Change Isn’t the Disruption—It’s the Water We Swim In

Change is no longer a disruption—it’s the water we swim in. Socially, communally, personally, we are living in a season of churn. The ground beneath our feet is shifting faster than we can steady ourselves. And when the pace of change picks up, it can feel less like a calm stream and more like whitewater rapids—swift, unpredictable, even frightening.  It’s quite unsettling, but that’s the world leaders are called to navigate.

Expecting the Rapids

For many of us, there’s a lingering hope that the turbulence will settle, that the waters will smooth out, and we’ll return to calm. But that just isn’t the world we live in anymore.

Change is not an interruption of life; it is the rhythm of life.

If we are going to lead in this season, we can’t cling to the hope of still waters. We must learn to expect the rapids, and to prepare ourselves and our people for the ride.  It’s a proposition that is easy to talk about, and quite difficult do. 

When I reflect on my life experience, I really believe that this is where my years in law enforcement serve me well in ministry.  Whether patrolling the streets, conducting complex investigations, or protecting dignitaries, the one thing that was always certain was that the threat landscape was always evolving.  The change we experienced in the day-to-day led to decisions that were responses to the shifting landscape of the community, nation, and the world.

I think about a story I just read about yesterday, where the Secret Service in New York City took down a SIM farm  (300 SIM servers and 100,000 SIM cards) that was set up to be used to black out telecommunications around NYC and the United Nations.  Can you imagine if those agents were still working with analog devices, paper, and pencils?  In order to respond and fulfill their mission, the Service had to continue to change.

In the church, change is viewed at best as an option rather than a necessity.  Maybe it’s safety in the status quo, maybe it’s the fact that the world is changing and we just want one thing in our life to remain the same, or maybe we just abhor discomfort.  But change is a certainty in our world, and it is a necessity in our churches if we are truly serious about our faithfulness to the mission.

Often, when I talk about the faithfulness to the mission, there is an underlying assumption that I am less caring about people.  I admit, I am a mission-oriented thinker.  I do believe that the mission is the most important thing about the church.  For me, that is rooted in Luke 9:59-62.  And, I also believe that if I am fulfilling the mission then the people will be cared for.  You can care for people and not fulfill the mission, but I don’t think it is possible to fulfill the mission and not care for people.

Change can be overwhelming, emotionally heavy, and disorienting.  Yet, I do not believe we can become who God is calling us to be without change.  So, how do you move forward through it?   

The Role of a Guide

When I think about my role in the midst of this churn, I often imagine myself as a river guide. Guides don’t control the river. They don’t calm the current. What they do is far more practical—and far more important.

A guide knows the water well enough to see where it might pull us under. They recognize the hidden rocks and sharp turns. They shout instructions, not to stop the chaos, but to help the raft move with it. A guide is there to give courage, to provide direction, and—when things get rough—to remind everyone in the boat that they will make it through.

That’s leadership in a time of churn. We don’t eliminate change. We help people navigate it.  Having spent a considerable amount of time reflecting upon my experience leading change, I have learned a great deal over the years.  And although every context is different, the human responses to change are pretty common. The pitfalls, risks, and challenges can be very similar, and wisdom gained can help navigate uncertainty.

The Resistance Guides Face

Of course, not everyone wants to be guided. And not everyone agrees on where the raft should go. Not everyone believes that the raft is the best idea for traversing the rapids.  That’s one of the hardest parts of leading change: resistance.

Resistance is natural. When the water gets rough, fear and uncertainty rise. People cling to what is familiar, even if the familiar can’t carry them where they need to go. And in those moments, leaders bear the weight of that resistance.  And I have yet to have an experience where it has not felt personal.  But the leader is charged with caring for people and guiding people even if they disagree.  Sometimes people will talk behind your back, misrepresent what you say, and even misremember events as a response to experiencing change.  As a leader, you love them anyway. 

One of the prayers that I pray regularly through difficult seasons of resistance is, “Lord give me the heart I need to pastor your flock.”

Sometimes, that resistance shows up as criticism. Sometimes, it takes the form of hesitation or even sabotage. And almost always, it brings disappointment. And the one thing that I always remind folks is this: We may disagree, but let's not sin in our disagreement. The same can be said of our disappointment.

Dealing with Disappointment

This is perhaps the most painful truth about leading change: people will be disappointed in you.

Ron Heifetz and Marty Linsky have a great definition of leadership that speaks to this.  They say that leadership is disappointing people at a pace they can stand.

You can pray, plan, and prepare. You can act with integrity and good intention. And still, someone will feel let down. Someone will think you’ve taken the wrong path, ignored their concern, or risked too much.

I’ve had to learn—often the hard way—that disappointment is not the same thing as failure. In fact, if no one is disappointed, I may not be leading at all. Because real leadership, the kind that moves people forward, always means disrupting the status quo.

The challenge for me is not to avoid disappointment but to learn how to carry it. To resist the temptation to people-please my way back to calm waters. To keep guiding, even when the voices of frustration are louder than the voices of trust.

Reframing the Rapids

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: disappointment is a signpost. It’s not the end of the journey; it’s proof that the journey has begun.

When people feel unsettled, when the path forward isn’t universally cheered, it means we’ve left the shore of “what has always been” and stepped into the current of “what might be.” That’s where change actually begins.

It doesn’t make it easy. But it reframes the experience. Instead of seeing resistance and disappointment as failure, I can begin to see them as companions on the way to transformation.

Holding the Hope

At the end of the day, a guide doesn’t promise calm waters. A guide promises presence. They promise that no one will face the rapids alone. They promise that with courage and trust, we’ll reach the next stretch of river together.

That’s the hope I try to hold onto when the churn feels overwhelming. Change will always bring disruption. Leadership will always bring disappointment. But it can also bring new strength, new faith, and new community on the other side.

A Question for You

Where are you feeling the churn right now? In your work, your family, your church, or your community—where do the rapids seem overwhelming?

And what would it look like for you to step into the role of a guide? Not to control the river. Not to silence the resistance. But to help others move forward with courage and hope.

Because the rapids aren’t going away. But with the right guide, they don’t have to be the end of the story.