After sixteen years in youth ministry, I resigned from my position during one of the messiest seasons of my life.

Usually, when I tell that part of my story, people ask where I went after I resigned from my church. Obviously, I would have to go somewhere. Some youth pastors take a break from church after something like that. It’s too fresh, too painful, too hard to stay connected to the rhythms of church work. I never considered it.

My kids had a big part to play in that. They loved our church and the youth group we called home. So we stayed. We go to a large enough church that some people still assume I’m on staff. Mostly because I’m still around and because not everyone keeps up with youth ministry news. People are busy living their own lives, and that’s fine.

After a long search, our church found a new middle school pastor to take my place. He’s a great guy. We grabbed coffee a month after he started and have met several times since. My kids love him. They think he’s awesome. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

I intentionally stayed away from the youth ministry for a while. Two years actually. I joined an adult Bible study, got involved in men’s ministry, and joined a small group with my wife. I became a “normal” member, no title and no spotlight. But still, I love youth ministry. I’ve never wanted to do anything else. I get to encourage and support youth pastors through Standing Stone. I cohost The Middle School Ministry Podcast with Andrea Miller. I even get to speak at churches and retreats now and then. I was still around youth ministry, but I didn’t feel like I was really doing youth ministry.

So I asked our Student Pastor if I could come back and serve. I made it clear that I wasn’t asking for my old position. I wasn’t demanding anything. I was just asking. If it made things weird or difficult, I didn’t want to do it. Graciously, they said yes.

Now I co-lead a small group of sixth grade boys, and it’s every bit as chaotic and wonderful as I remember. This fall marks my first time back in the trenches, serving in youth ministry again. Looking back, there are a few things that helped me move from where I was to where I am today.

First, open hands. Whenever someone asked if I’d go back into youth ministry, I’d hold out my hand, palm up. That’s how I wanted to approach it—open-handed. Willing, but not clinging. I didn’t want ministry to become an idol I couldn’t let go of. I had to say it a lot before I actually believed it, but that posture helped my heart catch up to my words.

Second, an open heart. I had to do a lot of soul work. I didn’t know who I was outside of youth ministry. If I wasn’t a youth pastor, especially to my own kids, who was I? Through prayer, mentors, and honest reflection, I learned my identity starts with being a child of God. Then a husband. Then a dad. Everything else comes after that. That order changed everything for me.

Third, waiting well. I hate waiting. It’s the worst. But I needed that season of being away. The ministry had to grow and shift without me. And I needed to learn how to simply be—to sit in the pew, to be “just” a dad, “just” a member, “just” part of a small group. That waiting season helped me practice patience and trust God’s timing. So when the moment came to step back in, I could do it with my whole heart.

Finally, cheering on. I haven’t told the new guy one thing I’d change. It’s not my ministry anymore. I was a steward for a season, and now it’s his turn. Every youth pastor will be replaced someday when we move, retire, resign, or get promoted. Someone else will take the spot we once held. And that’s good. That’s healthy. Christian, our new pastor, does things differently than I would, of course. He’s not me, and I’m not him. God uniquely equipped him for this season. The best thing I can do is cheer him on.

So what does this mean for me? It means I’m back in youth ministry. Not leading from the stage, but sitting on the floor with sixth grade boys shouting “6-7” at the top of their lungs. And I get to share Jesus with them. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.