It has been just over a month since we moved from Virginia, and I have tried to view this season as a sabbatical. In truth, it has been a complicated one. At times stressful and uncertain, yet at other moments unexpectedly refreshing. It has not always felt like Sabbath, but there have been real glimpses of rest beneath the weight.
This season has stripped away many of the familiar markers that once defined my days. No preaching calendar. No counseling appointments. No syllabus to build toward or papers due at midnight. For the first time in a long time, the rhythms that shaped my identity—pastor, student, shepherd, teacher—have been quiet. That silence has been unsettling, but also revealing.
Graduation was a gift. Completing both degrees marked a lifelong achievement—one that for many years felt beyond reach—and we are deeply grateful. And yet, for the first time in my life, something felt… off. Not empty, but disoriented. Celebration mixed with a strange sense of suspension. For the first time, there was no church to shepherd (officially) and no school to attend. That absence has been sobering in ways I didn’t expect.
Many days have been filled with resumes, questionnaires, interviews, emails, and long conversations. Opportunities have surfaced—and then quietly slipped away. The parsonage opportunity we were prayerfully discerning seems to have closed. I was told I was perfect for a job with a non-profit, but because I'm a church planter, they feared I was committed long-term, so that went away. Conversations with a church in Williamsburg about a bivocational role have been encouraging, yet unresolved. Here in Illinois, local ministry options have largely dried up. Doors have opened just enough to invite hope, then closed again just enough to call for trust. I’m a finalist at a church in North Carolina, but that would allow us to visit but not to plant and disciple our Red Letter family, not in person, at least.
This has forced us to ask deeper questions—not just where are we going next, but who are we becoming while we wait? Are we willing to let God shape us when the outcome is unclear? Can we trust Him not only with the destination, but with the timing?
In the midst of this, we are grateful for the progress that has been made. Nina recently completed her portion of the assessment process, and we want to say a heartfelt thank-you to those who took time to fill out questionnaires and offer honest, prayerful feedback. Your willingness to walk with us in discernment has been a real encouragement during a season that can otherwise feel isolating.
Today’s sermon at the church we visited gave language to what we have been seeking all along: holy clarity. Not clarity driven by fear. Not clarity forced by urgency. But clarity that comes through prayer, surrender, and waiting before the Lord. That phrase has stayed with me all day.
My heart longs to be back with the Red Letter family. I miss you, the firepit, the kickball and smoked meats, but most of all I miss being your shepherd. Yet I am also deeply aware of the danger of rushing ahead of God—even toward good things. Scripture reminds us that calling is not proven by speed, but by faithfulness. We believe this season is purposeful. God is shaping us, not sidelining us.
Spurgeon’s words have stayed close to us lately:
No eloquence in the world is half so full of meaning as the patient silence of a child of God. "Truly my soul silently waits for God." It is an eminent work of grace to bring down the will and subdue the affections to such a degree that the whole mind lies before the Lord like the sea beneath the wind, ready to be moved by every breath of His mouth, but free from all inward and self-caused emotion, as also from all power to be moved by anything other than the divine will. We should be moldable to the Lord but adamant to every other force. "From Him comes salvation".
That posture—quiet, surrendered, attentive—is what we are asking God to form in us.
We’ve also been encouraged by the reminder in Church Planting Is for Wimps that gospel work is rarely rushed into. Clarity often comes not through confidence or control, but through prayerful waiting, wise counsel, and obedience over time. That perspective has helped steady our hearts and shape our prayers.
How You Can Pray With Us
For our family:
Pray that God would provide a home and the right job—not just provision, but placement
Pray for peace, patience, and trust as we wait on His timing
For Red Letter Church:
Pray that God would continue to guide and protect the vision He had placed in our hearts
Pray for a space to meet when the time is right
Pray that we would launch from clarity and health, not urgency or hurt
For partnership and support:
Pray with gratitude for NAMB and Petworth, who are fully supportive and walking with us through this process
Pray for wisdom as we discern next steps together
For our spiritual life as a family:
Pray as we continue working through the Gospel of Matthew and writing a devotional on it, it is purposely becoming more of a family devotional
And if you have favorite questions from Matthew that have shaped your faith or would like answered, we would love to hear them
On a personal note, this week I get to submit a proposal to have my dissertation reworked and published as an actual book. How cool would that be? We’re grateful and excited to see where the Lord might take that opportunity.
Also—Ella turns 18 on Wednesday. Somehow that happened overnight. We’re celebrating with full hearts and a little disbelief.
In the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing a few short reflections from Church Planting Is for Wimps—not as a review, but as a way to highlight areas we’re praying through, growing in, and asking God to refine in us as a family and as future planters/revitalizers. My hope is that these posts will give you specific ways to pray with us, not just for outcomes, but for character, wisdom, and faithfulness. Also, give you some action items.
Thank you for continuing to pray with us, walk patiently with us, and trust God alongside us. This season is not the end of the story—it is the shaping of the servants who will tell it.