No matter who you are, or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here at University Congregational United Church of Christ. Young, old, sure of your path, or still searching — we invite you to join us in imagining love and justice – as Jesus did – and acting to change the world. We strive to walk in the path of Jesus, and to offer an authentic welcome to everyone who walks through our door. We invite visitors to wear a name-tag from the pew register folder so we may more easily greet you by name.

Our worship service starts at 10 am and includes hymns, prayers, scripture reading and a sermon. It usually lasts about an hour and 15 minutes. More information here.

Children are an important part of our community, and are welcome for all or part or the service. You will be met at the door with a warm handshake and welcome, and our friendly greeters can help direct you and answer your questions.

Wear clothes that you are comfortable in and sit on the main floor or in the balcony - wherever you feel most at ease. We look forward to welcoming you.

UCUCC Parking Map

View for detailed Google Map.

Parking can be a challenge in the University District! Persistence, patience and an early start are keys to success.

UW has free parking on Sundays. Enter the main campus gate at NE 45th and 17th Ave NE and turn left past the toll booth. It's about a three-block walk to the church. The UW Meany Garage at 15th Ave. NE and NE 41st St. is a five-block walk.

The church also owns three parking lots - Lot A is across the street from the church on 16th Ave. E. Lot B is beneath Sortun Court, just north of the church on the east side of 16th Ave. E. (It closes at 2 p.m.) Lot C (for those with difficulty walking, young children and visitors) is at the corner of 15th NE and NE 45th St., next to the church.

If you need to be assured of a close parking spot, you can call the church office before noon on Friday to reserve one: 206-524-2322.

We offer a complimentary "inquirers Lunch" on the second Sunday of the month for people interested in learning more about us. It is an informal session over soup, salad and dessert where you can meet others who may be on a similar spiritual journey and learn how to plug into this church community from long-term members and clergy.

We'll explore topics from history, to theology, to membership. To RSVP, or let us know about special needs (Including childcare or food sensitivities) email us at gro.ccuytisrevinu@sreriuqni or call 206-979-7539.

We are an inter-generational church and strive to be family-friendly, with an active ministry for children and youth. All ages are welcome in worship. We also offer nursery and child-care, Younger children begin the service with us and usually leave after about 15 minutes. Older children have the option of leaving for a special sermon time. Junior high and high school youth meet at 9 am and then often sit together in worship. Give us a call at 206-524-2322 for more specifics.

Hearing Impaired: Our sanctuary has an induction loop system that uses the T-Coil mode of your hearing aids. You can get the necessary equipment just before entering the Sanctuary on the right or ask any usher.

Visually Impaired: We offer each Sunday's program in large print for easier readability.

Wheelchair Access: The front entry is wheelchair accessible as are the rest rooms. Please don't hesitate to ask for assistance.

“The Camino provides.” You hear this all this time from Pilgrims and I read about it in every book I picked up about the Camino de Santiago. There were so many stories about a bed, a room, a meal, or a doctor turning up just in time. Then everyone would smile and say knowingly, “The Camino provides.”

Oh, yeah?

Moritz and I managed to walk the sixteen miles over the Pyrenees in one day only to arrive in Roncevalles where the 183-bed albergue was completely full. Pilgrims—if they had a tent—were sleeping out on the lawn. Moritz had a tent so out to the lawn he went. Two Danish girls and I decided we would walk another two miles to the next town.

We arrived in Burguete only to find that the entire town was full of tired, hungry Pilgrims who just finished their first day on the Camino—and there were no more beds. The markets were closed. The cafés were closed. Since it was getting dark and starting to rain the town officials decided this was a full blow Camino emergency. So they opened the Sports Hall and about forty of us Pilgrims poured in.

The Sports Hall was an enormous gymnasium with a concrete floor and bleachers. There was no heat. There was no light. The only advantage to not sleeping out under the trees was that it was now pouring rain so at least we had a roof.

I put on every article of clothing I owned: two short-sleeved Merino wool shirts, a long-sleeved shirt, a quick-dry button down shirt, a down jacket, a rain jacket, hiking pants, hiking shorts, a neck gaiter and two pair of socks. I wrapped my large scarf around my head. I didn’t bother with the extra two pair of underwear because really—what difference would it make? So I wadded them up and tucked them into my neck gaiter like two nesting mice.

I crawled into my silk sleeping bag liner (but had no sleeping bag). I attempted to put my feet into my backpack but that proved uncomfortable. I tried to use my backpack as a pillow and that proved to be ridiculous.

Here I what learned about sleeping on concrete: concrete will always win.You will never get up from concrete and say, “That warm spot there is where I was lying.” No. You will leave no warm spot. Concrete will suck the heat out of your body like a giant starving leech.

Here is what I learned about sleeping in a cavernous space with forty people: there will be a least one champion mouth breather whose thunderous snores will boom off the walls like a snarling T. Rex.

I’m pretty good at visualization so I thought, “This sound is simply the roar of the ocean waves. Imagine the beautiful ocean waves.” But after a few minutes I wondered, “Why is my beach house so freaking cold? What idiot would build a place on the Arctic ocean?”

I lasted about two hours on the floor. I decided it had to be warmer on the wooden bleachers—the narrow little wooden bleachers. If you didn’t turn over or move at all, you would be just fine. I lay like a casketed corpse with my arms crossed over my chest.

The Sports Hall was connected to a church. Did that mean kindly nuns would greet us with cups of steaming hot leche? Did it mean jovial priests would deliver hot churros and chocolate? No, it meant every half hour the bells rang—from the bell tower—right next to the Sports Hall.

An Exquisite Hell—penance for some hideous sin I’d yet to commit. Damn the Camino! It provided nothing—no food, no bed, no water. This was supposed to be a pilgrimage—not Outward Bound. Then came the horrible realization: I was a privileged white woman who chose this. No Pity Parties allowed.

After a couple of hours I just sat up in the dark and stayed like that until morning. As morning was dawning, one of the Danish girls yawned, sat up and looked at me. “You look like a homeless person,” she said. I said nothing being somewhat frozen. Then she said, “Your under panties are on your shoulder.”

Indeed they were! One of the nesting mice had crawled out of my neck gaiter. We all packed up and trudged to a nearby café. Moritz met me there and we vowed to continue on together even though I was secretly bitter about the night in the Sports Hall.

I didn’t reflect much on that night. I just chalked it up to bad luck—until last week. I was walking to my 6:00 a.m. yoga class. I always walk through a well-lighted little park next to the Lake City Library. There under the stairs, on the concrete was a human form with what looked seventeen-thousand layers of clothes on. Twenty feet away, buried under rags and newspapers was another human form on a bench.

“You look like a homeless person,” she said.

That miserable night in the Sports Hall roared back to me. I stopped in my tracks, my cold hands jammed into the pockets of my down jacket. Unless they choose, nobody should have to sleep on concrete. Unless they choose, nobody should have to sleep outside on a bench. Not people who are homeless, not refugees, not prisoners.

I don’t know how to solve the homeless problem or the refugee problem or the prison problem. I just know that I have a better understanding of what it’s like to be without a bed. That understanding breaks my heart. 

The Camino really did provide—just not in the ways I expected and wanted. It provided in a deeper way, a way that provided food for my mind and shelter for my heart. How we use our lives is up to us. Spirit will always provide a way for us to grow or learn or love no matter how crappy our experiences. The Way is there—it’s just up to us to start walking.