From the preacher's wife
Six years ago we lived in Houston, Tx with 3 white boys. Cory was the youth minister and I was a part-time Occupational Therapist. At the end of a busy summer Cory received a loud and clear, yet not quite audible message from God: "It's time to leave youth ministry."
It was one of those direct messages that a Pentecostal might hear or maybe a really spiritually in-tune Methodist, but rarely a Church of Christ-er. Let's just say, in our faith tradition we know our Bible and know how to pray, but listening for the whisper of the Holy Spirit is typically met with more skepticism.
Cory held on to the message for himself for a few weeks and eventually passed it on to me. A loyalist to my skepticism, I secretly wondered if he had the message wrong and we were victims of a real life telephone game- the mixer where players sit in a line and retell a whispered phrase to the player next to them and so on and so on until the message becomes increasingly tainted. What might have started as "Roses are Red & Violets are blue" morphs into "Roseann & Violet poop blue," because most mixers are played at youth group gatherings and all youth group gatherings are full of junior high boys.
I knew for a fact that we had no squirrelly 12 year old messing with our marital communication line, but I still hoped that somehow, God saying "It's time to leave youth ministry" was supposed to be interpreted as "Your wife is a planner and hates change: Keep plugging along and also ask for a raise."
But, alas.
What followed was the hardest year of our marriage. I went to work full-time, which I hated. Cory stayed home full-time and just focused on surviving because at this point we had added 3 temporary brown boys to our team roster. Most days when I came home, he would tag out and leave the house to get a break from diaper changes, but really to read and pray and try to find himself. He was wandering. And not in the romantic "not all who wander are lost" way, just in the very practical "I am wandering because I am lost way." He was searching. He lost himself and his identity when he let go of youth ministry, it was all we ever knew.
A year passed and Cory never did find himself, though life demanded we settle on a plan. He would get his alternative teaching certificate and then I would be able to go back to work part time. I was relieved.
That's when Crosswalk church entered our lives. Some dear friends from our ministry in Virginia were living in Little Rock and attending a small church plant that was looking for a preacher and "Would we be interested?"
"No. No, we would not, thank you very much," was my immediate thought. I wanted to stick to our plan. Our foster boys would be heading back home soon. I knew Cory could provide for the five of us with a teacher's salary. I was ready to cut back on work and be home with my babies. And wouldn't it be fun to have summers off as a family??
But when the words, "Could you be a preacher?" took hold of Cory's heart, he was found.
We interviewed over the phone and answered easy questions like "Tell us about your faith journey" and much harder questions like when Ian Thomas asked, "What's the nerdiest thing about you?" A few weeks later, they flew us out to Little Rock and in 48 hours we fell in love with the city scenery, we fell in love with our weekend hosts, the Caldwells, and we fell hard for the gathering of Jesus followers at Crosswalk church.
Typically, Western Evangelical churches in the 21st century are a holy mix of Jesus, scripture, worship, and community... with a heavy side of organizational structure, bill paying, nursery volunteer sign-ups, and A/V guys.
Crosswalk nails the Jesus part. We always have. Through the years, we were a magnet for all walks of life. We've welcomed bankers, prisoners, teachers, homeless, republicans, and democrats. We drew in tons of millennials when other churches were struggling to reach that generation. We have divorcees, college grads, addicts, singles, and families... plus along the way a prophetess with a tambourine named Gwen and a mentally challenged woman named Bud, who without fail, brings Cory a scribbled list of scripture references every Sunday.
We are a family for sure. We've had weddings, and only one funeral (that I know of). And we collectively prayed into existence a miracle in-vitro baby that is now the darling of the church.
Through the years Crosswalk has been so good to our family. The true test of a relationship is not the highs, but the lows, and there is no low lower than helping a friend move. The heat. The boxes. The stairs. The sleeper sofa. There is no payout for the movers. It is all sacrifice, it is all selflessness for the sole benefit of the home dwellers. And in five years Crosswalk moved us 3 different times. First, as a family of 5, then after our foster boys came back to us we moved into a second house with 8, and just a few months ago we moved again into our dream house, now that all 10 of us have arrived.
When we moved here, the church welcomed me and claimed me as their own, a sarcastic oversharing preacher's wife. But truthfully I spent most Sundays never getting to talk to anyone because I was corralling rambunctious boys. They also welcomed with surprised, yet proud grins, our rapidly multiplying children and generously made accommodations for when the aforementioned rambunctious boy's needs took over the children's ministry. Crosswalk has always loved the Joneses, I've known it and felt it- but most of all, Crosswalk loves Cory.
They rallied around a man that provoked their faith and made the stories of scripture come to life. Along the way he confronted his own strengths and weaknesses. He gained tattoos and angered some, in an unrelated dynamic, but he was always authentic and prayerful and a truth seeker. I can't count the number of people who have said to me he's the best preacher they've ever heard. He is a fantastic story teller. He has a gift.
When we accepted the job back in 2012, Cory blogged about it by saying: Crosswalk is a church that loves people-all people. It's a bit of a motley crew that gathers every Sunday. People society says should never have the slightest things in common have found love, acceptance, grace, community and healing. People rejected by the Church have found a renewed passion for Jesus and a renewed belief in themselves. A member shared with us that she once heard a person complain about Crosswalk saying, "They just let anybody in there." But everyone took that as a compliment. I can not wait to join the work there...
From the beginning Crosswalk was always been good at the Jesus part, but we struggle at the organizational part. We are a band of non-churchy people wanting to be a church, but wanting to do it differently. In it's 15 years of existence, Crosswalk has never really grown it's membership. We are in a great place financially, but the momentum and the energy of the workers, leaders, and volunteers has worn dry. We are like a team of overseas missionaries that all need a sabbatical at the same time. And so we are closing our doors.
It's weird. I've never been a part of a church that voluntarily closed. This past Sunday, our second to last gathering, we all worshipped and mourned together. It felt very much like a funeral. It doesn't make sense to move forward with something that hurts so much, but it's the right thing to do. We have peace about it.
Our family's priority is to stay in Little Rock. We are hoping to keep life pretty stable for our kids. At first I panicked, worried we would be forced into another hard year of swapping roles where I work full time and he tackles domestic life and homeschooling. The church has vowed to continue their care for us and support us for a bit while he looks for another job- likely not a ministry position this time. There is some ease in the idea of him working a regular job and us being a regular church family. We'd love to find a new church with a youth group for Levi & Titus, and have teens over to the house for devotionals and pizza- like a full circle deja-vu back to our first nine years of marriage.
I don't worry about Cory wandering this time, or losing himself. He knows who he is. He is a preacher at his core even if he doesn't have a pulpit. He is still a story teller. An orater. A writer. A truth seeker. He is a question-asker and a faith provoker.
And so I say: Thank you Crosswalk for the last five years. Thank you for the groceries left on our doorstep, for the two adoption parties, for the Christmas money, for the conversations around Pat's pool, and for wrangling 2 year old Silas in Bible class. Thank you for the game nights, for the small group discussions, for the inspiratoinal worship times, and even the Bachelor watch parties. Thank you for the encouraging lunch dates, the hand-me-downs, and especially the free baby-sitting.
They say the loneliest person in a church is usually the preacher's wife, but I disagree.
Because five years ago, you gave me my husband back. He was wandering and you found him.
Thank you Crosswalk. Thank you for finding Cory.
It was one of those direct messages that a Pentecostal might hear or maybe a really spiritually in-tune Methodist, but rarely a Church of Christ-er. Let's just say, in our faith tradition we know our Bible and know how to pray, but listening for the whisper of the Holy Spirit is typically met with more skepticism.
Cory held on to the message for himself for a few weeks and eventually passed it on to me. A loyalist to my skepticism, I secretly wondered if he had the message wrong and we were victims of a real life telephone game- the mixer where players sit in a line and retell a whispered phrase to the player next to them and so on and so on until the message becomes increasingly tainted. What might have started as "Roses are Red & Violets are blue" morphs into "Roseann & Violet poop blue," because most mixers are played at youth group gatherings and all youth group gatherings are full of junior high boys.
I knew for a fact that we had no squirrelly 12 year old messing with our marital communication line, but I still hoped that somehow, God saying "It's time to leave youth ministry" was supposed to be interpreted as "Your wife is a planner and hates change: Keep plugging along and also ask for a raise."
But, alas.
What followed was the hardest year of our marriage. I went to work full-time, which I hated. Cory stayed home full-time and just focused on surviving because at this point we had added 3 temporary brown boys to our team roster. Most days when I came home, he would tag out and leave the house to get a break from diaper changes, but really to read and pray and try to find himself. He was wandering. And not in the romantic "not all who wander are lost" way, just in the very practical "I am wandering because I am lost way." He was searching. He lost himself and his identity when he let go of youth ministry, it was all we ever knew.
A year passed and Cory never did find himself, though life demanded we settle on a plan. He would get his alternative teaching certificate and then I would be able to go back to work part time. I was relieved.
That's when Crosswalk church entered our lives. Some dear friends from our ministry in Virginia were living in Little Rock and attending a small church plant that was looking for a preacher and "Would we be interested?"
"No. No, we would not, thank you very much," was my immediate thought. I wanted to stick to our plan. Our foster boys would be heading back home soon. I knew Cory could provide for the five of us with a teacher's salary. I was ready to cut back on work and be home with my babies. And wouldn't it be fun to have summers off as a family??
But when the words, "Could you be a preacher?" took hold of Cory's heart, he was found.
We interviewed over the phone and answered easy questions like "Tell us about your faith journey" and much harder questions like when Ian Thomas asked, "What's the nerdiest thing about you?" A few weeks later, they flew us out to Little Rock and in 48 hours we fell in love with the city scenery, we fell in love with our weekend hosts, the Caldwells, and we fell hard for the gathering of Jesus followers at Crosswalk church.
Typically, Western Evangelical churches in the 21st century are a holy mix of Jesus, scripture, worship, and community... with a heavy side of organizational structure, bill paying, nursery volunteer sign-ups, and A/V guys.
Crosswalk nails the Jesus part. We always have. Through the years, we were a magnet for all walks of life. We've welcomed bankers, prisoners, teachers, homeless, republicans, and democrats. We drew in tons of millennials when other churches were struggling to reach that generation. We have divorcees, college grads, addicts, singles, and families... plus along the way a prophetess with a tambourine named Gwen and a mentally challenged woman named Bud, who without fail, brings Cory a scribbled list of scripture references every Sunday.
We are a family for sure. We've had weddings, and only one funeral (that I know of). And we collectively prayed into existence a miracle in-vitro baby that is now the darling of the church.
Through the years Crosswalk has been so good to our family. The true test of a relationship is not the highs, but the lows, and there is no low lower than helping a friend move. The heat. The boxes. The stairs. The sleeper sofa. There is no payout for the movers. It is all sacrifice, it is all selflessness for the sole benefit of the home dwellers. And in five years Crosswalk moved us 3 different times. First, as a family of 5, then after our foster boys came back to us we moved into a second house with 8, and just a few months ago we moved again into our dream house, now that all 10 of us have arrived.
When we moved here, the church welcomed me and claimed me as their own, a sarcastic oversharing preacher's wife. But truthfully I spent most Sundays never getting to talk to anyone because I was corralling rambunctious boys. They also welcomed with surprised, yet proud grins, our rapidly multiplying children and generously made accommodations for when the aforementioned rambunctious boy's needs took over the children's ministry. Crosswalk has always loved the Joneses, I've known it and felt it- but most of all, Crosswalk loves Cory.
They rallied around a man that provoked their faith and made the stories of scripture come to life. Along the way he confronted his own strengths and weaknesses. He gained tattoos and angered some, in an unrelated dynamic, but he was always authentic and prayerful and a truth seeker. I can't count the number of people who have said to me he's the best preacher they've ever heard. He is a fantastic story teller. He has a gift.
When we accepted the job back in 2012, Cory blogged about it by saying: Crosswalk is a church that loves people-all people. It's a bit of a motley crew that gathers every Sunday. People society says should never have the slightest things in common have found love, acceptance, grace, community and healing. People rejected by the Church have found a renewed passion for Jesus and a renewed belief in themselves. A member shared with us that she once heard a person complain about Crosswalk saying, "They just let anybody in there." But everyone took that as a compliment. I can not wait to join the work there...
From the beginning Crosswalk was always been good at the Jesus part, but we struggle at the organizational part. We are a band of non-churchy people wanting to be a church, but wanting to do it differently. In it's 15 years of existence, Crosswalk has never really grown it's membership. We are in a great place financially, but the momentum and the energy of the workers, leaders, and volunteers has worn dry. We are like a team of overseas missionaries that all need a sabbatical at the same time. And so we are closing our doors.
It's weird. I've never been a part of a church that voluntarily closed. This past Sunday, our second to last gathering, we all worshipped and mourned together. It felt very much like a funeral. It doesn't make sense to move forward with something that hurts so much, but it's the right thing to do. We have peace about it.
Our family's priority is to stay in Little Rock. We are hoping to keep life pretty stable for our kids. At first I panicked, worried we would be forced into another hard year of swapping roles where I work full time and he tackles domestic life and homeschooling. The church has vowed to continue their care for us and support us for a bit while he looks for another job- likely not a ministry position this time. There is some ease in the idea of him working a regular job and us being a regular church family. We'd love to find a new church with a youth group for Levi & Titus, and have teens over to the house for devotionals and pizza- like a full circle deja-vu back to our first nine years of marriage.
I don't worry about Cory wandering this time, or losing himself. He knows who he is. He is a preacher at his core even if he doesn't have a pulpit. He is still a story teller. An orater. A writer. A truth seeker. He is a question-asker and a faith provoker.
And so I say: Thank you Crosswalk for the last five years. Thank you for the groceries left on our doorstep, for the two adoption parties, for the Christmas money, for the conversations around Pat's pool, and for wrangling 2 year old Silas in Bible class. Thank you for the game nights, for the small group discussions, for the inspiratoinal worship times, and even the Bachelor watch parties. Thank you for the encouraging lunch dates, the hand-me-downs, and especially the free baby-sitting.
They say the loneliest person in a church is usually the preacher's wife, but I disagree.
Because five years ago, you gave me my husband back. He was wandering and you found him.
Thank you Crosswalk. Thank you for finding Cory.
posted by Christina at
8:26 PM
2 Comments:
I promise I have never in my life met two stronger people with the same ....kind of issues as anybody reading this thank you for giving me a church my church for the first time ever. Thank you for that!
Our church may not say it, but we REALLY need a youth minister. Want to come back?!?! �� I will be praying for you ALL as you face this new path...wherever it may lead you!
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