I Wore A Blue Shirt

That’s a serious understatement.

It might leave you, reader, thinking that I wore a blue shirt today, or recently, or that it is merely the beginning of a statement of my sartorial choice for a particularly momentous occasion, or a notably embarrassing one. Much of that would be true, because I wore a blue shirt nearly everyday.

I was a musician, whose wardrobe had consisted primarily of v-neck t-shirts, who found himself on staff at one of the largest Presbyterian churches in the country. So, I invested in maybe a dozen button-ups in various colors. Often, I would sweat through those shirts somewhere during the day, especially it seemed, when I had to lead anything from the front on Sundays, before a few thousand people.

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It feels like I have been on stage my whole life.

I have hardly ever felt nervous on one. I rarely felt aware of any anxiety when I served in these capacities either, but after a significant number of ruined shirts, I made my next choices carefully…

Most of my friends in the business world seemed to wear blue oxfords, and I had one that I liked, so I went full “Steve Jobs” with it. I just didn’t want to make a decision about what to wear for work ever again. I wore a blue oxford almost every workday from that point on. On Sunday mornings I would usually wait until the last moment to put the shirt on to try to keep it in ok shape! (I’m not sure how well that worked, though thankfully we may have solved the puzzle ((Was it nerves? Hyperhidrosis? Either way, it may finally be under control thanks to my researcher wife!))

The ol’ blues took a break during the first months of Covid. Afterward, I was so happy to be back in the swing of things again, that I commemorated them in a social media post! I later moved to a new place and my singular style choice came with me.

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On December 17th of this past year, I tossed them in a pile in my closet.

Some of you would know that last fall was one of the hardest seasons of my life. God has convicted me not to talk about the details publicly, but instead to just try to focus on what I believe he has called me to, and be faithful in the small things in this season.

What I will tell you is that some of it hurt quite a bit. The events led to I think a wise decision made together with elders and key staff to bring that ministry to a close.

We agreed together as well with other elders of congregations here in town that I could move forward with a small core team, completely renaming/rebranding and essentially planting a new church. So, that has been my work for the last seven months. If you’ve read past blogs, you’ve seen some updates about this team, and work, and the ways that God has met us along the way.

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But the blue shirts weren’t there for any of it.

I wore other things- new things, old things, things I didn’t even like, but there was not a single moment of starched, light blue oxford.

I wasn’t mad at the shirts. It wasn’t their fault, you know. It wasn’t that picking them up filled me with angst or grief or anything like that. I think the word is, “meh.”

Maybe tomorrow… or tomorrow’s tomorrow.

December is a photograph in my mind. It feels in many ways like it was just yesterday. And yet, the last seven months also feel like they are absolutely, over-flowingly full of a different life. Much of that was disorienting. Some of it was profoundly discouraging. Of course, losing my mom then felt like a sort of tidal wave of new experiences and challenges on top of that. A lot of my memory of spring and early summer feels blurry, at this point.

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We just about walked away from it all this summer.

I just could not fathom the ramp up of energy that seemed necessary to plant a church. I enlisted family, friends, mentors, and my counselor to speak into it and pray with us.

I mentioned already that God has shown up in this season again and again, and given glimmers of hope, and reminders of his care. And he did yet again. As we prayed and discussed, he renewed our vision for this work and spoke through the sweet community of people around us.

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We are not alone.

And my shoulders are not the ones carrying God’s church.

And so, we move forward.¹

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I don’t know if I’ll go back to the daily blues.

I do really love not having to make a decision about what to wear each day, but at this point it sort of feels like they were for someone else.

I did finally wash them this week, though. And I’ll probably iron them this weekend. And I assume I’ll wear one here and there, relatively soon.

Life goes on. We move forward. It won’t look exactly the same, and it doesn’t need to, but it’s not entirely different, and that’s not bad either. I do not find myself very concerned about whatever I wear, or wherever I serve, or how successful I may be or not according to the typical standards, only (as I read in my time in God’s word this morning) that in every way… Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice.

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Please keep praying with us that Christ would be proclaimed in the unique way and the unique people God has for us (and of course that this might be the case for all the churches in our city)!

Please drop a line if you are interested in helping or supporting our work as well.

1. I’ll note that this is not just stuffing the hurt and soldiering on. The grief and tears are still present and important to acknowledge, and this does all make me quite a bit “slower.” While that slowness has felt like a disadvantage to the work of church planting, I am beginning to think that it may in fact be a bit of blessing in disguise.

If you find yourself in a situation like ours and encountering deep pain, it might not be smart to keep going. I would not be moving forward without hearing from wise counsel, helping me to see the challenges clearly, and think about the situation soberly. Nor could I do this without a team and context that actually make this perhaps the wisest thing to do right now.

All that to say, I and we are not some sort of ministry superstars, that others should necessarily emulate in this regard. We are just people who find ourselves in this situation with a God who has cared for us in particular ways that make this a possibility.