why is it easier to worship in the dark?

photo by Hannah Arnold - Visions Photography

This Sunday will be our third monthly church service of our church plant, Gospel Community. It's been such a joy to see the church and the community grow and gain steam, and our services have been like sweet little markers so far - gatherings to really physically see what God is up to. 

The building we meet in is also our kid's school and it's beautiful and new and the room where we have worship has light pouring in, just pouring in through the windows. I noticed this past service, I was having a really, really hard time just letting go and singing to the Lord. Sure, there are still a good amount of jitters and nervousness there as it pertains to being the pastor's wife - but I was just having a hard time really getting genuine as the music played and the songs were sung. 

I thought back to two months ago, when it was just us - in our living room - lights off and loud music playing. Worshipping, praying, intimate, and honest. And I realize - I tend to worship better in the dark. My favorite time of day is the morning when it's dark and still and I grab my Bible and hit the cool spot on the sofa and get real with Jesus. Just me and Him. I can write crazy things or murmur like a madwoman. I can get up and sway around my living room and pour out my heart. And what happens in the dark is good and beautiful and I never want to lose it. 

And then I think about heaven. How it will be intimate and personal, but also most of the descriptions I see in God's Word are very corporate. Very together. Very lights on. I think of what happens when I'm in corporate worship and get a glimpse of my husband worshipping, my sister, or that gal who I knew is in the midst of a trial. Some wild fire bubbles up inside of me and I believe in Him more. I believe that He is good and He is working because I see it in their lifted hands and their earnest faces. 

So today, this week, I'm pressing in and trying to worship in the light. 
I'll keep doing it in the dark because that is what is real and intimate for me, but I know doing it in the light is good for all of us too. 

who is coming behind you

I'm in an interesting position because I'm in the middle of the road. There are some areas of my life where I'm just starting a long trek - church planting, raising KIDS, writing, speaking, and living an overall healthy life. There are other areas where I've been walking for a few years - blogging, motherhood in general, marriage, and having a relationship with Jesus. I'm rounding the corner to thirty so there's really nothing in my life I'd consider myself an expert in, but there are things I feel more seasoned in than others. 

One thing I've noticed about women in Christian culture is the way we respond when we're a few steps ahead of someone. There are always exceptions to the rule, but I feel like we are very quick to warn, caution, or even straight up frighten the women who are coming behind us. It's the baby shower syndrome, you know? Or even the wedding shower syndrome these days. You know the scene I'm talking about - some sweet gal with a swollen belly or heart full of romantic dreams is sitting in the middle of the room and suddenly the conversation takes a scary turn. 

"oh just you wait - you're in for a wild ride."
"when you have two kids, you'll understand."
"it's fun for a little bit, until the honeymoon is over."
"enjoy these last days of freedom!"
"these are going to be the hardest years of your life - but they'll be rewarding."

I've been that girl. I've been both girls, really. I've been the scared one opening the gifts and I'm ashamed to say I've been the one trying to warn the sweet lady with all the hopes and dreams. Ladies, WHY do we do this? I'm sensitive to it now because here I am, at the beginning of so many different new walks and I'm noticing the words women have for me. Some beautiful women in my life have used my fresh naivety to speak wild hope into me and it has forever changed the way I want to encourage those who are coming behind me. 

The fact is - someone is behind you somewhere and someone is watching you. Whether it's in motherhood, marriage, ministry, work, your walk with the Lord, or even just the way you dress - someone is behind you, following you as you follow Jesus. And they are holding their breaths waiting for you to turn around and tell them, 

"It's going to be ok. It's going to be great."
"You can do this. Jesus in you is strong, even when you feel weak."
"It might feel hard - but He has equipped you and He will work in you."
"I'll be there for you, every step of the way."
"The best is yet to come."

Who is coming behind you and how can you encourage them? I'm starting with me, refusing to be the ominous lady at the shower - scaring the one who is opening the gift and looking to me with hopeful eyes. 

Let's be the ones, at the end of the road, who are saying, 
"I knew you could do it. 
I knew Christ in you was more than enough." 

It doesn't have to have a point.

Nick and I ran away this past weekend, for about 36 hours to Asheville, North Carolina.  His birthday had been a few days before our first church service and Valentines day was a few days before our second service, so both were pretty overshadowed by what was going on in our lives and it had been awhile since we'd just been alone and quiet together. We're both what I call "fake introverts" - meaning we're people-people and like to talk and host people, but on the inside we're pretty intense introverts and need alone time fairly regularly. And we have four kids and we're planting a church and run online businesses, so if we don't run away to Asheville or somewhere else occasionally - we might implode. 

The first twenty or so minutes of the drive, we held hands and REALLY talked. We talked about our wishes for the coming 36 hours and agreed, we wanted to be together, we wanted to hike & read, and we didn't want the trip to have a point. 

We're producers, him and I. It's not a beautiful part of our hearts and lately, we're feeling less proud of our ability to get things done and more convicted of our need to let things go. This hasn't always been our story. If you had a serious talk with our friends from five or six years ago, they'd tell you, we were a (beautiful) mess back then. We could barely take care of ourselves and we lived the life of the younger brother in the story of the prodigal son. Always in trouble, seemingly a mess, in serious need of help. 

But time and small business and God's growth has changed us, and here we find ourselves - absolutely living the life of the older brother. Putting in the hours and trying to do x, y, and z and making sure that every single part of our day is intentional and has. a. point. I try to combine eating with other activities and I have lists upon lists upon lists. We are goal setters, dreamers, and doers. I don't want you to get the wrong impression that we're perfect task masters either. We're still messy. There are always dishes in our sick & library books to return. I typically have way too many emails in my inbox to respond to and there is usually a laundry basket with folded clothes sitting on my bedroom floor, screaming at me to put it up. 

All that being said, this weekend we swung as hard as we could the other way (the right way?) and nothing had a point. We hiked in the not-most-beautiful area and without a destination in mind. We held hands and walked in silence. I laid in the hotel and looked at the ceiling while Nick read books with his headphones on. We talked a little over our meals, but mostly just smiled at each other. It wasn't a retreat to grow or build or change or get ahead. I didn't catch up on emails during the drive or even pick up any of the 6 books I brought along. We just needed to breath and be and see the Lord's creation and connect with Him again - not as servants, but as sons and daughters in whom He is already well pleased because of Christ within us. 

The wasn't a point, but there was purpose in the rest. 

Grace. Grace was the purpose in the rest. 

And maybe that's not a fitting message for Monday morning when all the things are a flutter and buzzing around you. 

Or maybe it is. 

There doesn't have to be a point. 

But there can be a purpose. 

on church planting & provision

By the time this posts, it will have been a little over a month since my last update about our church plant and we will have had our second service. For a catch up - Nick (my husband) and I are planting a church in Charleston, SC. We moved in June 2013 with five other friends and spent our first six months here acclimating to the city, meeting our neighbors, praying, and building the early culture of our church. On January 19th, we launched with our first public service and we're meeting monthly till September on Sunday mornings, but weekly we're having family groups. To read a bit more about our church planting story - here are some catch up posts: 

Chest Pains & Church Planting - thoughts before our move to Charleston
The Story of Sending - leaving Indiana  
Being Missional in the Thick of It - part of our plan 
The Story of a Church Plant - our first service

We sat the other night with our friend Brittany and even though we weren't meaning to, we ended up spending an hour or so just telling her our story. Brittany lives with us, she has for almost five months, and I've known her fairly well for over two years - but somehow there felt like huge chunks of our life that she didn't know about. Like, for instance? We lived in some intensely bad financial situations for a few years. Like, well below the poverty line bad. There were super dark days where we'd gather up our quarters and our dimes to buy enough bread and peanut butter to last us a few days or we'd pray for just enough gas to get to church and home. Our hard financial season isn't something we are embarrassed about, and even though it was incredibly difficult - it was in those days that we got to truly live the gospel with one another. We were a far cry from the young and hopeful couple that had gotten married a few years earlier, we were just busted kids having kids trying to do ministry and figure life out. 

I don't mind remembering those hard days for another reason, and that is because we truly learned that the Lord provides. Though our bank account was bleak and the economy was tanking, we never went hungry and our kids never missed a meal. We were never evicted and our power wasn't ever turned off. Our Father worked straight up miracles over and over again to take care of us. And now, we can boldly pray with confidence when people we love are struggling with finances. We can look them in the eye and tell them - He will provide, and then walk with them because that particular struggle will never be quite so terrifying to us again. 

The bad news in this story is that I somehow stopped really praying for provision. I trusted God for provision and learned to thank God for how He'd provide financially, but I stopped seeing the other needs in my life as something I could cry out to Him and ask Him to meet. I'd find myself slumping forward into my own reality, assuming it would "always be this way" in several different areas of life. 

The other day a friend challenged me because I said "that's just the way it is" regarding two separate things in the same conversation. And I'm so glad she did. My personal issues, our circumstances, pain in relationships, issues with our kids - that's never just the way it is in the Lord's economy, right? All things are subject to Him and He can provide, shift, grow, and change our circumstances however He sees fit. When we ask Him for something, His answer may not always be "yes, right away!" - but He is still good and wants us to ask. 

In light of that - here are some things I've seen him provide (outside of money) for us in church planting so far. 
- A few times when we've really needed it, friends (and new friends) have gotten in our face and asked us how they can pray for and/or serve us. Nick and I tend to plow ahead without asking for help, and these people in our life are really helping us start new rhythms. 
- One day when I was particularly burdened by church-related meetings, my mom texted me and asked if I could stop by the place she was having lunch. It was 2pm and I hadn't eaten. She held my baby, ordered me some sweet potato fries and just let me talk for a minute. There have been so many little provision-like-moments like this in the past month.
- The Lord provided a worship leader for our monthly service in January, February, and we already have someone lined up for March. 
- Our "team" has almost doubled in a month. In the midst of people visiting and figuring us out, we've had a handful of people say they're all in and jump beside us to serve and move forward as a church. This has been beautiful and so encouraging. 
- I feel like the Lord is providing such sweet intimacy with Nick and I as we navigate these early months. It's been a huge blessing to turn to one another and then the Lord together for wisdom. 

So I'm learning. I'm learning to see my needs, learning to believe He wants good for me, and remembering to ask my Father for help. In all the things. 

Whether you're a church planter's wife or in ministry or not, I'm sure you've seen the Lord provide in ways you didn't imagine possible you've seen Him provide for things you forgot to ask for. I'd love to hear from y'all - what are those things? 

the story of a church plant

Big life events are my favorite. 
Births. Big family trips. Birthdays and super special date nights. 
I love the days that feel electric and different, the days that feel jittery and magical. 
I'd always expected the day our church plant launched to feel like that, but it didn't. 
It felt real and just right. It felt special, for sure, but also super known - like a dream I'd dreamt over and over and over again, only to live it out in real life after waking up. 

I want to gather up those days and hours surrounding the first service with twine and hang them on the wall like some piece of abstract art. I'm a memory replayer and right now, a night of fun sounds like a cup of coffee and a couch to myself - to lay back and recount all the conversations and the faces and the feelings. But. The best part about church planting (so far) is that it's only just begun. That first launch was so fun and fulfilling, but it just keeps going now. And I love that. 

But while I'm here, why not go ahead and write the play by play? 
For God's glory and my heart's gratitude. 

Thursday 1/16
Thursday was a big old fat day. It was Nick's birthday, we were having a huge sale in the shop, the Morgans were arriving to celebrate the first Gospel Community service with us, AND my kids were out of school. You know those days that you need to go perfectly? That was Thursday for us. It started rougher than rough at 6am when I fell all the way down the stairs, bruising and bloodying a huge portion of my body and waking up all four kids. Thirty minutes later, Cannon dropped my iPhone into a cup of coffee. By 7am, I felt done for. I had a whole house to clean, a husband to celebrate, kids to entertain and we had a church to plant. I took a whole lot of deep breaths and two Aleve, asked God for joy, went to breakfast with Nickers, asked my mom and sister for kid help, and thanked the Lord for AppleCare insurance on my phone. Many errands and loads of laundry later, my kids were home and thrilled to see the Morgan boys just arriving from Indiana. We did our best to get 8 kids to sleep in two bedrooms and the four of us snuck out for a late birthday dinner for Nick. It was such a sweet break to pause and celebrate. 

these guys. made the weekend so sweet. 

Friday 1/17 
Friday was a flurry of kid and toys and noise and fun. Nick spent the bulk of the day finishing up sermon prep, there were people in and out of the house all day, just like I like it. My heart was super expectant for what the Lord was going to do, but it was a really nice distraction to just be about the actual physical people in our home rather than focusing on the big thing coming to fruition that we'd been working at for so long. 

this was half of our crew before going door to door to hand out invitation

Saturday 1/18

Before the day got started, I snuck away to the guest room where Nick and I were sleeping, took off my glasses and wept for about ten minutes into my hands. I wept with joy and gratitude for how the Lord had sustained us over the years and in thanksgiving for what He was about to do. I put my glasses back on and tried to pull my junk together as best I could. 

That morning brought over 20 people, our core team and friends from nearby and far away, into our home so that we could all go out into the neighborhood. We spent time praying and then split up to go pass out invitations. We went door to door, I went with Nick and our boys. I love seeing him in his element and it was a joy to walk with him. He'd knock on the door, we'd greet and explain we were planting a church, then as we walked away - pray for the people we'd met or the house we left an invitation at. The kids were cuter than cute and I think they were starting to feel such sweet ownership over the church. My heart was swelling with excitement at this point. 

Saturday afternoon my mom blessed my face off and took all our kids to her house. I spent about ten minutes sitting in silence, thirty minutes straightening up the living room for the beating it had taken, and I was a new woman. That night we went to dinner with the Morgans and came home to finish up a few church admin things - children's ministry check in sheets, coloring sheets, order of service. Nick and I talked before bed and both said - God is the same He's been the past few years. He's the same God who has loved us when we've failed and He's the same God who's helping us plant a church. We did a little cuddling, took some melatonin and went to bed. 

my mom made this pastor's wives pack for me complete with mints, feminine products,
Tide togo & headache medicine. She's the best. 

Sunday 1/19
During the second or third song, I snuck away from my front row spot, grabbed a cup of coffee and stood in the back. Almost all the seats were filled, worship was going beautifully, and I could hear the kids muffled laughter in children's ministry next door. People we'd prayed would come had come and people we'd never met (but had prayed for) had come. There were four people/families who had heard of our church via instagram or Facebook, which blessed my heart to no end. These two things we do - church and online, can often feel like they're competing, but in the end - they're both all about His Kingdom. Nick preached a message that seemed so incredibly fitting for the audience that we couldn't have anticipated. We've been praying for years for a church where people could be our family before they were a part of God's family. We've prayed that we wouldn't be just a holding place for Christians, but a home for those who have relationships with the Lord and those who don't. He preached the gospel honestly and invitingly, somehow spurring us all on - wherever we were. 

oh swoon. 

My favorite part was after the service, when we started "Starting Point", our info session for people who were ready to walk with us and move forward as a church family. So few people left and it seemed that all those people sitting were genuinely interested. They wanted to know about family groups and discipleship and I wanted to know about them. 

We went to lunch with the core team and then some and everyone came back to our house for football watching. By 6pm, I was feeling donezo and by 10pm, I was a hot mess. But we'd made it through the day. We'd launched our church plant. We said goodbye to the Morgans and I laid on the floor of the guest room - sending texts to the people who'd come and shown their support. To the family members who served in children's ministry and the faces that made my day. 

Monday 1/20
I told him, "I feel inadequate. I don't think I can do this!" The more I thought about it, I wanted to back up. I'm going to make a terrible church planter's wife. Nick smiled at me and put an arm on my shoulder, "Good. I feel inadequate too". We went on to talk about how our ministry and church ideas have always been based on continually needing the gospel, continually being changed by the Good News that only God is good and we need Him. I suppose now that we're leading the church, this will still be the same for us. We are needy and inadequate still. 

my house, just how I like it. 

Tuesday 1/21 
We had our first family group with over 25 people. There was Sprite all over the floor and kids all over the place. But, oh man - I loved it so much. I love these people so much, the new friends and the ones who have so faithfully given the last few months of their lives to walk with us. The ones who aren't here yet, and mostly - the man who got dreamy and bold and told me five years ago that he felt called to to plant a church called Gospel Community on a snowy night in Seattle. 

I find myself just saying thank you thank you thank you to the Lord under my breath for all that He's done in the last years and weeks to get us here. We're inadequate and He is not. We're weak and His power is made perfect in us. 
We are living out Gospel Community.
And I can't wait. 

It's Saturday night & I'm the pastor's wife

It's Saturday night, the night before our prayer service/test run of our church service launch. 

There's so much to catch you up on, I'm not sure where to start. 

Back in December of 2008, Nick told me he wanted to plant a church called Gospel Community. It was a snowy night in Seattle and I was angry. I didn't want to be a church planter's wife - I wanted to be a pastor's wife. I didn't want to move, I wanted to live in Seattle forever. I didn't want things to be unknown, I wanted to follow an easy and structured path that included private schools and money for manicures. I'll never forget when he said it in an almost bribery-based way, "but Jess! I want you to document it all. I want you to blog the whole thing, tell the story and encourage other women along the way!"

I sort of did and I sort of didn't. I've told you guys a good bit, and you've probably gathered - our life has been far from easy. We didn't just move once more. We moved six more times. Plus there was a three month span in there where we were essentially homeless and during that month we shifted about a dozen times. Money, or the lack of it, genuinely was the least of our concerns. We were determined to plant a church in Boston, fundraised and started to make our way there - only to be shut down by a horrible season for our family, my struggle with depression, and basically the Lord's will closing that door very resolutely. We found ourselves in Columbia and then Indiana, assisting another church and that church very quickly decided they wanted Nick as one of their pastors. We dove in head first to small business. The Lord put Charleston on Nick's heart and I waited and held my breath. I waited for him to slam that door closed. 

But He didn't. Rather, He really went before us in every sense. Each and every time we put up a barrier, He broke it. Each and every time we asked for wisdom and waited for rebuke, we got blessing. The Lord provided what seems to be the perfect house for us, the perfect street, the most amazing school for our kids with a newly remodeled building on King Street that just so happens to be thrilled to let us have church there. I'm not saying that it's all been seamless and without struggle, but it's been very different than having to knock doors down. And now, all of a sudden, I find myself one week out from our official church planting and I haven't said much. I haven't told the story. 

I'm not sure how I could have told it and completely protected the hearts of those I love. There were dark days and long years (about 4 to be exact) where Nick had every reason to doubt the call the Lord gave him. Things would move forward on the internet in our business, but the plant seemed on pause. And when we moved to Fort Wayne I didn't know how to tell the stories, even my own stories, of what it was like to be a transient new pastor's wife - trying to adjust to the culture and let the Lord grow a culture in me at the same time. It didn't seem right to tell the stories of the hard meetings he had or the spiritual victories that weren't necessarily mine. But I find a hesitation to begin telling the story now, for fear that you'll think everything has just gone our way. 

I'm sweeping my house tonight, thinking how pastors-wifey this feels. Prepping the home and laying out clothes so that tomorrow morning, all will run smoothly. It's funny that now it comes instinctively, when five years ago, on that snowy night in Seattle I couldn't imagine how I'd ever manage in this role. I couldn't imagine it every coming to fruition, but the Lord spoke it all into place. It's not as tidy as I would have pictured it. There were lots of tears, and many years, mistakes, successes, and a million lessons learned. But here we are, planting a church. 

Right now, we're a super small group of believers, trying to live as family and reach our neighborhood. There are eight of us who live here and two who are on their way. We are about the gospel and community. We don't feel confident in anything but Jesus. Our church is based around the belief that God can and will change us by the grace of the gospel, that He will utilize community to do that gospel work, and He has commissioned us to love our neighbor as ourselves. Our to-do list regarding the lost is very simple: begin with prayer, look and listen, eat together, serve the city, and share the truth of Jesus Christ. We've spent the last few months storming as a team, praying together, learning from our pastor and one another, meeting people, finding our rhythms and now - ready or not, we're starting a service. 

I really love being my pastor's wife. He's been pastoring me unofficially and off the charts for almost 12 years now. He's been leading me to Jesus, walking with me beside the still waters. We've bumped together in life rafts after failing, flailing, and nearly sinking. We've laughed and we've cried a lot. Correction, I've cried. A lot. 

But now it's time and I'll tell this story. 

We are planting a church. 

It's Saturday night & I'm the pastor's wife. 

We would super appreciate your prayers over the next week. If you want to learn more about Gospel Community - you can find our website here. We're on social media too - twitter, instagram, and facebook. 

missional in the thick of it || part one

Making Disciples.
Missional. 
Church planting. 
Neighbors. 
Prayer and Worship. 
Core Team. 
Pastoring. 
Apostles and Prophets. 
Mission and Vision. 

This is what we talk about in my home. Sure, we talk about blogs and small business. We talk about Montessori and pinterest and scripture prints. But we talk a LOT about church planting being that my husband is a church planter. We've been a part of several church plants over the past eight years, but in June things got really real when we moved to downtown Charleston, SC to plant a church of our very own. Just us and our sweet four kiddos, a lot of grace and some hopeful hearts. 

Over the past few months, a small core team has come around us to start the church with us and the Lord is absolutely moving and working and growing us. We are prayerfully moving towards gathering outside of our home in January (a real live church service!) and we are really excited about the future of Gospel Community Charleston. But for all the talking, praying, planning, and church planting we're doing - it is one of the least things I blog or talk about online. It is a tender spot  for me as we are still doing so much growing and learning, but I want to begin to share some bits of our story and what the Lord is teaching me as we move forward. 

telling the story of sending

Five years ago, when we very first started talking about church planting, I was a family-mama-blogger writing to a much smaller crowd in a much less intentional way. To be totally honest, I wasn't the most receptive to church planting when Nick first pitched the idea to me. I'll never forget how it went down because we were snowed in by a massive storm in Seattle and Nick and I were stuck in the house together for five days when he first laid the idea. I told him "no way, no how" but he asked me to pray and five days later, I told him in a relenting, defeated way - "yes, yes, ok." During that massive snowstorm, I remember sitting on our bed in Seattle and Nick pointing at the computer while I was blogging and he said, "And I want you to tell the whole story. Blog through it. Encourage other church planter's wives and women who are terrified of what their husband is called to."

Now it's five years later and my heart is in a much different place. We've served at one church plant and he's pastored at another. We're moving to Charleston this week and I'm more than happy to identify with being a church planter's wife - not from a place of pride or knowing anything at all, but from the humbled place of a woman who has had the mess loved out of her and who has received grace upon grace when it comes to the body of Christ. Nick and I are truly equipped by the gospel-based community that has been poured out on us over the past few years. I haven't written a ton about the ministry that goes on in our churches over the past few years, but I would like to begin to tell the stories. Whether you're a church planter's wife or a pastor's wife or a wife or a future wife - I pray that as the grace pours out of my cracked places and words, you'll be blessed and encouraged. 

The stories I have right now are all sending stories - little glimpses of ways we've been put into that I want to remember and cherish and hold on the days when we might feel alone, tired, or beat up by ministry. 

Last week, we had a big fun goodbye leadership dinner at the Arnolds. First of all, we love our friends, the Arnolds, and their house so much. It's a beautiful family home on a ton of land and every corner of the home feels magical and loving. The Arnolds have seven kids and they're some of the most relaxed and intentional and best parents I've ever met. I literally could write an entire post on Hannah and Bryce and what a blessing they've been to us and Gospel Community Charleston, so I might just save more on them for later. 

Anyhow, we had our big leadership dinner at their home - there were probably 50 of us including adults and kids - just enjoying a sweet Indiana night. All the other pastors and deacons in Indiana are real guys-guys. They're into shooting guns and they know how to fix stuff. They constantly pick on Nick for being a city boy, which he doesn't mind in the slightest. Anyhow, for this last get together, they were going to Indianify him just a little so they set up a mini shooting range behind the Arnold's house and spelled out "N I C K" on the targets. 

All the men started hauling their massive bags of guns out to the targets, so to one up them - Nick went to our van and grabbed Benja's Toy Story backpack with a toy gun in it. He slung it over his shoulder and walked proudly to go shoot some guns with the guys. Hannah and I and the other mamas kept the kids a safe ways back and later all the kids went on a trailer ride with Bryce. We ended the night with a bonfire and couch bonding and even though I hadn't slept at all the night before (up late launching Refresh), I was willing my eyes to stay open so I could keep soaking up time with these precious people. 

The leadership at Gospel Community Fort Wayne taught us so much. In word, in deed, in happy and laughing times and in the storms and bumping up against one another that we did. I see now that the gospel is as alive in the cornfields of Indiana as it is anywhere else. It's exciting and thrilling and life giving and life changing. It transforms hanging out and fellowshipping into true community, into family because we're inextricably bonded by grace that flows down from the cross. We can be so crazy different from one another, we can disagree and see one another's sin and still love each other. We can not agree on many things and agree on the only thing that matters all at once. 

We can be Gospel Community.  

psssst: today is the last day to get The Refresh Book for $4.99, 

if you haven't bought your copy - buy it now! 

the wild anchor

I first wrote this post in July 2010 and it's still one of my most read posts. It's absolutely still one of my biggest prayers for myself - 3 years later. I felt like it really applies today as we're leaving Fort Wayne to move to Charleston to plant Gospel Community Charleston. Pray for us? Thank you. 

The Wild Anchor: Diary of a church planter's wife, volume 2.

I was going to write a whole post on how my friend asked me to basically speak to her in code about our upcoming move. Because it's so dependent on fundraising and ticket prices and finishing well here - we found that my baby wipe purchases would be a good indicator. Last week Nick told me, "don't buy baby wipes in bulk - we need to act like the Isrealites and be ready to go when the Lord says go". He was half kidding. This week, we already needed more wipes (because we didn't buy bulk and because Glory steals them and cleans the whole house with them) so we made the executive decision to buy wipes in bulk, because come on - even if we leave before we use them all, it will be good to have some in our luggage.

So, my point is - I could write a whole post about instability and the questions that loom at the very, very, infant stages of a church plant or I could write about the redemptive truth of Christ that is keeping me sane and even excited in the midst of it.

I've been praying that I'd be the anchor. This whole year, I've been asking the Lord to make me like the fruitful forest of Isaiah 32. A place of peace, quietness, righteousness, and trust - forever for my family. I'll tell you what - this afternoon after our hellish Target trip to get more wipes, I felt much more like a psycho forest wildfire. Anyhow, my request - or even, my quest, has been the same with this church planting... that I'd be a place of peace and calm grounding our family together through transition. I've asked the Lord countless times to anchor myself to Him so that I won't waver or freak out or puke or sweat or cry when I think about how much I love stability and logistics and schedules. And not just for this month or two - but for the whole of our lives. I'd like to be so anchored to him, that two years from now when "church planting" becomes real life, I will be ready for whatever comes. Standing strong and steady, holding our family together with prayer and love and homemade cookies - an anchor.

Now here's the flipside.

At church today, we heard a sermon that was so provoking & beautiful for our season, I could've just choked. One of our pastors was preaching on the feeding of the five thousand and how the disciples were failing the test of believing Jesus could do what He said He could. If He could raise the dead, forgive sins, and turn water into wine - couldn't he feed five thousand if need be? Why do we domesticate Him and manage Him and ask Him for only things that we ourselves could do? To partially give Him credit and pat ourselves on the back?

And the Holy Spirit was provoking me. Again, about this issue. You - future/semi-present church planter's wife? Have you domesticated Him and figured Him out with excel spreadsheets and back-up plans and ideas of keeping your home safe from the wild of ministering to His people? Have your squelched your husband's sense of adventure that is gospel-centered for the sake of practicality and have you gone to bed doubting after only a few days of fundraising?

Yes, I have.

As a mother, I've made Him safe. I've tried to figure out discipline and strategies and meal plans and organization. I've fretted over unclean kitchen floors and laundry that goes on for days. I've made my job my idol and I've made the disdain of my job my ultimate need for repentance. Rarely do I let the Lord ravage me with His grace and mercy at 5:30 am. Because there is yoga to do & sippy cups to get ready and a house to manage.

It's a delicate balance, right? To be a wild anchor. To love the call of supporting your husband in ministry (or an office job, or whatever) so much that you're willing to sacrifice your own career or desires to build a home for your family. Sadly, once you start to conquer that selfish monster that promises you could have done it all better - you have a new battle of idolizing your own transformation into Martha Stewart, with your charts and your sweeping and your muffins. But this call is not safe at all. Not for any of us, women. It's not a return to idyllic Americana that I crave or that we're running towards. We want to be shocked by what Jesus has done in our own hearts - in our homes - so much so that it bleeds out into the communities that we're in. We want to pray prayers so LARGE that there is no way we could receive credit. 

We want to plant churches in places where there are a million good reasons not to go - 

and one good reason to do it anyway. Him.

The crowds He wants to feed.

I want to go and be a wild anchor amongst His people.

my story to tell.

my husband will probably not be happy that I posted this picture. he's lost about 30 lbs since this picture was taken.
But it makes me smile. We sat on these steps in the less than 10 degree cold and prayed for his ministry.
For our ministry. For the gospel to go forth. 

One night after the kids went to bed, I was laying on the bed watching Nick move around the room - putting up laundry and prepping his stuff for the week. The little wheels in my head were turning. 

"I think I'm starting to understand you, Nick. 
I knew when I met you that you were a church guy. Not just an attender, or a server - but a church guy. I knew you'd always want to give a little more and be a little more invested. 

But then the Lord called you to vocational ministry and that was interesting. I knew it meant a life of semi-set-apart. Probably making less money than some of our friends. But it was worth it. As long as he didn't call you to church planting. And I told you that, often. 

But then He did call you to church planting and I started to sweat a little. I don't like building things. I don't like pioneering. I'm so much more comfortable following than leading. I had grown so fond of the idea of being lost in a big church. Just one of the families. Just one of the pastor's wife. Church planting is all about getting your hands dirty. Opening your doors. That terrified me. 

On top of that, He ignited your heart for bi-vocational ministry. You fell in love with the idea of working in the world while working for the Lord. With relating to businessmen. With not being so heavenly minded that you're no earthly good. You didn't want to be the pastor who sat in Starbucks studying for your sermon all week and I could appreciate that. Even if it means double the work sometimes. 

And the cherry on top is that you let me enter into it with you. You don't just say 'this is my ministry. this is my work. this is my business.', you lovingly let me use my gifts and desires and passion to help build our business. You let me make the prints and write the words and have the conferences. While you send the prints and the emails and dream up the new websites and run the business. It's sometimes so messy - because nothing about our life is clear cut or normal or super easy for people to understand, but it's our life. 

And I love it. Even when it's messy. Even when it's hard. 
I love that you've led us here."

He let me process all that. And he smiled back at me. And said "Good."
And that was that. 

I remember four years ago, the Christmas that Nick sat me down and told me that the Lord was calling him to church planting. We were snowed in, in Seattle, and I was mad as fire. All I wanted was a normal life, and all I saw ahead of me was one of sacrifice. It took me five days of prayer and listening to him talk to me - tell me about the people who needed the gospel. Tell me why we had to go. At the end of those days, when I was being nicer to him, he said - "And Jess, I want you to blog it all. I want you to tell the story of us planting. Encourage other women who might feel like you do - women with husbands who need to do something because the Lord has called them to it and their wives are terrified. Write to them."

It's been four years and I think I've done that some and in some ways I haven't. 
I've written about how WE had to receive the gospel in some hard ways before we could minister to others. I've written about our moves and our family. But I've never found a healthy balance of talking about the church, his ministry, my role in it, our struggles, His victories. 
And yet -- it's this huge chunk of our life. 

And maybe this is just the beginning of the story. 
So I think I'll get back to telling it. 

This is where it starts. 
In so many ways, I miss that five years ago life. In a city we loved, with nights to ourselves and normal rhythms. Days where we didn't feel the weight of building - churches or businesses. Days where I knew my role so clearly and I could check all the things off my list and give myself a gold star for taking care of the house and kids. And do it all over the next day.

But I love looking at him and seeing the Lord work. 
I love watching him build all the things - with his hands and his mind and his gifts. 
I love writing the words and designing the prints. 
I love the kids and the house too. 
I love squishing in the office with all the girls on Wednesday night for prayer. 
I love this story He's writing. 

And I'm excited to keep telling it. 

perspective

Here's a life update. 

Last week I didn't blog, totally unintentionally. 
I just couldn't fit it in. I was busy shifting my perspective. 
We're still not in Boston, but here's an example of a perspective shift. 
Perspective 1: We're still not in Boston, boo. I hate being a burden to family and fundraising is hard and living in transition is hard and this is so scary and what if the Lord isn't good and what if He called us to something too hard for us to even start?!

Perspective 2: Still not in Boston, but things are progressing! God is moving on our behalf and my husband is graciously moving slowly and surely to provide for us, so we don't rush into a bad situation financially! It's a little tough to feel like we're in the way all the time, but instead of dwelling on how we feel like a burden - we're trying to be a blessing! Serve where we're at! Love people where we're at! Preach the gospel to our little family day in and day out to practice how we're going to preach it (with our words and lives) in Boston! We're here now, but we'll be there soon!

You like how that works? 
Me too:) 
But it takes about a whole week of non-blogging to shift into that. 


Now let me tell you something sweet about transition. 
If you find yourself in the process of fundraising to plant a church and living with your best friends/family and in a house with six children under seven - rejoice! What fun! But also, have a plan for 4pm. 
Because if you thought 4pm was grim with 3 kids, it's a whole 'nother story with 6. And thus, we invented 4pm driveway time. 

The Rubes (my beautiful gestational sister) and I just block the driveway off with a car, pull out scooters, bikes, tricycles, helmets, balls, chalk, and whatever else our children seem to be interested in. Then we grab two chairs for ourselves, a cup of coffee, some magazines, and we make it till dinner time. 
Some might see driveway time as a burden, but you're so wrong. 
It's a blessing. 
A miracle even. 

*please note: beautiful pregnant Ruby was absent this day from driveway time, so Hunkle Nick stepped in and assisted. And then all of the children assisted him in prepping Walters Baby Quatros crib! Babies and sanders! Wonderful combo:) 

I'm too little, aka - the feast of booths.

My kids are all different with their fears.

Glory, she's an irrational fear kind of girl. Airplanes, boats, swimming? No fear.

Cats, loud voices, and green shoes? Terrifying.

Benja - he's not scared of anything. Except me walking away and a meal being served a few seconds too late.

But Elias - he's your regular old typical-fears-kind of kid.

He's scared of new people, large crowds, big bodies of water, and heights. He likes to talk through his fears and the more language he acquires, the more I love his sweet little heart and hearing about the worries that plague him.

Today we were driving over a beautiful South Carolina bridge and he told me promptly,

Elias: "I would like to go on a boat again one day, but I don't want to jump off the boat. Like Hunkle Josh or Cici (our family members who did a rope swing in front of him one day at the lake). I can go on a boat, but I'm too leetle to go swimming in the water."

my response: "Well, Elias - Glory is little and she loves to go swimming! You're really not that little! And mommy can help you in the water and you have that great bathing suit that Nonny got you with the floats in it that helps you swim! Let's try again soon."

E: "no. no. I'm too little."

me: "Hm. Well, you know - our whole life is about God helping little people do big things! For His Glory! Let's talk about it."

E: "no. no. I'm too little."

me: "Well - think of all the things God has done! He made you. He made the ocean. He gave us the great gift of His son, Jesus. He made your favorite foods and gave us your favorite songs. He gives us monies so we can take care of you. He gives us all our food. He makes us happy and He makes us brave! He can do so many big things - so I bet if we asked Him, He'd help you do a big thing like swimming - even though you feel little!

E: "Mommy. I'm not talking about God. I'm talking about ME. I'm too little."

.......................

Today I went to a bible study with my sister where I heard all this goodness about The Feast of Booths. Here's a little of what I heard.

Jews have celebrated Sukkot, The Feast of Booths since the time of the Old Testament. They take a week, and live in tents, to remember the fragile dwellings the Isrealites lived in during their 40 years in the dessert after the Exodus from Egypt. The festival is all about remembering the dessert, thanking God for all that He's done - while still begging for the Messiah to come. Each day they read Psalm 118:25, "Save us, we pray, O Lord! O Lord, we pray, give us success!". Then on the seventh day, they circle the temple seven times - crying "Hosanna!" which means "save us!".

Now of course, we are blessed by our Father with the knowledge that Jesus is our Messiah. He did come to save us - to give us redemption, to turn our hearts, and give life to our souls. He actually even made it clear at one particular Feast of Booths. In John 7, we hear that even as others were seeking to kill him, He waited till the exact right time to show just how He intended to rescue. John 7:37 says that He waited until the last day, when everyone was circling around the temple crying and screaming for a Messiah, begging "Save us!". At that time, He stood up and cried out, "If anyone thirts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.".

So beautiful.

.............................

I'm just too little.

No offense God, but this is too much pressure and I'm just a mom. And not a good one at that.

And. It's getting a little stressful and hard and it hasn't really even started. None of it. I'm only a few years into parenting and it's already hard and when mothers of teenagers tell me it only gets harder, I want to puke in my mouth a little. And church planting. I'm only the wife and it's already hard. And we're not even there yet.

And marriage. Come on - it's been five years. All the big marriage studies say five years is nothing. We haven't hit our stride or our hardest year yet.

And the economy. And my jiggly arms. And apartments are too expensive in Boston. And the news on the tv. And raising teenagers. And missing friends. And sex trafficking.

And so on and so forth.

Seriously - no offense, Lord.

I'm not really talking about you. Just me. I'm so little.

I think I'll be holding my own mini-Feast of Booths next week.

We're already basically in a tent, except we'll be in the gracious and beautiful home of our family, but we're displaced none-the-less. We need to remember the dessert and being brought out. We need to cry to the Messiah for all the big things that we just cannot tackle, can't even wrap our minds around. I need to look up, and see Him - saying, "If anyone thirsts....".

I may even convince Nick to sleep in the backyard with me.

For one night at least:).

transition: on purpose

passing back a banana clip

In the past few days, we've done about seven hours in the car with a three year old, two year old, and one year old. Now listen - at some point, there is not much you can do as you're driving with that many basically-babies. At some point, you have to kind of tune them out and read a book. But - before it gets that bad, a plan is helpful. With my kids, the plan is to gather as many every day materials that they will find fascinating for whole minutes at a time. Toothbrushes, cell phone chargers, hair clips, cell phones, pens, grocery receipts, earrings, you name it. For whatever reason - normal everyday objects trump coloring books and kids movies every day with my kooks. So what I'm saying is this - if I just jumped in the car with no preparation, that car ride would hit me like a lamp falling on my face (too soon?), busting me up in all sorts of ways. Those crazies would eat me a live and we'd just possibly never make it to our destination.

then, it was too soon.

The first few days I was here on the east coast, I was such a weirdo. I couldn't hold a conversation without tearing up or falling asleep. A basic question, "where are you from?" became a ten minute conversation that I needed a glass of water halfway through to complete. Just plain sad about leaving Seattle, flirting around the edges of excited about moving to Boston, overwhelmed at the transition in between. It was too much. After my first forty-eight hours or so, my mom explained that they were refraining from asking me too many church-planting-y questions on purpose, so I wouldn't have a mental breakdown and I was thankful. The next day, I spent time with my stepmom, who was preparing to move to Germany from Malaysia, after a two month long stint in North Carolina (which makes our Seattle/Boston adventure look a little tame). I was asking her, "how do I cope? how do I be sad or get excited and raise three kids and blah blah blah". She looked at me very honestly and said, "you just don't think about it". So for that space in time, I was more than thankful for the people who didn't ask me to think about it and gave me a free pass to live a little less on purpose.

but, now.

But now we're almost a month in and hopefully just a few weeks out from living in Boston and it's time to live on purpose. To live in transition, on purpose. It's time to cry when one of my best friends in Seattle has her baby that I want to hold and to spend hours on craigslist in Boston, getting excited. It's time to pray fervently for the people we'll meet in Charlestown and to pray fervently with my kids when this transition becomes too much for them. It's time to finish fundraising and tell as many people to pray for the gospel going forth in Boston. It's time to sit for thirty minutes or so with my grandmother and explain to her what, "planting a church" means and to love the excitement in her eyes as she understands. It's time to get these dumb stitches out. Time to let my husband talk for hours on date nights and get some business cards printed. Basically, I've just been letting myself live like a little chew toy that a dog nudges around a house, without any will or purpose in my days - letting each emotion, event, person, and day scoot me around and have it's way with my heart. It's time to get up early again and let Jesus have His way with my heart. To let the comfort of following him trump any and all transitional feeling.

Amen? Amen.

you cute little church planters, you.

Nick and I were talking this morning and there is one thing I would like to say to our community here before I leave. You have actually taught us what community is. I literally don't know if there is ANYWHERE in the entire world where the church is so beautiful. In the past two and a half years, you have loved us relentlessly and encouraged us passionately. You've sacrificed time and emotion and money and anything you could, just for us - some normal people. Just like you do everyone else.

And in the past thirty six hours, you've gone beyond most people's wildest imaginations of community. You've prayed for us more than I've ever thought possible. Prayed for our marriage, our future friends, our children, our house, our rest, our flights, our health. You've laid hands on us and one of you even gave me a sweet little back rub while you prayed. You've played with us. Hosted us. Hosted as many people as possible so that we could say goodbye one last time. Ok, now just once more. You've given to our church. This is never how we imagined fundraising would go - little bit by little bit, given all by super sacrificial friends. You've stuffed checks in our back pockets and cash in our purses.

You've cried with us. You've laughed with us. You've bought our children more gifts than should be legal and you've basically bought out the bulk section of "natural and healthy kid treats and snacks" at your local grocery stores. You've stopped by and stopped by again, right at the right time. You've hugged us and sobbed with us in shopping mall parking lots. You've gone grocery shopping for us and written down scripture for us that one of us will very likely need to reference very often.

We're the definition of weak, undeserving, and the least of these. You've encouraged us and reminded us of the power of Christ in us and the promise that He'll work through us. Somehow, even at your absolute loving-est, you've enabled us to move past broken and sad to hopeful and excited. Because if you all love us this well, we HAVE to go and love Boston like this. In Jesus' name.

You've basically begun planting our church.

By living it out with us, in front of us, for God's Glory.

Thank you is only the beginning.

The only way we know how to thank you, to thank Him for giving us this community is to go and try our hardest to show others what you've shown us.

We love you.