Loaves, Fishes, and Faith
When people ask how much it costs to move your family across an ocean for a two-year mission… I usually smile and say, “A lot.”
But the truth is, it's more than that.
It costs everything.
Not just money, but security. Not just belongings, but comfort. Not just a place to live, but the life we’ve built. In February of 2023, we unpacked boxes in Glen Rose, Texas, believing we were finally settling after years of searching. We found community. Our kids found neighborhood best friends. Calen and I stepped into roles where we thrived—pouring into the veteran community, building something that felt lasting.
And then God said, “Now go.”
And so here we are, staring at spreadsheets and prayer lists.
There’s no easy way to explain the financial cost of a move like this:
Visas for four people
The Immigration Health Surcharge (IHS) fee just to access healthcare
International flights
Furniture and household goods (most of which we can’t bring)
A vehicle in Scotland, where everything is a little more complicated—and a lot more expensive
And of course, setting up a new life, from scratch, in a land that isn’t quite foreign but also isn’t yet home
It adds up fast. And in earthly terms, it doesn’t make sense.
But God doesn't work in earthly terms.
He works in loaves and fishes.
He works in faith steps and mustard seeds.
He works in ways that stretch us until we realize He’s the one holding it all together.
When we said yes to this mission, we didn’t say it because we had the budget. We said it because we had the burden. The calling came first and the cost followed.
But I know this: God does not call us to something only to abandon us halfway through. Every time we have stepped out in faith, He has met us with provision. Sometimes slow. Sometimes last-minute. But always enough. And often? Abundantly more than we expected.
That’s the hope we’re clinging to now, especially as we step into something much bigger than ourselves..
We believe this isn’t just about our family moving to Scotland. It’s about building a space for church leaders, missionaries, and families who are weary but ready, ones who need to breathe, who need to be reminded that rest is holy and restoration is possible.
Overtoun House will be a place of peace. Of healing. Of long walks and deep conversations and Holy Spirit revival. And the truth is—we can’t do that on our own. But we aren’t supposed to.
We’re believing that the God who brings beauty out of brokenness will also bring provision out of obedience.
If He called us, He will equip us.
If He stirred hearts, He will sustain them.
If He can feed five thousand with a little boy’s lunch, He can make our “not enough” into “more than enough.”
And so, with spreadsheets in one hand and open hands in the other, we’re walking forward—trusting in abundance not because we’ve seen the full path, but because we know the One who laid it.
