A letter

Archive for November, 2017|Monthly archive page


In Bloomfield, Year 3 on November 12, 2017 at 12:14 am

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Today is November 11th. Or, 11/11. That might not be significant to many people, but as you know, it is about as significant a number as any number ever will be for us. Of all the times it’s been significant, this yearor I should say a year ago today— it marked something that changed our lives forever.

Funny to think it was just like any other day in our life: crazy, chaotic. Big surprise. Me at our school co-op, David at his early morning men’s group. And then a simple question at the end of a conversation that would send us on this insane journey. “I just don’t understand why you don’t have your own church.” Little did David know these words would haunt him and spark our dream back to life. That dream we didn’t really think about anymore. That one we had almost forgotten about. But the one that God had not forgotten at all.

I’ll never forget David’s phone call that day—where I was, the smell of the building, me trying to walk Goldie to sleep in the hallnone of it. It’s branded in my mind forever. I just knew that after three years of almost bleeding out in this crazy land of NYC, that the spark we felt was not natural, it didn’t make sense, but was undeniably God.

Those next four days are also days that I will never forget. The string of mind-blowing confirmations and happenings were almost eerie. You can’t make this stuff up.

After that conversation, we were spinning. We couldn’t think or be productive, so David came home early from work and we headed upstate. Our usual: drive, talk, dream, plan. Earlier in the day I had sent David a screen shot of an opening show at a friend’s gallery I wanted to attend. In one of our many conversations that day I asked if he had seen my text. Upon looking at it again, he realized that across the photo I sent were the numbers 11:11. Goosebumps, chills.

You remember back in Wally, that 11:11 was our number? It was the birthplace of “The Rising.” It was God’s intent, His bringing things that seemed dead back to life. It was John 11:11. It was who Jesus is—was in that season of life for us. It was a number we saw everywhere, a constant reminder of what He was doing and what He could do. And then we moved, started law school and didn’t see or hear anything for what felt like a lifetime.

Fast forward five years later. It’s 11:11 and God is speaking again, reminding us that our dream was not dead, but sleeping, and He’s bringing it back to life.

We were almost ready to head out on our drive that day, and I realized I forgot something for Goldie. As I was upstairs, Leon piped up from the back seat. “Hey, dad, do you ever wonder if you’re supposed to do anything else big with your life?” “Like what, buddy?” “I don’t know, something else big? Do you ever wonder if you’re supposed to be a pastor again?”

I’m not sure anything could have spoken louder to us. David wondered if I had said something to the boys. Was God actually already confirming to us what he had sparked earlier that day through our own 7-year-old son? Without a doubt. I had not said a word in ear-shot of the boys. Heaven was shouting, loudly. We were listening.

A bit later in our drive, David turned to me and said, “Babe, today is eleven-eleven. It’s November 11th. Again, goosebumps—chills. God was writing it in the sky for us. Obviously. That day our lives changed forever. He’s writing such an incredible story. One laced with miracles. One so much bigger than anything we could think up on our own. One more life-giving than anything we could imagine. One more fun than we could ever dream up. It is unfolding daily. I know I’ve told you bits and pieces along the way. And someday soon I’ll tell you the rest of story. But for now I had to tell you one thing— DREAM. Dream. You should allow Him to dust off the pages of things forgotten. Dream again. Because I know this: His best is yet to come. And it’s beyond our wildest imaginations.

Love you,


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