Following my announcement earlier this week that I’m resigning as pastor of Project Church at the end of 2011, the most frequently asked question is this: What’s next?

This was a decision I couldn’t make for my community, Project Church. It’s one the other leaders (my dear friends) needed to pray and search their hearts to answer because they would be the ones to carry the ball. They’ve met, prayed, met, and prayed some more. And I’m happy to announce the Project Church story will continue. Not only that, but something beautiful is blooming in the midst of the whirlwind my news has created.

From the beginning, we wanted a community where strangers could become friends and friends could become family. And that’s what happened. This family recognizes this church is much bigger than one person. As it should be. It’s about Jesus and his mission in the world.

As I observe folks rallying together, stepping up to fill voids, and loving one another, I see this original hope becoming an active reality. While I may have been the leader God used to start this, the thought never occurred to me that I might be in the way of what God wants to do. Yet, what I’m witnessing has me excited about what’s next. Even though I will no longer serve as a pastor at year’s end, I will always consider Project Church my family.

Personally, this decision has been extremely difficult. It’s a terrible feeling knowing you’ve disappointed a lot of people.  However, as the week has gone on, the amount of support and understanding has helped. It’s comforting to know my church loves me and I love them. I’m so thankful for that.

I pray God’s not done with me yet and am open to wherever He leads. In fact, I’m getting more used to the idea of new frontiers and more quality time with my wife and kids.  The next thing on my list is to begin planning for a real family vacation that lasts more than a weekend. It will be a first for us…and it’s about time.

Thanks for your prayers, encouragement, and support.

The best is yet to come.

To our friends near and far,

Every story is a journey. We begin one place and end up another. And while we strive for a destination, it turns out it was the journey to get there that shaped and transformed us. Along the way, you meet amazing characters, encounter unexpected struggles, gain greater knowledge, experience remarkable moments, and discover things about yourself you didn’t know existed. And, you change.

For the past four years, we’ve lived such a story as we started a church from scratch. It was a dream that began with the drive for people to know Jesus, experience grace, live free, and become difference makers. We called this dream Project Church. And it’s been an off-road adventure to say the least…and we’ve loved it.

However, it’s with heavy hearts that we announce that our part in the Project Church story will conclude at the end of this year. Starting next year, I will no longer serve as pastor.

There’s no scandal, controversy, politics, or bitterness. It’s simply time.

We’ve traveled as far as we could on this church planting journey. For months, we’ve agonized and prayed over this terribly difficult decision. And frankly, it sucks.

Why now?

The bottom line is this: it’s a miracle we made it this far. From the beginning, our church has operated on a thrift store budget in a world of department store expectations. We have, by God’s grace, always been able to make ends meet and still make an impact, but have never been in a position to pay a salary to anyone. Including me.

Rather than raise salary support, I opted to work full-time while starting the church so that I could provide for my family and have the resources to start Project Church. This clocked me in at an insane amount of working hours. From time to time, I would reassure my family, “It won’t be like this forever.” They would smile and give me the supportive-family nod. Deep down, I knew things had to change or it would all catch up with me.

Sure enough, leaks began to emerge in my proverbial boat. I tried to stick some gum in the cracks to seal up the leaks—I handed off as much as I could to other leaders, attempted to establish elders, scaled back and made our church as lean as possible, and worked more from home—but the pressure kept pushing on through.

In May of this year, I took a couple of weeks off, and that’s when I first sensed that God was releasing me to a new season. But I’m a fighter. And instead of listening to God’s nudge, I held on tighter, tried harder, and hoped God would change his mind. But he kept whispering, “It’s time…It’s going to be okay…I’m in control.”  I even attended the Catalyst conference earlier this month, begging God for a different direction. But the collective shout of the theme “Be Present” only reinforced what God was already whispering.

I finally listened.

The most heartbreaking part isn’t about what happens to me and my family, we’ll be fine. It’s knowing the impact our decision will have on others. We certainly don’t want to disappoint anyone, but we know this news will. And for this, we are truly sorry. Just know we didn’t make this decision lightly.

My battle cry is to finish strong. I will continue to teach at our Sunday gatherings for the rest of the year. In the meantime, other leaders will seek God as to what should happen with Project Church following our departure. I have expressed my feelings, but at their request, I will leave the decision in their hands. Regardless, my hope is that all who have been a part of this story will always love God, love people, and live free.

As for what’s next for me? God only knows. I do know my calling hasn’t changed. I will spend my life living and telling better stories and helping others do the same.

As for you, thank you for your support, prayers, and love. This story we’ve lived has been one wild ride and it has totally been worth it. Looking back, we’ve learned a ton through our successes and mistakes. And at the end of the day, we are better because Project Church existed. We hope you are too. We love you all!

Following the announcement to our leaders, my nine-year-old daughter squeezed my hand and said, “Thanks for choosing us, Daddy.”  Those five words sum up what this decision is all about.

I will conclude with a quote from the brilliant Dr. Seuss, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” We are so glad it did.

Love God. Love People. Live Free.

Jason and Gwyn Salamun

 ”For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” {Ecclesiastes 3:1}

On the surface, Breaking Bad is a story about a middle-aged, high school chemistry teacher who’s diagnosed with lung cancer and turns to manufacturing meth to provide financial security for his family before he’s gone.

Initially, you’re rooting for the protagonist, Walter White. While not agreeing with his decision to produce meth, his motivation is understandable and relatable. Most of us would go to great lengths to take care of the ones we love.  So we excuse Walter’s trips across the moral state line because, well, he’s dying.

Over the course of several seasons, his descent becomes clearer. His decisions and behavior reveal that this story goes much deeper than originally thought, and a more grandiose premise begins to emerge: this a story driven by a protagonist who gradually evolves into the antagonist.

And we, the viewers, are the ones who must discern how far is too far. Where’s the moral line a hero must cross before he becomes the bad guy? The show dares us to make that judgement—and therein lies the brilliance of the show.

In a piece by the New York Times, the creator of Breaking Bad, Vince Gilligan, gives us a glimpse under the hood of the story:

“If there’s a larger lesson to ‘Breaking Bad,’ it’s that actions have consequences… I feel some sort of need for biblical atonement, or justice, or something… I want to believe there’s a heaven. But I can’t not believe there’s a hell.”

Gilligan later states…

“I’m pretty much agnostic at this point in my life. But I find atheism just as hard to get my head around as I find fundamental Christianity. Because if there is no such thing as cosmic justice, what is the point of being good? That’s the one thing that no one has ever explained to me. Why shouldn’t I go rob a bank, especially if I’m smart enough to get away with it? What’s stopping me?”

This reminds me of the words of C.S. Lewis,

“My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?”

Whether he realizes it or not, Gilligan is stumbling upon a profound truth and this is what makes Breaking Bad so good: It’s an echo of the gospel story.

It explores the reality that we, like Walt, have a bent toward descent and are capable of much more than we realize—for better or for worse. Instinctively, we know there’s a distinction between right and wrong, between justice and injustice, and this is a clue to a much larger story. We know we deserve justice, but hope we get redemption.

As the narrative of Breaking Bad unfolds, I’m curious to see if it ends with justice for Walt, getting what he deserves or redemption, getting what he doesn’t.

Regardless, it’s remarkable storytelling that’s worth watching.

Likability. It’s something every protagonist must have in a story at some point.  Screenwriter Blake Snyder called this, “Save the Cat” in his book by the same name. It’s the part of a story when the hero, even if he/she is a jerk, does something that makes us want to root for them, such as save a cat. Although I’ve never come across a cat worth saving.

When you’re in a position of influence, likability is a must. It’s what gets folks wanting to join you on a journey, whether it’s a new venture, project, or presentation. If people like you, they are more apt to root for you. Bottom line.

Interestingly enough, sometimes it’s a flaw that makes us more likable.  Oprah Winfrey, with all her success, had a more favorable image when she struggled with her weight than when she appeared to have conquered it.  It made this mega-star, public figure more human. Thus, more likable. It made us think, “She’s just like us.”  And we like people like us. Flaws and all.

So what does this mean for you?

In your story, it’s important to embrace your humanity.

You might be quirky, weird, and different…
You might be gruff, tough, and obnoxious…
You might be jacked-up, messed-up, and fed-up…
You might be shy, reserved, and quiet…
You might be successful, interesting, and attractive…

Whoever you are, do something that gives us a glimpse of your heart, your humanity. Show us you’re like us. When we can relate to you, we may join you. And if nothing else, we will root for you.

Smile. Say something kind. Open a door. Help a kid. Pay for the meal. Laugh at yourself. Confess a flaw. Care about someone else. Admit a mistake. Save a cat.

It might seem small, but your likability is key to you living and telling better stories.