Transitions are inevitable. Every ministry, one way or another, comes to an end. I am presently serving in Europe in an interim role—but then, all of us are interim pastors. All of us are passing through. It’s part of the broader nature of life. Everything is fleeting. Our days are always running out. As James K.A. Smith puts it, “To be created is to be ephemeral, fugitive, contingent.”

Looking back over my forty plus years of pastoral ministry, each ministry has been a “here-today-gone-tomorrow” event. Life is a race, underscored by the movement of the sun that hurries to move the clock along (Eccl. 1:5). So yes, life is fleeting, and transitions are unavoidable. Each one becomes a defining moment in our lives.

In each of my changes, there has been apprehension, feelings of loss. Also, a sense of excitement and anticipation regarding what lies ahead. Wise pastors come to terms with these realities and their accompanying emotions.

The Word of God serves as a witness. Scripture is the broad narrative of leaders coming and going. They provide valuable lessons.

This inevitability of change compels discernment. A difficult season in ministry might be God preparing us to move—or is he? An unexpected opportunity emerges. Is this God speaking—or is this a distraction? Does this call for a rising to an occasion? Or am I escaping from responsibility? In the moment of possible transition, we must have prudent answers to the following eight questions.

Is this Decision to Transition Guided by God, Driven by Personal Ambition, or Both?

Departures require honesty. Have I assessed my present circumstances with the right eyes? Have I probed my motives? Am I reading too much—or too little—in this letter of inquiry? Is this of God or of me?

In the noise, what are you hearing God say? Are there confirmations from God’s Word, ones that are not the result of fanciful interpretations? Are these promptings of the Spirit? In your times of prayer, are you finding your petitions changing? We must process what is going on in our interiors. Is something stirring inside that goes beyond human explanation? Has restlessness replaced what once was settledness?

Part of self-assessment includes sorting out the role of ambition. Ambition can be a good thing. It’s what gets us up. Without ambition, I would have never been a lead pastor, a seminary professor, or a writer. Desire pushes me forward, as it does you. Holy aspirations can take us into God-honored ventures we never imagined. But ambition can curdle, going bad over time. Holy ambition can degenerate, taking on the characteristics of wholly ambition. Our decisions are driven by vanity and pride.

Pressing forward can begin to become more about me, about getting noticed, gaining a name. We rather like the applause, the emotionally charged welcome of a new congregation and the initial honeymoon season. Churches sometimes hail the arrival of a new pastor, as one put it, with the sort of fever typically reserved for papal selections and moon landings.

So, begin here. What is behind this move? A shrewd reading of the circumstances, a deep sensitivity to the movement of the Spirit, and an honest evaluation of motives are beginning steps.

Have I Moved Beyond the Work I Have Been Called to?

It may be that we have grown past our present assignment. What at first was a formidable challenge is not so daunting anymore. In my first church, we spent years determining a vision for the future. Part of the challenge was gaining traction. Getting the stakeholders to sign on. It was painfully long.

I was young—and restless—and ready to start an uprising. I was in the grip of resistance addiction. I had, after all, grown up in the sixties. I was part of the Jesus Revolution. Big changes to big things. But in the church I was serving, small changes to small things were considered a threat. Changing up the worship folder was a threat.

The ongoing pushback led to a growing loss of passion on my part. I feared I was beginning to go through the motions. I found myself thinking, “If I don’t leave this place, I will die sooner than I have to.” What once brought joy felt obligatory.

Is this Transition Sensitive to the Loss that Occurs in Leaving a Church?

Leaving is not that traumatic—not if I am leaving a responsibility where I have served as a contractor called to build a church; a performer summoned to perform before an audience; a teacher tasked with dispensing knowledge; or a leader called to impart a mission and a vision. These are relationships that are largely utilitarian and transactional.

The relationship between a pastor and a congregant, however, is different. Even in this first church where I served ten long years. I was not leaving parishioners—I was leaving friendships. After all, one of the first tasks of a pastor is to nurture a community where friendships are forged and flourish. Shepherding involves immersing oneself into lives, developing consensual, committed, and caring relationships. We are called to be with them in their most joyous and grievous moments.

Through it all, we are co-laborers advocating for one another. We share mutual affection. We stand together against the wiles of the devil. The nature of our work can’t but create a special bond. Deep calls to deep, especially from the pulpit.

If we intend to model our partnership after Paul and his interrelations with the church, our forged friendship goes even deeper. The church represents agapetoi, “beloved.” As Scot McKnight notes in his book Pastor Paul, Paul framed his ministry as a “siblingship” where the pastor is a sibling among siblings.

This is not to suggest leaving a church amounts to betrayal. But we must pause and ponder and weigh the decision before we act on impulse. We are not only departing a congregation; we are breaking off a friendship. We are creating a relational hole. We are exiting a family where something was uniquely forged.

Have I Finished the Work God Has Summoned Me to Do Where I Presently Serve?

When there is transition, our inclination is to measure success in terms of one’s next move. It’s natural. We’ve been groomed by culture to seek promotions. But consider this. Could it be that true success is not measured by what you're leaving to, but by what you are leaving behind? Am I leaving a mess?

I know such disarrays. Serving in several interim teaching roles in the church, I have walked into some settings experiencing the same distaste Nehemiah must have had as he surveyed the broken walls and damaged people in Jerusalem. Where was the leadership? How did the wrong influences get a grip and demoralize the community? How is it there is no clarity when it comes to the mission and vision? Here’s my short answer—the previous pastor left long before one’s official departure.

Before any thought is given to change, I must answer this question: Have I given my present ministry the time and energy required to establish trust, lead the church forward, do the ministry required, and complete my calling? Statistics tell us pastors, on average, move every three to four years. Contrast this with an earlier era when pastors stayed twenty-five to thirty years. If churches raided other pulpits, it was considered a violation of a church’s sanctity.

There is wisdom in planting oneself in a community, setting down roots and going deep with both the churched and unchurched community. Too often, however, pastors look at the help wanted section (especially on Mondays), committing the kind of ecclesiastical pornography that lusts over other congregations. First ask yourself:

• Am I leaving a healthy church marked by unity and godliness?
• Am I leaving a congregation that has acquired the taste of great preaching?
• Am I leaving a church that is missional, visionary, strategic, and tactical?
• Am I leaving a church that will remember me—not for what I did for myself—but for what I did for others?

Has the Church Moved Beyond Me?

Sometimes, it is not we who have moved on. It is the church. It has become evident that we can no longer keep the pace. We have lost the vigor, the skills, and the passion to do the work. We are discovering that it is difficult to parse both verbs and lives.

Age, however, may not be the issue. It may be that one’s style of leading no longer fits the next stage of growth. Perhaps we have led the mission and vision process as far as we can. It is critical to have clarity about our limitations. It could also be that the cultural shift is demanding a different way of doing things, and we realize we are not able—or willing—to adapt.

Perceptive leaders know when their value is diminishing, their influence is waning, or their willingness to change is trapped in an unwillingness to adjust. Such perception is painful. None of us want to be behind the times but given time’s pace and our inevitable decline, we must stay attentive to reality. This day will come, and when it does, it will be hard to let go. I see this in some pastors who hold on too long, diminishing the good work done in an earlier stretch.

What Is the Best Counsel Telling Me?

We’re not up to deciding to transition on our own. Gaining insight and perspective from the wise is vital. We need those who can see the bigger picture and discern what will best advance the Kingdom of God.

We can ill-afford to ignore the feelings of our spouses, the counsel of a mentor, the wisdom of trusted colleagues and close confidants, and the sentiments of a board. As much as you might be ready to move, these voices might raise red flags. They may tell you your work is not finished. This happened in my first church.

Sometimes, however, our best counsel goes the opposite direction, persuading rather than dissuading us. Just as we need people to ask, “Why would you?” so we need counselors who will ask, “Why wouldn’t you?”

Is this Move the Right Fit?

In his book on leadership, Bobby Clinton writes a chapter on convergence. He defines it as the moment your best gifts converge with the most opportune place. This has helped me to evaluate transitions. Is this maximizing or minimizing my strengths?

During my Netherlands assignment, I was invited to consider leading a conference ministry in the middle of the Alps in Austria. Curious, my wife and I traveled to this part of Europe and interviewed. I was spellbound by the beauty and captured by the potential to reach significant leaders. I was confident—no, certain—that this was the will of God. My imagination went into overdrive. I was capturing a vision before I was even invited.

But—as you can probably see where this is going—it never materialized. Returning to Holland, my wife looked at me and said, “This is not you. It is not the right fit. You are a pastor, not a conference administrator.” Others who I respected for their insights and their knowledge of me concurred. Today this castle in the Alps has been converted to a 4-star superior hotel that caters to Europe’s elites. Praise God for his infinite grace.

Have I Prepared the Church for a Healthy Transition?

Pastoral successions are hard on the community. Church with becomes a church without. Church momentum is bound to slow, and fears will grow. Strife over the selection process may break out. Drawn-out procedures can drain hopes and deplete morale. People will leave.

In this defining moment of change, a pastor must ask: Has my ministry prepared and empowered the church to shift? This requires a willingness to engage in leadership development. “Have I equipped the board to take a greater pastoral role in a pastor’s absence? Have I poured myself into a possible successor?”

Should a pastor have a voice in all of this? Is it wise to gain one’s input when it comes to who will succeed? Maybe. Pastors often know better than anyone the kind of leadership the church needs for its next chapter, as well as who in the body might be a capable replacement. But maybe not. The wisdom of the community might be a better voice, and often a church might choose a different direction.

At the very least, outgoing pastors should point to resources that can serve as a map. Often, churches make the mistake of marginalizing a departing pastor, ignoring the counsel one might give. Once one’s departure is announced, a pastor soon takes on a lame duck status. It is inevitable. Nonetheless, ministries should not miss the wisdom that might be gained, especially if the pastor is transitioning into retirement. Inviting one to stay and help mentor the next pastor may go a long towards helping one to succeed.

When I have been invited into the transition process, this is the counsel I give.

• While not losing sight of the church and its identity and its history, focus on the church as it is and must become.
• Make sure the transition committee is composed of people the congregation has confidence in—strategic thinkers, those with the gift of discernment, those loyal to the church, and those who are lovers of God. Key players include those from the board, a transition/search consultant, and those serving on the personnel committee.
• Determine up front what role, if any, the existing staff should play. Don’t change things midstream.
• Determine if the search is internal, external, or both.
• Determine to be urgent. Churches can be impulsive, but my experience is that most draw the process out unnecessarily. We can establish an unrealistic bar and hope to find Jesus. Longsuffering congregants will begin leaving, convinced the train will never depart.

Conclusion

God appoints us for the time he ordains. In a moment of his choosing, he will summon us on. We will leave, hoping we have completed that for which we were called. We will see only a sliver of the results we leave behind, and this is okay. This is because there are no end results until the end of time.

In our humility, we need to accept that the next chapter for the church we leave will be written just as well, if not better. And if not, once we are summoned elsewhere, it is no longer our problem. What matters is that we are ready for this defining moment. By God’s grace, our next chapter will be even better than the last.

John E. Johnson is an adjunct professor of Pastoral Theology and Leadership at Western Seminary in Portland, OR. He has served as a lead pastor for thirty five years, and currently is a writer working on his fourth book, as well as serving as an interim teaching pastor.