Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. — James 3:4

How many times, as pastors, do we feel overwhelmed and rudderless?

Overwhelmed by the needs of our congregations. Outnumbered by the needs of our communities. Dismayed by the dysfunction of our democracy. Outwitted by the monumental — if not existential — questions facing the future for many churches. Outmatched by what may seem like the Sisyphean task of trying to be a 24 hour a day, 7 days a week, 365 days per year, volunteer coordinator-social worker-scholar-preacher-cheerleader-mop-up-specialist.

And what about those we lead and care for in Christ? They, too, are so often overwhelmed by life and all that comes with it in these days of widespread uncertainty, fear and hard-heartedness.

Sometimes God gives us a task, a singular calling, a particular focus that helps us regain perspective and stay on course. A decade ago, the congregation I serve, Caldwell Presbyterian Church in Charlotte, set out to convert a century-old Sunday school building into 21 studio apartments for the chronically homeless. The name of the new non-profit is Easter’s Home. (To learn more, go to eastershome.com.)

Yes, that is only 21 of the more than 35,000 units of affordable housing this fast-growing, haves-and-have-nots, affluent city needs. Our effort is, some say, hardly worth the millions of dollars and thousands of hours required to open the doors this summer.

But time and again this vision has guided the congregation through the “strong winds” of the past decade in America, in our denomination and in Christendom. Whenever we might feel as if we don’t know where to start to be the Body of Christ, God’s gift of this audacious dream centers and unites us.

The congregation plunged into understanding the lives of those who have been unhoused so that we can be good neighbors. It studied the causes and oppressions of poverty, addiction, the roots of the area’s housing crisis and the efficacy of the housing-first approach to ending homelessness.

We learned about trauma-informed care and, throughout lent, held focus on the truth that we all have wounds, visible and invisible. Understanding more about mental, emotional and spiritual wounds and trauma not only helps us empathize with our neighbors-to-be. It also makes space for sharing among our members about their wounds and their healing.

We live in days when we all find ourselves grasping for a hold amidst storms of social change, a grip on something that can stop our tumbling about the state of things around us. Easter’s Home has been that for Caldwell’s 400 members and friends.

From one end of scripture to the other, we find stories, wisdom and instruction about how one singular, if not tiny thing can help us focus and regain perspective to see God at work. Sarai’s unlikely womb. Moses’ simple staff. David’s sling and five smooth stones. Job’s unshakeable faith in the face of every hardship. Five loaves and two fish. The mustard seed. The widow’s mite. The small rudder that guides the giant ships.

We know the mission doesn’t end when the doors of Easter’s Home open. That is when new work begins. Caldwell welcomes prayers as we shift from building housing to building community.

We pray with humility and faithful hope for the 21 people who will share our 1-acre, urban campus. And we give God Our Pilot our thanks for a rudder that guides us through all the storms that rage around us