Thrive Together Young Adult Retreat Recap 2025
Snapshot of a speaker appreciation moment at the end of Thrive 2025.
By some cosmic joke or divine intervention—depending on who you ask—the Thrive Together Young Adult Retreat kicked off on December 5, 2025, just as a brutal Ontario snowstorm decided to flex. Fair Havens Conference Centre in Beaverton, a sprawling lakeside spot that's equal parts rustic charm and Bible-camp nostalgia, was blanketed in white, the kind of snow that crunches underfoot and turns everything into a postcard from Narnia. Outside, the wind howled like a scorned ex; inside, a hundred Seventh-day Adventists aged 20 to 40 were huddled in hoodies and holy fervour, chasing what the theme promised: "Unfiltered Love: Unbroken, Uncovered, Unashamed."
These weren't your grandma's church folk, though. No stiff collars or judgmental side-eyes here. This crowd was a mix of urban millennials juggling 9-to-5s and side hustles, recent grads navigating post-pandmic existential dread, and a smattering of thirtysomethings pondering marriage, mortgages, and the meaning of it all. Organized by the Ontario Conference of Seventh-day Adventists, Thrive Together isn't your typical revival—it's part TED Talk, part Coachella for the soul, with a dash of matchmaking thrown in for good measure. The goal? Recommit to living like Jesus modeled: raw, real, and radically loving. And boy, did the weekend deliver, blending fiery sermons, heartfelt workshops, and late-night chaos that felt more like a house party than holy hour.
The retreat's heartbeat was the husband-wife duo of Pastor Jose and Angelica Sanchez, the senior pastoral team at New Life SDA Church in Oshawa. Fresh off seven years of marriage and parents to a toddler (with another on the way, as Angelica casually dropped during her intro), the Sanchezes aren't the fire-and-brimstone type. They're relatable, funny, and unflinchingly honest—think less pulpit-pounding, more coffee-shop confessional. Their messages wove through the weekend like a spiritual thread, pulling from personal anecdotes, Scripture, and a healthy dose of psychology to unpack what "unfiltered love" really means in a world obsessed with filters.
It all started Friday evening with "Fix Your Focus," a joint sermon that set the tone like a mic drop. Amid the crackle of a fireplace and the scent of hot cocoa wafting from the lobby, Jose opened with a story about immigrating to Canada as a teen and stumbling upon a cemetery during a run— a metaphor for life's fleeting "dash" between birth and death dates on a tombstone. "We are not here just by chance," he preached, his voice steady but urgent. "Something special is going to happen not only in this place, but also in the hearts of those who are willing to open it and allow the Holy Spirit to speak." Angelica chimed in, challenging the crowd to shift from earthly obsessions—jobs, relationships, social media—to eternal priorities. "Think about the things of heaven and not the things of the earth," she quoted from Colossians 3:2, urging attendees to live intentionally. By the end, the room was buzzing; whispers of "That hit different" rippled through as folks filed out for snacks and small talk.
Saturday dawned crisp and snowy, but the energy inside was electric. The praise team, fresh from a mission trip to Kapuskasing, led worship with the anthem "Power of Your Love," their harmonies lifting the group into what one attendee called "holy goosebumps territory."
Keynote speakers Angelica & Jose Sanchez praying.
Morning sermon "Golden Scars" from Jose dove deep into vulnerability, using John 20's story of doubting Thomas touching Jesus' wounds. He shared scar stories from attendees—one guy recounted slicing his hand on a glass while doing dishes as a kid—and tied it to Christ's choice to keep his crucifixion marks. "If the son of God didn't hide his scars, why do we feel like we must hide ours?" Jose asked, his words landing like a gut punch. It was a raw call to embrace personal "scars"—addictions, failures, heartbreaks—as badges of grace, not shame. "Our world needs to see scars as well because I believe that we've said enough," he added. "People have heard enough. I wonder if people have seen scars." The message resonated; post-sermon, clusters formed in the halls, folks swapping stories of depression, breakups, and faith crises over coffee.
Afternoons were for workshops, where the retreat's practical side shone. Shaina Charles' session on "Mental Health & Wellbeing" was a standout—packed with tips on boundary-setting and therapy-seeking, framed through a biblical lens. "We're not called to carry everything alone," she said, drawing nods from a room full of overachievers. Compassion Ministries' "Living the More Compassionate Way" pushed for vegan living and community service, while Pastor John Scott's "Singleness & God" tackled the elephant in the room for many young adults. "Singleness isn't a curse; it's a season to deepen your walk," Scott preached, easing the pressure in a culture where "finding the one" often feels like a mandate. Attendees left buzzing, armed with notebooks full of resources and a renewed sense of purpose.
But Thrive wasn't all sermons and soul-searching—Saturday evening's dating game show brought the levity. Picture this: one woman behind a screen grilling nine guys with questions like "What's your idea of a perfect Sabbath date?" Elimination rounds whittled it down, with crowd cheers and groans. Jayda picked Vidor; Matthew chose Alexandra. The winners scored a ministry-funded date post-retreat—think dinner and ice skating. It was cheesy, sure, but in a wholesome way that fit the vibe: connecting without the Tinder toxicity.
A young adult wearing the Thrive 2025 retreat shirt.
As night fell, the Thrive Cafe erupted into an all-out bash. Finger foods—mini quiches, fruit skewers, vegan sliders—fueled the frenzy. Open mic turned into karaoke gold: belters tackled "My Way," "Breaking Free," and even John Legend's "All of Me." Board games dotted tables, laughter echoing as strangers became friends. "The party literally had to be shut down, or else it would've gone all night long," one exhausted organizer laughed. It was peak millennial faith: holy vibes meets house party.
Sunday wrapped with Angelica's solo sermon, "The Table I Long For," a poetic riff on community as a metaphor for God's presence. Drawing from Exodus, she painted meals as sacred spaces. "Deep down guys, every human longs for connection," she said, citing Harvard studies on relationships' impact on happiness. "At the table, we encounter God." She shared her own love story starting over bland oatmeal in a dorm kitchen, evolving into something sweet—much like faith communities. "The gift of Christ-centered friendship is really the place where you notice and you realize what true love looks like," she emphasized. It was a fitting closer, urging attendees to build "tables" of inclusion back home.
By checkout, the transformation was palpable. Snow still fell outside, but inside, bonds had formed—prayer circles, phone numbers swapped, promises to meet up in Toronto or Oshawa. "I came feeling isolated in my faith journey," one 28-year-old from Hamilton told me, "but I leave knowing I'm not alone." Another, a single mom in her 30s, raved about the singleness workshop: "It reframed my 'waiting' as 'growing'—game-changer."
Thrive Together isn't revolutionary in the secular sense—no psychedelics or radical politics here. But in the niche world of Seventh-day Adventism, where young adults often grapple with balancing doctrine, modern life, and millennial ennui, it's a lifeline. The Sanchezes nailed it: unfiltered love means ditching pretense, embracing scars, and building community amid the chaos. As one attendee put it, quoting Jose: "We are not here just by chance." In a world of filtered feeds and fleeting connections, Thrive proved that real, unbroken faith still packs a punch—even in a snowstorm.