"Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things." Joshua 3:5

You are days away from Easter Sunday.

By the time you read this, you are probably already in that particular kind of holy intensity that pastors know well — the final sermon details, the logistics of a bigger crowd, the quiet prayer that this Sunday would be more than just a well-attended service. That this Sunday, something would actually happen in people.

I want to start there. Because I think it matters that this conversation begins on Easter week.

Everything I want to say to you over the next thirteen weeks grows out of what we celebrate this Sunday: that death does not get the final word. That God raises what appears to be finished. That the same power that rolled away the stone is available — not just in first-century Jerusalem, but in your church, in your community, in your leadership, right now.

I believe that. I hope you do too.
 
Something Greater Is Possible

For the next thirteen weeks — from today through June 22, the week before District Conference — Leadership Matters is going to be building toward something specific. Not just delivering content week to week, but developing a shared set of convictions about what the Crossroads District is called to be and do in this next season.

I want to name that from the beginning, because you deserve to know where we are headed.

Here is the premise I am starting with: the Crossroads District has more potential than it is currently realizing — and this is the moment to step into it.

That is not a criticism. It is an invitation. And it is rooted in what I genuinely see when I look across this district.
 
What I See

I see 105 churches in central and northern Indiana. Some of them are genuinely thriving — growing, planting, sending, making disciples who make disciples. When I sit with those pastors, I leave the conversation energized and grateful.

I also see pastors carrying weight they were never meant to carry alone — spiritually thin, emotionally stretched, without someone consistently investing in them and asking the hard questions. When pastors fail to thrive, their congregations eventually feel it. And I care too much about you and about your people to let that continue without doing something about it.

I see churches with real heart and genuine love for God who have drifted — sometimes gradually, sometimes without even noticing — from mission into maintenance. Not because they stopped caring, but because they lost clarity about who they are and what God is specifically calling them to do. Unclear churches don't pursue the mission — they default to managing the preferences of the people already in the room. And churches built around preferences eventually produce consumers, not disciples. I believe most of our pastors know, somewhere deep down, that something more is possible.

I see a disciple-making deficit that we have to name honestly. We have done a reasonable job of leading people to faith. We have not done as well at forming those people into disciples who make other disciples. A disciple, by definition, is someone who does what Jesus did — including fishing for others. That gap between where most of our churches are and what Jesus actually commissioned us to produce is real. And I believe it can be closed.

And here is what I want you to hear most clearly: I see a district with everything it needs to be something genuinely extraordinary.

We have adequate funding — the result of years of wise, faithful stewardship. We have a network of 105 congregations across one of the most accessible mission fields in the country. We have the theological clarity of our Wesleyan heritage, which has always believed that the Gospel transforms people and communities and the world. We have relationships of trust, built over years of shared ministry, that no program can manufacture.

We are not starting from nothing. We are not in the wilderness. We are standing at a threshold — and there is something worth stepping toward on the other side.

The Joshua 3 Moment

The night before the Israelites crossed the Jordan, God gave them an unusual instruction: "Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things."

He did not tell them the crossing would be easy. He did not hand them a detailed plan. He asked them to prepare themselves — spiritually, intentionally — for the possibility that what was coming was worth being ready for.

I think that is our invitation right now.

Not a crisis to manage. Not a problem to solve. A threshold to cross. And the question in front of us is simply whether we will step forward into the future God has been preparing for us — or whether we will stay where we are because it is familiar and the crossing feels uncertain.

What the Next Thirteen Weeks Are About

Starting next week and moving through June 22, we are going to build a shared language and a shared set of convictions together. We are going to talk about what it means for pastors to truly thrive — not just survive ministry but flourish in it. We are going to wrestle with what church clarity actually looks like and why so many of our congregations are living below their kingdom potential. We are going to talk about communities that need the church to show up as more than a Sunday morning program, and about a world that is waiting for the Church to take the Great Commission seriously.

By June 27, when we gather for District Conference, I want every pastor and key leader in this district to be able to say with clarity and conviction: this is what we believe, this is where we are going, and this is why it matters.

One More Thing, Before Sunday

You are about to proclaim the victory that Jesus won through the resurrection.

You are going to stand in front of your congregation — some of them people you have prayed over for years, some of them walking through your doors for the first time — and you are going to tell them that the tomb is empty, that death lost, that the future is open, and that the same God who raised Jesus from the dead is alive and active right now.

Preach it like you believe it. Because everything else — every leadership conversation we will have over the next thirteen weeks — is downstream from that.

The best days of this district are ahead. I believe that with everything I have.
 
HE IS RISEN! Let's proclaim it to everyone in Central and Northern Indiana!
 
Reflection for the Week

Take a few unhurried minutes before or after Easter Sunday with these three questions:

1. What would it take for you to genuinely believe that your church's best days are ahead? What is the real obstacle — circumstantial, relational, or internal — to that belief?
2. Where do you see the greatest gap between your church's current reality and its kingdom potential? Not what you wish were different — what do you honestly see?
3. What is the one thing you would need to do differently to begin leading toward that future? Not a plan. Just the next honest step.

​Over the past several weeks, we have been exploring what it looks like to lead with a forward-leaning posture.
 
We have talked about humility and hunger. We have talked about urgency and refusing to coast. But there is one final leadership reality I want to name, because without it, none of the rest of it sticks.
 
It is the capacity to stay faithful over time.
 
Here is what I have learned after nearly three decades of working alongside pastors and churches: most leaders do not struggle to start well. Vision is compelling in the beginning. Energy is high. The mission feels clear and the possibility of change feels real.
 
Starting is not the problem.
 
Staying is.
 
Staying focused when progress feels slow. Staying committed when results are inconsistent. Staying faithful when the work becomes less exciting and more ordinary. Staying in the race when no one is cheering and the finish line is not yet in sight.
 
Forward-leaning leadership is not sustained by intensity alone. Intensity fades. What sustains a leader and a church over the long haul is endurance.
 
The writer of Hebrews puts it plainly: “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (Hebrews 12:1).
 
Notice the image. Not a sprint. Not a highlight reel. A long race that demands steady, consistent movement over time.
 
Church leadership is exactly like that.
 
There are seasons of breakthrough. There are moments when growth is visible and momentum is palpable. But most of leadership happens in the quiet, unremarkable work of showing up week after week, making good decisions, developing the people around you, and keeping the mission of Jesus in front of your congregation even when it does not feel particularly glamorous.
 
That is where lasting impact is built.
 
Not in the peak moments. In the repeated faithfulness between them.
 
I have watched churches with strong vision and genuine urgency lose ground not because they lacked the right ideas but because they lacked the endurance to execute those ideas consistently over time. They launched initiatives and let them die. They cast vision and forgot to keep calling people back to it. They started building a culture of disciple-making and then moved on before the culture had time to take root.
 
Endurance is what keeps urgency from becoming a flash. It is what turns hunger into a long-term posture rather than a short-term burst of energy. It is the difference between a church that occasionally reaches people and a church that builds the kind of mission-aligned culture that keeps reaching people year after year.
 
The churches that make the greatest kingdom impact are not always the ones that move the fastest. They are the ones that stay the most faithful.
 
They keep calling people to follow Jesus. Not just during a big series. Consistently.
 
They keep investing in leaders. Not just when it is convenient. Intentionally and repeatedly.
 
They keep pressing outward into their community. Not just when momentum is high. Even when it is hard.
 
That consistency, sustained over time, is what produces lasting fruit.
 
Forward-leaning leadership is not a moment. It is a posture you choose to maintain over the long haul.
 
Stay humble. Stay hungry. Stay urgent. And above all, stay faithful.
 
Reflection Questions

1. Where have you seen God produce fruit in your leadership over time? What was the role of faithful, consistent effort in that outcome?
2. In what areas are you most tempted to lose focus or drift from your mission? What makes those areas vulnerable?
3. What rhythms or systems help you stay consistently aligned with the mission of Jesus? Are those rhythms actually working?
4. What is one commitment you need to make right now to stay faithful in your leadership over the next year?

Last week we talked about the role of humility and hunger in leadership.

Healthy leaders stay humble enough to keep learning and hungry enough to keep growing. That posture keeps us from believing we've already arrived.

But humility and hunger have to lead somewhere.

They should produce urgency.

The danger for most churches isn't failure. It's comfort. A church can become healthy, stable, and genuinely respected in its community. Systems are working. Attendance is steady. People are satisfied.

Nothing is obviously broken.

And that is exactly the moment leaders need to pay the most attention.

Healthy churches are the ones most at risk of drifting into maintenance mode.

Nobody announces that shift. It happens slowly. Decisions get safer. Vision gets smaller. Energy migrates from reaching people to preserving what already exists.

But preservation was never the mission.

Jesus talked about the mission with urgency. In John 9:4, he said: “While it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work.”

He understood something we can't afford to forget. The window to reach people doesn't stay open forever.

Time matters.

Communities change. Generations shift. Windows of openness come and go. Every church is working within a limited season of opportunity to reach the people in their backyard.

That reality ought to create urgency.

Forward-leaning leaders feel this instinctively. They refuse to treat the present moment casually. They don't assume there will always be another shot. They lead with the awareness that the mission matters now. Not eventually.

When urgency fades, churches start protecting what exists instead of pursuing who is missing.

When urgency is alive, churches stay locked in on the people God still wants to reach.

Forward-leaning leadership keeps coming back to one question: Who is not here yet?

That question keeps leaders moving outward. It reminds us that the mission is never finished. There are always more people who need to hear the gospel, experience grace, and begin following Jesus.

Healthy churches need urgent leaders.

Because the moment we start coasting is the moment the mission starts slowing down.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do you see signs of health and stability in your church right now?
2. In what ways could that stability unintentionally pull your church toward maintenance instead of mission?
3. When you think about your community — who is not here yet?
4. What is one step you could take in the next 90 days to keep your church focused on reaching people who are far from God?

Next week we'll wrap up this series by looking at the leadership posture that allows churches to sustain missional focus over the long haul. Urgency matters, but lasting kingdom impact requires something even deeper.

When leaders sense drift, the pressure doesn't wait.

You feel it in conversations. You feel it in board meetings. You feel it in your own prayer life when you're honest enough to sit with it. Something is off. And when something feels off, the instinct is almost always the same: do something.

Launch something. Change something. Restructure something.

I understand that instinct. I've felt it. When you care about the mission and the people and the health of your church, inaction can feel like failure. But here's what I've had to learn the hard way: not all action is wise action.

Urgency Has a Shadow Side

Once drift has been named, urgency rises fast. That's not always a problem. Urgency can be a gift when it moves us toward mission. But urgency without discernment can push us toward visible change rather than durable health.

Quick initiatives can create short-term excitement. Restructuring can signal decisiveness. Bold announcements can temporarily calm anxiety in a room.

But sustainable renewal almost never starts with volume. It starts with clarity.

Jesus told his listeners to count the cost before building (Luke 14:28-30). That wasn't a lesson in pessimism. It was an instruction in discernment. Movement without reflection isn't faithfulness. It's reaction dressed up to look like leadership.

Humble leadership slows down long enough to ask: What is really happening here? Hungry leadership asks: what will actually strengthen this mission over the next five years, not just the next five weeks? Both questions are necessary. And in my experience, most leaders under pressure are only asking one of them.

Relief Is Not the Same as Renewal

When something feels off, we usually want relief first.

Relief from the pressure. Relief from the criticism. Relief from the slow grind of stagnation. That's human. I get it.

But relief and renewal are not the same thing. Relief soothes the symptom. Renewal strengthens the foundation. And the churches I've seen endure over time are not the ones that made the most dramatic moves in their hardest seasons. They're the ones that quietly reinforced what mattered most.

Prayer that wasn't rushed. Mission that wasn't assumed. Alignment that wasn't superficial. Leadership development that wasn't postponed because there were more urgent things on the calendar.

None of that feels dramatic from the outside. All of it builds real strength from the inside.

Paul tells the Galatians not to grow weary in doing good (Galatians 6:9). That exhortation only makes sense in a context where doing good feels slow. Where the results aren't visible yet. Where the temptation is to abandon the steady work for something that at least looks like momentum.

Faithful leadership is often repetitive before it is visible.

What Wise Urgency Actually Looks Like

Humble leaders resist panic. They're willing to examine root causes instead of just treating symptoms, even when that examination is uncomfortable.

Hungry leaders resist resignation. They refuse to accept decline as the inevitable end of the story.

Together, humility and hunger produce what I'd call wise urgency. Not frantic movement. Not passive waiting. Disciplined forward motion that stays rooted in mission even when it doesn't feel fast enough.

If something feels off in your church right now, the answer may not be something new. It may be something foundational that needs to be strengthened again. Clarity around vision. Honest evaluation of culture. A recommitment to disciple-making pathways. Stronger accountability in your leadership structure.

The flywheel builds momentum through repeated, faithful pushes. Not one dramatic shove that exhausts everyone and produces little.

A Look Ahead

Next week we're going to talk about what we're actually building. Not attendance. Not activities. Disciples. We'll look at what fruit that lasts actually looks like and how to align your systems around formation rather than busyness.

If humility protects us from drift and hunger moves us toward growth, disciple-making is where both come together in something that actually outlasts us.

But for now, before you move, pause.

Reflection for the Week

• Where are you feeling pressure to act quickly, and is that pressure coming from mission clarity or from anxiety?
• Are you pursuing relief or renewal? Be honest with yourself.
• What foundational discipline deserves your attention this month before any structural change gets made?

​Wise leadership isn't measured by speed. It's measured by faithfulness over time.

Very few churches decide to decline.

No leadership team gathers around a table and says, “Let’s slowly lose clarity, momentum, and mission over the next few years.”

Here is what I have observed over nearly two decades of coaching local church pastors and leadership teams: decline is almost never intentional. It is gradual. And it often begins not with a dramatic failure but with the quiet fading of two qualities that healthy leadership depends on: humility and hunger.

Drift rarely announces itself. It happens slowly, through small shifts in posture long before it shows up in measurable outcomes.

How Drift Really Begins

Success is not the problem. But success can subtly change us. It can make us feel like we have figured something out, and that quiet confidence — if we are not careful — becomes the beginning of the end.

When humility fades, we stop asking hard questions. When hunger fades, we stop pressing forward.

We begin to rely on what worked before. We assume momentum will carry itself. We focus on preserving what we have rather than pursuing what could be.

Revelation 2 gives us a sobering picture of this. The church in Ephesus was hardworking and doctrinally sound. By every visible measure, they looked healthy. Yet Jesus says plainly, “You have forsaken the love you had at first.” They had not collapsed morally. They had drifted spiritually.

They had lost their first love. And with it, their hunger.

The Early Warning Signs

Drift shows up long before decline is visible.

It shows up when leaders become defensive instead of curious. It shows up when meetings revolve around maintenance rather than mission. It shows up when prayer becomes routine instead of desperate. It shows up when feedback feels threatening instead of helpful.

At the core of most of these warning signs is the erosion of two things: humility and hunger.

Humility says, “We may not see everything clearly.”

Hunger says, “We want to keep growing.”

When leaders stop learning, stop inviting honest feedback, or stop stretching toward greater faithfulness, drift accelerates. And here is something worth sitting with: pride does not always look loud or arrogant. Sometimes it just looks settled.

Why Humility Protects Us

Healthy churches are not perfect. They are humble.

Humility creates the conditions for honest evaluation. It allows leaders to ask the questions that maintenance-minded leadership avoids:

• Are we still aligned with our mission?
• Are we forming disciples, or just managing programs?
• Is there anything we are not looking at because it makes us uncomfortable?

Proverbs reminds us that wisdom belongs to those who welcome correction. That is not a passive statement. It is an invitation to lead with openness rather than defensiveness. Humility is not weakness. It is strength under control, and it makes course correction possible before crisis forces it.

Why Hunger Moves Us Forward

But humility alone is not enough.

Healthy churches are also hungry.

Hunger is the desire to see more people come to Christ. It is the refusal to coast on yesterday’s faithfulness. It is the steady, holy drive to grow in clarity, effectiveness, and kingdom impact.

Paul writes in Philippians that he presses on toward what is ahead. That is hunger. Not restlessness rooted in comparison. Holy ambition rooted in mission.

Without hunger, humility becomes passive. Without humility, hunger becomes prideful.

Together, they form a powerful safeguard.

Humility keeps us honest. Hunger keeps us moving.

Correcting Drift Early

The good news is that drift is not destiny.

When leaders recover humility and rekindle hunger, momentum can return. I have watched this happen in churches that most people had already written off. And it almost always begins with a leader willing to be honest before the situation demands it.

That may look like inviting an honest outside perspective. Re-centering the church around prayer and genuine dependence on God. Revisiting your mission with fresh eyes. Strengthening accountability. Or simply naming the areas where comfort has quietly replaced courage.

Course correction is far less dramatic than crisis recovery. And it is far more effective.

A Word for Right Now

If you are sensing subtle drift in your context, I want to say this directly: naming it is not failure. It is leadership. It is, in fact, the beginning of the road back.

Every church, even healthy ones, must periodically ask whether humility and hunger are still alive. And those of us who lead them must be willing to ask that question of ourselves first.

Are we still teachable? Are we still stretching? Are we still burdened for people who do not yet know Jesus?

Leadership that holds humility and hunger together is difficult to derail. It stays soft toward correction and bold toward mission. That is the kind of leadership our churches need from us. And it is the kind of leadership I am praying God continues to form in all of us.

Reflection for the Week

As you move through these days, sit with these questions:

1. Where might humility be fading in your leadership?
2. Where might hunger be fading in your church?
3. What is one honest, courageous step that could rekindle both?

​Next week, we will talk about why leaders reach for quick fixes when they sense decline, and why sustainable renewal rarely comes through dramatic moves.