Last fall, I ran a post on the blog by John Thomas about his experience through a failed church plant. It turned out to be one of the top posts of the 2012. The feedback was encouraging, and I like that we can openly discuss the lessons learned through failed church plants alongside those that rocket to megachurch status.

Church planting is not easy. And not all plants succeed. Some thrive, some grow slowly, some plateau early, and some just don't work. The reasons are different for every situation, but in every instance there are lessons to be learned.

Jason Brooks experienced a little bit of everything through his experience. He recently sent me his story and asked if I would be interested in running it here on the blog. After reading it, I couldn't help but think back to a blog series I did last year on Neighborhood Transitions & the Local Church.

I focused mainly on a changing neighborhood with a traditional church in that series, but the same basic principle applies when planting-- when possible, churches should reflect the community in which they reside. Keep that in mind as you read Jason's story.

Five Lessons From a Church Killer -- By Jason Brooks

A few years ago I was the pastor of a small church plant. The congregation was less than seven years old and had only been in the community for a couple of years. Circumstances had taken their toll; the energy and life expected from a young church was gone. The church was the baby of the plant pastor, and he had unexpectedly resigned. The people were scared. And depressed. The weren't sure where to go. They didn't know how to move forward.

So they hired me.

Like a lot of first-time pastors, I expected that things would get better. I was naive and so were the members. We all assumed that a fresh voice was all the church needed. We expected that the numbers would go up-- that the people would grasp the new vision; that the part-time gig I signed on for would quickly become full-time.

Three and a half years later, the church was dead, and I felt like I'd killed it. In reality, there were a lot of factors involved, but for the longest time I felt like I had failed the people I pastored. Looking back on my time, I see five specific lessons that have shaped my ministry moving forward, and I share them with the hope that they can be instructive for other church planters/pastors.

I wasn't the best fit as the leader

Before I list any other factors, I have to own up to the fact that I wasn't the best candidate for the job - I was simply the best available candidate at the time. I was coming off an intense period of grieving (my wife and I had our first child stillborn only a year earlier), and I was still feeling my way through a radical shift in my understanding of God. As a result, my leadership was scattered, and it amplified the other factors that hurt the church.

The church was not the right fit for the community

The location was a rural, semi-agrarian community that thrived on tradition. The church was contemporary, relaxed, and aimed at well-educated middle-class families. Why the misalignment? Because the church expected the community would change to fit them and never assumed otherwise. To be honest, the church was never designed for the community it was in; it was always built with the idea that the community would one day become an extension of the suburbs down the road. When the economy slowed down and the demographic projections didn't come to fruition, the church was sorely out of place and without a real plan.

The people were wrong for the community

The members were mostly college educated young adults with kids who lived 15-30 minutes away. The community was mostly older, high school educated adults with vastly different perspectives on life. The only time the members interacted with people in the community was when the church held outreach events on the church property, or when church members stopped for gas at the local filling station on Sundays. Even when the members and community interacted, the differences in worldview and lifestyle were obvious, and neither group was interested in changing.

The strategy was just wrong

The church invested heavily in a 10-acre piece of land that it couldn't afford, and it hitched its expectations for growth to the development of the property. When I got there, two things became evident: one, owning land was considered the pinnacle of the church's vision; once the property was secured, the members believed it would all be downhill from there, and they responded accordingly. Two, the strategy for the property was unrealistic; you can't really develop recreational fields on land where ninety percent of the property has a downward slope of over thirty degrees and as many trees as a national forest.

The members were tired

Other than my leadership, this was the single biggest factor in the church's death. After seven years of one-step-forward-two-steps-back, the core members were spent. There was little energy for new ideas. This manifested itself in the familiar refrain, "We've tried something kind of like that before. It just didn't work." Without the energy born from vision and hope, our leadership meetings became a struggle. The best way to describe things was that the people knew we were dead in the water, but no one wanted to admit it. There was a lot of talk about the church's potential, but little acceptance of the reality: something radical would have to happen in order to see that potential fulfilled. Even though nobody wanted to admit it, everyone was ready to move on.

It took a miracle of God for us to reach that point. Through divine intervention, we were able to agree on a course of action: we were doomed to repeat history, but we'd do it better and smarter. We sold the albatross property (thus moving from $300,000 in debt to $350,000 in the black) and relaunched the church in the community where the majority of the members lived. There was a new financial flexibility, a new location, and a new possibilities. Visitors started coming. We hired additional staff. Things felt better.

But six months later, I realized I couldn't lead the church anymore. I was in too deep, out of ideas, and out of the will of God. After much soul-searching, I resigned as pastor. The leadership team was shocked, but unanimously voted to accept my resignation. They gave me a generous severance and told me that they were truly grateful for helping them get the church to a healthy place.

Then, they unanimously voted to close the church doors.

One of the members admitted, "We only hung in to support you. Most of us had given up a long time ago." Within a month, the church no longer existed. The money earned from the sale of the property used to cover legal expenses and severances, and the rest was split equally between 10 different charities and mission organizations. Everyone went their separate ways, and the church faded into memory.

Sometimes, letting something die is the only way to bring about new life. It was true in the case of Lazarus, and it was true in the case of that church. Thanks to the wonder of Facebook, I kept up with many of my ex-parishioners, and with one or two exceptions, every family moved on to serve joyfully in another church. And I've been blessed over time to learn that instead of being angry at me for the death of the church, they are grateful--because it allowed them to move on to a healthy place of service in God's Kingdom.

It's not easy being a church killer, but the painful lessons are sometimes the most valuable. Here's hoping these lessons help you build a better, healthier church.