The Wet Cement Year– Ministry and the First Year of Marriage
Have I been hiding under a rock somewhere that I missed the part about John Piper taking a leave of absence in 2010? This is not a gossip-prompter by any means. I read an article this morning that flooded me with more respect than I already had for Piper. The premise of the article was that after 40+ years of ministry, John Piper felt the need to devote his undivided attention to his first ministry, his marriage. No scandal. No unfaithfulness. No divorce. Just a garden in need of tending. I would encourage you, especially you ministry couples out there to read the whole article here. Wow. Challenged much?
Interestingly enough, something has crossed my desk this week that involves the potential for a young husband of a very newly married couple to receive a primary church leadership position. I was asked for my thoughts and consideration, and this was my reply:
My position on this thing has been a resounding “Not yet.” Why? I dug into this question this morning and spent some time in Deut 24: 5 “A newly married man must not be drafted into the army or be given any other responsibilities. He must be free to spend one year at home, bringing happiness to the wife he has married.” A disclaimer– I’m pretty sure this verse was spoken in the same breath that forbids eating pork and getting tattoos. And well, I ate bacon for breakfast, if that tells you how much I adhere to Old Testament law. But just because I am free to eat bacon anytime I want, doesn’t change the fact that it is terrible for me. {Go with me on this for a second.}
When Clark and I were first married, we were given some advice for our first year of marriage– otherwise known as the “wet cement” year. There is no better time in a marriage for a new couple to tend to their 1st ministry, their marriage, to establish healthy patterns and priorities in their relationship. If these are not considered carefully, after a while the cement hardens. To try to go back and re-settle the foundation would mean taking a jackhammer to years of patterns established by default rather than carefully thought out values. Therefore, don’t spend any nights apart and avoid making any big changes, particularly in leadership roles, that first year of marriage.
THIS WAS THE SINGLE BEST MARITAL ADVICE WE EVER RECEIVED!!!!!!!!!
We made a commitment to each other that we were going to take some deliberate action to “let our marriage simmer” for the first year. That included not traveling apart {for 2 traveling musicians that meant we had to say no to a number of exciting and lucrative opportunities}, and not making any big unnecessary decisions {i.e. buying a house, making a job move, or having a baby if we could help it}. We didn’t join a small group or put anything else on the plate that wasn’t already there. For heavens sake, we didn’t even move from my dinky little apartment that still smelled like my old roommate’s pet cat, Newman, because we didn’t want to put the stress of moving across town on our brand new union.
And so we simmered.
We said no. A lot. We disappointed a lot of people. We even had one friend {who was responsible for setting us up on our first date} tell us that we were running the risk of spending too much time together. Seriously? He is now divorced which tells you how grateful we were to avoid that piece of advice. About 6 months into our commitment we’re still simmering…. still wreaking of Newman, the cat, when Clark was invited to play for the biggest tour of his career to date. Picture this… Clark is on the phone regretfully declining the offer as I’m using every possible charade gesture I possibly could within his line of sight to say,
“YOU IDIOT!!! DON’T BLOW THIS ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Some loving and submissive wife I was, huh. I knew this was an opportunity of a lifetime and that if he passed it up, something like this might never come along again. I reincarnated right there on the spot and began channeling the spirit of Eve, Jezebel, Delilah and every other home wrecking vixen you could think of. I did everything in my power to get him to reneg on our little “one-year” deal, but no amount of threatening or charades was going to get him to budge! He phoned the band leader back and said, “I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I’ve made a commitment to my wife that we weren’t going to travel apart for the first year.” I could never have anticipated what happened next. He affirmed our decision, and before we knew it, we were BOTH picked up for the tour. Clark and I went on to enjoy 3 rich and rewarding years of ministry, travel, music, and people– and we got to do it TOGETHER. We got to witness things in those first 3 years that we couldn’t have imagined in our wildest dreams.
That “wet-cement” decision is one that we have never looked back on with regret. Not only that, we have scraped the depths of our commitment to one another more than once in this Charlotte chapter of our lives, and we’ve leaned hard on what we learned in those early days. We’ve taken some blows, but we’ve come out stronger and more grateful for each other because of it.
What does this have to do with you? Maybe nothing. I’m not about to stamp a Biblical principle on this or even hint that our personal experience is worth gleaning bupkis, but if you were asking me for my advice, I would advise against stepping into a primary leadership role right now. I know the need is great. I know the prospect is exciting, and I don’t doubt for a second that God has placed a call on your life. But I care more about your primary ministry {your marriage} than anything that you can do for the church. It is much easier to say that and incredibly more difficult to adhere to when you’ve already seen that the needs of a growing church body are great. I suspect the likelihood would be greater for you to look back on this year and celebrate squeezing the goodness out of your first year of marriage for all it is worth than regretting not having a prominent leadership voice.
If you’ve read this far, I applaud you. I don’t usually like to post novels, but this is one that I feel rather passionate about if you couldn’t tell. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this…. especially those of you that are married, older, wise, and of the ministerial persuasion. Those of you that match none of the aforementioned descriptions, I welcome your thoughts too. Let’s learn more about this one together, shall we?
So chew and respond.
–Salina
Memory Lane–Part 1
A few weeks back, Clark and I and a few of the other worship leaders at Center City Church were trying to recall our first memories of corporate worship. At what point in the journey did we begin to identify ourselves as worshippers of God?
Can I get a more difficult question, please?
Sure.
What made you want to become a worship leader?
We’re scheduled to film our responses tonight for the Psalms series at Center City Church. There are few things I hate more than being filmed. Public speaking perhaps. Therefore speaking on film, to me, feels like standing in the middle of a crowd in my underwear. Do I have to?
Today, while I was on my morning run, I started thinking through these questions. What was my first recollection of worship? I can remember one night walking into a church service shortly after my world blew up when Dad was arrested. I was 12 years old, horribly awkward, and completely disoriented having kissed Dad goodbye one morning before he left for work and then seeing him in hand cuffs on the evening news. A rather dark time in my personal history. One night, I found myself alone in a crowded room filled with other awkward teenagers, but the difference between them and me was, they were singing with their hands raised and their eyes closed as if they actually believed the words that were coming out of their mouths. I had never seen or heard anything like it. Interestingly enough, that was the night I met David. And yes, I was at least a head taller then him. Who would have thought almost 20 years later we’d be partnering to plant a church and raising our families .25 miles apart? Only God. I spent the next 6 years with that worshipping community. I was there every time the doors were open. It was my family. My sanity. My sanctuary. People can say all they want to about the charismatic church, and believe me, I have. But one thing I know for sure…something happened in those worship gatherings where I began to experience the presence of God, and before I knew it, I was hooked.
As for becoming a worship leader… I’ll admit, I didn’t submit to that without a fight. One of the worship leaders heard me singing behind him in church one Sunday and next thing I know, I’m on a stage singing a rather pitchy arrangement of Awesome in This Place. I think I was 14. Still awkward. Still taller than David. This same worship leader bought me my first guitar and taught me how to play all of the chords in the key of G. I think I played the same 4 chords until I left for college. Good thing I married a guitar player, right? He soon recruited David too, and shortly after he started leading worship, David and I wrote a song together. My first worship song ever. It was called Arms of Love. David says he doesn’t remember, but I think he’s blocked it out. And for good reason. It was awful. But, I can remember this moment as clear as if it were yesterday. I stood in the back of the room while David was leading worship with the song that we had written. It was during the transparency era, mind you, so there above his head, larger than life, were these lyrics that I had written during my 8th grade history class. Granted, I should have been paying better attention to the reign of King Tut and the 18th dynasty of the Egyptian pharaohs, but instead, I was having this private communion with God that sort of spilled out on paper and next thing I know, it is set to music and hundreds of voices are singing my words… my prayer… my divinely inspired moment…. and I was hooked…again. Before I had even entertained the idea of leading worship, I knew I wanted to write songs that people I would never meet could sing in places where I would never visit.
I’m still working on that.
Lets pause for a quick lunch break– Pre-schoolers and long blog posts don’t often mix.
Today’s menu: hot dogs and corn chips.
–Salina
Limbo
“But the places they used to fit me cannot hold the things I’ve learned. Those roads were closed off to me while my back was turned”– Painting Pictures of Egypt by Sarah Groves
Thanks for letting us take that minor detour through Seoul. The more we thought about it, we simply had to make mention of such an impacting event as it played a huge role in bringing us here to Center City. {If you’d like to catch up on it, the story begins here.}
Where were we?
Ah, yes… 2008. Salem was a month old, and Clark and I were smack dab in the middle of the season of silence awaiting our next ministry assignment. Limbo… it is an emotional torture of sorts, isn’t it? For those of you that are in it or have been through it, you know it isn’t sunning on a beach somewhere drinking mai tai’s. It is the sand in the oyster. To call it a “state of uncertainty” is an understatement.
Limbo: an imaginary place for lost, forgotten, or unwanted persons or things
Now that feels more like it. What do you do when it is no longer optional to return to the former things, and yet future uncertainty is too terrifying to face?
We found our oasis in worship, in song writing, and dreaming about what life would look like for us in a thriving community of faith. Our heart began to echo that of David:
“The one thing I ask of the LORD— the thing I seek most— is to live in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, delighting in the LORD’s perfections and meditating in his Temple.” — Psalm 27:4
We would gush whenever we were given the chance to describe our vision to inspire a worshipping church and foster their unique expression of praise. During one such providential conversation with a man much wiser than us, he asked a simple question. “Do you think you will ever find an existing environment where your vision can be fulfilled, or do you think you’re going to have to create it?
Uh oh…. hot wax in our chest again! The Holy Spirit was urging us to take, yet another leap of faith. We would be moving to Charlotte, NC to partner in planting what is now Center City Church.
Finally! No more limbo! Wait… not so fast.
Things often get worse before they get better…
–Salina
Dance with God
“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent…” Psalm 30:11-12
With questions still looming as to why God would call us away from leading worship, the overwhelming reality of parenthood hit us like a freight train. The first few months of Salem’s life are a blur. He was born into the beginnings of what Clark so accurately described as the “wilderness season”. How long would we roam this season in silence? Vision-less? Living hand to mouth? Despite it all, we felt a sense of peace that could only come from the surety of God’s divine leading. Salem’s name, which means “peaceful”, is our stone of remembrance for this season.
Have you ever followed the voice of God only to have your dreams pureed in a blender of trying circumstance… yet there is an unexplainable peace in the midst of it…. the utter assurance that He has brought you to this place and He will reverse the tragedy somehow?
It was around that time that we met Laura Hunter. She showed up like an angel on our doorstep 2 weeks after Salem was born to talk us down from the rafters of sleep deprivation and postpartum depression. One night, the Lord woke her from her sleep and whispered to her heart with a word for Clark. I’m pretty sure Clark was thinking at that point that God had somehow forgotten about him. We both did. She referenced Psalm 30 and without understanding the impact of three divinely inspired words, she simply said, “Dance with God.”
Neither she nor I knew what it meant, but Clark did. God was releasing him to take the platform once again as a lead worshipper. But this time, with fresh vision and restored wonder, Clark would begin to acknowledge a seed of pastoral leadership planted deep within him that would forever change the way he related to music or ministry.
But nothing felt the same. We weren’t the same. It was inevitably clear that more life change was just around the corner, and I could hear the faint hum of the faith blender growing louder by the minute.
Heaven help us!
–Salina
The Season of Silence
“You shall remember all the way which the Lord your God has led you in the wilderness these forty years, that He might humble you, testing you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not.” Deut. 8:2
“Hindsight is 20/20”– believed to be quoted first by humorist Richard Armour
Isn’t it true, though? Doesn’t life seem more illuminated in hindsight? Looking back over the past 3 years, I can’t believe all that this road has brought us through, but of course it all makes sense now that I’m looking back on it.
It started for us in 2006, freshly married and leading worship together full-time. This particular week we had the incredible privilege of working alongside Voddie Baucham, an inspiring man of faith and a dear friend. While sitting down with him one night, Salina and I both completely rocked by all that God was shaking up in our lives, Voddie spoke directly into my life and told me that he saw a shepherd’s heart in me. I was floored. There are moments in time when God purposefully turns everything you think you know on its head, and you’re forced to depend completely on Him to pick up the pieces and make everything stronger than it was before. This was one of those moments. And when we left leading worship and everything we thought we knew to follow God into what we not so lovingly call “the wilderness season,” we were again faced with our lives being wrecked by the weight of God and His plans.
It was in this time in 2008 that God brought me back to what Voddie said only 2 years prior and began to lead me down the path to really defining this discontentment that was inside me. Why had I become so unhappy with leading worship the way that I was doing it? What was the real purpose behind it—the big picture? What was I missing? The answers to these questions would only come by walking in the wilderness, for it’s when you are still and are really listening that you hear the small still voice of God. It’s when you are so dependent on God for everything that you find He is all you really needed to begin with. God showed me that I had begun to find my identity in the work of my own hands, in music, not in who God said I was. He lovingly began to bring me back to the heart of worship-the revelation of God and salvation through His Son Jesus. And He showed me that I had a great calling to those that walked alongside me in this journey to worship through music—the musicians who felt as though they didn’t fit in any niche. Those were the people that God had called me to, and those were the ones that needed to know God loved them for who they were, not what they could do.
— Clark
What now?
“He asked me if I could find you a job at the hospital and I said, ‘Oh Gee, Forney, as what? Brain surgeon on weekends’.”– Lexi “Where the Heart Is”
Imagine you and your spouse are minding your own business enjoying the fruit of a relatively successful career as private business owners with matching incomes. You’re under budget, over saving, paying cash… practically poster children for Dave Ramsey talk radio. You are dealing with the news that you may not be able to bear children, but you’re hopeful. Overnight, you both lose your jobs without the promise of another. Just as you begin to stomach that reality, you’re made aware that the impossible has, in fact, become possible and you are expecting your first child.
If I told you the exact phrasing I used upon receiving that news, I would hereby disqualify myself from all church work…. permanently.
What now? We were two musicians without a Plan B and now that Plan “baby” was in effect, living in a van and eating junk food wasn’t optional anymore. Even more pressing than the survival question and, of course, was the “what-on-Earth-was-God-thinking” question, was the question, “what was our ministry going to look like now?” Two worship leaders not leading worship– like a watch that doesn’t tell time. What good are we?
Over the course of the next {jobless} nine months, we realized that what we once offered as a joyful service and an act of worship through our music had in so many ways become a job. Gosh, I’m even embarrassed to admit that in print. Its staggering how you can be so passionate about something one minute that the words, “I would actually pay to be able to do this” escape your lips and the next thing you know you’re wondering why the bottled water in the green room isn’t room temp and to your liking. Bear with the exaggeration for a moment. The point is that the wonder had escaped from right under our noses. Once we had “taken away the noise of our songs” our eyes were opened and only then did we begin to grieve the loss.
And then there was him…
Just Act Natural
I have to laugh every time I see this picture…. Clark looks like he’s about to hurt somebody and I look like I’ve got better things to do than loiter around a chain link fence at dusk in a neighborhood with more boarded windows than not, if you know what I mean. What’s even more comical is that I was 6 weeks pregnant with our little “surprise” in this picture. My jeans were unbuttoned because my belly was already starting to grow, and that “too-cool-for-school” look on my face is actually nausea.
Ah…. the glamorous life of a touring musician.
This is a pic from our first recording project, Surveil:: The World is Watching. Clark and I were traveling and leading worship everywhere from Alabama to Asia, therefore making a record felt like a perfectly natural next step.
Funny how God doesn’t act “naturally” in most cases…. in our most cases… yours?
There we were, mid-stride, when one night in early March 2008, Clark and I did a little soul searching and vital Spirit “listening”. Here’s a tip…. don’t ever do that… unless, of course, you have a professional death wish.
“Take away from Me the noise of your songs, For I will not hear the melody of your stringed instruments. But let justice run down like water, and righteousness like a mighty stream.” — Amos 5:23-24
My guess is this is not a popular passage among musicians and for good reason. As much as we wanted to believe that the cultural implications, the literal Hebrew, or perhaps Amos was merely suffering from indigestion or some sort of mental lapse when he wrote this, and therefore it couldn’t possibly apply in our case– the word was clear as day. We felt the urging of the Holy Spirit like hot wax in our chest, and before we knew it, we were canceling bookings and setting fire to our livelihood, our cushy savings account, our reputation, any musical momentum we thought we had built and bonus……
Kids…. we’re gonna have a baby…
{To Be Continued}
— Salina
Church Planters
A little history….
Four years ago while we were in Orlando on a tour stop, Clark and I sat across from our best friend and pastor David (Duke) Docusen in a shopping mall food court as he began to share a dream of us planting a church together with him and his wife. Somewhere between Yankee Candle Co. and Baby Gap, Clark and I agreed that we were the last people on Earth equipped for such a task. No offense {Duke} but I believe we may have even said that anyone who would want us on their church staff clearly needed to have their head examined. We thought we had perhaps seen and heard too much. I believe the phrase “used goods” may have even escaped our lips. See, our story is not unlike many others who have been burned by ministry. Jaded, bitter, confused… throw in a few other choice expletives and we’ve pretty much been there, said that. It took me years and tears later to warm up to the idea of stepping foot in a church again after my first ministry job much less the thought of becoming a church planter. The very phrase, church planter…. gravel in my mouth. Ew.
I think it is worth noting that Clark and I were pre-children in those days. Blissfully ignorant. When we had our first child, Salem, we realized that our sleep-all-day-play-all-night existence was fast losing its romantic charms. We both began to feel the need to plant roots by which our growing family could thrive. For two mobile souls, the answer to “where” was not easily come by. Someone wiser than us posed the reality that Clark and I would not be the only two people raising our children. This got us thinking…a lot. With whom do we share similar values in similar walks of life? Not to mention, when the chips are down, who do you call at 3am to come pray with you while you and your significant other are at a deadlock, utterly spent from a screaming match that has now lasted into the wee hours? {Wait… is that just us?} We flirted with the idea of moving to Charlotte to join forces with the Docusen family…. “do life” as we call it. {That was back when we still thought community was sexy}. Nah! Boston? NYC? Anywhere but the South sounded more appealing. However, the yearning for community was greater than a need for an exotic address.
Fast forward… last April, Clark and I, along with Salem and our half-baked {at the time} Amelia packed up our lives, crossed over the Jordan and moved to Charlotte, North Carolina….
And thus our journey begins…
–Salina
The Sound of Center City 