A Confession: The Moment I Knew it Was Time to Retire

There is a difference between having a plan and knowing when to execute it.

My retirement was not impulsive.

For years, I had been preparing for it—financially, professionally, and personally. I had set goals. I had established timelines. I had given careful thought to what the next season of my life would look like and how I would sustain it.

The plan was in place. But there is a difference between having a plan and knowing when to execute it. For me, that clarity came in a moment.

Every fourth Sunday in June, we recognized our high school graduates at First Baptist Church of Lincoln Gardens. It was a tradition I always looked forward to. The graduates would come forward, one by one, receive a small scholarship from the church, and announce their plans for college or whatever path they intended to pursue. It was a celebration of promise.

In June of 2017, about twenty-five seniors stood across the front of the sanctuary. As I looked at them, I had an unexpected reaction. I did not recognize any of them.

That realization hit me immediately.

For years, I had taken pride in knowing the young people in our church. I knew their names. I knew their parents. I knew their stories. I could greet them, encourage them, and in many cases, speak directly into their lives.

But on that Sunday, I was looking at a group of young people whose faces were unfamiliar to me. And I knew something had changed.

It was not just about recognition. It was about connection.

I had always believed that as a pastor I should be able to relate to the next generation—not only in personal interaction, but also from the pulpit. I worked hard to make sure my preaching could reach both those who had been in the church for decades and those who were just beginning to form their understanding of faith and life.

But culture was changing. And it was changing faster than it ever had before.

The gap between generations was no longer gradual. It was accelerating. Language, technology, expectations, and experiences were evolving in ways that made staying fully connected more challenging than it had been at any other time in my ministry.

That Sunday, standing in front of those graduates, I realized that I was no longer as connected to the next generation as I once had been. And for me, that mattered.

It may not be the deciding factor for every pastor. There are many ways to lead a church faithfully and effectively. But for me, being able to connect with young people—personally and from the pulpit—was an essential part of my calling.

When that connection began to weaken, I recognized it for what it was:

An inflection point.

That moment did not create the plan. It activated it.

From that day forward, I began to move with greater intention toward the transition I had already prepared for. What had once been a distant goal now became a present reality.

Retirement is not always triggered by exhaustion or failure. Sometimes it is prompted by awareness—an honest recognition that the season that once defined your effectiveness is beginning to change.

That Sunday in June 2017 gave me that awareness. I did not announce it. But I knew.

And sometimes, knowing is what gives you the courage to act on what you have already prepared to do.