By Jennifer Colosimo
About five years ago, Reverend Michael Mills was called to be the pastor of Agape Baptist Church in Fort Worth, Texas. He was a young pastor with enviable energy and an excitement for missions that aligned with this church’s identity. Unfortunately, within that identity, membership was diminishing. Families had started to leave and Agape hoped that a new pastor could revive their spirit and help them thrive as they did in previous years.
“When the church called me to be their pastor, they felt they had hit rock bottom and there was nowhere to go but up,” Mills said. “Calling a younger pastor felt like a bright spot of hope, of seeing things change and becoming different. It also felt like a harkening back to the way things used to be which, at that point in time, wasn’t that long ago for them.”
For better or worse, that didn’t happen.
“Unfortunately, we were diminishing numerically, financially and in energy,” he said. “We began to see a new reality and realized that if we were going to do anything about it, we would have to come to terms with it first.”
Mills began creating a space for the congregation to recognize that new reality together, to see what was happening and to challenge them to start thinking about what would happen next.
“I told the church it was time to make a decision about their path,” he said. “If they believed that God was calling them down a path of revitalization, then it was apparent that I wasn’t the pastor to do that. If the church wanted to continue as is, I also wasn’t the right pastor for them. But if we discerned that God was leading us to an ending, then I wanted to do my best to walk that road with them and, if possible, to walk it to the end.”
Mills believes that in walking the road that leads to death, God can bring new life. By committing to stay on the road with them, he modeled that belief. What followed that decision has been the hardest year of work Mills has ever done—both professionally and emotionally. But the fruits of what could come next has made it worth it.
“As a local church, it’s our belief that we don’t exist for ourselves,” Mills explained. “It’s not about us and what we want. It’s about being a part of something much bigger and much better than that. My hope was that in talking about how we could focus on our legacy instead of our sacrifice, we could lift our gaze off of ourselves and our difficult situation to see that there’s a bigger, better conversation to be had.”
That clicked for the people of Agape. They could swallow a somber pill knowing that something could exist beyond the work they’d done. In closing its doors as Agape Baptist Church, they opened many others. When they turn over their property to the local Baptist association, some international congregations will find a new home within those walls—including the Karen refugee church started by Agape several years ago. The new vacancy will also create the opportunity for incubation space where new churches can meet, grow and figure out their identity before launching on their own. Many churches—new and old—are already in conversation about meeting there and sharing that space. As icing on the cake for this mission-hearted congregation, several of the ministries Agape created will be continued through these new congregations.
“When we claim to follow Jesus, we take up our cross and follow Him,” Mills said. “It’s not about us, but about being a part of something bigger than us. He is the one who knows the way out of the grave; so in death, there is always hope. In this instance, which feels like a death, we have hope that we can plant seeds, some of which we can already see sprouting. We trust in the power of God’s ongoing work that new life will come out of this. That’s what we want to be about.”
Certainly, there’s a somberness to the conclusion of a sweet fellowship, but after Easter Sunday this year, those members will disperse into different congregations throughout Fort Worth. They will be like seeds, ready to be part of bringing new life wherever they land.
“We are sacrificing something that we all love, but it’s not without purpose; and I think that makes all the difference,” Mills said. “We have a sense of hopefulness and a sense of relief to know that our work has not been in vain, that God will be able to use it in new and exciting ways that we would never have been able to do. We have left a legacy.”
Mills didn’t arrive on Agape’s doorstep to close their church; but he did arrive ready to be their pastor. Despite the difficult road that he traveled, he hopes his church’s journey shows that resurrection is real. “Our leg of the race is finished, but we believe in the power of what’s on the other side—hope. We’re a part of something bigger, better in God’s kingdom come.” Mills doesn’t know where he’ll be after Easter Sunday, but he will spend some time catching his breath and then trust in God’s timing for what comes next. If these last few years have taught him anything, it’s that no matter what the road looks like, God is faithful.