The following is a note previously published on Facebook. It is about 2 families I had to say goodbye to awhile back, and the process of releasing them. If you're ever in Bend, Oregon look up Epikos Church or Bend UpCycle and go say hello. They are some of the friendliest (and in one case, craziest) people you'll ever meet.

Learning to Let go (Lessons from the Bend Team)

They say there are 5 stages of grief:

1) Denial

2) Anger

3) Bargaining

4) Depression

5) Acceptance

As the team headed to Bend prepares to leave, my stages have gone more like this:

1) Shock

2) Anger

3) Deep sadness

4)Denial

I'm hoping to stay in denial a few more years, and be pleasantly surprised whenever we have visitors.

I grew up in a small town in Alaska where it was normal for people to come and go. Alaska is the land of adventure where many people come for a few years, only to move on when the sense of adventure (or jobs) dries up. Most Seniors in high school go away to college or move "Down South"--a healthy alternative and rite of passage to today's overprotected generation whose parents insist they go to school in their hometown and can't endure empty nest syndrome long enough to let their newly adult children grow wings of their own.

As a kid, I learned to say goodbye a lot. College was no different. I made some of the deepest (and most playful) friendships of my life, only for us all to be scattered 4 years later, rarely together since.

But nothing really prepared me for the Harris's announcement. Oh, I had heard things over the years, and had noticed their frequent out-of-town invitations to speak. But none of it phased me, because I knew God would never let them leave. City Harvest needed them too much.

Like Bob and Sue, their touch reached everyone. Somehow, even with 6 near-perfect kids to raise, they found time to come alongside us, and speak a quick word. One of encouragement, one of faith, one of great belief in who we are, and who we are destined to become. They chose to coach by affirmation, and I soaked it up, since its my love language. In a big church where everyone is serving, they SAW me, even in the little moments and breathed "MORE, MORE" in every interaction.

So when Pastor Bob started to make THE announcement, and my eyes took in the front row, with every single Harris having their own seat (That never happens), I realized with all of you what was happening. And I wept.

By the end of the service, I was angry. And disillusioned. Why would God take THIS family from us? Hadn't He taken enough? I arrived at CHC right about the time J.O. and Raydean were leaving, but I didn't know them well enough to grieve. Next to go were Matt and Lisa, our "original" members and a couple I never thought would go. We felt the pain of one of Bob's arms being cut off and the adjustments as new arms were grown and the body was strengthened again. The next wave was 3-fold as we bid the Horns, Gallis, and Harveys farewell. I remember in that season coming across a post by Casey saying goodbye to Access. I misunderstood and thought he and Brandy were leaving too, and though I didn't know them well at the time, started to cry. I hadn't realized how much the goodbyes were affecting me.

But nothing prepared me for the Harris announcement. I remember praying over them months before at a joint house church meeting. God gave me the word "NO LIMITS," but I immediately qualified, "That doesn't mean you have to go start a church." They evidently didn't listen to that part.

When Andy and Keri announced a few weeks after the Harris's (over FACEBOOK no less), I wasn't surprised and was already grieving them. Keri would often start sentences with, "If Phil and Shanda ever go start a church and we go with them . . ." It took 4 kids to remind them what the rest of us had always known. There are certain relationships that are called and yoked in covenant and God honors that.

In fairness to Andy, he DID tell our house church first. 5 minutes before the world knew. Via Facebook. Facebook. Maybe it was 2 minutes. Had you been at that first house church after their announcement, you would either have thought we hated them, or that we loved them passionately. No one said, "Congratulations!" No one encouraged them in their exciting new phase of life and how the Lord was leading them on a great new adventure. We yelled at them. We mocked them. We disowned them. We calmed down and heard their passionate retelling of how their CHILDREN heard from the Lord and how confirmation after confirmation came. Then we yelled at the children, and mocked them and disowned them. We weren't ready. We still aren't honestly.

Andy's modus operandi is something like this. 1st week new person comes: HI! Welcome to house church! We're going to put you in the middle and pray over you. 2nd week: Hey! So glad you came back. You're giving a word tonight. You have 5 minutes to find a Bible verse and prepare something. What's that? You've never held a Bible before? That's ok---here's mine. God will help you. Just go do it. I used to hide in closets. You don't hide in closets do you? No? Great you'll do fine!"

(After working behind the scenes a bit, I now know the conversation Andy and Keri had 5 minutes before everyone walked in.)

Andy: What are we going to do tonight?

Keri: I don't know . . .let's do the egg game.

Andy: No, we just did that 2 weeks ago. People will remember.

Keri: They might not.

Andy: Oh, I know. I'll just assign all of our new people to give a word.

Keri: How many new people are coming tonight?

Andy: Only 8. Slow night . . .

Keri works a little faster than Andy. Upon seeing a new person at church: Hi, I'm Keri. You ARE coming to our house church. It's already decided. By the way, I have this party in December . . .what's your name again?

As August approached, I waited for the deep grief of impending loss to abate. I WANTED to be happy for Phil and Shanda. I wanted to be happy for Andy and Keri. They ARE going off on a great adventure. A city WILL be shaken, God WILL move, and every team member WILL find their place and see their gifts grow in a new day and new annointing. Jesus will be lifted up, people will be saved, and a new story will be written. It's a GOOD thing.

But the joy didn't come. Then the Lord reminded me of how action can sometimes shift emotions. So I started collecting boxes for Phil and Shanda. These cardboard things which will ultimately help carry them further away. Yet as I have determined to serve them (in a small small way), the emotions have begun to shift. I've found myself praying for them, for Bend, for a people I don't know crying out for fresh bread. I spent time with their daughters and imagined them growing up with parents who held nothing back, running after the full call of God on their lives, jumping off cliffs in faith, expecting God to catch them, lives lived without limits. I saw the daughters leading worship, prophesying, witnessing, and building the Kingdom of God---not someday, but in a few months. I've lived long enough to know the need can pull it out of all of us, even as children. They will be part of the great adventure of faith and destiny that we are all called to.

I haven't reached the final stage of grief yet: ACCEPTANCE. Where you let go and release the people you love to their calling. Maybe by August. Or maybe the first time I get to visit Epikos and Keri finally cooks me the pie she owes me.

One thing I know. I will always be grateful to Andy and Keri for believing in me in the NOW and not waiting until the NOT YET to put me to work. And like Phil and Shanda, I will always seek to SEE people in their big and small moments in the Kingdom and prophesy MORE! MOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRE! into their spirits. Even if it's not Tuesday. :-)

Epikos Church

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