“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’”
- Jack Kerouac
They were the cool kids. But somehow, we tricked them into being our friends.
At least that’s how it felt at first.
Mark and I bought our house in May 2003 and that fall, we got serious about church shopping. After choosing our church based on the latest Sunday morning start time (just kidding – but seriously, how great is an 11:15 service for two non-morning people without kids?), we were quickly invited to a Sunday school class.
I remember walking into the class the first time, the couple we sat with that day and some of my early impressions of the class and the people in it. But I don’t remember meeting Zac and Mandy. I remember noticing them - they were in leadership. (You know, in charge.) But I can't recall when - or how - exactly we became friends.
The day I do remember is the one that began to seal our hearts together: the day we decided to plant a church together.
From that day forward, we transitioned seamlessly from friends to family. Well, seamlessly except for a snoring incident during our fishing trip to Canada.
Mark and I were one of six couples – three in our twenties, three in their forties and fifties – that planted a church in a nearby community. That group of people was as tight as could be for a period of time, planning and praying, meeting and ministering. That period of time did not last forever, though. And while I still have bruises and scars from that time, I’m so very thankful that through it all, we only grew closer to Zac and Mandy.
We have spent hours in prayer and worship and Bible study and ministry. And we’ve cried together and shouldered each other’s burdens, growing all the while through the pain. But we’ve also laughed our heads off and come up with pages of inside jokes and favorite quotes. We’ve gone from “young marrieds” to not-as-young parents. We’ve gone through job changes, career changes, health problems, family issues and so much more. We know each other’s personalities and tendencies, we know the many ways we are so alike and we just laugh at the few ways we are different.
When we were in the midst of the church plant’s failure, Zac and Mandy were described – not favorably – by another church member as “passionate people.”
And they are. Oh, they are. But in a way that is only glorifying to God and inspiring to those around them. They live life with gusto, whether we’re discussing the ideal thermostat temperature, the winning characteristics of Dorothy Lynch salad dressing or God’s plan for our lives. I love that about them.
Zac and Mandy moved to another state this fall, and I miss them so much. But we got to spend Sunday evening with our friends, and I'm thankful for that time. I'm thankful for their friendship. And yes, for their passion. I love these passionate people.
What are you passionate about?
At least that’s how it felt at first.
Mark and I bought our house in May 2003 and that fall, we got serious about church shopping. After choosing our church based on the latest Sunday morning start time (just kidding – but seriously, how great is an 11:15 service for two non-morning people without kids?), we were quickly invited to a Sunday school class.
I remember walking into the class the first time, the couple we sat with that day and some of my early impressions of the class and the people in it. But I don’t remember meeting Zac and Mandy. I remember noticing them - they were in leadership. (You know, in charge.) But I can't recall when - or how - exactly we became friends.
The day I do remember is the one that began to seal our hearts together: the day we decided to plant a church together.
From that day forward, we transitioned seamlessly from friends to family. Well, seamlessly except for a snoring incident during our fishing trip to Canada.
Mark and I were one of six couples – three in our twenties, three in their forties and fifties – that planted a church in a nearby community. That group of people was as tight as could be for a period of time, planning and praying, meeting and ministering. That period of time did not last forever, though. And while I still have bruises and scars from that time, I’m so very thankful that through it all, we only grew closer to Zac and Mandy.
We have spent hours in prayer and worship and Bible study and ministry. And we’ve cried together and shouldered each other’s burdens, growing all the while through the pain. But we’ve also laughed our heads off and come up with pages of inside jokes and favorite quotes. We’ve gone from “young marrieds” to not-as-young parents. We’ve gone through job changes, career changes, health problems, family issues and so much more. We know each other’s personalities and tendencies, we know the many ways we are so alike and we just laugh at the few ways we are different.
When we were in the midst of the church plant’s failure, Zac and Mandy were described – not favorably – by another church member as “passionate people.”
And they are. Oh, they are. But in a way that is only glorifying to God and inspiring to those around them. They live life with gusto, whether we’re discussing the ideal thermostat temperature, the winning characteristics of Dorothy Lynch salad dressing or God’s plan for our lives. I love that about them.
Zac and Mandy moved to another state this fall, and I miss them so much. But we got to spend Sunday evening with our friends, and I'm thankful for that time. I'm thankful for their friendship. And yes, for their passion. I love these passionate people.
What are you passionate about?
