Greg became our only other confidante besides Zoe and Todd when he called to ask after our well-being. We’d not mentioned the move to him—everything had happened rather quickly—and we invited him to dinner to tell him what was going on. He was tremendously supportive and offered to do whatever he could to help us, not that there was anything anyone could do besides pray.

In August, Jack announced on behalf of HAP that a new fund-raising plan had been created with the help of many corporations and generous donors who would match donations made by the general public over the course of the next year. The goal was to raise ten million dollars for AIDS and HIV research. Only a handful of us knew the real reason why Jack seemed so gripped by this project.

Once settled in our new home, we began to hold our meetings again with the fifteen or so people who still expressed an interest. I felt bad never having explained to them why we had suspended the meetings, but once we started again, it was as if we’d never stopped. We grew like crazy, and after four months Zoe and Todd opened their home to allow the group to split and make more room for newcomers. We were amazed every week at the number of people who showed up; God was obviously up to something.

As time passed, we found ourselves at the middle of a revolution in that small but powerful niche carved out in Southern California. Had people told us the effect our ministry would eventually have, we’d have laughed in their faces. HAP raised its ten million and did it again three years in a row with Jack at the helm. In addition to that organization, Jack and Todd co-led a group the four of us founded called Inside Job, a loose coalition of Bible studies and house churches like ours that existed specifically for the industry—many of which had actually spun off of the weekly meetings at both our house and Todd’s.

For two years Jack was able to keep up with the demands of both these groups, but a bout with bronchitis one winter forced him to cut back dramatically. He had been battling HIV for nearly six years, and while his prognosis had always been excellent, the bronchitis seemed to strip him of whatever strength had been keeping the HIV at bay. After that, his health started a slow but steady decline, and by the time Bree started first grade, his doctors were being optimistic at giving him two more years.