It’s been five months since we said yes to God.

Since then, every week, our home fills—literally fills—with people hungry for Jesus.
Sixty souls crowd onto couches, pull up mismatched chairs, and settle cross-legged on the floor. And in the middle of all that closeness, something sacred keeps happening.

Tears fall—soft, honest, heart-shifting tears.
Dreams are spoken out loud for the very first time.
Hope stretches its arms wide again because faith suddenly feels alive and real.

Somehow, this very ordinary space has turned holy. Not because it looks perfect. Not because the plan is flawless. But because it’s full. Full of hearts leaning in. Full of people discovering God in ways that leave us breathless. Full of the kind of vulnerability that sounds like repentance whispered in the hallway and freedom rising in the soul.

Dreams get shared on the back porch.
Prayers are whispered in corners of the house.
Laughter and wonder mingle in the air like they’ve been waiting for a moment just like this.

Somewhere between the cluttered kitchen counters and the couch that can’t possibly hold another person, God keeps meeting us. And it is unmistakable.

We didn’t plan this when we said yes to church planting.
We couldn’t have orchestrated it.
But God—He knew.

It’s tempting to wait for the perfect room, the perfect moment, the perfect conditions. But God doesn’t work in perfection. He works in yes.
He works in courage.
He works in two hands showing up willing, even when everything feels too small or too ordinary to matter.

And now? We’re watching Him multiply it all. We’re watching Him turn our simple obedience into a movement we never saw coming. This truly is an “exceedingly abundant” season. He is doing more than we asked, more than we dreamed—and we’re just trying to be faithful stewards while it becomes something far bigger than us.

The Kingdom is advancing right here in our home.
And it is wild.
It is humbling.
It is miraculous.

I keep looking around at the people God has gathered for this specific church planting mission, and just marveling. The woman whose prayers feel like holy ground for me. The friends whose courage ignites new hope in me. The leaders rising up right before our eyes. God is moving—and the evidence is everywhere. The ordinary has become extraordinary. People are healing. Hope is being restored. Hearts are awakening. I could go on and on..

But through all of it, God keeps whispering the same truth: Even your small, fumbling obedience is part of My beautiful story.

Maybe that’s what you need today—a reminder that your ordinary matters. That the small beginnings you’re stewarding are seen. That your “yes” is a spark. That your prayers are seeds. That your courage is doing more than you think… shaping lives in ways you may never witness but heaven never overlooks.

So here’s to living rooms where God shows up.
To hands holding hope bigger than we feel ready for.
To kitchens where courage quietly grows.

Here’s to you—for saying yes, showing up, trusting God to do more than you could imagine.

We’re so inadequate for what He’s asking. And yet… we stand in awe. Because in Him, every ordinary moment carries the weight of eternity.

We’re in it for the long haul. And we’re profoundly and wildly gratful that He called us.
Let’s keep going.