When Calling Survives Bad Leadership
Reflections from my early years preparing for ministry
This is not something I originally wanted to write about.
In many ways, it would have been easier to leave these memories where they belong—in the past.
But after a tense moment of prayer and seeking the Lord, I felt compelled to share part of this story. Not to expose people or reopen wounds, but because there are lessons in these experiences that may help younger ministers and challenge those of us who carry authority in the church.
Some stories are difficult to tell.
But sometimes the stories we would rather keep quiet are the ones that might help the next generation walk more wisely.
When Ministry Training Shapes You
There are seasons in life that shape you long before you realize what God is doing through them.
At the time they feel confusing.
Sometimes painful.
Sometimes unfair.
Only years later do you begin to understand what God was forming inside you while you were simply trying to survive those moments.
For me, one of those seasons began when I entered Bible college.
Like many young people who feel called into ministry, I arrived believing I was stepping into a place where faith would be sharpened, mentors would guide us wisely, and our calling would be nurtured with care.
In many ways, that did happen.
But it was also the first place where I encountered something I had never experienced before: the quiet danger of spiritual authority that is never questioned.
Two Kinds of Students
It did not take long to notice something about the culture of the school.
There seemed to be two kinds of students.
Some came from families deeply rooted in ministry. Their parents were pastors, missionaries, or well-known leaders in the church. Their names carried familiarity and influence.
Others came from homes where ministry was not part of the family story.
I was part of that second group.
No one ever said it out loud, but over time the difference in treatment became visible. Students with recognizable ministry families often received more patience, more opportunity, and sometimes more grace when mistakes were made.
Those of us without those connections sometimes felt like we were constantly trying to prove that we belonged.
Looking back now, I realize that this dynamic is not unique to one school. It appears in many ministry environments.
When leadership becomes too elevated, pedigree can quietly begin to matter more than calling.
Pastors and leaders can be placed on such high pedestals that they begin to feel untouchable, while people serving faithfully in other forms of ministry are treated as if their calling matters less.
And when authority becomes untouchable, people often get hurt.
When Leadership Stops Shepherding
Student life at the school was structured around layers of leadership. Certain students were placed in positions of responsibility to help oversee dorm life and maintain accountability among the student body.
In theory, this kind of structure can be healthy.
Accountability can protect people.
Mentors can guide young ministers through difficult seasons.
But something began to change.
Over time accountability began to feel less like shepherding and more like surveillance.
Student leaders were encouraged to closely observe the lives of others. Conversations were monitored. Relationships were scrutinized. Some friendships were discouraged while others were quietly encouraged.
What was meant to be spiritual oversight slowly began to feel like control.
Several friends experienced intense pressure over their relationships and personal decisions. Their lives were dissected under the language of discipline and accountability.
Ironically, some of the couples who faced the greatest resistance eventually built strong marriages and faithful ministry lives. Some of these couples are among the strongest ministry families I know today.
And to those who walked away from ministry during those years, I want to say something plainly: I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that anyone ever made you feel like they had the authority to crush your calling or manipulate your future.
You may never hear an apology from the people who hurt you.
But please hear this much—what happened to you was not right.
And your calling was never theirs to control.
To the Leaders Who Did It Right
But it would be unfair to tell this story as if every leader in that season failed us.
Because that simply isn’t true.
Some of the pastors and professors who taught us did the exact opposite.
They treated students with patience.
They corrected us without humiliating us.
They saw our calling before we fully understood it ourselves.
Some of them welcomed students like me—students without ministry pedigrees, students who didn’t quite fit the mold, students who sometimes asked too many questions—and they treated us like we belonged anyway.
They did not care where we came from.
They cared about who God was forming us to become.
Those leaders shaped me more than they probably realize.
Their kindness reminded me that Christian authority does not have to look like control.
It can look like mentorship.
It can look like quiet encouragement.
It can look like someone taking the time to answer a confused student with patience instead of pride.
To those leaders—if you ever read this—thank you.
You were proof that spiritual authority can be exercised with humility.
And for many of us, your example is one of the reasons we stayed.
When It Became Personal
Eventually those tensions reached my own life.
During my senior year, I began a relationship with the woman who would later become my wife.
At the time I was serving as a student leader in the men’s dorm. I had worked hard and believed deeply in the mission of the school.
But when that relationship began, the tone of several conversations changed.
What had once felt like mentorship began to feel like pressure.
At one point I was told that continuing the relationship could jeopardize an opportunity that had previously been offered to me after graduation.
I remember walking away from that conversation feeling torn.
Part of me wanted to remain loyal to the institution that had shaped so much of my life.
But another part of me knew something about the situation felt deeply wrong.
Eventually I made a decision.
I chose to pursue the relationship that would later become my marriage.
Looking back now, I can say without hesitation that it was one of the best decisions I have ever made.
Words That Stay With You
Another moment from those years still lingers in my memory.
During a lecture on the letters of Paul, I asked a question because I genuinely did not understand something being discussed.
Instead of guidance, I was mocked in front of the class.
For someone who had already battled depression and suicidal thoughts earlier in life, those words landed harder than the professor likely realized.
Words spoken by leaders carry weight.
Sometimes far more weight than they realize.
For some of my peers, experiences like these pushed them away from ministry entirely.
Some even walked away from the church.
And that reality still weighs on me today.
A Word to Christian Leaders
If you are a pastor, professor, or ministry leader, I want to say something gently but honestly.
Many of the young people sitting under your leadership carry tender hearts.
Some come from broken homes.
Some carry wounds you may never see.
Some—like me—arrive without a ministry pedigree but with a sincere desire to serve God.
They are still figuring out who they are.
Your words matter.
Your tone matters.
The way you exercise authority matters.
Leadership in the kingdom of God is never meant to crush young hearts in the name of discipline.
It is meant to shepherd them.
There is a difference between correction and humiliation.
There is a difference between guidance and control.
And when leaders forget that difference, the damage can follow people for years.
The Story God Was Writing
For a long time I wrestled with what those years meant.
There were moments when the manipulation, favoritism, and harsh leadership I experienced made me question whether I even belonged in ministry.
But God has a way of writing a better story than the one people try to assign to you.
By God’s grace, I graduated at the top of my class.
Not long after, I went on to complete a Master of Divinity and continued pursuing the calling God had placed on my life.
Looking back now, I see something I could not see then.
The season that could have crushed my calling actually clarified it.
It forced me to wrestle with questions about leadership, humility, and the responsibility that comes with spiritual authority.
And it helped shape the kind of minister I never want to become.
A Word to Those Considering Ministry
If you are a young person considering ministry, I want to speak directly to you.
Do not let stories like mine scare you away from the calling God has placed on your life.
Every institution has flaws. Every generation of leaders has blind spots. And sometimes the people who are meant to mentor you will disappoint you.
But the failures of people do not cancel the faithfulness of God.
Your calling does not come from an institution.
It does not come from a professor, a dean, or a pastor.
Your calling comes from God.
And if God is the one who called you, no human system has the authority to take that calling away.
Hold onto humility.
Seek mentors who demonstrate both truth and grace.
And if you ever find yourself in leadership one day, remember what it felt like to be the student sitting in the room.
Lead people with patience.
Lead people with integrity.
Lead people with the kind of care that reflects the heart of Christ.
Because ministry is not about building influence.
It is about shepherding souls.
Why I Still Believe
Even with everything that happened during those years, I still believe deeply in the church.
Not because institutions are perfect.
But because Christ is.
The failures of people in leadership do not erase the truth of the gospel.
If anything, they remind us why the gospel is needed so desperately.
And if my story can help even one leader pause before exercising authority carelessly, then telling it is worth it.
Because ministry should never be about protecting power.
It should always be about protecting people.
The altar is where pride dies.
The pit is where calling proves it was real.