When God Asks You to Release What You Love
There is a quiet fear most leaders never name out loud. It surfaces late at night or in the margins of board conversations. It sounds like this: If I step away, will anything I’ve done actually last?
For ministry leaders, especially founders, the work is never just work. It carries prayer, sacrifice, identity, and often deep personal cost. Ministries are born out of obedience, but over time they can quietly become mirrors. Reflections of our competence, endurance, and worth. And that’s where release becomes so difficult.
Scripture is full of leaders who were faithful but temporary. Moses never entered the Promised Land. David prepared resources for a temple he would never build. John the Baptist famously said, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” None of these endings were failures. They were fulfillments.
Yet modern ministry culture rarely prepares leaders for this kind of faithfulness. We celebrate growth, longevity, and influence. We rarely celebrate good endings.
The truth is, leadership transitions surface grief. Even when they are healthy, planned, and necessary. Grief for what was. Grief for who you were in that season. Grief for the loss of relevance, routine, and recognition. Ignoring that grief doesn’t make transitions easier. It makes them dangerous.
Release requires trust. Not abstract trust, but embodied trust. Trust that God cares more about His Church than you ever could. Trust that obedience is not measured by how long you stay, but by how well you listen. Trust that your worth was never secured by your title.
Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time for everything. Including a time to plant and a time to uproot. Leaders who refuse to acknowledge seasons often cling past their calling, confusing stewardship with control.
But there is another side to release that rarely gets attention. When leaders step away well, space opens. Space for new voices. New imagination. New faith expressions suited for a different generation. This is not loss. It is multiplication.
Jesus Himself modeled this. He limited His earthly ministry. He entrusted it to imperfect followers. He ascended, not because the work was finished, but because it was time for others to carry it forward. That is not abandonment. That is trust.
For leaders in transition, the invitation is not to disappear, but to reorient. To move from being indispensable to being available. To shift from driving vision to discerning presence. Often, the most meaningful ministry happens without platforms, budgets, or applause.
Psalm 127 reminds us that unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain. That truth cuts both ways. It frees us from over-responsibility and from the illusion that everything depends on us.
If you are facing a transition, chosen or forced, ask yourself this: What would it look like to trust God with what I love most? Not just with words, but with your hands open.
Release is not the end of your story. It may be the moment your faith finally becomes uncomplicated.
Matt Davis served as a Teaching and Executive Pastor for more than two decades in Orange County, California. After going through his own pastoral transition out of ministry, Matt learned the difficulty of this season. He helped start Ministry Transitions, a ministry committed to helping ministry leaders navigate transitions with grace. As President, he seeks to bring healing a reconciliation to churches and their people.
