Bridging The Sacred and The Secular. . .

When people ask me what I do for a living, I often pause to reflect before answering because I do many things that bring me joy.  But I usually start by saying, "I'm a Bishop that's starting a church, The Gathering Place North Shore (GPNS) in Lynn," and also mention, "I'm the Community manager for Lynn's newly launched Unarmed Response Team, Calm."

At first glance, these two roles might seem to exist in entirely different spheres.  However, these two roles are deeply intertwined for me.  Lynn, a vibrant city of ~100,000 residents, is a community where nearly one in five households live below the poverty line, almost a third of families speak Spanish at home, and affordable housing and trust in institutions are often fragile.  It is in this context that my work in church planting and unarmed response is complementary and fundamentally aligned.

Both of these roles, I believe, focus on one profound question:  How can we, as a community, nurture and maintain peace so that we can live with awareness, compassion, and surrender amidst life's imperfections?

My role as a Bishop who's starting a church involves nurturing a spiritual community that offers solace, connection, and a sense of belonging.  The GPNS aims to provide a vital counter-narrative to the isolation and despair that often accompany systemic challenges.  The vision of this church is to make Christ known in our city, make disciples, and champion biblical justice while building a diverse, culturally responsive body rooted in the historic faith of the Church.  I wrote more about why Lynn needs this type of church here.

At the same time, my work with Lynn's Calm team centers on de-escalating conflicts, promoting understanding, and building bridges across the city.  By doing so, it provides a concrete way to address situations that might otherwise turn into violence or distrust.  These two efforts work together to create a more resilient, compassionate, and peaceful city.

Traditionally, bi-vocational ministry meant that pastors had a "day job" and did church work on the side.  However, recently, global leaders have discussed Co-vocational Ministry, where work and ministry are integrated rather than separated.

Living in Lynn, co-vocational ministry comes naturally.  Churches here can't afford to ignore the city's struggles.  A pastor might also be a teacher, a principal like my wife, a social worker, an entrepreneur, or, in my case, a Community Manager for an unarmed response team.

Starting a church in Lynn requires careful intention.  Every decision matters:  How we address poverty in our prayers, how we develop leaders who represent the city's racial and cultural diversity, and how we discuss the current state of our country, among other things.

The Calm team emphasizes that same intentionality.  I don't enter neighbor disputes by accident.  I prepare.  I train.  I choose to listen first and speak second, and I de-escalate rather than dominate.  In a city where public safety and residents sometimes struggle to trust one another, showing up with compassion and self-restraint is revolutionary.

Leading the Calm Team is more than just civic duty.  For me, it has become a spiritual practice.  When I walk into a sometimes volatile situation unarmed, I bring presence, patience, compassion, and prayer.  I am reminded that Jesus Himself came unarmed.  He had no sword, no force, only love strong enough to face problems without perpetuating them or making them worse.

The Send Network, a church planting network that supports church planters, explains that co-vocational church planting is about "reshaping vocation so that secular and sacred callings serve God's mission together." ¹ And Northern Seminary calls co-vocational ministry "the future of sustainable church planting." ² I integrate both the secular and the sacred as best as I can.  What you see on Sunday, you also see Monday - Saturday.  In other words, I don't juggle two separate professions and change who I am based on where I'm working.  Instead, I view myself as having one primary calling that manifests in two different areas.  They are so connected that leaving one wouldn't feel like a genuine departure, because my life is deeply intertwined with both.

Starting something new always sounds exciting until it actually happens.  The first rollout usually reveals one unavoidable truth:  Something will go wrong.  This feels especially true for me because, along with my team, I'm building both The GPNS and The Calm team at the same time.

The truth is, anything worth building requires some troubleshooting.  The first few months of any new program or venture often resemble a line graph that has its share of peaks and valleys.  The vision might be clear, and the heart might be in the right place, but systems take time to breathe, adjust, and find their rhythm.  Anyone who's been part of a new project understands what I mean.  Plans seem perfect on paper—then the printer jams: Volunteers fall ill, the website malfunctions, funding falls through, and key people leave; things go wrong.

When a community is growing or building something new, we need patience from each other.  We need the kind of grace that says, "I see what you're trying to do, and I'm still with you - even if it's not perfect yet."  Because with every new thing, there are people:  people learning, testing, adjusting, and sometimes people failing their way into faithfulness.

Every successful ministry or community effort begins with what is available, not what is ideal.  But like the five loaves of bread and two red snappers, God has a way of multiplying what seems small when people bring it with sincere hearts.

So, when you visit The GPNS and don't see the fancy upgrades, or the children's or youth ministry, or when The Calm Team doesn't respond quickly enough, the phones are busy, or maybe we didn't resolve the reason for your call the way you wanted.  Remember, programs start simple before they scale.  Know this:  We are being careful stewards.  We want to build sustainably and not recklessly.  We're investing thoughtfully in resources that will have a long-term impact.  This means we have to start with version 1.0 before reaching the polished 2.0; some things will require 2.1 and 2.2.  As a result, progress may take longer than we'd like.

This also means that your patience and support are more critical than ever.

Troubleshooting, funding, and growing all take time.  Over time, we discover who we are as a community.  We learn to encourage rather than to critique harshly, and to pray for the vision rather than demand perfection.  In scripture, Paul, a man who was by far an outstanding entrepreneurial leader, thanks the church in Philippi for their partnership in the Gospel, not just for their applause, but for their tangible support.  See, the church in Philippi gave, prayed, and they believed in the vision, even when it wasn't flashy or complete.  

For both of these initiatives, that's the kind of community we're building, a community that understands that progress takes time and that patience is part of success.  

As we launch new initiatives, whether churches, ministries, outreach programs, or dreams that are just beginning to take shape, we are thankful for your patience, prayers, partnership, and valuable feedback.  We commit to addressing challenges wisely and stewarding resources responsibly, while maintaining our focus on excellence throughout the process.  Because in the end, grace is the true foundation, and as long as we stay grounded in it, everything will come together - one faithful adjustment at a time.

When we gather for worship at The GPNS on the first and second Sunday of the month, until our official launch on Easter Sunday 2026, we reaffirm our shared purpose and dedication to action.  During these times, we are united by the divine calling to serve.  These gatherings are intentional; they direct our every step, ensuring our efforts are meaningful and well-focused.  Ultimately, it is a service that roots us deeply, connects us to the needs of our community, and grounds our faith in tangible acts of love and compassion.

Consider the dynamic relationship between planting a new church and the demanding, often risky task of leading an unarmed response team in the heart of Lynn.  At first glance, these may seem like separate, even competing callings:  One focused on spiritual growth within sacred walls, the other on intervention in the city's streets.  Yet, I see them not as conflicting efforts, but as deeply connected expressions of the same overall mission.  They serve as potent reminders that the Gospel's powerful and transformative nature isn't limited to the sacred space of the sanctuary.  It is strong enough to encompass both the quiet dignity of a worship service and the urgent, often chaotic realities of our city's streets.  The Gospel calls us to act holistically by nurturing souls and ministering to bodies.  The Gospel calls us to build spiritual communities and create safer neighborhoods.  In Lynn, these paths are not separate but woven together in God's redemptive work.

1. North American Mission Board, “Co-Vocational Church Planting: Rethinking Vocation.”NAMB.net

2. Northern Seminary, “Post-Pandemic Church Planting Initiative.” seminary.edu