He went on about maintaining buildings, managing facilities, handling mundane tasks… Basically, he patted me on the head for being so idealistic.

I didn’t say anything in response. But I remember thinking to myself:

That’s not the conclusion I would have drawn.

For me, ministry was never about those things. Now though, I can respect those who endure the practical workload — maintaining buildings, handling logistics — to serve others’ spiritual needs. But I also believed ministry can be lighter, freer, and more connected to the essence of the calling rather than the weight of its structures.

I’ve always been doing the work. Quietly. No title. No formal context. Answering DM’s from people who asked thoughtful questions. Answering the phone to those wrestling dark thoughts. Encouraging the discouraged. Crying together when words didn’t matter.

I gave my time, my attention, and my support. And that was it.

You could make a decent case that the mundane logistics of life were inevitable. I wasn’t managing a building, but I was managing all kinds of other practical responsibilities. In the end, perhaps that other minister was speaking the truth more than I realized.

It wasn’t that I chose a superior mission. I simply had a different path to travel. It allowed me to stumble through my own development with relative anonymity. I didn’t have to face a congregation and explain every time my perspective shifted. I didn’t have the comforts of predictable pay, or a dedicated parking space, but I had the comfort of freedom to grow in any direction. A solitary spiritual life isn’t all tribulation.

Lately, as I reflected on my journey, I began to see a new path emerging. As a single parent, it is significant that my kids are old enough for me to pivot vocationally. I knew that patching my income together from my part-time training business and other projects was not a permanent plan. I’ve been working on The WellBeing Project for years, assuming that would be my next chapter. But I felt conflicted about launching it and I couldn’t explain why.

It hadn’t really occurred to me that I could do what I truly love: teach and pastor. I took it for granted that that was not possible if I wasn’t part of an institution. Lately though, I’ve found it impossible to deny that there is a need I want to address directly.

It’s an exciting time to be alive. But it’s a time of incredible uncertainty. More and more people find themselves unable to participate in organized religion. Like me, there are thousands of people who didn’t leave because they lacked a sincere faith. They left because their convictions and questions outgrew the status quo.

Covenant of Grace isn’t a new institution. It’s a touchpoint for finding and supporting one another when there is no institution.

The vision isn’t to build a structure, create a campus, or draw a crowd to one location. It’s to provide connection and support for those who reside outside the traditional structures.

In my home, it looks like a meal. Because that's what it is. A time to gather and connect in the way humans have always enjoyed most - over food. Beyond that, the aim is to help others create local gatherings that fit their needs. And to fill in the geographical gaps with remote gatherings. It is to foster and affirm a culture where spiritual needs are recognized and met. Yet to keep the focus on promoting each individual’s intuitive quest, rather than teaching systematic theology and corporate confessions of faith.

I’m not saying that theology is useless. I’m not saying confessions of faith are all wrong. I’m saying this isn’t where you find them.

Many of the people who left the institutions were the ones teaching and leading. They aren’t unfamiliar or uninterested. They simply outgrew those as a final destination. They’ve left civilized religious society for the frontier. They are pioneering a new life of faith in uncertainty. That’s not heresy. That’s humility. And it is a portal to the Mystery.

If any of this sounds like you. I invite you to connect — locally here in Asheville, or remotely. If you’ve been wondering if you should start some spiritual community, I’ll throw my vote at YES YOU SHOULD. If you’re conflicted, that’s usually a good sign that you’ve got the right intentions.

I truly believe that there has never been a more important time to put aside our individual comfort and offer ourselves to one another in friendship and community. And so, I’ll start. Who else is in?