I was sitting in a restaurant with an old pastor friend, catching up on the news. He asked about a church that had my resume.

"I made it to the final three," I said, then admitted, " … but I was passed over."

I started listing every church I'd talked to in the past dozen years. "I was one of seven over there. I made the final cut to two here … But none of them worked out," I added nonchalantly, "so I think I'll stay put for a while. No big deal."

He said, simply, "That must have really been painful."

To my surprise, tears came to my eyes. No one, not even my wife, had sensed the effect of multiplied rejections on my ego.

The first rejection

I'm in a great church, larger than most. I've served here for nearly fourteen years, and we've seen significant things happen.

The night the congregation voted on me, my wife and I were waiting across town in a restaurant. We got a phone call to return, and in the time we had been gone, they had decorated the church for a wedding. We walked in, ...