After five years of subsistence living, trying to plant a church, I’d had enough. The five years before this experience, we had experienced God’s sufficiency, even though many days were like manna in the wilderness—God’s provision was just enough. Just enough resources. Just enough encouragement. Just enough hope. But after five years of church planting, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was empty. I knew the church deserved more than my burned out heart could give. I also knew my family deserved more. With the blessing of my wife and children, I resigned with nowhere to go.
It was a season of lostness, but it also revealed ways that God enters our darkness.
The footprints disappeared
I had never been there before. Throughout my life, following Jesus had been a challenge not because of his direction, but because of my willingness. This time however, it was his direction (or the lack of it), that was the problem. It was like I woke up one morning and the footprints I had been following disappeared. I had no idea where to go or what to do.
I prayed. I fasted. I looked for jobs. I read the Scriptures. I did everything I knew to do. Nothing worked. Then I stopped doing everything I knew to do. That didn’t work either. I could not gain traction to move forward. I felt lost and felt all of the emotions that come with being lost. I was afraid, lonely, angry, and confused.
After five years of church planting, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was empty.
I landed a job working as a Bereavement Coordinator with a local hospice agency. It was the perfect job that I did not want. It was perfect because I was going through my own loss and was able to relate to grieving people on some level. No, I had not lost a spouse, but I had lost my job, a career, a church family, my call, and a web of friendships. I remember feeling a heavy sadness whenever I would think of the church plant. That church had been my dream and now it was gone. I remember crying on my drive to work on several occasions because of my disappointment. Very little about this season of life was anything I wanted.
Perhaps the greater despair I felt during this time was God’s silence. I felt like I was pursuing an ever-elusive lover. This pursuit of God reminded me of the guy who finally found the woman of his dreams. His heart was smitten with her beauty. He did everything to woo her to himself only to find that she spurned his every effort. Regardless of his attempts to win her heart, she refused him. Why was God aloof? After all, I had left everything to plant a church and what did I end up with? Nothing. And now God was keeping me at a distance?
I had left everything to plant a church and what did I end up with? Nothing. And now God was keeping me at a distance?
Had I sinned in an awful way? Had I disqualified myself as a pastor? Had he decided to bench me because of a significant character flaw? I prayed the confessions of Psalm 139 many times. If I had missed something, I wanted to know it.
Seth Barnes described such a season of his own life in his book, Kingdom Journeys. He found himself in a similar situation after starting a new ministry, describing it as a “dark phase.”
Somewhere in that desperate place, I cried out to God. All I seemed to get in response was silence. It confirmed what I’d always suspected, but was only coming to believe: we Christians could advertise a “personal relationship with Jesus Christ” until we were blue in the face, but whatever relationship I had with God was decidedly impersonal. What kind of friend doesn’t respond when you call on them?
I felt his pain. The silence was deafening. I was lost and nothing made sense.
And it lasted for years.
Living with a detached heart
It was during this season of lostness that Christ took me to the deep places of my heart, to uncover and heal the hidden and broken parts. It was like he pulled up to my house one day, smiled and said, “Get in. I want to take you somewhere.” So I did. He took me to my heart. I cringed when I saw it. I would have never gone there had he not taken me. I tried to get away, but the doors were locked. He refused to let me go. Instead he forced me to trust him in those deep places.
God was forcing me to discover who I was, and in the process he was doing a work of transformation.
When I did, I discovered that I was living with a detached heart. I had no idea who I was. I was comparing myself to others. I was trying to please people. I was unsure if I was enough. No one had ever tapped me on the chest and asked, “Hey! What’s going on in there? How’s your heart?” While it may be intuitive to many, self-awareness was a new place for me. God was forcing me to discover who I was, and in the process he was doing a work of transformation.
It was during this time that I discovered that God’s best gifts are not always given. Sometimes they are developed. Things like wisdom, courage, hope, and endurance flourish when life is an uphill climb. God had not forgotten or forsaken me. Instead he had chosen me. He wanted to take me to new places of beauty and strength. In order to get there, an internal transformation had to happen. Much like the butterfly coming out of the cocoon, I needed this struggle if I were to survive and eventually take flight. This lostness was how God was making me to become more.
Becoming more
Ephesians 3:20 became a lifeline for me. It reads that God is
… able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine according to his power that is at work within us.
More was on his heart for me. He desired to do immeasurably more through me, so he needed to do immeasurably more in me. This verse also clarified why I felt disoriented—God was working in my life in ways that my mind could not imagine. I could not grasp the depth of his immeasurable work. So when I would ask God why this was happening, his silence meant that my mind could not comprehend what he was doing. There was nothing he could say. All I could do was trust that his heart was for me.
This wisdom transformed me. The ways of God are too great for us to imagine sometimes. So we should not be surprised when we do not comprehend his plans and purposes. God often does his greatest work in the dark.
We should not be surprised when we do not comprehend his plans and purposes. God often does his greatest work in the dark.
In my darkness, something powerful was happening. Although my circumstances were not changing, I was becoming more than I was and more like he intended. Richard Hendrix once put it like this:
Second only to suffering, waiting may be the greatest teacher & trainer in godliness, maturity, & genuine spirituality most of us ever encounter.
The passage of time can have a powerful impact on us. As Jeff Goins wrote, “In the waiting we become.” God knew what I must lose in order to give me what I needed so I could become what he desired.
The “more” God was creating
What was the “more” God was creating in me? It showed up in several areas. Once I had a sense of self-awareness, I began to truly feel my emotions, especially the negative emotions. I knew I had been angry before, but I refused to feel it. After I found my heart, I was okay with being angry. I learned what endurance truly meant by pushing through obstacles. My faith developed thick skin. Also, I had greater confidence and clarity for my own life. I could move forward with purpose.
Self-awareness is an amazing gift that you don’t even know you need until you have it.
I returned to pastoring and could tell a difference in my role. I preached with greater compassion as I realized that many people in the audience were hurting. I no longer felt compelled to compare myself or my ministry with anyone else. My leadership came from a place of self-awareness, which I now see is critical for healthy and effective leadership.
LaRae Quy is a former FBI agent who spent 24 years as an undercover agent. She is a motivational speaker and author of Secrets of a Strong Mind. On her blog, she wrote:
Leadership begins with knowing who we are and what we believe. Authenticity is the need for leaders to be themselves regardless of the situation. For this reason, it is more than self-awareness; it is the ability to share the deepest and truest part of ourselves with others.
I have seen the absence of self-awareness many times in other leaders, but this time I saw it in me. God enabled me to let go of my fear and lead from a true heart of courage.
Self-awareness is an amazing gift that you don’t even know you need until you have it. Then you wonder how you got so far without it.
A marathon of the mind
Just recently I completed my first marathon. It was the most difficult thing I had ever done. It took me two years of training, but I finally did it. Do you know the part of my body that I had the hardest time getting in shape for it? It was my mind. I had to train my mind to think in marathon terms. That was the same challenge I faced when I got lost. God had to re-train my mind and he did when he allowed me this season of lostness and pushed me to finish this race.
If you are facing a stuck and silent season of faith, be encouraged. Something great—that you can’t see—just might be happening.
Your story is being written, and someday you will tell it.
Bruce Pittman has been a pastor for more than twenty years in Georgia and North Carolina. You can read more of his story in his book, Found My Heart When I Lost My Way.
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