Ministry in the Middle Seat

Let me set the scene: I'm in seat 14B. Middle seat. One armrest already claimed. A man to my right who breathes like he's testing a foghorn. A woman to my left who's made her laptop my personal tray table. And I'm stuck, somewhere between where I took off and where I'm headed.

Welcome to ministry.

Not all the time, of course. Some days feel like the aisle seat. Freedom, movement, maybe even a soda with ice. Other days, you're in the window seat, dreaming big and soaking in the view. But a lot of ministry? It's the middle seat. Cramped. Uncomfortable. No real control. And someone's elbow is always in your space.

The In-Between

Ministry often lives in the tension. Between the church you are and the one you're becoming. Between real hurt and challenges and the hope for something better. Between planning and those unexpected moments that throw it all off. It's that space where you're loving people right where they are, while praying they become more of who God made them to be.

I used to think leadership was about casting vision and getting people somewhere fast. I had charts. I had timelines. I had this beautiful picture of what we could become, and I was pretty sure if I just presented it clearly enough, everyone would get on board.

Turns out, it's more about sitting with them during the turbulence, helping them breathe, and trying not to lose your own calm in the process.

Vision Without Love Feels Like Pressure

You can have a strong vision, a sharp strategy, and great slides. But if people don't feel seen, it just feels like pressure. Like you're trying to move them instead of walking with them.

I learned this the hard way during a staff meeting where I was pushing for changes that I knew would help us reach more people. Good changes. Necessary changes. But halfway through my presentation, I could see it in their faces. They felt like obstacles to overcome, not partners in the vision. One person finally said, "It feels like you're disappointed in who we are right now."

That landed like a punch. Because they were right. I was so focused on who we could become that I'd forgotten to love who we were.

Loving in the Long Middle

Here's what I've figured out:

People aren't moved by what you see. They're moved by how you see them.

When someone feels valued for who they are today, they're more willing to step into who they could be tomorrow.

One of the best compliments I ever got came from a staff member who said, "I never feel like a project to you." That stuck with me. Because I don't want to just get people somewhere. I want to walk with them even when the destination's unclear.

That's the heart of a shepherd. Not just thinking ahead, but being fully present. Seeing the potential in someone while also seeing their current struggle. Celebrating small steps while holding onto bigger dreams.

And it's messy. You celebrate a baptism Sunday, then have a hard conversation Monday about someone who's been stirring up drama. Someone steps into leadership, then disappears for three months. You'll have meetings where you solve world hunger and meetings where you debate the color of the bulletin. It's frustrating and holy at the same time. And painfully slow.

But that's often where God works best. In the middle seat. In the tension. In the space between what is and what could be.

So What Now?

If you're leading from the middle seat right now, let me say something you probably won't hear in your next strategy meeting: what you're doing matters. Even when it feels like you're making no progress. Even when the same issues keep coming up. Even when you wonder if anyone actually cares about the vision you're carrying.

Keep showing up. Keep seeing people. Keep listening when you're tired of hearing the same complaints. Keep pointing to Jesus, even when you're not sure how it all ends up.

The middle seat may not be fun, but it's close to where God is moving. And honestly?

Sometimes the best conversations happen when you're a little uncomfortable, a little pressed in, with nowhere to go but forward.

That's enough reason to stay buckled in.