Changing Season

On December 15, I will step down as Lead Pastor of Restoration Church.  After a long season of prayer, counsel, and reflection, my wife and I came to understand that we had completed our assignment leading Restoration Church. Following our December 15 worship gathering, Gina and I will begin a new chapter in Southwest Florida, embarking on the second half of our marriage and ministry. Some might wonder, “What does that next season look like?” While I’ll share more about that later, right now, I want to reflect on 16 remarkable years of leading in the same place. 

Starting a church was the most challenging thing I’ve ever done professionally, second only to recognizing when it’s time to step aside. Through these 16 years, while there have been hurts and sorrows, they’re far outweighed by the joy of sustained ministry in one place. 

I recognize that not everyone is called to remain in one church for a long pastorate — scholars believe the Apostle Paul’s longest pastorate was three years. God’s assignment is unique for each person. But I’m profoundly grateful He allowed me to stay in one place to witness the Gospel’s beauty unfold with many of the same people over such an extended time. As I look back over my pastorate, several graces stand out. 

First, I experienced the grace of raising children in parish life. When we started Restoration, my twin sons were nine years old. Sundays meant early mornings, loading equipment into Dad’s truck, sitting through Dad’s sermons (which I’m sure seemed endless to them), patiently waiting as I talked with people, waiting still longer as we talked with people, only to load the truck again. Yet remarkably, this hard work didn’t push my sons away from church — it drew them closer. The men and women of our church showed my sons what authentic faith looks like: not perfect faith, but real faith expressed through hard work and pressing forward. This longevity provided living examples of both the fruit of faithfulness and the fruit of fallenness.  

Today, I see in my sons two men I would follow anywhere because they embody the joy and love found in Christ’s church; I understand the Apostle John’s words at a deeper level: “I have no greater joy than this: to hear that my children are walking in truth.” 

Second, I’ve experienced profound joy while walking through deep sorrow. As I said, starting Restoration Church was the hardest thing I have done professionally, but the hardest thing personally was preaching my father’s funeral. A decade has passed since Dad went to heaven — grief turned to sadness, and sadness gave way to peace. The journey of grief, lament, and healing takes time. And when you remain in a place long enough, you can process with people by retelling stories that need no explanation — “Remember when Dad barked at Wes about the coffee pot placement?” “Remember when Dad showed up late after his hole-in-one,” “Remember when he finally surrendered to Christ and wanted to be baptized in his Budweiser swim trunks.” Longevity allows memories to sweeten into laughter. 

Third, remaining in one place allows one to embrace one’s fragility. I started with hubris — and I still have some — but I hope it’s diminishing. I was confident in my theology, ecclesiology, and methodology (My convictions remain strong.) But I didn’t want to ask anyone for help because, after all, “I was right.” And then something happened — a natural disaster destroyed our building and brought me to the intersection of life and death. Standing waist-deep in icy water, never considering electrocution, I understood the words I still hated after 52 years — “I can’t.” I was forced to pick up the phone and say what is so hard, “Help me!” 

The following year and a half showed me the grace of staying in one place. Relationships from the past resurfaced to help. Churches of different denominations, convictions, and ethnicities cared for me, prayed for me, and sent me support — and the people of Restoration remained faithful. Longevity builds relational bonds that transcend time and distance; longevity allows us to peek into the joys that await us in eternity. 

Our transition from Restoration Church comes with a kaleidoscope of emotions. But the preeminent one is gratitude and thanksgiving for all we have been allowed to experience. Thank you to all those who pray, give, call, and care. Today, Gina and I know the “restoration of the Gospel more fully than we did 16 years ago.