Well. It's only been a yearish since the last post. I'm ready to crack this open. I think.
The last post was written with toes over the edge of our first prelaunch service which happened one block from Church Street, down the stairs to the FlynnSpace theater. For as much as I have seen in the two years we've been here, these two places are the cultural definitions of Burlington.
I cannot describe the night. I cannot believe I didn't turn inside out. It was surreal. I felt like a rock star, a little kid, myself and someone else all at the same time. I felt like God's hand was so heavy on my head and shoulders and heart that it was almost crushing, yet I know it was the only thing that made one foot continue to step in front of the other.
My girls were there. Cute as anything. Excited. Running around. Dancing on the stage. They ate in the green room. Twirled in the full length mirrors that super stars (small s) have twirled in. They played with their friends and my gift from God, Ms. Sue. They were there. It's part of their story. They are part of the story of Stand. That's priceless to me.
I still can't find the words to articulate what it felt like (feels like) to have people invest in the vision and passion of this ministry. Our friends here were literally hand-picked by God. He shared the plan with them before we did. He pierced their hearts and set their feet on the same narrow path he mapped for us. And there they were, doing things I hadn't thought of, doing them better than I ever could. They made the service happen so I could actually BE there.
I watched my husband load in, rehearse, lead worship and open the door God built. Jesus' love and power would be available to anyone who came that night and every time we meet. We actually lived the inception of our dream.
There were 32 people there. People who don't know Jesus well enough to be in love with him yet. It was amazing.
It was overwhelming.
We had a month before we had to do it again. That was not much time.
Vermont is perceived as this magical, fall-colored syrupy-sweet place. Underneath it's steeped in a dark spiritual heritage. It's well-versed in keeping things quiet and solitary. It's the perfect place for God to set up camp. That called for a fight. It took about two seconds for me to feel like I was managing an impossible balancing act in my mind and soul. I couldn't believe how much time had passed in an instant. Summer ended. We were ready for our official launch.
God did the miraculous and we were welcomed onto the UVM campus to have weekly meetings in the Billings Library. We promoted as Loud. Caffeinated. Church. We set up an impressive smorgasbord of free candy, sodas, Monsters and Red Bull. We'd go into the rooms where students were studying and invite them to come get sustenance - nothing makes a study session as effective as a Monster and Sour Patch Kids. They came. We got to tell them why we were there - no strings. We got to BE the church every week.
At Christmas we had Keurig hot chocolate and cookies - a lot of cookies. Students came and one guy was insulted that I didn't remember him. He'd been "coming to our church" all semester. We'd talked. I'd listened. I knew about his upcoming test. I blamed it on his beanie and scarf. I swear I had no idea we were part of the same church family. Here's what I learned: there is no preconceived need for church here. There is little to no understanding of church to so many. They have no idea what it means to me when I say I'm a pastor, a Christian. This was his church - all he'd ever known or experienced. Some sugar and caffeine were a means to be heard and considered and remembered (I recovered well - darn beanie). That's now what he knows church to be. He never sat through a service. But he felt connected because every week we got to BE church and just love on those students. I pray for more for him. I'm ok with the way the seed was planted and watered with Monsters.
I text almost every week with students who don't sit in on the service. But they are learning what church is, who God is. All they know is that I'm available. I remember their tests. I laugh and cry and continue to do so no matter what they tell me. They say, "I'm so glad you're my pastors." ??? I get it now. It's weird. Well, it was. It's Vermont. Which is now us - the magical syrupy parts. It's how we're having church. By being church. It can't be about the building or the numbers when you don't have either. That will change. We will grow but not until it'll never be about the building or the numbers.
That's the long story short. Some weeks we think we've arrived. Many others we are disappointed that the seats aren't filled. I finally feel like I can write a few things and start to let the goings on of the past year start to filter out. The impossible balancing act I've been managing is equalizing just a skosh.
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