Roughly a decade ago my wife and I found ourselves leading a rapidly growing church plant, adding additional services and staff, on the cusp of launching our second campus, and on the receiving end of lots of applause and attention. What most didn't know at the time was I was dying inside.
I heard lots of people talking about how great our church was but very few in the room talking about how great Jesus was.
I had done everything I had been trained to do. Now I found myself with a growing church, a seminary degree and even a national award from our denomination celebrating our "success."
But inside I knew we were lost.
To start, we hadn't spent adequate time thinking through things like spiritual formation, discipleship, or exactly what we'd do with people if and when with they showed up. I wrongly assumed if we divided people up into small groups to process together what was being preached that discipleship would just sort of happen.
It didn't.
So the Sunday gathering inevitably became the "win." And perhaps the worst possible thing happened: we grew. And we grew fast. We were led to think we were winning. But the deeper truth was we were losing in the things that mattered most. Our people weren't being formed in the way of Jesus. They were being formed in the things they had always been formed in: I, me, and mine. We were just the newest, hottest thing on the block.
I didn't have language for the amount of disappointment and lost-ness I felt in that season. I knew that if we kept this up for another ten years we would be a mile wide and an inch deep. We would certainly do lots of things in the name of Jesus. But we wouldn't be formed to look, smell, taste, feel or sound like him. I didn't know how to fix or undo what we had created.
It was about this time that God in his goodness brought people like Jeff Sorvik, Mike Jarrell and Alan Hirsch into my life. They helped give language to what we were experiencing and also give vision for an altogether different way.
The next few years were spent repenting of the church we'd planted and turning the ship. It turned out to be a beautiful and ultimately redemptive story. For which, I can't say how truly thankful I am and for each person who helped lead that church into a chapter of ministry that more reflected the kingdom and heart of the Father. But we also knew if ever we were given the chance to do it agin, we'd do things in an altogether different way.
A few years ago we finally got the chance to do just that. We decided to break all of the rules of contemporary church growth-ism. We opted for no Sunday event. No killer children's ministry. No slick sermon series. No fog machines. No pastor building a platform on the backs of his volunteers. No single voice leading the charge.
It was Small. Micro. Organic. Local. Neighborhood-based. Table-centered. Discipleship heavy and attractional-nada.
Some days it's been a dream. Other days it's been a nightmare.
If I'm being honest, 2022 was one of the hardest and most painful years I've had in twenty years of vocational ministry. And yet, I can never go back to what I'd been trained in. I think it safe to say that I am ruined for life. And I mean that in the best of ways.
This week I've been reflecting on our experience. Specifically, I've been thinking about what lessons I might share with others who are considering stepping away from this thing we've been doing in the states for the past 100+ years and calling "church" in order to form a new, or rather, ancient path.
Warning: these won't be painless, but I do hope they will be helpful:
1. Be Prepared To Be Disappointed By Churched People
Based on our experience and those shared by many others, churched people will at times be some of your greatest gifts and more often than not be some of your biggest liabilities.
To be fair, this isn't entirely their fault. At best, they've been lulled into passivity and apathy by previous church experiences. At worst, they've been conditioned to believe the gospel and the church are mostly about them. Their needs. Their preferences. Their comfort.
This is a really hard thing to undo.
It takes a powerful work of the Holy Spirit to help them unlearn and relearn much of what they've come to think they know up until now. And sadly, most aren't willing to change. Shoot, they're not even aware that change is needed.
They tend to mostly want more of what they've known with a little twist of different. They'll get excited about the idea of the vision, and most will sincerely want to be associated with an exciting new work of God, but they don't actually want to help build it. They are just unknowingly hoping it'll happen in their midst as they hang around doing what they've mostly done until this point: sit, watch, and perhaps give to the work that others are doing.
If you try to build a missional work with non-missional people, you are in for a world of hurt. I think that bears repeating. If you try to build a missional work with non-missional people, you are playing a losing game. You can't win. Your intentions may be good and you may believe the best of what they might become (my perpetual "blindspot"), but you are dreaming a dream for them that has not yet taken ahold of their heart. This is a lesson we've had to learn the hard way.
Again. And again.
My advice? Start in a different way. Don't fill a big room with churched people. You're just setting yourself up for heartache. Start small. Invite spiritual sojourners around your table. Make much of Jesus. Start there and see what God does.
All that said, I will also say this: don't say no for people who are genuinely hungry and teachable. Believe it or not, some of our favorite stories have come from those who were heavily churched but who have said yes and continue to say yes to Jesus. Just make sure to adjust your expectations accordingly. Most with a heavily churched background won't be willing to stick around long enough to see the fruit of what you're laboring in together.
It's too slow. It's too messy. It involves too much unlearning and relearning. In the end, it just costs too much.
For those just starting out, my advice would be to start small, suspend any activity that might be construed as weekend "church," open your table to people who are in different places than you are spiritually, and begin discipling them in the way of Jesus right where they are. Then wait and see who is there twelve months later. Those who are still there are your people. Build on them.
2. Consider No Longer Using The Word "Church"
This something my good friend Mike Jarrell said recently and I have to admit it rings true. And listen, I love Jesus' church. I've committed most of my adult life to her. And I will serve her until the day I die. I love the church. And when the church is truly the church in the way I believe Jesus imagined her, there is nothing more transformative or beautiful. But the word "church" has come to mean something altogether different in America. For churched people, it brings with it loads of expectations and assumptions. For unchurched people, it typically brings with it an equal load of indifference or hurt. I think we may need to table the word for a while. Perhaps instead we should just starting talking about friends following Jesus and serving others together.
3. Figure Out The Money Thing Before You Begin
The harsh truth for those of us who went to seminary and were trained in the traditional American church is that we have been thoroughly prepared to lead a model of church that an increasing number of our peers no longer find desirable or meaningful.
This has big implications for leaders financially.
You either pander to the shrinking slice of the American church pie that wants the Sunday morning experience and accompanied programs (and are willing to pay for it), or you find a different way.
If you're going to find a different way, I highly recommend you do so before you begin. Trying to figure it out somewhere down the road is not impossible, but it will be hard as you try to balance the demands of ministry responsibilities and family life, and you will inevitably lose people as you do.
After twenty years of full-time vocational ministry, I have decided to find a different way. There are many reasons for this, but I'll share just a few big ones:
+ I'm excited to begin a new season of learning some things I couldn't have learned otherwise.
Alan Hirsch once said, "It is hard to get someone to understand something when their salary depends on them 'not' understanding it." I have had numerous seasons of ministry when I've put my head down and done things simply because the job required it, not because it was right, healthy or effective. I think this is something that probably every full-time pastor can relate to. We justify it in all kinds of ways but if we're really honest with ourselves, there is a part of our head, heart and soul that needs to be shut off to keep it up. One can do this for a season but when it becomes more than a season, the head, heart and soul just need to remain off to get through the day, week, month, year, decade.... I am really looking forward to being in a position in which I never have to do that again.
+ I've found that attractional ministry paves the way for transactional relationships.
Often without even knowing we are doing it, we prioritize investing in people who give us something in return. They typically get our time because they currently (or may in the future) give money, prop up our church's platform or help run our programs. If people don't fit into one of these categories, they are rarely a priority. I know I've been guilty of this at times. And what else are we do? It takes people to keep the machine running. And the machine needs to keep running because it brings in the funds and those funds put food on the pastor's table.
But what if we could change that? What if the pastor was free from this burden and what if the church was free of the burden of paying the pastoral staff's full-time salaries, benefits, etc? What else might the church do with those funds? And how might the pastor change the way he or she spends their time?
I am really excited to explore the answers to these questions.
+ I believe bivocational and covocational ministry is the future.
I confess that when a wide-eyed young adult tells me they are thinking about getting a degree in theology or youth ministry I rather passionately try to talk them out of it. It's not that we don't need good theologians or gifted disciplemakers of young people, it's that one doesn't need a degree to do it. Add to this the tough reality that the privilege of getting paid to do these things is going away. The jobs are disappearing.
And I'm not convinced this is a bad thing.
We need more passionate, Jesus-loving disciplemakers in the marketplace. We need more men and women who are really good at their jobs and who do it as an everyday act of worship. We need more people who embody the fruits of the Spirit while rubbing shoulders with people who may never walk through the doors of our churches. Many churches, leaders and followers of Jesus in places like Europe, Africa, China and South America have already figured this out. It's our turn.
4. Know That Christ-like Ministry Involves Lots Of Bleeding
If you feel called to do ministry in the way of Jesus, prepare to bleed.
I don't think it any coincidence that Jesus warned his followers that following in his way would involve suffering. God in the flesh showed us how it's done and in the end it got him killed. I think the surprise for many who are coming from a vocational ministry background will be that more often than not, it won't be the irreligious who will crucify you. It will be the people you assumed were on your side.
The people you assumed would be champions of the cause will be the first to turn on you. You will bleed in your fighting for them. You will bleed in your doing everything you can to help them turn the corner from what they've always assumed to be true into the light of the gospel. There will be many who simply don't want it.
But it doesn't end there.
If you fight and advocate for those who don't yet know Jesus, there will be another kind of bleeding. You will create parenting programs for struggling families who stop showing up or things like a global pandemic shut down, you will invite people around your table who are struggling with mental health who will ultimately choose to take their life, there will be marriages you enter into and give the greatest care you have to give that will still call it quits, there will be homeless for which you do everything you can imagine to help them get on their feet that will return to addiction, there will be teachers and administrators that you partner with that will suddenly pass on or ultimately cast you aside, and there will be many you invest time, money, meals and love in who will give you no ROI.
This is living on mission.
The first group you will learn to deal with. The second group, if God has awakened your heart, will forever be a part of your journey. And the needs will always outweigh what you have to give.
I get why people return to what they know - to the safe confines of suburban ministry in Sunday-based churches.
It's safer. It costs less. It hurts less.
But I believe with everything in me that if Jesus showed up tomorrow in our neighborhood, he would prioritize time with the latter group. He would be in the midst of the hurt and the pain and the mess.
If this is true, so then should we.
But this will require a rewiring of our hearts and minds. It will require that we make peace with investing the best we have to give in people that may never show up to or prop up our ministry. We must come to the conclusion on a visceral level that they are created in the image of God, are worth Christ's dying for, and are therefore worth the best that we have to give, even if they never show up to our "thing."
So whether you hone in on repurposing churched people, or creating safe spaces for spiritual sojourners, both will involve lots and lots of bleeding. Your job as a minister of the gospel is to die to self everyday.
This isn't a career move. This is your call. If you're not at peace with that, then you may want to do something else with your life.
5. Find A Missionary Tribe That Understands
I am blessed to have some ministry friends in more traditional forms of church cheering us on. Sadly, not everyone can say that. There will be some who view what you do as a threat. Some will assume that because you are laboring to forge a different way that you stand opposed to the only thing they've ever known. Others will say awful and untrue things about you. Many will disown you along the way. And many more will look at your work with indifference. All said, it can be very lonely.
It is imperative that you don't do this alone.
While most can agree with this in principle, I've found that many missional types still are largely journeying alone. Friends, if I can say a word to you: this is a recipe for disaster. We weren't created to do any of this alone. You need others who understand the unique struggles involved with pioneering a missional work.
For me, this has been the Creo Collective. They have been the thing in my life that has consistently kept me true to the heart of Jesus and to the mission we are called into. They've kept me from compromising the vision when ministry shortcuts seemed awfully attractive. In short, they've kept me pointed true north.
We all need people like this in our lives. We need some inside of the communities we lead but I think we also need some on the outside as well. If you don't have others like this around you, please reach out. I'd love to connect you with some of the best people I know doing pioneering works all over the globe.
You’re not alone. And you’re not crazy.
Well, you may be a little crazy, but you’re not alone in your crazy. There’s a whole tribe of us. Reach out.
This article was originally posted at www.commonpastor.org. Aaron Loy serves as founding and lead pastor of Commonwealth in Knoxville, TN. He also serves as a founding movement team member of the Creo Collective.