He suddenly feared that she might be seeing his personal conflict as weakness. Maybe she found that unappealing.
Paul asked, “Will you be disappointed in me if I take a different career path?”
Sheila glared at Paul, giving him that look that both caused him to fear for his life and also made him want to grab her and kiss her passionately. “Listen, buster. I love you because of you, not because of your job. Get that straight, OK?” Paul got it.
Within the week Paul made the decision to step away from his Biblical Studies program and work instead toward a degree in history with the hope that he could teach in a high school somewhere. After he graduated he completed a teaching credential and landed a job, as he had hoped, at the high school in Eisington—also known as Music City. After his first year of teaching, he and Sheila were married. Their daughter Lindsay arrived two years later. Tyler showed up eighteen months after that. They had settled into a comfortable, respectable middle-class life. In some ways Paul felt that this kind of life liberated him from the concerns about church and faith that had dogged him in his earlier years.
By the time Paul hit his early thirties, a familiar restlessness began to visit him. While he enjoyed teaching, he had this strange sense that God was drawing him to a riskier place in life. It felt like a call to really trust God and follow what was percolating in his heart. This terrified Paul. He had a young family. He had a good job. This was insane.
After Paul and Sheila were married, they began attending a church that was much less conventional than the church Paul had grown up in during the 70’s. The people dressed casually, the music was on the rock ‘n roll side, and the sense of God’s presence and the call to be a part of God’s mission in the world was engaging. It was also part of a church movement that valued the planting of new churches—a concept to which Paul had never given much thought.
Something both wonderful and disturbing happened to Paul during this time. The wonder came as Paul began to recognize God’s deep and pervasive love for the world and as he considered the possibility that God was very much at work in human lives. During times of corporate worship with this casual crowd Paul often felt like God was really present as the people sang and raised their hands upward in expectant adoration. He believed that God was always present no matter what. These times of worship, however, made that belief tangible and real to him.
What was disturbing to Paul was the growing conviction that following after this ever-present, ever-working God was the most important thing in the world. His old fear of being absorbed into marginal life activities resurfaced. It wasn’t that he despised his work or his life with his family; it was that, for him, following Jesus was a call that was demanding more of him than his comfortable life seemed to permit. He realized that he would rather be uncomfortable in following Jesus than to remain comfortable at the margins of his faith.
When their children, Lindsay and Tyler, were born, Paul wondered if he would become more cautious in his sense of risky faith. Lindsay was almost two years older than Tyler. She was so bright and athletic—volleyball would become her sport of choice—that Paul never ceased to marvel at her. Tyler was the thoughtful and artistic member of the family. Paul loved Tyler’s budding creativity. Paul was concerned that his own zeal in following Jesus might somehow derail the beauty and wonder that he saw in his children.
Nevertheless, after a great deal of agonizing prayer, conversation, consultation, and argumentation, Paul and Sheila lurched toward the conclusion that God was leading them to invest themselves in the planting of a new church on the other side of town. Their own church leadership agreed with this and helped them get started. Paul began attending a local seminary on a part-time basis. There was great hope that Music City Community Church would have a huge impact on the people it wanted to reach.
Ten years later, Paul began revisiting his original assessment: This is insane.
3
It is grace, nothing but grace, that we are allowed to live in community with Christian brethren.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
By most Friday afternoons, Paul was ready for Sunday. His sermon had been prepared and practiced, the players were all in place, and the volunteers were ready. Saturdays were usually taken up with morning meetings with people who were not available during the week. Paul also made some attempt to join Sheila in getting the house in order. There were still lawns to mow, repairs to be made, and clutter to be eliminated. If Lindsay had a volleyball game—which seemed, during her senior year in high school, to be every weekend—then he would try to go. If Tyler needed to practice with his band or go somewhere with his friends from the youth group, then Paul usually volunteered to drive.
On Sunday mornings Paul rose at 5:30, made coffee, and talked through his sermon two or three times. When he arrived at church at 9:00, there was still an hour to go before the service began so he had time to make sure everything was in order.
Paul looked over the rows of chairs in the sanctuary. Their dark blue upholstered seats and backs satisfied the comfort needs of the members while the clips that held the chairs together in a line satisfied the demands of the fire department. He adjusted one of the rows, giving in to his private obsession that required the rows to be straight. Paul thought back to his old home church, constructed with old-fashioned pews that were forever fixed in the 90-year old building. As antiquated as that model of church seemed to him now, he still missed the sound of the creaking wood and the smell of the oil that was used to keep the depth of the wood grain alive. As a young person, those were the aromas and images of faith to him.
Even though Music City lacked any sense of antiquity, its converted warehouse chic had its own aura of tradition. Paul recalled the centrality of the pulpit and altar in the church of his youth, with the organ and piano placed tastefully to each side. That seemed to speak of the church’s value of the spoken word and the sacrament of communion, with the music of worship as the supports to the message of the pastor. In contrast, Music City’s stage was littered with musical instruments—three guitars, a drum set, a keyboard, and various percussion instruments—pointing to the central place that corporate worship held in the church. His pulpit, so different from the large, immobile, wooden edifice that his own pastor had used, was a simple music stand that often got lost in the clutter of the stage.
While the leased industrial space that made up the facilities of Music City lacked traditional trappings such as stained glass windows, there was no lack of artistic expression. The walls of the entry and main sanctuary were decorated with various commercial prints and even original works by members of the church. Paul glanced at one of his favorites: The Return of the Prodigal Son, by Rembrandt. The sense of acceptance and grace represented in that painting always gripped him. Below that print was a collection of drawings contributed by a group of fourth-graders, offering their own interpretations of that poignant story told by Jesus. Paul reached out to reattach the corner of one drawing that had separated from the wall. The texture of the construction paper felt as sacred to his touch as an ancient stained-glass window.
Paul loved how this simple warehouse facility—a building that could just as easily have been used by an office supply company or a widget manufacturer—had become a kind of sacred space in which people gathered on a regular basis to worship God and share in one another’s lives. It spoke to him of the way God transforms the mundane things of the world into the wonders of creation. Even though the building lacked the relics that suggested an ancient faith it still offered a sense of physical holiness that stirred him.
Paul’s sense of smell often triggered memories for him. Anytime he and Sheila would wander through an antique store the smell of the wood would remind him of his old church. His morning arrivals
