Lighthouse Ministries Outreach
Karankawa Bay Ranch, Est 1893
Some stories aren’t written in books… they’re written into the land. The soil holds memory, the wind carries names, and the water tells of those who came before. Mine begins on the Texas coast, where legacy and land are inseparable, and where the rhythm of ranch life shaped generations before I ever took my first breath.
My grandmother’s father, H.C. Lewis, was a Brahman Cattle farmer on the Texas coast. His ranch was located just outside of Palacios on Karankawa Bay. If I’m not mistaken, the ranch was a thousand or more acres large. My grandmother, Nettie Lewis, was born in the house that sits on the property today.
At some point, Mr. Lewis designed and laid out small lots from part of his land in what is now a small community, Carancahua Lewis Estates; a quiet little neighborhood on the bay. I don’t know the specifics on how all of it traded hands or even how much of Mr. Lewis’s land ended up in the hands of other ranchers and property owners in the area.
What I do know is – when I was a young boy, I had access to somewhere near 200 acres of which a nice stretch dropped into Karankawa Bay. From the edge of the small cliff and at just the right time, one can watch that beautiful Texas sun setting over Karankawa Bay. It is a sight. Stunning, to say the least. Many days and nights were spent overlooking the bay from the edge of that cliff. The thought of a nice campfire overlooking the water as the sun sets out across it is a memory I pray never leaves me.
A Land Full of Memories
Four wheelers, guns, fishing poles, muddy trails, BBQs, campfires, family… I’ve got memories on this land that will last me for eternity. I shot my first handgun out here at six years old—a 9mm Dad held in my hands while teaching me how to stay calm, breathe, “squeeze, don’t pull.” I learned weapon safety here. Learned the beauty of four-wheeling, going fast, and getting muddy. It’s where I watched my first deer go down. Where I ran a rusty wire through the bottom of my foot wading through shoreline waters. It’s where Dad and I shared our first beer together before I shipped off to the military.
“If you’re old enough to defend this country, you’re old enough to have a beer with me.”
Most of the 200 acres slipped away after my grandparents went home to be with the Lord. I never understood why we weren’t given first rights, but I also know—God’s plans are greater than our understanding, and I’ve come to Peace with it.
Dad passed on to be with the Lord April 23rd, 2018. By then, we were down to the last five acres. Somehow, he held onto the best piece. Towering trees. A camp area that overlooks a shallow pond. A good water well. An old oak with a beautiful canopy that Dad planted out of a coffee can. A proper front entrance. And still standing—though it needs to be brought down with care—the old house where my grandmother was raised. There is history in its wood and we plan to reclaim as much of it as we can. There is legacy in the soil of this property. Dad left this small piece of Paradise to my sister, Jamie, and I. Our intention is to expand and add to that legacy.
The Fight for Soil
Dad fought long and hard for years to hold on to every speck of soil he could. He made some questionable financial decisions paired with a few life struggles that allowed much of it to slip away… and that’s okay. He fought—and that’s what matters.
We are grateful for what we have.
We are grateful for the memories.
We are grateful for our families.
We are grateful for the God we serve—the God who breathed life into our lungs.
We also know that nothing lasts forever and that change is inevitable.
We are okay with that.
He would often tell me, “There is not a spot out here that your grandfather’s boots haven’t touched.”
Funny – in my memories, I watch him in his cowboy boots walking the property just the same. And now, here I am… doing exactly that.
God of Restoration
But where did it all go? Why did we lose so much? One afternoon in 2024, I’m pacing one of the back fields, heart heavy with questions.
I cry out to God, “What’s the deal? What happened here? I am grateful for what we have, but where did all of it go?”
“Your great grandfather set your lineage up with generational wealth.”
Me, “So, what got in the way?”
Loud, clear, "Greed!”
Me, “So, what can we do about it!?”
“Patience, child. I am the God of restoration.”
It felt like a promise.
Like so many stories written in the soil of this world, the things built by calloused hands and long days often slip away when those who built them are gone. It pains me… but I also realize that we all live different lives. We don’t always know what the person next to us is going through. We don’t always know what, truly, drives another person.
Sometimes, the pull of quick money tends to outweigh the quiet strength of legacy... and that's okay. It makes room for a new kind of story to unfold. One of redemption. One where what was lost is lovingly rebuilt.
What once bound us is finally broken.
Thank you, Jesus.
Thank you for these open eyes, open ears, and open heart.
Thank you for the abundance, the wisdom, the guidance… the example.
Thank you for your Love.
Thank you for everything, Sheriff. I miss you, man.
Karankawa Bay Ranch, Est. 1893
Dreaming With the Father
One day, while walking that same back pasture where the Lord and I have our best conversations, I ask, “Father, will you dream with me?”
He breaks out the canvas and the paint brushes.
They say to be careful with what you pray for — because you just might receive it. Dad never told me to be careful… He told me to pay attention; and I am. I know the Lord has something big in store — not just for my family and I, but for many, many people. He’s inviting me to dream with Him, to co-labor in building something that creates opportunity for the multitudes.
“Send me, Lord!”
I had no idea how big this was going to be and still don’t, but He’s given me glimpses — and I know without Him, something of this magnitude would be impossible.
The Vision Unfolds
The dream wasn’t painted from start to finish in a day. It’s been a slow and steady unfolding, brushstroke by brushstroke, throughout most of 2024 and we’re still at it.
Every couple weeks, I take that familiar drive out to the ranch. The road curves through wide open spaces, I roll the windows down, letting the breeze stir something deep in me. I catch myself dreaming, seeing it all as if the painting is complete…
Cattle moving through open pasture. Chickens, pigs, life on the land. Regeneration of soil, of structure, of people. A small meat processing plant. A general store where folks gather, shake hands, and talk about the weather and what God’s been doing in their lives.
The Schoolhouse
And then there’s the schoolhouse.
It’s small. Simple, but sacred. Kids learning about the land, about life, about the Lord. They memorize Scripture right alongside their multiplication tables. They read parables and Psalms the same way they read poems and history books. They’re being raised to know who they are and whose they are, to understand stewardship, identity, and purpose, not just performance.
This isn’t about building something fancy, this is about obedience… it’s about building something Faithful.
A Piece of the Puzzle
One afternoon, on the drive out, I’m on the phone with my buddy Kenny, contemplating much of the ranch land I drive passed.
“I don’t get it,” I tell him. “One side of the road — lush green grass, fat cows, a nice house, a big truck. Then right across from it, brittle pasture, thin cows, a double wide, and a truck that’s seen better years.”
Kenny doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s easy, Jason. There isn’t much money in farming and ranching. The guy with the nice house? He owns a construction company that subsidizes his ranch. The guy across the road? That’s a generational rancher. This is all his family has ever known. They’re doing everything they can with what they have.”
It made sense.
At the time, I didn’t think much of that “construction company” detail but the Lord had a reason for me hearing that. Turns out, it would matter more than I realized.
Disaster Clean Up
This is where things shift a bit. The story rewinds to August 25, 2017, when Hurricane Harvey tore into Aransas County, Texas. My hometown of Rockport took the brunt of the storm. We had family with us in New Braunfels, riding things out away from the coast, when warnings of nearby tornadoes forced us to make another move. We headed west to Castroville. It was there where we linked up with my buddy Colby, who was hauling close to 1,000 gallons of fuel and about the same in water.
The plan was simple: Colby and I would track the storm as it weakened, time our entry into Rockport, and get in before law enforcement started shutting down access. We’d lost contact with several friends inside the city, and we wanted to be there early to help however we could.
We made it in around midnight and immediately started checking properties belonging to friends and family. It was eerie. I’ve never witnessed such darkness. The headlights of the truck were not enough. We used a spotlight for assistance. Over the next few days, like ants after a strong rain, the town began to stir. People showed up. Neighbors helped neighbors. Slowly but surely, we started picking up the pieces.
And then something remarkable happened…
A Seed Is Planted
Amidst the devastation, a crew from San Antonio led by Jesse Moreno of Big Tex Lawn Service arrived on September 1st to assist in cleanup efforts. Of the entire town, these men and women showed up on my mother’s dead-end street. I find that to be of no coincidence, especially now, looking back at the way this story continues to unfold.
Among that crew was a man named Max Cowey. We all worked together, clearing debris, bringing aid, and restoring hope. Though we parted ways when it was over, the connection between Max and I remained, held loosely by social media, but never really gone.
At the time, I didn’t realize what God was doing, but something stirred in me that day. Watching Big Tex operate was like watching a divine orchestration. Their arrival wasn’t just about clean-up, it planted a seed in me.
I captured that moment back then, when the memory was still raw and fresh. I want to share it:
Big Tex
September 2, 2017
Yesterday, part of Copano Village in Rockport, TX got the most amazing surprise.
My brothers, a handful of buddies, and I were making what we thought was good timing on some downed trees that Hurricane Harvey had ripped from the ground. These were huge, established live oak trees, strong, stubborn trees that had been standing for decades.
We were working in my mom’s neighbor’s yard when a crew in bright yellow and orange shirts rolled through asking where to stage their equipment. They had a skid steer, bodies for days, loads of chainsaws, and a golf cart pulling a BBQ pit.
A few of them started working immediately.
With so many scam artists lurking and none of us knowing who these guys were, we approached the owner and told him that per a phone call with the homeowner no one there knew who they were or would be able to foot the bill on what they were about to do.
Dude looked at me directly in the face and said, “Bro, we make plenty of money up in San Antonio. We’re here to help.”
Come to find out, the neighbor’s daughter knew some of the crew and that’s why they were there.
One of the ladies told me they had no idea where they were going to start, but they were coming to Rockport. Their intention was to show up, hit a house, and start mowing down damage. Lucky us, they knew the neighbor’s daughter, so they had a place to begin. And mowing down is exactly what they did.
What we witnessed yesterday was nothing short of incredible. Like a well-oiled machine, these men and women went to work in a way I’ve never seen before. Like the Navy SEALs of tree trimming, these cats completely murdered everything in sight and made short work of it.
Me and my guys had to back off. I felt like we were just getting in the way. I’m talking about the difference between a high school freshman football team and a Division I National Championship team. This was, obviously, not their first rodeo.
The nameless warrior who owns this company, Big Tex Lawn Service, set the pace the entire time, and though he looked beat and tired at the end of the day, he never once lost steam. I saw him climb every bit of 15 feet to the top of a downed tree, balancing and laying waste with a chainsaw in one hand while holding on with the other, no safety harness. The guy operated like some kind of Roman General.
His crew? Christ. Like any true leader, he set the pace, but these guys and gals stayed on his heels the… entire… time. I’ve never seen such a sizable group of people work so well together.
And while all that was happening, chainsaws buzzing, limbs falling, debris flying, they had someone manning the grill.
When the job was done, they didn’t just pack up and leave.
They fed us.
Barbecue, rice, beans… I still think about those beans. Best I’ve ever had.
I don’t know who you people are, but I know what you’re about. You showed that to my family and friends yesterday and for that, I love you all with all of my heart.
If you are in the Greater San Antonio area and need lawn or tree service, it should be obvious who I’m referring you to.
Big Tex… I can’t thank you enough.
Much love to you wonderful souls!
That was the beginning of something. I didn’t know it then, but the Lord had just handed me a glimpse of the road ahead.
When the Seed Took Root
Fast forward to July 8, 2024. Another storm, another disaster. This time, it was Hurricane Beryl. She struck Matagorda County, centering herself over Sargent, Texas, where my mother moved from Rockport. I rallied help through social media. Support poured in… $1,500 in donations, tools, equipment, a BBQ pit, hundreds of pounds of meat from a local meat market, and seven strong men willing and ready to serve.
Their names matter…
Juan Loyola, Waylon Harrison, Ethan Huerta, Rick Naymick, Gabe Martinez, Hawk Sullivan, and Coby Rotan.
Max Cowey, from Hurricane Harvey, even called in, offering up tanks, tools, fuel, whatever we might need.
We rolled into Sargent on July 12th and got to work. But this wasn’t just about clearing wreckage. Our mornings began with breakfast off the pit and time in the Word. After breakfast, the labor kicked in, chainsaws buzzing, brush being dragged, debris piled high, and clothes soaked through with sweat. There was more than enough to do, and plenty of hands willing to do it.
The mantra:
You don’t have to move fast, you just gotta keep movin’.
Evenings brought a different kind of work: worship, guitars, and stories shared under the stars. What I didn’t expect and what left a huge mark was how deeply we connected with the people. As the smoke from the pit rose into the evening sky, neighbors began to gather. They came for food, but they stayed for the fellowship. I’ll never forget the evenings we shared around that BBQ pit listening to good, down to earth people… raw, real, and full of hope.
Eating from the Bread of Life is paramount when it comes to keeping the Spirit stoked and I try to eat from it in every moment. I could feel God working on us during our time in Sargent. It was in this space surrounded by the evidence of both destruction and resilience that the vision came to me: A fleet of black one-ton diesels dragging flatbed trailers that were carrying heavy equipment, an RV, a BBQ pit, all rumbling down the highway into disaster zones. The image was clear, no longer just men with chainsaws and rakes, but a fully equipped force, working swiftly and efficiently, in and out before anyone even knew our names.
I shared the vision with the crew:
“Right now, we’re moving house to house with chainsaws, rakes, and shovels. There will be a day when we’re moving city to city with bigger and better equipment; we’ll move with greater efficiency. We’ll get in, turn everything upside right, and get out before they even know our names.”
That experience burned itself into my heart, setting the stage for what was to come. God was making it plain.
The black trucks were highlighted to me. I didn’t know why, but black was specific. I asked God about it on more than one occasion. Nothing. No answer… but I knew one was coming.
We found this cross in a field on the only road out of town. We stood it up at the side of the road as a reminder…
When the work was done and we all returned home, I sent the boys a note…
Sargent, TX - A Letter to the Boys
July 14, 2024
As I sit here closing out this weekend, soaking the chafe away in an Epsom salt bath (yes, I’m in the candlelight too, boys) I can’t help but to thank God for the abundance in my life. Not the material things... I’ve had it, lost it and had it and lost it again... but rather the people, the relationships, the friendships, the brotherhood, the fellowship, the conversations, man... the list goes on.
You boys are all of that and I Love you for it.
I pray you never grow tired of hearing me sing your praises.
I pray you never lose your zeal for the Lord.
I pray you never lose sight of why we do the things we do.
I pray you always remember...
this isn’t about us...
It's about them.
Let us bring them ALL home.
We leave no one behind.
The lost are constantly seeking purpose. Not you. Each one of you has found yours... and it looks very similar to the rest of the gang. We’re servants, gents. That’s what we do. It’s who we are and who we will always be. Try as we may, we will never be able to run away from who we are. We are left with one option... we continue stepping into it until the Good Lord calls us home. Each one of you has a strong servant’s heart. Lean. Lean harder. It’s who you are. Your treasures are stored in Heaven... right where they belong.
I am proud; I am honored; I am privileged to be standing amongst you all. This is how the good fight is fought... This is how the good fight is won. Let us not stop. Let the fuel that we gained this weekend bleed into this week. You are standing right next to someone who needs the same help that our friends down in Sargent need. Let us charge forward and do what needs to be done in every moment.
My momma wants me to tell you all thank you and she Loves every one of you. She said this Word is for each of you:
The LORD bless you
and keep you;
the LORD make his face shine on you and be gracious to you;
the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace.
-Numbers 6:24-26
Don’t reply to this tonight.
Read it.
Let it sink in.
Coby... I think it’s supposed to be one of them long titled songs.
Something like...
You don't have to move fast, you just gotta keep movin’.
I Love you boys.
Sleep well.
The Vision Fades, Then the Whisper
After Sargent and especially after the vision, I just knew that I was supposed to create a disaster relief organization. I felt it in my bones. Through the months, the passion for such a project waned though. One day, it came to mind and I asked God why the excitement about it went away. Was I not supposed to move on this idea?
“Wait.”
Then came Monday, February 10, 2025.
Evan Lacombe, a brother in Christ, sent me a sketch of a lighthouse perched on a hill. He wanted to know if it meant anything to me.
Words from the Lord—Timing
At first, my attention was drawn to the tree in the drawing. It felt oddly placed, but during 2024, I received three different prophetic words about trees. Two of them spoken by different people at different times declared that I was like a great tree, discipling young saplings who would go out and spread the Gospel.
The third vision was more abstract, painting a picture of rolling green hills, much like the old Microsoft desktop background. A tree stood there as well, symbolizing divine strategy, innovation, and breakthrough. The message was clear:
The Lord is supplying opportunity. He is going to open doors for you that no man can shut. These doors, plans, are anointed. Something is about to be unlocked. You were made for such a time as this.
Then, someone spoke a new revelation:
You are the Lighthouse. Jesus is the Light. You are the house that carries His Light, shining for the world to see.
The Call to Gonzales
A few weeks passed, and on Thursday, February 27, 2025, I was training in my garage when something unexpected happened. While walking inside to grab a pen, I opened my phone. The Facebook app was open and staring at me was a post from Max. It was a public invitation to a men’s steak dinner at Eastside Baptist Church in Gonzales, Texas. As soon as I saw it, the Spirit stirred in me. I knew I was supposed to attend. I took the phone to Tiffany and without leading her, I asked her to take it to the Lord as she hears from Him in a much different way than I.
A little while later, I came back for her response:
"You're going to Gonzales, TX tonight."
My confirmation.
Without telling Max, I made the drive, planning to surprise him. When I arrived, Max was stunned. We hadn’t seen each other since the day we met in Rockport all those years before. But this wasn’t about nostalgia… This was a Divine appointment. This was supposed to happen and happen this way.
The Holy Spirit moved powerfully that night. A man came to Christ. Prayers were lifted, and at one point, I found myself on my face in the parking lot, overcome by the Holy Spirit. Powerful ministry and fellowship carried deep into the night in that parking lot. As we discussed the Armor of God with the man who gave his life to Christ, Max pulled out his phone to show him his home screen, a picture of a knight, fully armored, kneeling in reverence…The Armor of God.
Another Measure of the Lord
The next morning, I wrote a Facebook post reflecting on the night:
Friday, February 28th 2025
8:48am
The Good Lord randomly, but not so randomly, had me suit up and show up to Gonzales, TX last night.
I surprised my brother, Max Cowey, who I haven’t seen in person since he and an amazing squad of people showed up on my Momma’s street down in Rockport to clean up after Hurricane Harvey. That was almost 8 years ago.
You see, I made a post the other day about hearing directly from God. Yesterday, I told Tiffany Kilgore I was supposed to be in Gonzales. Without leading her, I said, “take this to the Lord and let me know what you hear.” I walked off knowing what I heard. Came back after a while and asked her what she heard. “You’re going to Gonzales, TX tonight.
As my ol friend, Gary Collins, would say… “when the Lord calls, suit up and show up.”
I got to see an ol friend last night. What started as a steak dinner turned into testimony, sermon, the Word of God being shared, a young man coming to Christ (Hell lost another one… Praise Jesus), and then…
This Harry White fella will not stop telling me how much he loves praying, how much he Loves talking with the Lord. He goes on and on. Testimony after testimony.
I interrupt at one point, “Can you do me a favor?”
Him, “What’s that?”
Me, “Will you walk outside with me and pray for me under those stars out there?”
He starts towards the door before I even finish my question.
These men, these Mighty Men, gathered around me. I look Harry right in the eyes, “I want another measure of the Lord. I want to swim in the deepest waters I can get into.”
He made sure I knew what I was asking for before beginning.
“Are you sure about that?”
I am. I’ve never been more certain in my life.
They go in. All of them.
A 17 year old young man is speaking in the Spirit. He whispers an unknown language in my ear as if he’s telling me a secret. The prayer ends. Harry starts talking again. I can’t hear him and he’s right in front of me. I can’t hear him because the young man hasn’t broken contact with me. His whispers in the Spirit language are completely drowning out Harry’s booming voice.
I feel as if I can’t stand anymore. I start leaning on the young man for support. I end up on the ground. All of their hands followed me down. I hear more Spirit languages. I hear the cries to the Lord. I feel like I’m vomiting up the remainder of the nonsense in my life. Birth pains. I can’t control the tension. I can’t control whatever is coming out of me.
I feel relief. I’m on my feet again… light as a feather. Praise Jesus.
I thought I had already been through this… but this was another level. I was pulled up to a higher place last night in the parking lot of a small Baptist church in beautiful Gonzales, TX.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you.
The last Thursday of the month, these men get together in fellowship at this little church. If you need a ride, you know where to find one. This little Tacoma of mine can fit four more people in it.
This is a picture of my boy Max. Tell me the Peace of the Lord isn’t all over this man! Let’s gooooo Max! Lesssss gooooo!!! I Love you, brother!
God bless.
Lighthouses Everywhere
The response was immediate.
A little after 10am Friday morning, Max called. As we spoke, the conversation turned to Evan’s drawing, to the Lighthouse. Suddenly, the revelation expanded… Max was a Lighthouse. I am a Lighthouse. We are all Lighthouses. Every believer, standing firm in Christ, shining His light, warning the world of danger, guiding the lost to the Safe Harbor.
While on the phone, I sent Max a picture of La Jument, the mighty lighthouse off the Northwest coast of France, famous for withstanding brutal storms and heavy wave movement.
Max looked at it, "How are they so strong? They get beat up by the waves day in and day out. How are they so strong? Why do they withstand incredible storms, and yet that Light just continues to burn?"
The weight of his words hung between us.
Just before 12pm, another call. This time my buddy, Rickey Shea. Rickey had just received what most would consider bad news, yet he wasn’t shaken. Instead, he seemed a bit confused by his own peace. It was a blessing and his Spirit knew it even if his flesh didn’t quite yet. After we said our goodbyes, I searched for Isaiah 54:17 to send him as a reminder that “no weapon formed against you shall prosper.” As I did, the La Jument picture was still open on my phone.
The Holy Spirit prompted: Send it to Rickey too.
I did, along with a voice message echoing Max’s words:
"You are a Lighthouse, Rickey Shea. You are a Lighthouse, my boy. You are withstanding all the storms, bro. All the storms. No weapon formed against you… Not even the power of the sea can take the Lighthouse down. The power of the sea cannot extinguish that Light…"
During these phone calls, Sam, the young man who had prayed over me the night before in the parking lot at Eastside Baptist, commented on my Facebook post. I responded:
“Yes, brother! Thank you again for ‘praying without ceasing,’ as Paul instructed. You’re a breaker, young man! Looking forward to our next encounter! Many blessings to you! ”
Minutes later, Sam replied:
"We were talking about our wallpapers on our phone last night… here’s mine."
He wanted to point out the “pray without ceasing” connection. What he didn’t know is that this Lighthouse theme had been a thing all morning long and dating back to Evan’s original prophetic drawing.
A lighthouse… of course. And the road pictured is eerily similar to the road on Evan’s drawing.
Later that day, I picked up my NIV—it’s not my main Bible as I use the King James, but I cross reference it on occasion. It had been a gift from my grandmother in October of 1998. Right in plain sight, but completely out of my sight… another Lighthouse.
At this point, the pattern, the message, the symbolism, was undeniable. Again and again, in a rather short period of time, the theme of the Lighthouse, the call to stand firm in Christ, to shine the Light, to weather the storms, kept emerging.
Black Trucks & Lighthouses
Over the 18 days that God was sending Lighthouses in my direction, He showed me why the fleet of trucks needed to be black.
After all of this time, my answer is here. A testament to timing and patience.
Put yourself in the shoes of someone who has just lost everything to a natural disaster.
In your darkest hour, when you’ve lost everything, a fleet of black trucks with Lighthouses painted on the doors show up to help turn your world upside right.
Black symbolizes the darkness you’re going through. The red and white Lighthouses symbolize Faith, Hope, Help, the Love of Jesus.
One Lord
March 7th, I am on the phone with Rickey explaining the Vision the Lord has given me. As I mention why the trucks need to be black and that they would have red and white Lighthouses painted on the sides of them, he yells, “STOP!” He’s a bit freaked out, circles a parking lot he was driving through, “You ever seen a red and white Texas license plate?” Me, “Not yet.” He takes a picture of a vehicle, and sends it to me…
A black vehicle with a red and white license plate that read “One Lord.”
Confirmation.
A Blueprint in the Making
The visions, the encounters, the confirmations—they weren’t isolated sparks. They were the beginning of a blueprint. Piece by piece, it started coming together in my Spirit.
I could see the 200 acres back in my family’s name, becoming the hub for disaster relief, but the more I sat with it, the more I realized this dream could play out anywhere. It’s His call. Strategically, it makes sense to keep the equipment stored more inland, safer from the paths of storms, and ready to move from the outside-in once disaster strikes, but again, it’s His call and we’re moving in Faith on this.
One day, I asked Him plainly:
“What are we going to do with all of the equipment outside of storm season? It can’t just sit in a barn somewhere not being used.”
He reminded me of Kenny’s words:
“The guy with the nice house? He owns a construction company that subsidizes his ranch.”
I’ve run heavy equipment. I’ve worked in construction. But I have no desire to run a construction company.
The Lord:
“But you’re good at making connections. You don’t have to run the company. We’ll find someone who will.”
Suddenly, it started clicking. A construction company to support the farm. A ranch to anchor the ministry. I began to see it all…
A meat market where we process our own line of cattle, pigs, chickens, and even wild game from local hunters.
A general store where we sell our goods and partner with local vendors.
A schoolhouse where kids learn reading, writing, math, science—and Jesus.
A chapel.
Cattle grazing, pigs rooting, chickens working the land, and guardian dogs keeping watch.
All of it modeled after Joel Salatin’s Polyface Farms. No one does it better.
All of this in the name of servanthood… To Glorify God. My momma always told me that He Loves to show off and I believe He Loves nothing more than to do it through His children. The vision is huge. Bigger than anything I’ve ever dreamed of. And honestly? It overwhelmed me.
I remember standing in my driveway one day.
I looked up:
“Lord… this is too big.”
But the Lord met me in that moment of doubt:
“Reverse engineer it. Take everything to its core. Pick the low-hanging fruit.”
“What can you do, not tomorrow, but right now, this second, to move the needle on ANY of this?”
And with that, I realized we were already moving.
“That’s right. Now, keep your eyes on me, stay moving, and let’s scale this thing.”
Training. In person, virtual, written programs, it’s what we’ve always done.
Plants. Compost. Worms. Egg Layers. Gardens. We’re already doing all of that. Propagating, seeding, transplanting… It's already been happening.
From there, the idea for a weekend home nursery and neighborhood market was born. Friends setting up tables in the drive to sell honey, tallow, food, crafts. People walking the garden, picking their own produce, buying seedlings, cuttings, and handmade goods. Worship music playing. Ministry happening. The Love of Christ on full display.
And through each small venture, every product sold, every person reached… the opportunity to give.
To build.
To grow Lighthouse Ministries.
It’s all up from here.