I've Been through the Desert on a [Church] with No Name

I’ve been wanting to post something on here about the church plant of which I am a part. What has kept me from writing is an inability to give words to what excites me about this process.

The current associate pastor of my church has been moved to plant another church in a different part of our town. This summer, he invited me to join the plant and to coordinate its women’s ministries. At first, I was simply excited about the possibility of growing a women’s ministry from the ground up. Now my excitement is for the whole project. As my pastor has shared his vision with a group of us (the launch team) and as we’ve read articles and surveyed people in the community, I’ve become really eager to see this church get going. But why?

The church has no name. We’ve got some ideas, but no clear favorite. The church has no address. We’ve got some locations, but nothing is decided. Still, every Wednesday night, a group of people gets together to plan, to dream and to pray. It’s given me a picture of what the Church really is.

I grew up in a Philadelphia neighborhood where I could walk to a number of churches—old churches, established churches. It never occurred to me to ask how they got their names. And their buildings were old, stone things with steeples and pews. But someone built them. Being a part of this church plant has given me an appreciation for the magnitude of starting a church; of taking an old warehouse and making it a place of worship, of taking an idea and making it a name.

Most importantly, I’m seeing that a church is more than its name or address. The people are the church. Every Wednesday that we meet, I am growing to love the people in the room more and more. I can’t wait to be part of a church that bears the mark of our Creator, as well as of these passionate, creative people.