Searching for Jesus in A̶m̶e̶r̶i̶c̶a̶ Chattanooga

Right now, our family is in Mt. Vernon, Washington. Literally, that’s were we are. I’m not sure how to describe where we are emotionally. Psychologically. We’re in a weird place. That much I do know. And it isn’t bad. In fact, I would even argue that it’s good. But, we’re definitely experiencing some growing pains. Pruning. Refining. All of my favorites.

I received a text this week. Out of the blue. From a Christian artist we know and adore. He was praying for our family and felt like the Lord gave him a vision for us. I’m still processing it all. For a lot of reasons. #1) The vision thing freaks me out. I’ll be diving deep into that one a few posts down the road. #2) We’re at a precipice. The Lord has been leading us there for months. Years. We’ve been praying for the Lord to make the path clear. We know He is beginning something new, BUT HAVE NO FREAKING CLUE WHAT IT IS. And then we get a text from someone we haven’t talked to in months telling us that a new beginning is about to happen… something we’ve been talking about as a family, but haven’t discussed with ANYONE.

It’s a little too much for this Southern Baptist girl to take in. But, I think that’s the point.

I’m going to share with you a private conversation that took place between me and the Lord at the beginning of this trip. (At the time, it was a one-way conversation. I don’t audibly hear His voice. But, He MOST CERTAINLY has been making His feelings about our little conversation known throughout our trip.) My prayer was simple. The first request: Wherever I have put You in a box, show me. I think my exact words were, “Please, tear the walls down.” That part of the prayer wrecked me a few weeks later when Syd and I were in Nashville. (Yeah… just hold on for that story!)

The second part of the prayer: Show us how to be a voice of truth. This one is more complex. I’m not quite sure how to articulate my thoughts behind it. Or my motivations. Probably because He’s still working it out in my heart. And my head. I have the heart of a prophet. Anyone who reads the Old Testament knows it never goes well for the prophets, which probably explains a lot of my history with leadership in the church. But, it’s so much more than pointing fingers. It’s about seeking truth… the implications of living out truth. The spiritual fruit derived from walking in truth.

One thing I’ve learned on this trip: We’re not alone in our frustration with what we see happening in our country… in the church. We’ve met with professed Christians on this journey who fervently believe someone will go to hell because they’re gay (not because they aren’t saved) and those who believe all roads lead to God. Both sides of the pendulum are askew from the gospel of Jesus Christ. I can also tell you about the guy who said having a gun was his God given right and that gender equality will never work because men are best served… the way God intended… when women are at home. (What I love most about writing this paragraph is knowing how people are going to react. One person might want to spit nails right now and another might be asking, “What’s wrong with that belief?”)

My suggestion: We sit down and have a conversation.

The stories we’re about to share are real. They might challenge you theologically. They most definitely have challenged me. But there is beauty in the pursuit. Unlikely friendships have been forged. (One of the people I correspond with the most is a pastor in Texas who’s theology is way different than mine.) Our lives have been forever changed. Our kids are learning what it means to seek truth and fight for unity. We know a lot of people who talk about the former, but don’t seem to care about the latter. We want to see that change… there’s only one way to do it:

Bring the things dividing us out into the light and talk about them the way Christ calls us to.

People often ask how we decide our partnerships for Be The Change Youth Initiative. There’s no real answer to that question except the Holy Spirit. Sometimes it’s just a matter of talking to someone and knowing we’re meant to work with them. Other times, Sydney finds an organization, reads about their mission and says, “I think we should help them.” That was the case with Guitars for Glory, a non-profit based in Rochester, New York. 

In the fall of 2018, we kept seeing their posts on our Instagram feed. Pictures of people around the world receiving guitars. Videos of some in Africa, overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, receiving the gift of music. Two things that capture Sydney’s heart: music and world travel. (It’s only a matter of time before she’s gone. Not just out of the house… um… RV. But, on a plane or boat headed to some other continent.) So, we reached out to see if we could get involved. The timing was serendipitous. (That’s code for Jesus.) They had just received a request for instruments headed to Uganda with an organization called Reaction Tour. The cost would be over $1,000. 

At that point, we were praying about how to proceed with Be The Change Youth Initiative. Would we even continue the mission at all? Between the costs for creating the music for Be The Change Collective, our travel expenses, and merchandise, we were hemorrhaging money. We also give most of our profits away, which really isn’t a sustainable business model. (But, we also knew the Lord was calling us to do it this way. He still is and it drives people crazy. Especially church people, ironically enough.) We were at a crossroad, but we also knew this was a need we could help meet, so we asked if we could help. 

That December, we asked kids to use their gifts and talents to help raise the money. Some of these kids baked Christmas cookies and held hot chocolate stands. It was a seasonal rendition of our Fundraising Initiative, which raised approximately $1,300 for the instruments needed for the Reaction Tour. But, it was so much more than that. I remember a parent telling me how thankful she was to have something her kids could be a part of during the holiday season. Something that puts their attention on others and not the Target Christmas catalog. (Again, we knew there was something to this thing, a little engine that we knew COULD be a catalyst for change. But we just didn’t know how. We still don’t! But this little engine is still truckin’ so we’re still going.)

We wanted to visit our friends at Guitars for Glory, so we decided to make Rochester our first stop as we headed down Texas to start our work with Make-A-Wish. I feel like I could write a book about all the things that happened that weekend. The Lord confirmed so much about our decision to walk away from everything. First, we met with the youth pastor from Jeff Roeter’s church. (Jeff is one of the founders of Guitars for Glory.) You can imagine how hesitant we were to meet with him given our past experiences. But, this meeting was a breath of fresh air. Listening to him speak about the need for Sydney’s generation to be equipped for discipleship, instead of entertained with silly antics, was the encouragement we needed.

This was followed up with a tour of a local pregnancy care center in Rochester where we heard about their work in the community. We also shared with them our story and the Carry On Project. It was the first time we dropped of the download cards for Carry On. Our hope has been to drop these cards off at pregnancy care centers as we travel the country. It points women to our website, where they can read our story and download the song for free. It’s still the most visited page on our website.

The night ended with an amazing dinner at Jeff’s home. Many of the Board Members for Guitars for Glory joined us and from the moment we met them we knew they were OUR people. The people we have prayed the Lord would bring into our lives. Those sometimes seemingly non-existent like-minded people who actually live their lives, imperfectly as it may be, like Jesus is real and that our purpose in this life is to glorify Him. They don’t pretend to have all the answers, but constantly look to the One who does. They don’t shy away from the hard things. They make mistakes, but are quick to own them… to learn from them. These are our people.

We crammed into the living room after dinner to share our story. It’s crazy to think about it now. I mean, the story up to that point was pretty amazing, but what He’s done since we’ve been on the road… it all seems so surreal. The kids also got a chance to share their music. Brayden singing for the second time in front of a group of people. An INTIMATE group of people. I still remember how nervous he was. He’s definitely not the same kid he was five months ago. None of us are.

I think the most memorable moment of the night came at the end. You see, a funny thing happened almost as soon as we started the journey: The internal pick up on Brayden’s guitar stopped working. Super problematic when you’re a touring musical act that only uses a guitar. We were hoping one of the guys from Guitars for Glory could fix it, but they actually did something even better. They gave Brayden a brand new guitar. It was a brand we had never heard of before: Gopher Wood. (It’s probably a brand we will never be without again!) So many songs have been written on that guitar over the past five months. The kids share it on stage. (Sydney’s Taylor cost more than my first car, but she loves Brayden’s guitar!) A lot of healing has taken place as Sydney and Brayden have used that instrument to create melodies for the words the Lord has placed on their hearts. Sydney’s face in the picture below says it all. It was an extravagant gift, unexpected. Treasured. Much like the people who filled the room that night.

Some of those people have truly become like family to us. Jeff’s mom, Kathy, (seen in the picture below), is part of a small group of women I have praying for us while on the road. Jeff has arguably become my kids biggest cheerleader. As a parent, you pray for people like him to enter into their lives. A voice you trust, speaking truth in such a way that your kids will listen… even if it’s the same thing you’ve said a gazillion times! They’ve reached out to Jeff several times on the road to ask for help, or advice, and he’s always quick to respond.

THIS is what we envisioned our grand adventure being filled with. Moments that filled our cup and reminded us why we’re on the journey. Moments like these have most definitely occurred, but it’s been sporadic. They actually come at the exact moment one of us is ready to throw in the towel. It’s not a coincidence. I can give you at least 20 examples. And you’ll read about them in the weeks ahead. But, for this weekend, it was about more than encouragement. The Lord was widening or circle, growing our family. We’re so thankful for these people!

Our first official stop on the six-month road trip was Rochester, New York, by way of Niagara Falls. Visiting Niagara in April isn’t ideal, but when the only other option is not visiting at all, you settle for the less-than stellar views and closed exhibits. But, before the Falls, we made an overnight stop at Freedom Run Winery. Thanks to the advice of pretty much everyone we asked, Harvest Host was one of our first travel investments and it’s quite genius actually. The premise is simple: For roughly $70, their membership connects you with hundreds of small businesses, farms, museums, and golf courses across the nation. If you agree to support their small business, they let you spend the night on their property for free. (Yes, I know it’s not technically free, but it has been a GREAT way for Jamie and I to have a date night without feeling guilty for spending money on ourselves. When a lot of your living expenses are funded through the generosity of others…. you start to think about things like that.)

This was our first night at a Harvest Host location. We arrived about 15 minutes before closing and made a great first impression by using the wrong entrance and then finding ourselves unable to turn around… or back up. Thankfully, the owner helped us out by moving her car, giving us enough room to make the wide turn. Jamie decided to drop me off at the winery and told me to order something for him while he got the kids set up. It seemed simple enough. He wasn’t going very far. Literally 200 yards. So, in the meantime, I began talking to the owner and his son about the winery and life in Niagara. (Did you know that area of New York is ideal from making wine?!?) 

Eventually, the conversation switched over to faith. It usually does with me. I never know how people will react. Some are an open book, willing to tell me their every thought on the topic, while others look for any opportunity to duck out of the conversation as soon as possible. But, on this occasion, I found someone willing to talk at length about his history with organized religion… about his belief in God, but his lack of tolerance for the hypocrisy of many professed Christians. And he isn’t alone. In every state we’ve been to, it’s like a broken record: I believe in God, but don’t really care for the church. It’s obviously something that resonates with our family, but it’s also something that breaks me. I’ve cried so many times over this issue the past few months. 

Eventually, Jamie made it down the join us, but he didn’t look good. The expression on face was new to me, but it has become one he wears pretty frequently lately. It’s the face of defeat. On this occasion, he wrestled with the car tow… and the car tow won. I guess the guys at the RV dealership put the tow on incorrectly, so when Jamie went to take the car off… the bumper decided to stay on the tow. So we were 0-2 when it came to RV experiences so far. Two days in. I don’t think I can stress this enough: Two days in and we were seriously wondering if we made the biggest mistake of our lives. But, the next couple of days made up for it. In a BIG way. 

I’ve said it a few times here, but just in case you’re new to the story… this is not a “How to RV Across the Country” blog. Please, don’t look to us for guidance or tips, unless you’re looking for wisdom on what NOT to do. That’s not humility. That’s truth. Anyone with any common sense would NEVER do what we did… unless the Holy Spirit was leading. It’s the ONLY way ANY of this makes sense. 

At some point in February, when it became clear the road trip was going to take place, Jamie and I decided to join a Facebook Group for those looking to transition into the RV life. The first webinar, entitled “Five Thing NOT to Do When Purchasing a RV” seemed like a great first step… until we started watching. We already violated the first two steps! I remember looking at Jamie, while I closed the laptop, saying, “This isn’t going to be helpful.” 

A few months later, we pulled our rented U-Haul into the RV dealership in Pennsylvania. We bought the RV without even driving it… or even seeing it in person. The kids were super excited at first. It was a new experience. It was a HUGE purchase. (From a fiscal responsibility perspective, it was a HORRIFIC acquisition. I’m pretty sure nothing depreciates like a RV… and I know nothing falls apart faster! Dave Ramsey would NEVER have approved, which probably made me want to buy it all the more!) But, about 90 minutes later, I was literally throwing things out of the RV and the most undignified, unrighteous things were coming out of my mouth… while we were STILL at the dealership. 

Everything went pretty smoothly until the last twenty minutes. We purchased a tow dolly for our car and the guys working at the dealership were helping Jamie get it hitched to the RV. I decided to use my time wisely and start putting things away. It was going to be a long night, sleeping in a big box, at a camp ground with complete strangers only feet away. Honestly, I needed a distraction. For the first time, I was starting to freak out. Sharing a small space with five other people and a dog isn’t fun. (I’m saying that almost five months in. I love my family and I LOVE what we’re doing. But, we are six people with VERY strong personalities. The fact that we haven’t killed each other is PROOF that Jesus is real. Seriously.)

I began making my bed, which was no small feat. There’s no easy way to make a full-size bed in a RV. It took me approximately 20 minutes to maneuver the mattress enough to slip on the fitted sheet, top sheet, comforter and pillow cases. I worked up a sweat, mostly because it was pushing 80 degrees outside the RV oven. God only knows how hot it was inside. I threw the last pillow on the bed and began to walk outside, when Tenley, our puppy, ran past me. She jumped on the newly made bed and began releasing a stream of urination rivaling the elephants I saw on safari in Uganda. As I began screaming at her, she just peed faster. To this day, that dog has NEVER peed that much again. NEVER. 

I honestly don’t remember much of what happened after that moment. I recall Tenley running out of the RV as Sydney rushed in with a horrified look on her face. Probably because she rushed in at the sound of my screams, expecting God knows what, and was met with a deluge of salty language. Brayden followed close behind, but his expression was completely different than his sisters. He looked confused. Bewildered. 

I made both of them leave the RV. I remember Sydney closing the doors and telling Jamie not to go in. I stripped the bed as I sobbed uncontrollably. Our trip was NOT supposed to start this way. We only had one set of sheets, which were now stuffed in a garbage bag because they reeked. I finished the rest of my time at the dealership trying to scrub the dog urine off the mattress.

We eventually made it to the KOA in Hershey. I’m pretty sure I didn’t say much the whole ride there. No one did. I think everyone was afraid to say anything. You see, I’m the one who, when times are bad, ALWAYS has a positive attitude. Especially over the past two years. But here we were, not even one hour into the official RV trip and I was already defeated. I’m sure Jamie was beside himself. He was still in a daze from walking away from his job, questioning EVERYTHING! But trusting God… trusting MY trust in God. (Also something I will talk about a little later on.) I’ll end the story here: Thankfully, the KOA had a place to do laundry. Thankfully, my husband packed a bottle of wine for the trip. Thankfully, no one was in the laundry room that night while I sat there with my pee-stained sheets drinking a glass of wine by myself. I won’t lie. There was a moment where I sat back and said, “Sweet Jesus, what have we done?” It wouldn’t be the last time I asked myself that question. It also wouldn’t be the last time I drank wine while doing laundry. I’m actually sitting at the laundromat in Yellowstone at this very moment, with a glass of wine., making new friends… talking about Jesus. 

It’s 11:25pm and everyone’s asleep except for me and Tenley, our dog. Tonight, our humble abode can be found snuggling between the trailer of a vagabond twenty-something and decked out tour bus in a Cabela’s parking lot in Billings, Montana. There are at least eight other RVs parked here and I quite literally have to fight the instinct to knock on each door and say, “Pleases, tell me the story that has you sleeping in the parking lot tonight.” I’ve come to learn that people like us… people who camp out in a parking lot…. we have a story.

Looking back over the past four months, there’s SO MUCH I would have told myself then… knowing what I do now. Things that would have saved us time and money. Things that would have prevented fits of frustration and our kids’ ears from explicit language spewing out of our mouths. (Mostly Jamie, but I can hold my own, unfortunately.) But, it would have also caused us to miss out on some seriously needed refining and pruning. We’re different people now than we were then. Praise God.

The next part of the story has us heading from Connecticut, to visit my brother and his family in Maryland. He graciously let us crash at his house before picking up the RV the following day. That event, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily worthy of an entire blog post, however, the story behind how I met my brother is. So, I’m sharing that today. I promise… it’s worth the read.

Interesting fact about me: I don’t share my husband’s last name. When people find out, especially men in the church, they usually assume that I’m some “flaming feminist” with a problem submitting to her husband’s authority. Seriously. I’ve had men say this to my face. And women. (I’ll save that topic for another post. I promise.) I actually find the comments amusing. Ignorant, but amusing. I’m also pretty quick to point out that neither feminism, nor my husband’s authority, is something I take issue with and that their assumptions give evidence to their stupidity. (I’m a little nicer than that. Usually.)

The reason why my name is different is logistically simple, but, also emotionally complicated. Long story made short: Before my parents married, my father had another wife and two children. It wasn’t something he ever talked about growing up. I remember finding pictures of his children and asking my mom who they were. My curiosity was alway met with blunt, nonsensical responses. Eventually, I pieced together the truth. My dad married young and became a parent far quicker that he should have. (And I would take that a step farther and contend that parenthood wasn’t a calling for him. Some people just aren’t made for it. He most definitely wasn’t.)

He eventually left his family. Completely. He divorced his wife and signed away the parental rights for his children. I won’t pretend to know why. It’s something I can’t fathom. He tried to contact them a few times throughout his life. Maybe conviction and regret got the best of him. But, he died without ever meeting them again. And his death also meant a huge road block for me to ever meet them. I didn’t know their names or where they lived. So, when it came time for Jamie and I to get married, I told him that I needed to keep my name, not because I didn’t like his, or because my identity was wrapped up in seven letters. It was because I knew the only chance I ever had to meet my brother and sister was if they found ME. And the only way they could do that was through my name. (This was years before DNA testing kits, when VHS tapes were still on the shelves and pumpkin spice flavoring wasn’t in Spam. Back when the world hadn’t lost its collective mind.)

If you know Jamie, you know this wasn’t even an issue. I’ve never met a human being more confident in who he is, yet so humble in living out that confidence. It’s almost like God knew what He was doing when he put us together. (It definitely takes a “special” human being to deal with me on a daily basis.) There were always the awkward moments when someone would call him Mr. Catlett. Our kids still snicker when it happens. And, like I mentioned before, I have received my share of eye-rolls over the years due to my choice to not take Jamie’s name. But, over time you learn to deal with people’s assumptions, which truly is a sad commentary on our society as a whole.

Years past and we never really thought about the difference in our names until about 10 years ago when I received an email from my editor. Back then, I was writing for a Christian magazine in the midwest. My editor had received an email from a woman asking for my contact information. When my editor informed the woman that doing so would go against company policy, the woman explained that she had been married to my father years before and wanted to get in touch with him. (Yeah… I know. We really need to write a book about our lives. Probably 10 books because the volume of crazy Jesus stories is pretty insane.)

I remember receiving the forwarded email from my editor. I was sitting in my office, working on an article when the email popped up. I opened it immediately and read through it several times before I began putting the pieces together. The first time through, I thought the email went to the wrong person. The second time, I began to remember my dad’s former life. Could this actually be his first wife? The third time through, I remembered why I never changed my name and all the people who said it would be pointless because the likelihood of my brother and sister ever finding me (or ever wanting to find me) was probably miniscule. It was the proverbial needle in a haystack, but like everything else, when Jesus is involved, there’s this magnet in your life…. no matter the seemingly insurmountable amount of hay and how infinitesimal the size of the needle, the dots are connected. The lost are found. Always.

Eventually I connected with my father’s ex-wife. I had to tell her that he passed away long ago. She told me about her life and the lives of her children; she suggested the possibility of us all meeting. Because the story isn’t just mine to share, I’ll leave it here. But, almost ten years have passed since that moment and I have a brother because of it. Something I longed for ever since I was a child. I also have the most amazing sister-in-law, and a nephew and niece. If you know me, you know I come from a broken family. The word dysfunctional doesn’t begin to describe my upbringing. But, despite everything, the Lord was faithful in giving me the one thing I ever really wanted: a family that truly loved me, unconditionally and unequivocally. Of course, I have that with Jamie and the kids, but being raised in a family whose love was conditional at BEST…. it leaves a mark (some of my fellow Enneagram 8s can attest to that!)

Years removed from it all, people ask why I haven’t changed my name. (It’s a little annoying, if I’m honest. But, I always laugh at how completely acceptable people think it is to ask the question. FYI… it isn’t. Mind your business and keep your opinions to yourself.) But, here’s the truth: My name is like an Ebenezer stone. It reminds me of His faithfulness. How He finds the needle in the haystack. How He makes the seemingly impossible merely mathematically improbable. He’s reminded us of that time and time again over the past four and a half months. He is faithful and very real. He isn’t a myth, or a coping mechanism, for weak-minded people. I think the problem is that we put Him in a box. I know I did, but He obliterated it about four months ago.

***Ministry Update: As some of you know, this blog isn’t in “real time.” At least, not yet. As I type this, we’ve finished up our tour of the Midwest and are currently driving through Such Dakota. The delay was intentional because I needed time to process my thoughts. We’re four months into this insane adventure, driving through our 29th state. We’re coming to a fork in the road, figuratively speaking. We know our lives are about to change. We can feel it. ****

Almost everywhere we go, someone inevitably asks if we’re taking notes on how to live out this grand adventure. But, here’s a confession: You don’t want our notes. I promise. Jamie’s always quick to respond, “The only notes we have: What NOT to do.” It’s true. All the experts will tell you that we’ve done everything “wrong.” And maybe from the world’s standards we have. But, the Lord is leading us to the road less traveled. Honestly, it feels like He’s just dropping us in the middle of a 2000 acre corn field with only a machete to carve out our the trail. (We just spent the past two weeks driving through corn. It’s fresh on my mind.) We have no compass or map. No sense of direction. Just a gentle blowing of the wind… and pretty much all six of us questioning which direction the wind is blowing. We’re a ridiculous mess.

As we encroached on two weeks without a home, we finally purchased a RV… in Pennsylvania. Without ever driving it. Without even looking at it. This isn’t recommended. EVER. (You should see the faces of seasoned RVers when they hear our story. They can’t hide their horror at the thought of making sure a huge purchase without due diligence.) Because the model we settled on (Entegra Odyssey) was different than the models we originally looked at, our cargo capacity changed. In short, we had to shave about 150 pounds of weight. That might not seem like a lot, but it meant only bringing 460 pounds into the RV. And when the kids’ instruments weight 75 pounds, and then you add the InstaPot and clothes for six people… things start to add up REALLY fast. Jamie and I spent HOURS packing and then stepping on a scale to weigh ALL. THE. THINGS… and then repacking. There were casualties from this process… like my coffee maker. If you know me… you know I cried. For real. (From the beginning, the Lord was showing us how much we relied on things of this world…how comfortable we had gotten in this world.)

After everything was packed up, we headed to Pennsylvania. Jamie took Brayden and Tenley, our dog. (Yes, our dog), while I drove the other three kids in the car, making a quick stop in Bridgeport, Connecticut, before heading down. A friend of ours had left Maine years back to plant a church in Bridgeport. At the time, I remember so many people in our church being confused. Why would a older white male from Maine want to plant a church in a inner-city community in Connecticut? Why would you want to walk away from the (safe) life you built to venture into the unknown circumstances of inner-city ministry? Other people thought it was odd. I thought it was magnificent.

I’ve been friends with Doran for a while. We’ve watched his ministry flourish despite the setbacks. I’ve watched him evolve into one of the fiercest advocates for racial equality that I personally know. He fights for his community, no matter the cost. Knowing him and witnessing his work has made me a better person and I wanted my kids to benefit for his existence in the world. At his relentless pursuit of being the hands and feet of Jesus. So, we spent a few hours with him.

While our time was short, it was life giving. He shared with us the reality of systemic racism, ingrained in the political and governmental infrastructure of their community. In many communities across our country. He talked about the importance of the church being present and active in the lives of the youth. Twice on our tour through the city, Doran jumped out of the car to talk with people in his neighborhood. It was beautiful to watch. He kept apologizing for the delays, but I can’t think of a better way to start our adventure. It was a profound example of the importance of connection. You never know when the Lord is going to place someone in your path. Someone He wants you to connect with. Someone that will impact your life. Someone that might profoundly change everything.

The Lord has put SO MANY people in our path. They have forever changed our lives… and our love for the church.

My husband’s last day of work at the Department of Justice was March 8th and we closed on our home March 15th. But, there was no RV, or any real plan for the future outside of spending time in Texas to raise money for Make-A-Wish. Thankfully, one of Jamie’s co-workers offered us his rental property at Pine Point, Maine. Even in this, the Lord placed His hand and extended His favor.

The Lord constantly brings non-believers into our lives. It’s usually people with true animosity towards the institution of church or those who feel they have strayed so far off the beaten path that entering the doorway of any holy place would cause it to burn down. (I always assure them they don’t have that much power. God can handle anything they throw His way.) This co-worker in particular holds a special place in my heart. I have prayed for his salvation more than anyone else. I know the Lord is chasing him… and using him.

Here’s a confession: Those two weeks at his rental property were hard. We questioned everything. Especially how we were going to finance this expedition. We tallied up the cost for living on the road for months. The cost: $30,000. Yep. (We immediately began wishing our saving practices were more on point. We’re not big on saving. We’re big on giving.) Since being on the road, we go through about $1,500 a month just on gas! We’ve already traveled over 10,000 miles in less than four months. This expense alone will cost us approximately $9,000 for those six months.

So, how would we cover those costs? We decided to break it down into thirds. Our family would contribute $10,000. We would also fundraise (ask for financial support) for $10,000 and then take love offerings on the road to cover the remaining third. It was a great plan. Our part was pretty straight forward. We sold our home, so we had the money to contribute. However, asking for fundraising support was a little more difficult. Yes, it’s hard asking people for money. But, it was more than that. How do you ask people to support something… when you have NO IDEA what that “something” is?

We knew the Lord was calling our family to speak to the collective church about the importance of receiving and encouraging children, but we also knew there was something deeper He was calling us into. And once we realized what it was… there was part of us ready to retreat. I remember standing before the audience at Sydney’s farewell event, telling them how the Lord was calling our family to sit down with people across the theological spectrum to talk about our divisiveness. To talk about abortion, immigration, racial and gender equality, our obsession with national identity at the potential expense of our kingdom identity. I knew how uncomfortable some of them were… and I told them so. I asked them to push into the discomfort and rest in it for a bit. And, in that moment, our mission, years in the making, was solidified.

We raised a little over $2,000 that night, including all the gift cards to Target, Walmart, and Starbucks. (The latter was never included in our budget, but has been such a blessing. Especially when I write. It’s a first-world luxury, but it has kept me sane the past four months!) Since being on the road, we have raised the remaining $8,000. The Lord had been so incredibly faithful in placing generous people in our path. Several of them give to us monthly. Some weekly. (I’ll share more about this later, because God has used these people to answer prayers… prayers we were afraid to pray.)

Right now, I’m sitting at a coffee shop in St. Louis, Missouri. Almost four months, to the day, into this adventure. The remaining $10,000 seems a little irrelevant now because so much has changed. The six month time fame has been extended to 10 months. Be The Change Youth Initiative is becoming a family affair, each of us finding our place and our voice. The ministry has expanded beyond any of our expectations. We can’t plan or prepare for almost anything… we can only hold on. We’ve said it at least 100 times over the past two months: We thought we knew what it was to follow Jesus before this adventure began. We didn’t. Not even close.

Get ready to follow a story that we pray offers hope to those who have walked away from the church. This journey is for you.

So… how did we get to the place where my husband would walk away from his dream job with the Department of Justice, we would sell our home, give away 60% of our possessions and purchase a RV… HAVING NEVER BEEN CAMPING A DAY IN OUR LIVES? Well, the simple answer: JESUS.

Our original plan was actually a shorter version of our current situation. My husband planned on taking a leave from his job. We were going to rent (or purchase) a RV and travel the country for the summer, sharing the message of Be The Change Youth Initiative and raising money for Make-A-Wish Texas Gulf Coast and Louisiana. We felt like this was the “practical” next step, and if nothing else, an epic way to spend the summer. On December 17th (2018), this was our plan. But, the Lord threw a HUGE wrench into that plan on December 22nd.

Having worked for the federal government for years, our family was used to my husband’s sporadic announcements that we might have to go a few days, or weeks, without a paycheck. Sadly, it was something we expected to happen at one point or another. So, when it was looking like the federal government was headed towards a shutdown at the end of 2018, we didn’t think much of it. When we went to the bank in January to see about getting a loan on our house, we never considered the possibility of being denied. NEVER. I still remember the loan officer’s face as she told me the news. She felt so bad and admittedly embarrassed. Our credit score was over 800. But, the rules were the rules. Jamie technically had no income coming in, and by the second week in January, the possibility of a prolonged shutdown was growing.

Our original plan centered around our bank extending us a loan for the RV and the ability to rent our house in Portland, Maine, during the summer season. It actually was a great plan… adventurous, and not “too crazy” or financially irresponsible. But, that stupid government shutdown, right? At the time, that’s how we felt. But, truth be told… seven months removed from the ridiculousness… that shutdown was another obstacle in the road, directing us down a path we NEVER would have chosen for ourselves. NEVER.

By mid-January, the shutdown had no end in sight and Jamie’s supervisor told him to brace for a prolonged stretch. And then my husband proposed the unthinkable: Selling our home. If you know our family, you would assume these words would be coming from my lips, not my husband’s. Our home was our safe place, our safety net. But, in some ways, it was also tying us down and keeping us from the life we were meant to live. (Something we couldn’t see at the time.) Selling our home seemed a little too radical, even for us. But, we took the step and asked the Lord to close the door if it wasn’t His plan.

We had a friend, and fellow believer, who was a real estate agent. We told her our predicament and asked if she could help us list the house. In Maine, January is the WORST possible time to sell a home. People are recovering from over spending during the holidays and winter is settling in for an extended visit. She did a community price analysis and came back with a selling price that Jamie and I both felt was too high… not for the market, necessarily. We just wanted to be aggressive because there was a timetable we were working off of. Hearing our concerns, she thought it would be a good idea to lower the price buy $20,000. And in that moment, Jamie made the decision to leave it at the original price. His rationale: If the Lord was truly calling our family to take Be The Change Youth Initiative on the road, He’ll sell it at that price, on His timetable. (And if we don’t sell it, we’ll have our answer.)

We listed the house on January 25th and our friend scheduled an open house for the next day, which also happened to be the day we left for our yearly trip to Florida. As we pulled out of our driveway, headed to the airport, people we’re pulling into the neighborhood to see our house. I remember the phone starting to vibrate as soon as I placed it in the security bin. Sydney was embarrassingly annoyed, which made me chuckle every time it started to rattle in the plastic container. By the time we made it to our gate, the text count was over ten. Apparently a couple had fallen in love with our house… especially the scripture art all over our walls. (This might not seem like a big deal if you find yourself reading this post from the southern comfort of the Bible Belt. But, in Maine, it’s about as weird as blooming trees in February. It just doesn’t happen.) Then they went downstairs to check out the basement and found all my books from seminary. They immediately came upstairs and pulled our friend aside to ask if my husband was a pastor.

For those who know us… you know how hilarious this is. Um… yeah. No. He is not a pastor. Not even close on his BEST day. (His words, not mine.) Our friend told them that he wasn’t, but that our family was doing God’s work, which was the reason for selling the house. Looking back, and knowing how this all played out, I can only imagine how this looked from their perspective.

By the time we arrived in Florida and had gotten settled for the night, we received an offer from the couple, along with a letter. My husband opened the letter, an explanation of who the buyers were and why they wanted our home. The husband WAS a pastor at a church within walking distance from the property. They had two little girls and another on the way. We had created a home made for their children, including beds built into the walls. He wrote about how they would try their best to live intentionally in the community… something that ministered to my heart. (Leaving that community was the only thing holding me back from this grand adventure.) Even before reading their offer, I knew they belonged in our house. But, it was more than that… I truly felt it was THEIR home. We were just getting it ready for them.

I remember what happened next like it was yesterday. My husband made a joke. Something along the lines of… “Great! These guys are in ministry, which means they have NO money… and you’re going to make me sell it to them anyway… because they’re in ministry!” The three of us laughed, Sydney had joined us for the conversation. We all knew it was the truth. I’m a sucker for people doing the Lord’s work, now more than ever. It’s not for the faint of heart… and it’s not usually filled with people having deep pockets.

In the middle of our laughter, Jamie opened up the offer. His facial expression immediately changed. The words coming from his mouth are not appropriate to repeat. He looked at me, eyes wide, “You’re not going to believe this. They offered us $20,000 MORE than our asking price.” In that moment, all three of us had a different reaction. Sydney looked as if someone slapped her across the face. Her shock was palpable. Jamie just laughed, while I steadied myself against the bed and wept. In that one moment, the Lord made Himself known. We placed the fleece before him, but He did more than answer our prayer. He shut down any doubt we could have possibly clung to.

Here’s a confession: About a year ago, I prayed a simple prayer to the Lord. If He was to call our family, or our children, into music and/ministry, that He would make it clear to my husband… so undeniably clear that any drastic, life-changing decision would come from him and not me. This offer on our house was the Lord’s answer to my prayer, because, almost immediately, my husband texted his supervisor that his time at the Department of Justice was coming to an end.

I remember the moment I told David the Lord might call us to go through all of our money to live out whatever it was He was calling us to. I remember his exasperation. I remember his wife’s encouraging smirk. I remember hearing Sydney upstairs reading a book to his oldest daughter. I remember this uncomfortable silence filling the room. I remember wanting to fill it, but there was nothing else to say. We knew the Lord was calling us to Texas and we were going. And because of what David did next, we were financially able to go.

Maybe it was because he felt sorry for us. Maybe it was because he wanted to encourage us to keep moving forward, even though he knew Sydney’s reluctance to pursue music. Maybe the Lord, in that moment, prompted him to an act of generosity few have ever extended to us. Maybe it was a combination of all three. Regardless, in that moment, he said, “I’m not taking your money. This one’s on me.” And in that moment, we had money to cover our expenses for the next week in Texas. Just like that… the Lord shut the door on any idea that we were making this happen. (And after the following week, and all the “coincidences” the Lord orchestrated, He locked that door with a dozen dead-bolts.)

Long story short, we were scheduled to leave the following morning, arriving in Dallas, and heading straight over to meet with some of the staff at New Horizons. Sydney was speaking to two different groups of children on two different campuses. But, besides that, no other events were planned. Nothing. We were in the state of Texas for a week… ready for whatever the Lord had for us. It sounds crazy, right? And maybe it was financially. But, in our minds, we were giving ourselves the needed space to hear God. Not audibly. He doesn’t speak to us that way. But, one thing we are incredibly confident of… He does speak. And we were ready to listen. (And one of our problems: We have always filled out schedule with our plans… to the point that we really had no room for His plans.)

The first stop was checking out The Village Church in Flower Mound. If you know anything about us, you know our kids have been raised on the teachings of a select few modern-day theologians (Matt Chandler, David Platt, and Francis Chan are on that list…. love them or hate them.) We couldn’t actually come to Dallas and not go to The Village Church. Unfortunately, Mr. Chandler wasn’t there that week, but another young man was: Grant McCurdy. Grant is one of the worship leaders at The Village and has a voice that will stop you in your tracks. When Sydney and I heard him sing for the first time, our heads whipped around to look at one another, each of us with eyes as wide as saucers.

I jokingly suggested to Sydney that she tell him about Be The Change and ask if he had any interest in writing a song. Her response, “Yeah, right. Why would he want to do that?” It was a response we had heard many times before. We were on what would become a long journey of healing old wounds, dealing with past hurts, mostly from adults (who should have known better), who belittled Sydney because of her age, her gender, and her soft-spoken demeanor. But, after walking to the car and engaging in a little internal wrestling, she went back inside to ask him he was interested in working with her on a project and, much to her surprise, he said, “Yes.”

Just like that, the dominoes began to fall. A second co-write in Sugar Land, with the Catholic group Novum, got on the calendar. (The song they wrote will be released under Be The Change Collective next month.) David also connected Sydney with Ryan DeLange, a worship leader out of Houston. On the way to that writing session, we ended up driving past a Make-A-Wish office. We decided to stop by and introduce ourselves and about an hour later, we left signing up to help them raise money to grant a wish for a child in Texas! (We’re currently working to raise money for that wish at this moment.)

We told Ryan about how the Lord just seemed to align everything so perfectly. He and Sydney decided to write a song that honors the parents of wish kids. (That song, The Journey, was released on April 26th and all proceeds go toward our wish granting process.) And then, with approximately 5 hours before our plane was set to take off, we made it back to The Village Church just in time for Grant and Sydney to write Empty Hands (released Jan. 2019). What started out as a week-long trip with almost nothing on the calendar, ended with Sydney writing three songs that would become the foundation for Be The Change Collective… a platform for teens to create music with professional worship artists for the purpose of advocating for others around the world and drawing attention to important issues facing the church.

The Lord was setting everything in motion but there was one remaining domino left to fall.

In March 2018, the song Carry On was recorded at The Creak Studio. It was a crazy day, in a packed studio. In addition to the producers (David, Seth, and Brad) Sydney, and Krissy, the founders of GiveLife.co joined us in the studio, as well as our friend Brit Edwards, who documented the special day with the video below. But, in the excitement of it all, one important thing was forgotten: payment.

When we originally proposed the idea of giving the song away for free, we never thought through the payment for production… specifically WHO would pay for it. After spending the day at the studio, Sydney went to speak to the youth group at David’s church. I began texting back and forth with a few people and it soon became clear that no one had paid for the project. So, I texted David and asked if we could swing by his house after Sydney was done at the church. Thankfully we were prepared to pay for the song… sort of.

While all of this was going on, our family was also in the middle of making a big decision about Be The Change Youth Initiative. By March 2018, we were about 9 months into the creation of the ministry, but really… it was little more than an outlet for Sydney. Granted, she organized a group of kids to grant a wish for a child and helped build a daycare in Haiti. But, we lived in Maine… not exactly known for its bustling Christian community. And getting churches to even CONSIDER having Sydney in to speak to their youth was a huge accomplishment. (Everyone thinks it’s a great idea to talk about the need to encourage kids in their gifts and talents UNTIL it’s a kid who’s offering to do it. The irony isn’t lost on us. We still laugh about it.)

We had a few connections in the Pacific Northwest, Texas, and the Carolinas. So, we thought it might be a good idea to spend some time in those areas, talking to churches and the small support systems we had in place, to see if Be The Change Youth Initiative was meant to be bigger than a hobby. But, there was one problem: We were hemorrhaging money. So, back in January (2018), we made a decision. We would pray and ask the Lord to make it clear if we were to go to any of these areas. We were very specific with the prayer and asked God to give us an answer within 48 hours. We figured traveling straight from Nashville, after recording Carry On, would be the best financial option and prices were starting to go up. (I’m pretty sure the Lord laughs at our time tables!)

About 24 hours after praying for clarity, I received an email from a classmate at Dallas Theological Seminary. After reading my introduction biography and learning about Be The Change Youth Initiative, he wanted to know if we “by any chance ever come to Texas.” He volunteered for a ministry in Dallas, called New Horizons, and was interested in Sydney speaking with the kids in the program. I was on the phone with my husband before finishing the email. After getting through the explanation of everything, my husband’s prolonged silence eventually broke with his simple retort: Well, I guess you guys are going to Texas.

So, why is all of that important?

Because we didn’t have any money to cover the trip. We didn’t even have enough money to cover the recording of Carry On. When Sydney and I went to David’s house, I had to give him two checks: one he could cash right then and there, but the other one would have to wait until the following week. I STILL remember the look on David’s face as I explained the situation to him. He knew we were leaving for Texas for an entire week, but only had one event on our schedule. Somewhat exasperated, he asked, “What are you guys doing?” And then went on to explain that we were going to go through all of our money if we kept going. (Yeah… we knew that.)

I explained the back story, our prayer, our trust in the Lord, and how we knew this was the next step… even if we had no idea what the subsequent steps would be. David went on to tell me that Sydney needed to start doing shows to help offset some of the costs. He told me that All Sons & Daughters did that. (And, I reminded him that Sydney was a 16-year-old kid from Maine that no one has ever heard of. And here’s a confession: Despite many accusations that Jamie and I are really the ones pushing Be The Change and Sydney’s “career” in the music world… it’s not true. Not even close. This is the LAST thing we’ve EVER wanted for her. Last summer, Sydney interned at the recording studio, which ended with Jamie and I having a meeting with David asking what the “next step” would be. He said she needed to move to Nashville. And I told him that I hated him… twice. (I apologized a few weeks later.)

None of us… Jamie, Sydney nor I… wanted to journey down this road. But, when the Lord keeps opening doors and answering prayers, what do you do? Sydney wanted to live in the lie that she wasn’t good enough… a lie she believed because confessed Christians told her so. Jamie and I wanted to protect her heart because the life she was walking into is FILLED with rejection. We could make excuses for her to stay safe and convincingly argue that God will use her where she is. Or, we could teach her to FOLLOW Jesus. We chose the later and the following week CHANGED OUR LIVES FOREVER.