Further Up. Further In
Small, and Good
I don’t often want to feel small.
I don’t like being misunderstood, misheard, mislabeled, or mistaken for something I’m not. I don’t like being humiliated, cut off, poked fun of, or overlooked. I want to be seen, heard, and noticed—and if I’m being fully honest, there are moments when I even want to be feared.
For years I’ve joked that I live with two competing realities: the one in my head and the one I actually inhabit.
In my imagination, I’m a tough, confident man’s man. I ride a Harley (without a helmet) and don’t care what anyone thinks. I say what needs to be said, do what needs to be done, and lead the charge without fear or hesitation. That version of me stirs most loudly when I feel small.
Then there’s the reality I usually live in.
I ride a bicycle, not a Harley. I avoid conflict. I care deeply what people think. I don’t always tell the full truth or say the hard thing. I hesitate. I doubt. I shirk responsibility. I’m afraid. I’m childish at times. All of this convinces me that I am small—and that smallness is a problem.
Before this turns too self-deprecating, there is a third, truer reality—one made possible by the love of Jesus.
In this reality, I am both small and large. I am a mouse and a lion. I am tough and tender. I am a child and a man. I am dust, and I am eternal. I live in this tension because of the love of the King and the cross of Jesus Christ. Here, smallness is not something to escape—it is something redeemed. And in this same reality, I am larger than life, seated with Christ, united to the conqueror of death and the overcomer of all things.
I’ve needed this reminder more than ever in recent months.
I believed I needed to become that first man—the fearless, wind-in-his-hair version of myself. And every time I fell short of that image, I felt like a failure. A fraud. Small. Like a mouse.
That’s why I’ve found myself thinking often of Reepicheep, the beloved mouse from The Chronicles of Narnia. Reepicheep longs to be brave and noble, despite his small stature. Yet his greatness isn’t proven by slaying giants—it’s revealed in his unwavering pursuit of Aslan’s Country. He is willing to leave everything behind to find Paradise. His mantra rings through the story: Further up and further in.
That has become my prayer too. Further up into the glory and love of God. Further into the Kingdom and the good works prepared for me—whatever they may be.
It is with that prayer, and with real emotion, that I share this: our journey further up and further in has led us to close this chapter of ministry and life known as Capitol City Church.
Planting a church has given us clarity about our calling, our gifts, and our desire to live as missionaries in our city. For a long time, we assumed that meant pastoring and leading a church. We’ve come to accept that it does not. We need to be part of a church, not lead one. We are wacko, Jesus-freak missionaries, and we do that best in the ordinary places of life.
We are staying in Denver. We are loving the same neighborhood, the same families, and the same coworkers. Ally will continue tattooing. I am pursuing a career as a barber—school began January 12 and will take about twelve months. Our prayer is that these spaces continue to become our ministry spaces, as they already have begun to be.
Our church has held it’s final meeting and will ring the bell with a final Feast in late February, celebrating all that God has done among us. We are helping our people—including ourselves—find new church homes where they can continue participating in God’s work. This year, we will attend a grace-filled church to rest, reset, and rejoin the life of the Kingdom.
Our online presence will remain through February, after which we will enter a season of silence. Of rest. Please reach out if you want to talk, ask questions, or offer encouragement—we would truly welcome it.
We are also asking current donors to consider helping us transition from years of vocational ministry into this next season of barber school and interim work. If you’re interested in supporting our family directly, please reach out to me personally. For clarity, all remaining donations to Capitol City Church will be distributed to partner ministries serving our city.
Wrestling through this decision has been one of the most painful and formative experiences of my life. I’ve tried to harness pride to reshape reality—to become someone I’m not. I’ve shrunk back in fear and self-loathing, feeling insignificant and defeated.
And yet, Jesus has met me again and again.
He reminds me that I am a son. A saint. Saved not by my work, but by his. He calls me—still—to forsake all else for the gospel and the Kingdom. To seek His Country. To go, like Reepicheep, over the waterfall at the end of the world, trusting that He is there on the other side.
We are Small—and held.
--Michael, Ally, Aksel, Flora, and Frances
