by Michael Pumphrey

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There was a season in the church I was leading when momentum had been building, and from the outside the next step seemed obvious: keep going, keep adding, keep expanding. But I could feel something different under the surface.

We had grown for a season, and then it felt like we had stalled. Not stopped. Not failed. Just stalled. The next season was going to require something different than the last season required.

At first, my instinct was to move. I am wired to see what could be next and to start building toward it quickly. But this time I knew I could not just push harder. I had to measure.

I had to measure my own capacity. After years of leading, I knew I was running on fumes. Walking with families through heartbreaking life experiences, the revolving door of leading in a military town, and building the right staff on a small budget had taken a toll. And there was life outside of church leadership too.

I also had to measure the capacity of the church. Across our core families, many were tired from their own life situations and from the compiled stress of leading in a small church on the edge of becoming something more like a medium-sized church. Many were carrying multiple roles. Adding more would not automatically make us healthier. In some places, adding more would have hurt rather than helped.

Jesus once asked, “Which of you, wanting to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost?” He was speaking about discipleship, but the wisdom applies deeply to leadership. Before we build, we measure. Before we move, we count the cost. Before we ask people to carry more, we need to ask whether they have the capacity to carry it faithfully.

That was the hard work of that season. I could not rush it. I could not ignore it. Roles had to be redefined, including some of my own. Leaders had to be developed and recruited. I had to find the right coaching, help, reading, mentoring, and pace. It was going to require leadership muscles I had not grown yet—slowly and sustainably.  

That season taught me something I now believe more deeply than ever: churches do not only need vision for change. They need capacity for change.

Capacity is not simply what a church can do. It is what a church can faithfully carry.

When churches talk about capacity, we often move quickly to budget, attendance, and staff. Those things matter, but they are not the whole picture. Jesus did not have a large budget, impressive attendance by modern church metrics, or a professional ministry staff. But he did have people. He had disciples. He formed a community with the spiritual, relational, and missional capacity to carry the good news into the world.

Capacity is emotional: can our people tell the truth without becoming defensive or reactive?

It is spiritual: are we discerning God’s voice beneath anxiety, nostalgia, pressure, and preference?

It is relational: do we have enough trust to have honest conversations and stay at the table?

It is leadership: do we have leaders healthy, clear, and resilient enough to guide people through uncertainty?

It is organizational: do our systems, structures, pace, and decisions support health, or quietly exhaust people?

This builds on what we have already named in this series: the ground has shifted, every church has a gravity shaping it, and people experience change differently. Now we have to ask another question: What can we actually carry?

There is a difference between faith and force. Faith listens for God’s invitation and steps forward with trust. Force pushes people beyond health and calls the exhaustion obedience.

This does not mean churches should avoid hard things. Leadership will always involve courage, risk, and movement. But faithful leadership also pays attention to limits. Limits are not usually signs of weakness or disobedience but are often rather invitations to formation. They reveal where trust needs to be rebuilt, leaders need to be developed, and systems need to be strengthened.

That is difficult in a culture that often treats limits as something to blaze through. We are told to push harder, move faster, and refuse restraint. But discipleship teaches us something different. True growth is not simply more activity. True growth looks like emotional maturity, relational honesty, spiritual depth, and a greater capacity to love God and neighbor faithfully.

So before a church moves too quickly into the next change, it may need to sit down and measure. Not to avoid change, but to prepare for it. Not to lower expectations, but to become healthy enough to carry what God is inviting it to become.

Because faithful change cannot be forced.

It has to be formed.

Rev. Michael Pumphrey is BGAV’s director of coaching.

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This article is the fourth in a series of six on leadership by Michael Pumphrey.

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