Amidst the crisp December air, a group of creatives gathered in Princeton for a retreat that was more than a time of learning—it was a time of seeing. Over the course of three days, led by artist and cultural theologian Makoto Fujimura, participants entered a space where nature, grace, and interdependency were not just concepts but lived experiences.
From the very beginning, the retreat invited us to shift our perception. On Friday night, as we settled into the space, Goldenwood Co-Founder and CEO David Kim led us through a guided meditation inspired by Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Eyes closed, imaginations awakened, we stood beside a stream, listening to the quiet music of flowing water.
One participant shared, “I kept thinking about a creek near my house, and the whole time here, I just felt like it was calling me back. Not just as a place to visit, but as a rhythm—a space of daily retreat woven into my life”.
The retreat was a call to attentiveness—to slow down, breathe deeply, and allow our senses to be reawakened to the presence of God in creation.
Breaking from Binaries: Reclaiming Interdependency
Saturday morning brought a powerful challenge. In an age of polarization, we are conditioned to think in binaries—faith versus reason, nature versus grace, culture wars versus culture care. But what if these divides are false? Mako invited us to consider interdependency instead. Drawing from the wisdom of Kintsugi—the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold—he showed us that our fractures are not meant to be discarded but embraced as part of a larger, redemptive story. “When something breaks in Japanese culture, it is then considered sacred. In the West, we often throw away what is broken. But what if the fractures are what make us whole?” he asked.
For many, this theme resonated deeply.
“I had grown so comfortable being alone, thinking that was just the way I was wired. But this retreat is helping me see that I don’t have to choose between independence and connection—I can be interdependent. I can be an artist and be deeply rooted in community.“
– Participant Reflection
Seeing Light Move: The Liturgical Panels
One of the most striking moments of the retreat came on Saturday afternoon when we gathered in the sanctuary to reflect on Makoto Fujimura’s liturgical panels. Installed as part of the church’s worship space, these works of layered pigments and gold leaf were created to interact with the shifting light throughout the seasons.
Mako described how these panels are designed to evoke contemplation. “Light is not just something that illuminates art,” he explained. “It is part of the work itself. As the sun moves across the sky, the panels reveal different textures, different layers—things you wouldn’t notice at first glance.” He described how the early morning service cast a shadow of the cross onto the panels, a transcendent effect that was never planned but has become central to the congregation’s experience of worship.
For Mako, this interplay of light and time is not just a technical consideration—it’s theological.
“Grace moves like this,” he reflected. “We don’t always perceive it at first, but with time, with shifting angles, with patience, it reveals itself.”
Participants were invited to spend time with the panels, allowing their eyes to adjust to the subtle shifts of light. One attendee later shared, “I found myself lingering, noticing details I hadn’t seen before. It made me wonder—what else in my life have I not been patient enough to see?”
The Slow Work of Grace
The afternoon invited us deeper into stillness. A nature walk became a metaphor for the journey of faith—starting in barren places but unfolding into unexpected beauty. The crunch of leaves beneath our feet, the sight of delicate fungi growing in the underbrush—these small details became moments of revelation. “It’s been a while since I slowed down this much,” one participant reflected. “I realized I actually like this version of myself—the one who notices, who lingers”.
Mako reminded us that creation itself moves at a different pace than we do.
“Nature does not hurry, and yet it flourishes. In the modern world, we often resist this rhythm. But when we slow down, we begin to see how grace works—not as an instant transaction, but as something unfolding over time, like the rings of a tree or the patterns in a riverbed.“
One participant described a moment of realization by a frozen pond: “I watched ice melt and suddenly saw my own heart in that process—where is it softening? Where is it growing rigid? It was powerful”.
The invitation was clear: to live at the pace of grace.
A Benediction of the Sea
Sunday brought a sense of culmination. Over a shared meal, we reflected on the threads woven throughout the weekend—the call to see beyond division, the sacredness of brokenness, the necessity of slowing down.
As a final benediction, Mako read an excerpt from Rachel Carson’s The Sea Around Us, describing the intricate dance of microscopic sea life—fragile yet foundational to the entire ecosystem. He invited us to imagine ourselves as part of this delicate interdependency, held by forces greater than we can perceive.
“These words do not just accurately inform us of the ocean,” he reflected, “they are an invocation, a benediction, inviting us into a deeper feast. We, too, are carried along the Spirit’s path, woven into a mystery far beyond what we can understand”.
As we departed, there was a shared sense that this retreat was not an ending but a beginning. A beginning of deeper attentiveness, of embracing interdependency, of stewarding beauty in our communities.
“This community is like a breath of fresh air. It has reignited my creativity and reminded me to take my time, to slow down, because what we create deserves that kind of sacred attention.”
– Closing Participant Reflection
For those who couldn’t be there, we carry this experience forward not as something to be recounted, but as something to be lived. The work of culture care is ongoing, and it begins in the quiet moments of seeing.
