At the Crossroads with Jesus

Jeremiah 6:16
Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.

I was driving home late at night from an elder meeting, feeling bullied and bloodied by men I had once trusted to stand beside me in shepherding the church. Objectively, it was an exciting season—our church was growing, the Gospel was taking root in post-Christian Austin—but I had made a staffing decision that was more pastorally sensitive than business-driven. That single decision created friction with an elder who quietly built a case against me. By the time we sat in that room, things had escalated so far that all I could do was sit through two hours of interrogation, feeling less like a pastor and more like a criminal suspect.

When the meeting ended and I limped out to my car, the denominational consultant called. He told me I had been right to extend grace, but warned it could take five years or more to oust the toxic elder and heal the leadership culture. Hanging up, I knew I had reached a crossroads: Would I stay and slug it out for half a decade, or was it time to move on for the sake of my family, my sanity, and my faith?

If you’re in ministry leadership, you may carry wounds like this. You may face the same gut-wrenching questions I wrestled with: declining attendance, political division, moral failures, betrayal by those you trusted. You may hear The Clash’s words echo in your soul: “Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble, and if I stay it will be double.”

These are brutally hard choices. You trained for years, asked your family to sacrifice, poured yourself out for the Kingdom—and now it all feels like it’s hanging by a thread. The questions are relentless: Was I wrong about my calling? Is this what faithfulness to Jesus looks like? God, are You still with me? I’ve asked them all.

If you find yourself limping out of meetings, nursing wounds you never expected, or staring down the question, Should I stay or should I go?—know this: you are not alone. Elijah sat under the broom tree, Jeremiah shook his fist at God, and Paul himself “despaired of life itself.” You are in good company when the call feels unbearable.

But here’s the deeper truth: the invitation isn’t just about your job. It’s about Jesus. He is asking, Will you trust Me here? Will you let Me carry the weight? Sometimes faithfulness looks like staying and enduring. Sometimes it looks like leaving with courage. Either way, His presence is steady, His yoke is light, and His call is first to Himself—not just to a role.

And here’s the hardest part: the wounds that drive us to isolate are almost always wounds inflicted by community. When God’s people cut the deepest, it feels safer to withdraw. But healing rarely comes in solitude—it comes when we risk stepping back into fellowship. That takes courage, but it is the way of Jesus, who was betrayed by friends yet still chose love.

I don’t write this as an idealist, but as one who has been bloodied too. I’ve been in those rooms where trust collapsed, where the blows landed hardest, where I wondered if I had strength to stay. But by God’s mercy I can also say this: redemption is God’s specialty. Hope can rise again. Guard your heart against the wolves, yes—but look for mentors and companions who know the cost of ministry, who have been through the fire, and who will walk beside you as you discern your next steps.

Wherever the crossroads leads, remember:

Exodus 14:14
The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.

He has not abandoned you. He will finish the work He began in you—and often He does it not in spite of the wounds, but through them.