From Homelessness to Harvest: A Journey of Surrender

 From Homelessness to Harvest: A Journey of Surrender

Scripture Readings (NLT)

1 Timothy 6:7–8

“After all, we brought nothing with us when we came into the world, and we can’t take anything with us when we leave it. So if we have enough food and clothing, let us be content.”

1 Thessalonians 4:7

“God has called us to live holy lives, not impure lives.”

Romans 3:23–24

“For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard. Yet God, in his grace, freely makes us right in his sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when he freed us from the penalty for our sins.”

John 3:5

Jesus replied, “I assure you, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit.”

1 John 1:9

“But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness.”

Psalm 16:8

“I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me.”

For a long time, Ross and I walked a blurred line. We talked to God regularly—we knew His name—but we were not truly living for Him. We were living with one foot in the world and one foot in faith, never fully realizing that God desires all of us, not fragments of us.

Eventually, the life we had built crumbled, and we became homeless.

At the time it felt like devastation, but now I can clearly see it was God’s Chesed—His steadfast covenant love—pursuing us even through the breaking. He allowed our earthly walls to fall so that He alone could become our foundation.

As 1 Timothy 6:7–8 reminds us, we brought nothing into this world and will take nothing from it. The Greek word for contentment, autarkeia, speaks of a soul-deep sufficiency that is not dependent on circumstances. That is exactly what God taught us.

For two long years, we searched for a place that would welcome us and our beloved pets, but every door closed. At last, all that remained was a $1,500 camper and a patch of land four hours away from everything familiar.

What looked like our last option was actually God’s first choice for our transformation.

There, in the stillness and isolation, He fulfilled 1 Thessalonians 4:7, calling us out of uncleanness and into holiness. The word hagiasmos means to be set apart, and that is exactly what He did. He literally removed us from the noise of the world so He could cleanse what was unclean in our spirits.

We had to face the truth of Romans 3:23–24—that we had sinned and fallen short of His glory. Yet the beauty of the Gospel is the Dorea, the free gift of grace.

In that hidden place, we were born again in a fresh and visceral way through John 3:5. We stopped justifying our choices and began practicing 1 John 1:9, confessing our sins and trusting Him to purify us completely.

For decades, food cupboards had been part of our survival—just the way life had always been since the mid-80s. But when we moved to that land, God used physical hunger to awaken a deeper spiritual hunger.

He was calling us home—not just to a church building, but into His presence and His people.

Then just as we found a church family who truly cared, COVID hit, and the world went silent.

But what God sets in motion cannot be stopped.

When the church doors reopened, we ran inside, and the love we received shattered every remaining wall around our hearts. We began living the truth of Psalm 16:8: “I will not be shaken, for He is right beside me.” The Hebrew word mote means to slip, stagger, or fall. As long as we sat on the throne of our own lives, we were always slipping. But once we placed Christ at the center, we finally stood firm.

Today, Ross and I no longer see that $1,500 camper as a symbol of poverty.

It is a monument to mercy.

Now we are not only sitting in the pews—we are Certified Lay Leaders, entrusted and authorized to preach the Word in any Methodist church. God transformed us from people who once only received help into His hands and feet, serving others in abundance.

God did not take our home to punish us.

He took it to give us a Kingdom.

What once looked like homelessness became holy ground. What once looked like loss became calling. What once looked like the end became ordination into purpose.

That camper was never the end of the story.

It was the altar where surrender began.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, thank You for every step of this journey, even the painful ones. Thank You for the camper, the wilderness, the waiting, and the stripping away of everything that kept us from fully depending on You.

Lord, as Ross and I continue to walk in our calling as Certified Lay Leaders, pour out Your anointing upon us. Give us listening hearts, humble spirits, and words filled with Your compassion and truth.

Let our lives remain a testimony that no one is too far gone and no situation is beyond Your restoring grace. Use us as Your hands and feet in the Methodist church and beyond. May we never forget the wilderness that taught us how faithful You are.

In Jesus’ mighty name, Amen.

The Lord’s Prayer

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

BELIEVE. OBEY. BE BLESSED. AMEN. 🤍

Love, Penny 💛