In the spring of 2015, I faced an intimidating ministry transition. My family was serving in a small church plant on the west side of Indianapolis, and we unexpectedly found ourselves in conversation with a church in Florida. We knew it would mean the biggest move of our lives—both geographically and relationally—but we couldn’t escape the sense that it was the move we were supposed to make. The whole thing felt handed to us, from beyond us. So we said some difficult farewells and began stuffing all we had into suitcases and boxes.
Just a handful of weeks before our moving date, I got a phone call from one of the elders in Florida. The months of May, June, and July had been rough for the church. Attendance was markedly down. Finances even more so. Worse still, there were rumblings of some folks not sure if they were staying or going due to geographical strain (two-thirds of the church drove in from around 30 minutes away); desire for ministries the small church couldn’t ...1