Silent, but Not Still (part 3... the finale!)

My first thought, after hugging my newly-hired husband, was one of complete, and total panic.

It was Saturday.
We were going to fly back to Indiana Monday morning.
We will be coming back to Philly in 2 short months.

We needed to find a house.

We had (rather audaciously) set up several meetings with realtors prior to our trip out there. Granted, it was at the recommendation of the church leadership, but I still felt a little presumptuous house-shopping before we had even been offered a job.

But on Saturday afternoon, we set off, compliant baby in tow, to look at several houses.

Remember the neighborhood described on our first drive through Philly? Well.... apparently our price range put us just a few blocks over from the terrifying pit-bull fights. As I held my nose in terrifying basements, and wondered if fifteen layers of paint would ever come off the window-sill, I looked in despair at my hubby.

We had talked of living in a rougher neighborhood. And we wanted our home to be a mission. We had prayed that God would give us a house near the people we were wanting to serve. But I couldn't shake the conviction that these houses would probably cave in from mold before we even moved to Philly.

Discouraged, we re-grouped on Sunday (Mother's Day), and looked at four more houses.

They were less terrifying, but Scott was clearly nervous about the home improvement projects, and my Mid-Western heart was screaming for some green space.

We had a simple (we thought) wish-list for our new home.
1. Plenty of parking (so we could have people over).
2. Lots of bedrooms (for all the children and stray grown-ups we are planning on collecting).
3. A little bit of yard.

And then we each had our dream item: I was hoping (after my little, barely-grown-from-a-kitchenette-kitchen) for a real kitchen, and Scott was hopeful that he would find a work-space for his growing collection of tools.

Apparently, houses in Philly don't have yards, parking, or square-footage. Most of the kitchens we looked at hadn't been updated since the '70s. And there were only moldy basements for Scott's future tool bench. I didn't think I was asking a lot. In fact, I was rather proud of my severely tempered expectation. But after finding out that we couldn't afford even the most basic, vinyl mass-produced home, at least, not if we didn't want to majorly blow our budget... I was completely demoralized. Every time I thought of increasing our budget, I would begin to cry... it meant that we couldn't adopt any more babies! I didn't need a kitchen that badly.

Then, Sunday afternoon, I got another feeling. After the success of the "Joshua feeling," I decided to listen to the little internal nudge. If it was foolishness, I would take all the blame. If it was really God working, then He could get all the glory. I turned to Scott,

"Okay... Don't laugh. But... I have a feeling."
He grinned... "I thought you thought "feelings" were kooky."
"Maybe I do," I said, only mildly chagrined, "But I just can't shake this... We need to call the "parking lot house.""

"Parking Lot House" was a listing I had found on zillow.com. The only outside view of the house was of a huge parking lot, with a rather hodgepodge exterior, and an unprepossessing side door. I had fallen in love with parking lot house... its wood floors, pretty kitchen, and big windows. But Scott had called the owner a week earlier, and they had been firm on their price: it was $10,000 more than we could afford.

Scott wasn't in love with "Parking Lot House." So, with that higher price, I dropped it.

But, after my niggling, we went back to zillow.com to see if we could contact the seller. The listing was gone. I was completely undeterred. We had to see that house. I just knew it.

Scott went back through his phone, and called every single Pennsylvania number he had contacted in the past week. Several embarrassing run-ins with realtors (who we had decided not to work with) almost deterred him, but I (seeing as I was not the one making the embarrassing phone calls) was unfazed.

Multiple calls later, he got a hold of the owner! We set up a visit time, bright and early, 8:30 a.m., Monday morning, the day we were flying out.

As we pulled down the street, we saw rows of Victorian "twin homes," an East coast fascination with sharing a wall with your neighbor... Some of the houses were lovely. Some, quite dilapidated. We pulled up to "Parking Lot House" and my heart skipped a beat... it was right next to a massive parking lot, and one of the most gorgeous churches I have ever seen.

"Honey!" I whispered in awe, "Look at all that parking!"

Wish-list number one, answered.

The door was opened by a girl, about my age, who was hip-holding a precious little 12 month-old who looked like he could have been Grant's big brother. She led us through the double french-door entryway and the little, marble-tiled foyer. Although updates were needed, my heart started jumping at the potential. Two sitting rooms, tall windows... and a massive kitchen with granite counter tops and brand new cabinets. My heart probably stopped.

A huge backyard, a two car garage (i.e. future work-room), five bedrooms, an attic master suite, a front stair and back stair, newly redone hard-wood floors, a basement that didn't smell like six different fungi. My wish list with tons and tons and tons of beautiful extras!

But I tried not to fall too hard. It was still outside our budget. It was an amazing deal in Philly. But still outside our budget.

"Do you mind me asking why you took the house off the market? Do you have an offer?"

She smiled, "Well, no... it's not necessary that we move, we would just like to eventually, for my husband's dental practice... It's just..."

She paused.

"We've just been hoping that we could sell this house to people who would have a heart for the neighborhood."

My jaw hit the floor, "No way! We have been praying that we would find a neighborhood that could be a mission field!"

She grinned. "Okay, I totally thought that you guys were Christians. This is awesome! In case you hadn't noticed, the neighborhood around isn't the best. It's not terrible. But it's not the greatest. We've never had anything stolen, but we wanted to move to an area where we could share the gospel."

As we chatted our way back through the house, Scott mentioned that he was finishing seminary in Indiana.

"Where in Indiana?" She asked, "Not Lafayette, Indiana?"
"How do you know about Lafayette, Indiana?"
"Oh," she replied, "One of my best friends from college... her husband is going to seminary there... It's called "Faith Bible Seminary" or something..."

Goosebumps ran up and down my arms.

"That's our seminary!"

There are only 19 guys in the seminary class. And she knew one of them. All the way from Philadelphia. We grinned at each other in delight. I had a feeling that we should be friends. And that we should buy this house.

Because we were willing to work without a realtor, and because I just think they're amazing people who are legitimately interested in sharing the gospel... they lowered the price of the house.

We sent in our purchase agreement and first check two weeks ago.

Tears fill my eyes as I write this. He didn't have to do this. God didn't have to give me all this wonderful goodness. But He gave me my wish list and tens upon thousands of details beyond. We are going to be owning our dream house, Lord willing, by August. In Philadelphia.


Now, tell me that God didn't have a role in that...

Silent, but Not Still (part 2)

I am so excited about our new church family in Philadelphia. They showered blessing upon blessing on us during our brief weekend, and every day was full of countless courtesies that made us feel loved by these brothers and sisters in Christ that we had never met.

We arrived Friday evening.
Had a lovely dinner (with a crying baby, who fell asleep under the table, despite the horrid waiter that kept crashing plates down right above where he was sleeping).
And then Grant and I slept and lounged and dozed in the hotel room all Saturday morning while Scott interviewed.

Scott is amazing. Probably the best husband/pastor/man out there. (He's also a really good kisser, but I doubt they care about that...) So the church offered him the job. Saturday morning.

While Scott was going through the interview process, I was cuddled under a downy comforter, listening to my baby snore, and idly flipping through my Bible, wondering what I should read next...

And I got a feeling.

Now, I must be honest. I was raised by two amazing Christian people. I have gone to one of the best churches on God's good green earth for seventeen years. And through all those years of teaching, I imbibed a skepticism for the "speaking of the Spirit." I believe the Holy Spirit is living and active. I also believe that the Word of God is complete, and that God is not adding to it through direct revelation. So, rather than leave room for the possibility of the Holy Spirit nudging someone along, I, in my black-and-white mind, completely ruled out the possibility that any thought or encouragement could come from the Holy Spirit.

Then I married Scott.

In his own words, he had his "flakey" days, when he lived in the ditch opposite mine: the "open-your-Bible-and-point" and suddenly God's will is revealed. Although he didn't live there any more (and hasn't for quite a few years!), he brought a certain tolerance and "activeness" to the role of the Holy Spirit into my life.

Which is why I listened to this "feeling".... And flipped to Joshua, chapter one. 

In my head, I began to think it out... "Yes, Scott is a Joshua. He is not Moses. He was not the first leader. He did not have to tackle the wilderness of church-planting. But now, he's going in to "conquer the land." He's got lots of battles ahead of him..."

And then I read... 

I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their ancestors to give them.

“Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go. Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Why am I strong and courageous... because the Lord will never forsake me. He will be with me wherever I go.

Even Philadelphia.

God is here. He promised. 

May his promises be my meditation.

Scott burst through the door, excited to tell me about his job offer... and I was prepared to excitedly rejoice with him. New city. New church. New people. New place... Same God. Silently working, and sometimes giving me a nudge towards the truth that I need.

(to be continued)

Silent, but Not Still (part 1)

I have a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad habit. It leaches into my soul, and sucks out all my joy and peace. Worse, it causes me to doubt my amazingly good Savior... For although He is often silent, He is never still.

I forget His protection.

I forget all the times He has circled me around, arranged minute details, and marshaled the forces of man, emotions, and circumstances to work everything in my favor. I always forget it. Always.

And so, to remind myself, I'm going to share an amazing, unbelievable, huge blessing that God lavished on us.

One month ago.

In the city of Philadelphia.

We landed in Philly after a 3 hour delay, frazzled, bedraggled, and navigating a mass of interstate in a car that refused to shift higher than third gear.

Philly drivers are not nice.

Welcome to Philly... where they have to have street signs that say, "Don't Go Until Green" so that people remember they can't go on red. No joke. 

But, in little to no time, I stooped to their level, and was honking and waving angrily with the rest of them. Scott, appalled at my complete lack of Christian charity, attempted to navigate us to smoother waters and quieter streets.

To no avail.

Philadelphia, as it turns out, has some pretty seedy areas. As we got lost (on the south side of Philly, which is like the south side of every other city I have ever driven through), we looked in Mid-West horror out our car windows at electrical wires criss-crossing the street, draped with tennis shoes and grocery bags. Random, scantily-clad women walked in front of our car, with little to no concern for whether or not they had the right-of-way. As I drove by one house (a vivid, peeling fuchsia facade), I almost came out of my skin as a little child tumbled out the door, wrestling a pit-bull for some prized possession. The whole block erupted in pandemonium, and the scantily-clad women crossed the street a little more quickly. The neighborhood, crammed tight with houses, was full of trash, debris, and lost people.

Prayer answered.

You see, Scott and I had been praying that we could go to Gary, Indiana. The inner-city, the poorest of the poor, had weighed heavily on our hearts since our introduction, through a failed adoption, to the lifestyle of people who didn't even have the hope of material comfort, let alone the hope of eternal salvation. But attempt after attempt had resulted in door after door being slammed in our faces. Gary didn't want us.

Or rather, God didn't want us in Gary.

Lucky for us, God picked us up, and moved us to another "Gary." So while some people may have seen pit-bull fights, dodgy wiring, and a terrifying car-ride as an example of God forsaking them... we were elated to see God's continued plan for our lives. In Philadelphia.

But that wasn't all He was doing...


(to be continued)