THE LOST ART OF RELATIONSHIP
As soon as I expressed interest and mentioned I was a pastor, I was thrust into the volunteer mix right away. They needed a worship leader. So, even though I had just started self-teaching the acoustic guitar, I became a fill-in worship leader. We began to meet and spend time with several people from the church on a regular basis, and I helped to retro-fit the church building along with other key volunteers.
Almost six months into attending there, the senior pastor resigned his position. His leaving threw this little church of about one hundred people into an extremely difficult season. Within one month, the attendance had dropped to twenty to twenty-five people. The church had signed a four-year lease with a lease payment of $4,400/month, and there was no pastor. They were in dire straits.
The district I was credentialed with that oversaw this church plant called me. Here is the kicker. The area director who oversaw this area, Fred Cottriel, had a mutual connection with me. Fred was the uncle of Rick Bloom. Rick had already given him a heads up that I was moving down to that area.
Through that relationship, I was asked if I would be willing to become the senior pastor of this church re-plant of now eighteen people, four of which were my family. There were seventy-five dollars in the church bank account, and even though I had an agreed-upon salary, I would not get paid until the fixed costs were covered with a surplus.
Enter Steve Preston. My first board meeting included Fred Cottriel and three other gentlemen who were the sectional leaders where this church was located. Steve Preston was one of them, and he was the sectional presbyter (main leader) at that time. The first meeting was held at his church in the upstairs offices. That was the first of many meetings I had with Steve.
Steve is very relational, encouraging, and a mentor that I will always be grateful for. We met at breakfast restaurants to talk, build the relationship, and perform business. I walked into the restaurant with a baby stroller, my two-year- old, and a diaper bag; I sat down and tried not to be too distracted.
Steve was incredibly patient, and he genuinely cared. With Tania gone a lot due to dental school, a business that was picking up momentum, my being the primary caregiver to two little girls, and now the senior pastor of a church strug- gling to survive a difficult season, Steve became the one I went just to download stuff. I shared pretty much anything with him.
He heard my frustrations, my hurts, my happy moments, business successes, kid struggles, and everything else you can think of. Over the five-year period, before we moved out of Los Angeles, Steve had become one of the closest friends and confidants someone could have.