There’s a conversation I thought I had already shared in a previous part of my story, but I cannot seem to find it. Maybe I only said it in one of my recent interviews? I’m not sure. Speaking of those interviews, if you haven’t seen them yet, you can find them here and here. Anyway, I guess I’ll begin this part of the story with that conversation.
It was in the late spring or summer of 2021, during the second wave. Restaurants that had managed to survive Covid were beginning to see their customers return in greater numbers. I went to lunch with a pastor friend of mine, who was also a mentor to me in many ways. He knew what a struggle Covid had been for me, but I’m not sure he knew how the many deaths in my church were affecting me. I’m not even sure I knew. Not fully, anyway.
We were talking about many different things, but as usual, our conversation kept returning to life in pastoral ministry. He asked me at one point, “What would you say you learned through your experiences with Covid?”
I gave him two answers.
I don’t think I’m prepared to write about my first answer. Not yet. It doesn’t pertain to the matter at hand anyway. But for my second answer, I said, “I learned that when the day comes that I am no longer a pastor, I really want to focus on being a parishioner who supports the leadership of the church.” His retirement was fast approaching, so this was relevant to him as well, and we discussed it for quite a while.
Now, I mention this conversation for a couple of reasons…
First, it demonstrates how, as early as spring or summer of 2021, I was already envisioning the end of my ministry as a pastor. I had no timeline in mind, of course, but I was entertaining the idea.
Second, it will help me explain what it was like to find myself warming up to, and then coming to favor, the Catholic Church.
You see, I’m an analyzer. I’m a scenario runner. This sometimes drives Cami crazy!
By the time my mentor and I met for lunch, I had already told God that if he was intending to lead me out of pastoral ministry, I would follow. And once I had given voice to that, I inevitably began running scenarios in my mind. These included context-specific speculations, such as the circumstances God might use to call me out of ordained ministry. But they also included evaluations of what denomination might be a likely fit for Cami and me when I was no longer a pastor.
This was not a rejection of my own denomination, by the way. I just knew that I wouldn’t be able to stay in it. You see, because of Cami’s responsibilities to her sister, there was no way we would be moving out of our hometown. But it wouldn’t be fair to our church, or its next pastor, if I remained there once I had resigned. That would have been disruptive.
And I couldn’t go to one of our sister churches in a nearby town, because that would have made it difficult to transition out of pastoral ministry, since I would have been frequently asked to preach. This ended up happening anyway, even though we didn’t land in any of our sister churches!
So, I knew that if and when the day came when I actually resigned, we would need to make a denominational change. And it didn’t take long for me to start evaluating and running scenarios accordingly. Where would we go? Would it be in our hometown or in a neighboring city? What were my theological non-negotiables?
Now, as you might imagine, the Catholic Church was not a part of the ecclesiological calculus I was doing. Honestly, my best guess was that we would end up in a Missouri Synod Lutheran Church. But after my lunch with Keith and after I began reading the Catechism of the Catholic Church, I was surprised to find myself considering the Catholic Church as a viable option.
It’s important to remember that all this took place over time. My lunch with Keith was two years after my lunch with my mentor. And it was another year or so after that before my views on the Catholic Church had transformed.
I’ve been asked several times how I could have been open to the Catholic Church, when so many of its doctrines conflict with Reformed doctrines—doctrines that I was confessionally bound to affirm and promote as a Reformed pastor. There’s been an assumption on the part of some, and at times even an accusation, that the real reason I resigned was so that we could be Catholic, and that the burnout story is actually just a cover story, grounded in deceit.
On the one hand, I understand the perception and how the suspicion and accusations naturally flow from it. After all, it’s not like I was advertising how burned out I was, so it’s easy to interpret events through the lens of their conclusion.
On the other hand, these accusations hurt. They are statements of distrust. They communicate an unwillingness to believe that we are who we’ve always been. They overlook the struggles we went through for years. And they ignore the fact that when your own wife isn’t in a place where she can entertain the idea of resigning, it’s not the sort of thing you talk about openly with other people.
That said, the question remains: How was I processing all this while being confessionally bound as a Reformed pastor? I’ll answer that next time.
*******
Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you had a Merry Christmas and that 2026 is off to a blessed start! In our family, two birthdays are included in the holiday mix, so our house has been very busy. Cami and I also celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary on December 30! Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!
As always, thank you for your interest in my story and for the support you’ve shown. I am truly grateful. I’m also eager to share some upcoming opportunities with you, and I should be able to do so soon.
May the Lord bless and keep you all.
Gloria in excelsis Deo
Aaron
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