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Ministry Cancer - Dying To Serve book cover

You're doing everything right.
And it's killing you.

You've done everything you were supposed to do. So why does it feel like something is dying? Not the ministry. You. This is a pastor's story of how close he came to losing everything. Read the preface now.

You're doing everything right.
And it's killing you.

You've done everything you were supposed to do. So why does it feel like something is dying? Not the ministry. You. This is a pastor's story of how close he came to losing everything. Read the preface now.

You said yes again. You know you shouldn't have. But the look on their face. The need in their voice. The guilt if you don't. So you'll figure it out. You always do. Cancel something. Skip something. Apologize to someone at home. Again.

You're fine. You're handling it. It's just a season. You've been saying that for years.

The sermon still gets written. The hospital visits still happen. The smile still works on Sunday. But somewhere between the parking
lot and your pillow, you lose yourself. Every single day.

Your spouse doesn't nag anymore. They just got quiet. Your kids stopped asking if you'd be at the game. They already know the answer. And that thing you used to feel—that fire, that calling, that sense this mattered—you can't remember the last time you felt it.

You're not burned out.

Burnout is what you tell yourself so you don't have to face what's really happening.

You said yes again. You know you shouldn't have. But the look on their face. The need in their voice. The guilt if you don't. So you'll figure it out. You always do. Cancel something. Skip something. Apologize to someone at home. Again.

You're fine. You're handling it. It's just a season. You've been saying that for years.

The sermon still gets written. The hospital visits still happen. The smile still works on Sunday. But somewhere between the parking
lot and your pillow, you lose yourself. Every single day.

Your spouse doesn't nag anymore. They just got quiet. Your kids stopped asking if you'd be at the game. They already know the answer. And that thing you used to feel—that fire, that calling, that sense this mattered—you can't remember the last time you felt it.

You're not burned out.

Burnout is what you tell yourself so you don't have to face what's really happening.

THE NUMBERS DON'T LIE

You've probably seen these statistics before and still nothing changes.

THE NUMBERS DON'T LIE

You've probably seen these statistics before, and still nothing changes.

42%

considered quitting in 2022

40%

at high risk of burnout 

1 in 3

has a close friend outside church

2 in 5

often feel isolated

It's Not Burnout. It's Worse.

There are five toxic patterns hiding inside ministry. They look like faithfulness. They feel like obedience. They're killing you.

It's Not Burnout.

It's Worse.

There are five toxic patterns hiding inside ministry. They look like faithfulness. They feel like obedience. They're killing you.

The Martyrdom Machine

Exhaustion feels like devotion. Rest feels like betrayal. You wear your tiredness like a badge—and it's eating you alive.

The Performance Prison

Your last sermon is your worth. One bad Sunday and the spiral starts. You're not leading anymore—you're auditioning.

The People-Pleasing Pandemic

Every request is from God. Every "no" is failure. Your calendar belongs to everyone except the people you love.

The Perfection Mask

You're the shepherd who doesn't struggle. The counselor who has it together. The fraud who can never be found out.

The Control Complex

If you want it done right, you do it yourself. You've built a ministry that can't survive without you—and neither can you.

I HAD ALL FIVE. THEY ALMOST KILLED ME.

I Found a Way Out

Thirty years in ministry. Conferences. Strategies. A reputation for helping other pastors avoid burnout. But I was dying the whole time.

It took four medical diagnoses—including a neurologist telling me to get my affairs in order—before I stopped long enough to see what I had become.

Five years later, I'm still in ministry. But everything is different. I sleep. I laugh. My wife and I talk again—really talk. I say no without guilt. I pastor from overflow, not fumes.

I wrote this book because I don't want you to need a health crisis to wake up. There's a way out that doesn't require losing everything.

The preface tells the whole story. What happened. What I missed. What finally broke through—and what's possible on the other side.

It's free. And it might be the most uncomfortable thing you read this year.

I HAD ALL FIVE. THEY ALMOST KILLED ME.

I Found a Way Out.

Thirty years in ministry. Conferences. Strategies. A reputation for helping other pastors avoid burnout. But I was dying the whole time.

It took four medical diagnoses—including a neurologist telling me to get my affairs in order—before I stopped long enough to see what I'd become.

Five years later, I'm still in ministry. But everything is different. I sleep. I laugh. My wife and I talk again—really talk. I say no without guilt. I pastor from overflow, not fumes.

I wrote this book because I don't want you to need a health crisis to wake up. There's a way out that doesn't require losing everything first.

The preface tells the whole story. What happened. What I missed. What finally broke through—and what's possible on the other side.

It's free. And it might be the most uncomfortable thing you read this year.

  YOU'VE KNOWN FOR AWHILE

Something Is Wrong

The preface won't fix everything. But it will help you finally name what's happening,
see the patterns you've been missing, and understand that healing is possible.

YOU'VE KNOWN FOR AWHILE

Something Is Wrong

The preface won't fix everything. But it will help you finally name what's happening, see the patterns you've been missing, and understand that healing is possible.