So... WE'RE MOVING TO MONTANA?

The CliffNotes version is this: We've been asked to be one of five staff couples involved in a start-up men's ministry in Montana called Mentoring Timothy. The hopeful, tentative goal is to move in about a year.

It will be a 10-month program in the mountains, with the primary purpose of giving young men a season of life after high school and before college in which they can unplug from the distractions of today, learn skills and live life in a challenging environment, be mentored by older men while observing marriage and family life, experience short-term international missions trips, and most of all, have the time to cease looking at the Bible as a textbook and learn to really develop a close and personal relationship with Jesus. It's life-on-life discipleship, plain and simple.

How and when and why did all of this transpire?  Read on!  :)

The last post I published on this blog was on November 9th.  I was milling over the fact that we hadn't really had a home since being married, and sharing thoughts as we were preparing to move from the RV to the basement of the yurt while finishing construction.  Mostly, I was thinking about how temporary even a "home" really is in light of eternity, and wrapped up with this:

Yes, I am cherishing this unsettled feeling and the reminder that it brings.  I am cherishing the sehnsucht... cherishing the longing. 

And when we have our own "home," it still will not be home.  Our brand new abode, in all spiritual reality, will not be home any more than the moldy house or the RV could be considered "home" right now. 

Always, always, always, I want to remember that.

There's no doubt in my mind that God had those thoughts swirling in my head during the entire building process for a good and specific reason.  How could we have possibly known how timely they would be?

The week we moved from the RV into the basement, we had begun praying seriously that the Lord would show us the next step for our lives. And it was that same week that we got a call from Dave Schroeder.

Dave was the Dean of Men when Joey and I attended NTBI,  and at our request, he and his wife Missy had been our premarital counselors in the months leading up to our wedding.  Shortly after we graduated, the Schroeders had left New Tribes in order to establish a new ministry God had planted firmly in their hearts; we've been aware of it for a few years. Now, Dave was calling to have us answer some preliminary questions and consider entering full-time ministry as staff with them.

Forms, references, a few hours of FaceTime, and many calls later, our little family packed into the car and drove out to Nebraska this past January for an interview with the board of Mentoring Timothy.  We were unanimously accepted.

Checking out Mt. Rushmore on the way back from Nebraska.

So many things happened all at once.  Very shortly after our return from Nebraska, we finished the house enough to be able to move up out of the basement.  After two years of waiting and RV living, it was surreal, hard to believe, and a bit of a fairytale.  It felt like too much luxury in so many ways (though you all know that our secondhand-materials-abode is far from opulent... haha).

We publicized our move into the house, and so many dear people rejoiced with us; all the while, we and family were the only ones who knew our future plans, and our hearts were already bracing to break away from this place.  We moved up with the bittersweet knowledge that we'll soon be moving on.

...I'd thought on many occasions, as I cooked on the campstove in the RV while wrangling a one-year-old and a newborn, that in so many ways it would be a loss to move into a house and get comfortable.  I asked Jesus, over and over again, not to let us lose that feeling of being unsettled, because it was such a great reminder that we're not to settle into this life... this world that's not our home.  Well, He answered those prayers with a YES.

Both of our immediate families are here in Wisconsin, and it's sad to think about taking our grandbabies away from their new grandparents.  Not to mention our church family, and my midwife... I know everyone does it.  It's common, and in a lot of ways, it's not a big deal.  But that doesn't make it easy.

From a young age, Joey and I have both known what it is to move over and over again.  I know what it's like to fix up a place that was dead, make it your own, scratch out a living there, and then leave.  But somehow, there's something different and more difficult about this.  We staked out an area that was just a patch of grass, dug a hole in the ground, and built a round house atop it for our family.  It does hurt to leave the home we've poured literal blood, sweat, tears, and so much more into for the last two years. Joey's fingerprints are on everything... We'd envisioned being able to rent it out and come back to it while visiting home, even if we ended up overseas as missionaries.  

A day or two after moving up, we just sat together by the fireplace one night as it all sank in, and cried.

It is strange to have these conflicting emotions-- to be weepy at the same time that we're genuinely over-the-moon thrilled for something that's so wonderful it seems like a dream come true.

I don't share all of this to seem pitiful or to convey that we're somehow suffering through this decision.  The purpose of sharing the inner sadness is only to to let you into our hearts a bit and to emphasize THIS: that as hard as it is to leave the house we haven't even finished yet, that feeling pales in comparison to the passion we have for this ministry, the excitement we have for the next step, and the utter sureness we have that this is where God is leading us.  It's only a house.  It's going to burn in the end.  All we're doing is giving up something that we can't keep anyway, that was never ours to hold onto.

There has been such a void in our society and churches of the strong, intentional mentoring of men.  Marriages are falling apart, pornography addiction is commonplace, and families are shattering.  Paul says in Thessalonians 3, speaking of believers, "...When I could bear it no longer, I sent to learn about your faith, for fear that somehow the tempter had tempted you and our labor would be in vain." As much as we have a heart to see the Gospel go where it has never been taken before, we also recognize the need for believers to be rooted, grounded, established, and thriving in Jesus, living out what they believe: discipled.  

Discipleship is something we have both been involved in and felt called to for years now, even when we were considering missions.  Thinking about our personal strengths and passions, it's mind-boggling how God has brought us to this place that in so many ways seems like our dream.  It is certainly something we never could have even imagined.  We pray that God will use this raw environment and the day-to-day of simple life for His glory, to raise up men of courage who love Him, love their churches, love their wives,  love their children, and are not afraid to lead boldly and love sacrificially.

"God said to Abram: Leave your country, your family, and your relatives and go to the land that I will show you."  

We'd both happened to read through or be reminded of Genesis 12 right around the time that all of this was first happening.  How amazing that we serve a God who brings encouragement at just the right time through words that were written centuries ago!

There is no way to know what the future holds.  For that matter, there's no way to know much about even the near future of this ministry and our involvement.  The goal is to move in about a year, and for so many reasons, it would be best to get out there as soon as possible; but we have no way of knowing how long it will take to raise support. We're trusting God to make that happen.  No idea when we'll be able to sell or rent our house.  The unknowns are countless.  Our confidence is not in anything except the firm belief that God is clearly leading us here right now, and we want to be faithful and obedient to His leading.  I don't have time to share all the unbelievable ways God is opening doors to make this ministry happen, beyond reason, and the things that have confirmed it for us personally along the way.  We have no idea what's in store, but we trust Him fully and are utterly thrilled to be on this adventure with Him!!

Designing and building our own home, only to leave it behind so quickly and start from the ground up all over again?  No, it doesn't make sense from a logical perspective.  But God's timing is perfect.  I believe that with all of my heart-- more than I believe that it will be hard to leave, more than I believe that the future is uncertain, and more than I believe that there are physically and spiritually difficult days ahead. His timing is perfect and He is a GOOD Father.  These are things I know beyond knowledge.  We are leaving our achey hearts in His ever-capable hands, knowing that we can trust Him implicitly.

We need so much prayer and would be immensely thankful if you'd partner with us in that way! Pray that we keep our eyes on Him daily, looking to Him for each step rather than taking grasp of this and just trying to run with it ourselves. The whole process will undoubtedly be incredibly humbling as well, so pray also that we respond well to God's sanctifying process in our lives.

We realize that a blog post doesn't answer all the questions, so please feel free to ask! You can call us, text us, email us, Facebook message us, or come on over and hang out. :)

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Thank you for sharing in this journey with us, heart and soul! We deeply love you all.

View from the Lord-willing location of Mentoring Timothy.

An RV, a yurt, a moldy house, a tree house... and our eternal home.

(May 2015 excerpts from my journal, with some additional thoughts.)

My husband and I have been married for two years.  In those two years of marriage, we and our little family have moved six times.  (Depending on your definition of a "move...")

This "always in limbo, never settled" living situation has so many Heavenly parallels for the believer.  It feels familiar to me, because it is... As Christians we are, as the Bible has put it, sojourners; strangers in a strange land;  aliens.  Joey and I have not really had a place to call our own, yet.

And that's good.  I so love this very tangible, present reminder that these are the true circumstances of every believer:  Not home yet.  Not settled yet.  Not fully at peace or at home.  Only on the journey.

Our little family doesn't have "a place" for our belongings, really.  They're strewn, hither and yon, between different locations.  One place is the small house originally on our property... the one we intended to fix up before discovering that its foundation was completely shot, among other  issues that would have made it a financial black hole to invest in.  It was foreclosed due to severe mold issues (so we call it our "moldy house" to differentiate it from our tree house, our RV, "our" Neenah winter residence, and our future abode).

People involved in a realty scam broke into it twice after we bought the property but before we moved onto it.

All of that strikes a chord, as I am reminded of Matthew 6:19:
"Do not collect for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and thieves break in and steal."

Sometimes we chuckle to ourselves, amused that the majority of our belongings actually consist of the building materials collected for our eventual home.  And I'm reminded of another parallel.
"Collect for yourselves treasures in Heaven..."

What treasures do we have?  We have lots of convenient things.  A few sentimental things.  But if we lost everything in one big fire, I can't say I would be particularly sad to see most of it go.  I am glad for that.  That's not to say I don't truly appreciate our material belongings, but I like to think my heart isn't tied to them.  I think it's healthy to feel that way.  God's gracious hand has seen to it that the things I treasure most, in which I have thus far invested the greatest percentage of my life, are all things I get to "take with me" when I die.

Not having grown up with "treasures," at least not the way this world defines them (materialistically), I didn't develop a taste for them.  It can make me feel awkward and out of sync with humanity at times.  Sometimes I feel as if I have nothing to contribute to certain conversations.  (I've actually caught myself chiming in to complain about things I really don't mind at all, just for the sake of solidarity or fitting in, probably. I know: it's easy to recognize as completely stupid when I say it out loud.)  But, really, when I think about it, I should be alright with not caring about "things" or not always being able to engage in lively conversation about them very well.
"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

I want my Savior Himself to always, always be my treasure and my heart.  Not just mostly.  Not just a little more than the other things in my life, like my husband and my children.  I want Him to be very clearly the greatest and highest of anything I value.

A pastor once told me directly that it is foolish to talk about aching for Heaven or about just wanting to be with Jesus.  His reasoning?  Because Jesus gave us this world to enjoy, after all.

I can see the train of thought there.  But I also read my Bible.  And up against the perspective it offers, I see how teeny tiny, short, and insignificant all of human history will be in comparison to forever.  How much tinier, then, is my one life on the grand scale of eternity?!

Tell me something:  Why should I spend all of my time, energy, emotions, and resources garnering the applause of this world-- making myself successful or liked in the eyes of people, whose days are numbered, rather than making myself successful and faithful in the eyes of Jesus?  He's the One I will stand before one day, yearning to hear the words, "Well done......"

You might be proud of yourself for your credentials, your career, your life experiences, your "been theres..."  And I fully understand that temptation myself.  Right there with you.  Maybe you're a "do-gooder."  Maybe your life is wrapped up in public "ministry."  Maybe you consider yourself an intellectual.  Maybe you know everything there is to know about anything.  Maybe you're frankly just the most epic person in your circle of friends.  :P  Let's say you're a brain surgeon, a celebrity, a professional athlete, a United States ambassador, a military academy graduate, or an FBI agent.  [*insert your most-admired profession here*]

Cool.  But this earth and the entire system that gave you those experiences is going to burn.

What really matters?

You and I would be fools and borderline mental to treat this life like it's the one that matters most.  The only actions that matter in this life are the ones which have ramifications in eternity.

(And, no: In eternity, it's not going to matter that your husband made you late for church or that the kids spilled milk on the couch.  But how your heart responded in those circumstances will matter.)

It can be tempting to look back on one's life and think of how much more successful you could have been, or how much more "fulfilling" your life would be, had you made different decisions.  Certainly I was no exception.  Years back, when most of my friends were either in the military or well on their way to a four-year degree, I frequently thought of the opportunity I had to attend the Air Force Academy. I second-guessed the decisions I made regarding many other prestigious doors that had swung wide open to me.  Then Jesus altered my perspective.

And that's what makes all the difference in life.  He always does that when He touches a person's heart.  That's the turning point in so many events recorded all over the Bible, isn't it?  "...But God....."  Suddenly, a non-accredited Bible college with an emphasis on world missions and classes solely on the Word of God looked to me like one of the smartest investments possible.

Let me put it another way: I've heard people regret having married so young-- that they could have pursued their talents, had they put off starting a family.  Wives are bitter about their husbands "holding them back" from developing a career of their own, or parents lament their child having a medical condition that prevents them from ever following their dreams.  I've had my own relatives downplay to my face God's emphasis on taking the Gospel to other countries, because it simply didn't hold the same value as the comforts of home that they chose to pursue in life.

If you believe this life is all there is and all that matters, it makes sense to think that way.  If you genuinely believe God and what He says about eternity, it absolutely does not.

Are we living in light of eternity, today?  Do we do the simple, daily things for the glory of God?  Or have we "settled" into the short ride of this life, Church?

I am cherishing this "unsettled" feeling.  All my life, and especially as of late, I am constantly reminding myself, "This is just a small taste of how it feels to live free.  Live with a focus on Jesus and Heaven.  This is good.  Stay unattached to the things of this world, my soul.  Be forever clinging tightly to those things which will last: Jesus, His Word, and the eternal state of people's hearts."

I love traveling and living out of a suitcase... always have.  What we have now, however, is neither settled nor travel.  Isn't that what the Christian life looks like, too, though?  Sinking very shallow roots, living only temporarily, in circumstances that we know are not as ideal as they will be one day?

When the early church was persecuted and scattered, Peter addressed his letter to them this way:  "To the temporary residents of the Dispersion."  I love that.

Later, he essentially says, "If you call yourself a Christian, act like one."  But he puts it this way:  "If you address as Father the One who judges impartially based on each one's work, you are to conduct yourselves in reverence during this time of temporary residence." 

Isn't that exactly what a Christian is... a temporary resident?  Temporariness is all over the Bible.

Oh, this bittersweet tension between the already and the not yet!  Yes, we do have a house.  No, we cannot live there right now.  But we sure spend a lot of time and energy preparing to live there, and thinking about what life there will look like.

To be clear, I have absolutely loved living in this RV over the past couple of years.  In many ways, I will will miss it dearly.  But on "rougher" days when it's raining and my toddler has a 2-foot by 8-foot space to run around in, or I could really use a washing machine here, or I run out of gas for our camp stove in the middle of cooking (when we're having other people over for dinner), or I'm making instant rice in a coffee pot (hey, it works!), or a shower seems like paradise itself-- I remember many things.

One thing I think about is that we truly live in luxury compared to a huge part of the world.  Another is that I grew up under much more simple conditions, and it was good.  Yet another is this: the reality of what will be.  There will be a crib in that new house, for sleeping babies.  There will be the fire, and a couch, where Joey and I can curl up together at the end of a long day and be us.

Do we all do that, Heavenly-speaking?  When this life becomes difficult, do we always derive endurance and joy from looking to and really thinking about Jesus coming back and our forever-future?  Do we remind ourselves that we truly have a hope that most in this world do not have?  Do we remember that this is not nearly "as bad as it gets?"  Do we dwell on how unfathomingly beautiful eternity with Jesus will be?

Just ask my husband, who has had to expend a mind-numbing amount of thought and an exhausting amount of work on this project, and he'll tell you that this whole yurt-house-building saga has been proof that it is possible for your mind, energy, and focus to be wrapped up in someplace you don't even live.  (It's a fact that we've lamented because we want to be so much more eternally-minded, but it's a fact nonetheless.)  So let's do that with our someday-home, people.

That's how Paul says to weather this life.  In 1 Thessalonians 4 he describes Jesus' second-coming and how we will all be together with the Lord, and he concludes this way: "Therefore encourage one another with these words."  These words... Not words about how we should actually really be loving this life; not words which give a false hope that things here will get better.  This beautiful picture of what is coming... That is where we are to find encouragement.

People who consistently live with Heaven in view do not get bent out of shape by the little, circumstantial things.  They do not freak out when plans change and things go wrong.  People who take hard times in stride because they know hard times do not damage the sureness of their future... those people exude hope.  And hope is something for which this world is desperately searching.

Yes, I am cherishing this unsettled feeling and the reminder that it brings.  I am cherishing the sehnsucht... cherishing the longing.

But when we have our own "home," it still will not be home.  Our brand new abode, in all spiritual reality, will not be home any more than the moldy house or the RV could be considered "home" right now.

Always, always, always, I want to remember that.

"All I know is, I'm not home yet.
This is not where I belong."

"In acceptance lieth peace."

She who laments her singleness or married-ness, 

children or lack of children, 

finances or lack of finances, 

overabundance or absence of work,

busyness or lack of busyness,

happiness or lack of happiness, 

"calling" or lack of "calling,"

"too"-spiritually-focused husband or completely ungodly husband... 

...She has not come to know peace. She has not yet realized that each season of life is a gift of God--always either allowed by God or GIVEN by God, who knows precisely what each of us needs. This is an incredible fact... Why doesn't it inspire gratitude and joy!?

…Maybe because we don’t really believe it. Not of every circumstance, anyway.

Emotions are God-given (some of them), but they are not our god.

Contentment is a priceless thing. To long for what is not, is to miss what is. And that "is" has been allowed or orchestrated BY GOD. For some purpose. Our spiritual act of worship is to offer our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. Period. This says nothing about location or circumstances. 

~ thoughts and notes to self today