Life In the Middle

I’m going to be a bit vulnerable here – so please bear with me. There were seasons of my life where I don’t know exactly when it happened.

Somewhere along the way, the wires got crossed.

What started as a genuine love for Jesus slowly became something else. Not overnight. Not through some dramatic rebellion or public failure. It was much quieter than that.

It was a slow drift.

For more than ten years, I served in full-time vocational ministry. I preached sermons, led meetings, counseled people, studied Scripture, prayed with others, and spent countless hours doing “the work of God.”

But looking back, I can see how easily serving Jesus can replace knowing Jesus.

The scary thing about ministry is that it can mask spiritual drift. You can still be productive. You can still be effective. You can still be helping people. In fact, others may never notice anything is wrong.

But deep inside, something begins to change.

The wonder fades.

The affection cools.

What was once desire slowly becomes duty.

You read your Bible because you’re supposed to. You pray because it’s expected. You prepare messages because people are counting on you. You keep showing up because that’s what leaders do.

And after a while, it’s hard to tell where genuine devotion ends and performance begins.

I’ve found myself asking some difficult questions lately.

How much of what I did flowed from love?

How much flowed from obligation?

What does it actually look like to follow Jesus when nobody is expecting anything from me?

What does a relationship with Him look like outside of ministry, outside of titles, outside of platforms, and outside of performance?

Those questions can be uncomfortable, but I think they’re necessary.

In Revelation 2, Jesus speaks to the church in Ephesus. He commends them for many things. They worked hard. They persevered. They remained doctrinally sound. From the outside, they were successful.

Yet Jesus says, “But I have this against you: You have abandoned the love you had at first.”

The problem wasn’t their activity.

The problem was their affection.

That’s what has been challenging me lately. I’ve read that passage, I’ve taught that sermon. Now, on the other side of vocational ministry, I’m remembering.

Jesus never called me first to be a pastor. He called me first to be His.

Before the sermons, before the ministry, before the responsibilities, there was simply a relationship.

And perhaps that’s where He is gently leading me back.

Not back to doing more.

Not back to trying harder.

Not box checking

But back to Himself.

Back to the place where obedience flows from love, not obligation.

Back to the place where being with Him matters more than doing for Him.

I don’t have all the answers yet.

I’m still sorting through what was genuine, what was habit, what was expectation, and what was performance.

But I know this: Jesus is not asking me to impress Him.

He’s inviting me to know Him.

And maybe that’s not just a lesson for pastors.

Maybe it’s a reminder for all of us.

Because the greatest danger isn’t that we stop working for Jesus.

It’s that we keep working for Him while slowly forgetting why we loved Him in the first place.