Living Between Two States

"You don't know what you can miss until you miss it. But if you never leave, you'll never know." — Kida, Atlantis: The Lost Empire

As I've shared before, a huge part of my life over the last five years has been ministry.

My husband and I are co-lead pastors in a small town in Wyoming. And when I say small, I mean small. The kind of place where people know your name, your kids' names, and probably what you had for dinner last Tuesday.

We've loved every minute of serving here. We've celebrated victories and walked through heartbreak. We've watched lives transformed and sat with families in their darkest moments. We've laughed, cried, prayed, planned, dreamed, and occasionally wondered if the church building was determined to keep us humble.

Over the years I've become a semi-professional plumber, leak detector, budget planner, event coordinator, counselor, and baby rocker. I've watched my husband baptize people whose lives were completely changed by Jesus. I've stood beside grieving families and helped officiate funerals for lives gone far too soon.

We've planned Easter egg hunts, prayed over backpacks before the school year started, organized community events, attended countless meetings, and loved every person God entrusted to our care.

And through it all, we've learned something unique about ministry.

As a dear friend once told me, ministry requires you to put down roots while simultaneously being willing to leave at a moment's notice.

You invest deeply.

You love wholeheartedly.

You plant yourself fully.

And yet you always keep your hands open because ultimately, your life belongs to God.

If I'm being honest, the story of Florida didn't begin in January. It probably started months before that. Maybe even years. Back in 2018, we planted a church called The Well. Those two years taught us more than we could ever put into words. 

We learned how to think outside the box because, frankly, that's how God wired us.

We learned how to minister beyond the four walls of a church building.

We became the hands and feet of Jesus for people who would never have walked through church doors on their own. At one point, Josh was literally doing marriage counseling in the middle of a park during a Pokémon tournament. 

That's just who we are. We believe ministry happens wherever people are. Then life shifted.

My husband became sick, and ministry had to move to the back burner for a season. There were hard lessons in that year.

Lessons about surrender.

Lessons about trusting God when the plan changes.

Lessons about resting when we'd rather keep moving.

Eventually, God led us back into ministry and ultimately to where we are today. And now, looking back, we can see His fingerprints all over the journey.

Every season was preparation.

Every victory.

Every disappointment.

Every sacrifice.

Every unexpected detour.

God was teaching us. Teaching us how to lead our family.

How to lead a church.

How to trust Him.

How to obey quickly.

How to struggle well.

How to live a life completely surrendered to His plans instead of our own.

Then came January.

What was supposed to be a three-day fast turned into nearly an entire month of prayer, fasting, listening, and seeking God's direction.

We prayed over our church.

We prayed over our family.

We prayed over our community.

We prayed for breakthrough.

We prayed for chains to be broken.

We prayed for God to move.

And in the middle of all that praying, God spoke. He gave us our next assignment.

Plant a church.

So we began praying about where. Little by little, God narrowed our focus until eventually we landed on one place.

Florida.

A place I once swore I'd never move back to. God has a funny sense of humor sometimes.

Do we know exactly what this next chapter looks like?

Not even a little.

Do we have all the answers?

Nope.

Do we already have a built-in church family waiting for us?

Not yet.

What we do have is a calling. And sometimes that's enough.

When God first gave us this assignment, we assumed we had a couple more years before anything would happen. We thought we'd have plenty of time. Plenty of planning. Plenty of preparation.

Instead, God began closing doors we thought would remain open. And when He closes enough doors, eventually you're left staring at the one He intends for you to walk through.

So here we are.

Living between Wyoming and Florida. Living between what has been and what will be. Living in the tension of loving where we are while preparing for where God is sending us.

It's exciting.

It's terrifying.

It's bittersweet.

And it's exactly where God has us.

So welcome to Florida Fridays. This isn't just going to be about Florida.

It's going to be about living in the middle of transition.

The middle of uncertainty.

The middle of obedience.

The middle of trusting God before you can see the whole picture.

We'll talk about the practical side of moving, church planting, and chasing a dream that feels bigger than us. But we'll also talk about what it means to trust God when the map isn't fully drawn. Because right now, we're learning what it looks like to live in two places at once. And maybe some of you are too.