What my daughter taught me about church planting.

Some things are hard to put to words. Like last Thursday night, when as a proud parent I got to hear my 6 year old, who was sporting a mini-me-sized cap and gown, sing with the biggest smile ever, “How great is our God.”

[Deep Breath]

It’s hard to express the moment with words because it is equally hard to put to words the emotions of the day the doctors told us that our first pregnancy was not “viable.” Ultrasounds were pointing to a rare genetic condition that would end her short life before she was even born.

Not compatible with life.

You’re behind the eight ball.

Your wife’s body will naturally terminate the pregnancy.

She won’t make it full-term.

…The picture was grim.

I could write for the rest of my life the many lessons my daughter has taught me and continues to teach me about life, God, and pure relationship. But my thoughts today turn toward church planting because I can’t shake the echoes of our journey through Madeline’s pregnancy with the process of birthing…er, I mean… planting Bloom.

Lesson 1: “It” doesn’t have to be perfect to be loved.

The hum of the Level II ultrasound was creepy, the room was dark. We already knew something was up; we were young, but not that young. Yet, when the doctor started to refer to our baby as “it,” something went off in me. I wanted to fight.

The well-trained doctor may have recognized some deformities, discovered some chronic issues, even confirmed some suspicions, but she did not realize that we were committed to our baby, because she already had a name. Madeline. And the name is perfect.

Yes, we could see the images too. Things were twisted, not the right size, and there were holes in her heart. But she had a name, and we could see her kick and move. And that was enough for us to want to fight for her.

Bloom’s back-story is not perfect, either. In fact, I wonder if any church plant was conceived in a grove of plum trees and rainbows. Bloom was planted in dirt, then covered with manure. The manure of my own internal struggles, fears, and humanity. It was like God putting something beautiful and eternal all over again in an earthen vessel.

Besides, the economy couldn’t be worse, I could have many more years of schooling, and I could’ve maybe made every single person I knew happy if I just did this, that, or the other in the process. We’ve certainly made many mistakes already, and we haven’t even launched yet.

But our dream has a name. Bloom. And the name is perfect.

And it’s worth fighting for through every single challenge that arises. I look at the team that has assembled for this cause, and not a single one of us is perfect. No poster-kids here. We’re just a bunch of loving people who want to live, feel alive, and share life.

Lesson 2: We can’t do this alone.

Madeline’s story doesn’t belong to me. I keep reminding myself of that. It first and foremost belongs to her, because she is the inspiration behind it, fueled by the life of God in her. But the story already belongs to hundreds of others too.

Incredible people like her grandparents. These four oak-like people filled with sweet nougat filling. They prayed when things were pretty darn scary. They held our hands when things got tough. And their story is about legacy, because Madeline belongs to them too.

People like her teachers, these amazing souls who didn’t squelch our desire to believe she could do more than expected. Libby, Ginger, Andi, Chris, Linda, Trina, Kris, Lisa, Darlene, Karen, Grandma D, and Alicia. God bless every one of them. They never went the extra mile for Madeline; instead they grew wings and flew for her.

People like our friends. Dawn & Rodney, Matt & Melissa, Chuck & Joy, and many others who have been there for us throughout the years. See Madeline still has special needs, and yet I’m positive that would come as a surprise to all of our friends because they love her so much they forget that it’s there.

Which gives me hope for Bloom.

I remind myself that the story doesn’t belong to me. It first and foremost belongs to God; it’s wholly His deal. But the story already belongs to many others as well, whose lives inspire it to grow.

Incredible people like my brother Manny, who just a year ago couldn’t stand being around me. Who now calls me almost everyday to tell me he’s wholeheartedly with me on this journey.

People like our fellow pastors, Luke and Amy, who have walked the limb with us every step of the way. They laid everything down for the Bloom story, and for us.

People like our friends. We have too many to mention, but most notably the friends who have encouraged us along the way and those who have joined us on this adventure. All these friends are people who will always see Bloom through love and not performance.

And what’s more, the people who one day will join the Bloom story. We can’t do this without them either, and so I long to meet them, have coffee, and talk about what life can be like when we choose to really live.

Lesson 3: Love wins.

If there is one outstanding characteristic about Madeline, it is that she loves everyone. Her favorite thing to do is greet people, all kinds of people. She loves even when other kids reject her. In fact, she seems more determined to love in those cases.

Madeline is a life coach at age 6; she just doesn’t know it yet.

But last Thursday, as she walked the graduation stage, it hit me. Love is what did this. It is love that inspired the million acts, big and little, by the many who helped her along the way. It is ultimately God’s unyielding love for her that made that graduation day a picture perfect day.

Madeline bloomed.