A couple of Sundays back, our fledgling Southern Baptist congregation, Redemption City Church of Franklin, Tennessee, met out on the land where we aspire to erect a building in the not-too-distant future. The story behind the setting is one we love to tell, and the USC label on the back of the lawn chair tells another tale, one which contributes to our happy prospects.

In brief, attorney Frank Ingraham and his wife Francis—he, a long-time Southern Baptist churchman and denominational force—deeded nearly two dozen acres from his Tap Root Farm to our little congregation. And an element in that development was the relationship established in the 1980s with my then-middle-school and now-RCC-pastor son Jedidiah. Jed and his friend Nathan Lankford did Saturday grunt work on the farm, with Frank’s soundtrack of spiritual counsel. Others, including another RCC member, Bruce Kryder, played a big role in the transfer, but suffice it to say that Frank and Francis blessed us mightily. We bought a handful of acres in prime Franklin, Tennessee, territory at what amounts to a 75% discount, all because they wanted a legacy church on their property. And, in the meantime (and beyond), we’re cultivating the fields to provide food to the needy, with scores of tons of vegetables already distributed in the name of the Lord.

But what about the Californians? Well, back to the USC logo on the folding chair. It turns out that a lot of folks are moving from around the nation to the Nashville area, many of them to Williamson Country south of Nashville, with Franklin as the county seat. It’s been going on for a while, but has accelerated in recent years. For one thing, Nashville is a boom town, where those running for mayor sometimes promise that “we’ll not become Atlanta,” what with the traffic jams and loss of charm. But construction proceeds apace, notwithstanding the COVID disruptions and recalibrations. Magazines as varied as Forbes and New York have designated ours a great place to live; the venues/joints on Lower Broadway have helped give us the nickname Nashvegas; and the NHL’s Predators have coined the label Smashville. So yes, we’re a happenin’ place.

But it’s a push-pull affair. As middle Tennessee is pulling folks its way, other places (including California with all its wonders) seem intent on pushing out a sector of their citizenry, whether through political, cultural, or economic deconstruction. They’re coming to Tennessee from all many states, but I couldn’t resist playing off the 1965 Mamas and Pappas song, California Dreamin’. 

All that being said, those of us who find ourselves in the Franklin area are dreaming big as we see the Lord’s blessing upon us and work among us. The prosperity of our metro region is gratifying, but our fondest desire is that God in Christ would show himself mighty in our congregational midst, with waves of biblical influence extending to our neighbors and beyond.