Inadequacy in Church Planting, by Andy Woodard
Church planting in American evangelicalism is big business. Church planting conferences are every bit as big has any other type of conferences that are taking place in our world today. There are countless books, degree programs, podcasts, networks, strategies, models, and denominations all focused on this goal - to plant churches. This whole operation has become so large that it could justifiably be called the American evangelical church planting industrial complex.
Every church planting organization and denomination worth its salt has some type of training program for church planters, whether it is a residency, incubator program prior to launch, coaching sessions, fundraising training, vision casting, or any number of other things. The largest such organizations have assessment retreats designed to determine the readiness and suitability of a potential church planter.
During my time in seminary, I was exposed to all of the things that would be needed to plant a church. Every aspect of preparation, from preaching class, to ordination, to fund raising, and everything in between was built around the concept of being ready and prepared for the task that would come. There is a great sense in which all of those things did prepare me for what was to come. Church history enabled me to have historical paradigms to understand theological issues in a greater context, and systematics helped me avoid theological error, hermeneutics help me rightly divide the word, and homiletics taught me to have something to say when I stand up to preach.
But when the day came to actually plant the church, and I had a sending church established, multiple lines of funding (or potential funding), a small group gathering, a place to meet, a website, articles of incorporation, a bank account, trustees for the legal entity, and all those other necessary things, I hit a wall. Or rather, a wall hit me.
While the small group was gathering for weekly Bible studies and Sunday services, we had begun to do extensive fundraising. One of my trustees and I had begun writing support letters and sending them to churches in Texas and Florida - two states where I had a lot of Contacts. It was late August of 2017.
As we sent those letters there was trouble looming in the horizon, literally. For in the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean, Hurricanes Harvey and Irma were forming. We sent our letters in the earlier weeks of August only to have these two hurricanes hit in what seemed to be back to back days at the tail end of August. Right in the middle of everything, my trustee was arrested on what would turn out to be a false accusation. In the middle of these literal storms, and personnel disaster, I received a letter back from a local church in the suburbs of NYC that I had previously worked for and asked for financial support. Their reply could fairly be summarized with the word “inadequate.” You don’t have what it takes to do this.
Everything in my preparation leading up to this moment was about making sure I was adequate personally and had all the pieces in place. There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation from their elders in multiple previous conversations, yet here we were. The specific niceties in the rejection letter were irrelevant. The kind introduction and conclusion didn’t matter. The compliments and praise in the middle fell on deaf ears. What mattered was the meaning of the words, which being interpreted was: “you don’t have what it takes to do this.”
In my preparation I had interviewed multiple other church planters and leaders and I knew the history; the vast amounts of money that had been invested in establishing doctrinally conservative, biblically faithful churches here in the middle of Manhattan. I knew a lot of stories of crushed hopes and dreams.
In my resulting depression, in the days that followed this series of unfortunate events, as I began to face despair and hopelessness, I picked up a book on Spurgeon’s battle with depression and began to read it. And when I hit chapter 4 something unusual happened. I read Spurgeon describe the tactics of the Devil, and he said, loosely paraphrased “when the accuser comes against you and tells you, you are inadequate, you are unable, you have sinned, you are unworthy” rather than argue with him you should say, “that may be true, but I have an advocate at the right hand of the father.” “That may be true, but Jesus lived and died and rose again for me.”
As I read those words my hands trembled, and a new paradigm was formed in my heart. It was true; I didn't have what it takes. My strength was unequal for the task that laid before me. I cannot cause someone's soul to live, I can't even force someone to come to church, much less build one.
What I realized that day was that those negative things were true; those things surrounded by the polite words of affirmation. And that was the point that the Lord wanted me to see. For up until this point, much of my spiritual life had been about my sufficiency, my adequacy, my ability, my training, my strength, my personality, my endurance, my knowledge, my preaching, my music, and yes, even my praying.
But the lesson that I would begin to learn that day was the meaning of these words from the Apostle Paul: “’My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
I didn't get to leave the fiery furnace, the storms, the wilderness, or whatever blessed metaphor you want to use. But I learned this reality: Christ is with me, and He is the all-sufficient Savior, the cornerstone, and the good shepherd, and He will build His church and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.
When Christ is lifted up, He will draw all men to Himself. Take heart, weary pastor.
This article first appeared in the December, 2021 edition of Tabletalk Magazine