Ch. 2, Pt. 1: Tossed around by the Waves of Expectations
Thanti Nguyen
“I did NOT hear the audible voice of God,” I noted to myself, lest the moment grow supernatural inside my head. It was just a regular night at work.
I was standing outside the kiosk of my “Guest Services” job at an outdoor shopping center, curious to observe how “YouNite: a night of Christian concerts” would play out. The sun was on its way down for the day when the first church band got on stage and started playing their rehearsed Christian-radio songs, which were being amplified throughout the mall’s speaker system. They announced which church they represented in all their “outreachy”-eagerness, and I looked around at the faces of my fellow kiosk workers - some selling snow cones, others phone cases, jewelry, hotdogs, or pretzels - calculating the day’s earnings, wondering just how early they might be able to lock up. I couldn’t help but wonder what they thought about these church groups and the songs they were singing…if anything. Their faces were expressionless, sweaty, tired, aloof.
I took in the scene as if from above and saw what seemed like a stark division of “insiders” and “outsiders.” The “insiders” were the ones who understood the church-y lingo and un-self-consciously sang along to the songs. And the “outsiders” were the ones who didn’t see themselves “fitting into” church (for a conglomerate of reasons).
I was struck by the disconnect: The Christians-on-stage were speaking and singing upbeat, spiritual words into the void like an incantation, waiting for the “magic” to work. They didn’t seem to notice that they were on our turf. They were the strangers and their music was strange - peripheral background noise to my coworkers’ worries and regular routines.
The Christians-on-stage had no connection to the people in their audience: those in abusive relationships, seeking an advance on their paycheck, relying on unreliable transportation, estranged from their children, or struggling to learn English late in life. The Christians-on-stage didn’t know one thing about the people they were singing to — how could they? Why would they? The details of our lives were irrelevant to their “set.”
I did NOT hear the voice of God while standing in between the two worlds of Christians-on-stage and kiosk workers, but I DID have a clarifying realization that felt like a revelation. If this is an us vs. them situation - insiders vs. outsiders - my loyalty lies with the outsiders.
Rewind…
I don’t remember who spoke the idea into existence, but someone did, and the idea grew legs and took on a life of its own. It was the idea that Gabe and I could start a church immediately after college graduation.
Church planting was something we’d expected to do since we became ministerial students years prior (in a church plant). So, the idea itself wasn’t new…we only questioned the timing. But we came to believe that God was setting things up for us and we were called to “walk in faith.”
We were almost educated with Bachelor’s degrees, after all. We had volunteered together in a handful of church start-ups. Gabe was leading a church-planting club on campus. Other “doors” for internships and jobs had closed, but this one had remained mysteriously open — all signs seemed to be pointing us toward it. We had a lot of peers and respected leaders supporting us too, which served as further confirmation.
Never mind that we were still on our parent's health insurance plans, had no credit whatsoever, had no place to live after graduation...we were going to grab life by the proverbial horns! Besides, aren’t Faith and Love all you really need? ;-)
I thought that in choosing this risky path, I would be doing something world-changing with my life! I thought this “walk of faith” into the unknown would force me to become the best version of myself: the fully selfless, fearless, God-focused, hell storming, holy version. I hoped that, finally, I would be able to prove to God that I trusted him wholeheartedly, and make him proud.
So, I swallowed my fears and surrendered to the process.
A Church for the Outsiders
At the time of surveying the scene of “insiders” and “outsiders” at the Christian mall concert, we had already committed ourselves to the path of church planting. We were at the stage of praying: “God, give us a vision for your church.”
I may not have heard an audible voice that night, but I remember feeling like a vision had awakened in my heart - that ours would be “a church for the outsiders.” We wrote this into our “New Start Action Plan” and our initial fundraising letters. We started telling our college friends about it in the hope that some might consider moving to Tampa with us to start what we began calling “Overflow Church.” And, to our delight, two wonderful couples joined the team. Woooo!
So, we got married in August.
Moved into our first house in October.
Celebrated our first Christmas together with the team in December.
Then started a church in January.
No big deal.
Well, we started to start a church in January (2013). As it turns out, there are several phases to these things. And (spoiler alert) none of these phases actually led to the establishment of a church.
The Waves of Expectations
We were tossed around by the waves of expectations – a mixture of externally imposed and our own.
At the time, a particular model of church planting was popular: one with a CEO-style pastor, attractive branding to pitch financial supporters, and a step-by-step strategic plan along a “runway” to “launch” a worship service for a specific “target audience.” Butts in seats, baptisms, and becoming financially sustaining were the ultimate indicators of success!
We internalized the PRESSURE and URGENCY of this, but we also pushed back with some questions: What if that’s not “us”? What if “a church for the outsiders” requires something else — something more casual, personal, relational, organic? A longer “runway”? A team-leadership model? Alternative methods and metrics? A different “scorecard”? Defining success in new ways?
The more questions we asked, the more we felt caught in-between what church planting was “supposed to” be and our own intuitions.
It was becoming clear that we did not fit the “launch large,” “attractional,” “church-as-business” model, but we also did not have words to express WHY. We were working it out in real-time: constantly revising our plan based on the diverse group of people we were meeting and the uneasy feelings we were feeling about the prevalent church-planting tactics (which we often perceived as manipulative, coercive, ingenuine, irrelevant, or awkward).
But, without experience, wisdom, or like-minded leaders to look to, we struggled to trust our instincts.
Caught Between Worlds
We were part of a church planting network created for collaboration, but more often it presented us opportunities for comparison. Hearing reports about other church’s “programs” and “progress” left us feeling misunderstood, invalidated, alone – ironically, like outsiders. We tried to wear our divergence like a badge of honor, but having to explain ourselves to network pastors, coaches, and donors became an energy-draining burden.
Like being caught between the two worlds of “Christians-on-stage” and “kiosk workers,” we oscillated between a “performance” of ministry and the meaningful relationships we wanted to build.
One time, for example, we hand-delivered 1,300 fliers to advertise an Overflow informational event in the community that NO ONE showed up to – total FLOP! The only silver lining was the ability to report “we tried this,” and the (earned) freedom to NEVER have to do it again!
Despite our best efforts, we couldn’t figure out how to prove our legitimacy AND stay true to our vision and values. Anytime something felt “right” to us, it carried a connotation of “wrong” to someone else. There was no winning.
A Means to an End
We talked about church being a people, not a place. We met in homes. No one was a full-time, “career” pastor (nor did we introduce ourselves that way). Instead, we wore a variety of hats, working multiple jobs — trying to resemble the church of the first century. We resonated with books like The Tangible Kingdom and Small is Big, Slow is Fast. At our height, our group ranged from 12-20 people and was fueled by sharing meals together (potluck or “stone soup” style), deep conversations between Christians and non-Christians, creating a culture of belonging wherever we could, being available to partner with our neighbors and coworkers on projects, and pooling resources to give toward someone’s car repairs or groceries. In our hearts, this felt right. This felt like church.
But, we were trained to think of it as a means to an end, not the end itself. It didn’t “count” as church. Church required something more official and quantitative — measurable results! More butts, baptisms, and dolla dolla bills…when we *only* had qualitative growth to report.
Pause: I am immensely proud of this now (now that I know enough to confidently decry the lack of QUALITATIVE growth in the American church, with such little value given to the development of Christ-like habits, presence, or witness)! Quantitative is what’s celebrated and incentivized in the church “industry.” And yet, it is often deceptive, illusory, meaningless — producing consumer “Christians,” bad theology, narcissistic leaders, and spiritual abuse. But that’s a conversation for another day.
Wave after Crushing Wave
In an effort to marry our idealism with reality, our theories with praxis, we kept asking relevant questions. We kept trying to get to the bottom of being/making disciples and the essence of Church. Asking…
How did “Good News” show up in Jesus’ posture, and tangibly impact the people who knew him?
What set his disciples apart from other disciples?
What was the Biblical impetus for the formation of a new church?
What kind of things did the apostles “measure” to determine the “success” of a church?
How many of our modern ideas about church would have been FOREIGN to, if not OPPOSITE of, the early church? — constructed from the world of business, marketing, entrepreneurship, consumerist culture, etc.
We obsessively and systematically deconstructed all things evangelism, discipleship, and church. And while none of our “re-constructed” ideas helped us catch a wave of “momentum,” having to re-think and re-adjust our plans again and again developed IN US a valuable resiliency!
It was a necessary wave-wrestling! Time-consuming, but not fruitless – despite how it felt most days. I know I wouldn’t be who I am today without this painfully slow learning process.
We were becoming the right kind of people, even if we weren’t producing the “right” kind of outcomes.
But, enduring wave after crushing wave over the course of three years, meant the sting of saltwater up the nose and fatigue from treading water was setting in…
The waves of expectations were drowning us.
