There is something quietly remarkable about the way God weaves people into one another’s stories.
When I became National Director of Diaconal Ministries Canada (DMC) in 2016, Rachel Vroege was already there, already doing the work. In one sense, she had been part of the DMC story longer than I had. But, if you trace the threads back far enough, our paths had crossed before— and I was the one who arrived first.
I was a DMC coach when, a couple of years later, Rachel joined the team as Regional Director for Western Canada and became my “boss.” I worked under her leadership for a season, then stepped away. Years later I returned, this time as National Director, and found myself, somewhat improbably, as her “boss.” We laughed about that more than once. The tables had turned. But whatever the organizational chart said, Rachel has always been a colleague and friend.
Over the years, I watched her help churches see themselves differently. Through her work in Asset-Based Community Development, she persistently challenged congregations to stop complaining about their deficiencies and start noticing what God had already placed among them: the gifts, the relationships, the quiet capacities waiting to be named and celebrated. She had a gift for turning the question around. Not “What’s wrong here?” but “What is God already doing here, and how is He calling us to join Him?” That reframing matters more than it might seem; it changes everything about how a church shows up in its neighborhood.
But what I remember most about working with Rachel is her deep commitment to justice.
For Rachel, justice has never been just a program or a talking point. It is a conviction, rooted in Scripture, expressed in relationships, and lived out in faithful actions. She reminded churches, again and again, that diaconal ministry means more than responding to immediate needs. It means paying attention to the systems and circumstances that create those needs. It means seeing neighbors not as problems to be managed, but as image-bearers to be known, valued, and stood alongside.
Nowhere was this more evident than in her passionate commitment to Indigenous justice and reconciliation. Through KAIROS Blanket Exercises, Hearts Exchanged initiatives, and countless conversations with churches across the country, Rachel helped people understand more honestly the history and ongoing realities of colonization. More than that, she encouraged churches to move beyond awareness into something harder and more beautiful: genuine relationship, honest listening, shared lament, and courageous action.
I remember one particular weekend in Terrace, British Columbia. Rachel and I (though mostly Rachel) facilitated four KAIROS Blanket Exercises in just a few days. Two were at the local Christian school, one on a nearby First Nation reserve, and one at Terrace CRC. It was an intense few days. By the end of it, I was tired. But I was also moved. I watched students, church members, and community participants encounter difficult truths with open hearts. I watched something shift.
That weekend stayed with me, not because of the logistics, but because of what I witnessed God doing through Rachel’s unhurried presence. When we were on the reserve, she spent more than four hours walking through the exercise, recognizing that our Indigenous neighbors needed time and space to articulate the deep emotions the experience brought to the surface. She never rushed them.
Rachel has also brought that same spirit of conviction into her writing. Her reflections and blog posts for DMC and for the Do Justice blog of the CRCNA, many of which remain available online, invite readers into deeper thinking about reconciliation, community, poverty, belonging, and what it means to be the church in the world. Her writing never settles for easy answers, but it always points toward hope. That is not a simple thing to do, one she does well.
In more recent years, Rachel poured herself into inclusive ministry. She understood, in her bones, that the kingdom of God is gloriously diverse and that true welcome means more than an open door. It means making room, sharing power, and celebrating the gifts that every person brings.
As Rachel steps into a new chapter with M2W2’s ministry, I am not surprised. This is Rachel continuing to be Rachel, following the thread of dignity, justice, and hope that has marked her ministry from the beginning. M2W2 is not a departure from that; it is a beautiful continuation.
Rachel, thank you.
Thank you for your faithfulness, your friendship, and your willingness to do the hard and holy work. Thank you for the churches you helped reimagine, the deacons you equipped, the assumptions you unsettled, and the hope you consistently pointed toward. The reach of your work is wider than you know. Many people are living differently, thinking differently, and serving differently because of what you gave.
May God bless you richly in what lies ahead. May you find joy in the work, grace for the hard days, and the deep satisfaction of continuing to witness what God can do when people are willing to show up and serve.
It has been a genuine privilege.
And, as always, remember that you are
in HIS grip
Picture from the iABCD in Calgary in September 2024.
