Transitions test us. They stretch our faith, unsettle our routines, and remind us who is really leading the way.
Today is my last day serving full-time at Pensacola Christian College. For six years, God allowed me to walk a path I had never imagined. Tomorrow begins a new chapter as I step into full-time pastoring at Bethel Baptist Church in Greenfield, Indiana, while continuing consultant work with the college.
As I reflect, my heart is drawn to the words of Deuteronomy 8:2: “And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee…” God called His people to look back, not simply to reminisce, but to recognize the lessons He had woven into their journey.
That is what I want to do here: pause, remember, and share some of the lessons God has taught me in this season of transition.
1. Identity is found not in what you do, but in whose you are.
It is easy to let ministry become a mirror. The title, the role, the platform, all can whisper, “This is who you are.”
But ministry is an assignment, not an identity. Seasons shift. Titles change. Congregations come and go. Yet our truest identity remains anchored in Christ alone.
We are not defined by the church we serve, the pulpit we stand behind, or the years we have logged. We are defined by the cross, by grace, and by being children of God. That identity can never, ever be taken away.
2. Calling always trumps career.
Career asks, “Where can I succeed?” Calling asks, “Where can I serve?”
I have stood in full sanctuaries and known what the world would call success. But the voice of God does not measure by numbers. It measures by obedience.
Sometimes that voice leads you to step away from applause and into the quiet of trust. And when you do, you discover that calling always tells a better story than career.
3. Ministry moves in seasons.
I still remember locking the office door at Fellowship for the last time after twenty-four years. My hand lingered on the key, knowing it would turn for the last time. That simple act carried the weight of sermons preached, weddings celebrated, funerals grieved, and prayers whispered across decades.
Then came the campus years. A new rhythm. Faster pace. Endless meetings. Conversations with students and co-workers who became friends. Preaching regularly in chapel and traveling most weekends to speak in churches across the country. It was an honor.
What some thought was a departure from ministry was, in truth, another season of it.
4. God’s preparation is often hidden, but never wasted.
Those years on campus were not a detour. They were a workshop. God was sanding away impatience, chiseling character, and sharpening skills I did not know I would need.
Executive leadership. Decision-making. Guiding teams. Every assignment was shaping both heart and hand.
At the time, it did not look like preparation for another pastorate. But now I can see His fingerprints all over it. Nothing is wasted in the workshop of God.
5. The shepherd’s heart never stops beating.
Even when I was not serving in a pastorate, the call to care for God’s people remained.
In college administration, I discovered that shepherding is not confined to a pulpit. It is a posture of the heart.
Scripture says of David, “So he fed them according to the integrity of his heart; and guided them by the skilfulness of his hands” (Psalm 78:72). Leadership is not simply about strategy. It is about integrity. It is about care. It is about leading with both heart and hands.
6. Sometimes God calls us not to a place, but to obedience.
In the past, every time Jenny and I sensed God moving us, we already knew the destination before we left. One ministry flowed into the next without interruption.
This time was different. God asked me to step away from Pensacola without knowing what was next. I had no ministry position waiting. No opportunities in hand. Only His call to obey.
It was a humbling thing to tell the college I would not be returning after the semester. Yet Hebrews 11:8 became my anchor: “By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.”
Abraham went out not knowing. So did we.
Three weeks later, the door to Bethel opened. His timing. His way. His providence.
7. Providence often takes us the long way home.
If you had asked me while we were in West Virginia if I would go to another church to pastor, I would have said, “I could never leave Fellowship to go to another pastorate.”
Yet here I am, six years later, serving as pastor once again. In fact, I had never even heard of Bethel Baptist until just a few months ago. It was not on my radar. But it was on God’s.
When Jenny and I visited Bethel to explore the opportunity, we sensed in our hearts that this was the place God had prepared for us. His hand was already guiding us here.
And I am deeply grateful for how patient Bethel is with us during the transition. The timeline extended by two months, allowing me to finish well at PCC, begin strong at BBC, and balance the demands of family and life in between. That kind of grace is evidence of God’s hand at work.
What looked like detours were actually directions. What felt like delay was really design.
Now, with a grateful heart, I can see what I could not see then. The fingerprints of Providence were all over the path.
The seasons change, but the Shepherd never does. And that is why I step into tomorrow with confidence.
For as Paul wrote in Philippians 1:6: “He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.”
Transitions come to us all. They test our patience, deepen our faith, and remind us who is in control. The same Shepherd who led His people in the wilderness, who steadied Abraham’s steps into the unknown, and who has proven faithful through the years, is the same Shepherd who will guide you today. His fingerprints are on your path as surely as they have been on mine.
A Good Word 