Breathless Haste

On Saturday morning, Rebecca and I had breakfast with Vic. He shared the story of how the Peachtree church began. In 1909, a couple in a horse and buggy were on their way home from the funeral of their four-month-old son, Lance. They noticed children playing along the road and decided to start a Sunday school for those children to honor the memory of their son. The church grew from there, and Lance’s baby bonnet is contained in the cornerstone of the church. As Vic shared this story, Rebecca and I looked at each other, knowing what the other was thinking. The convergence of their story and ours was amazing. If we had a cornerstone for our life in ministry, it would contain something from Brock’s life. Here we were, one hundred years later in a restaurant located on the property near where their home once stood, feeling led to be a part of carrying on their vision.

I was offered the position of pastor for mission later that day. I told them I needed to talk it over with our children. We had told them that they would be part of our decision, and we needed to honor that. A couple of days later we were at the beach house in South Carolina for the annual family gathering, and the children were in the pool. I said, “So what do y’all think?” They smiled and gave a big thumbs-up. Later, Neale helped me press send on the resignation email to my boss in Chicago that I had composed months earlier. That day was also the first day of school in Atlanta. We had no idea where we would live or what schools they would attend, so more frenetic weeks ensued.