I was 15 and had just become a Christian. I had 8 weeks of Sunday gatherings under my belt and was still trying to wrap my head around Jesus, His love, the power of the cross, and why the church mattered. I was drinking in every word and song the church had to offer. I couldn’t believe people weren’t breaking down the doors to get in there. My rose-colored glasses were as clear as Caribbean waters and firmly attached to my naivety. This place was perfect!

Then my pastor resigned.

He read a pre-written letter after his sermon. I didn’t really understand what was happening. I had never witnessed a resignation. I noticed a few tears here and there. Mostly, people were mad.

It turns out our current pastor had only been leading the church for two years. In his resignation letter he described being “called” by the Lord to another church. He assured us he wanted to stay but he had to be obedient to God. It made sense. God was calling and he had to answer! Why, then, was everyone so mad?

LITTLE LIES

Being the new kid in church meant I hadn’t been inaugurated into the secret Christian language yet. I just assumed the pastor meant exactly what he said. He had been “called” by God to another church. It turns out that was a lie. Not a great big lie; just a little lie. We tell these all the time in the church. When Suzy tries out for the worship team and sounds like a wounded coyote, we praise her enthusiasm and tell her a spot isn’t available. A little lie designed to take the edge off a painful truth. We’ve all done it. Well, I’ve done it. Pastors do it all the time when they leave.

My pastor back in 1989 should have come clean and told us the truth–I’ve had my resume out for a while. That vacation I took last month was actually an interview weekend at Sweetgum Baptist Church. I preached. They voted. And they called me to be their next senior pastor.

Instead, he lied.

LEAVING WELL

It got me thinking about leaving too. Not that I have any intention of leaving my church family, but it got me thinking about how I might leave if that day ever comes. My initial thoughts seem reasonable and yet firmly counter-cultural to how pastors generally leave:

Let’s be honest. I’ve spent plenty of wasted time on pastor job websites when I’ve felt discouraged. It’s like porn to a pastor’s heart. Fantasy and dreaming and convincing my frail soul that things will be more vibrant and hopeful at Cool Church USA. So instead of lying and saying God called me, I’d like to have the courage to say to my leaders:

I’m really ragged and tired. My time may be up here. I don’t know. I’m not sure. But I wanted you to know I’m looking around and praying too. I put my resume out at Cool Church. I don’t know if they’re gonna call or not–I don’t think my jeans are tight enough. But I wanted to be honest with you . . .

That seems like a good start. Maybe an even better approach would be to Be honest earlier. When I’m feeling hurt and unhelpful and generally cranky with those who serve well; when I am spending unhealthy amounts of time dreaming about running and not leading, it might be good to have a conversation with my leaders. It might sound something like:

Guys, I’ve been sensing for a good year that I’m not helping move our church forward. We’ve been restless and a little ragged and wondering if we needed to create space for another leader. We aren’t taking this lightly. We’re not sure. We’d like you to pray and listen for God’s leading with us in this next season. We’re not planning on making any decisions without you. This is our church family too and we need your wisdom.

Lastly, I’d like to leave in a way that limits communal turbulence. Of course, this happens by being honest and being honest early; but it also happens by celebrating all that God has done in the time we’ve been leading. I hope to embrace all the changed lives. Count the babies born. Rejoice that the baptismal waters flowed. Delight in God’s faithfulness over the church. In my context, I hope it means a blow-out dance party. DJ and all. An open mic and a full box of Kleenex. This keeps the church feeling like a family. Cause, you know, it is. I promise not to pack a Uhaul at midnight. No exit by the cover of darkness. I’m not leaving with hurt feelings. And I’m not leaving without saying what needs to be said. Leaving doesn’t mean leaving a wake of bodies behind us.

If I leave, I leave in love.

Those are my thoughts. What’s been your experience? I’d love to hear how the church and pastors can do it better!