Fast forward a few years…
My wife and I had gotten married.
We had settled into a small local church.
During that time, I wasn’t afraid to challenge the status quo.
– I asked questions.
– I challenged assumptions.
– I invited change.
Whether because of immaturity, ignorance, or reasons beyond my control, I ended up hurting folks in the process. It wasn’t my intention, and the folks who chatted with me about it were quite generous.
With time, it became clear to me we’d never fully agree.
“No problem,” I thought. “That’s not the goal. I’ll simply make sure, to the best of my ability, that nobody can deny that I love them.”
I didn’t do it perfectly. In fact, I’m sure I missed the mark more than I know. And yet..
To me, it was the undeniable foundation of everything that Scripture taught, backed by Jesus. One of my strongest dissidents once told me, “The problem is that you’re not only persuasive, but you’re also likable!”
I took it as a compliment.
Over time, my wife and I were asked to take a 2-year licensure, with the possibility of serving long-term on the pastoral/leadership team.
We accepted. I filled out the required paperwork, and soon after, I joined the church’s leadership team. When I got assigned a preaching schedule, I joined Toastmasters and started honing my public speaking skills.
Life was humming along.
Not without glitches.
But it felt like positive momentum.
That is…
Until my position came up for review.
The denominational leadership reviewed my application with a fine-toothed comb. “You were vague on your position on divorce and remarriage.” The denomination held a minority view called “marriage permanence”.
Without boring you with the specifics…
I didn’t find the position to be airtight. It seemed to contradict bigger themes in Scripture, and what little research I did made me question the doctrine’s foundation.
I didn’t see a path of ‘honest inquiry’. I felt the need to study was to change ME, not to find the truth. I doubted that any argument would change the denominational position.
Over the next few months, I had conversations with the rest of the team, as well as multiple leaders within the denominational network about this topic.
I didn’t mind living with ambiguity. To me, it was a non-essential doctrine. As such, I didn’t have a strong sense of urgency to resolve the differences of perspective.
But that wasn’t true for everyone.
One January morning, I let the leadership team know that I needed to miss our regular meeting. My wife and I were in the middle of a particularly challenging situation with a foster placement, and I needed to be available for my family.
Sleep deprived as I was, I juggled family, work, and church responsibilities as best I could.
I never got the minutes for that meeting.
A few weeks later, the night before our next regular meeting, I got a heads up. “We’d like to discuss this topic at our meeting tomorrow.”
Fair enough.
I entered the meeting expecting a conversation. Instead, I was met with the simple message:
“You need to get off the fence. For you to be on the leadership team, you need to agree with our doctrinal position.”
A shock when through my body. I’d been completely caught off guard. I’d been prepared for a conversation, not an ultimatum.
I knew the issues was nuanced enough that I wouldn’t be able to ever fully agree with their position.
It was over. I left the meeting reeling.
In an bizarre state of loyal denial, I told myself (and others) that we’d mutually agreed for me to step off the leadership team.
It wasn’t true. It took me over a year to finally admit to myself that it wasn’t mutual.
I’d held my first real leadership position. And I’d been fired from it.
Not for reasons of incompetence. Not for reasons of moral failure. Not even for my immaturity.
But because I hadn’t been able to agree with a doctrinal position that, regardless of its accuracy, research would later show had political underpinnings.
And to be completely clear…
Many of those involved in the situation later told me…
“I’m sorry, I wish we had handled it differently.”
But nonetheless… The shift had happened.
Things weren’t the same for me after that.
I’d been overlooked for leadership.
I’d been trained for leadership.
I’d been fired from leadership.
I moved on from working in the cubicle…
I moved on from working in the nonprofit…
I moved on from working in the church…
I stepped into a new world… A new arena… A place where my skillset would be valued…
BUSINESS.
The question remained…
What if I appointed MYSELF as the leader?
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