My Big Demotion

"Who aspires to be demoted?!" My friend asked, only half-joking.

He wasn't the only one wondering why I, a lead pastor, wished to return to my previous role as a pastor of discipleship. Even more unusual, I wanted to be "demoted" but remain at my church.

To understand this seemingly strange desire, you have to know a little more about my journey. I began serving at my current church as pastor of discipleship in 2006, just shy of the church's third birthday. Less than a year later, when the founding senior pastor resigned abruptly, I was thrust into the role of solo lead pastor, one I filled for six years.

It's not that I couldn't hack it. My preaching was well-received, and the church grew under my leadership. But the new role left me feeling uneasy. And I couldn't shake the unrest no matter how well I seemed to be doing.

I tried everything I knew to make the shoe fit. I surrounded myself with capable advisors, and carefully cultivated relationships with pastoral peers and mentors. I was coached and counseled. I read widely. But through the years, I knew deep down that I simply was not thriving in the lead role.

Preaching weekly was taking a high toll. Whereas other preachers spoke of how they "couldn't wait" to preach, I mostly couldn't wait till noon on Sunday! Preaching wasn't a joyless task for me, but it did involve dread and anxiety. I was honored to preach, but the weekly uphill battle exhausted me.

Leading solo was stressful, and I longed to be part of a team (without the unique pressures of being the top dog). Though we were a relatively healthy, growing church, I knew that my innate lack of decisiveness and strategic thinking were hindering our progress organizationally and exhausting me personally.

I'd proven that I could do the job, but this didn't mean that I should do so indefinitely. I was able to serve "for such a time as this," but I knew that being competent isn't the same as being called to a particular role over the long haul.

I was growing to embrace who I actually am: a pastor who cares for souls and equips people to do ministry—but not one who thrives in a solo lead role.

I'd had too many family dinners where I was physically present but mentally absent, preoccupied with the church. I have four kids under 10 years old. I didn't want to miss another day of these irreplaceable years.

Instead of being so consumed with Sundays, I wanted to turn my attention to making disciples between Sundays. Eventually I came to feel called away from the lead role back to my original role as pastor of discipleship.

The dam breaks

But it wasn't until last April that I knew what to do. In an intense two-day period, I had four crucial conversations: with a couple in our church, my mentor, an old acquaintance, and my wife.

On the first day, a couple carefully expressed serious concerns about my leadership and the direction of the church. This was a good but difficult conversation.

That night my mentor stopped by to check on me. He's a dear friend in ministry and I filled him in on my conversation earlier that day. As he so often has, he kindly affirmed the good work I've done here. But now, for the first time, he said it was probably time to move on. I'd done all I could, and should probably find another ministry role to which I would be better suited.

This was a lot to absorb in one day: first, the "wounds from a friend," and then the fatherly counsel to move on. I slept on it.

The next afternoon, I received a Facebook message from an old acquaintance from college, with whom I'd had no significant contact for 16 years. He wrote, "I think the Lord is telling me to take the next step in ministry." He wanted to talk by phone soon.

This seemed like more than a coincidence. As we spoke that night, something long dormant awakened inside me. It felt like hope. At the end of the hour-and-a-half conversation I suggested that perhaps the lead pastoral position he was seeking was here in Valparaiso, Indiana with me as his trusty sidekick.

He laughed. It hadn't occurred to him and didn't particularly interest him. Yet he said he'd pray about it.

Finally, I talked with my most trusted advisor. My wife, Ingrid, helped me to process everything as it all came to a head. I cried a lot in the days that followed. All the pressure, from all the stress of the past six years, came out. Inside me, the dam broke.

Now I knew. I needed to release my role as lead pastor. I felt liberated. I'd been too burdened for too long. It took a mini-breakdown to confirm my long-building suspicion that I needed to serve in a different capacity.

But I didn't feel released from my church.

Why stay?

That April phone call led to that old acquaintance taking the job as our new lead pastor. He's become the ministry partner that I've longed for.

But, truth be told, it'd be easier to go. I know of no pastor who, like me, has gone from senior to associate in the same church. It's a difficult transition.

After years as our primary leader, I'm learning to play a secondary role. As we find our way forward, other leaders have expressed displeasure with the status quo. It's hard not to interpret these as criticisms of my ministry as lead pastor.

But the difficulty is one reason I want to stay. These last couple years have been hard on us as a leadership team. We've struggled together with how to move forward. Relationships have been damaged, but we're already experiencing healing in this new season. Were I to leave now, opportunities for restoration would be lost.

I've been sought out for positions similar to my new role, by growing churches with surer financial footing. But I couldn't shake the sense of calling to this place, to these people. For now, at least, I relate to another youngish pastor, Timothy, who was urged "to stay there in Ephesus" (1 Tim. 1:3).

These are the people I've served for the better part of a decade now, and I find myself with no desire to leave them. Might I serve them better, in a role better suited to me? This hope fuels our experiment.

We believe that the confluence of my temperament, my relationship with the new leader, and my relationship with the congregation will advance our mission to make disciples and allow me to flourish once again in ministry here.

It's not easy, but it's better. I feel happier, lighter. The other day I told my wife "I love my job!" I hadn't said that for a long time.

I'm grateful to have grown over the past six years as a lead pastor, but I'm so glad to be back in my sweet spot, deployed to disciple people more directly and relationally.

And I'm glad my friend asked me, so succinctly, about my aspirations for demotion. It's helped me realize that whenever we step into whatever God has next for us, it's a promotion.

Jeff Cagwin is pastor of discipleship at BridgePoint Church in Valparaiso, Indiana. You can follow his blog or connect on Twitter (@JeffCagwin).