This post may come across as odd (especially to those of you who might think that pastors are supposed to love the church all the time), but here goes nothing…

There are times that I wish God would step down out of heaven to do something that I wish I more pastors had the courage to do: close down and disband a congregation. In my mind I picture it as paying homage to Genesis Chapter 3 where God posts not just a “no trespassing” sign but also a cherubim with a flaming sword at the door. Overdramatic? I honestly don’t think so. Here’s why:

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably read about some of my experiences with a church in Southwest Missouri that I pastored for a short period of time last year. It’s been just over a year since my family endured the hardship that surrounded our departure from that congregation. I thought we were really getting to a point that we were able to say that we were moving past some of the hurt that we had experienced. This past week changed all that.

It started when my beautiful wife made a twitter post that said something to the effect of, “sometimes I miss Missouri.” What she meant was that every once in a while we both miss certain aspects of life in the Midwest. Life is slower there. People look at life differently. The seasons change. To this day, I still don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything quite like Missouri in October. It is simply breathtaking.

Upon reading that innocent post the then-associate pastor (who is now the not-so-coincidentally senior pastor) of the church was prompted to email my wife wishing us the best, saying that I am “talented” and “gifted” and that they hope there are no hard feelings about what happened a year ago…

Wait. What??? No hard feelings?? Of course there are hard feelings. It’s almost like he didn’t remember what happened. They didn’t rear-end my car. They uprooted my family. They contributed to a situation that nearly destroyed my faith and almost led to my leaving the ministry altogether. No hard feelings. Yeah, right.

Much to her credit, my wife responded (after letting my read his email), saying that we are still very much hurt and that, though she appreciated his attempt a cordiality, it was misplaced and ill-timed.

That’s when the crazy came out.

The former-associate pastor took this opportunity to tell my wife that she “obviously didn’t know the whole story” and that if we were honest wit ourselves we would be willing to admit that I was in the wrong.

Let me be the first to say: “I will own as much responsibility as is possible in this situation.” I was inexperienced. I was prideful. I was having difficulty dealing with the stress of the job (which included presiding over the funeral of a six-year-old). I am owning all of this and more.

But what really ticks me off is that at the end of his email, the “man of God” asked my wife to not share the email with me. I’ll just abbreviate it (since I believe most of you are God-fearing people): WTF, man?

So here’s my response. I am actively praying that God do one of two things:

1.) Bless that congregation in such a way that they become self-aware. That maybe, just maybe they would be able to finally make an impact in their community for the benefit of the Kingdom.

OR

2.) Shut that congregation down. That God would close their doors so that they might never hurt anyone ever again. That they would stop being such a gross misrepresentation of the Body of Christ that it ends up doing more damage to the Kingdom than good.

Am I taking this too far? I think not. Churches like this (and yes, I can admit that no church is perfect) should simply not exist. I’m not saying that the people should not exist. I’m just saying that for some reason, when these specific people get together “in Jesus’ name,” people end up getting hurt. That is not the God’s plan for His Body.

If you have been hurt. If you know someone who has been hurt. If you have been the one who has inflicted that pain. Please join me in praying for the Church. Pray that God redeem it or close it down.

I don’t know where you’re at, but I’m right here. If you’re here, too, the I’d love to talk you. I leave you hoping that the God of creation shows you even a glimpse of His redemptive plan for your life, His Church, and this world. Bless you.

Here is the third part of an assignment that I completed toward my M.A. in Theological Studies. It provides another small window into who I am and how I got here. Enjoy:

PART 3 of 3:

As I have journeyed to hone and shape my sense of call into a particular direction or outlet, I have had the incredible opportunity to serve in ministry with four congregations. In three of these, I have served primarily as minister to middle school and high school students, and at the other, I served as the senior pastor of the congregation. As a pastor to students (the vocation in which I now find myself), I have had the privilege of seeing young people come to a new understanding of God, much like I did when I was in college. In my high school years, I often found myself struggling to bridge the growing disconnect between the “God” I grew up with and the world in which I was living. As a pastor to students in the similar positions, I have had the blessing of helping students navigate these now familiar waters. I have never experienced anything that gives me such joy as seeing someone make the connection between God the Creator and the created world around him or her.

For a period of roughly six months, I answered what I still believe to be God’s call to serve a small congregation in southwest Missouri as their senior pastor. During that time, I hit road block after road block, suffered multiple setbacks, and experienced intense pain that I simply didn’t know how to handle. At the time, I struggled with understanding how God could call my family and me to experience such a hurtful period of time. While I still struggle with processing those six months, I now believe that God hadn’t called me to pain but rather to learning about myself. In Let Your Life Speak, Parker Palmer wrote, “To embrace weakness, liability, and darkness are a part of who I am give that part less sway over me, because all it ever wanted was to be acknowledged as part of my whole self” [1]. Until that point, I had only known pain as a result of not understanding God. I now know the pain that is associated with following God. My pain and my weakness are a part of me, and I now know that I won’t be separated from them simply for following where Christ leads.

In my eight years experience in vocational ministry, I have seen success and failure, and that has led me to a better understanding of where God may be calling me next. My greatest success has been with those who are far from God and have little (or largely misguided) understanding of how God might relate to them and the world around them. As my wife and I have prayed and sought God’s will for our future, we have come to believe that we will best serve the Kingdom by planting a new congregation that is specifically motivated at reaching those who have rejected God based on a misunderstanding of who He is. There are many people who, just like me, found that their “God” was simply not big enough to handle the world in which they live. It is my hope that those people come to know the God that not only created and sustains that world, but Who is also working to redeem it.

For a period of roughly six months, I answered what I still believe to be God’s call to serve a small congregation in southwest Missouri as their senior pastor. During that time, I hit road block after road block, suffered multiple setbacks, and experienced intense pain that I simply didn’t know how to handle. At the time, I struggled with understanding how God could call my family and me to experience such a hurtful period of time. While I still struggle with processing those six months, I now believe that God hadn’t called me to pain but rather to learning about myself. In Let Your Life Speak, Parker Palmer wrote, “To embrace weakness, liability, and darkness are a part of who I am give that part less sway over me, because all it ever wanted was to be acknowledged as part of my whole self” [1]. Until that point, I had only known pain as a result of not understanding God. I now know the pain that is associated with following God. My pain and my weakness are a part of me, and I now know that I won’t be separated from them simply for following where Christ leads.

In my eight years experience in vocational ministry, I have seen success and failure, and that has led me to a better understanding of where God may be calling me next. My greatest success has been with those who are far from God and have little (or largely misguided) understanding of how God might relate to them and the world around them. As my wife and I have prayed and sought God’s will for our future, we have come to believe that we will best serve the Kingdom by planting a new congregation that is specifically motivated at reaching those who have rejected God based on a misunderstanding of who He is. There are many people who, just like me, found that their “God” was simply not big enough to handle the world in which they live. It is my hope that those people come to know the God that not only created and sustains that world, but Who is also working to redeem it.

Here is the second part of an assignment that I completed toward my M.A. in Theological Studies. It provides another small window into who I am and how I got here. Enjoy:

PART 2 of 3:

I first made a proclamation of my faith in Jesus Christ when I was eleven years old. I also did the same with I was twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. I distinctly remember being eleven years old, sitting in the congregation at South Lakeland Church of God. Our pastor, a man who I still look to for guidance and encouragement, was preaching on sexual purity. I had no idea what it meant to be sexually impure, but I knew that Jesus had the ability to make me pure again. At the end of the service, I along with a few others twice my age, made a public proclamation of faith by going to the altar at the front of the sanctuary to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Looking back, the commitment I made that day was real, but I certainly didn’t have a clear understanding of what that commitment was nor how it would play out in my life.

Over the course of the next few years, as I mentioned earlier, I struggled often with the concept of God and how such a Divine Being might interact with me on the individual level. This led me to a (what I now know to be fairly common) pattern of commitment, doubt, and recommitment to Christ. Each time, these public commitments—usually at a summer camp or youth retreat—seemed genuine, but with my limited understanding of God’s grace and redemptive nature, I found myself constantly feeling as if I needed to reestablish my commitment much in the same way that Israel would reaffirm the Covenant after a period of wayward action.

During my high school years, I was given the opportunity to be a part of a traveling worship band that would lead worship for a different congregation each night of a two to three week tour during the summer. During each of the four years that I participated in this group, I was given various responsibilities ranging from managing the luggage on the bus to leading devotions for the group before our services. One night during my third year in the group, while leading the group through the passage of Scripture found in 1 Peter 2:9, which says, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9 NRSV), I was oddly struck by the reality that God had chosen me for pastoral service. Unsure of my reaction to the text, I asked a few others to pray for me and for specific confirmation that this was indeed what God was saying. To God’s glory, within only a few hours, I had three people whom I trusted (with whom I had not shared my experience) ask me if I had ever considered pursuing pastoral ministry as a vocation, and over the course of the next few weeks of the tour, that number had increased to well over twenty individual instances of someone suggesting that God might be preparing me for pastoral ministry.

When I returned home from the tour, I began to seriously consider the calling that I believed I had received. If vocational ministry was what God intended for my life, I knew that my limited (and largely misguided) understanding of God’s nature and God’s plan for grace would need to be replaced by a keen understanding of who God has shown Himself to be throughout Scriptures. It was then that I decided to enroll in our denomination’s undergraduate university (Warner University) to pursue a Bachelor’s Degree in Church Ministry with a minor in Biblical Studies. During my time there, I came to know God in ways that I previously had not known possible. I experienced grace that I never thought I deserved, I involved myself in Christ-centered community that I had not previously known existed, and I was given the opportunity to engage the Scriptures in such a way that they became both real and transformative. Looking back, it was during my time at Warner University that I truly met God for the first time.

Over the course of the next few years, as I mentioned earlier, I struggled often with the concept of God and how such a Divine Being might interact with me on the individual level. This led me to a (what I now know to be fairly common) pattern of commitment, doubt, and recommitment to Christ. Each time, these public commitments—usually at a summer camp or youth retreat—seemed genuine, but with my limited understanding of God’s grace and redemptive nature, I found myself constantly feeling as if I needed to reestablish my commitment much in the same way that Israel would reaffirm the Covenant after a period of wayward action.

During my high school years, I was given the opportunity to be a part of a traveling worship band that would lead worship for a different congregation each night of a two to three week tour during the summer. During each of the four years that I participated in this group, I was given various responsibilities ranging from managing the luggage on the bus to leading devotions for the group before our services. One night during my third year in the group, while leading the group through the passage of Scripture found in 1 Peter 2:9, which says, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9 NRSV), I was oddly struck by the reality that God had chosen me for pastoral service. Unsure of my reaction to the text, I asked a few others to pray for me and for specific confirmation that this was indeed what God was saying. To God’s glory, within only a few hours, I had three people whom I trusted (with whom I had not shared my experience) ask me if I had ever considered pursuing pastoral ministry as a vocation, and over the course of the next few weeks of the tour, that number had increased to well over twenty individual instances of someone suggesting that God might be preparing me for pastoral ministry.

When I returned home from the tour, I began to seriously consider the calling that I believed I had received. If vocational ministry was what God intended for my life, I knew that my limited (and largely misguided) understanding of God’s nature and God’s plan for grace would need to be replaced by a keen understanding of who God has shown Himself to be throughout Scriptures. It was then that I decided to enroll in our denomination’s undergraduate university (Warner University) to pursue a Bachelor’s Degree in Church Ministry with a minor in Biblical Studies. During my time there, I came to know God in ways that I previously had not known possible. I experienced grace that I never thought I deserved, I involved myself in Christ-centered community that I had not previously known existed, and I was given the opportunity to engage the Scriptures in such a way that they became both real and transformative. Looking back, it was during my time at Warner University that I truly met God for the first time.

Here is part of an assignment that I completed toward my M.A. in Theological Studies. It provides another small window into who I am and how I got here. Enjoy:

PART 1 of 3:

I grew up in a Christian home where I was taught that my faith in God was to be regarded above all other relationships and earthly attachments. From an early age, I recall being taught by my parents that my actions had consequences and that I was accountable for those actions, both to them and to God. As early as kindergarten I distinctly remember making choices as early as kindergarten that were based purely upon the answer to the question, “What would God think if He saw me doing this?” though I had little idea of who or what God was.

I was blessed to have had an excellent educational upbringing, experiencing a public education that I now know is far from standard. My teachers constantly pushed me to excel and to never settle for less than I was capable of achieving. Upon entering high school, as is true of most students I meet, many of my hollow beliefs started to no longer fit within the context of the world in which I found myself. The high school that I attended focused on providing its students with an international worldview, and I no longer felt that my shallow concept of “God” was no longer big enough to encompass all that I was experiencing.

For the first time in my life, I was being forced by the world around me to examine my own beliefs in regard to the larger, overarching story that was playing out in the world and cultures around me. No longer could I simply be satisfied knowing that God wanted me to be a good person that abstained from doing bad things (which basically summed up my understanding of the concept of righteousness vs. sinfulness). I had one teacher, in particular, who, though a self-proclaimed atheist, made it a point to encourage me to do whatever it would take to reconcile the differences between the God of the Bible and that diminished “God” that I had come to realize was wholly insufficient. It was at that point that I decided that I would begin to search for God in a way that could only produce one of two outcomes: I would either come to know the God of the Bible or I would forsake Him as imagined.

During this time, though I had my doubts about God’s existence or the claims that Scripture makes about the existence of such a being, I was blessed enough to be a part of a family and a church family that loved and supported me greatly. Although my questions and my doubts could have easily led me to a system of belief that was incompatible with the beliefs held by my support network, I am amazed at the constant encouragement I received during this time. Looking back, I now realize that perhaps the greatest contribution that my church and family made in helping me find the God that is big enough to handle the world in which I live was letting me know that I was loved no matter the outcome of my search. By providing a safe environment for me to question my beliefs, my church and family helped me to establish a relationship with God that I believe will only grow as I continue my journey.

I was blessed to have had an excellent educational upbringing, experiencing a public education that I now know is far from standard. My teachers constantly pushed me to excel and to never settle for less than I was capable of achieving. Upon entering high school, as is true of most students I meet, many of my hollow beliefs started to no longer fit within the context of the world in which I found myself. The high school that I attended focused on providing its students with an international worldview, and I no longer felt that my shallow concept of “God” was no longer big enough to encompass all that I was experiencing.

For the first time in my life, I was being forced by the world around me to examine my own beliefs in regard to the larger, overarching story that was playing out in the world and cultures around me. No longer could I simply be satisfied knowing that God wanted me to be a good person that abstained from doing bad things (which basically summed up my understanding of the concept of righteousness vs. sinfulness). I had one teacher, in particular, who, though a self-proclaimed atheist, made it a point to encourage me to do whatever it would take to reconcile the differences between the God of the Bible and that diminished “God” that I had come to realize was wholly insufficient. It was at that point that I decided that I would begin to search for God in a way that could only produce one of two outcomes: I would either come to know the God of the Bible or I would forsake Him as imagined.

During this time, though I had my doubts about God’s existence or the claims that Scripture makes about the existence of such a being, I was blessed enough to be a part of a family and a church family that loved and supported me greatly. Although my questions and my doubts could have easily led me to a system of belief that was incompatible with the beliefs held by my support network, I am amazed at the constant encouragement I received during this time. Looking back, I now realize that perhaps the greatest contribution that my church and family made in helping me find the God that is big enough to handle the world in which I live was letting me know that I was loved no matter the outcome of my search. By providing a safe environment for me to question my beliefs, my church and family helped me to establish a relationship with God that I believe will only grow as I continue my journey.

One year ago today, my world fell apart. I remember it vividly.

Earlier in the day, I had preached what I would then come to know as my last sermon as the Senior Pastor at a small church in South-West Missouri. I preached about our church’s need to reassert God’s purposes for the congregation and our need to commit to overcome the struggles associated with breaking out of the in-grown state into which the congregation had been settled for the majority of its 100 year existence. I knew it would be a difficult message for the congregation to hear, but I had little notion that it would cause the leadership of the church to call for my resignation.

That evening, we had already scheduled for a meeting of the Church Council (our governing body) so that we could discuss some upcoming issues surrounding our plans to hold a community Good Friday service. The meeting was originally scheduled for 4:00pm, but when I arrived, it was obvious that everyone else had already been there for quite some time. The air was pretty thick; I quickly became aware that something was going on.

Across from me was a couple that I genuinely would have considered our friends. We had eaten dinner with them at our house only a few weeks previous. They were the only couple in the church that actually gave my son a Christmas present. He was the head of the Finance Committee, and she was the head of the Women’s Ministry.

Also present at the table was our Associate Pastor of Youth. He was a few years older than me. I recently found out that he had been offered the Senior Pastor position before I arrived but had turned it down. He’s now the Senior Pastor. I’ll leave it to you to put two and two together on that one.

Next to the Associate Pastor was another husband and wife couple. This was the family with whom we stayed when we were candidacy weekend before I was hired. That weekend, they went out of their way to make us feel welcome, telling us many heartwarming stories (most of which, we found out later, ended up being false), sharing meals with us, and reassuring us of their belief that God was calling me to lead that small congregation. He was the Vice Chairman of the Church (the one with the anger issues about whom I wrote in this post) and she was the Sunday School Superintendent.

Also at the table was our Church Accountant, who happened to be the mother of our Sunday School Superintendant (yes, that makes three people around the table that are related so far). Another person around the table was our Head Usher. He is a kid that (at the time) was 19 years old. He’s now the Youth Pastor. They just installed him yesterday.

The only other person at the table (beside myself) was a person that wasn’t even on the Church Council, elected to nothing, but had served on the Church Council the last two times that someone had been asked to resign. As soon as I saw him, I knew what was about to happen.

The meeting started with the Vice-Chairman of the Church (guy with anger issues) making a broad statement to the Council that he was officially going on record that he was refusing to address me directly, as he felt that he “had nothing to say” to me (his words, not mine). He then proceeded to spend the rest of the meeting talking directly to me, becoming red in the face, but then about halfway through each outburst, he’d say something like “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.” I still don’t quite understand what he was going for with this type of dialogue, but in my mind, he was cementing my previous thoughts about his need to step down from all leadership roles due to his inability to control his anger.

The meeting mainly consisted of a few individuals (mainly the Sunday School Superintendent) making statements about my sermon, saying that I was off base saying that the congregation needed to move in a new direction (I had said that the church needed to become more focused on people that did not know Christ). They also said that I had been misleading the congregation about my desires to reach the community. Lastly, they brought up my desire to have our Vice President removed due to his anger issues. It was claimed that the real reason that I wanted him out was that I simply did not like him, and that since it was obvious that we could no longer work together, one of us needed to go. It was a unanimous decision that I was the person that need to go. I was then asked to resign.

I said, “No.”

I’m not really sure what I thought I would accomplish by refusing, but I was confident that the congregation would have at least been surprised to know that the pastor had been removed without their knowledge or consent, especially when the by-laws required a full congregation vote to call for the removal of the Pastor. I didn’t think I had done anything wrong, and I certainly didn’t think the demand for my resignation was warranted. As surprised as I was at what had just happened, it was what happened next that really threw me for a loop:

I was asked to surrender my key. I was also instructed that if I set foot on the property before a vote could take place, the local law enforcement would be contacted. I was also forbidden from contacting any member of the congregation. My world was quickly falling apart. I could not access my office (which contained mostly my own stuff), I could not talk to anyone (remember, I had only moved here six months ago, so most of the people I knew were from the church), and I was being threatened with legal action, which is even scarier because most of the people involved in the town’s legal system were related to people that were on our Church Council.

From that point forward, we became outcasts, and in a town of 2,000, that was not only noticeable, it was palpable. We couldn’t even go to the store for risk of running into a congregation member (or worse a Church Council member). Finally, a few days later, I called the Associate (now Senior) Pastor and asked for a private meeting where I tendered my resignation and asked to have the opportunity to clean out my office in peace before he notified the rest of the Church Council. To his credit, he gave me that opportunity.

A few weeks later, we left town. Now, if you’ve made it this far, you’re probably wondering what my wife, my family, and my friends (my actual friends) were wondering: Why did I change my mind?

I came to the realization that regardless of whether or not the congregation were allowed to hear both sides of the story, regardless of whether or not they were allowed to vote, and regardless of whether or not I was allowed to stay, I no longer was able to effectively pastor that congregation. My spirit was broken. My trust in the congregation was dashed. My desire to see them turn the corner and start making a difference in their community had vanished.

It’s a tough thing to say, but I’m finally ready to admit it here. Up to that point, my main concern was with the spiritual well-being and welfare of the congregation and the community that surrounded it. At the point that I was sitting at that table, I stopped caring about those men and women. I stopped believing that they had potential. I stopped believing that any of them would ever allow God to use them in any significant way. I stopped believing that the small church in South-West Missouri had anything to do with the God that I serve.

So then, how do I reconcile the fact that we still believe that God called us to move to that town? I think that God wanted us to learn what it was like to fail, what it is like to get hurt, and then what it is like to keep going.

My wife and I were hurt beyond belief by the events that transpired exactly one year ago today. I even took 8 months off from ministry to re-evaluate whether or not I was actually “called” to the ministry. In that time, I’ve learned to rely on people that I know actually love me. I have learned to trust in God. I have learned to better prepare myself for the calling that God has placed on my life.

In response to the events that happened on February 21, 2010, I am now serving in ministry as a Student Ministries Pastor at an incredible church and as the Campus Pastor for a private Christian high school and middle school, and I am continuing my education at an excellent seminary, where I hope to receive my Master of the Arts in Theological Studies in the next 2-3 years. And, perhaps better than any of those things, in response to the events that took place one year ago, I have decided to press forward without hesitation toward the calling that God has placed on my life and the life of my family.

If you have read this entire thing, I apologize for its length but not its content. I hope that my story, though painful for me to retell may give someone else the courage to press forward in a way that I could not at the time. May God bless your efforts, and may the Holy Spirit inhabit your deeds. Blessings to you (unless you live in South-West Missouri… Kidding! Just Kidding! I had to put some humor in here somewhere )

That evening, we had already scheduled for a meeting of the Church Council (our governing body) so that we could discuss some upcoming issues surrounding our plans to hold a community Good Friday service. The meeting was originally scheduled for 4:00pm, but when I arrived, it was obvious that everyone else had already been there for quite some time. The air was pretty thick; I quickly became aware that something was going on.

Across from me was a couple that I genuinely would have considered our friends. We had eaten dinner with them at our house only a few weeks previous. They were the only couple in the church that actually gave my son a Christmas present. He was the head of the Finance Committee, and she was the head of the Women’s Ministry.

Also present at the table was our Associate Pastor of Youth. He was a few years older than me. I recently found out that he had been offered the Senior Pastor position before I arrived but had turned it down. He’s now the Senior Pastor. I’ll leave it to you to put two and two together on that one.

Next to the Associate Pastor was another husband and wife couple. This was the family with whom we stayed when we were candidacy weekend before I was hired. That weekend, they went out of their way to make us feel welcome, telling us many heartwarming stories (most of which, we found out later, ended up being false), sharing meals with us, and reassuring us of their belief that God was calling me to lead that small congregation. He was the Vice Chairman of the Church (the one with the anger issues about whom I wrote in this post) and she was the Sunday School Superintendent.

Also at the table was our Church Accountant, who happened to be the mother of our Sunday School Superintendant (yes, that makes three people around the table that are related so far). Another person around the table was our Head Usher. He is a kid that (at the time) was 19 years old. He’s now the Youth Pastor. They just installed him yesterday.

The only other person at the table (beside myself) was a person that wasn’t even on the Church Council, elected to nothing, but had served on the Church Council the last two times that someone had been asked to resign. As soon as I saw him, I knew what was about to happen.

The meeting started with the Vice-Chairman of the Church (guy with anger issues) making a broad statement to the Council that he was officially going on record that he was refusing to address me directly, as he felt that he “had nothing to say” to me (his words, not mine). He then proceeded to spend the rest of the meeting talking directly to me, becoming red in the face, but then about halfway through each outburst, he’d say something like “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.” I still don’t quite understand what he was going for with this type of dialogue, but in my mind, he was cementing my previous thoughts about his need to step down from all leadership roles due to his inability to control his anger.

The meeting mainly consisted of a few individuals (mainly the Sunday School Superintendent) making statements about my sermon, saying that I was off base saying that the congregation needed to move in a new direction (I had said that the church needed to become more focused on people that did not know Christ). They also said that I had been misleading the congregation about my desires to reach the community. Lastly, they brought up my desire to have our Vice President removed due to his anger issues. It was claimed that the real reason that I wanted him out was that I simply did not like him, and that since it was obvious that we could no longer work together, one of us needed to go. It was a unanimous decision that I was the person that need to go. I was then asked to resign.

I said, “No.”

I’m not really sure what I thought I would accomplish by refusing, but I was confident that the congregation would have at least been surprised to know that the pastor had been removed without their knowledge or consent, especially when the by-laws required a full congregation vote to call for the removal of the Pastor. I didn’t think I had done anything wrong, and I certainly didn’t think the demand for my resignation was warranted. As surprised as I was at what had just happened, it was what happened next that really threw me for a loop:

I was asked to surrender my key. I was also instructed that if I set foot on the property before a vote could take place, the local law enforcement would be contacted. I was also forbidden from contacting any member of the congregation. My world was quickly falling apart. I could not access my office (which contained mostly my own stuff), I could not talk to anyone (remember, I had only moved here six months ago, so most of the people I knew were from the church), and I was being threatened with legal action, which is even scarier because most of the people involved in the town’s legal system were related to people that were on our Church Council.

From that point forward, we became outcasts, and in a town of 2,000, that was not only noticeable, it was palpable. We couldn’t even go to the store for risk of running into a congregation member (or worse a Church Council member). Finally, a few days later, I called the Associate (now Senior) Pastor and asked for a private meeting where I tendered my resignation and asked to have the opportunity to clean out my office in peace before he notified the rest of the Church Council. To his credit, he gave me that opportunity.

A few weeks later, we left town. Now, if you’ve made it this far, you’re probably wondering what my wife, my family, and my friends (my actual friends) were wondering: Why did I change my mind?

I came to the realization that regardless of whether or not the congregation were allowed to hear both sides of the story, regardless of whether or not they were allowed to vote, and regardless of whether or not I was allowed to stay, I no longer was able to effectively pastor that congregation. My spirit was broken. My trust in the congregation was dashed. My desire to see them turn the corner and start making a difference in their community had vanished.

It’s a tough thing to say, but I’m finally ready to admit it here. Up to that point, my main concern was with the spiritual well-being and welfare of the congregation and the community that surrounded it. At the point that I was sitting at that table, I stopped caring about those men and women. I stopped believing that they had potential. I stopped believing that any of them would ever allow God to use them in any significant way. I stopped believing that the small church in South-West Missouri had anything to do with the God that I serve.

So then, how do I reconcile the fact that we still believe that God called us to move to that town? I think that God wanted us to learn what it was like to fail, what it is like to get hurt, and then what it is like to keep going.

My wife and I were hurt beyond belief by the events that transpired exactly one year ago today. I even took 8 months off from ministry to re-evaluate whether or not I was actually “called” to the ministry. In that time, I’ve learned to rely on people that I know actually love me. I have learned to trust in God. I have learned to better prepare myself for the calling that God has placed on my life.

In response to the events that happened on February 21, 2010, I am now serving in ministry as a Student Ministries Pastor at an incredible church and as the Campus Pastor for a private Christian high school and middle school, and I am continuing my education at an excellent seminary, where I hope to receive my Master of the Arts in Theological Studies in the next 2-3 years. And, perhaps better than any of those things, in response to the events that took place one year ago, I have decided to press forward without hesitation toward the calling that God has placed on my life and the life of my family.

If you have read this entire thing, I apologize for its length but not its content. I hope that my story, though painful for me to retell may give someone else the courage to press forward in a way that I could not at the time. May God bless your efforts, and may the Holy Spirit inhabit your deeds. Blessings to you (unless you live in South-West Missouri… Kidding! Just Kidding! I had to put some humor in here somewhere )

In about 30 minutes, I will officially be starting a journey that will take about three years to complete and will have an effect on the the entirety of my life from this point forward. That’s big stuff to say the least. Anyway, I’m excited, and I’d appreciate your prayers and encouragement.

Blessings to anyone that might read this. May your day be filled with things that you didn’t expect and may those things have a lasting impact on your life.

For the past few weeks, we’ve been teaching our students about what it looks like for us to live in “Christian Community” in an age where most people have more facebook friends than actual friends. This has been an interesting topic considering the incredible rate at which facebook has proliferated our culture.

In a quick poll, we learned that most of our student have over 500 facebook friends. Personally, I have somewhere in the 300 range. But what does that mean? What does that number actually reflect? Does someone that has 500 facebook friends actually have a better quality of relationships than someone with only 300 facebook friends? Of course not, but this does cause us to ask some fairly self-reflective questions about the nature of these online relationships:

• Why are we drawn to these type of connections?
• What causes us to want to share personal details of our lives with hundreds (or even thousands) of people, most of whom are mere acquaintances at best?
• What is missing in this systems of relationships?

First, I believe that we are drawn to these types of connections because they mirror (though somewhat poorly) the relationships that we were designed to have with the rest of mankind, the earth, and our God. It’s pretty easy to see in the Book of Genesis that God created us to be more than simple, isolated individuals. We were meant to experience true community with each other, with nature, and with God in a way that seems to be missing in our world today (I don’t think it would be hard to argue that we simply don’t live in the Garden of Eden anymore). In the absence of this true communion, we are left to grasp at even the closest semblance of authentic relationships, which is where facebook friends come it.

As for why we would share even the most intimate details of our lives with complete strangers, I think that we need look no further than the complete acceptance that was experienced before the Fall. There were no expectations of Adam. Sure, he had a role to play, but it was his to play. He was, in many ways, the master of his domain (sorry for any images that this Seinfeldian reference may conjure). His primary role was to simply exist in communion with God, and for that reason, he experienced ultimate and complete acceptance from the Father. Today, we strive desperately for acceptance from the world around us, and often, we are willing to leave ourselves vulnerable (perhaps too vulnerable) in order to achieve it.

As for what is missing in this system of pseudo-relationships, I offer the simple answer of purpose. This lack of central purpose can best be seen when compared with the earliest believers in the Book of Acts. They were a community because of the purpose that was set forth by Jesus in Matthew 28. They all knew what their mission was, and they were learning to coordinate around a central purpose so that their mission might succeed. While facebook offers connection to many worthwhile causes, the central purpose seems to be to connect for the sake of connection. Christ offers us the opportunity to connect for the sake of the Kingdom. It seems to me that, though connection in and of itself is a good thing, without a more substantial and lasting, that connection is destined to become devoid of true community.

So there you have it. For what it’s worth, though facebook is an incredible tool (one that I use quite a bit), I think that its success is simply because it (perhaps more than most other worldly offerings) gives us the most taste of what we were meant to experience from the very beginning: A community of acceptance built on a lasting purpose.

From the very beginning, we were created with the express purpose of having a sincere, palpable relationship with God the Father. In Genesis, we see this in the Garden, and throughout Scripture, we see it as something lost, only to be reclaimed upon Christ’s return as foretold in the Gospels and the Revelation of John. Seeing that we live in a world that is post-fall and we are not yet in Eternity with Christ, that leaves us in a sort of in-between state of being that both leaves us yearning for what was lost and striving for what is promised.

Throughout history, God has made attempts to reclaim that lost relationship, though (mostly) due to the selfishness of man, that relationship has yet to be re-established. Some shining examples of God’s reaching out to mankind:

The Pillar of Cloud and Fire
Early in the story of the Exodus, we find that God appears to His people in the form of a Pillar of Cloud by day and a Pillar of Fire by night to guide and direct His people as to where and when they should travel. How incredible this sight must have been! And how reassuring to see a visible manifestation of God! But, that visible manifestation seemed to also be its own limitation. The people could see God. They could follow God, but there was no chance at true communion with Him.

The Temple (the Holy of Holies)
Once the Temple was built in Jerusalem, it was commonly (and rightly) believed that the home of God was now among His people. This marked the first time that mankind could really have steady interaction with the Father. This relationship with God soon also showed its limited nature in that interaction with God was limited to the High Priest and only at certain times of the year (usually only once). On top of this limitation, in order to be considered pure enough, the High Priest had to endure intense purification rituals and still had to fear that his life would be taken because his purity wasn’t complete.

The Word Becomes Flesh
In God’s most daring and riskiest attempt at relationship with man, we see that He empties Himself into human flesh, literally becoming one of us. This was the first time that God could be touched, talked to, and eaten with at the same time. This truly showed how badly God wanted this relationship to succeed. He even left Himself open to the vulnerabilities of man, the vulnerabilities that ultimately led to His death. And with His last breath, we see the limitation of this relationship, it wasn’t permanent. Jesus wasn’t meant to remain physically in Jerusalem forever. We find that in the end of the Gospels and the beginning of the Book of Acts, that Jesus (after His resurrection) ascends to Heaven, leaving earth and His disciples behind.

But where does that leave us? It is obvious that God wants to restore His relationship with us. He has shown this to be true throughout history. We are now living in a time where we anticipate Eternity, and Eternity that is defined by eliminating the limitations that we spoke of earlier. We will be in relationship with God in a way that is physical but also permanent. What a day that will be.

The most difficult thing about this is that Eternity is most likely not today. We still live in a broken world that is very much still reeling from the pain of the Fall. So then, what are we to do? We must continue to strive toward that relationship that will last for Eternity, and we must live as such. Our world is not getting any better, but one day, it will be made complete. May our desire for relationship with God give us the strength to help those around us see the love of God and His desire for true, lasting relationship with His creation.

• Amazon.com
• A philips head screwdriver
• Some patience
• The ability to say, “No, I’ll do it myself.”

You see, a few days ago, I went to our local Honda dealership for an oil change and tire rotation. As is customary during such visits, the technicians do their part in making sure that each part of the car is working properly. The problem with that is that this usually turns a $30 oil change into a $400 visit that usually takes somewhere between 3 and 4 hours.

In my case, the technician told me, among other things, that the cabin air filter needed to be changed and that it would cost about $80. Well, the main thing that started me down my frugal endeavor was that I simply didn’t have the time to wait for it to be done, so I declined. On my way home, I started getting curious about how much the supposed $80 air filter would cost for me to buy it and put it in myself, so I stopped at an autoparts store. The filter was going to cost me almost $30, saving a whopping $50. Sounds great, right? It gets better.

I pulled out my phone and checked Amazon.com to see how much it would cost to have one shipped to me, and that’s when I saw the filter I was looking for at an even better price. $16 shipped. Can’t beat that. Sure I had to wait two days for shipping, but let’s be honest, I’m pretty certain that my cabin air wasn’t going to become toxic in two days. So I waited.

Then just today (about a half hour ago, actually), I installed it myself. It took removing 17 screws (and the glove box and part of the dashboard), but I did it. And so can you. The more I think about it, anybody with a screwdriver and some patience could do what I did.

So, where else might you save some money? And more importantly, what will you do with the money you saved? Will you give it to the Church? Will you take your wife out for a nice dinner? Will you save it for retirement? Whatever it is, just be happy that it wasn’t spent having someone else do something that you could have done yourself.

As for me, part of this money will go toward our church’s sanctuary remodeling project (anything to get rid of the pews, right?), and as for the rest, well, my wife sure does like Chinese food.

• Yes, I know that every church has its issues and that this one was no different.
• Yes, I still believe that it was God’s will for us to pastor that congregation.
• No, I don’t believe that it was God’s will to see us hurt, but I do think that God has used this pain in a great way to show us His grace.
• Yes, I am still pissed.

It was the fall of 2009, and we were excitedly packing up our truck to move from the Sunshine State to the “much less sunshine state” (*a nickname that I came up with all on my own). We were ambitious, we were optimistic, we were naive. We believed that God was calling us to help a small congregation take what they called “the next step in the right direction to better accomplish God’s will for Newton County” (again, their words, not mine). My wife, who is my lasting support, and I spoke often of the challenges that we would likely face, but ultimately we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, and it’s probably for the better. Had we known, we probably wouldn’t have gone. Yes, we would have spared ourselves the pain, but we would have also missed out on untold blessing.

Fast-forward six months, and you’d see that our passion had turned to insecurity, our optimism had been turned to forced submission, and perhaps worst of all faith had been turned to fear. We had seen some pretty messed up stuff:

Only five weeks into the pastorate, I had witnessed the death of a six-year-old girl that died from injuries sustained in a single-car accident that resulted from her mother (a member of our congregation) falling asleep at the wheel and hitting the only oak tree within 500 yards. I then presided over the funeral (my first involving someone that I had known).

I married a young man and woman shotgun fashion as soon as her parents learned that she was pregnant with their second child (not sure why it took until the 2nd child for mom and dad to get upset, but it did). They said their “I do”s while wearing cowboy boots and their work clothes (I was actually wearing flipflops )

I counseled a man t0 step down from his leadership position (as head of the church council) after he exploded in anger at multiple people (including myself). I showed him passages from 1 Timothy 3 & Titus 1 and he agreed that an elder should not exhibit such anger.

I each of these situations, I can clearly see God, and I can clearly see the moving of the Holy Spirit. The problem is that too often, when the Holy Spirit is moving, people have this amazing way of really screwing things up. It’s the 3rd situation above to which I’m referring. You see, the problem happened when, after explaining my position and he agreeing with me, this man completely refused to step down from his position because “the church elected [him] to it” (his words, not mine). So I made it pretty clear that I was going to ask the church to reverse its decision to have him serve in that capacity. And then a remarkable thing happened:

They agreed with him.

Now, maybe someone can help me understand, but I’m still just not seeing it. This is a guy that on more than one occasion had me cornered in my office, scared that I was going to get punched in the face. His face would become so red. And what’s worse, only on the rarest of occasions could he even communicate what he was mad about. It got so bad at one point that I feared for my son’s safety (his wife ran the nursery on occasion), and asked my wife to keep him home from church. How is it possible that everyone agreed that he had an anger issue, but no one was willing to agree that he could no longer serve as an elder of the church?

Well, that’s hardly a question that I’ll answer today. I know that. I’m coming to grips with the fact that our six months in Missouri will yield lessons that we may not understand for another 50 years (or more). I only write this now because I am still waiting on my W-2 from this church. I was only employed there for 7 weeks in 2010, but the law is the law, and I have to report that income to Good ‘Ole Uncle Sam. It’s funny how the something as trivial (yep, I said it) as doing your taxes can stir up all kinds of pain and emotions from the past year.

Anyway, I have been in contact with the current Senior Pastor of the congregation (the same guy that used to be the associate pastor and who also sided with the man that has anger issues… don’t even get me started… ok, maybe I’ll touch on this one in my next post) and he assured me that it would be sent out by mid-January. Then he wrote me a week ago (right about a week past his self-imposed deadline) to let me know that he had lost my address.

So, I say all of this just to say that my hope is that if this congregation is unwilling to follow Scripture, hopefully they can follow U.S. tax code and have my W-2 postmarked by January 31st (yesterday). I’ll be sure to let you know. Thanks for indulging me on this rant.

May you be blessed in ways that you can’t understand. May you know your Father in heaven in ways you didn’t even know existed yesterday. And my the love of Jesus Christ fill your life from this day forward.