When people hear “church plant,” they usually picture a launch day — a room, a band, a first Sunday. What they don’t picture is the year before it, which is mostly conversations that go nowhere in particular and a lot of listening.
That’s where we are right now. This residency year isn’t a countdown to something; it’s the actual work. Learning the town. Learning the people already doing good here. Learning what I don’t know, which turns out to be most of it.
You can’t plant something in ground you haven’t walked.
What the first month actually looked like
Coffee, mostly. Sitting with a mentor pastor who has planted twice and failed once, and who is unusually honest about the second part. Reading through Acts slowly enough that it stopped being familiar. Sitting in on other churches’ midweek gatherings and noticing what made people relax.
- Meet ten people a week, and don’t pitch anything.
- Write down every question I can’t answer yet.
- Say no to anything that’s mainly about looking ready.
None of that is impressive, and that’s sort of the point. If the church we plant only works because it looked good early, it won’t hold when it stops looking good.
Why we’re not rushing
We could gather a crowd in Fuquay this fall. I’m fairly sure of that, and it’s the most tempting thing on the table. But a crowd isn’t a church, and getting people in a room is a different skill from helping them stay when it’s hard.
So: 2027. Slower than I’d like, faster than it feels. In the meantime I’ll keep writing these — the honest version, including the parts I’d rather edit out.
