Should you scrap your strategy?

I’ve dedicated most of my life to serving as a local church pastor. One of the greatest joys I get to experience is working alongside faithful pastors and having honest, heartfelt conversations with leaders in my local context—hearing their passion for Jesus and their genuine desire to see their congregation flourish.

But too often, when we begin to talk about church health, the conversation starts in the wrong place.

“What’s your vision?”
“What’s your leadership structure?”
“What’s your discipleship pathway?”

Those are fine questions. But they’re dangerous as starting points.

For the last half-century, much of the evangelical church has imported its models wholesale from the business sector. We’ve bought into a kind of ecclesial entrepreneurship where success looks like growth metrics, guest retention rates, and marketing strategies. There was even a time in American evangelicalism when a plug-and-play church growth formula promised to “grow your church in 3–6 months.”

Sounds appealing, doesn’t it?

I’ll confess: in my early years of ministry, I was enraptured by some of those models. They were rooted in attracting people to your building so they could hear about Jesus. That end is noble. But we lose something critical when strategy becomes our fundamental priority.

A phrase attributed to Pastor Jason Meyer haunts strategy-driven ministry: “What you win them with, you win them to.”

Charles Spurgeon put it bluntly, “If you have to give a carnival to get people to come to church, then you will have to keep giving carnivals to keep them coming back.”

The methods we use to draw people influence what people are built on.

Strategy is good. Necessary, even. But pastors often trade intimacy with Christ for innovation and traction.

Right now, the church is undergoing a painful reckoning. Leaders who built platforms with viral videos, emotional appeals, and personality-driven teaching are being exposed when the underlying theology—or lack of spiritual depth—fails to bear the weight of public scrutiny. For example, recent online controversies involving Mike Winger’s video series critiquing Shawn Bolz and Todd White have revealed deep disagreements over biblical authority and supernatural theology. And the public fallout around influencers like Neeza Powers has shown how unexamined personalities and platforms fracture trust and damage the witness of the gospel. These aren’t just scandals; they’re symptoms of a church that traded Christ-like character for cultural relevance.

This is what happens when we prioritize fame, influence, and attention instead of intimacy with Jesus.

In the prologue of his gospel, the apostle John writes:

“In the beginning was the Word.” (John 1:1)

Not programs.
Not structures.
Not mission statements.

A Person.

Not just any person—but the eternal Word who was with God and was God.

John intentionally echoes Genesis 1. But where Genesis begins with God creating, John pulls the curtain back further—before creation, before history, before institutions, denominations, or movements—the Word already was.

This truth matters deeply for church health. Every church is centered on something ultimate. The question is not whether a church has a center—but what occupies it.

John’s claim is uncompromising: Jesus Christ is not a means to an end. He is the beginning.

When John says, “the Word was with God,” he emphasizes relationship.
When he says, “the Word was God,” he emphasizes identity.

Jesus is not a lesser being. Not a divine assistant. Not a created mediator. He is fully God.

And here’s where many churches drift without realizing it.

They affirm this doctrinally…but functionally? Jesus becomes a supporting character rather than the central authority. Strategy leads. Vision casts. Metrics decide. Jesus gets consulted—if we remember.

But healthy churches reverse that order.

Jesus said, “I will build my church.” (Matthew 16:18)
He didn’t say, “I’ll help you build yours.”

When Christology weakens, everything else eventually distorts. Worship becomes thin. Discipleship becomes behavioral. Leadership becomes pragmatic. Mission becomes brand management.

You cannot build a healthy church on a weak, distant, or functional Christology.

Church health does not begin with asking, “What should we do?” It begins with asking, “Who is Jesus, really?”

Because a church will never rise above its theology of Christ, it will only reveal it.

Here’s the challenge:

If the center of your life—and your church—is not Jesus in all His fullness, then you are building on sand. You may attract crowds for a season, but when trials come, what will hold you up? If your identity is wrapped in strategy, your security in metrics, and your influence in never-ending innovation, then on the day of testing, you will discover that you’ve built a kingdom of self, not the Kingdom of Christ.

So ask yourself:
Are we cultivating intimacy with Christ in our personal lives?
Are we building churches that worship before they strategize?
Are we willing to sacrifice comfort, popularity, and attention to be shaped by the Word made flesh?

If the answer is yes—then your church’s health isn’t measured by attendance numbers or campaign success—it’s seen in the faithful obedience of disciples who follow a risen Savior with whole hearts.

Grace & Peace,
Mike