It’s been quite a while since I last posted. I haven’t abandoned the blog, but I stepped away to get some things clear in my mind. A lot has happened.
First, as I shared in my last post, my position at my employer of eight years was eliminated. That came as a complete shock, and I’m still processing it. In the aftermath, I also learned that some people I considered friends spoke about me in ways that were unkind. Gossip has a way of doing damage, whether intended or not. It’s unfortunate when people elevate themselves by diminishing others—especially those who aspire to leadership. A true leader lifts the people around them.
I also resigned from Redemption City Church in December. To be fair, I wasn’t serving in any meaningful capacity at that point. I stepped away from the worship team in 2024 and resigned as youth pastor in spring 2025 after being told I would be used more in a teaching role. That did not happen.
This isn’t a gripe post. It’s an effort to clear the air for those who still follow along.
From 2012 through 2021, I was in continuous schooling—earning an AA, BA, and MA from Ohio Christian University, followed by an MA(TS) from Nazarene Theological Seminary. I completed the Church of the Nazarene Course of Study for ordination, along with the required service. I served as youth pastor beginning around 2016–2017, was on the worship team from 2011 through 2024, and built a career in insurance while pursuing a CPCU designation.
I was ordained in 2022, and for a time things seemed positive. But after we moved out of our shared building, my role became increasingly unclear—until it effectively disappeared. Youth attendance dropped from more than twenty per class to just a handful. A major factor was the lack of consistent support and participation needed to sustain it.
My resignation as youth pastor was formally accepted in March 2025. I was again told I would have more teaching opportunities—more than once a year. That did not materialize.
Over time, repeated unfulfilled commitments took their toll. After a while, that wears on anyone. I reached a point where I had had enough and chose to step away entirely. My last Sunday ended early after an interaction with someone in authority that I found deeply unkind. I left that day and have not returned.
Plans for a send-off fell through. My wife, who served as Compassionate Ministries director, was informed that a board meeting she had scheduled was canceled because “numerous people” had told the pastor she was leaving. The issue was simple: she had told no one that—she had planned to stay. At that point, only I (and our youngest) had decided to leave. My youngest expressed it this way: “They treat me like an employee, not someone who belongs here.”
Given all of that, we declined any kind of send-off.
I do have concerns and criticisms, but I’m not convinced this is the right time to fully share them. What I will say is that I did not feel heard, even when I made intentional efforts to communicate. I had a direct conversation with our pastor outlining reasonable requests: to teach at least once per quarter, to serve as primary substitute as previously discussed, to be used in teaching more than once every year or two, and to publish this blog as part of that effort. I had also been told I would write a newsletter.
None of those things happened. Instead, I was told that taking notes during sermons should be viewed as a significant opportunity.
At some point I made a decision I never expected: I resigned my credentials.
This was not a loss of faith. I remain as committed as ever. But in that environment, the credentials felt functionally meaningless. I did not feel respected, valued, or utilized in a way that reflected the investment made.
For context, I was never under church discipline, nor was I given any indication—despite asking—that I had done something wrong. I was also the only other ordained elder in regular attendance. That reality made the disconnect even harder to understand.
Am I bitter? A little, yes. I think that’s honest. But more than anything, I have very little tolerance left for inconsistency, lack of communication, favoritism, and broken commitments.
My faith remains intact. My willingness to engage in environments where those patterns persist does not.
I plan to return to writing here more regularly, starting tomorrow.
Rooted & Reckoned 
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