A few weeks ago, I sat at a table with our four church planting leaders, listening to them address our team as they prepared to be sent out from our church. A small lump formed in my throat. Was it a lump of sadness, or one of joy? Honestly, I’m not sure. Probably both. With maybe a little fear mixed in there, and seasoned with a little panic. Was I really excited about this? “Sending” preaches more easily than it is executed. Our church will look different next year when these guys leave. They will leave significant gaps. And of course, as soon as they go, we’ll replace them with four more full time planters, some of whom will come right out of our staff team. And it is painful to think about sometimes.
As I sat listening to these guys that morning, I had to force myself to open my hands to God. Opened in surrender. Taking my hands off of one of the most precious earthly things to me—my church. Open as on offering of praise and faith in Jesus’ promise. Open in the belief that God builds his kingdom as we let go, not as we hold on. I did it under the table so that no one could see. These open hands represent one of my greatest, and most difficult, acts of faith. But I believe. Lord, help my unbelief.
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