The Siege

The Siege

Our relocation from Southern California to North Texas was a wild, faith-filled, whirlwind it seemed. We had three kids, the oldest was sixteen, and the youngest was seven. Nancy and I had resigned from our jobs with only a few leads on new employment for me in Texas. Our church had helped us pack up a three-bedroom rental home into a moving truck. We prayed, and hugged, and kissed until many of us were crying, though we were as excited as we’ve ever been to be “going with God” as they say. Me and Quinn, 12 at the time, climbed into the moving truck. Nancy and Hillary, our oldest, along with Aaron, 7, jumped into our Chevy van. We waived and cried and headed toward the San Diego Freeway.

It was August of 1993, which meant a very hot drive across Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. The Chevy lost its air conditioner just outside of Kingman, Arizona. Nancy has a low tolerance to heat, so Hillary took a bathing suit top of Nancy’s, dipped it in the ice chest, and placed it dripping wet on Nancy’s head to cool her off. Nancy pulled next to the moving truck so Quinn and I could spot her with a fluorescent orange bikini top on her head. It took a while, but we figured out what had happened. We stayed in Kingman for a day or two, which was more fun than you might think, while the Chevy’s AC was repaired, then off we went.

We knew which church we were going to attend, and we’d already visited McKinney and put a house in escrow, which was due to close a week after our arrival. One of my employment opportunities worked out, so I would have a job to go to, and we eventually closed on our new home. The next ten or twelve months were spent exploring our new hometown and Texas, getting the kids settled in schools and participating in sports and other activities, meeting hundreds of people at our new home church, and learning how to take care of an old home on acreage. Gradually we settled into the many routines that make up family life. We found meaningful roles at our new church, though we didn’t serve as pastors, and I didn’t lead worship, but we led home groups and a ministry team at church.

Our intention was to remain in Texas for a year or three while deciding where in Australia we felt the Lord would have us plant a new church. Yeah, I know, but that’s a story for another time. So, I traveled to Australia with our pastor as often as I could during those years, and we enjoyed learning about life in Texas in the meantime. It was all a great adventure. That is, until John Wimber, the leader of our denomination, let it be known that Australia apparently had more than enough American Vineyard pastors – please make other plans. Yeah, I know, but that’s also a story for another time.

It took us a week or so to verify that we understood our situation correctly. Then we began to consider our options. We could return to Southern, CA. Neither of us wanted to do that. We could go to Australia despite of our denominations’ preferences. Neither of us wanted to do that. Or we could stay in North Texas and see what would come next, which we did. And not begrudgingly either. We genuinely preferred our lifestyle in Texas over our lifestyle in So Cal. We were, however, a little stunned for about a year.

I laugh now to admit it. But that’s how it was. No one had told us before we left, but we managed to learn along the way that this kind of story is not uncommon to men and women and their families who are determined to live life in obedience to Jesus. For us it was an organizational decision that upset our “plan.” For some it’s financial, or health, or family, or plague, or war… If you truly want to follow the Lord, be prepared to alter your plans slightly, or dramatically. Staying focused on Him is most important. Everything else will work itself out, or it won’t, but you’ll always have Him to start with again, if necessary.

Another year passed, and we found ourselves forced to recalibrate our vision from missionary/church planters to settlers in North Texas. A tough adjustment. Had we misunderstood the Lord about Australia? Did we miss our true calling? Were we called at all? Meanwhile, life chugged along. The kids grew and blossomed, we stayed busy at church, and work – though not the highest paying job I’d ever had – kept me busy meeting people and seeing the southwest. Nancy had taken a job working down the road in Plano to help float the boat. Still, in the back of our minds the question remained, “Did we not hear the Lord correctly?”

Then stuff started breaking. Our pool equipment, our HVAC, our trustworthy Chevy Van, our septic tank, the foundation under our home cracked in two. Our toaster broke! If it could break, it broke. Unable to afford the cost of repairing everything at once, we had to choose one and let the others wait, as more of our stuff continued to break. At first we cried, then I got grumpy about it and began to complain – to God.

Who else could I complain to? He was the One we believed we were serving. He was the One we believed had asked us to church plant in Australia. He was the One we believed was protecting us and our family and our stuff. So, he was the One I complained to. It was not my intention to be disrespectful in my complaining, though I probably was at times. A little accusatory too, I’m sorry to say. Isn’t Jesus wonderful to overlook my lapses of faith, love, and honor? I complained to Him for quite some time: days, weeks. Then I stopped. I just ran out of things to say about it.

Then there was silence.

God wasn’t speaking to me about it. Was He angry with me? Was He disappointed? Nothing. Silence.

Nancy and I continued repairing or replacing, as our finances permitted. And we continued to love our family and the people around us. We continued to study and teach the Word. And we continued to worship the only One who is worthy, as we always had. Gradually, the season, “the Siege,” as we called it fell behind us, and the list of items to repair or replace shrunk considerably. I’d almost forgotten my temper tantrum before the Lord… when I sensed a presence in our kitchen.

“You don’t realize what you’ve asked,” The Voice said.

As soon as I heard those words, I “knew” what I had asked. Though I had asked God why we were having so much trouble in our daily lives, what God heard was, “What is the meaning of life?”

Then the Voice said, “I am preparing you to dwell with me forever.”

“Oh my,” I said out loud. Then this Scripture came to my mind:

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28 NKJV

Suddenly the disruptions to our plans, all the broken machinery, every problem we’d ever had became a welcome friend. Just something else that God could use to prepare us to dwell with Him forever.

I told Nancy, “We’re gonna get all new stuff.”

“Why?” She asked

“Because all our stuff is broken!” We both laughed.

My attitude had brightened and so had Nancy’s. We were downright cheerful. But I kept hearing the Voice say these words, “I am preparing you…”

He didn’t say prepare yourself. He said, “I am preparing you.” I took great comfort in His words because He cannot fail. He doesn’t know how to fail. It’s not in His being to fail. Instead, He will use anything and everything at his disposal to see to it that we are prepared to dwell with Him forever. The realization hit me hard: “I can trust the process!” because it doesn’t depend on me. It depends on Him who is faithful and true.

I write this brief account of our “Seige” for you because, as Peter said, “God shows not partiality.” (Acts 10:34) What He will do for one He will do for another. He is preparing all of us who are willing, and He will use everything about our lives on this planet to bring about his intentions for us. You can count on it. You can trust Him, and you can trust the process.

To this day I weep when I recall the kindness of the Living God to forbear my childish complaining and respond by giving me the best promise I’ve ever heard from his mouth. I hope His promise does the same for you that it did for me.

Don’t you just love Him?

Peace on the Path