Ministry From a Place of Brokenness and Dependence

I don’t talk about this often, but the longer I’m in ministry, the more I realize how much of what I do flows out of the places where I’ve been broken—not the places where I feel strong.

Some of the best work God has done in me hasn’t come through victories, clarity, or momentum. It’s come through seasons where I felt stretched thin. Where I felt tired. Where I didn’t have the answers I wished I had. Where my prayers were quieter, slower, and more desperate than the ones I prayed in my twenties.

And standing in a room this week with a hundred youth pastors from around the country, I kept thinking: We’re all carrying something.
Every single one of us.
A story.
A limp.
A scar we’re still learning to walk with.
A burden we haven’t quite figured out how to shoulder.

And yet — somehow — God keeps using all of it.
Not despite the broken places…
…but through them.

It hit me again: ministry was never meant to be done from a place of polish. It was meant to be done from a place of brokenness and dependence.

Brokenness Is Hard, Dependence Is Harder

The hard part about embracing brokenness is… I don’t always want to.

I don’t want to talk about the parts of my story that wouldn’t make the highlight reel.
I don’t always want to bring up the moments where I felt inadequate, overwhelmed, unseen, or unsure.
I don’t love admitting when I’m exhausted or stretched thin or wrestling with things below the surface.

Brokenness feels like something you’re supposed to move past, not something you’re supposed to live from.

And dependence?
That’s even harder.

Because while I know surrender is where real power comes from, I live in the same world you do — the one that preaches strength as the only thing that wins. The world that tells you to be impressive, to be certain, to be self-reliant, to be more than enough on your own.

It’s not easy to admit dependence when everything in culture screams, “Figure it out. Push harder. Don’t show weakness. Don’t let anyone see you bleed.”

But Scripture does the opposite.
Over and over again.

It tells us that brokenness is the doorway to blessing.
It tells us dependence is the only soil where strength grows.
It tells us that weakness isn’t the thing God avoids — it’s the place He inhabits.

And somewhere along the way, I realized I needed to relearn what the Bible actually invites us into. Not the version of ministry built on polish, but the version that looks like Jesus.

So here are a few practical, scriptural ways I’m learning to live from brokenness and dependence — not perfectly, but intentionally:

Let Your Weakness Be Seen (2 Corinthians 12:9–10)

Paul didn’t hide his weakness. He named it. He even boasted in it — because it became the very place Christ’s power rested.

Practically, this looks like:

• telling trusted people when I’m overwhelmed

• asking for help before I hit the wall

• letting my team see the real version of me

• choosing honesty over image

Weakness isn’t a ministry liability. It’s the soil where real ministry begins.

Carry Only What’s Yours to Carry (Matthew 11:28–30)

Jesus didn’t ask us to carry the whole world — He asked us to come to Him.

Dependence means learning to:

• name the burdens that aren’t mine

• let go of outcomes I don’t control

• let Jesus define success, not hustle

• choose rest before exhaustion chooses me

Dependence isn’t passive. It’s choosing the right yoke — His.

Invite People Into Your Story (James 5:16)

We weren’t meant to heal alone.

When James says, “Confess your sins to one another… that you may be healed,” he’s reminding us that healing is communal, not solitary.

Practically:

• letting trusted friends into my real emotional and spiritual state

• refusing to lead from isolation

• modeling the vulnerability I hope my students choose someday

• asking for prayer instead of acting like I don’t need it

Brokenness connects us.
Dependence forms us.
Vulnerability deepens us.

Why This Matters for the Ministry I’m Called to Lead

The longer I lead, the more convinced I become that ministry isn’t a museum for the already-polished — it’s a research hospital.

A place where:

• people come in hurting

• leaders are trained while they’re still healing

• everyone learns on the job

• no one is pretending

• we grow by doing the work side by side

• we disciple out of the same grace that is healing us

In a research hospital, residents learn by walking the halls with someone who has a limp.
They grow because someone ahead of them is willing to show the scars and explain what those scars taught them.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize: that’s the ministry I want to lead.

A ministry where brokenness isn’t hidden but held.
Where dependence isn’t weakness but wisdom.
Where leaders are formed in real time as we work out our faith together.
Where students, volunteers, residents, and interns all learn to carry the gospel with compassion because they’ve seen it restore places in us we could never restore ourselves.

If the Shepherd in Luke 15 goes after the One with a heart full of compassion, then the leaders I’m called to train will need the same kind of heart.
And compassion is rarely formed in comfort — it’s shaped in brokenness and dependence.

A Final Thought

If you’re leading, serving, parenting, mentoring, or simply trying to walk faithfully with Jesus in this season, let me remind you:

You don’t have to be polished to make an impact.
You just have to be honest.
You don’t have to be perfect to lead.
You just have to be dependent.

And if we keep growing this way — broken, dependent, learning, equipping — then maybe we’ll become the kind of ministry that doesn’t just treat spiritual wounds…

…but trains the healers who will one day help others find their way Home.