My senior year of college, I got connected with a group contemplating a church plant in Los Angeles. The idea was fresh and exciting. And I liked the people spearheading the plant. Unfortunately, their plan was to move to L.A. in 2008 or 2009, and I was ready to get out of Searcy. No matter how cool a plan, how cool the people, it wasn’t worth staying at Harding.
After graduation, I knew that Hayley and I were coming back to Wichita, and that we would plug into Central cChurch of Christ – the church at which Hayley grew up and at which I interned the previous summer. I assumed that I would engage in youth ministry (as a sponsor) and Hayley would continue working with children.
That went well for a while, but I honestly had less time, energy and passion for youth ministry than I expected. I also, slowly but surely, lost my connections with the teens – both in terms of personal relationships and the desire to communicate with them as I used to (which usually involved my hitting my head on a chair or acting the fool in some other, equally creative way). I also felt much more drawn to people my own age, people who were turned off by church. Turned off by institutions. Bored by traditions.
People a lot like me.
Then I met Cliff, and as I’ve mentioned before, the combination of Cliff and Velvet Elvis led me down a path of asking, “What’s next for the church?” And obviously, today I’m exploring that through Breathe.
I subscribe to a couple of blogs from current and former, now successful, church planters. I’m impressed with their passion, commitment and thought that goes into every decision. I think their plans are amazing. I sometimes grow jealous of their success.
But I don’t feel a connection to them. I don’t feel like we’re doing the same thing. I don’t feel like I’m a church planter.
So, friends, the question I pose to you today: what makes a person a church planter?