Leaving church staff: My Story
Undoubtedly, some of you reading this are looking for information. Some of you, we may have never interacted before, but you're curious about what I have to say. Others of you deeply care about me and my family, and you're reading this out of love and support.
I recognize that this is a diverse audience, so I want to begin by clarifying what I am not doing with this post. I am not writing to bash the Church—neither the global Church nor the local church where I served on staff. Jesus calls the Church His bride, and as broken and bruised as she may be, He still finds her beautiful. This is not a post to call out any individual or expose the inner workings of an organization. The purpose of these words is simply to share my story.
As word spreads and people learn of the termination of my employment, I have a strong conviction to leave no room for any speculation on whether or not there was a moral failure or sin issue of any type. As Paul says, I always strive to have a clear conscience toward God and men. (Acts 24:16) Additionally, I have the desire to make it very clear to those who trusted me as a pastor for the last almost 7 years, that I did not quit my job, I was terminated from my position, and it was quite unexpected.
Within this story are lessons—lessons for me, for the Church, and perhaps even for you, the reader. My hope is that it challenges you to ask questions, form your own opinion, and reflect on the ways we each fall short. My ultimate desire is for all of us, myself included, to repent and be made more into the image of Jesus.
Starting in 2019, I worked as a Students Pastor at one of the campuses of a multi-site church in southeastern Michigan. In the summer of 2022, I was invited to apply for the role of “Central Students Lead.” It was explained that this would be a 15-hour-a-week addendum to my current role description, and a part-time hire would be brought on to compensate for the shift in my workload.
Despite counsel from people close to me who advised caution, I believed in the leadership's vision and felt I had something valuable to offer. So, I applied.
In September 2022, I was offered the position. But I learned that due to financial constraints, the part-time support role was no longer an option. Once again, against advice of some of those close to me, I accepted the job with the understanding that we would revisit the role’s sustainability in a year.
By early spring 2023, I was drowning. I was managing both my campus role and the new central position, with no additional help. Just when I felt I couldn’t keep going, a close colleague was promoted to Central Family Ministries Lead and was an incredible advocate for me. With her help, I finally got approval to bring in a part-time hire and refocus the majority of my hours on my central duties. This felt like a small victory and momentum toward change and hope for a healthier ministry future.
However, this would unknowingly mark the beginning of the hardest two years of my ministry career.
The church uses live communicators at a majority of their campuses. And during this time, I was increasingly being scheduled to teach in the main services. Though I was told I wasn’t a “Teaching Pastor,” I was speaking two to three times a month. Despite warning signs that I was being stretched too thin, I kept saying yes. After all, these were good opportunities, right? If I wanted to grow in this area, how could I say no?
By May 2024, I was hanging on by a thread. My part-time hire was experiencing something deeply personal, which required me to pick up more responsibilities at the campus level. At the same time, the Campus Pastor, whom I reported to and had an awesome relationship with, was leaving for another ministry opportunity. Feeling overworked and the need to take control of my situation, I asked for my role to report to our Central Family Ministries Lead, since I knew her well, and it just made more sense organizationally, considering the majority of my hours were going to resourcing and leading my department. I was told that the change was approved, but later, I would find out that it wasn’t communicated through all the proper channels.
In the Summer of 2024, burnout crept in. I was helping lead summer camps for all seven locations, teaching multiple times a month, and had no help at the campus due to my part-time staff person being on leave, leaving me fully responsible for the student ministry at my campus. It felt like I was doing three jobs and none of them well.
I attempted one more Hail Mary pass to help my situation within my organization. I wrote up a proposal for a new job description that outlined the following: I keep my Central Department responsibilities, I keep and increase my teaching responsibilities, and I offload my campus responsibilities by hiring someone full time at the campus level. I even had a candidate in mind who could start running the ministry at the campus, so we could make the change rather quickly. I ran the proposal by the Central Family Ministry Director, who loved it and asked me to pitch it to executive leadership.
In October 2024, I met with the Central Family Ministry Director, whom I still thought was my supervisor, and two executive leaders to pitch the idea. I was told such a role would likely never exist within the organization, and I was also told that if my campus was struggling, my focus needed to shift back there.
Though the meeting left me discouraged, I left having been promised that I would retain my part-time hire, and so I committed myself to helping them integrate into the campus and refocusing on my campus ministry for the time being.
In December of 2024, I had my annual performance review with the Central Family Ministries Lead, the person I still believed to be my direct supervisor. My performance review went great, and I even got a raise out of it. As we were closing out the meeting, we were discussing my upcoming paternity leave. She confided in me that she was feeling overwhelmed. The church had an upcoming generosity campaign and there were some extra responsibilities that she was hoping to pass on to me once I came back from leave. To me it made sense. My part time hire was getting more and more acclimated to the ministry, it seemed like I would have more margin once I got back, so I agreed to refocus my attention towards the central department.
If you’ve made it this far, this is where everything begins to unravel.
April 24, 2025
I received a calendar invite from the new Campus Pastor at my home campus titled “Students Convo.” I thought nothing of it. When we met, the conversation began with small talk but quickly shifted.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
Confused, I replied, “No… should I be?”
“Well this is a hard conversation,” he said.
For the next 15 minutes, he shared that he did not know what value I brought to our campus, he revealed that he had been my supervisor since my conversation with leadership back in October 2024 and that I had failed to meet expectations—expectations that were never communicated to me, because our working relationship never resembled that of a supervisor and a direct report. He even blamed me for not scheduling one-on-ones with him, even though I didn’t know I was supposed to report to him. And, shouldn’t it be the supervisor’s role to ensure they’re meeting with their direct reports regularly?
He concluded by telling me that my time at the campus was over, using the verbiage that I was “released from my responsibilities at the campus” and we needed to talk about what I’d transition to next. He acknowledged that this would have ramifications on the majority of my job responsibilities and so he offered that I could remain on staff through the summer or leave immediately, if I had another job lined up, or a connection to one.
I was stunned.
I had just completed a positive performance review four months earlier with someone else, someone I thought was my boss. I told him, “I feel like I’m being pre-fired by someone I didn’t even know I reported to.”
He replied, “I understand how it could feel that way, but this isn’t a firing. We’re releasing you from your responsibilities so you can find a better fit.” He emphasized that this conversation had been approved by executive leadership, including the Senior Pastor. He ended the meeting by telling me to take the rest of the week off, until we could meet again to discuss how I decided to move forward with my “transition.”
In shock, I left the meeting and immediately called the Central Family Ministries Lead. She confirmed that the reporting change had happened months ago, but had assumed I knew. I hadn’t. No updated job description had been given, no clarifying conversations had been had. She continued to act as my boss—signing off on my performance review as a boss should, signing my reimbursements as a boss should, and meeting with me for monthly one-on-ones as a boss should.
In an effort to get answers, I messaged an Executive Pastor, someone the Campus Pastor stated was clued in on the conversation he had with me. I told this Executive Pastor that I was 50 minutes away from our central offices and I needed to meet with him immediately. He agreed to the meeting and also asked that we include an HR representative. When we finally met, I asked for permission to record the remainder of my conversations with leadership and they permitted me to do so. I shared with this Executive Pastor what had happened that day, and the entire timeline of my role and reporting history. The Executive Pastor acknowledged the process had been mishandled and even became emotional, saying, “I’m sorry for how our organization has treated you.” I mentioned to him that the Campus Pastor had told me he approved this conversation, so I asked, “Is this how you envisioned that conversation going?” his response was very clear: “No.” The Executive Pastor told me that it was supposed to be a “calling conversation” and not a firing.
The HR representative asked me, “Why would you even want to work here anymore?”
I was still reeling from the emotional roller coaster I was on all day long, and so I declined to answer that question, but it was a good question. Why would I want to continue to work at a place where I have been overworked, under communicated to, and essentially fallen victim to dysfunctional leadership.
In an effort to honor the Campus Pastor’s request and out of “care for me” I was asked to take the next week off and was even asked not to attend church at my home campus that Sunday. HR said they’d follow up on Monday.
April 29, 2025
The following Monday I was asked to meet with the HR representative and a different executive leader. This executive leader sat across the table from me, and began by apologizing for how this entire situation had been handled, “However,” she shared, “the damage had already been done and there was no undoing it.” I shared I felt as though I was collateral damage to unhealthy leadership. This executive leader even agreed with me, saying “in some ways, yes, you are collateral damage.” She stated that it would be in the best interest of the organization and myself to discontinue our professional relationship. Essentially I was terminated, though I would be paid through the summer. When I asked what accountability would be taken for the leadership who mishandled this situation, I was told it would happen, but specifics could not be shared.
They thanked me for my time on staff and they left the room.
Sitting alone in that conference room, I felt something unexpected: relief. I felt like I could breathe again. A weight had been lifted. And I truly believe the peace I experienced was the kind that surpasses all understanding, peace that can only come from God.
If you’ve read this far, it may seem like I lost my job due to dysfunctional leadership, and I believe that’s true. But this is only my perspective. If you call my former church your home, I encourage you to ask questions, have conversations, and come to your own conclusions. Because my story is just part of the story.
My hope out of sharing all of this, is for us to collectively do better. I hope the leadership of my former employer realizes that dysfunctional leadership starts at the top and trickles down. That clarity is kindness. That valuing employees isn’t just something you say, it’s something you demonstrate. That there is genuine accountability, repentance, and reconciliation needed to create better ministry environments for those who come after me.
I also hope that myself and you reading this can use this as an opportunity to, as Jesus puts it, “examine the plank in your own eye”. I said yes to things I probably shouldn’t have—sometimes out of pride, ambition, or the desire for influence. I wish I had relied more on the Spirit for discernment and listened more closely to wise counsel. If my failures along the way, of which I am sure there have been plenty, have hurt anyone, I want to say: I’m sorry.
Through it all, I rest in this truth: Jesus is still King. And despite our sin and shortcomings, He still calls His Church beautiful.
