Thank you for 20 years!!!  (2019)


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Homegrown Depot Blog

The Woeful Bear
Apr 09, 2020
The Woeful Bear

There were three animals who came to the rescue of a bear. He had been going to the river to catch his dinner and had tripped on a root, breaking his leg, and throwing him into a painful roll where he incurred more injuries. As he lay there he lamented out loud, “Oh! and now I shall starve! From mighty to worthless!” 

A bird was hopping by and showed his broken wing to the bear. “Do not despair giant. I am unable to fly but I still hunt. Grubs are my meal for this time while my wing grows strong again. I know what it means to be hungry. 

The bear took a small amount of courage from the words of the bird with the broken wing and began crawling toward a log. He was able to overturn it and found many grubs and, for a time was sustained and strengthened. It was not long however before he grew despondent again. 

“Oh. I shall never taste the sweetness of salmon again. I am a shadow of myself, crawling and groveling from dead stump to dead stump. I was the king. Now I crawl like a crippled bird.”

A badger came up from her den and regarded the condition of the bear. After a time she said, “Cousin, I understand that for a time you forfeit the thing you love the most. I too, must go underground for months during the winters. I desire the meals I basked in during the high weeks of summer. For a time, I rely on my memories of the goodness. I know that winter is not the end. It is only a season.”

The bear took heart again from the thought that he was merely enduring a season. He would once again be reunited with the thing he loved most. He continued to gain strength each day, but soon he was in despair again. “Oh, that I were strong enough to climb a tree and harvest the honey from the bee’s hive. Life is not worth the struggle without honey.”

A squirrel was at the very moment passing the limb with the honey hive attached. “Bear! Have hope. You only have to ask, and I can be your claws and strength.” And with that statement the squirrel pushed the hive from its high place to the ground. The hive broke open at the feet of the bear spilling all of its rich sweet gold. The bear relished the honey. 

In time he developed a relationship with the birds, squirrels and badgers. He soon was basking in the cold waters of the river.

He had learned lessons that he never forgot. He learned to be sustained by grubs, because they were the gift of the bird. He rested in caves waiting for spring, but appreciated even those hungry days in reminiscent anticipation. This was the gift of the badger. He learned that sweetness was a gift from the squirrel who became his claws and strength at each hive. Although these friends had been strangers to him, his crisis brought him into a new relationship with each, who understood his plight in different way.

God understands our plight.

1 Chronicles 28:9 says exactly this.
"And you, my son Solomon, acknowledge the God of your father, and serve him with wholehearted devotion and with a willing mind, for the LORD searches every heart and understands every desire and every thought. If you seek him, he will be found by you; but if you forsake him, he will reject you forever. 
Christ understands our suffering. The Father understands our loss. The Spirit understands our hearts. Three parts of the Godhead each with a slightly different perspective on these days. We pray to a God who understands.

Homegrown Depot Blog

Drywall Buckets
Jul 12, 2019
His name was Lance. He was one of two students that showed up at the first prayer breakfast for Crossroads Farm. It wasn’t much of a breakfast.
I had forgotten that the house we were meeting in was under renovation. It was the farm house on the property where Crossroads Farm South-Central now operates. I had to arrive at 5:30, and using my flashlight, worked my way to the generators sitting outside, I fired one up and began to string the extension cords together in a winding snake-route through the downstairs and up the steps to the second story. I plugged the construction lamp into the cord and there was light. A power strip allowed us to power a toaster. I arranged the drywall buckets in a semi-circle around the toaster which I had perched on a ladder rung. Toaster Strudels and orange juice comprised the first monthly prayer event.
Lance and Noelle, praying for God to show this start-up ministry, favor.
That was 20 years ago. 
Tonight I sat on the stoop of our home, the same place where that first prayer breakfast took places. I was getting ready to take a walk with my wife and a red SUV pulled into the driveway, stopped and a family piled out. It was Lance, Christie and his boys. They were standing in the home of those prayers over 20 years ago. A death in the family had brought Lance back to us. We walked through the Shed, a million dollar dream and prayer 20 years before. Lance and Christie beamed. Dawn and I did as well. 
We talked about that prayer breakfast so many years ago. We introduced Lance to the new space, the Milking Parlor, The Gamer’s Mow, The Barnyard, and he smiled. We explained that since the first prayer breakfast over 6000 students had heard the gospel here. A few times I caught all of the adults wiping tears away.  We prayed for each other and then they were back in the family ride and gone. It wasn’t much of a breakfast, but it was an incredible prayer.
Today I took two messages from leaders across the country. I gave the tour to a couple that is interested in considering a ministry launch in another region. We get to do this about twice a month. Inevitably, everyone wants to know what the secret is to launching a rural ministry. I think I have my answer.
You need to find a few drywall buckets. Fill them with students who are willing to ask God for something impossible. Stay at the plow until you can show them the answer to their prayer. Let them know that they began a legacy. 
Yep. We need more buckets.

Homegrown Depot Blog

Why Rural?
Mar 20, 2018

Why Rural?

I read an article a little while ago.

Well, actually I have read a few more than the one. This particular article was written to express that rural ministry is worth it. I wondered what the “it” was. Time? Money? Manpower? Prayers? The premise of the article I’m sure was to bring to light a need in a community that most have forgotten about. It reminded me of a conversation I had a few months prior. A Christian leader talked about how the concept of rural ministry was likely to become a new trend. I had to digest that for a little while.

In the end, I was a bit offended by both the article and the statement.

For the fifty-eight to sixty-two million people (equivalent to the number of residents living in Great Britain) living in rural communities, we already knew that we were worth ministry. Frankly, we are not sure that we want to become a ministry trend. Those seem to last for a handful of years. You see, when we determined that God had placed a call on our lives, it was only a matter of where he would send us. Somehow, in our cultural evaluation of whether a ministry is valuable, we have forgotten that God does not evaluate the worth of ministry based on population or location.

Jesus went out of his way to a well in order to encounter one woman of eternal worth. God transposed Phillip from what amounted to a revival in Jerusalem in order to win one Ethiopian official on a road through a desert. For our God, ministry to the one lost sheep has always been something he does.

This phase of our ministry development has been exciting. It has allowed us to meet and share love stories with leaders, pastors, and students from rural communities. Whether it is a fifty year old with memories of the days when men went to work in the mines, thirty-two year olds who recall the day that the crop was bumper, the eighty-three year old that remembers when the football team went to state, or the sixteen year old that can’t wait for the county fair in the fall, these are stories of love. The smell of the combine dust, the vision of the sunset over the herd of whitetail, the sounds of the stands filled with cheering classmates are tales that resonate more deeply than a sonnet.

There is plenty of nostalgia here. Maybe there is more than in most suburban places. After all, families have names on road signs and class pictures filling school hallways. These rural places are home. They are valuable. They are filled with history and hope.

You see, whenever you take the time to hear the stories, some tragic and some wry, you see the value of the ministry. It happens when a shepherd falls more in love with Jesus. The shepherd begins to chase the sheep into the hills, women of ill-repute to out-of-the-way wells, and Ethiopians to the edge of deserts. It is always worth whatever cost the love demands.

I can’t wait to hear the end of the story.

Philippians 1:3-6

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.



Homegrown Depot Blog

Falling In Love On Christmas Day
Dec 14, 2017

I have always wondered if love affairs that start around the special calendar dates don’t have an extra sprinkle of magic dust? Each year, as that day rolls past, they have a reminder of a unique positive memory. There are gifts exchanged, cards given, meals shared and decorations: Oh, the decorations! Everywhere you turn, there is a poster-ized moment from the past.

My wife and I celebrate our engagement each year on December 21st. In my mind, it is a bit more magical than our actual wedding. I think that this may be because I felt that there was an element of surprise. A few days before Christmas, Dawn and I sealed our fate together with a date, flowers and a very special gift. In just a few days, Dawn and I will dress up and stir the magic again. I have always been a romantic fan of Christmas. I find myself excited and apprehensive at the same time as I prepare for the annual celebratory night.

We take relational liberties on Christmas. We give extravagant gifts. We eat extraordinary meals. We sit in the fireplace glow late into the night. We listen to sirening string sections place themselves into our favorite carols and into our emotions. We find romantic meaning in a blanket of snow. Crisp air fills our lungs with eagerness to be with family and friends… If we engage it.

I know lots of “Scrooges”. Something has soured them to the experience that for most, was magic. Life takes some pretty hard shots at us on those special days.

A few years ago, I was called to sit beside a family that was losing their son… on Christmas day. Each year, I am sure that the day has a bittersweet tang to it. Grandkids relish the day around them but the back of their hearts holds an empty space.

Maybe that is how you find this holiday. Can I spark the days to come with a magic thought? One day, very soon, we will be able to celebrate the birth of this Christ Child of Christmas together. We have the opportunity to pour lavish gifts on the child while we take liberty in our expressions of love. After all, that Christmas will last for all time.

Tonight, two of my daughters are coming home for the holidays. It gives us another chance to fall in love over a very special day.

My Christmas prayer for you and yours is that you are able to stir the magic that God gave to us a couple of thousand years ago when he celebrated with the extravagance of an angelic announcement. Fall in love with Jesus again.


Homegrown Depot Blog

How’d A Nice Couple Like Us End Up On A Farm Like This?
Oct 26, 2017

I was sharing funeral duties with the former pastor of one of our partnered rural churches. I liked him but had always felt a bit of a distance between us. He explained that gap to me while we were at a funeral.

He said, “I came to this community wounded. I was looking for a place to hide while I healed. This was that place. We both came from large and successful church ministries in the same city. We arrived at the same time and I thought, “Why is this guy coming here?”

It’s a fair question.

I’m not sure if he was trying to come up with scenarios that could have caused me to end up in a rural community. Perhaps I was a member of the witness protection program? Maybe I was on the lamb from law enforcement? Absconding? Hiding? Fleeing? Most of the options seem a bit dark.

There is a one-word answer to his question, but I’m afraid it’ll take a bit of a back-story to understand it. The word is one that we don’t use very often anymore, but I believe that it is the key to staying. Staying allows us access to the “power of the stay,” a phrase we use to encourage a long-term vision for any ministry that I find myself in. It is a word that carries weight and meaning. It lends that meaning to the place where I serve. The word is “Call.”

Call is the word that changes intent into action. Call is the word that drives us through the uncharted waters of doubt, wilderness and struggle. Call is what one out of every ten who believe that they need to head overseas as missionaries, has. It is what nine out of ten lacks.

The back-story to our call to rural America takes a little longer.

I served on a staff at a large church in a college town. I had been there for somewhere between six and seven years. Trinity Church in East Lansing, Michigan (Go Sparty!) had grown under some pretty dynamic leadership. Services ran in the thousands each week and youth ministry saw hundreds of students. I had job offers almost every month in youth ministry meccas like Colorado, Atlanta, California and the East coast.

The team was made up of the most talented people I had ever worked with. Our Lead Pastor, Emerson Eggerichs, (Love and Respect) had the ability to present a couple of “AHA” moments each sermon. Worship, Children’s Ministry, and Care Ministries were fantastic, and the church grew. We had just built a 15 million dollar facility that included a multi-million dollar youth wing. The youth wing offices were glass encased, beside a coffee bar, billiards room, and gym. The worship room had an adjacent prayer chapel and was equipped with SOTA tech.  It was fully staffed with committed youth workers and the volunteer teams had grown to a significant size and incredible effectiveness. I was in Youth ministry Shangri La.

And I left.

My wife, Dawn, grew up in the rural community that we now live in. She grew up living a few miles away from both sets of grandparents, cousins and extended family. I was from Detroit (metro) by way of Canada. I had ministered in Miami, Detroit, and East Lansing. I was a city guy. She was a country girl. I was used to moving to new towns but staying in the same place in traffic. She was used to staying in the same town but moving fast with no traffic. I came from the land of paisley, wing tips, restaurants, and Professional Hockey. She came from the land of camo, steel toes, picnics, and NASCAR. We met at a camp.

Our first ministry together was at Trinity Church. It was fast-paced and we saw students grow.

In the back of our hearts, in the place that God reserves for the miraculous, we heard a still small voice ask a question. It was, “What about kids who live in the country? Why can’t they have what kids in the city have? Why can’t they meet in groups that have mass appeal too?” So we prayed.

We prayed that God would raise up a youth leader in rural communities like Hillsdale County who would do world class ministry with teenagers.

On a trip to Memphis, Tennessee, where we visited one of my ministry mentors, a man named Don Lonie, we were burdened with the call. Don was well into his 80’s and was no rookie in youth ministry. He had the distinction of speaking to more students in the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s than any other person. I’ll talk about him in a future blog. In Don’s words, “You guys are idiots. Who else do you think is praying, “Lord send me to the middle of nowhere”? Has it dawned on you that you may be the only answer to your own prayer.”

It was stark. It was brash, and it was truth.

On our way back to Lansing both Dawn and I were looking out the windows and we saw an immaculate farm on the right of the highway. We looked at each other and said, “Why not now?”

It was only a matter of weeks before we had committed career suicide and resigned our position.

Need had necessitated a call. Call mandated an action. We were all in. We transitioned out of the ministry in Lansing, put our home on the market, and began to look for a farm that we could use.

It seems that in a world of millennials who are searching for lives that are meaningful, we ought to spend time discussing the case of the call. We have the capability of unleashing the passionate pursuit of new things in a new generation committed to change.



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