God is Still Redeeming My Life
Bob Hyatt
December 19, 2012

This post was written by a member of Life on the Vine, an Ecclesia congregation in suburban Chicago.

On October 30, 2004, I found out that my mom had died earlier that morning.  At seven years old that put me into a pit of grief; which I’ve struggled with for the past eight years.  I would have many nights where I would cry myself to sleep and days where I would take out my anger on my brother, sister and anybody that I could without getting in trouble for doing so.  For several years I tried to work through my pain counseling and some other things, but not much seemed to help.  My dad got remarried in 2008 and I felt sad because in my mind, a new mother meant that I had to leave behind the old one, which was a lie that I thankfully later had my eyes opened to.

Over the past few years I have been having long painful conversations with my parents and other family members about my grief.  Often I would break down into tears and sobbing.  At some point I realized that it was as if I had been paying a penance for my mom’s death that I didn’t need to pay.  I felt guilty about being happy and alive while my mom was dead.  Unfortunately, realizing this didn’t mean it was over; I still had more work to do.

Fast forward to this past summer, when I was part of the Youthworks mission team that went to Oklahoma.  While I was there I was able to share my struggles about my mom’s death with my teammates.  Through that I learned to trust non-family members with this heartache.  I felt supported in my struggle and that I had the team’s understanding.  During the trip my relationship with God had been renewed.  I then felt God wrapping me in His love and I knew that somehow I’d make it through.

When October came around this year, I was nervous that it would end up being a pit of despair like every other October had been so far.  Through talking with my dad I was lead to be at peace with the fact that God didn’t owe me an answer as to why she died.  If God wants me to know why my mom died, He’ll tell me, if not, He won’t.  Another thing that helped was that I was able to just think about all the good memories and most importantly about how far I had come from the little boy in the corner worried that everything that could go wrong would.  I also realized, and applied, the fact that just because my mom died doesn’t mean that I did.  I’ve still got a life to live right in front of me.  I now know that I can be sad and grieve her death and not lose hope.

One thing that really helped me was the All Saints Day service that we had a few weeks ago.  It helped me to see that I’ll see my mom one day when there’s no death, sorrow or sickness.  At first it was hard to think of her from a perspective of hope and joy after years of thinking about her with despair and cynicism.  Though I didn’t mention her name when we named those who have gone before us, just bringing her picture and setting it on the altar with the others was another step out of my hole.  I still have those times when grief overwhelms me and I just have to take in sadness like an old friend, have it over for a while and send it out after a day or two; but thankfully God carries me through those days just like He did through the eight years that I felt like a dead man walking. I still have to keep working on this but God has carried me this far and I can say that God has and still is redeeming my life in the midst of this tough situation.

By Bob Hyatt • October 7, 2026
“When God works in us nothing is useless, and nothing is spared.” - Jeannine Brown, Carla Dahl and Wendy Corbin Reuschling, Becoming Whole and Holy “There is no circumstance, no trouble, no testing, that can ever touch me until, first of all, it has gone past God and past Christ, right through to me. If it has come that far, it has come with great purpose, which I may not understand at the moment.” - Alan Redpath Here's something I've noticed about people as they get older: they tend to go one of two ways. They either get sweeter with age or they get crankier. They grow wiser and more like Jesus, or they grow bitter and more like the worst version of themselves. That's because life is formation. Everything we do and everything we go through shapes us one way or the other, mostly depending on how we respond to what happens to us, whether it's extraordinary or completely ordinary. Ministry works the same way. I've watched leaders come out of nearly identical trials in completely different shape. Some come out stronger. Others come out deeply wounded, discouraged, and ready to quit. The difference usually comes down to where they see God in the middle of the struggle, absent or present, and what questions they ask about it. Some ask, "God, why is this happening to me?" Others ask, "God, what could you want to form in me through this?" Both views of God will shape us, and so will both questions. They just shape us in very different directions. In my experience, the most common sin in church leadership is an obsession with numbers and results, paired with neglect of our own souls. On top of that, we rarely stop to notice how those numbers and results, and how ministry itself, are shaping us. So here's my suggestion: stop working so hard to develop your ministry and start noticing that your ministry is developing you. How you handle the realities of church leadership will determine not only what your church becomes but what you become. Leadership and ministry will form you. The only question is: into what? One tool God uses: the fishbowl Some people hesitate to become a pastor because it opens them up to scrutiny, and now and then to outright criticism. When I was a young leader, I hated the "fishbowl effect" of ministry. Everyone was watching me, and my mistakes seemed to count for a lot more than anyone else's. It felt deeply unfair that flaws that wouldn't even register at most people's jobs could cost me my job, my reputation, and my community. Never mind that maybe it bothered me so much because I had such a generous supply of those flaws. After years of living under the steady gaze of critics and cranks, I see the fishbowl differently. These days I actually welcome it. Richard Baxter, a Puritan pastor in the 1600s, put it this way: “While you are as lights set upon a hill, think not to lie hid... do your work as those that remember that the world looks on them... ready to make the worst of all... and to make faults where they cannot find them.”[1] Baxter understood that anyone who calls others to live like Jesus is going to get called out when they don't. His advice? Live like the world is watching, because it is. Some people in your life are ready to yell "Hypocrite!" at the first opportunity, to point out failings they share themselves, and, as Baxter says, even to invent faults when they can't find real ones. And Baxter's fishbowl had a few neighbors peering over the fence. Ours has a livestream, a comment section, and someone screenshotting the announcements. But Baxter goes further. He says we should be glad about it: “As you take yourselves for the lights of the churches, you may expect that men's eyes will be upon you. If other men may sin without observation, so cannot you. And you should thankfully consider how great a mercy this is, that you have so many eyes to watch over you, and so many ready to tell you of your faults; and thus have greater helps than others, at least for restraining you from sin. Though they may do it with a malicious mind, yet you have the advantage of it.” As a Pastor, you have more eyes on you and more people paying attention to how you live. That means you have more help than most in living well and avoiding sin. What some people mean for evil, God means for your good (Genesis 50:20). What looks like a downside of ministry turns out to be a path to maturity, to formation. In practical terms, living your life in front of others pushes you to do what you already know you should do. And it often keeps you out of things you might slide into if nobody were watching. One important caveat: embracing accountability isn't the same as tolerating abuse. Healthy scrutiny sharpens you. A congregant who attacks your spouse or treats your kids like church property is a different problem, and it calls for boundaries, not gratitude. Let's be clear, though: the fishbowl isn't enough on its own. What we're really after is internal: character, a changed heart. But knowing we're living out loud in front of a watching church and a watching world gives us structure, and that structure can help us build the habits and rhythms of holiness we want. As we try to let the heart and character of Christ take deeper root in us, we have the advantage of lots of eyes around us "encouraging" us to stay on the straight and narrow. My sense is that people who embrace this find that, over time, what starts on the outside moves more and more to the inside. Slowly, the choices we make because others are watching become, through habit, real character. Because I know people are watching, I think twice about what I say in public, what I scroll past on my phone, and how I talk to my kids at church or out on the sidewalk in front of the neighbors. More and more, those choices, first made because of an audience, become part of who I am. That's especially true when I treat those moments as kairos [2] moments: times when God breaks in and uses my awareness of a watching world to show me the character He wants to form in me and the choices He'd like me to make. But what if we don't embrace it? What about those who get shipwrecked by moral failure, character flaws, and private sins gone public? People who resent the fishbowl of ministry and the Christian life often end up living one way in public and another in private. It's as if their anger at being scrutinized pushes them into a divided life: they'll play by the rules in public but insist on their own rules in private. Frustrated with the audience around them, so eager to find fault, they forget the true Audience they live before. And as we've all seen from too many spectacular crash-and-burns, the fallout is often devastating. Families, churches, and the reputation of the whole Church take serious damage. Pastors, recognize that your formation is happening, one way or another… and make peace with the fishbowl. It's going to be there whether you like it or not. If you embrace it, you may find it spurring you on toward love and good deeds (Hebrews 10:24) and keeping you clear of the sins that have taken down so many in ministry before you. “You should thankfully consider how great a mercy this is, that you have so many eyes to watch over you.” Let the Holy Spirit use your public life, and every eye watching it, to shape and form you. The fishbowl and the formation of a life in ministry are coming either way. Let them help answer the question: into what? To further explore your own formation through ministry, join us at the Multiply Summit with special guest Rich Villodas this coming February in the Washington, D.C. area! Adapted from Eldership and the Mission of God by Bob Hyatt and J.R. Briggs. [1] Richard Baxter, The Reformed Pastor, London, 1657, p. 21. [2] Kairos is one of the Greek words for time, but it's different from chronos. Chronos is linear, calendar time. Kairos refers to significant moments full of possibility. Here, it means those times when God steps into chronos.
By Bob Hyatt • April 13, 2026
Here's a message from Ecclesia Pastor Aaron Graham