A cup of black tea and a tent made of wool

Many people have asked about my departure from normal church, and while the story is not a juicy as a nervous breakdown or a moral failure, it is a good one so here you go...

About seven years ago I went to Turkey with a team of folks from the church where I served as a teaching pastor. We went to try and figure out what we might do to help believers in that beautiful country. We traveled the countryside as tourists and set up semi-secret meetings along the way with in-country missionaries (disguised as seed salesmen) and Christian Turks (who were being systematically persecuted). During our time there we had the privilege of experiencing the beautiful landscape and culture that was the stage for most of New Testament history.

While traveling, I was reading a biography of Paul and literally walking in his footsteps. In the more rural areas I noticed small black structures dotting the hillsides; they were tents made of woven, black goathair stretched over a wooden frame. I was told by our guide that these were identical to the ones the Apostle Paul used to make; hence the term "tent-making."

One afternoon I was sitting in one of these tents outside the ruins of Ephesus, drinking a cup of strong, black, Turkish tea when I struck me; Paul's ministry began when he left the "Professional" religious world of the Pharisees and followed God's leading into the Gentile culture. It was a decision that would require him to make tents for the rest of his life as a means to pay his bills. That income gave him the freedom to travel and plant churches. I was captivated by that insight and began to sense that maybe my calling was similar. Now let me be clear, in no way do I consider myself as gifted as the apostle Paul! But there was something about this caffeine induced epiphany (Turkish tea will do that to you!) that struck a chord in my soul.

This was the beginning-of-the-end for me as a professional religious person.

I returned to the states and resumed my work as a pastor in a large, evangelical church in Colorado Springs, but things would never be the same. Within a year of my return I was abruptly fired by the manager of the church staff for not generating enough in terms of numbers; my job was to close the back door of the church through which we were losing more people than were coming in the front door. I sucked at that, and got fired for it. Painful as the experience was, I would have to say it was the best thing that could have happened to me.

The event started me on a long journey into a wilderness where I'm still wandering today. I'm now a "tent-maker." And it's not a temporary gig until my church gets big enough to support me. I'm learning how (after getting an MDiv and spending more than 20 years as a religious professional) to make a living in the marketplace. I'm happy to do this because it allows me to live in a community I care about and serve people I deeply love.

My friends back in conventional churches treat me with a mix of pity and disdain; I think some feel sorry for me that I "failed" while others judge me for turning my back on the church. At this point, I'm not sure that any of them really understand.

So I press on.

I'm the proud owner of a small business; my "tent-making" skills led me to open a performance training gym for high school and college athletes.

And I'm trying to figure out how to lead a small, simple community of folks who like this nomadic lifestyle as much as I do.

And as far as I can tell I'll be making tents for the rest of my days.