breaking silence, life in the city, and blooming late

It’s been roughly two years since I’ve really tried to write. Oddly enough, in moving past the self-imposed silence I’m struggling with where to begin.

For starters, this month marks the one-year anniversary of our relocation into the city of Springfield.

Imagine New York City.

Take away 8 million people, the skyscrapers, the international appeal, and engaging nightlife and you’ve got Springfield. I’m fond of saying that we’ve got all the big city problems, with no big city fun. To be sure, ours is anything but a sexy city but it’s the city that God’s called us to.

Understand that prior to leaving seminary, some eight years ago, I began to sense God leading us toward urban ministry. Along the way there’ve been pit stops. Each of these seasons built upon the other, each instrumental in bringing both clarity and conviction, hurt and healing. Yet as God’s purposes continue to unfold, we are indeed discovering the nuances of our calling.

And in placing us, He’s also provided for us.

I remember driving the streets, praying for a home. And while housing in economically depressed areas is cheap, most need an inordinate amount of repair. This fact, coupled with the reality that home repairs tempt me to curse, meant we needed something relatively move-in-ready.

As God would see fit the one house we had our eye on was placed on the market shortly before our home in Alabama sold. Being close to church and nestled within the southern quadrant of the city, the location was perfect. Not only was the location fitting but the house, though built in 1926, was well cared for. We didn’t even paint a single wall. Our stuff was brought in, placed, and life continued rolling.

With one exception, the first night in our new home our TV was stolen.

When we realized the lift, we just looked at each other and by God’s grace began to laugh. It was an odd moment. Janna and I laughed for no other reason than we knew God was with us, that He’d been preparing us for the journey ahead, and that, no matter what, we are co-heirs in the grace of life, laboring side by side.

Moses was a late bloomer. For years he knew what God had called him to do yet he was 80 by the time he got about the business. The way I figure, we've got 43 years on Moses.

Grace and Peace.