The Vision

Visions are not born in a vacuum. Environmental factors are at work in the birthing of an idea. It was the year 1999 and Y2K rumours had reached even our ears. Things had to be pretty big to filter through our lifestyle of no television, little radio and spasmodic newspaper reading.

 By June 1999, the world was dividing into three categories.
 Those who did nothing, those who did something, and those who prepared to outlast the end of civilisation.

 Ian and I fell into the last egg-on-face category. We had our hundred cans of baked beans, sack of dried chick peas, fresh drinking water, camp cooker and six dozen candles. We also had a big red FOR SALE sign up in our front yard.

 There were two reasons for the sign. New Zealand is a long and skinny land, and in many places there are only three major arteries that circulate traffic. Our house was positioned on the middle artery, and we figured if any trouble was to arise, rioters would come down from the North, right past our house. We had four young children and felt vulnerable. The second reason was, those same young children we felt vulnerable about needed more space to roam than our small town yard.

1999 was also a time of great unhappiness at our last church. We were looking for land and distraction.

 We found the perfect property in an old house and ten acres thirty minutes from town. We found the perfect distraction in comfortable chairs thirty inches from our fireplace.

It was there the words just sort of popped out of lan’s mouth,

“We could start a church.”
And equally without thought, the words just sort of popped out of my mouth,
“Yes, and I know where, up Mount Tiger.”


We were both dying to pop the idea into Mum and Dad’s minds, but as it was nine o'clock Friday evening and Mum and Dad would probably already be in bed, the idea of calling them there and then popped altogether. We decided to restrain ourselves until seven thirty the next morning.


At seven o'clock Saturday morning, Mum was sitting with Dad in bed, cup of tea in hand, when Mum said,
“We have been praying for a church up here for fifteen years, let’s pray NOW is the time LORD.”
So together they prayed. They finished praying at seven thirty, just as the phone rang.


The first issue was, “Where shall we meet?” We hunted for an unused barn for a chapel, somewhere up Mount Tiger. Meanwhile house hunters poured through our house in town. But it seemed no suitable barn could be found, neither could a suitable buyer be found for our house.


 We stockpiled another hundred cans of food, two dozen boxes of matches, put up more FOR SALE signs, and decided to build our own small chapel at the top of the driveway in front of Mum and Dads place.


As Dad started cutting away the turf for the foundations of the building, a great buzz of interest started around us. Many from The-Parents-church wanted to help and one man haunted the auctions purchasing second hand windows for the new chapel.


There was so much support lan and I felt superfluous and focused our attention on a small church full of old ladies, close to our intended new house. Maybe that was the church we felt called to once a month?


Then bit by bit, everyone from The-Parents-church lost interest. Mum and Dad realised the chapel was too close to their house for comfort and they were too old to host it.


The bald building area greened over with grass again and Dad decided to use the second hand windows to build a glasshouse. The whole vision fell to the ground and lay buried for three months.


At the end of three months our house had still not sold and we were denied an extension of time to sell our house. Suddenly the house we had wanted to buy and seemed so perfect didn’t seem so perfect any more.


Our eyes opened and we saw the church that had claimed our temporary attention, was a dead dinosaur. Within a moment, our whole direction was wiped out from under us.


I called Mum. A fifteen minute phone call and everything clicked into place. Mum and Dad would give us the back part of their land. We would put in a separate driveway well away from their house.
Ian and I would spearhead the chapel. I knew the exact position the new building would stand on and the exact modifications to the plan we would need for its new dual purpose. We would keep our house in town and use the shed as a chapel and a weekend cottage.


By August 1999 the first bulldozer began work carving out the new driveway. Now we had thirty acres of bush for our kids to roam about in, an escape hatch and storage place for our two hundred cans of food and the beginnings of the most productive distraction of our lives.