Redefining Failure: A Pastor’s Reflection on Community and Commitment
In quiet moments of reflection, I often find myself revisiting the journey of church planting—an endeavor filled with both challenges and unexpected blessings. As I stand in the present, looking back on the experiences that shaped me and the community I sought to build, I’m reminded that even in what might seem like failure, there is profound meaning and lasting impact.
Recently, I invited a family I’m still connected with from my church-planting days to the church my family and I now attend. Sure enough, they started attending, and I was pleasantly surprised when, one Sunday, I saw another family from that church plant who they themselves had invited.
It’s been more than three years since the final gathering of the church start I led. It was a small church, with probably no more than 15-20 family units, and I haven’t kept in touch with many of the families involved—partly because of clergy ethics, but mostly due to my own life and busyness. However, as I reflected on these two families, I thought for a moment about some of the other people and families who were part of that church start.
There’s these two families, both seeking church community and involvement.
One leader and her family are working to lead their current mainline church into becoming open and affirming (LGBT+ inclusive).
Another leader serves on staff at an evangelical church.
Yet another leader is married to a mainline pastor and serves at her church.
Another faithful attender is involved with another area mainline church.
Of course, there are some families I know little about now, only seeing their posts occasionally on social media.
And, like any pastor, I’ve experienced the pain of at least one relationship that didn’t end on good terms.
Even still, within my local denomination, I’m often seen as a failure. I’ve heard through the grapevine that the word on me is that “I wasn’t cut out for the job.” In the time since, I haven’t received a single call from any of the several denominational churches in my area that have been looking for pastors in the years since. It probably doesn’t help that some active pastors are still spreading falsehoods about me and my church-planting effort. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been left for dead.
Regardless, I know the time, energy, and emotional investment I put into leading that church plant. I know what it cost me and my family. I know how hard it was to lead a new church during Covid.
Sure, there are things I would have done differently—mistakes made along the way.
But even now, I remain as committed as ever to the church as the gathered community of Christ on earth.
One of the gifts to come from that church-starting effort was my podcast, Future Christian, which I’ve sustained (with help) through four different jobs, some ministry-related, some not.
As someone who can be hard on myself, especially when reflecting on what could have been with that church start, I find comfort in knowing that these leaders and families are still seeking to follow the way of Jesus and find church community. If this is what it means to be a failure, I’ll take it every time.
I still believe in the church, and I’ll faithfully proclaim the importance of the gathered community of Christ as long as I live—whether as a paid professional or not. It warms my heart and encourages my spirit to know that perhaps, in some small way, that passion has rubbed off on these others.
Reflecting on my church-planting journey, I’m reminded that even in my perceived failures, there’s meaning. Seeing families from that time still seeking faith and community affirms my commitment to the church. If this is what failure looks like, I’ll embrace it every time.