Now What?

It was November of 1999 and life could not have been more exciting. We had moved from our 55,000 square foot building tucked into a lovely neighborhood in northwest Oklahoma City to a new 200,000 square foot building sitting on 80 acres. We had around 1,500 people attending our church at the time, and I was completely focused on helping my growing "flock" move to a new home.

How would we leave the beautiful church on the corner in a wonderful neighborhood after forty years? How could I help our church family properly celebrate the past while anticipating the future?

The dedication service for the new campus took place on a Sunday afternoon in November. My family was coming from various parts of the country. Michael W. Smith agreed to spend the day with us. It was unforgettable.

By the time I had taken Michael back to the airport and headed home, my emotions were all over the map. I was both exhilarated and exhausted. When I woke up the next morning, I immediately knew something wasn't quite right.

The previous day’s adrenaline-infused body and brain had decided to take a break without warning me in advance. Some might say I had "hit a wall.” It was hard to reconcile the incredible day I had experienced only 24 hours earlier with the fog surrounding me that morning. Thus began a fairly frightening period of unplanned drift.

I could not figure out what to do next. I was stuck in the excitement of the previous few weeks, and I was exhausted. I HATE to admit that. I cannot stand whining, and I am not a fan of pastors who whine about having the toughest job in the world. It's not an easy job, but even after forty years, I would not call it the toughest job in the world. Perhaps I will talk about that in another blog.

I wasn't sure what to do next. And I've learned that sometimes that is perfectly okay! Even today, my post-COVID world finds me and my team at a moment where we have intentionally decided to not evaluate or make any plans until mid-October. This is not drift. It is a planned “holding pattern,” a term pilots use when they have to circle the airport while waiting for a storm to pass and landing conditions to improve.

My team has intentionally entered a planned holding pattern. We want to get through the first six to eight weeks of the new school year. We want to see what the "new normal" looks like. We want to prayerfully discern God's path for our future.

I'm convinced the local church needs to stick to the basics, but the delivery systems will dramatically change. They already have.

We drift when there is no plan or sense of direction. The season of drift can be dangerous if not harnessed by prayer, reflection, meditation, and intentional waiting. And, if we are not paying attention, drift can be very dangerous—even deadly.

In this time of exhaustion and excitement, I had forgotten to ask the question, "What's next?" It was not an intentional oversight. I had drifted into a pattern of only giving thought to what was in front of me. I became so focused on the present moment I failed to clearly think about both the opportunities and the challenges that lay ahead. I also forgot that drifting can be dangerous because it clouds our perspective and our discernment.

In April 2020, a tragedy unfolded in the choppy waters of the Chesapeake Bay when a forty-year-old mother and her eight-year-old son drowned while trying to retrieve a ball. They had been playing kickball and one kick sent the ball into the water. They jumped into their canoe intending to simply row out a few feet and retrieve the ball. But the winds were higher and the unseen tide was stronger than it appeared, and they were pulled into the ocean.

Their bodies were found two and a half miles down shore in twenty-five feet of water. They were no strangers to the ocean or the inlet where the kickball game started. While conditions were certainly not ideal, they were far more dangerous than they looked.

They got in that canoe, as they had many times before, with no intention of putting themselves in danger, no intention of risking their lives. Why check water conditions just to retrieve a kickball they could see? What could possibly go wrong?

One of the most important things I learned in my season of drift was to patiently trust God's plan for me and my church. I've learned that in those moments of confusion, drift, and despair, God is already at work. He knows my thoughts and fears, he knows the future, and he promises to give us all we need to move forward in his timing.

I find great encouragement in the words of King David in Psalms 40:1-3:

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.