Growing up, I was painfully shy, afraid to speak in class or do anything that might draw attention to myself. Self-doubt shadowed me, limiting what I tried and even how I understood the gifts God had given me.
Now, I realize how much those years of low self-esteem shaped the way I moved through the world. When we don’t believe in our worth, we shrink. We silence our voices, we let our fear dictate what’s possible. It’s not that we aren’t gifted; it’s that we don’t trust ourselves to use those gifts.
Many churches – especially smaller ones – suffer from a similar kind of self-doubt, comparing themselves to larger congregations with bigger budgets, professional choirs, multiple staff. They look at their aging buildings and declining membership and wonder, What do we have to offer?
This crisis of confidence is magnified by another painful reality: many churches struggle to find a pastor. They search for months, sometimes years, with few, if any, applicants. When they can’t find someone willing to move to their town or serve for their modest salary package, it’s easy to believe they have nothing worth claiming.
But that’s not true.
Related reading: “The vital congregation of tomorrow” by Mark Elsdon
Our churches’ value isn’t defined by a full-time pastor or a packed sanctuary. The church is not a building or a budget line; it’s the living body of Christ. Pastors are gifts, yes — but so are ruling elders, deacons, educators, musicians, youth leaders, and the quiet saints who show up early to make coffee and stay late to stack chairs. God equips the church for ministry, no matter its size.
Church self-esteem matters, because how we see ourselves shapes how we serve. A congregation convinced of its inadequacy will move timidly through the world. But a church that remembers its calling — that sees itself as beloved, purposeful, and capable of blessing others — radiates with energy.
John Calvin Presbyterian Church in Bridgeton, Missouri, typically has about 35 people in Sunday worship, and, for many years, didn’t have a pastor. When another church in their area sought a sponsor for a Ukrainian family through the Uniting for Ukraine program, John Calvin’s members wanted to help but assumed they were too small. “We can donate,” they said, “but we can’t sponsor.”
Then they saw a picture of the Prokhodov family — mom, dad, and three elementary-aged children — and fell in love. They co-sponsored the family with another congregation and set a goal to raise $24,000 for airfare, rent, utilities, and living expenses for one year. They started a GoFundMe page and invited other churches to help. They exceeded their goal, raising over $25,300, and today, the Prokhodovs are thriving. Both parents have jobs, the children are doing well in school, and the congregation still surrounds them with love and support.
Amy Brixey, a ruling elder and one of the leaders of this mission effort, told me, “I didn’t want to do this at all. I’m not smart about these things. I’m not worldly. But I had five people who agreed to help me. God gives everyone gifts. Together, our team of five had the perfect body of gifts. And the church could feel and see the Spirit working among us — and in the lives and smiles of this family. God moved us to this.”
That’s the beauty of a church rediscovering its confidence. When a congregation stops fixating on what it lacks and instead trusts that God has provided what it needs, it becomes a lamp giving light “to all in the house.”
Related reading: “Simply surviving is not enough: A call to take one step forward” by Phillip Blackburn
In Matthew 5:14-15, Jesus tells his disciples, “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house.”
So, to every church feeling inadequate: lift your lamp high. Tend that light with love and courage, and it will shine with a vitality that can warm and guide the whole household of God. The world is dim in places, hungry for hope. Your light — yes, yours — was made to shine.
