When Your Gifts Are Silenced
In Part 1, I shared how a place that once felt like home—especially in youth ministry—can slowly become unfamiliar. How subtle shifts, unspoken decisions, and relational distance can leave you feeling like an outsider in a space where you used to feel called, needed, and known.
But there’s another layer to this ache. It’s not just the loss of belonging. It’s the quiet removal of calling.
Nothing says you’re not welcome here quite like being blocked from serving in the very areas God has clearly equipped and called you into. And I don’t mean being rotated off a team or given a new focus—I mean being shut out. With no conversation. No clarification. Just silence.
It’s like being invited to dinner, only to find your seat has been removed.
And yet the lights are still on. People still say hello. It all looks the same on the outside. But the inside feels hollow.
We Didn’t Build It—But We’ve Been Here
We’re not claiming responsibility for success of what we have right now. We didn’t draw up the blueprints or lead from the front.
But we’ve been part of it—present, steady, faithful—for over a decade.
We’ve led small groups, prayed with students, showed up on retreats, had hard conversations, and been in the trenches of teenage life and faith. Not perfect. Not always polished. But consistent.
And now, to be told—without being told—that your service is no longer wanted… it feels like exile from a home you helped maintain.
There Are Still People Walking With Us
And this is where grace shows up.
There are other youth volunteers—people we’ve served with for years—who haven’t left us behind. They’ve stood beside us.
They’ve asked questions. They’ve challenged us to keep showing up.
They’ve reminded us that we’re not crazy, not disqualified, and not forgotten by God.
These friends have become a spiritual lifeline. They don’t hold official power—but they hold weight. Their loyalty and love mean more than I can express.
They’re living proof that the Church is not a hierarchy—it’s a body. And some parts of the body are still working just fine.
But when those in power choose silence—when the people with authority to pursue healing do nothing—that contrast becomes painful.
The support of friends keeps us from drowning.
But the silence of leaders makes us feel like we were never meant to stay afloat.
Jesus Endured This Too
Jesus understood what it meant to be rejected by those in charge.
“He came to that which was His own, but His own did not receive Him.” – John 1:11
He was shut out of places He once taught in. Misrepresented by the very people entrusted with shepherding God’s people.
“Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” – Hebrews 12:3
Jesus didn’t just endure rejection—He transformed it. He didn’t become bitter. But He did speak truth. He wept. He loved. He continued His mission, even when the trusted voices around Him fell silent.
Still Here. Still Hurting. Still Hoping.
We haven’t left.
We’ve considered it. But we haven’t.
Not because it’s easy. Not because we’re naïve. But because we believe God still works in the wilderness. And maybe, somehow, He’s still working in us through this.
But this season is hard.
It’s hard to be told—without words—that your gifts are no longer welcome.
It’s hard to be seen as a problem instead of a person.
It’s hard to stay soft when silence hardens the air around you.
And it’s especially hard when the people with the power to change things choose not to.
To Anyone Else Who Knows This Feeling
If you’re walking through something similar—if you’ve been set aside, quietly dismissed, or left without explanation—I want to say this clearly:
You are not alone.
Your gifts are not invalidated.
And your obedience is not unseen.
“God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him as you have helped His people and continue to help them.” – Hebrews 6:10
Lean into the people who still see you.
Hold fast to the One who still calls you.
And don’t let someone else’s silence define your story.
Because He hasn’t.
