Considering the Victim While Telling Your Story

Lately, as I’ve been writing blogs and recording podcasts about my past failures, one thought has weighed heavily on my mind: How do I acknowledge the victims of my mistakes while telling my story?

I never want to speak about my past in a way that overlooks those who were hurt. The reality is, my decisions caused deep wounds—especially for those closest to me.

The Weight of My Failures

The people most affected by my choices were my kids and my ex-wife. They were the main victims of my mistakes, and I will forever regret the pain I caused them. Now, my goal is to live a life that honors them—to be a better father, a better example, and someone who takes responsibility for the damage I’ve done.

But they weren’t the only ones.

There were church members who trusted me, people I had invested in who watched me fall from grace. I can’t imagine the disappointment and hurt that must have caused. For some, my failure may have broken their trust in pastoral leadership entirely. That’s a weight I have to carry.

So, where do you go from here? What does recovery and redemption look like after something like this?

Redemption: Wallowing or Walking?

People have different views on what happens after moral failure. Some believe you should live in the ashes of your mistakes forever, never moving forward. Others think redemption means fully reclaiming the life you once had, as if nothing ever happened.

I believe the truth is somewhere in the middle.

I don’t think we are meant to wallow in our failures forever. But we should walk with a limp.

Our failures don’t define our redemption, but they should shape our future. They should make us different—more merciful, more empathetic, more aware of the pain failure causes. Our hearts should break more because we now know the hurt on both sides.

A Word of Caution About Ministry

If you’ve experienced a moral failure, I would caution against rushing back into vocational ministry.

Pause. Reflect. Ask yourself, Why do I even want to do this?

Everyone loves a redemption story, but your story doesn’t require a return to the pulpit to be a testimony of grace. Serving God doesn’t always mean being on a stage.

God may be calling you to something different. Maybe your purpose isn’t leading a church but serving in a soup kitchen. Maybe it’s in the quiet work of prayer and visiting the homebound. Maybe Jesus is turning your world upside down to show you a place you never considered before.

Redefining Success

Success isn’t measured by the size of your church, your title, or your influence. Honestly, it never should have been.

True success is found in discovering the purpose God has for you now. It’s about loving Him and loving those around you—wherever He places you.

If you’ve fallen, know this: Redemption is real. Grace is real. But it doesn’t always lead you back to where you were. Sometimes, it leads you somewhere even better.