This article is part 3 in a series addressing forced termination from the ministry. In January 2019, my family and I began our walk through this dark valley, and these articles reflect that journey.
These articles are being published first at careforpastors.org, where I am part of the Blog/Content Writer team. Care for Pastors aims to provide the best possible care and counseling for pastors and their families. As this series continues to be published, you can read Part 1, Forced Termination and a Faithful Friend, and Part 2, How Is Your Soul? by following the links.
Last, what is forced termination? It is when a pastor resigns or is involuntarily dismissed due to no fault, moral failure, or dereliction of duty on the pastor’s part. It is brought about through the toxicity of a minority in the church. Granted, the enemy here is not the few but the Devil who works through the few to destroy a pastor, his family, and that local church.
I watched the people walking by—scores of people, many excited about what was in their shopping bags. Some were laughing and talking, some were on a mission, and others were getting their steps in as they lapped the mall. Where do all these people go when they leave? Home, of course! While the answer seemed obvious, the question haunted me. For the first time in my life, my family and I were homeless.
We had great memories of this mall. I had taken my whole family here for some last-minute Christmas shopping four weeks earlier. That was Christmas Eve. It was a beautiful and magical time for our family. The church had been very generous to us, so we told the kids they could pick out their gifts, and we would go home, wrap them, and that evening we would open them! It was like we were rolling around in a giant toy box, and we got to go home with some of the toys! It was an unforgettable afternoon.
A Dangerous Feeling
But this same generous church had now kicked us to the curb. We had been given ten days to get out of the parsonage. Sitting in the mall, watching people in what seemed like their perfect lives, I was exhausted. Yesterday was the ninth day, and we had put the last of what we owned in storage. Last night was spent in a hotel. This morning, upon checkout, we had no place to go. So where do we go? We went to the mall to regroup. As I watched the world passing me by, in all its carefree naivety towards my situation, a dangerous feeling slowly began curling its fingers around my soul.
This grip would tighten over the coming months, eventually becoming a death grip. It would take serious soul surgery if I were to survive. Thankfully, God had readied me for surgery. In my last article, How Is Your Soul?, you can read about how God prepped me for surgery. This grip had thrived on my inability to answer a tricky question. Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? If the world got to go home, why was mine taken away through forced termination? After all, I loved God and had loved His people—is this a sadistic thank you?
The Surgery
I remember the day the Great Physician wheeled me into the operating room. I was at my computer and stumbled across my sermon series, Plain Pain. The day I decided I was done with the ministry, I had archived all my ministry-related files in a hard-to-stumble-across spot on my hard drive. While I didn’t want to delete them, I never wanted to see them again. I didn’t want them to show up in any searches. I even purged my email and contacts. Yet, providentially, these files were staring me in the face: Plain Pain was my expositional study through Job. I was convicted by the irony of it all. I could not answer why God allowed bad things to happen to good people, yet I had preached verse-by-verse through Job twice!
As I fumbled around with my ministry files like they were hot potatoes, I stumbled across another sermon series I had preached, titled Considering Christ. This was my expositional study through Hebrews. At this point, the Holy Spirit pushed on the first domino, and the rest fell over verse-by-verse through Hebrews. Jesus was tempted in all points as we are, yet without sin (Hebrews 4:15). Jesus learned obedience by the things he suffered (Hebrews 5:8). Jesus suffered great hostility from sinners (Hebrews 12:2-3). I was convicted. Jesus was infinitely better than I was— indeed, a good and perfect person. Yet, God allowed Him to suffer far more than I did. With the scalpel of the Word of God, the Holy Spirit began skillfully cutting away at this dangerous feeling of bitterness, anger, and pride that gripped my soul.
I Can’t Unsee What I Saw!
As I woke up from soul surgery, I slammed my MacBook shut! I still did not want to see these files. Although this surgery was over, I would need time to heal. I would need rehab. Yet, I couldn’t unsee what I saw! I could not honestly ask why God allowed forced termination to happen to me without first asking why God allowed Jesus to suffer such evil, a sham for a trial, and the cruel death of the cross. He was good beyond comparison, yet the hosanna-shouting crowd turned and cried crucify Him, and He willingly bore that shame and suffered!
From this, over time, I saw that the One who called me into the ministry did so, having felt the cost of the ministry. Jesus, too, suffered to do the will of His Father. Because of this, Jesus knew what it was like for the foxes to have their dens while He had nowhere to lay His head. God wasn’t just “up there” insulated from my experience by thick jasper walls; He purposefully came down in great humility and entered into my experience to live through all the hurt, pain, and temptation I would ever face. He blazed the trail, not sparing Himself, then held out His hand and said follow Me through the deep waters; I will not let you drown. Stand beside Me in the fire; I will not let the flame consume you.
Today, as I think about that moment in the mall when that dangerous feeling of bitterness took root, I realize I failed to consider the full picture of Jesus, the Author and Perfector of my faith. I had fixed my eyes firmly on the mirage that everyone I saw around me had a perfect life and could go home. I became weary and fainted.
Worthy of Consideration?
Are you weary? Have you perhaps fainted? Have you been disillusioned by the unfair and cruel treatment from the church mob, who, while they never said outright “Crucify him,” got as close as they could and still looked “Christian?” Has this same dangerous feeling begun squeezing your soul?
I have found in Jesus a Friend, who is faithful and stands closer than any brother will or can through these dark waters and searing flames. He has suffered great hurt, like you and I have and do. He, too, bears the resulting scars. And though, in great weakness, we may have turned on Him, hurt Him, even denied Him, or perhaps have walked away from it all as Peter did, He is kind. He forgives, heals, and restores. Although we might slam our laptops shut—done with the ministry—it’s hard to unsee His genuine humility.
Will you consider Him? Maybe even reconsider Him? He is interceding for you at this very moment. He is right there with you in the worst of the flames. The dark waters may terrify you, but they will not overcome you. Will you let Him do some soul surgery? His skilled and pierced hands will not hurt you; they are full of healing. Does not the full picture of Jesus make Him worthy?