Finding God Again

Dangers of Ministry Episode 7: Returning to Christ Without Losing Hope in His Church

Over the past five years, I have asked God A LOT of questions.

Questions about ministry. Pastoring. Prophecies. Leadership. Unanswered prayers. Disappointment. People. Church. And everything that lies somewhere in between.

Some of those questions came from curiosity. Many came from pain.

There was a season when I was deeply confused by some of the things I had experienced and witnessed in ministry. And when the people involved are people who represent God to you, the questions don’t always remain questions about people.

They can very quickly become questions about God.

God, where were You? Why did You allow this? Was that really You speaking? Did I misunderstand You? Can I trust spiritual leadership again? Can I trust my own discernment again? Can I ever belong to a Christian community without constantly wondering whether something is wrong?

It was partly from wrestling with these questions that this Dangers of Ministry series was born.

I have come to realise that the flaws of people—especially people who carry God’s name—can become one of the reasons people lose their faith, distance themselves from the Church, or struggle to trust the body of Christ again.

But somewhere along my own journey, I had to confront a difficult truth:

I had to separate who God is from what people had done.

When People Fail, God Hasn’t

One of the most dangerous things that can happen in our faith is when we unconsciously merge God with the people who represent Him.

A pastor becomes the voice of God. A ministry becomes the presence of God. A leader’s approval begins to feel like God’s approval. Their displeasure begins to feel like God’s displeasure. Their words carry so much spiritual weight that questioning them begins to feel like questioning God Himself.

And when that person eventually disappoints us, manipulates us, abandons what they taught, behaves inconsistently, or simply reveals their humanity, something deeper than our relationship with them can break.

Our picture of God can break too.

But I have had to learn that one person’s failure should never become God’s reputation.

The Church represents Christ imperfectly. Christ represents the Father perfectly. Paul writes in 2 Timothy 2:13:

“If we are faithless, He remains faithful…”

Human inconsistency does not rewrite God’s character. Peter denied Jesus. Judas betrayed Him. Thomas doubted. The disciples misunderstood Him repeatedly. Yet none of their failures changed who Christ was.

And neither do ours, the failures of our pastors, nor the failures of ministries.

Neither do the failures of people who once spoke into our lives with great authority.

One of the greatest steps towards healing for me has therefore been learning to ask:

What did God actually do—and what did people do in His name?

They are not always the same thing.

You Don’t Have to Pretend It Didn’t Hurt

Separating God from people’s failures does not mean pretending those failures didn’t hurt.

Sometimes, in Christian spaces, we rush people towards forgiveness so quickly that we don’t give them permission to acknowledge the wound. But healing doesn’t require dishonesty.

You can say: What happened to me was wrong.

And still say: God is good.

You can forgive someone without pretending they were right. You can love someone without giving them unrestricted access to you. You can honour what was good in a season without denying what was unhealthy about it.

And you can leave an unsafe environment without leaving Christ.

For some people, avoiding church for a while becomes a form of self-protection. Sometimes we are protecting our emotions. Sometimes, if we are truthful, we feel as though we are protecting our faith.

I understand that instinct.

But I have also learnt that isolation cannot be the final destination of healing.

When Thomas struggled to believe after the resurrection, Jesus did not run away from his questions. He invited Thomas closer. He allowed him to examine what he could not yet understand (John 20:24–29).

There is something about Jesus that I have grown to love even more through this journey:

He is not intimidated by our questions.

You can bring them to Him.

Learning to Hear God Again

One of the consequences of unhealthy ministry is that sometimes you stop trusting your own ability to discern God. You second-guess everything.

Was that God? Was that fear? Was that my leader’s voice? Was that something I was taught to believe? Am I being rebellious by questioning this?

When you have spent a long time being told what God is saying—particularly in an environment where questioning spiritual authority is discouraged—it can take time to learn to sit quietly with God again.

Samuel wasn’t born recognising God’s voice. He learned. In 1 Samuel 3, God called Samuel and Samuel initially thought Eli was calling him. Recognition came with time.

I think there is something reassuring about that. We are allowed to learn. We are allowed to test. We are allowed to grow in discernment.

James 3 gives us a beautiful description of wisdom from above: it is pure, peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruit.

These have become useful markers for me. Not every urgent voice is God’s voice. Not every frightening prophecy is God’s voice. Not every instruction carrying the words “God told me” should automatically bypass discernment.

Scripture tells us to test things. And conviction is different from manipulation. Manipulation often needs fear, pressure and urgency.

Godly conviction can be uncomfortable—even deeply so—but it continually draws us towards truth and towards Christ.

Learning God’s voice again means returning to Scripture, prayer, quietness, wise counsel and intimacy with Him.

Not merely asking: “What is someone saying God said?”

But learning again to ask: “Lord, what are You saying?”

Grace Before Performance

Another thing I had to rediscover was grace. Because sometimes you can leave a performance-driven ministry and still carry its theology inside you. The leader is no longer demanding that you perform, but the voice remains:

Pray more. Fast more. Serve more. Give more. Attend more. Do more. Prove that you are committed.

And somewhere underneath all that activity can be the fear that if you stop doing enough, God will stop being pleased with you. But God is not waiting for the perfect performance before welcoming us home. He simply says, come.

Ephesians 2 holds this tension beautifully: we are saved by grace through faith, not by our works—and yet we are created in Christ Jesus for good works.

Works don’t purchase grace. They flow from Grace. We don’t serve so Christ will love us. We serve because He already does. We don’t pray to earn access. Christ already gave us access.

We don’t fast to prove our spirituality. We fast because we desire Him. We don’t minister to establish our worth. Our worth was settled at the Cross.

Don’t spend your life trying to earn what Jesus already gave you. Sometimes finding God again means rediscovering the God who loved you before you performed for Him.

Forgiveness Does Not Mean Naïveté

This was another important lesson for me:

Forgiveness and trust are not the same thing. Forgiveness can be extended without giving someone the same access they once had. Trust is rebuilt through consistency.

And consistency takes time.

Scripture does not require us to become naïve in order to prove that we have forgiven. Forgiveness does not mean ignoring patterns, or removing boundaries. It doesn’t mean returning to environments that remain unhealthy. It doesn’t mean calling something safe simply because the person involved is Christian.

Grace and wisdom can coexist. Love and boundaries can coexist. Forgiveness and discernment can coexist. In fact, I believe healthy Christianity requires all of them.

Returning to Community—Slowly

Eventually, however, I had to face another difficult truth. Christianity was never designed to be lived entirely alone. Hebrews tells us not to neglect meeting together. There is something God gives us through community that isolation cannot reproduce.

But I don’t think returning to community after hurt has to be dramatic. You don’t have to immediately join another ministry. You don’t have to immediately take up another leadership role. You don’t have to immediately call someone your spiritual father, mother, mentor or pastor.

You don’t have to hand somebody the deepest parts of your life because they preached a powerful sermon. Sometimes returning looks like sitting quietly at the back of a church and allowing yourself to receive.

Sometimes it means worshipping without serving. Listening without committing. Watching without immediately attaching yourself. Healing without explaining yourself to everybody.

And gradually discovering that:

• Not every pastor controls.

• Not every leader manipulates.

• Not every Christian friendship comes with conditions.

• Not every church wounds.

After Elijah’s terrifying encounter with Jezebel in 1 Kings 19, God did not first give an exhausted prophet another sermon or another assignment. There was rest, food, and God’s presence.

And eventually, there was direction, purpose and companionship again. Sometimes restoration begins much more gently than we imagine.

Learning to Trust Without Becoming Suspicious

Perhaps one of the hardest parts of healing is finding the space between naïveté and cynicism. Pain can teach us valuable lessons. But if we are not careful, pain can also become the lens through which we interpret everybody. We begin looking for manipulation before anyone has manipulated us.

Looking for betrayal before anyone has betrayed us. Looking for hidden motives behind every act of kindness. There is a difference between discernment and suspicion.

Discernment seeks truth. Suspicion assumes guilt. The answer to being naïve is not becoming cynical. It is becoming discerning.

Love can believe the best while wisdom still tests things. And Jesus gave us one of the simplest tools for doing this:

“You will know them by their fruits.”

— Matthew 7:16

So instead of constantly asking: “Can I trust anyone?”

I am learning to ask: “What fruit is consistently present?”

Is there humility? Accountability? Kindness? Truth? Repentance? Self-control?

Does this person become defensive when questioned? Can they admit when they are wrong? Do they point people towards Christ—or continually towards themselves?

What happens when nobody is applauding? What happens when their authority is challenged?What happens over time? Because fruit requires time.

Not charisma. Not gifting. Not popularity.

Time.

And I Found Christ Was Still There

If this entire Dangers of Ministry series has taught me anything, perhaps it is this:

People can fail. Pastors can fail. Ministries can fail. Churches can get things wrong. And sometimes those failures leave wounds that take years to understand.

But Jesus remains Jesus.

The answer to unhealthy ministry is not no ministry. The answer to abusive leadership is not no leadership. The answer to misplaced trust is not never trusting again.

The answer is Christ-centred ministry.

Accountable leadership. Biblical community. Healthy boundaries. Discerning trust.

And above all, a faith anchored in Jesus rather than in the people who represent Him. I started this journey with many questions.

Some have been answered. Some haven’t. But perhaps healing was never going to mean receiving an answer to every question.

Perhaps part of healing was discovering that unanswered questions did not have to separate me from God.

I could question and still believe. I could grieve and still worship. I could acknowledge what was wrong without becoming suspicious of everything that was good. I could forgive without becoming naïve. I could love the Church without pretending the Church was perfect. I could learn to trust people again without placing them where only Christ belongs. And after all the questions, disappointment, unlearning and relearning, I discovered something remarkably simple:

Jesus is still trustworthy.

He had not changed. And maybe finding God again wasn’t really about discovering where He had gone. Maybe it was about learning to see Him again without the faces, voices, expectations and failures of people standing in the way.

People will fail. Christ remains faithful.

And that is where I choose to rest my faith.

A Prayer for You

Father, Heal what fear has broken. Restore what disappointment has stolen. For everyone who has confused Your character with the failures of people who represented You, reveal Yourself again.

For those who are afraid to trust, teach them to trust wisely. For those who have become suspicious, restore tenderness without taking away discernment. For those who have walked away from community because they were wounded there, lead them gently towards safe, healthy people.

For those who no longer trust their ability to hear You, quiet every competing voice and teach them to recognise Yours again. Help us forgive without becoming naïve. Help us establish boundaries without becoming bitter.

Help us love deeply without making idols of people. Give us leaders who point us towards Christ rather than themselves, and make us people who do the same. And may our faith never rest on the strength, charisma, gifting or consistency of human leaders, but on the unchanging faithfulness of Jesus Christ.

When people fail us, remind us that You have not. When we have questions, draw us closer. And when we struggle to find our way back, remind us that You are still there. Amen.

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