I Lament!

In 2022, I was so excited to start my journey as a pastor in the Christian Reformed Church in North America (CRC). To be fair, I didn’t wake up one morning dreaming about the CRC; I came because a friend, a CRC pastor, invited me, and the church calling me happened to be a CRC congregation. Still, I decided if I was going to be here, I would be here, mind, body, and soul. I would embrace this denomination as my own, and they would embrace me as theirs. During the interview process, I did what few would do: I watched the entire CRC Synod of 2022, every hour, every minute, every second. Even in what many described as a tense and groundbreaking meeting, I saw something special in this group. I wanted in. I still watch every minute of Synod each year (because, yes, your boy loves church polity). I saw the CRC as a beautiful, albeit dysfunctional, family. And when I say “dysfunctional,” I don’t mean it as an insult, every denomination is a dysfunctional family. We’re sinners, and we bring our dysfunction into the body of Christ, myself included.

After joining my parish and becoming deeply woven into its life, I began the journey toward CRC ordination. My path was a bit different since I had been ordained through the International Ministerial Fellowship (IMF) in 2018, but the CRC graciously honored that and placed me into the transfer process. By October 2023, I was ordained as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament in the CRC, officially installed in January 2024. I dove in, ready to love and serve this family. But what I didn’t expect was how quickly the warmth I experienced during ordination would grow cold in other parts of the denomination. People warned me. I gave them the benefit of the doubt, believing the best until proven otherwise. And guess what? Even when I saw the exclusivity and pretension many had warned me about, I was still in love with this denomination. Because despite the dysfunction, I met incredible people. I made friends, mentors, coaches, teachers, and companions. I found family.

One of the most beautiful parts of the CRC is its regional bodies, called Classis, a word with naval origins, used to describe a fleet of ships moving together on mission. Originally, classis was about movement, connection, and mission. Picture a scattered network of churches separated by long distances and water, moving together to share the gospel, support one another, and keep communication open in a world without highways or emails. That was the heart of classis, and when I stepped into my local Classis Pacific Northwest, I felt it deeply. For a young pastor, this was gold. This was my dysfunctional family, and I loved them.

But as with many things, life brought a challenging season for Grace and me, a season that exposed cracks I hadn’t seen before. Patterns of exclusion and image-protection over relational care began to show, and what I experienced was, at times, horrendous. As I zoomed out, I realized it wasn’t just a local issue. It wasn’t even just a regional issue. It was a pattern embedded at the national level. Being young, ambitious, and way too arrogant, I thought, “You know what? I can help fix this.” Friends, there was a higher chance of 2+2 equaling fish than of me fixing the deeply ingrained church culture of a CRC church. I was too young, too inexperienced, and too arrogant to believe I could bring meaningful change, especially among people who saw themselves as 99% correct at all times.

I would be remiss not to point out that I am young, Black, and an immigrant. Research suggests it was highly unlikely that my feedback would be taken seriously, even if delivered in a humble, non-arrogant manner.

A study in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology highlights how implicit bias shapes the way White individuals receive feedback from Black peers. Similarly, Dr. Sheen Levine’s 2021 study at UT Dallas found that “white decision-makers are more likely to disregard information emanating from Black peers, even if objectively essential.” By failing to recognize perspectives outside their own, White leaders miss opportunities to learn and undermine their own performance. And even when White leaders acknowledge that racial biases exist, they often react defensively when confronted with evidence of their own biases, making meaningful behavior change difficult. In hindsight, it was a recipe for disappointment.

So what does this have to do with Synod 2025? It opened my eyes to the reality of the denomination I loved. Despite my commitment, the CRC did not want me, not in the way I hoped. Here’s a detail I haven’t shared in this blog yet: I pursued ordination in the Reformed Church in America (RCA). The RCA accepted me because the CRC had already affirmed my call and character. Given the close RCA-CRC relationship, I researched whether I could hold dual ordination in both. I didn’t want to leave the CRC, but the RCA’s ecumenical partnerships offered a future for my family and me. Nothing in either denomination’s polity prohibited this, and the CRC has had dually ordained ministers for years without challenge. I pursued the conversation in good faith. Every answer I received indicated this was okay, although some noted it might not be wise. Well, until I got an answer from “the CRC.” Not from my Classis. Not from Synod. Just two or three White men with hurt feelings because they weren’t included in my RCA process. One told me it was because ordination is a high calling (which I agree with, and so does the RCA), but another CRC pastor familiar with the situation believed it was about control, about wanting a say in where the Lord was leading me. Remember, this wasn’t my Classis. The control was out of their hands, and that pissed them off. Their response? “Choose us only, or leave.” Of course, those who pushed me out will say that wasn’t their intention. But the effect remains.

This is why Synod left me lamenting: watching a denomination hemorrhage because of its own doing. The narrative is that pastors and churches are leaving the CRC over its position on human sexuality, but the reality is more complex. Many churches agree with the CRC’s position but are leaving due to the institution’s orthopraxy and culture. This year’s Synod shared that only 19 pastors were coming in while 94 are leaving through the released from ministry process. Many in the CRC hope this is just a blip, something circumstantial. But I believe the exodus is tied to a prideful institutional culture resistant to humility, transparency, relational grace, and corporate repentance.

This culture has seeped into some local churches, leaving pastors feeling “not at home” in their own denomination. I see the CRC becoming more secluded, moving back toward its old motto: “In our isolation is our strength.” This year’s Synod even questioned its relational ties with the RCA, signaling a desire to pull further inward. And so, next year at Synod 2026, I will be counted among the pastors leaving the CRC, not because I want to, but because I must.

I LAMENT!

I lament the culture of exclusion, the prioritization of institutional image over the care of pastors, and the pride that resists change even as pastors and churches quietly slip away.

I lament for the CRC, because it is still my dysfunctional family, and I love it. I lament because I see what it could be, a denomination where young, Black pastors are welcomed with genuine embrace, where hard conversations can happen without fear of retribution, where classis is not just a place of reports and committees but a living, relational network moving together for mission.

I lament because I see what is being lost, and I mourn the relationships I will leave behind.

But I also leave with gratitude for the friends and mentors I’ve found, for the ways God has used the CRC to shape me, and for the good work I was able to do while I was here. I leave not in bitterness but in lament, holding grief and gratitude in the same hand. And I leave praying that the CRC will one day embrace the radical humility needed to truly embody the gospel we proclaim, before more pastors, leaders, and churches slip away in silence and the CRC is no more.