My kids love the term “church planter.” Daddy is like the farmer, and they are the seeds. So they yell at each other in the van, “You have a plant growing out of your head!” and laugh, laugh.
We had a great first meeting last Sunday. It was exciting to meet folks who said, “We have been praying for a PCA church in downtown Spartanburg.” And we have friends who are fans on facebook, so that makes it official, right? We might as well particularize right now! But it feels more like church childbirth then church plant right now. It is easy to become consumed in the particulars: child care, fellowship, are we doing enough outreach, what should we be doing right now? This is a litany that wakes us up and puts us to bed, and you begin to think, “Can we really do this?” We don’t fit the profile of dynamic, charismatic church planter and model wife. He is laid-back, easygoing, birkenstock-wearing pastor dude, and I am probably a little too fond of hip-hop and reality TV to qualify as “model wife.”
So I must say, there is a bit of a knot in my stomach as I think about tomorrow, new church Bible study part deux. Will everyone have fled to the land of wingtips and Michael W. Smith? (No offense, Mike.) Here is where the rubber hits the road, today and everyday afterward: do I believe that God is who He says He is, that His glory is where I find my delight and my raison d’etre? If so, then I can glorify Him whether 1 or 100 weary souls show up tomorrow.