Our Farm Story, Poplar Farm Est. 2016

Standing there in the chapel, that has seen the Industrial Revolution and rebuilding of the South, in the middle of a song I realize I've left the roast on the stove set too high. Urgh. I grab the keys and run home and half an hour later I'm sitting there again listening to the end of the message. Not long in length, the sermons at this Anglican church are like taking a small bite of the best food that you savor for the rest of the week.

The priests in this chapel are women and men, but today it's the lead priest speaking and I smile as I sit down because we always have to concentrate to hear what he's saying because he mumbles sometimes. And we love it.

He spoke of the evil of "any means to an end" in our culture. "Even in ministry you will find this to be practiced." he shared with his head down. He reminded us that Christ was tempted by the Adversary with power, notoriety and broad reaching impact. He talked about the fact that our founding father, George Washington, had the Latin phrase that says "The end justifies the means." across his coat of arms. 

This idolatry of self and selfish goals is everywhere. "And it seems okay in the church, right? Because it's all for God, right? No - this is never okay, never." he told us before he lead us to a time of repentance. But before he did he said, "I struggle with this evil desire too. I want to be a famous author, a sought out speaker in the Christian world and I want to see this church grow...this evil is in all of us. It was so strong in me years ago that I cannot even remember what my newborn daughter looked like...but I can remember every detail of the face of the architect who I was working with to build our first chapel. Any means to an end is not okay."

I'm still not used to priests confessing their sins in public, but it's common in this small part of the Bride. It's common and refreshing and challenging too. Thank you, Jesus...yes, any means to an end is never okay. Please forgive us all, we don't know what we're doing.

The first time we visited Mission Chattanooga we'd not been to church since we'd left the one we had served at for over eight years. More than nine months had gone by as we gathered to share a weekly meal with others who had left our church and others in our area. We needed the break - we needed to step outside of the building to see what in the world.

It was our last day in Tennessee that spring break of 2016. We'd come up, one more time, to look for land and honestly, we didn't think we'd find what we'd been hoping to find since we started looking online in Mongolia those three years earlier. 

And we were right, we found nothing - everything we did find was perfect except for the shooting range you could hear a block away, or the city dump just around the corner, or the fact that it would need major excavation...nothing turned up and we were headed back west to pack up our lives and come back to what we did not know here in Tennessee.

Before we'd left for our trip, the Lawman had found this collective of chapels here in Chattanooga and another piece of land he wanted to look at while online. He was particularly intrigued by the fact that the staff in this network worked in the market place part time. We'd seen the chasm of disconnect between staff and pastors and the people they served as their week was spent in a workplace that was well insulated from what the majority of the people in the church experienced every day. You invite and encourage and pastor differently when you are walking the same trail as the ones you're caring for, that's for sure. You could sense that among the leaders here, could sense that they were humbly walking the trail outside the building along with you.

So when we sat down in the restored industrial building space, that functions as a coffee shop during the week and meeting space for the chapel on Sunday, we quickly stood back up as they carried the cross down the aisle. All of the ancient practices were new to us, but oddly familiar in spirit. We both cried our way through the service and we still do most Sundays. 

The abbot spoke that morning. He is the priest over all the other priests in the mission and he'd written a poem about how he had achieved all of his goals in ministry, worked long hours and kept going to see the kingdom advanced and at the end it was all nothing. All of his striving and all of his hard work left him empty even as chapel after chapel was planted around this dear city.

Sitting there with tears streaming down our face we literally could not believe what he was saying. He was telling our story, but from a vocational rather than laity viewpoint. We left there overwhelmed with the humility in the room. Someone who had achieved his kingdom dreams/vision standing before everyone, soul naked, and telling them that nothing was worth seeking and gaining your own empire, even in the name of Jesus?? Whew...

The abbot didn't have all the answers about moving forward, but he did know that the way he had been living was not God glorifying and he was taking steps to change. Seeing a counselor, having others around him hold him accountable to change...that's all people need to hear to be your biggest supporters - you don't have it all together, here's why (admission of sins) and show tangible ways that you're taking steps to change. An admission of desire to be seen and heard by thousands and then the humility to say it was empty once it happened...this meant more to us than he would ever know.

Grabbing a bite of lunch after the service we got back in the car to check out one more piece of land a whole hour and a half in the other direction than we had been looking for the past two years. It was our one last shot at finding a place to land before we moved that summer. As we drove up the Old Copper Rd we didn't have a lot to say because we were taking in the beauty of the Cherokee National Forest. The Ocoee river snaking it's way down the mountains would be filled with kayaks and rafts later that summer, but for now she was quietly making her way to the lake below.

A dear friend of mine, Jen Vaughn, had been praying for us vigilantly and often as she battled chronic illness. She and I had such similar childhood journeys of faith that we know the triggers and the joys and the pains. She'd left me a message a few days earlier saying, "Hey, girl...been praying for you and hearing 'homeland' and seeing these yellow bushes everywhere when I pray. He's got you." That may sound weird to a lot of folks - hearing and seeing things when you pray, but to me it's the way I'm wired and so is Jen. Maybe it's our shared Native American roots, but how He speaks to her is familiar to how He speaks to me. 

She knew up close our journey and she knew that she was holding faith for me because I'd lost almost all of it. So when I said, "Thanks, friend..." she knew that it was all I could say ~ there was nothing left to offer hope or anticipation. All I had left was sheer will as I climbed this mountain of my faith on my knees with my hands open to receive what He had for me.

We made our way through an old town that sounded like something familiar from my childhood. Still trying to place myself on the map, fifteen minutes later we were turning off onto a country road. It was early spring and not much was blooming, but driving down this winding country road I started seeing forsythia, yellow flowering bushes, everywhere ; but even then I didn't think much of it. 

Rounding the bend we saw the car of the realtor we'd not yet met. We got out and began making our way up the hill of the property. Turning around we stood there stunned. It was everything, literally everything, we had ever wanted. The creeks, the open the land, the woods the view of the valley with the mountains behind it...everything.




We told the realtor that yes, we wanted to make an offer. He suggested we drive around the corner to meet the owner. Of course, we had most of our kids with us so I hopped out to meet the owner real quick before getting back into the car to wait while the Lawman talked. 

"Hi! We love your land, it's just so beautiful. I think my mom's people are from around here somewhere, but in North Carolina...a little town called Liberty I think??" He shook his head and said, "That's about five minutes east of here, what's your family's name?" I told him their name and within a few minutes we realized that we were distant cousins. I didn't know what to say, should I tell him the whole story or should I keep it to myself? I decided I wouldn't overwhelmed him with God telling my friend to tell me about forsythia and homeland. But making my way back to the car I walked in silent awe.

Homeland. 

There is absolutely no cell service out at the farm and I hope there never will be, but as soon as we came back down the mountain Jen was the first person I text. "Girlllllllllllllll...you wont' believe this." I shared with her how forsythia were blooming everywhere and that we would be buying land from my cousin. I told her how you could see Pack mountain, where my great great grandmother Texanna Pack had been born and raised, from the top of the hill.

Homeland.

That day still sits in my soul as one of the most divine of my life. It was the beginning of a story that had been planted in my heart since my childhood. A longing for home, a homeland and a place with roots. The Lawman - well, he's the one who has partnered with the Maker to make my dreams come true in this life and I am deeply grateful to him. He lives in a sacrificial way like our Groom and I'm overwhelmed with the reflection of Him in my man. 

We'll both still tell anyone asking that "We're from Texas." But the truth is that this farm, this sacred place is Home. Home for us and home for those weary of the journey too. 

If you ever feel like giving up, I completely understand. It's a scary place to be, but it's also really beautiful. Being in the dark valleys can feel like the one in the Bible called the Valley of Death. And sometimes things die there. But like Jen says, "When you get to the mountain top ~ girllllll, the valley is so beautiful...so very beautiful."

You'll always have a place to call home as long as we're here in Appalachia...just give us a call to let us know you're coming. You are welcome by this rowdy, Jesus loving clan...welcome Home.