On a bright blue afternoon, Anna Woofenden and I walked along the sidewalks that skirt the cozy houses in the Bay Area of California, and Anna started to articulate her call. “I’m not going to be a church planter,” she said.

My head snapped up as Anna continued to concentrate on the cement. I was stunned. As long as I had known her, Anna had dreamed of starting a worshiping community.

“I am a church planter,” she declared. My mouth cracked wide with a relieved smile.