30/05/2026
BEGGING A MEMBER NOT TO LEAVE YOUR CHURCH!!
One of the most trying seasons in a pastor’s ministry is leading a small congregation. At that level, church is deeply personal. You know every member by name, their children, where they live, where they work, and even the burdens they silently carry. Any absence is immediately noticed. Every empty seat speaks loudly.
Financially, such ministries survive by faith. Offerings are humble, often unable to meet even the most basic needs of the church. Yet in those fragile beginnings, a pastor learns to trust God in ways that cannot be taught in Bible school.
At that particular time, our congregation had barely fifteen members. On a good Sunday, the offering could hardly exceed one thousand shillings. Most of the members were either low-income earners or unemployed. Still, I prayed for them faithfully, believing God would visit us.
Then one day, a miracle happened.
One of our members received an appointment letter for a government job. To us, it was not just employment; it was a testimony wrapped in divine favor. The whole church celebrated with tears and joy. We felt like heaven itself had remembered our little ministry.
From that moment, the brother became one of the strongest pillars in the church. He supported projects, stood with us during difficult moments, and even volunteered to pay the church rent together with his family. To a struggling pastor, that kind of support feels like Aaron and Hur holding up Moses’ hands.
Then came the Sunday that shook me.
It was month-end, and the church rent had not yet been paid. Naturally, I expected him and his family to show up as usual. But service time approached and there was no sign of them.
I called him before the service. No response.
I sent a text message. No reply.
I went to WhatsApp and noticed something strange — my messages had been blue-ticked, yet there was complete silence. That was unlike him. Immediately, something sank heavily inside my spirit. It felt as though someone had punctured my heart with a needle.
Ironically, I had prepared a sermon titled: “Trusting in the Lord Even When There Is No Sign of a Miracle.”
To be honest, that sermon preached more to me than it did to the congregation.
After the service, I dismissed everyone quickly because my mind was no longer in church. I needed answers. As soon as I turned on my mobile data, I noticed something even more alarming:
The brother and his entire family had exited every church WhatsApp group.
Panic gripped me instantly.
My wife looked at me carefully and asked, “Is everything alright? Have you spoken to him to know where they are?”
That question pierced me deeply because I had no answer.
“I don’t know,” I replied quietly. “They’ve left all the church WhatsApp groups.”
For a moment, my wife stood frozen in silence. Then she said firmly, “Let’s go and visit them now.”
I agreed immediately.
When we arrived at their home, their firstborn son opened the gate for us and led us inside. As we removed our shoes, I overheard him informing his father:
“Dad, uko na wageni.”
“Who are they?” the father asked.
“It’s Robert and his wife.”
My heart reacted instantly.
I looked at my wife. She looked back at me. We both heard it clearly.
The same child who lovingly called me “Papa or Prophet” was now referring to us by our names. That alone told us something had changed.
The husband came out to greet us, but the wife remained in the bedroom, allegedly “folding clothes.” She never came out to receive us.
Still, I had not gone there to defend my dignity.
I had gone there to beg.
At that stage of ministry, we needed them more than they needed us — and I knew it.
With all sincerity, I explained how important they were to us, how much they had blessed the ministry, and how I believed God Himself had connected our lives together. My voice nearly broke as I spoke.
But his response was cold and final.
“Pastor, as a family, we have decided to leave your church and go elsewhere. Your members are non-givers and lack commitment. We feel drained. There is nothing we are getting in return. We cannot come back. Sorry.”
Those words landed like a spear in my chest.
Trying to salvage the situation, I gently suggested, “You can take a break from participating in activities if you feel tired… but please don’t leave the church.”
But his mind was already made up.
We left their house heartbroken and silent.
As my wife and I walked away, countless questions flooded my mind.
What would happen to the church rent now?
How would the church survive after losing an entire family?
How would the empty seats look on Sunday?
Would this small ministry even continue?
It was during that painful season that I remembered reading somewhere: “A broke man has no voice.”
At that moment, I felt it deeply.
I also remembered another preacher once telling me, “Anointing without money is annoyance.”
He had said it jokingly after I shared my financial struggles with him, but in that season, the statement felt painfully real.
Yet even in the midst of discouragement, my wife and I encouraged one another in the Lord. We held onto God with everything we had left.
And today, many years later, I can testify:
The church has never closed, though we've not won but we still receive the grace to serve God faithfully and wait on him
Because the church does not belong to us — it belongs to God.
Men may leave. Support may disappear. Pillars may walk away.
But Christ remains faithful to His Church.
I have learned that when something truly belongs to God, He alone sustains it, defends it, and fights for it.
