Yesterday morning I undertook the difficult task of resigning the pastorate of Middletown Springs Community Church. The last five years have been a tremendous joy to me and my family, and making that announcement was one of the most difficult things I've ever done.
I shared with my congregation that the sense of discontent I'd been feeling for more than a year had become gradually clearer and clearer to me as a matter of personal deficiency. This is always hard to admit. When I first began feeling overwhelmed, overburdened, over-tired, I simply assumed we were in a difficult ministry season. And we were. We still are. Our church has been through some tremendous suffering over the last couple of years, and with the growth we've experienced, new challenges and a higher pace of ministry with heavier demands have compounded the intense sorrow we've all been walking through.
But I eventually realized the problem was much deeper than that. It wasn't entirely out there. It was in here. The truth is that I reached my capacity in leading the church well. I'd come to believe that I'd brought the church as far as my gifts would allow. Now, nobody else was saying that. But I knew it was true. And I didn't know what to do with it.
I am not one to run. Especially since things have been going so well on the growth front. We have more than tripled in attendance the last five years, but even more importantly, we have seen an increase in souls saved by Christ and baptized, in young families and mature leaders moving to our area to join us on mission, and in forward-thinking vision, culminating largely in our efforts to plant a church in downtown Rutland, Vermont. So there's nothing to run from, really. Nobody's mad at me. There's no conflict pushing me out or great sin disqualifying me. There's just me. There's just me realizing, "I don't think I'm the right guy for what comes next." It's as if God has led me to the brink of the promised land and said, "You can't go in."
And while I was praying that God would change his mind—or just show me how to manage in the meantime—Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary called me. I was not looking to leave Vermont. I was not sending out resumes. I had been offered jobs before and have always flatly said "no" without thinking. But this time, I listened. I needed to. And the call was no less visionary, no less mission-minded, no less gospel-centered than my call to Middletown Springs. When I learned more about the seminary's plan to engage, equip, and encourage local church pastors, something stirred in me. Something clicked in place, as if the tricky combination in my heart had finally landed on that last digit. I see clearly that a door has opened to a new season of serving the church with more intensity and a greater fit.
In March, we will be moving to Kansas City so that I may serve full-time at Midwestern Seminary and College as the Director of Content Strategy and the Managing Editor of For The Church. There I will be leading a team of creatives and writers passionate about telling Midwestern's story and developing ministry resources for the church. I am thrilled about this transition, because I share Midwestern's love for the pastors who love their churches. They are the faithful, patient, unsung heroes in our day, and I am excited to serve them—as well as the young men who are becoming them.
I will continue to write and travel, speak and preach. We will seek out a local church to call home, a place to worship together as a family and to serve as the Lord leads, to be fed as I have fed. Lord willing, after some time, I would love to submit to some smaller role as shepherd according to my capacity. I do believe that is God's calling on my life. At this time, he is asking me to answer it in contributing to the growing ministry of Midwestern. (We will be releasing some major projects in the months ahead, so stay tuned.) If my work has blessed you in any way over the last few years, I ask that you'd pray for my wife and daughters, for me, and for the seminary, that through this work God's Son would be made more visible in the world and trusted as saving and satisfying.
And please pray for my church. Like my family, they are deeply saddened about this parting. Many in the congregation are shocked, confused. And as we all process this bittersweet transition together, I am planning over the next five months to continue pointing them to Christ with all the energy God works within me. Middletown Springs Community Church is unlike any church I've ever been privileged to call family. It has been an exceeding joy to be their shepherd for this relatively short time. They are, in the good sense, as Paul says, "my boast." I will miss them terribly, because I love them with my guts. And because they have loved me and my family in the same way.
When I finished my announcement yesterday morning, I began my planned exposition of 1 Corinthians 3:1-9. It's important stuff. Sometimes I am a planter, other times a waterer, but all the time I am "not anything" (v.7). Middletown Church is "God's field, God's building" (v.9). I am learning with my flock and through them, by the Spirit's power, how to point them to Jesus and get myself the heck out of the way. I hope God always grants me the grace to do that.
Christ the Lord is everything.