Yes, I know... I am a horrible blogger on this trip, especially after I'm sure you've all been waiting with baited breath to see what my next adventure is :). Nothing to compare, I'm afraid, with locking myself out of Beth Ruhl's house back in November in Kansas, I can assure you. I've been a true road warrior this trip, criss-crossing four states and the District of Columbia in the past three days. So you haven't heard from me because a.) I've been in the car way too much to do anything else, b.) I haven't been staying at places with Internet access very much this time around. But I will try to squeeze out an update in the half hour I have before people show up at my presentation here at Hood College in Frederick, Maryland.

It is hard to summarize all the places I've been in the last few days and the conversations we've had-- they've been so different. I've talked about women's ordination at Virginia Tech and studied the daughters of Zelophephed with women at the University of Virginia. I've been part of deep "Where is God?" conversations at the University of Delaware, and ruminated on the changing landscape of campus ministry at the University of Richmond (where, by the way, I got lost and was half an hour late for an hour long appointment with a professor and the chaplain. I'm still trying not to beat myself up over that one). But I'll lift up a few thoughts about what makes a successful campus ministry that have come from several of the places I've visited.

I was talking to Peter Hazelrigg at Princeton University following breakfast this morning. At 8:30 am, he had more students showing up for his program than many campus ministries get for their regular Sunday night worship! He told me, though, that not too long ago Princeton had boasted maybe eight students involved in the Presbyterian ministry there-- right now he works with about 40. I asked him how he got people involved. His answer reminded me of what I've seen at other campuses, something I'll term the "ministry of presence." I've noticed in my travels that successful campus ministers are those who enmesh themselves in the larger fabric of the university. Peter teaches students at Princeton facilitation skills in an outdoor sports leadership program. The chaplain at Houston Community College puts up a talking post daily for students in the commuter school's cafeteria. The campus minister at Virginia Tech is a leader at campus rallies on social issues. They don't do all the work, and their students drive their ministry. But these ministries aren't prospering because they put up the most fliers on campus-- they're growing because the ministers are seen on campus beyond a particular religious community and are people that others can trust.

Why isn't everyone doing this? One word: time. Campus ministry is a full-time job, and too many congregations, presbyteries, and synods are expecting one person to work part time on it. The result is that a minister can't do it justice (or is getting a part time salary for full time work). Growing a ministry is hard work, from establishing that presence on campus apart from what one does at Sunday worship to following up individually with each person who shows the least bit of interest in what the group is doing to providing the tools for student leaders to take on some of the outreach.

The reality of campus ministry that I've seen, anywhere in the country that I go, is shrinking funds and lack of support. And the truth is that campus ministers are soon going to have to become their own fundraisers, too, if they want to keep the part-time jobs they have. But as students, we have to ask ourselves how much these ministries mean to us. Are we willing to get out there and do some fundraising of our own? Are we willing to donate money as alumnae to keep the ministries that nourished us in college alive?

Think about the answer carefully-- the future of mainline Protestant campus ministry is hanging in the balance.

"The rich and the poor have this in common; the Lord is the maker of them all." --Proverbs 22:2

Kelsey