Dear Evangelical Me

A Letter to my former self...and to the church I once called home

The THINQ Young Pastors Summit at Watermark Community Church, June 2025 - the gathering that sparked this letter to my former self. Photo by Cory Ohale (coryohale.com)

A couple weeks ago, I found myself at an evangelical megachurch for a conference in Dallas. I hadn’t been in a space like that in years. It used to feel like home, but this time…it didn’t.

The Room That Brought It All Back

I was attending the Young Pastors Summit…an event packed with passionate, Jesus-loving leaders. It was hosted by THINQ, and nearly every person in the room came from the evangelical world except me and my co-worker.

Truth be told, everyone was kind. Everyone was respectful. But I couldn’t shake the feeling: I don’t belong here anymore.

The lingo. The urgency. The emotional intensity. It all came rushing back…along with a flood of emotions I wasn’t expecting. Gratitude, respect, nostalgia... and grief. I had to leave the building for a few hours just to breathe because something inside me cracked open.

The Letter I Had to Write

Being in that space again stirred something deep. While processing some of these emotions, my co-worker gave me the idea of writing a letter to my former self. (I very rarely come up with good ideas on my own)

I realized I needed to say something to the person I used to be…the evangelical version of me who lived, breathed, and bled ministry.

So, I wrote this letter. Not as an act of closure…but as a bridge.

Because even now, I believe we still need each other.

Dear Evangelical Me,

You loved Jesus with everything you had. I remember that. You stayed up late praying for your friends. You read Scripture like your life depended on it. You fasted. You raised your hands in worship even when it felt weird. You believed God could change the world…and you wanted in.

There’s so much about you I admire:

• Your hunger for transformation

• Your courage to speak up

• Your raw, honest worship

• Your commitment to Scripture

You taught me that faith isn't inherited. It’s lived. And I’ll never stop being grateful for that.

But there’s another side to your story, isn’t there?

You were scared a lot of the time. Scared of doubting. Scared of being wrong. Scared of not measuring up. You were taught that certainty was the same thing as faith. That nuance was compromise. That asking questions meant you were slipping.

You learned to perform strength. But inside, you were cracking under the weight of trying to always be “right.”

You believed that if your church didn’t look like a megachurch or your sermons didn’t get a huge response, you were failing. You thought if you ever said the words, I don’t know, your ministry wouldn’t survive.

I just want to say: I see you. I honor your passion. And I grieve the pressure you carried.

I may not live in your world anymore. But I carry pieces of you with me.

What I Took With Me from Evangelicalism:

• A passion for Jesus

• A belief that lives can change

• A hunger for Scripture

• A boldness to invite

What I’ve Found in the Mainline Tradition:

• Room for mystery

• Grace without performance

• Theology that includes the excluded

• Courage to say “I don’t know”

I’ve found a new home in the mainline church. It’s slower here. A little messier, and a little less certain. But for me…it’s more honest. More grounded. More spacious.

I’ve discovered freedom:

• Freedom to question

• Freedom to doubt

• Freedom to sit with mystery

• Freedom to include people the church has historically excluded

• Freedom to preach good news without pretending to have all the answers

But I haven’t forgotten where I came from. And I haven’t forgotten you.

Why We Still Need Each Other

I still believe we’re on the same team.

The evangelical church needs the mainline church’s commitment to justice, honoring questions, and leading with grace. The mainline church needs the evangelical church’s boldness, mission, and trust in the Spirit to transform lives.

We can disagree on some things…that’s fine. But let’s stop building walls where there could be bridges. Let’s stop talking about each other and start talking to each other. Let’s listen longer than we speak. Let’s trade suspicion for curiosity.

The world needs what we both have to offer.

But it needs us to offer it together.

With gratitude, grief, and hope,

- You (and me)

P.S. Every Friday, I share raw and unscripted video reflections with paid subscribers. If you ever want a deeper look into my writing process, my faith, or the stuff I’m still wrestling with…consider upgrading your subscription.

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