Let It Grow: How to Develop a Gospel-Shaped CultureНамуна

A Long Walk in the Rain

Not long after arriving in New England, I became aware of some grim realities. The church facility and finances were in dire condition. Our monthly deficit exceeded $20,000. The building needed more than one million dollars’ worth of work. In addition to this, my own family finances were in steep decline as the transition had resulted in significant loss.

My deep, dark pit was so overwhelming I couldn’t see daylight. Each Sunday morning, I would stand at the office window imagining that no cars would enter the parking lot that day. With each family that arrived, my heart leaped with a dash of hope. Sunday after Sunday, after concluding the morning message, I imagined nobody would come back.

Oh, the mind games Satan played.

Then there was the fateful moment when I discovered the monthly deficit and realized we were less than six months from total insolvency. The stark revelation hit like a ton of bricks. It was mid-fall. The clouds matched my soul. Into the evening, steady rain fell. To an ancient Israelite, this would have represented the favor of God in a dry and thirsty land, but to a pouty new pastor, this was liquid dreariness dousing the last remaining flickers of hope from the embers of my heart.

At about 9 p.m., I donned a rain jacket. “Where are you going?” Dana asked.

“For a walk.” My tone was flat. “Right now? In this rain?” she protested. “Yes, that’s just how I feel.” As I answered, I stepped into the night and began the long walk down the hill from our parsonage into the vast, crack-laden parking lot of our cavernous church. I walked a few miles in the rain that night. For the first half, I cried to God in confusion. I told Him this was too much.

An hour later, I returned to the dark parking lot. The lights had been inoperable for years. A thousand raindrops pelted my hood like a hoard of demon woodpeckers mocking me. The building itself cast a daunting shadow against the pale gray night as if to scream at me, You shall not pass! It was like a warped version of a Lord of the Rings epic—surreal. This may seem a bit overdramatized, but it’s true to how I felt that night. Then I did something almost embarrassing. I pointed to the broken building, looked up to the heavens, and shouted at God:

“God—that building is Yours. This church is Yours. This school is Yours. These people are Yours. And if You plan to save it, You’d better do it soon! I don’t have a plan for this level of impossibility. This is Your problem, and I yield. I’ll preach the gospel and call others to prayer. I’ll love Your people. I’ll pour myself into new disciples. But You must do something beyond us.”

My tone was desperate and cynical. My attitude held a few bits of faith mixed in with heaping mounds of doubt. My fear and self-cynicism were abundant. Then I said one more thing.

“God, if this is You breaking me a second time after cancer—if this is You bringing me here to ride over this cliff into insolvency with this church, to bear the blame for the failure—then I surrender. If I’m Noah and I preach, and nobody joins me on the ark, if I’m Jeremiah and nobody heeds my warnings, or if I’m Ezekiel and this is my riverbank in Babylon—I yield!

“Behold the servant of Jesus. Be it unto me according to your word” (paraphrase of Luke 1:38).

I let it go. And little did I realize, in so doing, I was also letting it grow. Perhaps He is calling you to the same decision. Cultivate health. Put growth back in Jesus’ hands. This is the arrangement most conducive to steady strength. I will go in the strength of the Lord God. (Psalm 71:16).

We hoped you enjoyed this devotional! It was based on the book Steady Strength: Reversing Ministry's Dangerous Drift Toward Depletion by pastor Cary Schmidt. Click here to purchase the book and continue learning how to develop resilience in ministry leadership.