The name Restoration didn't come from a marketing meeting.
It came from Psalm 23.
"He restores my soul." — verse 3
Not a slogan. A promise.
People being made whole
by a God who doesn't give up on them.
That's all we're doing here.
We didn't start with a building. We started with a question.
Our Founding Story
It started the way most honest things do.
Not with a vision statement. Not with a launch team.
With a few young people, some guitars, and a patch of woods.
Nobody planned it.
Somebody just said — what if we went out there and worshipped?
So they did.
And something happened that they didn't expect.
It felt real.
They came back. They told their friends.
No pressure — just come, if you want.
More people came. Then more.
What started as a gathering in the trees became a weekly thing —
unhurried, unscripted, alive.
People started sharing their stories.
What God was doing. What they were afraid of.
What they hoped might be true.
And here's what we've learned about stories:
they have a way of finding the people who need to hear them.
Restoration was never designed to be a church for people
who already have it figured out.
It was always meant to be a place where people who wouldn't feel
comfortable in a church could feel comfortable.
Where the person carrying the most weight might finally set it down.
Where the person who's been told their story doesn't matter
might find out it does.
We're an eclectic group.
A lot of us come from the recovery community.
Some come from places you'd never expect.
What holds us together isn't a program or a membership class.
It's a belief that people's stories matter —
and that a God who restores is still in the business of making things new.
Where We Are Now
We've moved three times.
Each building a little bigger than the last —
not because we were chasing growth,
but because people kept showing up,
and it turns out, you need a room for that.
On any given Sunday, somewhere between 80 and 140 people gather with us.
We know that's a wide range.
It reflects the beautiful unpredictability of a community still becoming.
We give over 30% of everything that comes in to missions — local and global.
That's not a strategy.
That's a statement about what we believe the church is actually for.
Here's what Sunday looks like:
At some point in the service, we stop.
We make space for anyone to share a prayer request or a testimony.
Then we pray — not from a distance, but up close.
Our people will stand with you, put their hands on your shoulders,
and ask God to meet you exactly where you are.
That still surprises people sometimes.
Honestly, it still surprises us.
That it keeps being real.
What's still becoming?
A lot, honestly.
We haven't arrived at some finished version of ourselves.
We're not sure that ever happens —
for people or for churches.
But we know why we're here.
We know what we're for.
And we know the God who started this thing
hasn't changed his mind about it.
That turns out to be enough.