(An addendum to one of the stories in last week’s post:)
“John just called,” Steve informed me. “He and his wife Peg will be in town on business this weekend, and want to visit the church on Sunday. What would you think of inviting them for dinner afterwards?”
‘Let me check with Mom—‘see if she can help,” I responded. “It would be nice to get acquainted with them ahead of our move.”
John served as chairman of the staff-parish relations committee for the new church Steve had been appointed to. In seven weeks we’d be moving from west coast to east coast in Florida, as determined a couple of months previously by those in charge.
The visit in late April was arranged and dinner planned. My dear mother helped with preparations, since we were already stretched quite thin with Steve’s church responsibilities, mine as an elementary teacher, our three kids, and packing already underway.
As some of you know, we lived in parsonages during Steve’s ministry. Until 2010 or so, these clergy-homes were also supposed to be furnished.
At the time of this move we lived in a lovely middle-class home that fit the current guidelines for parsonages.
This house (over 2000 square feet), included four bedrooms, and even a study. It leant itself well to holding meetings in the living room while the children could be in a separate family room.
Three years previously the church had purchased the house and some new furniture. This is the home that John and Peg saw, as we enjoyed getting acquainted with them.
John would tell us later he was struck by the contrast between our current home and the one we’d be moving into—with approximately 1200 square feet of living space and long-outdated furniture.
Storage would be another problem, given the insufficient kitchen cabinets, small closets, the detached garage (where bugs and critters could create havoc), no attic, and of course no basement in Florida.
John knew the time had come to provide their pastor a home similar to what other professionals with three-year advanced degrees own, that met the scripture-directive of “double honor for those preaching and teaching” (1 Timothy 5:17).
But John had to wait for the committee to meet and funding to be appropriated.
Soon after John’s and Peg’s visit, Steve and I traveled across-state to tour their church and parsonage. That’s when we realized some of the challenges to come—in the deficient housing provided and in the church situation.
On the way home, we heard Jeremiah 29:11 quoted on the radio:
Days later, a devotional suggested repeating “all the promises from God’s Word you can remember.” I determined to write in my journal as many as I could find that fit our circumstances. including:
I knew God would enable the five of us to thrive in the small house, or he’d provide another home. But I struggled with “what-ifs.”
Meanwhile, John rallied the staff-parish committee; they voted “yes” for a new parsonage. A week later, the administrative board passed a resolution to purchase a four-bedroom house and allocate funds for some new furniture.
Still to come: a church-wide vote, with the district superintendent presiding.
Of course, a few hiccups occurred. After one disappointment, I wrote: “We still have our promises from our never-failing God. . . I put my trust in You, Lord, by an act of my will, not by what I see happening!
“You know our needs, you know what’s best for this church. Guide us into Your plan in Your timing, and give us wisdom and grace to accept whatever You have for us. We do want what you want!”
And I copied more scripture-promises.
In mid-June, the move into the small house went smoothly.
A week later the church-wide conference voted by a wide margin to relocate their parsonage.
Mid-July our daughter and I flew to Austin, Texas to meet my newborn nephew. Steve called one evening to say a suitable house had been found, similar to our previous home but a bit smaller at 1800 square feet. The kids would love the pool.
I trusted Steve’s appraisal, and agreed the church should make an offer.
As our children started school, we were settling into our new home—just two blocks down the street.
Image credits: http://www.dailyverses.net; http://www.canva.com (3).
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