Somewhere a pastor is doing all the right things. He is preaching and teaching. He is visiting and reaching out to the people in his community. He is dreaming and communicating those dreams. He is working harder than he ever imagined and justifying it as the price to fulfill the call God has placed on his life, yet he feels haunted by monthly budgets and balance sheets that seem to have more influence over his decisions than prayer.

Somewhere a pastor is in a meeting deciding which staff members he’ll have to let go. Most of the revenue that supported the overwhelming budget of this once thriving ministry came from investment income. There was a large sum of money that the church had collected and invested through the years—so large that there was little need to regularly ask for money to cover operational expenses. But now the market is down and his business administrator tells him he’ll have to cut one-third of budgeted expenses; that means people and positions.

Somewhere a pastor is leading a community of aging people faced with a shrinking prospect base as the children of these members are leaving for a different place to live and work. As active members of this faith community leave this world for the next, there is no one to replace the funds provided through their generous giving. The church has always been able to pay the bills and survive. But now three people are losing the battle with cancer, and these three represent half of the largest, most faithful givers to the church.

Somewhere a pastor just learned that an abortion clinic is scheduled to be built this summer just a few miles from the church. This pastor wakes up one Saturday morning with a vision for a pregnancy counseling center in the vacant building just opposite of the chosen abortion clinic site. He quickly calls an informal finance committee meeting to share his ideas. Unfortunately, the chairman doesn’t think the church has the money to even consider the program and strongly cautions the pastor that moving in this direction could jeopardize the church’s ability to pay his salary.

Somewhere a pastor wakes up knowing this will be the last time he makes the drive to the office as he knows it. This will be the last day he will turn the key to his church building, preach from his pulpit, offer an invitation at the end of his message, and baptize in this baptistery. Today his church will be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Every time he drives by this building, the echo of his hopes and dreams will rush to the center of his mind and a sense of loss will surely follow. His lip will quiver and his voice will shake for months, perhaps years, as he tries to articulate how things completely fell apart.

Each of these real-life scenarios leaves the pastor feeling overwhelmed and underprepared. My guess is that while you may not have been through a situation as dramatic as those described above, there has been a time in your ministry, perhaps multiple times, when you felt inspired by God but were restricted by the resources available to you and your church to accomplish those dreams.

It’s not your fault. You probably didn’t cover this in seminary. In fact, my guess is that you graduated with the hopes that your ability to parse the Greek and Hebrew languages and craft meaningful sermons would ensure that you would be able to avoid most conversations related to money and giving and financial solvency. But you soon realized—just weeks into your first pastorate—that you were being measured not by your theological prowess but by the dollars in the plate and the people in the pews.

Every pastor has had that epiphany when he realizes that what he felt called to do came with a hidden responsibility he didn’t expect. There is perhaps no greater calling than to lead a local church. The church is the primary unit God has designed and empowered to carry forward the earthly ministry of Christ until his ultimate return. There is no plan B. God didn’t leave us with a backup plan. Therefore, complete failure is not an option.

Yet this hidden responsibility scares most people who are drawn to positions of ministry leadership because it involves money, a subject that has been the bane of so many in such a public profession. Nowhere in anyone’s call to ministry is there any mention of the ministry of money, yet that seems to be the very thing that drives every decision. It’s always lurking in the corner of the minds of those involved in both the strategic ministry planning process and the execution of that plan: will there be enough money to really do this?

If you have ever felt like no one bothered to show you the fine print before you signed the contract and agreed to lead a local church, then these words and sentences and pages are for you. If you have ever questioned why biblical expository preaching, faithful home and hospital visits, and consistent outreach programs aren’t enough to generate the funds necessary to accomplish the ministry God has placed on your heart, then these words and sentences and pages are for you. If you have ever felt frustrated in affecting change and fully funding the ministry budgets you propose, then these words and sentences and pages are for you.

This book is not the end all or be all. Rather, it begins a vital conversation that speaks to the heart of the local church’s ability to bring into reality the ministry God has called them to do. This book is not about how to afford fancy suits, shiny new shoes, brand-new cars, or expensive houses. That’s another book, and there are plenty of them. This book was written because I couldn’t find the book I needed whil