interpreted it as a lack of confidence
in me, and perhaps it was. But it was
also someone simply trying to figure
out why things kept going so sideways.
We agreed that we needed a time
of mutual discernment, to see if we
should keep pursuing this idea of
succession with me.
I’ll never forget a conversation with
a mentor of mine, while sitting by
a large, ancient tree. I told him all
about what was happening to my
dream of being the senior pastor at
this church.
“Perhaps it’s time to let it go,” he said
with sadness in his voice.
Where are you going?
This is an exciting question when you
suspect you know the answer. For
years, I had imagined myself in the
role of senior pastor at this church.
It felt right. It felt comfortable. It felt
scary, but I felt up to the challenge.
But when the bottom falls out of
14 Solutions
your dream, Where are you going?
begins to feel like a desperate
question. Mary and I had dozens of
long conversations about what this
all meant. She loved this church,
too, and at first, she really didn’t
want to leave. Neither did I. Letting
go of the dream that would have
secured a very public success was
extremely difficult. Becoming senior
pastor would have felt like validation.
Approval and admiration were
cheering me on to get this job, no
matter what.
But staying would have betrayed a
very private secret: The way I see to
the shalom of my brothers and sisters
is to create environments in which
people’s latent gifts can emerge.
When you get close to discovering
what your secret is—how you see
to the shalom of your brothers and
sisters—there will almost always be a
tempting alternative that is close but
not quite it. It’s a wise person who