There is something an old evangelist once said that has stayed with me for years.
He said, “The pastor’s job is really the job of a bus driver.”
That’s it.
The driver doesn’t decide who gets on the bus. He doesn’t decide who stays for the whole ride. He doesn’t decide who gets off. His job is simply to keep driving.
That’s the calling of a pastor.
I don’t own the church. Jesus does.
I don’t choose who walks through the doors. I don’t choose who leaves. I simply try, by the grace of God, to keep pointing people to Jesus and keep the bus headed toward home.
But if I’m honest…
There are people who left years ago, and I still think about them.
I remember their faces. Their laughter. Their tears. The prayers we prayed together. The victories we celebrated. The burdens we carried. Then one day… they were gone.
I don’t say their names because this isn’t about guilt. It’s about love.
I simply wonder…
Are they happy?
Have they found a church family that truly loves them?
Have they found a place where their gifts are being used for the Kingdom of God?
Most of all…
Have they tasted and seen that the Lord is still good?
I pray for them.
Not because I want to fill pews.
Because I love people.
If they’ve found a church where they are growing in Christ, serving with joy, and flourishing, then my heart rejoices. Praise God! That’s exactly what I want for them.
But if they’re wandering…
If they’re hurting…
If they still haven’t found where they belong…
Then I quietly ask the Good Shepherd to bring them home—whether that’s here at the Lord’s Table or wherever He knows they will grow best.
Then I pray for the people who are here today.
Lord, let every person who walks through these doors discover the place You created just for them. Let them find their calling. Let them uncover the gifts You’ve placed inside them. Let them become part of something eternal. Let them know they are loved.
And then my heart reaches even farther.
It reaches for the people we’ve never met.
The husband who’s about to give up.
The wife crying herself to sleep.
The teenager wondering if anyone notices.
The widow eating another meal alone.
The family searching for hope.
The man convinced God could never forgive him.
The woman carrying burdens no one else can see.
Lord…
Bring them to Your table.
Let them taste and see that You are good.
Not because our church is perfect.
Not because our pastor has all the answers.
But because Jesus Christ is still saving, still healing, still restoring, still forgiving, and still preparing a place at His table for everyone who will come.
My prayer has never been that this church would simply become bigger.
My prayer is that heaven would become fuller.
May every person who walks through these doors seek first His Kingdom and His righteousness. And may they discover that everything they truly need is found in Christ.
There will always be a place at the Lord’s Table.
And if you’re looking for home…
We saved you a seat.