Considering and Celebrating 16 years of Full Time Ministry
“dum-dum-dum-dum-dumdum-duh dum… They say it’s your birthday! dum-dum-dum-dum-dumdum-duh dum.. Happy day to ya!” -The Beatles
Today is a special day for me personally. Today is the 16th anniversary of saying yes and beginning my journey in full-time ministry. That day will be marked in my life for a long time for many reasons; it was my first major ‘youth group’ party as one of my even-to-this-day friends celebrated his 15th birthday (and was strong like the hulk and dunked me in the pool so hard I forgot where I was for a second), it was my first day of actually being paid to be a Student Pastor which I often wondered if I would ever see after the housing/economy crisis of 2008, and my attendance at the party would be shortened as one of my best friend’s (and best family friend’s) dad’s died in a tragic way 3 short hours away.
Honestly, it was overwhelming already. Here I was thinking that I was going to change the world, and this was the first day I had been called up to the majors, if you will (baseball was my backup plan… not by talent, but by my own dreams). I remember looking around at the Kennon’s pool, and having a feeling of “oh holy smokes, I’m responsible for these kids and their friends now.”
Little did I know I would be sitting in an office 16 years later of a church that Lane and I planted, dreaming of the future, fighting for the flock God has allowed me to graciously shepherd, with three young kids, a home, a dog, and a house in this beautifully quaint yet growing town of Travelers Rest SC.
“There’s no way of knowing what’s coming, but strap in and hold on if you want to survive.” T.K.S.
One of my professors who I still very much look up to told me this in our last class before graduation at Charleston Southern. Honestly, I was surprised by the statement itself. Here I sat in a classroom with 25ish other people who I was sure all had a better understanding of Scripture, theology, and anything else having to do with ministry at all, and all I could think of was to ask one question to him in response: “Are you saying that I won’t be able to survive ministry?” Arrogance. I know.
“No Mr. Gajda, I’m not saying that at all, I’m saying that ministry is both the hardest and most fun thing you’ll ever do, but if you refuse to learn from the valley you’ll fall apart when there’s not enough mountain tops” is what I recall (or something along those lines, its been while).
It was one of the most poignant statements about ministry that I had ever heard, and must still be in my top 5 to be able to go back to that moment so clearly. The rest of the conversation was short, but I remember some details of statistics that weren’t overly encouraging:
“The average student pastor leaves ministry at 18months.”
“Pastors in full time ministry are one of the loneliest groups of workers in America.”
Even today, that holds true. According to a post from the Times, 42% of Pastors have considered quitting ministry altogether this year alone. It was in that moment that I resolved to stick it out. That if my call to ministry could have any benefit to even one soul on this earth, it would have been worth it.
“That’s what youth pastors do honey. They come into your life and then they leave you high and dry.” M.Z.
Easter 2010 was a rough one. I had become a statistic I feared. I was on the low end of the 18 month plan, and I was leaving my first church to head to my second one. I had been ‘headhunted’ if you will, and it came within the same week of being called into a deacons meeting and told that the 3 gang members who had given their lives to Christ and been baptized ‘weren’t the kind of people we wanted’ at our church. Lane and I wept the Tuesday before I was set to tell our thriving student ministry that we were moving on. I had told the parents an hour before youth group to prepare them for what was coming, and as hard as it was I knew it was what we were supposed to do. What I didn’t expect was for one of our student’s moms to crush me in front of the whole group. What I didn’t tell them, in an effort to protect the church as a whole, was that they didn’t know if they could pay me much longer, let alone the outright denial of healthcare as we were hoping to grow our family. I didn’t tell them about the deacons meeting 2 weeks before, or how soul wrenching the entire process was of shifting a calling to a new environment. But that was just the thing. Ministry couldn’t be built on one person, and shouldn’t lack the staying power when someone is called away. Yet here we were, saying goodbye to these students we had loved and cared for, with an entire group of dynamics in church politics that we were unprepared for, even by the incredible professors I had a couple of years before. One thing we were certain of: we had to go. We had experienced some high highs (baptisms, events, growth, movie nights, friendships, and more) and some low lows (I’ll leave those details alone for now minus one: I had a deacon destroy me in my office with every four letter word and red faced anger known to man because I had gotten a tattoo on my inner bicep), but we knew God had a plan and that plan included us going to a new place for a new season.
“It’s a zero-2% chance, and honestly, you’re closer to zero than you are to 1.” -Dr S.
The next step was wild. We went from a small SBC church where our youth group outpaced the congregation to suddenly staring at 350 teenagers on a wednesday night. At the time, I thought this church was the proliferation of my gifting, calling, and more. I suddenly had a budget. I had bells and whistles, computers, a big meeting space, volunteers… set up for success. I also had something I wasn’t ready for:
Middle schoolers. Oh man. That 18 months of middle school ministry was unlike anything we had ever experienced. Even for a late 20’s guy with a wife, the level of energy and the overwhelming need for an entire Walmart aisle of deodorant was more than I was ready for. Additionally, we were in a city where everything felt…heavy. The amount of students in broken homes was incredible. The local high school was known for the ‘senior curse’ where every year it seemed one or more students lost their lives. As my boss at the time left and put me in charge of the student ministry, I decided we needed to get away from hype and overemotional services and move to ‘clean up’ the ministry a bit. Remember all that growth, gifting, blah blah? Yeah. Well in my time as the head Student Pastor, I had the honor of watching our near 400 students drop to under 200 within months. Don’t forget, this was in the midst of celebrity pastoring.
Additionally, we had struggled with wanting kids and being told there was no chance. I felt pressed and broken. Maybe I was part of what my professor was speaking about… Maybe this was God saying “Hey Sean, great job but this isn’t you. You didn’t listen.”
Then, on December 19th of 2010, my wife woke me up on her birthday and said “read this.” It was early, we had church, and I wanted 15 more minutes of sleep. What she wanted me to read was a pregnancy test. Collin was on the way! We celebrated like crazy and wondered: is this where we want to/are able to raise our son? I was pining for structure. Our leadership at church had been in burnout and the culmination of that was that our pastoral staff was a mess. I needed out. We needed out. As we brought Collin into the world, we knew we only had one place to go: home.
“You’re… a bit of a bull in a china shop.” – My new boss, T. L.
As we moved home with our baby boy, I began working as the Senior High Director at a big and wonderful Presbyterian church. I needed structure, and boy did they have it. I was so excited to get working there. There seemed to be a great team, and all of the things I dreamed about being able to do at my last 2 positions seemed viable here. The ‘fun’ level was top notch. My coworkers and I laughed all the time, and would do hilarious things like dress up in full Mario costumes for halloween, take mission trips to the DR (I love you all Buen Samaritano and La Romana family and can’t wait to get back to you), and I was partnered with two of the best people I’d ever met and done ministry with (Kate and Charlie, love you guys…and Mike, you too). We saw incredible growth not just numbers wise but in the Gospel heart of students and leaders alike. I will always look back at my time at First Pres with butterflies. I LOVE that place so much.
One thing I had never experienced before was a yearly review (I know, crazy) and my first one was a bit of a shock. My boss sat down with me and spoke great things for about 5 seconds and then with very little hesitation told me “Sean, you’re… a bit of a bull in a china shop.”
I was blown away (arrogance, remember?) and my immediate thought was to retort with something I thought would be funny and also rationalize my behavior (arrogance, again…) and I responded “Well, guess we’ve got to build a bigger shop or they can get out of the way.”
(editors note: not the way to respond to your first year review kids. I do not recommend this. -editor [me, im the editor.])
But he was right. I was loud, a bit arrogant, and thought I knew everything there was to know about ministry. I knew where most of this was coming from — the financial department and my at-the-time assistant were not fans of the McGinnis side of my personality (read as: loud, Irish, abrasive, but honest) and I had a tendency to laugh and enjoy ministry in a loud manner. I calmed down and really thought about all of that for a while; was I too loud? was I just a not yet grown up kid, willfully disregarding anyone who had the gall to not immediately fall in love with me? (ahem, arrogance.) What I discovered was that if I was going to be in this for the long haul, I had to slow down a bit, get serious, and learn to be a pastor who loved people and not just the ones I was leading through their high school and college years.
FPC didn’t come without struggle — but as they say bonds are forged in fire — and humility went a long way to determine whether I would be someone who was allowed to come back and visit one day with smiles or not. Thankfully, through some great leadership I am very much able to do just that, and I LOVE my old FPC family to this day. I am thankful beyond measure to them and always will be, and I could talk about FPC forever but if you’ve read this far, I need to wrap this up.
“Sean, you’ve got to do this. It’ll hurt, but you can’t not say yes.” -K.F.
One Tuesday in the spring, I was fiddling around the mall for a little while after running an errand…hold your breath here…window shopping at Champs to see what new shoes I thought I needed in my life… and a phone call came. “You should plant a church” Robbie said. My immediate response was legitimately “no way, you’re an idiot” (pastoral, right?) and to hang up on my friend who I knew would call back. But as the story goes, he was right, Lane was feeling the same way (plant, not idiot), and I had a step to take. I decided to ask 5 people to pray for us as we discerned whether we were supposed to leave this place where God was using us in such an incredible way and I made sure it was people who would love me enough to be honest while also knowing my departure meant a harder season for them due to various variables depending on who they were.
The first person to tell me I had to go was my coworker, partner in crime ministry, and friend, Kate. Over a coffee at a local shop, she looked me dead in the eyes and said “you’ve got to do this. It’ll hurt, but you can’t not say yes.”
Words I was not ready for. I needed someone to tell me no, and that I was crazy. Outside of my mom who loves me and was worried I would lose everything planting a church (almost did, what’s up pandemic), Kate was the first of many to say it was the right thing.
I was broken yet firm. Leaving FPC was the hardest ministry thing I’ve ever done, and at the end of my 5th trip leading students to the DR, on the last night, I told our students that I would be leaving and how much I loved them. Tears and cheers is how I would sell the story now, because although most of the students and I loved each other deeply, there were a few who weren’t… how do you say… fans of the way I lead all the time, but overall it was a sweet moment in time where I knew God was calling us away. They released me that October at Fall retreat where the entire students group, leaders, and my friends who lead beside me gathered around, prayed over me, and released me to this new work. And so the Trailside story began, and here we find ourselves 7+ years later, marching forward into whatever it is God has for us.
It’s been the honor of my life (outside of being a husband and father) to lead this church, no matter what it looks like. We’ve celebrated almost 60 baptisms, seen tons of marriages and relationships healed and restored, gathered an incredible staff together, sent off one of our pastors to plant his church in Florida, and so many other wonderful things. Some of the best friends I have in this world I met because of not just my yes, but so many other people’s ‘yes’ that has allowed us to do incredible things in this community.
Looking back at 16 years of full time ministry today I am filled to the brim with thankfulness and humbled beyond measure. I really can’t believe Lane and I get to do this thing called ministry, and that we get to lead this growing church called Trailside. People have come and gone as they do in church in the south, and in all honesty it used to GUT me from the inside when it happened, but now I honestly just feel like its them who are missing out on what God is doing and going to do here at TSC. It’s a joy to be here and be called Pastor.
If you’ve been a part of this journey, thank you. If you were a student who hung through my arrogant moments and my failures but walked in stride to fight the fires of hell with a water pistol, thank you. If you were a leader who said yes to spending tons of time loving students, thank you (you are the real MVPS!). If you were one of the people who gave financially and prayed for us to establish TSC, thank you! Your faithfulness has lead to 60 people giving their lives to Christ at TSC. If you are my wife, Lane, there’s not enough words to thank you for all you’ve done. It isn’t ME who’s been in ministry 16 years now… its us.
Lastly, I want to give a quick few pieces of what I like to call paying the ‘dumb tax’ to those of you who are in ministry, going into ministry, or considering the cost of ministry, if you’d oblige me just one more minute of your time:
Things I think I’ve learned that I hope you do as well, so we don’t become statistics of ministry
- People are messy, and you are one too: Listen, every single one of us is human. When scripture tells us to seek humility above everything else, I believe that includes finding a way to create your own heart to be nearly unoffendable. It doesn’t mean become a doormat for people to spew vitriol on you, it means that we, as ministers, see them, as people we are honored to lead, as… people. People are messy because relationships are messy, and you have the honor of walking with them and being a safe spot for people to verbally process their pain. You are a liaison, a guide if you will, to walk with them to lay that down at the cross. Breathe. Hurt people hurt people, so do yourself a favor and give yourself some grace so you can give others grace too. You’ve got to rest. If you haven’t built a day of rest into your schedule — I don’t mean a day off, I mean a day of rest– you need to do it now. I’d recommend this book to get started on how to learn to do that.
- Don’t do ministry alone: I am SO thankful that I have elders and friends who aren’t scared to look at me and tell me to get my head right. I also have pastoral friends and ministry friends who will do the same. In fact, I’m about to head to lunch to meet one of my FPC friends, and I’ll be calling one on each end of the drive because I need some prayerful focus (and probably a bit of exhortation). Don’t allow yourself to self-insulate and be alone. People believe in you. Find people to trust fully as well, so you can be honest when you are hurting. Oh, and make sure they can get in touch with your spouse too. I can’t imagine where I would be if Lane wasn’t able to reach out to my circle when I was deeply hurting and feeling alone. I don’t want to. If you need help finding a circle, let me know and I’ll get you connected.
- Practice Rigorous Authenticity, always: It is bar-none the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do; to be rigorously authentic and honest, no matter what it may mean for follow up conversations. When you feel tempted to placate someone for the sake of feelings or not to rock the boat, you are not doing them or yourself any favors. Now, this is NOT a free opportunity to say “well, I’m just being honest” when you are really being spiteful, or to say “I’m just from a different cultural context” when you are just being a jerk. Jesus spoke harshly but it was always out of love for the person and with a goal of leading them back to Himself. There’s a way to say hard things that are necessary for HELPING the person across from you without crushing their souls. Great leaders are able to lead honestly and love openly without seeking rationalization for their own angst and arrogance.
- There is no substitute for your daily walk with Christ: Trust me, I’ve tried. You can’t pour out from an empty cup, so if you are leading in ministry and aren’t in scripture daily, praying without ceasing, and putting on the new self every day, you’ll struggle. Remember, no one cares how much you know until they know how much you care, and you can’t do that if you’re building your own Kingdom and hoping God blesses it when you make mention of Him now and then.
- There is no one else who gets to be your spouse’s spouse or your children’s parent: “The ministry wheel will grind you up, spit you out, and replace you next week” is another line my old boss at FPC said, and it wrecked me. This may be a tough one that you could disagree with, but here goes: Ministry is not the greatest calling you have in your life. If you are married, THAT is your greatest calling. If you are a parent, THAT is your next greatest calling. Ministry can replace you. Nothing and no one can replace me as a husband and father to my children. You’ve only got so much time with those people, and if you aren’t purposefully spending time with them, you’ve already lost. You can’t have a successful ministry without a successful home. It’s harsh, but it’s real. Is marriage easy? yeah, of course it is…(nope). Is parenting simple? absoluuuuutely (not). But it is an honor and it is THE most important thing you’ll ever do.
- Work hard, dream big, and lead with vision: Lastly this- do the uncomfortable work and do what other’s won’t to accomplish what they can’t. There’s no reason to be lazy in ministry (or relationship for that matter) and it’s the moment you think you’ve arrived that the ministry drive will begin to dim. Fight against comfort with everything you have. If you rest appropriately and have a circle around you, the moments of exhaustion will come but leave just as quickly. Remember, God doesn’t need you to accomplish His work; He calls you to be a part of it. If you keep leading by His Spirit you’ll find freedom in not living in a place of comparison and hype and instead leading in a safe place of grace and peace.
Being a pastor has been one of the greatest honors of my life. 16 years in and I can’t wait for the next 16. If you’ve read this far, thank you. This has been sort of a love letter to this calling and a reminder to myself of so much good that has happened as well as hard moments that have dissipated as time has stretched on. If you’ve been involved in ministry with me in some capacity, thank you. You are the real MVP’s and I am forever grateful to have had the chance to walk along side you. Honestly this post could have been three times as long, but the real ending of the story is this:
His Kingdom, His Glory, His Honor…my good.
Sean Gajda is the Lead Pastor of Trailside Church in Travelers Rest, SC. He is about to celebrate 17 years with his love, Lane, and is raising 3 children to love Jesus, Cleveland Sports, and Thai food…and each other. They live in Travelers Rest alongside their dog Moose, who regardless of baths always finds a way to make himself smell like a dog.