In my heart
Written by Melinda Hurley
But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.
Luke 2:19
It’s Sunday morning. I’ve corralled most of my crew to church and the ones who can drive themselves will be here soon. I take my place in whichever pew Shawn has randomly decided to sit in this week. I’m a creature of habit, but he loves to change it up. It’s warm in this beautiful ark-framed church, but not too hot thanks to the breeze of the fan on the side aisle. As we worship together in response to a sermon that feels more like Jesus speaking directly to each one of us, the tears begin to fall. I used to fight it, but now I just let them roll down my cheeks and I’ll deal with them later. My son (it could be any one of the three) inevitably cuts his eyes at me and cocks his head with a grin. He knows I’m ok, to just let me be, or if I’m lucky, I get a side hug.
Three years ago, I believed I had cried all the tears there were to cry. It was happening; the church that raised us was sending us out. The dreams Shawn and I had grown up planning were shattered so quickly that it almost felt impossible, like we were watching a bad movie. How on earth were we going to leave RHCC? Who would teach us how to plant a church? Would anyone come with us?
For years, I sat in my chair in the corner of our living room with my Bible open and a list of RHCC church leaders. I added names brought to mind and prayed individually and specifically for each. There were hopes and dreams of what that church might become one day should Shawn ever be entrusted to lead it. I prayed diligently that God would bring back the feeling of family that I remembered from years ago. I prayed that there would be depth of relationship, discipleship, and community that had crumbled. I knew God wanted the same thing for our church. What I didn’t know was how He was going to make it happen.
I didn’t know that there would be so much sorrow and grief for our family and so many others as we left RHCC. I didn’t know how much longer I could prop up my husband because he no longer resembled the man I knew. Would he ever recover? Who would he look like after such a traumatic experience? What would our relationship be like? How would our family look and feel on the other side of this? Would our kids hate church forever?
On our last Sunday, we stood on the stage in the big tent. I held my daughter’s hand and watched my husband say goodbye to our forever dream. That memory will always be etched on my heart, but I also remember feeling lighter and tentatively full of faith. I knew God called us away in the only possible way the Hurleys would leave RHCC. As we walked off the stage, I knew we were stepping out in faith with dear friends and family. What I didn’t know is that through the process of experiencing faith with trauma, tears, grief, and sadness, we could also experience peace, joy, kindness, and the birth of a beautiful church called Coastline.
There are too many details of God’s faithfulness in the miracle of Coastline to share in one advent devotional, but I’m sure Mary would have said the same thing about each ordained and miraculous detail of Jesus' birth. I’m looking forward to hearing her version and details of the story in Heaven one day. For now, I know what it’s like to hold the details of a miracle in my heart and ponder them when I worship alongside all of you each week.
Most every Sunday, it is each of you that reminds me of the miracle of this church that came to be only a few Advents ago. Every prayer in my journal was birthed instantly by God alone. You are all reminders that God has a plan and wants the very best for His children, but most importantly for His church to point to Him.
Every baby dedication, every hand raised in worship, every person going up to receive prayer, every Advent candle lit…all of you, my Coastline family, are a miracle to me.
I hold each of you in my heart.
Three years ago, I believed I had cried all the tears there were to cry. It was happening; the church that raised us was sending us out. The dreams Shawn and I had grown up planning were shattered so quickly that it almost felt impossible, like we were watching a bad movie. How on earth were we going to leave RHCC? Who would teach us how to plant a church? Would anyone come with us?
For years, I sat in my chair in the corner of our living room with my Bible open and a list of RHCC church leaders. I added names brought to mind and prayed individually and specifically for each. There were hopes and dreams of what that church might become one day should Shawn ever be entrusted to lead it. I prayed diligently that God would bring back the feeling of family that I remembered from years ago. I prayed that there would be depth of relationship, discipleship, and community that had crumbled. I knew God wanted the same thing for our church. What I didn’t know was how He was going to make it happen.
I didn’t know that there would be so much sorrow and grief for our family and so many others as we left RHCC. I didn’t know how much longer I could prop up my husband because he no longer resembled the man I knew. Would he ever recover? Who would he look like after such a traumatic experience? What would our relationship be like? How would our family look and feel on the other side of this? Would our kids hate church forever?
On our last Sunday, we stood on the stage in the big tent. I held my daughter’s hand and watched my husband say goodbye to our forever dream. That memory will always be etched on my heart, but I also remember feeling lighter and tentatively full of faith. I knew God called us away in the only possible way the Hurleys would leave RHCC. As we walked off the stage, I knew we were stepping out in faith with dear friends and family. What I didn’t know is that through the process of experiencing faith with trauma, tears, grief, and sadness, we could also experience peace, joy, kindness, and the birth of a beautiful church called Coastline.
There are too many details of God’s faithfulness in the miracle of Coastline to share in one advent devotional, but I’m sure Mary would have said the same thing about each ordained and miraculous detail of Jesus' birth. I’m looking forward to hearing her version and details of the story in Heaven one day. For now, I know what it’s like to hold the details of a miracle in my heart and ponder them when I worship alongside all of you each week.
Most every Sunday, it is each of you that reminds me of the miracle of this church that came to be only a few Advents ago. Every prayer in my journal was birthed instantly by God alone. You are all reminders that God has a plan and wants the very best for His children, but most importantly for His church to point to Him.
Every baby dedication, every hand raised in worship, every person going up to receive prayer, every Advent candle lit…all of you, my Coastline family, are a miracle to me.
I hold each of you in my heart.
Reflective Question for the Day
Looking back, when have you held the details of a miracle in your heart
–even if you might not have realized it at the time?
How have these details bolstered your faith?
Melinda Hurley still gets a little nervous before every wedding she does, even though she has planned well over 60 of them by now. She loves to cheer on her husband and four kids, and anyone else who needs a little encouragement. When she has a spare moment (ha…. If she had a spare moment….) she loves to spend it roller skating, stand up paddling, or reading a novel.