Pursuing Veritas

One of the more insidious features of American Christianity has reared its head in our church of late: the rumor mill. Let me explain.

I serve as a pastor at a St. Louis area church that was planted in 2020 as an independent, non-denominational church that embraces mere Christianity. This means that, unlike many church plants, we do not have denominational or network support—only the people who belong to our community.

Like most church plants, however, funding has always been a careful balancing act at our church. We have been blessed with incredibly generous people who believe deeply in our mission of fostering a community of conversation and growth for those on the fringes of faith. We have also been blessed to survive being planted during COVID, when many other plants have not made it.

Even so, our elder team keeps a very close eye on our carefully stewarded budget. And—yes, I know this can open up a whole can of worms—our church prioritizes ministry spending, which means a significant portion of our budget goes toward staffing. As the lead pastor, I am the single largest budget line item our church carries. (And in case you think I am sharing something I should not: we are a very transparent church, and this is all common knowledge.)

As our elder team began planning for the coming budget year (September through August for us), the fragility of the world around us forced some difficult conversations. We operate just down the street from a church notorious for squeezing money out of its congregants before pushing them aside. So, yes, one option for a church in our situation would be to demand more from people, preach a giving series, and confront those who do not give regularly. Other churches do this all the time.

We also could have reduced the money we give away. As a church, we tithe on what is given to us by giving away 10% of our budget to local workers and global organizations sharing the good news in our city and world. For many churches, this is above and beyond. It would have been easy to cut back.

We could also have trimmed other parts of the budget: our ministry opportunities, service projects, or even some of non-pastoral staff. Again, these are all normal options that many churches employ.

But—as you can probably tell from the fact that I am writing this—none of these options sat well with our elder team. So we decided to run what we have been calling an “experimental budget.”

For the past fourteen years or so, I have moonlighted as a handyman. This started back in graduate school when we needed extra cash to make ends meet and continued as our family grew. Ministry has not been particularly lucrative for us, and my side business has helped us provide for our family.

Our experiment, then, was to lean into what is often called co-vocational (or bi-vocational) ministry. In short, this is where a pastor holds another part-time or full-time job to help pay the bills while continuing to lead in ministry. I am blessed to know many co-vocational pastors, and I have learned a great deal from them. One of my closest pastoral friends here in St. Louis spent years in this exact model. It is an increasingly common and healthy way for both churches and pastors to flourish.

At our church, we have tried to clearly communicate this reality: our church wants to steward its finances wisely and set ourselves up for long-term health, not simply maximize what we pay our pastor in a single year. So I scaled back my church hours and took a commensurate reduction in pay to steward our church finances well while allowing me some additional time for my other work so I can care for my family.

And apparently, this is where the rumor mill kicked in.

I frequently remind our congregation (and anyone who will listen) about the importance of living out Matthew 18, where Jesus highlights choosing conversation over gossip, clarity over assumption, and difficult conversations over avoidance. Yet it never ceases to amaze me how many otherwise mature Christians struggle with this. Because rather than asking questions to further clarify what is going on, we have instead had voices spreading claims that our church is in financial trouble, claiming that we are out of money, that I am leaving ministry, and other specious claims.

And it is frustrating. It is frustrating to work hard to communicate clearly and then discover people were not listening. It is frustrating to make decisions you genuinely believe are best for your community, only to have those same decisions criticized or twisted. And it is frustrating to spend some of my now-limited hours putting out rumor fires. But here we are.

So why write this?

Partly because I need to give voice to what I am feeling. That is something I am still learning as a person and as a pastor. Partly to give a bit of behind-the-scenes insight: pastoring is extremely hard, especially today, with so many competing ideas, backgrounds, ideologies, and distractions vying for people’s attention. I want to give voice to the reality that pastors feel frustration too.

But I also write this as a reminder of the importance of watching what we say. James 1.19 tells us to be quick to listen and slow to speak. That is always good practice, but it is especially important when we do not have the full picture. So let this be a gentle reminder to you, dear reader: if something at your church, workplace, or organization is confusing, stay away from the rumor mill. Go have a conversation. Be open and honest. Ask questions rather than speculate.

Because—as Proverbs 18.28 reminds us—sometimes it is better to keep an opinion to yourself than to share it and reveal how foolish it is.