I recently made the difficult decision to step away from full-time pastoral ministry. It was not solely due to personal reasons, but also because of a renewed sense of calling that I could no longer ignore. The core of this newfound calling lies in my passion for creating resources that will equip and support fellow pastors as they navigate the imminent transformation of the church. We are on the cusp of a paradigm shift, moving away from the church growth model and mentality. I may not have the perfect name for the church of the future, but I do know that it will be characterized by simplicity, intentional localism, and a profound emphasis on building genuine relationships.

During my time as a senior pastor, I fervently sought guidance and assistance in leading my congregations through this monumental transition. I had to invest a lot of effort searching, often with minimal levels of success. It pains me to see that many of my colleagues in the pastoral community, within my own denomination no less, are grappling with the same struggle. Yet, instead of addressing the urgent need for change, our denomination and the Church in America is primarily giving attention and resources to cultural debates that have captured the public’s attention.

The truth is, the church is standing at a crossroads, at a point where it must alter its course to confront the sweeping cultural shifts that have dramatically reshaped the role of Christianity within our society. It is disheartening to witness such a lack of acknowledgment and support from those who should be at the forefront of driving this crucial conversation.

I am deeply familiar with countless individuals who are struggling with tension between their faith and the reality of their lives. Truth be told, I have discovered that my role as a pastor has flourished most profoundly when I have directed my efforts towards those who have felt marginalized within the church, compared to ministering to lifelong congregants.

As I reflect on this new calling, a vivid image that God has planted within my heart is that of the two disciples journeying along the Road to Emmaus, solemnly departing from Jerusalem with hearts burdened by confusion, disappointment, and an intense sense of anguish. It is not an absence of faith that plagues their minds, but rather a disconcerting state where they wrestle with an overwhelming uncertainty about what to truly believe. I cross paths with numerous individuals who find themselves traversing along that very road to Emmaus, and I must confess, I have embarked upon that journey myself during a particular season of my life.

As a pastor, it deeply saddens me to witness individuals who are earnestly striving to walk in the footsteps of Jesus, yet find themselves compelled to separate from the church. It is truly disheartening to observe how certain individuals, predominantly insecure men, who derive their power and sense of importance from the number of congregants within their building, launch unwarranted assaults on those who profess faith in Jesus but do not accept the current expression of the church.

After a long period of soul searching, where I found myself lamenting this harsh truth and grappling with the immense responsibility of my role as a local church pastor, a revelation washed over me like an electric jolt. It was my very own Vince Lombardi “this is a football” moment, where I realized, with a fervent passion burning inside me, that I needed to strip away all pretenses and get back to the core of my faith. It was during the chaos of the 2020 pandemic that a revelation washed over me. Witnessing countless individuals stubbornly reject essential public health measures and passionately chant “faith over fear” compelled me to contemplate a seemingly simple yet profound question: What is faith?

I preached a sermon in the summer of 2020 boldly proclaiming that faith and fear are not opposite ends on a spectrum, but rather intertwined forces that are more connected than we are comfortable with. In reflecting upon my own journey, I discovered that the most fear-inducing and heart-pounding moments I’ve ever experienced were the ones where I sought to live faithfully. These were not instances born from a lack of conviction, but rather courageous leaps of faith propelled by my desire to follow Jesus.

Had I lacked the faith to heed the call towards vocational ministry, for instance, I would have remained comfortably stagnant. Yet, my burning desire to follow in the footsteps of Jesus demanded a response, forcing me to confront my deep-seated fear of public speaking. Week after week I stepped behind the pulpit and faced my congregation, not because I felt comfortable, but because I wanted to be faithful. 

As I delved deeper into the meaning of faith, I began to realize that its essence had been misunderstood and misconstrued by many. Often, when people speak of faith, they are in fact referring to their own sense of comfort. When we equate comfort with faith, we perceive dark nights, hurts, failures, and disappointment as signs of a flawed faith. Our comfort is absent so our faith must be lacking. But when things are comfortable, we understand the peace and ease as a result of a great faith.  While I too have experienced the profound peace that accompanies a steadfast faith, it became clear to me that we have mixed up some important ideas. We misunderstand our personal comfort as a measure of our faith. This substitution is an unfortunate byproduct of the insidious prosperity gospel and the flawed ideology of church growth models.

And so, I find myself just wanting to share this message with anyone who will hear it. True faith does not promise a life devoid of trials or dilemmas. It is not a magic charm or a shortcut to eternal bliss. Faith demands something much greater. It beckons us to journey through the darkest valleys and climb the steepest mountains. It asks us to face our deepest fears, to stumble and fall, yet rise again with renewed determination. So let us not be deceived by the allure of false promises. Instead, let us embrace the intertwining of faith and fear, for it is in their harmonious dance that we discover strength for today and a bright hope for tomorrow.

For those who had faith and yet experienced unexpected suffering, failure, and disappointment I want to share this message with you.   God didn’t fail you. Your faith didn’t fail you.  The definition of faith that is confused with personal comfort is what is failing you.  And it will every time.  Faith is an unwavering allegiance, a sacred covenant between you and God. It necessitates a profound commitment to obedience. We might be even inclined to resist this definition. But faith rises above mere intellectual belief in God; it encompasses an unyielding determination to follow His ways. The sovereign ruler of the entire universe has extended an invitation to you, inviting you to embark on this awe-inspiring journey of faith alongside Him.

Undeniably, this path is not a stroll down an effortless road, nor is it a blissfully comfortable experience. But rest assured, it is profoundly good. It carries immeasurable significance that surpasses any earthly comforts. It’s worth every ounce of effort and sacrifice, even if  you must bear your own cross in order to follow in the footsteps of Jesus.

I pray that the church would become a community that cares for and encourages faithful followers of Jesus who are experiencing trials rather than being the one place where it is not okay to be honest about the challenges of living faithfully in a world of chaos and rebellion.

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This post started as a response to a podcast episode I was listening to at the gym. And let me tell you, seasoned pastors have a way of getting the most out of every word they write! So I turned it into a blog post as well.

The podcast episode that prompted this response can be found here: Voxology – The only way out is through

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