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Until recently, "con man" was not one of my metaphors for God. But as I reflect upon a recent ministry experience, it seems totally appropriate. Let me explain.

Three years ago, my wife and I accepted a "call" to pack up our belongings, say goodbye to everyone we knew, and move 3,000 miles away to minister to young adults on the West Coast. A part of the job description that especially excited us was the prospect of beginning a new, captionernative worship service in a rather traditional church setting. I remember enthusiastically discussing this possibility with my supervisor-to-be and other members of the pastoral staff during my interview weekend. We were stoked!

But as the months wore on, our zeal for the new service began to wane as it collided with one of the unfortunate realities of church administration—the agonizingly slow rate of change. Strategic planning, meetings, budgeting, more meetings, proposals, reports, still more meetings… Truly, we observed, the gears of the ecclesiastical machinery turn slowly. The months became a year.

We consoled ourselves with the thought that "surely this year will be the year." And for a while, at least, it appeared we were right. After still more preliminary budgets, reports, and yes, meetings, it looked like the service would have the green light to begin during the fall. But inexplicably (to me, at least), we learned there would be another delay: the service would be postponed until the following year, we were told. My wife and I began to ask ourselves (and God) if it was time to leave.

We sensed God's leading to stay, so we did. Then, at the beginning of 2006, our senior pastor decided that we would definitely launch the captionernative service as a month-long "worship experiment" in the fall. Not as a full-fledged, permanent worship service, more of a "let's try it and see how it goes" approach. We were hoping for a bit more buy-in, but at least it was something.

Our core group met through the summer to dream, plan, and pray. Momentum was building. Finally, the big night arrived. Our worship leader welcomed about three hundred folks to the new service and we were underway! The whole month was pure adrenaline rush for me, a blur of phone calls, e-mails, sermons, and worship rehearsals, and, of course, meetings!

At the end of the experiment, the feedback from our church body was overwhelmingly positive. What's more, church leadership was supportive of the service continuing. I should have been thrilled, but oddly, I wasn't. captionhough a part of me was still glowing from the success, I had to admit that I was exhausted. It wasn't long after that realization that I submitted my resignation and we moved back to North Carolina.

I could give lots of reasons for my decision: the poor fit between my responsibilities as the leader of the new service and my actual gifts and passions, my evolving understanding of the word "pastor," my growing responsibilities as a husband and father of three small children. But what most intrigues me about my time in the Pacific Northwest is the way that God so masterfully set the whole thing up.

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