Maximum Mandatum

I want to tell you a story about a small world, a church plant, a weary pastor, a new visitor, and a kind Father who is meticulous in his providence.

According to the Westminster Confession of Faith, Chapter 5, Of Providence, section one, “God the great Creator of all things doth uphold, direct, dispose, and govern all creatures, actions, and things, from the greatest to the least by his most wise and holy providence, according to his infallible knowledge, and the free and immutable counsel of his own will, to the praise of the glory of his wisdom, power, justice, goodness, and mercy.”

Let me begin by acknowledging that New Hampshire is a very small state. We remain one of the top secular, post-Christian, unchurched states in the nation. With a population of 1.4 million and an Evangelical presence less than thirteen percent, the Christian circle is tight-knit and small. When we planted our church two years ago, I had a lot of connections from growing up, even after being in CA for eight years. Much of our initial growth came from family and friends—people who knew me. The second wave of growth came from transplants to NH from around the country. And now growth is mostly from word of mouth and shared convictions that can be discerned from our core values, philosophy of ministry, and established culture.

Don’t get me wrong, church panting is hard. It is relentless, time-consuming, and exhausting. We have grown faster than we anticipated and my elders joke that we are now a real church because we have real problems. My greatest disappointment in church planting so far, though, is not related to the hard work or the people. It’s not even related to the ministry at all. Rather, I miss my mom. My mom was initially a part of our plant. She was actually in our core group and involved in the early stages of planning. For a year before we launched, while still in CA, I held monthly Zoom meetings with potential members where we discussed our vision, distinct philosophy, core convictions, and also spent time getting to know one another and praying for God to go before us. Mom and Dad were a vital part of those meetings from the opposite side of the country.

During my time in CA, Mom and I grew closer than ever before. If you knew about our tattered past, you’d be as surprised as me by her pride in and support of my seminary training, pastoral ministry, and desire to plant a church. She was so excited for me and communicated it often. I was excited to be her pastor and I was thrilled to have her on the team as she had such a natural, God-given gifting for both administration and disciple-making.

She tragically passed away seven months before we launched the church. Her absence has cast a shadow of grief over the family, my idyllic view of NH, and our church plant. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of her and miss her. Some people at church knew her. But as our church has grown, there’s so many people who didn’t know her. How I wish she were here! How I wish every new friend that God has brought into my life could know her! How I wish I could see her sitting in the congregation as I preach! How I wish I had her practical help and her prayer!

Fast forward two-and-a-half years later—two years into the church plant. I have a dear friend who was my boss for a time in CA. He happened to be from NH also, and believe it or not, although we had never met till I moved to CA, we had many mutual friends. Our small circles overlapped. I often joked with him about moving back to NH, an idea that he scoffed at. But in the grand scheme of things, he ended up moving back to NH a year before me, ironically. He got job a at the Veteran Affairs in Manchester. He lived too far away to attend our church, but he and his dear wife came to our launch Sunday in 2022. We stayed in touch from afar.

While working at the VA in Manchester, he built a relationship with a recently retired reservist. This man was a new believer, growing in his understanding of Christ and the Gospel, hungry for deep truth and deep community. My friend texted me and gave me a heads up that he was sending this man to visit our church hoping that I would provide counsel and care in the midst of some trials. He explained, “He’s pursuing Jesus hard.” He also warned me, “I hyped you up, so bring the heat.” Gee, thanks for putting the pressure on, like I don’t have enough already.

His friend visited our church the next morning. I met him before the service. He was tall and brawny, yet gentle and personable—not what I expected. I learned that he lived a ways away and commuted an hour to be there that morning. And I noticed as he listened intently to God’s Word proclaimed. We didn’t touch base after the service, but I saw him interacting with others and I heard from my friend that he enjoyed church and would be back.

This man continued to visit church. Throughout the next 11 weeks, he would attend our church about eight times. With each successive visit, he would open up and share a little bit more about himself and what the Lord was doing in his life. Each week, he stayed and talked longer with me following the service. He was very encouraging about the church, the people, and the messages. We finally exchanged numbers.

Finally, on Monday, July 15th, he called me and asked if we could meet for lunch to further discuss the issues of his life and heart. We met for lunch that Wednesday. This was a typical meeting as a pastor. Someone was about to open up and share the details of their life with me. Unaware of exactly what they entailed, I remained somewhat anxious just hoping I could offer him some hope and practical counsel from the Gospel and God’s Word. As we waited to be seated, we shot the breeze. Typical stuff. Where do you live? What do you do? Etc.

I proceeded to as him a series of questions, as I often do, seeking to learn about his life and person to establish context and a personal connection. I knew he was a recently retired reservist and has also recently started a tree-trimming business. I asked him what branches of the military he served in. I asked how many tours he did. I asked him what he did before he started his business. He said he was a firefighter. I asked where he was a firefighter. He said, “North Hampton.” Surprised, I said, “Oh, North Hampton—right next to Joe’s Meat Shoppe!” Somewhat surprised, he responded, “How do you know Joe’s Meat Shoppe.” I said, “Well, it goes the fire station, Joe’s Meat Shoppe, the railroad tracks, a house, and then the big yellow house—221 Atlantic.” I explained that was my grandparents’ house, that growing up we were there all the time playing on the railroad tracks, going to Joe’s Meat Shoppe, even going to Old Home Day bean hole suppers at the fire station. And I told him how my parents recently lived there taking care of my grandfather.

As I was speaking, he grabbed my arm, stopped me, and said, “Peter, I was the EMT who responded to that house. I brought your mother to the hospital the day she died.” Well, needless to say, that was the very last thing I expected to hear and was very much caught off guard. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was shocked, completely thrown off, and my eyes instantly filled with tears. Neither of us, nor our mutual friend, knew of this connection. But God did. As the conversation continued, I filled in more of the details that led up to that morning, shared about the dynamics of my family, and updated him on my dad’s health. We eventually moved the conversation on. After all, we were there for him not for me. We spent the next two hours eating and talking through his hurts rather than mine.

As soon as we left the restaurant and I got into my truck, my phone rang. It was him. He realized we moved on rather quickly from that conversation as I was clearly jarred. He politely asked if he could share some memories, details, and observations from that morning to encourage me. The things he shared were a blessing and a balm. I learned of God’s kindness during my mother’s final hours and the care that she was given. I learned about her peace, calmness, and strength. I said to him, “This whole exchange is amazing! How often do you meet the EMT that responded to a family member?! How often does the EMT get to learn about the life of the individual they cared for in their final moments?!” After the call, I sent him a link to Mom’s memorial service and then I cried all the way home.

When I got home, I think I scared my wife. She knew who I was meeting with, but had no clue. When I walked in the house, I tried to communicate my experience into words, but couldn’t get any words out. I sat just down and wept unable to speak a word, as I did the day I received the shocking news. After five minutes of her staring at me concerned, I retold the whole story to her.

Later that day, I again heard from my friend. He had watched her memorial and responded, “Your mother, Kathy’s memorial was beautiful. Thank you for sharing. I can’t believe I was a tiny part of her journey. She sounds remarkable and had such a beautiful faith!” My greatest disappointment in church planting is that my new friends never knew my mom. And now, this new friend of mine had a real interaction with her two-and-a-half years ago, on her final day on this earth. As he filled in more details of her death, I filled in more details of her life.

This kind of intimate, providential experience was such an unexpected joy and encouragement for this weary pastor. How precious! How wonderful! That God can take a seemingly ordinary interaction and make it an extraordinary, life-changing moment. That God can bring comfort to my soul from someone I hardly know. That God can take two new friends and immediately bond them together in a special way. That God can remind me of his wisdom, power, goodness, and mercy when I least expect it. That God allowed our paths to cross in this divine appointment is a tangible testament to the Father’s meticulous providence and unexpected kindness. This kind of unanticipated gift leaves a lasting impression. It’s one of those rare moments when you’re reminded that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I’m thankful that Mom’s life is still impacting people in the world today. God is always up to something good as she often reminded me. The light of her life is still lingering and breaking into this dark world.

“Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! . . . For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen” (Romans 11:33, 36).

My new friend continues to come to church and continues to grow. He calls me almost every week. He has become a great encouragement to me. What an unexpected blessing that God would provide comfort to me through this new visitor, my brother, my friend.

You can watch my mother’s memorial as this LINK.