From Jesus-Loving Misfit To Ministry Expert

Growing up Catholic

I was the youngest of 3 growing up in Euclid, Ohio, born to a banker and a stay-at-home mom. I remember playing in my backyard alone, making up songs and singing to God. I wore a uniform to Catholic primary school. My strongest memories from church were: #1 – Passing out on Easter Sunday and hitting my head on the pew in front of me, and #2 – Being glared at by the priest after I accidentally dropped the Host during First Communion practice. I must’ve been a weirdo at school because I chose to stay in the classroom while other 6-year-olds went outside to play at recess. Here’s why I stayed inside: I was crocheting. I only knew the chain stitch though, so I ended up with a really, really, really long red rope. I don’t have too many other memories from childhood, but I remember when we moved to Mansfield. 

Next year’s teacher was mean and repetitively picked on a certain boy calling him a nasty word. After telling my mom about it, she called the school. The next day, I got called into the principal’s office so the teacher could explain that “Dick” was just a name, like Tom, Dick, and Harry. (The boy’s name was not Dick.) My eyes were so tear-filled when I went to leave the principal’s office that I mistakenly walked into a cleaning supply closet. After my mom found out about that meeting, I was moved to a nicer teacher’s classroom.

Junior high misfit finds Jesus

Before I started sixth grade, my dad lost his job and we moved again. This time we ended up in an upscale town called Medina. (We were not upscale.) It turns out that going to school in my brother’s hand-me-down jeans and home-sewn shirts meant I was not in the ‘cool club.’ I remember not getting picked for safety guard. Another day, my teacher insisted on reading my poem out loud for the class even though I begged her not to, and I slid under my desk embarrassed. (Sixth grade is way too old to hide under your desk.) This is also the year I learned that being smart wasn’t cool, because during math I had to sit at a table in the back of the room (with a boy I didn’t think was very nice) so we could do different math than everyone else. I also remember when a girl said “I hate you” because she thought my cutout butterfly in art class was better than hers. (I guess being good at art wasn’t so great either.) 

This move wasn’t totally bad though, because it’s also when I met Jesus. My family started attending a local Community church and the people were incredibly kind. I wanted to be part of that. I got baptized at the YMCA pool, and we went to church every Sunday. They also let me go to youth group even though I wasn’t quite old enough. (That was nice too.)

I believe the fact that I didn’t fit in anywhere helped me fall more in love with Jesus, and I also fell in love with Christian Contemporary Worship music. I decided I would be the next Amy Grant, while my mom wanted me to be Sandi Patti (watch for this later in the story).

We lived in a small, rented duplex for my junior and senior high years. It was quite a change from the “mansion” in Mansfield, but there was no complaining. My mom kept our family in rose-colored glasses, counting our blessings.

My parents did a bit more church-hopping, left the Community church I loved, tried a few others, and we settled into an Episcopal church that was “into renewal” (AKA: charismatic). My siblings and I joined the youth group. We sang great songs, performed skits, enjoyed campfires, and went on retreats. I sang onstage regularly for family worship events and youth group stuff. (I had my first beer and my first kiss with church friends too.)

Out of hiding, but still weird

The confidence I was gaining at church carried over a little bit into high school. I joined the school choir and newspaper staff. I tried out for the dance line (didn’t make it) and then auditioned for the school musical and got the lead my freshman year. Unfortunately, I never got a lead again but spent the rest of my high school drama career with tiny chorus parts and helping backstage with sets & props. By my senior year, I was the editor of our school newspaper and also an expert at forging my teacher’s name on hall passes to get out of class whenever I could. I continued working hard to hide the fact that I was smart. I was occasionally outspoken as a Christian and also occasionally attended parties that lots of Christians wouldn’t attend. I was the weirdo who wore elf shoes to school at Christmastime with bells on my toes. I continued missing as much school as I could. In fact, I missed so many days that even my closer friends thought I had an undisclosed disease. 

My dream college lasted one semester

After high school, I knew I would go to Anderson University, in Anderson, Indiana. Sandi Patti, Steven Curtis Chapman, and Bill Gaither had all gone there and I was gonna follow in their musical career footsteps. I received the 2nd highest vocal scholarship for incoming freshmen that year. I started classes, pulled all-nighters with my fancy electronic typewriter to get papers done at the last minute, and was getting used to dorm life. Soon there were auditions to sing special music during chapel services. Not only did auditioning to sing in church feel wrong to me but I also wasn’t chosen. I saw my friends leaving auditions crying and deflated. That feeling of competition didn’t sit well with the girl in the pink sweatpants who always got chosen last. My dream of feeling close to Jesus at my dream college wasn’t feeling so dreamy after all. 

I chose a major based on which electives looked interesting and which prerequisites I wanted to avoid. I ended up creating a custom liberal arts degree with concentrations in Christian Ministries, Business, and Psychology. Because of the liberal arts bachelor’s degree option, I could avoid the boring pre-reqs usually required (no heady theology, no accounting, and no statistics), and I got to take the more appealing classes like biblical literature, team management, and behavior psychology.

Little did I know that I would fall in love with Jesus all over again at Malone. My first New Testament class was with Professor John Geib. He seemed to have no problem with me coming in sweats (navy blue this time), sitting at the back, and missing ½ his classes. I got my assignments in and he would write comments like “Brilliant!” at the top. The next semester, I took a class called Youth Ministry simply because he was teaching it. (I had no interest in Youth Ministry at the time.) John, as he liked to be called, got me excited about not just doing devotions again but about being devoted to Jesus. 

While at Malone, I attended chapel regularly and even led worship there a few times. My parents by this time had hopped over to an Assemblies Of God church. I spoke, sang special music, and helped lead retreats and programs at a variety of churches in numerous denominations throughout my college years.

After college: business or mission field

I graduated college in 3 ½ years while working more than full-time. I don’t say this to brag, but more to share how intense (and unhealthy) I was. After graduating in December, I packed up my dorm room, moved home, cut 8 inches off my hair with my own scissors, and later went to a salon to have it fixed. 

“My name is Rosie Turnbull from Tentmakers Youth Ministry”

Rosie called me from Tentmakers Youth Ministry. She got my name from an interest survey I had completed at the college. I had never heard of her or Tentmakers Youth Ministry, but within a few days, I was driving to Columbus, Ohio to meet her for an interview. A few weeks later, I loaded my car and drove 800 miles by myself to Minneapolis, MN to start a 7-week intensive that changed my life. At the time, Tentmakers was training people to serve part-time in churches as youth directors while they also worked a regular job to help pay the bills (thus, “tentmakers”). 

It was through Tentmakers that I fell in love with spiritual disciplines (especially solitude and silence) and grew in ministry skills too. Their training is unparalleled and then included skills in Motivation, Communication, Management, Public Speaking, Relational Ministry, Decision-Making, Delegating, and more. I experienced tons of personal growth, and much of what I practice and teach today has its foundations in Tentmakers Training. I was such a fan that I went on to work for them as a trainer and ministry consultant too. 

Small churches, big churches

My first Tentmaker “placement” was a little church in Cloquet, MN, which ended up not being a great fit (my first truly painful ministry story – but there would be more to come). A few short months later, I found myself hired as a full-time Junior High Youth Director at a Lutheran church of 3000 in White Bear Lake, MN. This was by far the largest church I had ever been a part of. There was a separate leader for high schoolers, paid staff covering lots of ministry areas, and the most wonderful caring pastor, Pastor Tom Heyd. At a church this large, there were no worries about not enough kids showing up – there was actually the opposite concern. I remember hosting a Pillow Fight Night for fourth & fifth graders (probably not my smartest choice) and well over 50 kids piled in. 

Although my fabulous church wanted me back, at this point I was struggling to end a relationship that already had 2 broken engagements, and Tentmakers had a lead for a church in Ohio. They thought it would be a great fit for me, and they were right. 

Ministry creativity, growth, & mentorship

I was hired full-time by a Congregational church in Toledo, Ohio. Attendance fluctuated between 300-500 during my 9 years there. It was a beautiful time of ministry. I served in youth ministry, children’s ministry, hospitality, newcomers’ ministry, and even did a stint as music/worship director. The pastor saw my gifts in improving, motivating, team-building, and more, and encouraged me to move in various areas. Different from the big church, I got to build things, change things, and create lots. This was my playground! I grew a kids’ church and hung neon parachute fabric in the chapel, wrote curriculum, painted murals, took teens backpacking on mountains, wrote handbooks, led trainings, and overhauled a few other ministry areas too. At this church, I met Joan Fothergill who welcomed me into her living room, made me tea, and listened well. I remember thinking, I want to be like her when I grow up. (I still do.)

Throughout this season, I had amazing times with Jesus down by the river in Wildwood Park as I continued to practice extended times of silence & solitude which I had learned from Tentmakers. It was life-giving to my soul.

During my time in Toldeo, I met and married the man I thought would be my forever life & ministry partner. We had our first two children, he eventually came on staff at the same church where I served, and he began his seminary journey to become a pastor. My years in Toledo were by and large amazing. I learned so much and was well-loved, mentored, and cared for by many. And I was devastated when my time there came to an end.

Moving to Wisconsin

Life wasn’t as much fun after we moved to a smaller church in a suburb of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and I transitioned to a new role as the wife of an associate pastor. I had no official ministry position as I supported his, church dynamics were weird (to say the least), I had 2 littles, and I was lonely.

Since the church had no young moms and I wanted some friends, I started a MOPS group (Mothers Of Preschool Students). I remember putting an ad on Craigslist (yes, really!) looking for other young moms who wanted to help me start and lead this group. And it worked! Soon I found Carolyn, Heidi, Lynn, and Christy, all transplants to Milwaukee, and we not only built a flourishing MOPS group, but we also grew the preschool program as they joined our church and others found us too. 

While I helped in kids’ ministry and sang on the worship team occasionally, marriage was hard. I started selling Arbonne (yep, home parties and all) and became an Area Manager rather quickly making a decent part-time income. I sought counsel for the stress in my marriage and found myself flirting with depression. The counselor advised me to explore hobbies I used to enjoy, so I opened the Yellow Pages (yep, we still had phone books) and found a local art studio. Filled with anxiety and 6 months pregnant, I walked up a creaky, narrow set of stairs. Knocking shyly on the partially open door, I was met by Min Kennedy who greeted me warmly and asked if she could make me a cup of tea. It was a healing space for me as I played with acrylics in a judgment-free space over many months. We were in Milwaukee for about 3 years before we did our best to leave well. The church had some deep dysfunction before we came, and our presence didn’t help.

“I’m not moving to Mexico”

After being made aware of an open pastoral position in a Brethren church in Tucson, Arizona, I looked at a map and promptly declared I did not want to move to Mexico! I had never been west of Colorado, and although I knew Tucson wasn’t in Mexico, it was pretty dang close! (On the map, it wasn’t even a pinky finger north of Mexico, and all I could imagine was the absence of grassy yards and rolling hills!)

Early on in Tucson, I got hit with a very dark period of depression. I remember looking in the mirror with tears streaming down my face as I brushed my toddler’s teeth. I sat stoically at church fellowship events feeling very alone. I sought out counseling once again and worked hard to find the support I needed.

One day, a brand new visitor to church named Becky Brown asked to meet me for coffee. It was very odd timing and I was not feeling social at all. I figured with so much initiative, she was either gonna be a big time-sucker or a great friend. Many years later, we still walk & talk together most mornings – me in Tucson, her now in Texas.

During this time, I also moved my elderly parents from Ohio to Tucson after my dad sank terribly into dementia. I did my best to help, but mostly it was just horrible. After he passed away in 2020, my mom moved in with us briefly before she made her way back to Ohio where the grass is green and trees have leaves. Along the way, my three kids grew into amazing young adults.

Blog turned business

In 2020, I lost my college rep job, due to a department restructuring and unrelated to Covid. I needed to recoup a significant amount of lost income in a season when no one was hiring. So a tiny blog I had started in 2019 became the catalyst to my first paid online workshop called “How To Create A Small Church Ministry You Love.” It was a hit. Apparently, there was quite a need for someone to speak hope and help to small churches everywhere! We held our first online conference in October 2020, created a membership, and continued building up the blog. My daughter joined me soon after, critiquing my website (with love) as well as my social media dorkyness (my words, not hers). I hired her to make everything better, and she has. My sister was a big source of support and began helping create resources, work with guest bloggers, and manage our fast-growing Facebook community.

Current years

What I left out of all the ministry stories are times of hurt, pain, loss, accusation, misunderstanding, church splits, a church merger from hell, emotional abuse, abandonment, betrayal, and more. I acknowledge that my experience is not unique, and I also know I have caused pain as well as received it. I’ve come to embrace that my healing and my journey forward in Christ’s community is infinitely more important than hanging onto the details of those stories. I currently sing in the choir, lead monthly Community Day Potlucks, and help out where needed at a small church in Marana, AZ.

I want you to know there is hope beyond any struggle. I don’t believe in slapping cliches on anything, and while I do believe that with God all things are possible, I’m also convinced that God’s plan includes other humans. God never meant for us to live with private pain and hollow platitudes. We were created for connection and community, and clearly that hasn’t always come easy for me! But when it’s not easy, we have the choice to seek out (and sometimes fight for) the support we need.