Another church leaders meeting began.
Nothing is really quite what it seems ever. Life is complicated.
There is more than one side to any story.
To those looking on from the outside they may not have a clue as to what the chemistry is in the group. Even those in the pot are not sure what's going on?!
But, God can make delicious creations from moldy, rotten, and weird ingredients?! He has done so much with so little for so long one begins to understand that he can do anything with practically nothing!
There IS much hope.
The Table of Five Shepherds
In a small town there stood an old church with a long wooden table in its meeting room. One evening, five leaders gathered there to plan the future of the church. Mike could not make it to the meeting, but he sent a text with a full agenda.
They were all shepherds of the same flock, yet each carried something different in his heart.
The first man walked slowly into the room with the help of a crutch. Long ago he had been wounded—by criticism, betrayal, and disappointment. Though his body bore a limp, the deeper limp was in his spirit. He spoke cautiously, trusting no one too quickly.
The second man spoke loudly as he sat down. He laughed easily and offered confident answers to every problem. Yet those around the table knew his words often came before his thinking. His confidence was larger than his wisdom.
The third man stared at the plans on the table with tired eyes. Papers, ideas, and ministry burdens weighed on him. He cared deeply for the people, but he felt like a man trying to carry the whole church on his shoulders.
The fourth man sat straight and polished his glasses as others spoke. When the conversation turned to the church’s success, he gently reminded everyone of his sermons, his programs, and his leadership. In every story, somehow, he stood at the center.
The fifth man leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“That will never work,” he said to the first idea.
“We tried that before,” he said to the second.
“The world is too far gone,” he muttered about the third.
And so the five men talked for hours, but little was decided. One commented, “Mike Roe Manger” could have helped tonight? But, he was “NEEDED” at work. They all laughed.
Late in the meeting, the old church custodian quietly entered to empty the trash. He listened for a moment as the leaders debated.
Then he asked a simple question.
“Gentlemen,” he said gently, “whose church are you planning?”
The room grew quiet.
The wounded man realized his pain had been guiding his decisions.
The foolish man realized his words had outrun his wisdom.
The struggling man realized he had been carrying a burden meant
for God.
The proud man realized he had been building his own name.
The pessimistic man realized he had forgotten hope.
And, the micromanager, well he was busy elsewhere.
The custodian picked up his broom and said one more thing before leaving.
“A church grows best,” he said, “when the shepherds remember they are also sheep.”
And the five men sat quietly around the table, realizing that before they could lead the flock, each of them still needed the Shepherd. 🕊️
And ...
When the Shepherd Entered the Room
The five leaders were still sitting at the table long after their plans had stopped moving forward.
Papers were scattered across the wood. Coffee cups had grown cold. The room was heavy with frustration.
The wounded man rubbed his tired leg.
The foolish man shuffled papers, pretending to read them.
The struggling man stared at the plans as though they were weights pressing on his chest.
The proud man checked his reflection in the dark window.
The pessimistic man sighed again and shook his head.
Just then the door quietly opened.
None of them heard footsteps. Yet suddenly there was someone standing at the end of the table.
A man.
He looked ordinary at first, yet there was something about his presence that made the room feel different—like the air had grown lighter and heavier at the same time.
No one had invited him.
Yet somehow they all knew who he was.
It was Jesus.
He looked at the plans spread across the table, the charts, the strategies, the ideas for growing the church.
Then he looked at the men.
Not quickly.
Carefully.
As though he could see straight through them.
He walked slowly around the table and stopped behind the wounded leader. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he said,
“You were hurt while feeding my sheep. I saw it. But you do not need to limp forever.”
The man lowered his head and wept quietly.
Then Jesus turned to the loud one.
“You speak much,” he said kindly, “but wisdom grows best in listening.”
For the first time that evening, the man said nothing.
Next he stood beside the exhausted leader with the papers.
“You are trying to carry what belongs to me,” Jesus said. “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
The man’s shoulders slowly relaxed.
Then Jesus faced the confident leader who loved recognition.
“You are building something,” Jesus said.
The man smiled slightly.
But Jesus continued,
“The question is—whose kingdom?”
The smile faded.
Finally Jesus stood beside the man leaning back in his chair.
“You have seen many failures,” Jesus said. “But you have forgotten something.”
The man looked up.
“I am still alive,” Jesus said.
Hope stirred in the room like the first light before sunrise.
Then Jesus walked to the center of the table. He gently moved aside the stacks of plans and placed his hand flat on the wood.
“You are trying to plan the church,” he said.
He paused.
“But the church was my idea.”
The room was silent.
Then he looked at them all and said one final thing.
“Follow me.”
And in that moment the five leaders understood something they had forgotten.
The church was never meant to be built by crippled strength, foolish confidence, exhausted effort, proud ambition, or hopeless fear.
It would only ever be built by people who walked behind the Shepherd. 🕊️
And ...
“The Morning After the Meeting.”
The sun rose quietly over the small town, spilling pale light across the steeple of the old church.
Inside the meeting room, the long wooden table looked much the
same as it had the night before—papers scattered, coffee cups half empty,
chairs pushed back.
But the men who had sat there were not quite the same.
The wounded leader arrived first.
He stood at the door for a long moment before entering. The crutch
was still under his arm, and the old pain was still in his leg. But something
else had changed.
For the first time in years, he prayed for the people who had hurt
him.
Not because he felt strong.
But because the Shepherd had seen his wound.
And somehow that made the limp easier to carry.
The foolish leader came next.
Normally he would burst into the room talking, telling stories,
filling the silence with his voice.
But this morning he walked in quietly.
He opened his Bible and began to read.
Not to prepare something to say.
Just to listen.
The struggling leader entered slowly with the same stack of papers from the night before.
He looked at the plans.
Then he folded them.
Not because the work was unimportant, but because he remembered
the words:
“My yoke is easy.”
For the first time in months, he left the office and went to visit
someone who was lonely.
The work of the church suddenly felt lighter.
The proud leader arrived carefully dressed as always.
He glanced at the table where he had once placed his ideas at the
center.
This morning he quietly moved the chair to the side of the table
instead.
Not because he had become small.
But because he had remembered who the real builder of the church
was.
The pessimistic leader came last.
The world still looked broken to him.
The problems of the church had not disappeared overnight.
But when he looked at the empty chair at the end of the table, he
remembered the words spoken there:
“I am still alive.”
For the first time in years, he said something different.
“Maybe,” he whispered, “God isn’t finished yet.”
By mid-morning the church building looked the same as it always had.
The same walls.
The same pews.
The same people.
But something invisible had shifted.
Because five leaders had remembered something simple:
They were never meant to run the church.
They were meant to follow the Shepherd.
And though none of them said it out loud, each of them carried the
same quiet hope in their hearts:
Perhaps someday…
When they gathered again around that old wooden table…
The Shepherd might walk into the room again. 🕊️
Maybe Mike will be there next time. He’s somewhat like “Doubting Thomas”?!
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