Week 23: An Unexpected Invitation

Who: Robert

Church: The Gathering

Lunch: Panera

Topic: There are no coincidences.

It was only a matter of time before a stranger invited me to church… 23 weeks, to be exact.

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting at Velo, meeting with a videographer, when a man took the seat at the table beside us, waiting for someone to join him. Our conversation carried on for about ten minutes, weaving through ideas and stories, when I noticed my dear friend, Matt Macaulay, approaching our table. Or so I thought.

As it turns out, Matt wasn’t coming to see me—he was there to meet the man sitting just beside us. Introductions were exchanged in that effortless, serendipitous way that only happens in coffee shops, and that’s when Robert, Matt’s meeting companion, smiled and admitted something.

“I apologize, but I was listening in on your conversation.”

I had to laugh. It wasn’t the first time a stranger has tuned in, and it definitely won’t be the last. But, I love when people hear aspects of our story, or our work, and are moved to engage in conversation, or even get involved. And, in this case, Robert extended an invitation to attend church with him at The Gathering, in Ringgold, where he leads worship.

His pastor, an alumnus from the same seminary I attended, was teaching on Romans 7, which is always a treat for me. (Almost 10 years ago, I took a group of college-aged women through the Book of Romans…. every week for almost two years.) It’s one of my favorite books of the Bible, second only to James. And as I sit here in the coffee shop going through my notes, my bullet points, I’m struck by a few of them given where we find ourselves as a country… and a church.

• When you try to please all, you please none
• Be true to the truth; You will offend some
• We want things to be simple, to be black and white, but they aren’t
• One of the most complicated things on this earth is a Christian

I find myself nodding in agreement with each of these statements, yet I also recognize how, without the right context, they could be misused or misunderstood. Truth without clarity can be wielded as a weapon just as easily as it can be a foundation. And in a time when our world craves certainty, it’s tempting to distill complex realities into easy answers—when, in reality, faith often calls us to sit in the tension.

On my second page of notes, I have underscored and placed multiple asterisks by the following notation:

“When society is friendly, keeps the peace, things are “normal” – this is the grace of God. But when God pulls His hand from society… it goes nuts.”

I want to leave this quote as a marker for my next post because the pastor at The Gathering approached this topic in a way that stood in stark contrast to the church I visited later that evening. One thing I’ve become increasingly attuned to is how pastors weave politics into their sermons—sometimes subtly, sometimes unmistakably—making it clear not only where they stand but also where they expect their congregants to stand.

That was NOT the case at The Gathering. In fact, I had absolutely no idea where this pastor stood politically—and that, in itself, felt refreshingly rare. What I did notice, however, was the almost painstaking intentionality in his message. Rather than using the pulpit to push an agenda, he leaned into the tension of what it truly means to follow Jesus in today’s culture—a journey that is anything but simple, neat, or easily categorized. His focus wasn’t on drawing political lines but on illuminating the complexity, the cost, and the countercultural nature of discipleship.

During lunch, Robert and I talked about ALL THE THINGS! Honestly, I love conversations like the one we had that morning. I appreciate a “crazy Jesus story” and Robert definitely has one of those. But, it’s also encouraging to be reminded of the ways God moves in unexpected places and through unexpected people. Hearing Robert’s story—his struggles, his doubts, and the moments where everything seemed to fall apart, only for grace to show up—was both humbling and inspiring. It’s easy to forget that faith isn’t always neat and predictable; sometimes, it’s wild, messy, and full of surprises.

Conversations like this remind me that we’re not alone in our questions, our searching, or even in the moments when we feel like we’re getting it all wrong. God meets us there. And sometimes, He does it in ways that make for the best “crazy Jesus stories” we’ll tell for years to come.

A few days later, I was having a conversation with a friend when she asked how I was capable of staying optimistic in the face of so much adversity. I had to laugh. She was talking about the kind of optimism that doesn’t always come naturally—the kind that feels less like blind hope and more like a choice you have to make every single day. She was talking about the way we keep pushing forward, even when the weight of the world feels unbearable.

I had to laugh because the truth is, I don’t always feel optimistic. There are moments when the problems seem too big, when the setbacks feel personal (and sometimes they are), and when the work feels endless. But what keeps me going isn’t the absence of struggle—it’s the belief that change is still possible. It’s the people I’ve met who refuse to give up. It’s the students who dream big despite their circumstances, the community members who show up for each other, and the small victories that remind me why we started in the first place.

Optimism, for me, isn’t about ignoring the hard things—it’s about choosing to fight for the good despite the hard things. And meeting people like Robert is a reminder that hope isn’t just an abstract idea—it’s something we build together, one conversation, one act of kindness, one moment of understanding at a time. Robert’s story, his resilience, and his willingness to keep going despite the obstacles remind me that change happens in small, steady steps. It’s in the way people show up for each other, in the communities that refuse to be defined by their struggles, and in the belief that even the smallest efforts can ripple outward in ways we may never fully see.

CHALLENGE: This week, the challenge is simple: REST. Take care of yourselves, my friends. Check in on your people.