Carey Nieuwhof recently noted in his church trends for 2026 that we are in a pastoral crisis. We don’t currently have enough next-generation pastors to fill the vacancies left by current pastors retiring.

There are many reasons for this: a shifting cultural moment, lower pay, the increasing difficulty of the job in divided times, lack of trust in institutions and leaders in general, and much more.

This post is by no means aiming to solve the pastoral crisis, but I do want to add one piece of the puzzle by reimagining the pastoral role.

If you’ve ever watched the TV show Hoarders, you know the mess doesn’t happen overnight. It starts small—an overstuffed closet, a junked-up room—until eventually the whole house is overrun. Our souls can look the same way. Call it spiritual hoarding: hidden sins, buried memories, unresolved shame.

When you truly encounter beauty, you change your life to be closer to it.

Many of us come from imperfect, and even very broken, homes. Have you ever asked, “Is a flourishing home actually possible for someone like me?” Scripture paints a surprisingly hopeful picture. Psalm 127–128 describes a home buzzing with life and peace: a table full of laughter, children like “olive shoots” (strong, steady, fruitful), meaningful work, and a deep sense of blessing. Not perfection—flourishing.

Most of us have had that strange moment: on paper, everything looks great—you’ve got the job, the relationship, the apartment, even the sleep and the health metrics—and yet inside, you don’t feel like you’re flourishing. Something is still missing.

As of 2023, an estimated 40 million people in America have left the church. That’s not just a staggering statistic—it’s millions of individual stories. Names. Faces. Friends and family who once worshiped beside us and now are gone.

There is a resurgence happening in the Western Church right now around the importance of prayer.

Coming from streams of Christianity that had very little place for a corporate prayer gathering, I was skeptically curious. But as I began to dive into the theology, historical precedent, and lived practice of prayer, I became convinced that a consistent prayer gathering is essential to my philosophy of ministry.

Many of us look at marriage today and quietly wonder, “Why isn’t this working?” Statistics tell us divorce is common, marital happiness is rare, and a lot of couples feel more like exhausted roommates than joyful partners. It often feels shallow and meaningless. Scripture offers a deeper vision. In Genesis 2, we see an ancient and beautiful prototype of flourishing marriage that’s far richer than romance or legal contract.

For many, Easter feels like a strange holiday. There are eggs, bunnies, pastels, and candy—but what is it actually about? Underneath the cultural layers, Easter centers on a bold claim: that Jesus of Nazareth literally rose from the dead.

If you could share a meal with anyone in history, who would you choose? A celebrity, an athlete, a theologian, a loved one you miss? Our answers say a lot about what we value—status, wisdom, beauty, or belonging.

Scroll any news feed and it’s obvious: the world is on fire. Wars, exploitation, political chaos, addiction, housing crises, corruption. Then there’s our own stuff—anxiety, conflict, secret struggles. It’s natural to ask, “What on earth could possibly fix this?”

Like the well-known experiment where flies in a clear container refuse to fly above the level of the lid even after it’s removed, we can become trapped in linear thinking that limits the vision available to us.

I hope this expands your paradigm the way it has expanded mine.

I recently heard Jon Tyson say at a church planting gathering, “Growth track is great for making volunteers, but terrible at forming disciples.” Ouch.

The typical formation pathway looks something like this: baptism, reading the Bible, serving on a team, giving, joining a group, and maybe taking a class or two. The pinnacle of this model is leading a team, leading a group, or getting on staff. And if you make it onto staff, the highest aim in many larger churches is becoming a campus pastor.

If you don’t fit that mold, you’re often encouraged to serve every few Sundays while you quietly live out your real passions in the marketplace or through a hobby.

Many of us know what it feels like to hit a wall. You promise yourself you’ll change—won’t get high, won’t drink, won’t go back to that relationship—and then you watch yourself do the exact thing you swore you wouldn’t. It’s frustrating, shameful, and it raises a haunting question: “Can I actually change?”