On a stormy autumn evening, the local community centre lights flicker on, illuminating a hall that smells of wet coats and the remnants of an after-school kids club. This familiar hub for gatherings and classes has been transformed into a makeshift church venue. Rows of chairs face a shaky music stand, a projector is set up, and a white trestle table holds coffee and pastries, all arranged to create a welcoming atmosphere.
Bill, the church planter, stands off to the side, repeatedly checking his phone. Having recently moved to the town to plant a church, he anxiously taps his screen every thirty seconds, hoping for confirmation from those who promised to attend. He has prayed over every element, even as he made a frantic last-minute run for gluten-free cookies for those with intolerances. Yet, as the scheduled start time arrives, the room remains empty, and the silence amplifies his doubts.
That evening, the community centre is more than an empty room, it is a symbol of the risk of church planting. The vision of transformation he scribbled on his notepad two years ago suddenly feels fragile. Bill recalls the initial excitement, but now the fear of failure looms large. Was this dream too ambitious? Had his efforts been misplaced? The quiet room feels like a verdict on his calling.
He waits…and the fear creeps further in.
The Fear of Failure in Church Planting
For many church planters, fear is a constant, dark shadow every time we make a decision. You see, what we do it’s not just about launching a church; it’s about whether the vision will take root, whether people will come, whether the work will matter. Beneath the surface if we’re honest, it’s tied to our identity. We might realise this now, or maybe we have yet to, but at its root that’s what most of it is for us. Couple this with the financial strain of church planting, the updating of supporter, all culminating in the deeper question: What if I got this wrong?
Bill’s story above is fictional but familiar - maybe too familiar for us. He felt the call, took the leap, and poured everything into planting a new church. But months in, Sunday attendance wavered. The chairs outnumbered the people. Doubt crept in: Am I failing? Did I mishear God? Many planters have stood in that same room, staring at the silence, wondering what comes next. We can quote the Bible passages, smile as we explain that we are trusting in the faithfulness of God, but we feel that sense of uncertainty even as the words leave our lips.
The Weight of Expectations
Church planting isn’t just another form of ministry, it’s a conglomeration of vision, personal sacrifice, and external pressure. There’s the pressure of fundraising, the expectation of growth, and the unspoken fear that small numbers mean failure. In many circles, success is measured in rapid expansion, not slow, faithful work.
The emotional toll on church planters is real. When weeks pass with little visible progress, the burden grows. Every empty seat whispers inadequacy. Every message from a supporter stings as we feel we have nothing to show for their gifts and prayers. The fear isn’t just about whether the church will survive, it’s about what it means for our sense of calling, identity, and worth. We might not even dare to whisper this reality, but it’s there. What’s more, bottling this up, fearing exposure, risking vulnerability, leads many to burnout.
Facing the Fear Head-On
Fear of failure isn’t something to suppress; it’s something to confront. It can paralyse or propel, depending on how it’s handled. Ultimately it grinds us down until we realise that this is God’s work, not ours. His church, not ours. Paul is sharing in a context of suffering, division, and perhaps fear when he writes in Philippians 4:6-7;
6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
This fear is rarely in our circumstances, but grounded in our feelings of inadequacy. We have no idea how this will work out. However, Paul commends, this is the point. We are called to be surrenderers, not superheroes.
Here are a few ways in which church planters (and perhaps others in ministry) can push forward when doubt threatens to take over:
1. Acknowledge the Fear, But Don’t Let It Define You
Fear is part of stepping into the unknown, in some ways a partner of faith. Instead of pretending it doesn’t exist, name it. Recognise it for what it is; a response, not a reality. An empty room today doesn’t define the future, or your calling by God. Some of the most wonderful churches started with only a handful of people gathered in faith. God isn’t up in Heaven wringing His hands at the fact that ‘only’ a handful of people are meeting on a wet and windy night in February to study the Bible in your rural town. His delight is that His people are of one mind, delighting in Christ. In our church, those early days are a reminder of where God has brought us from. Of course there was much fear along the way, but a lot of faith got us to where we are today by God’s grace.
2. Redefine ‘Failure’
What if failure isn’t the absence of numbers but the absence of obedience? Church planting isn’t about a rapid rise; it’s about long-term faithfulness. Some fields take longer to cultivate, but cultivate we still must. I remember planting vegetables with my kids, and their faces of disappointment every day after they ran out expecting a harvest. It will come, I told them, but we have to wait and do the work to help the plants grow. It’s not that different with church planting. The early struggles refine vision, sharpen strategy, and deepen reliance on God. The idea of something ‘working’ really winds me up. “I tried that, and it didn’t work.” What we often mean is that it didn’t do what we thought it would! But, what if God has other, better plans, for this circumstance? What if He is at work and is lovingly beckoning us towards joining Him in it? Don’t look at others and earthly metrics to define success, trust in Him.
3. Build a Resilient Support Network
No one plants a church alone. Isolation amplifies fear, but community combats it. Seek out mentors, fellow planters, and wise voices who can remind you that struggle is not the same as failure. The best leaders are shaped in seasons of wrestling, times of struggle, and as one of my mentors likes to say, crucibles. Resilience is something forged in adversity, and normally among friends.
4. Stay Adaptable
Rigid plans break under pressure, but flexible leaders adjust and grow. If something isn’t ‘working’, pivot. Pray. Listen to your community. Refine the approach. Faithfulness isn’t about stubbornly sticking to a failing method, it’s about discerning how God is leading in the moment. Every community is different, and as much as we believe that the latest book/resource/podcast is the one, it might not have much affect in your church or community.
5. Strengthen the Spiritual Core
At its heart, church planting isn’t about strategies; it’s about faith. Prayer, Scripture, and reliance on God are lifelines, not afterthoughts. When fear looms large, return to the foundation: Why did I start? Who am I trusting? The mission was never yours to carry alone. And it’s not one we accomplish by ourselves.
Beyond the Fear
The journey of church planting isn’t about avoiding fear, it’s about walking through it with faith in the One who holds us. Some of the most enduring churches were once fragile, uncertain efforts. What made the difference? Planters who refused to let fear dictate their calling.
To the one standing in an empty hall, wondering if this was a mistake, your work matters. The empty seats are not a final verdict; they are a challenge. A challenge to keep going, keep believing, and keep trusting. The Kingdom is built not in moments of instant success but in the faithful perseverance of those who refuse to give up.
Fear may whisper failure, but faith declares something greater: God is still at work.
Keep going.