I’ve got this weed in the front of my house that is kind of bugging me. I’ve got to pull it out of there, but look at it! It’s huge! And, once I pull it out, what am I going to put in there? Besides I haven’t really had the time or energy for a big project like that. Remember, I’m trying to be still.
I am being still, by the way. I mean, we haven’t even got a church yet! I know, I know, I’ve only been here four weeks.
The first week, we missed church because we were in Indianapolis waiting for a tow truck to come and get the keys out of the locked car. Yeah, I did that. Sigh.
The second week, my husband preached at a nearby congregation that is pastored by a seminary classmate. I was welcomed to sit with the regulars and introduced around to everyone like they were my family. After service, we went to lunch with our seminary friends. Bliss.
The third week, we were traveling. We were in Chicago collecting a daughter, so we worshipped at her community church. It’s a young congregation that meets in a school auditorium — great music, great message, great people.
Today, the fourth week, we are going to worship with students at the Concordia Chapel before we join them on their annual service day.
I have no idea what is happening next week.
It’s ok, really. It’s just weird.
We’ve been church workers for as long as we’ve known each other, so we have rarely been without a church. We were married in a church where my husband was on staff. When he went to graduate school, we moved to a small town, he introduced himself to the pastor, and before we knew it, we were doing youth work. We moved again for his internship, he introduced himself to a pastor, and before we knew it, he was on staff — for twelve years. We went to seminary and were assigned to a congregation. Then, for his pastoral internship, we moved to the church that would become his first call. We were there eight years altogether.
Last year, when he moved here, and I stayed there. I was in a strange place. My husband, the pastor, was no longer the pastor of the church where I belonged. I worshipped there sometimes, and the people were great, but it just felt weird. I found a few other congregations to visit, and even frequent, but I knew I wasn’t going to really invest because of the pending move.
Now I have moved, but I think it’s going to be a while before we really connect to a congregation. There’s no rush, really. It’s ok to take a minute to breathe.
God has kind of designed it that way. He has my husband preaching at area churches to promote Concordia once or twice a month. We still have a bit of traveling to do. And, He knows us. He knows that once we commit, we will really commit, and I sense that this period of not having a church home is part of the being still portion of this journey.
Have I mentioned that I am not accustomed to being still? I’m not accustomed to not knowing. I’m not accustomed to unfinished business. I’m not accustomed to having a gigantic weed in the front of my house.
But, I am learning to just chill. Be patient. Wait on the Lord. Be still.
I’m pretty sure that I will one day pull that weed out of the ground, it may take some help from some passing football players. Maybe they will also help me plant some flowers and spread some mulch.
And, I’m pretty sure that we will find a church home. At just the right time. When we’re ready. He knows when that is.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”