My Journey of Planting a Church is somewhat emotional right now. Today I look around at an apartment that is the first place that has felt like home to me since being married. I think about packing it up and closing the doors. It’s difficult right now, because I really like where I live. I feel settled. Comfortable. Pleasant. And yet, I know that we are about to leave. We are going to move to a very uncomfortable place, and I am sure that I don’t know even the half of it. Boulder is so unsafe to me. Vail is so safe. Boulder is so foreign. Vail, I get. I feel like Boulder is an unreachable endeavor and God is saying, “Go!” Everything in me questions that small voice. Go where? Go to a place where other church plants have left? Go to a place that hates Jesus?
I am leaving what I love for what appears right now, to be nothing. We are leaving the comfort of stability, to live off of what? Faith?
Faith is hard. Right now I get that. My physical surroundings are speaking to me louder than my faith is. Why leave this? Why go? Is Boulder even ready to hear the Gospel? Will our journey be in vain? I’m leaving everything- my family, my home, our jobs and a church that we have labored for intensely. We started the youth group, are we supposed to just pass it off now? We wept over the schools and what could become a mid-week service for high schoolers. We prayed for those who do not know, that they might come to know. Am I supposed to be happy about leaving all of that? Our youth group is finally a group. They love Thursday nights, and I love seeing their faces. Do we just shut the door and walk away?
And what if it doesn’t work out? Where do we go? Do we go from church planter to youth pastor again? I don’t think we will ever be able to go back. The decision is so final, so definite. We don’t get to be wrong about it, do we?
I ask for confirmation. And though we have received some… for me, I still need to hear that still small voice. That’s how God speaks to me. That’s when I know it’s Him. It’s that pull in my heart that is slight, but severe. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. I cannot help but beg for it, because we are being forced to do nothing but walk in faith. And as we walk, I feel my heart walking away from something and into nothing. The Israelites mean something to me now. They left slavery and though it seemed good, as they entered a land of nothing – they doubted. I don’t want to live like that. Moses tells them in Deuteronomy 2:7, “You have lacked nothing.” I know that this is also true for me. I have truly lacked nothing! And I know in my core, that as I go, I will lack nothing.