I want to talk to the pastor who is in the middle of something really hard right now.
Maybe it’s a ministry failure — something fell apart that you poured your heart into, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever try that hard again. Maybe it’s a broken relationship — a church split, a staff betrayal, or a marriage that’s barely hanging on. Maybe it’s something quieter and more internal: a slow erosion of the faith that once felt unshakeable.
Whatever your hard thing is, I want you to hear this first: you’re not alone. And you’re not done.
The Pit Has a Way of Lying to You
When you’re in a dark season, it’s almost impossible to believe it will ever end. The pit has a way of making you feel like it’s the whole story — like the difficulty you’re walking through right now is the final word on who you are, what your ministry is worth, and whether God is still at work.
It isn’t. It really isn’t.
Think about Joseph. The pit was real. The betrayal was real. The years in prison were real. But the pit was not his final address. It was preparation. It was the very path that led to the palace — to the place where he would have exactly the character, the compassion, and the resilience needed for the work ahead.
I’m not saying your pain is neat or tidy. I’m not saying “just trust the process” in some dismissive way. What I am saying is that dark seasons have a track record of producing things that good seasons simply can’t.
What the Broken Places Taught Me
My darkest season taught me more about grace, empathy, and identity than twenty years of ministry ever did.
When I was in the middle of it, I couldn’t see that. It just felt like loss — like everything I had built was crumbling, and I was powerless to stop it. I had no framework for what was happening to me. I just knew it hurt.
But on the other side, I can see clearly what the brokenness was doing. It was stripping away everything I had been leaning on that wasn’t God. It was exposing the places where my identity had gotten tangled up in my performance and my position. It was developing in me a tenderness for hurting people that I could have never manufactured in a classroom or a conference.
The broken places became the most useful places.
Pain as Preparation, Not Punishment
Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.” Not some things. Not the comfortable, manageable things. All things.
That doesn’t make the pain less real. But it does mean the pain is not purposeless. What you are walking through right now — however hard, however unfair, however confusing — is not outside of God’s reach or God’s redemptive plan for your life.
Sometimes the very thing that feels like it’s ending you is actually equipping you for your greatest chapter yet. The wound you carry becomes the wound through which your ministry goes deepest.
Your Story Isn’t Over
If you’re in a dark season right now, please don’t isolate. Please don’t white-knuckle it alone. Please don’t let the shame of the struggle keep you from reaching out.
The pit is not your final address. There is more ahead. And the work you do now — the inner work, the honest conversations, the slow and sometimes painful process of healing — will not be wasted.
Your story isn’t over. Not even close.
If you’re ready to talk, I’m here. No judgment. No formulas. Just a conversation between two people who know what it’s like to be in the hard place — and to find their way through.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.” — Romans 8:28
