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Gipson Family Christmas Update: Wilderness Lessons

It’s now almost 5 months since this wild ride began for our family. As Christmas approaches, things are just as much up in the air as when we started.

However, we do have confirmation that God was leading us to shut down our lives in St Louis and move to Knoxville in response to my brother-in-law Claude’s sudden death. Our extended family here has truly needed us, and I understand a little better now why God brought us here. It has been incredibly tough on both Dawn and on me in different ways. But circumstances have shown us why we needed to come. 

centerfold
From the crease going down this brochure, it seems I’m officially a “centerfold” ;0)

I’m about to leave the house for my three night a week job performing in Pigeon Forge. I’m thankful to have the income, though small, and to work with people I enjoy. I’m also finishing up another class in my doctoral studies. Got an A average so far, and taking my final exam this week.

Dawn has been working a part-time job at Soma. However, it has taken a real toll on her bad leg, which makes it tough for her to stand for long periods of time. And since our oldest daughter Emily just got a job there as manager, Dawn will probably be stepping aside from that job. But frankly I’m relieved, since I’m not that great of a mom and homeschool teacher. The girls need their mom.

But with Dawn’s Soma discount, everyone’s getting bras for Christmas, even me! ;0)

Our daughter Sarah just got a promotion in her job to manager, so we’re excited about that. She is working hard, constantly on the go.

Our little ones Ellie and Gracie are doing well. Dawn is homeschooling them, and they also go to dance and art classes. They love the church we’re attending (Sevier Heights) and have terrific leaders there. And thanks to my free passes as a performer in Pigeon Forge, we’ve been able to enjoy a lot of the entertainment up here as a family. 

We’re all busy, working while waiting for whatever is next in our lives. Am I thankful? Absolutely. Am I satisfied? Not really.

When we moved to Knoxville in the summer to step in for my brother-in-law’s death, I presumed if I didn’t find a church to pastor that I should pray about starting one. So after about a month we began a ministry from scratch, but we simply didn’t have enough help to pull it off alone. After a little over a month into it, with the whole thing resting mostly on our family, we finally had to call it quits.

Downton
Celebrating our 31st Wedding Anniversary at the Downton Abbey Exhibition

We started attending another church, and that’s been one of the best things we’ve done here. We look forward to every Sunday now. I even tried out the choir last week and plan to start serving there in January. It does indeed feel incredibly weird not to be leading, but we don’t believe in just sitting and watching at church. You need to give something back both financially and in service, so we’re trying to do that.

While I do have to fight not to give in to fears and doubts about the future, I feel like I’m growing stronger spiritually. With the downsizing we’ve experienced lately (living in a basement and no church to pastor), it’s been helpful to to train my thoughts on what we still have and not what we don’t. All I need to do is look over at my wife Dawn, with whom I just celebrated 31 years of marriage. Or glance toward the two little girls asleep in the next bedroom. Or call one of my other three kids who are still alive and healthy as adults now. 

In spite of everything we’ve lost this year, a quick glance in any direction reminds me how incredibly blessed I am! I am SO VERY THANKFUL for how God is sustaining us! However, I’m still a pastor without a church to lead. That’s an empty space I hear echoing most every single minute.

My thankfulness for the “manna” God’s provided can’t take away my hunger to continue in my calling. And yet, while I’m not happy wandering in the wilderness, I believe I can see reasons God has us here.

  • In the Bible, the wilderness wasn’t as much a place of exile, but growth. Even when Moses went there to escape, he ended up running smack dab into a burning bush and his destiny.
  • The Spirit of God led Jesus to the wilderness specifically to be tempted by Satan. While that sounds like a mean trick to play on someone, it was a training camp Jesus had to graduate from before He could pursue His earthly teaching ministry, and ultimately the Cross. 
  • Likewise, the children of Israel went to the wilderness mainly because they weren’t ready to enter the Promised Land. They’d been slaves for 400 years, with a slave mentality to match. So it was going to take quite a bit of training in that desert before they were the army that could take possession of their new homeland. In fact, if God had given it to them before the wilderness, they would’ve failed and ended in destruction.

So right now, we’re enjoying our own wilderness of sorts. We’re seeing things from a different vantage point: the view from the pew. I’m just a regular guy now, singing along with the songs and following as someone else preaches.

Yeah, it’s been humbling, but not in a disciplining way. It’s just always good perspective to be reminded that GOD DOESN’T REALLY NEED YOU TO GET THINGS DONE!

So hopefully next time I’m a pastor, I won’t put the weight of the world, of the church, and of every church member’s problems on my own shoulders. They were never built to hold that much stress, and right now God’s church is functioning just fine without me leading. And knowing that gives me peace now, because there was a time I thought it was all going to crush me.

As I was prayer-walking the other night, God actually started giving me a list of reasons why He put me in this wilderness season. Here are a few of the ones I jotted down as I walked…

  • God wants me to detox from my addiction to people’s approval. I’ve needed too many people’s attention and affirmation in the past. Right now, He wants me to care only about having His.
  • God wants me to stop finding my identity in my calling as a pastor. Right now, I’m significant to no one but my family. And that’s a good thing.
  • God wants me to trust He is good. No matter how hard this is, He wants me to trust He has a plan in it.
  • God wants me to stop believing only my gifts & talents give me worth. Instead of jumping through hoops to gain His favor, He wants me to sit and learn that He loves me simply because I am His.

I believe once I’ve internalized those lessons enough, God will have another church for me to lead. Dawn and I both look forward to the time I’ll be pastoring again. We hope it is soon, because right now we’re in God’s wilderness, in between where we were and where we’re going. We appreciate your prayers for our family over these months, and are so thankful for each one of you who still consider us your friends! 

We are waiting expectantly, patiently (most of the time), believing one day soon the manna will dry up and God will lead us into our future home. Please pray with us toward that day!

God bless,

Dave

Here’s how our journey began last summer…

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Copyright © 2024 by David Gipson. All rights reserved.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.