2023-2024 Interns

I walked into the Perrysburg auditorium, looking for where I was supposed to sit at the 2021 DreamTeam Celebration.

Wild movements snagged my attention. Someone holding a Perrysburg Campus sign jumped up and down, dancing through the rows and occasionally clambering on top of seats.

Enthusiasm? A+

Dignity? Decimated.

I shook my head. God bless the poor soul who had been roped into that role on the hype team.

I sank into my seat, one thought rolling through my head. You couldn’t pay me enough….

Ha.

That, my friends, is proof that God has a sense of humor.

So, imagine my dismay when I clicked the email for Celebration staff roles last month. I’d signed up for the fire pit crew (because it’s not arson if you’re supposed to burn stuff) but as I scrolled through the email, I froze.

The fire pit had been removed.

Apprehension curdled in my stomach. Which team had I been moved to?

I frantically skimmed the email until I found my name sitting under ominous, blocky letters.

Auditorium Hype Team:

Sarah Pagel

Well, fantastic.

The night of the event, I helped out with the food stations and then marched my introverted, reticent self to the auditorium when the time came.

It was then that I lost my Central Support title and temporarily became an Oregon Campus intern. I was handed a construction-orange sign and told to stand in front of the center rows to hype up the Oregon DreamTeam members.

Peppy music blared from the speakers, and guests started pouring through the doors. I glanced around at the other people on the team and saw them getting into the celebration mood.

And with that, I bade farewell to the final vestiges of decorum I possessed.

I waved the sign around, moving to the beat of the music. The temperature rose as people crowded the auditorium, and sweat dripped down my back. I beamed at the DreamTeam members who took their seats, watching as Oregon’s small space slowly filled.

(I did, however, draw the line at standing on the chairs. Some boundaries must be preserved, thank you very much.)

After the time in the auditorium, I made my way outside and took up my post at Oregon’s table. My fingers froze as I flapped my sign around once more.

I watched, satisfaction flickering in my chest, as guests picked up an envelope on their way out. I’d labored over the baptism stories inside for longer than anyone would know, and the letter it contained marked my first ghostwriting experience.

At the end of the evening, I relinquished my Oregon sign and was surprised to realize it hadn’t been as bad as I’d anticipated.

Though I was tired and my social battery was drained, it had actually been fun to witness the energy in the room and play a part in getting our DreamTeam excited.

I was reminded that it’s good to be pushed outside our comfort zones, to relax and not take ourselves too seriously.

And I even had a teaspoon of dignity left.

Beyond that, April also held the cover reveal for the anthology I’m part of, Voices of the Future: Stories of Courage and Compassion! I’ve poured so much time, energy, and passion into this project, and I’m so proud of how it turned out. I can’t wait to finally share it with you when it releases on May 30th.

My historical fantasy short story, “The Colors in the Well,” draws inspiration from Greek mythology—but its heartbeat is a lonely girl searching for community. Here’s what it’s about:

Ivy is cursed—at least, that’s what all the kids at school whisper. With her secondhand clothes and whimsical love of art, Ivy was never as popular as her older sister. But after she touches the school’s haunted well, the students are convinced she’s doomed to fall down it just like a girl did fifty years ago. They treat her like an outcast, throwing her watercolor tin into the well.

The only way to break the curse? Climb down the well, retrieve her paints, and make it back up to prove the haunted well has let her go. But what Ivy doesn’t know is that an ancient creature waits for her at the bottom—and it’s far more than a myth.

100% of every purchase goes toward a scholarship fund to help me and my classmates attend writing conferences to kickstart our careers, so I would be honored if you preordered it: Voices of the Future – Sarah Pagel | The Author Conservatory

Until next time,

Sarah

I sank back in my seat as the auditorium went black, the cool, soft words of the narrator filling the dark.

I took a breath, clearing my mind of the months of work we’d done on this Good Friday service and prepared to scrutinize every detail. This final run through presented the last chance for the central team to make adjustments. Any mistakes we missed now would be included when campuses put on the service later that week.

I analyzed the phrasing in the narration I’d written and the way the video fit with it.

But as the voiceover continued, ceding to Scripture reading and music, I stopped looking for holes. The lyrics of “Son of Suffering” washed over me, and goosebumps prickled my arms.

How can it be?

There’s a God who weeps,

There’s a God who bleeds.

The weight of Good Friday hit me, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. Each year, I think I’ve grasped the enormity of the crucifixion—but each year, it crashes into me in a new way.

This time, I can’t shake my awe over the fact that we serve the Weeping God, the Bleeding God.

It’s a beautiful oxymoron.

With all His glory, power, and beauty, Jesus still chose to come down and suffer among us. To be spit upon by the people He created. To be beaten by the ones He came to heal. To undergo a common execution, unremarkable in every way save for its brutality.

He was fully God—but unlike the gods of other traditions and pantheons, His suffering was deeply human. There was nothing fantastical or mighty about this pain, like Zeus’ head being split to birth Athena, or Odin losing an eye to gain wisdom.

No, the Gospels paint a picture of our Savior beaten and bloodied, bearing the same vulgar mockery and torment faced by the dregs of Roman society.

Though He was God, He chose to be humiliated.

He was also fully man—but he carried the mantle of messiah perfectly. In the midst of the blood, the grime, and the jeers, His grace and love never faltered. Christ was not a Paul Atreides, a paper messiah who crumpled under the weight of his own frail mortality.

Jesus’ humanity meant He could empathize with our pain, not merely sympathize, and yet He was able to carry the weight of all our expectations and needs.

Though He was man, He never fell prey to our failings.

I hope the guests who attended CedarCreek this year were struck by the significance and beauty of the God who wept and bled among us—who chose to save us in such a humble, vulnerable way.

I loved getting to write the slides for Good Friday and Easter, create the narrations at the beginning of both services, and the script covering the history of the church at the end of Easter.

If you missed it, you can watch both services here:

Good Friday - Good Friday | 2024 (youtube.com)

Easter - Easter | 2024 (youtube.com)

Until next time,

Sarah

Waves hurled themselves at the giant stone steps, sending spray fanning out like a cobra’s hood. I almost toppled into the lake as I picked my way across the slick cement leading down to the waterline, hands jammed in my coat pockets and eyes tearing up from the frigid wind. My stomach growled, helpfully reminding me I hadn’t eaten in 20 hours.

And yet, despite the miserable weather and hunger, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of God’s goodness.

I stared out over Lake Erie, the sterling silver sky and waters blending together in a haze. This intern retreat to Maumee Bay State Park had only been a day long. I and the other interns had intentionally spent time in silence, solitude, fasting, and Scripture reading.

At first, my internal landscape had mirrored the lake—thoughts, emotions, and struggles all sloshing against the shore of my mind. Gradually, through the stillness, my soul had settled until it came to rest in God’s presence and His benevolence.

Because when I stripped away so much of what filled my day—food, people, noise—I remembered that I don’t actually need many of the comforts I think I do. And what’s more, many of those things are blessings from God that I’m too distracted to properly appreciate.

I inhaled the sharp, clear air and left the waterfront, tromping across the lawn toward the woods next to the conference center. I needed to head back inside soon, but I didn’t want this moment to end.

I wandered the boardwalk through the marshes, wind howling like a Nazgul’s fell beast.

It’s easy to expect a monumental outcome when we engage in the spiritual disciplines—an answer to a decision we’re facing, a huge breakthrough in our faith, or a prophetic insight. And sometimes that is what we experience.

But so often our encounter with God is smaller, more about His character and connecting with Him than being wrapped up in our own lives. A reminder of His kindness, faithfulness, and presence.

Finally, my time was up, and I hiked back to the conference center.

But those lessons have stuck with me, and I’ve tried to imbue that reminder of God’s graciousness into what I’ve been writing.

January’s been brimming with projects. I had the opportunity to script a number of pieces for The Power to Change, from the title package, to the voiceover before “Happy” in Week 1, to an animated video that will play during the final weekend to recapture the heart of the series.

I also received the final date for my book launch this spring (which I can’t stop smiling about), and I’ve been working on creating a marketing strategy with the other authors in the anthology.

I’m so grateful for what God’s been teaching me lately and for your support that’s made it possible. I hope this next month for you is filled with the small reminders of God’s goodness.

Until next time,

Sarah

I sat in the West Toledo auditorium, foot tapping a nervous, staccato rhythm. The last notes of the pre-service countdown music faded, and people’s chatter died as the room went black. For a second, all seemed to freeze.

Then, a golden glow flooded the stage, and the opening bars of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” swelled to life. I sank back to finally watch the service I’d been helping create for almost four and a half months.

It wasn’t the real deal. Not yet.

But it felt close enough—all teams send-off was the first time the music and production teams learned the service they’d be executing at Christmas. And it was the first time I got to see the service start to finish performed by a campus team.

As the opening sentences of the short film’s voiceover echoed through the auditorium, I tugged my sweatshirt sleeves over my cold hands. Would people get the story? Would they like it? Would they think the narration was cheesy?

The story rolled on, scenes and songs flowing one after another, quieting my over-analyzing brain. I got to experience the service like a guest—not to give feedback at the end, but simply to. . . enjoy. To see how the storytelling, the videography, and the music all intertwined into something even better than we’d hoped for.

The screen dissolved to black, and I held my breath. Slowly, applause broke out through the room, unraveling the knot in my stomach. It didn’t sound like the teams hated it, at least.

Pastor Ben came out to deliver a bare-bones version of his Christmas sermon. He focused on the wise men and the star, the ways God cuts through ordinary life in extraordinary ways to invite those far from Him into His story.

But even though I’d seen it three or four times already, I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

The band started playing “O Come All Ye Faithful,” clips of The Chosen layered under the lyrics, and we all rose to sing. Scenes of Jesus’ birth gave way to scenes of His ministry. The tiny infant who was God, come to serve and save and know us personally. Goosebumps prickled along my arms. Gratitude, awe, and love swirled through my chest. All I could do was worship.

Because it all came back to Him. His love, sacrifice, and desire for a relationship with us.

Everything else in the service felt like it had built to this—the short film about a broken star, the message about the wise men following the star, the handcrafted star hanging from the auditorium ceiling. And it all culminated in a powerful, soul-stirring moment that invited people to experience God in the middle of their messy lives.

It wasn’t planned that way. The team never sat down and decided to create a service all about the star and what it means for us. It simply came together the more we worked on it, God somehow filling the gaps and tying everything together like He always does.

I’ve been overwhelmed by the positive response to the short film from staff and guests. I loved the whole process—shaping the concept, outlining the plot, developing the characters, helping on the set, and then watching as the videography and music teams worked their magic to create the final package. Hearing that it tugged on people’s heartstrings and caused some of them to tear up is one of the best responses I could have hoped for.

I’m so grateful I had this opportunity in the internship. Thank you for making it happen.

Until next time,

Sarah

P.S. If you didn’t get a chance to attend our Christmas services, you can still watch the whole thing (with the short film) through this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdrVg7D5qnE

5pm - Crew arrives on set

I twisted my key, and the low rumble in my car died. Turning off my latest audiobook (Aggressively Happy by Joy Clarkson), I ran up the steps to the house where we were filming. Nervous excitement flurried in my stomach as I stepped inside, greeted by the warm glow of Christmas lights and spicy scent of apple cider.

This is what we’d been working toward for months. Shooting this Christmas short film would either be a wonderful success or a trainwreck we couldn’t undo.

Armed with only theoretical knowledge of how to fulfill my role as script supervisor that night, I tried to make myself useful as the crew bustled around, prepping the set and equipment before the cast arrived.

We set up lights, flicked on countless candles, and talked strategy for how to keep this shoot on time while coordinating such a large number of people. Tonight would either make it or break it.

6pm - Cast arrives on set

As I hastily shoved pita bread and cheese into my mouth, the talent started arriving. People poured into the house, the noise and the temperature rising with each new person. Chaos and energy followed four very excited kids like a comet’s tail.

Finally, our lead actor arrived, and we all gathered in the front hall for the director to explain the process. Then, it was finally time.

We were ready to start filming.

6:20pm - Filming begins

I lost track of how many times the phrase, “One more time!” was uttered in succession.

The hubbub rose as people talked and laughed, and the kids bounced around the house whenever they weren’t in front of a camera. We plowed through scene after scene, the assistant director keeping us scudding along.

After discordant piano music, a frantic hunt for winter coats, and a smoked turkey that stubbornly resisted all efforts to carve it, the director made the blessed pronouncement that it was a wrap on the last of the actors.

10:15pm - Everyone heads home

As I drove home, contacts itching in my tired eyes and a satisfied exhaustion settling on my shoulders, I thought about the night.

It had gone about as well as could be hoped for. As one of the kids had left, she’d even shouted, “That was so much fun!”

But the best part had definitely been watching the lead actor connect to the emotional core of the story. He just got the story we were trying to tell, the message we wanted to share with the viewers.

You could feel the weight of certain scenes, and I can only hope that if it touched the cast and crew while filming, it will connect with the audience during the Christmas service.

Because that’s why we do this—not for the fun and bustle of watching this project come together, but to reach people’s hearts and imaginations with truth.

Until next time,

Sarah

P.S. If you missed it, this year’s Choose Your Own Adventure can be found on CedarCreek’s app! It was a ton of fun to be part of the team that worked on it, and in a few of the endings, you can even see my mom as one of the background actors.

Woodsmoke tinged the air, the campfire glowing jewel-bright in the darkness. I hovered just outside the reach of its light, watching the film shoot with rapt attention.

“And action!” the director called.

The volunteer actors launched into their lines—lines I’d help write as I worked on the Choose Your Own Adventure script for Halloweekend.

I always thought it would feel odd to hear people deliver dialogue I had written, but instead, it felt… natural. I got into a zone, making mental notes of how to make the lines easier to deliver and more memorable for next time.

One of the actors lifted a flashlight to his chin, staring around the campfire. “Then, people started disapp—”

WHOO

Laughter erupted as a train blared in the distance, completely shattering the moment.

“We’re by a haunted—”

WHOO

“Should we—”

WHOOOOOO

All. Night. Long. Nothing kills what’s supposed to be a freaky atmosphere quite like a mundane, Midwest train chugging away in the background.

Finally, the people I’d carpooled with had finished their scenes, and we headed home. I rested my head against the cool glass of the car window. All in all, it seemed like a night spent gathering footage for a fun and lighthearted game people could participate in during Halloweekend.

But then one of the volunteers started talking.

Because her dog is in the Choose Your Own Adventure footage, she’s had opportunities to invite friends and coworkers who otherwise wouldn’t be interested in church. Simply because they want to see her cute pup on the screen!

It seems so simple—hosting a Halloween experience or casting a certain dog—but God can use those little things in meaningful ways. As Paul put it, “Instead, God chose the things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful.” (1 Corinthians 1:7)

God can leverage what we deem insignificant or small to reach the people He loves. I’m so grateful for this reminder of why we do what we do.

I can’t wait for you to see the finished product of Halloweekend on October 28th and 29th. Hopefully one of the small details touches you as well.

Until next time,

Sarah

A burst of creamy sweetness flooded my mouth as I sipped my hazelnut latte. My gaze roamed the bustling cafe’s teal walls, my fingers poised above my keyboard as I grasped for the next sentence.

Why are Christmas stories always so cheesy?

I’d spent the morning working with my coworkers on an outline for a story that would be woven into the Christmas service. Yet, I wanted to avoid the sugary themes, cliche characters, and trite resolutions that fill Hallmark-esque movies.

Those have their place and can be fun, but they do little in the way of offering real help and hope.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, and pain bloomed across it. My fingers sought the right keys like hens pecking at scattered seeds.

Slowly, the main character and the story unfolded before me. What those fluffy Christmas stories lacked was an honest depiction of struggle—the losses we experience, the various emotions Christmas stirs up, the stress and disappointment of the season. And then the hope and joy still accessible to us despite that.

Because hope in stories is only as meaningful as the depth of the darkness contrasting it. This is a defining feature of the stories that stick with us, that resonate with us and prompt us to take action in our lives.

I gulped down the frothy dregs of my latte, the heady rush of creation and caffeine flowing through me. For the first time, it hit me that my skills and passion for storytelling could be valuable for a company, not only for crafting novels.

I don’t know if the team and I found the right harmony between heartwarming and honest for the Christmas story (you’ll be the judge of that), but I gave it my best.

~ ~ ~

Really, “I gave it my best” could be my slogan since starting the internship. Want me to draft a script, write a monologue to fit with a song, or brainstorm scenes for a Choose Your Own Adventure style experience? Sure, I’ll try my hand at that. Mostly, it’s been a lot of Christmas in July and jack-o’-lanterns in July as we program everything for the rest of the year.

I’ve learned loads about my strengths and weaknesses, how to pitch projects, and what rhythms work best (turns out Ursula K. LeGuin was onto something with her 5am writing routine).

And all of this happened alongside working under deadline to turn my Author Conservatory short story in to my editor, which I successfully did.

I can’t wait to see what September holds, and I’m so grateful for your support. You make it possible for me to continue striving to create honest, true, and beautiful stories.

Until next time,

Sarah

P.S. Keep your eyes peeled September 16/17 for narrations I helped write about the struggles three people from different walks of life are facing. I can't wait to share it with you.