Hello friends,

I pray you had a wonderful week.

Many of you emailed me about a similar theme: “where do we go from here?” Many of you find yourselves either pushed out or no longer being able to stay in the church community you’ve belonged to for so long. Many of you are struggling in the church community you currently are while others have left long ago.

Wherever you find yourself on this spectrum, I wanted to reflect on this question with you through the lens of my own personal experience. My hope is that we can find encouragement through one another’s stories and build one another up as we try to find a path forward together.

First, here are some resources to consider.

Recommended Resources:

-I was interviewed about my ministry transition out of the Church of the Nazarene by my dear friends over at The Millennial Pastor Podcast. You can listen to that interview here. ​

-I recently had a great conversation with Ken Kemp, who is the host of the podcast "The Beached White Male." In our conversation, we talked about my Christian upbringing in rural Idaho and the strong convictions I had then that I now consider to be myths. It was a powerful conversation for me and I was thankful to be invited. You can listen here.​

-I have had Brian McLaren's new book, "The Great Spiritual Migration: How the World's Largest Religion Is Seeking a Better Way to Be Christian." recommended to me several times. I am planning to read it very soon. It looks very intriguing to say the least. If you plan on reading it as well, let me know.

-Given today's topic, I can't help but recommend yet again, "Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church" by Rachel Held Evans. If you have struggled with your church in any way and haven't yet read this book, I highly encourage you to do so soon.

-Lastly, if you don't have a church home and are looking for even a temporary one, either in person or online, please feel free to join my community any time. You can find our online worship here between two campuses. You can hear my weekly sermons on our podcast here. If you have any questions along the way, please let me know.

Okay, onto today’s content.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The most painful moment in my ministry happened in 2021. I had been serving in the Church of the Nazarene as a licensed minister since 2005. After accomplishing all the required educational and experiential training, I was ordained as an elder in 2016.

I had come to the Church of the Nazarene at the end of high school, from Evangelicalism and Fundamentalism before that. I was drawn to it by the loving people I encountered at a local Nazarene church, especially through my experience as a teen in their youth group. As I continued to learn more about this church, I fell in love with the Wesleyan tradition and its leading with grace. I fell in love with its stance on ordaining women, something it had done since before women even had the right to vote in the United States. I fell in love with the fact that it got its name from the passage of scripture where Nathan said about Jesus, “can anything good come from Nazareth?” (John 1:46). The church of the Nazarene was going to be a church for the people thought nothing good about. Like Jesus.

I had felt a call to be a pastor since I was seven years old. Having gone through several serious church splits in my nondenominational upbringing, that call terrified me. So much of my Christian upbringing was defined by right wing dogma and what we were against as Christians. There was so much fear, so much anger, and so much animosity towards those who didn’t believe like we did. It simply felt like pastoral ministry was just full of anger, pain, and a battle for control. A battle to be “right.” Being a homeschooling family in rural Idaho, my family consistently felt the religious and cultural pressure to be on the far right of the political and theological spectrum. That leaning any other direction was a “slippery slope” into sin as well as losing our church community, our friends and our family. I didn't want that life for myself.

When I found the Church of the Nazarene, I finally felt like I could pursue my call. I couldn’t believe a church like that even existed. It was such a liberating and freeing experience. As I studied philosophy, theology, and ministry at Northwest Nazarene University, it felt like the first time I was truly taking ownership over my faith. It felt like the first time I was allowed to ask questions, let alone really controversial and difficult questions. The professors that walked along side me become more like pastors to me, discipling me through difficult conversations of faith, yet always in a kind and loving way. Even though they knew so much, they never came across as “this is the only way to believe this particular topic.” They didn’t tell us what to think. They taught us how to think and they wanted to think with us, through even tho most difficult topics. This is a value I carry with me still today. As a pastor and writer, I see my goal as not to tell people what to think, but to think with one another as we navigate the complexities of life together. I deeply believe that is the sacred, beautiful work of discipleship.

Then came 2020. With all that happened within Evangelicalism in the years prior, the blatant idolatry that was put on display for all the world to see, reaching a fever pitch on January 6th, 2020, Christianity in America was experiencing just as much polarization and division as the rest of the nation was. My friends, I can’t tell you how difficult it was pastoring in 2020. I was pastoring a small church of about 80 people in Boise, Idaho. Every single decision you made about the pandemic, social issues, and response to political events was deeply scrutinized and criticized. Nothing you did was going to make everyone in your church happy. Everyone had strong and passionate opinions about all that was happening and you as the pastor often became the person in the church those opinions were directed.

On top of that, you had to navigate conspiracy theories, an online ministry with no budget, people in the hospital you couldn’t visit, food scarcity, virtual funerals, trying to grieve with and comfort those who lost loved ones to the pandemic, right alongside being criticized by those who believed the pandemic was a hoax, all while trying to just hold onto hope yourself. I saw many pastors leave the ministry during this time. I thought about it constantly myself.

It was during 2019 that I started writing online publicly about the hopelessness and discouragement of this time period within Christianity. Especially as one who was raised Evangelical, I was lamenting deeply about the reputation Evangelicalism was giving of Christianity to our country, let along the rest of the world. I wrote a letter of lament to Evangelicalism that seemed to resonate with a lot of people and felt called to continue “thinking with others” through that time publicly online. You can read my letter of lament to Evangelicalism here.​

Coincidentally, as my online presence was growing, I felt this palpable shift with Nazarene leadership over me. Where there was once a congeniality and camaraderie was replaced with a cold distance. Early on my district superintendent took me to breakfast and explicitly told me to be careful about “the views” I was posting online, saying “you do know I follow you on social media” as if my relationship with Nazarene leadership was subject to change if I continued writing the way I was.

Things eventually went from bad to worse. I had terrible letters and public comments from Nazarene clergy sent to me consistently. I saw pastor friends of mine being targeted by Nazarene higher ups online and many starting to get pushed out of their position as pastor. Simply for trying to authentically pastor through such a polarizing and divisive time. At the same time, I saw many of my other Nazarene peers publicly proclaiming far right views, yet would not receive any repercussions to their ministry. It was made very clear to me at that time that one could lean as far right within the church of the Nazarene as they wanted with no repercussions, yet if anyone leaned even remotely to the left of center, they would have a target on their backs. It was clear that conservatism rather than Christianity was being defined as “orthodoxy.”

As one who was raised Fundamentalist and then Evangelical, it was unmistakable to see how both were now influencing the denomination I was pastoring within, yet it felt like I was only one of a few who could see it let alone willing to admit it. It was, and still is, deeply heartbreaking to watch.

In the midst of all this, I had met my now wife, Rebecca. We were planning to get married and my ministry assignment of over 7 years at the time would not enable me to support myself, let alone a family. I was working as both a pastor full time and an adjunct professor part time simply to keep my head above water. On top of everything else, I needed to make a change.

As I was looking, an offer came from the church I am at now. It is a United Methodist church and since the Church of the Nazarene is technically Methodist, having broke off from the Methodist church in the 1908, I as an ordained elder would be able to ask for a special assignment. Meaning, I could serve at this Methodist church, yet still retain my Nazarene credentials. Not to get overly detailed here, but when an ordained elder requests a special assignment, there’s an official process that needs to take place with our local board of ministry. None of which was followed. Not only was my request denied on the spot, but the district leadership team discussed my situation in an “executive session,” meaning I was not involved nor would I be able to hear how my case was discussed.

This heavy handed approach was because the local church I was requesting an assignment for was welcoming and affirming to the LGBTQ+ community. Yet, even though I was willing to remain under Nazarene guidelines and the Methodist church was willing to have me serve there, none of this seemed to matter. It was the public metrics that seemed to matter most. Even though I had given all of my adult life to the Church of the Nazarene, the public metrics of seeming to show any kind of flexibility towards an affirming church was more important than preserving one of their own pastors. Being against LGBTQ+ people was more important than being there for me. The decision was made to withdraw my credentials. I was told to submit even the physical pieces of paper to district leadership in order to be filed. I cannot tell you how painful and devastating it was to not only have this happen, but to take my ordination certificate that was given to me in a sacred rite during a worship service, only to have it withdrawn so callously.

At that point, I was number 21 in my friends group alone that this similar situation had happened to since Easter of 2020. After that, I have lost count. I have seen so many people I admire and respect, from pastors to deans of Nazarene Universities, being pushed out for for such similar reasons. It is such a grieving and painful thing to watch a church community you deeply loved devour itself alive like this. They are losing so many great people by the day.

Now, I couldn’t be more thankful for the denomination and church I now belong. They not only preserved and restored my credentials, they have supported me and my family in ways I will forever be grateful. I have since discovered that the United Methodist church is really where I belong, especially at the local church where I am now. While there is still so much pain left, I have been healed by this church and all those who call it home in so many ways.

So where do we go from here? I wish I had a full answer for this deeply important question. I think it would take an entire book to answer it well. But I will say, I think part of the answer, at least for me, is that where we go from here must never lead us to be as dogmatic, controlling, or unkind as the Christianity we have left behind. Where we go from here must never be allowed to repeat this same mistreatment towards others over the convictions we hold most dear. Where we go from here must be defined by humility, compassion, mercy, accountability, and justice, especially for the most vulnerable, which includes those who have been harmed by Christianity. Where we go from here must look like creating a sacred community that fosters thinking together over the complex issues of our time without resorting to fear and hostility towards others. Where we go from here must look like the messy work of inclusivity and love rather than the rigidity of religious and political legalism. Where we go from here must be defined by striving each day to love God and our neighbors better today than we did yesterday, all within the humble determination to grow more capable of love.

The pain of losing a church community something so painful that one doesn’t know how to describe it unless they have been through it themselves. I know many of you have. So above all, please know that I along with many of those who subscribe to this project, are walking this similar path together. You are not grieving or enduring this pain alone. For me, that is deeply encouraging. I hope it is for you as well.

Now I want to hear from you. Did you find this helpful in any way? How do you relate to the question “where do we go from here?” What encouragement have you found along the way? Reply to this and let me know your thoughts.

If you benefit from this project and would like to support it through a recurring gift, you can do so here: There's a $5/mo, $10/mo, and a $15/mo available.

If you’d like to support it through a one time gift, you can do that here: one-time-gift.​

Thank you all for reading and for all the ways you support me and this project every week.

-Ben

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