Three years ago everybody in our church started on a specific journey together. We called it, simply, "go." Go ... before the Lord. Go ... beyond ourselves. Go ... to the ends (of the earth). The reason? Well, hopefully, and I think it's spot on: Yahweh leads. There are a lot of parts to this journey, and a lot of little separate paths that we've all taken to this point—learning in our own unique ways and being affected and challenged and delighted in specific and personal ways.
We've all learned a lot more about the word go, about the verb of it, what it can mean and what sort of adventure it holds. One aspect of the many pieces of this journey has been a physical move ... from the old schoolhouse at 83rd and Lamar to a refurbished furniture store at 119th and I-35. The old schoolhouse is a magical place; without a doubt the birthing unit of friendships, lifelong commitments, memories that will bring a lump to your throat, and side-splitting hilarity. There is truly a memory hiding in every crevice and corner of that blue and gray place, with its creaky doors and leaky skylights. After our last Sunday night there this past weekend, I stood in the hallway talking to Nanette just before midnight. The janitor shouted down the hall to us, "Hey if I cut the lights are you guys ok?" I smiled as I shouted back, "Sure thing, man! I know this place like the back of my hand."
And you know what's cool? Another church in town, the Vineyard, they're moving in. And it's my hope that the folks who will be enjoying those halls will have just as much fun there (and encounter as many miracles) as we did. And the building that the Vineyard is moving out of? There's another little church in town that's gotten too big for its seams, and they're moving in where the Vineyard is moving out. And
their building? Yep, there's a tiny little church plant who needed a place to meet. The whole idea of it makes my eyes sting with happy tears.
And us? Heartland Community Church + the Gathering Network? Well, we're moving into our new home on November 1. As it turns out, Jesus is really dang cool, and people keep coming to hear about him. And when they find out how cool he is, they bring their friends to hear about it. At the schoolhouse, there wasn't enough room for them all. Or their cars. So we looked and looked for a place with more breathing room, a place where all the people coming to hear about Jesus could easily find a place to park, and then a place to sit and listen, and even have an open seat so they won't feel weird bringing their friends to hear about Jesus too.
We found that place, and it was an out-of-business furniture store. And it sure didn't look like much but a big, empty box, but the visionaries in our midst saw something—promise. And sure enough, God (just like he did in Genesis) took something that was formless and void and breathed life into it. Not just walls and paint and lights and all, but
life. If you want to read about the night I felt that life,
go do it here.
So, it's not only my church that's moving ... but my job. Cause I work there. I'm a Gathering Network employee. And as much as I catch my breath when I drive past 83rd and Lamar and the sign and the familiar cars are gone, I am SO excited to turn the page to this next chapter. I'm not a visionary, but I'm now seeing, in the today, what the visionaries saw then: promise. Three years ago we started "go"ing with blindfolds on, and this day seemed so far away. In fact, it seemed so far away that it didn't seem real. But it's almost here, and it's freaking cool.
One last thing.
The furniture store? It closed down about six years ago. The building had been vacant for quite some time when we acquired it. Turns out that one of the guys who goes to our church now was the guy that owned that store then. He and his wife were the last people to close those doors, the last ones to click that lock. Talk about empty. Talk about sad. He said those were the darkest days of his life. Now, he describes these days (though not easy) as the brightest of his life. He loves looking at that piece of property and being filled with hope, seeing as how years ago it left him hopeless. And on November 1, the day we open, guess who gets to be the first person to click that lock and open the doors? Yeah. That dude and his wife.
Welcome home, Heartland Community Church. Welcome home, Gathering Network. For the very first time.
i like—
