Photo attribute: Richard Croft / Open door

By Mary C. Frances, Executive Director

I recently met a pastor in my new community. In the course of our conversation, we found out that we had some shared history. We were both at a youth event that turned out to be pivotal to our call stories. That conversation has had me reflecting on that time when I first was able to name a sense of call to ministry. When I first felt that stirring of a call to ministry, the picture in my head looked very different from the life I live now.

In my imagination, ministry was a place. It was a sanctuary with pews, a pulpit, and a specific congregation that I would shepherd through the rhythms of life. I imagined hospital visits, wedding rehearsals, baptisms and the weekly grind of sermon preparation. I thought I knew exactly what “vocational ministry” was supposed to look like. And that was my ministry for a while.

And yet, here I am. My work today doesn’t fit neatly into that old blueprint. And while I could not have imagined this path back then, I have never been more certain that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. At FaithX, my work is focused on helping the church shift and change. I know that word—change—can make us uncomfortable. It often triggers a fear that we are being asked to abandon something sacred. But I want to be crystal clear: I am not talking about changing our beliefs.

I remain grounded in the conviction that in the Christian church we are a people defined by Jesus and the power of the resurrection. That is my anchor. That is my foundation. That is non-negotiable. The resurrection gives us hope that death does not have the final word—whether that is physical death, or the death of a program, a building, or an old way of doing things.

So, if the beliefs don’t change, what does? The posture.

The church has to be open to looking outward. For too long, we have invited the world to come to us. “Come to our building. Come to our service. Come to our potluck.” But in a rapidly changing world, that invitation is no longer reaching the people who need to hear “You are loved, you are a precious child of God” the most.

That is why the work I do for FaithX feels so vital. We are helping congregations rediscover what it means to be in relationship with their communities rather than just providing services for them. There is a massive difference between a food pantry where we hand a bag of groceries through a window to a stranger, and a community meal where we sit down and learn the names of that person’s children. One is charity; the other is connection. One maintains a power dynamic, the other builds a relationship dynamic – maybe even a friendship.

We live in a time of immense isolation, anxiety, and fracture. The needs in our communities are raw and visible. The church has the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus not by hiding behind our stained glass, but by stepping into the mess. We are called to respond to those needs—hunger, loneliness, grief, oppression—through the lens of deeper relationship.

We don’t change the Gospel to fit the world; we take the Gospel into the world. We go to where people are, we listen to their stories, and we walk alongside them. That is what Jesus did. He didn’t stay in the Temple; he was on the road, at the well, on the mountainside.

This work is hard. It requires us to admit that the old ways, while comfortable, aren’t working. It asks us to be vulnerable enough to let the community teach us what they need. But it is the most hopeful work I can imagine.

My call to ministry has evolved from shepherding a single flock to helping flocks of all sizes learn how to re-enter the world. It is about equipping the church to stop waiting for the world to show up, and instead, pack up the resurrection hope and go find them.

I do this work because I believe the church can still change the world. But first, we have to be willing to change ourselves and the way we see the world. Ready to explore some seismic shifts? You can always reach us at info@faithx.net.