Multiply or Die

Foreword

There are books you read and appreciate.

And there are books that read you.

Multiply or Die is the second kind.

Before I say anything else, I want to acknowledge something deeply

personal. I believe the leadership of our father, Andrew Evans, helped

form much of who we are today. His faith, courage, and obedience laid

foundations that shaped our lives and our ministry.

What Ashley has demonstrated, however, is the next dimension of that

legacy—not just preserving what was built, but taking it to a

greater level. That progression—from foundation to expansion—

proves the very concept and truth of this book.

Legacy is not maintenance. Legacy is multiplication.

Ashley is not just a respected global leader—he is a builder of

builders. For decades, through Futures Church, he has carried a

conviction that what we build must outlive us. That leadership is not

about holding—it is about releasing. That the true measure of

success is not accumulation, but multiplication.

Many may not fully realise that Planetshakers Church was released out

of Futures Church. A seed was sown. Space was created. Trust was

given. And that seed multiplied.

Today, that multiplication has touched the globe. In churches across

continents, believers lift their voices in worship songs that were

birthed from that seed. Every time a Planetshakers song is

sung anywhere in the world, it stands as a living testimony of what

happens when a leader chooses to release rather than retain.

Ashley released—and Planetshakers multiplied.

That is not just history. That is the message of this book.

Through Futures Church, Ashley has demonstrated that multiplication is not theory. It is intentional. It is strategic. It is spiritual. He has built with succession in mind. He has empowered leaders early. He has created environments where others could rise. And the result has been leaders who lead leaders across cities and nations.

The Genesis mandate—be fruitful and multiply—is not optional in the Kingdom. Jesus made disciples who would make disciples. Movements are sustained not by personalities but by transferable leadership.

This book carries that conviction.

It confronts every leader with a simple reality: if you remain the centre of what you build, you will become the ceiling of it. But when you release, empower, and develop others, what you carry can extend far beyond your own reach.

The story of Futures Church—and the seed that was released— demonstrates this in a powerful way. Multiplication requires humility. It requires trust. It requires courage. But when it happens, it can touch the globe.

If you are building anything that matters, this book will challenge you to think generationally. To develop leaders intentionally. To build structures that can grow without you. To see succession not as a threat, but as stewardship.

Ashley, thank you for modelling what you teach. Thank you for releasing leaders. Thank you for sowing seeds that have multiplied across nations.

I love, honour, and thank you for your faithfulness to the Kingdom and

for your commitment to raising leaders who will carry the mission

forward.

The future belongs to multipliers.

—Russell Evans

Founder, Planetshakers Church

Founder, Planetshakers Ministries International

Founder, Empower Feeding Centres Vice Chair, Empower 21

Acknowledgments

This book exists because of the grace of God and the faithfulness

of people who believed in this message long before it

became a manuscript.

To Jane, my wife of nearly four decades—you are my life partner,

my ministry partner, and my greatest gift from God. Without you, I

could never have overcome the difficulties I’ve faced, nor built

anything of lasting value. You’ve walked every season with me—from

burnout to breakthrough, from scarcity to supply. You believed in

multiplication when I was still learning to live it. This book, this

ministry, this life—it’s all ours together. I love you beyond words.

To my three sons and their families—Mark and Lauren, Nate and

Chloe, and Benjamin—you never had to follow God’s call into

ministry, yet each of you has chosen this path not because we pushed,

but because you witnessed multiplication lived out in our home.

Watching you lead, serve, and pour out your lives for the kingdom is

the greatest joy of my life. You are living proof that multiplication

produces fruit across generations.

**To our boards, leadership teams, and the global family of Futures

Church**—your wisdom, sacrifice, and faithfulness have built what no

individual ever could. You’ve carried this vision across nations and

cultures. Thank you for standing with us.

**To every leader who invested in me when I had nothing to offer in

return**—the seeds you planted are still bearing fruit.

And to you, the reader—may you catch the vision of multiplication. May you build something that outlives you by centuries. And may you finish strong.

Quick Read Guide

MULTIPLY OR DIE:

THE CORE FRAMEWORK

If you only had a few minutes to grasp the heartbeat of this book,

here it is.

THE CORE PREMISE

Everything you build has an expiration date—the day you leave.

Unless you multiply leaders who can carry it forward.

Addition builds monuments. Multiplication builds movements.

THE THREE PILLARS OF MULTIPLICATION

1) The Theology—The Genesis Code. Multiplication is God’s first command. It is woven into creation and fulfilled in the Great Commission.

2) The Person—The Multiplier Within. You cannot multiply externally if your internal receiver is broken. Healing, humility, and faith unlock reproduction.

3) The System—The 4D Protocol. Discover hidden potential. Develop through proximity. Deploy through trust. Depart to release others into leadership.

KEY FRAMEWORKS YOU’LL LEARN

» Monuments vs. Movements—why addition kills and multiplication

survives

» The Twelve Tribes Architecture—scaling without centralizing

» The Five Batons of Succession—what must transfer for transition to

work

» The H.E.A.T. Scorecard—Hungry, Effective, Adaptable, Transferable

» The Mortgage-Neutral Church—turning liability into multiplier

» The Multiplication Marriage—when one plus one equals ten thousand

BOTTOM LINE

If it can’t grow without you, it won’t survive after you.

Multiply—or die.

Introduction

The Law You Can’t Escape

You’re going to die.

I’m not trying to be dramatic. I’m trying to save you from the biggest

mistake leaders make.

Because here’s what happens to most leaders: They work hard. They

build something. They achieve success. They feel proud. And then they

die. And within ten years, everything they built is gone.

Why?

Because they built with addition instead of multiplication.

Addition dies when you die. But multiplication? Multiplication

outlives you. It compounds. It expands. It accelerates. It turns one

into millions.

THE GRAVEYARD

I didn’t learn this law in a classroom. I learned it in a graveyard—the graveyard of a church campus I had to shut down.

We’ve planted more than twenty-one churches over the last twelve

years. Most have flourished. But the truth is: some failed. Not

because multiplication doesn’t work. But because I didn’t follow the

rules.

I had a fantastic young leader. Passionate. Committed. Heart for the lost. We spent months praying together. The blueprint was clear: plant on the east side of the city. Thousands of people were moving there. Aspirational. Growing. Hungry.

But this young leader had a different idea. He wanted to plant near his house. On the west side.

I knew the blueprint said east. But I looked at this young man—so passionate, so ready—and I thought about the commute, the burden on his family. I felt sorry for him.

So out of kindness—out of compassion—I made a decision I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

I said yes to the wrong location.

We launched with good people. Good hearts. Good intentions. But it didn’t work. The west side was old money. Established families. Closed circles. Nobody was moving in. Meanwhile, on the east side—where I should have planted—thousands of people were desperate for community. But we weren’t there.

I watched that church plant struggle and the pastor get more and more weary in front of my eyes.

And I’ll never forget the day I had to tell that young leader: “We’re closing the campus.”

The pain in his eyes. The confusion. He’d given everything. But it failed because I ignored the Law of Multiplication.

I learned the hard way: You cannot break the rules of multiplication and expect multiplication results.

THE QUESTION THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING

That failure taught me that multiplication isn’t a preference. It’s a

discipline. It’s a set of laws. And if you violate them, things die.

So let me ask you a question that will determine whether your

leadership creates a moment or a movement: *What are you building that

will still be growing one hundred years after you’re dead?*

Not “What are you achieving in your lifetime?” Not “What are you

accomplishing this year?”

But what are you building that outlives you by centuries?

Because if the answer is “nothing,” you’re not a multiplier. You’re

just another addition thinker with a great résumé and a short shelf

life.

THE SHOCKING PARABLE

Jesus told a parable that should terrify every leader.

A master gave three servants different amounts of money: five talents

to the first, two to the second, one to the third. The first two

invested and doubled their master’s money. The third buried his talent

for “safekeeping.”

When the master returned, he praised the first two and condemned the

third.

Now here’s what rocks everything: The first servant made five talents.

The second made two. But the master gave them identical praise:

“Well done, good and faithful servant!” (Matthew 25)

Why?

God doesn’t measure you by total output. He measures you by your

multiplication rate. The guy who turned five into ten got the EXACT

same response as the guy who turned two into four. “Well done, good

and faithful servant.” Same words. Same reward.

So why do we act like God only claps for the big producers?

Now look at the guy who buried his talent. The original Greek reveals

a leader who was timid—paralyzed by the fear of getting it wrong,

choosing the safety of the dirt over the mission of his Master.

He didn’t rebel. He didn’t run. He just... stopped. And from the outside? He probably looked responsible. Safe. Even faithful.

But here’s what we miss—in the Kingdom, faithfulness IS fruitfulness. You can’t separate the two. The moment you stop multiplying what God gave you, you’re not being faithful. You’re being fearful.

And when we allow timidity to shut down our multiplication, we’re not just being “careful.” We’re in quiet retreat from the very first command God ever gave humanity. That command hasn’t been revoked.

THE CHOICE BEFORE YOU

You have two paths.

Path One: Addition. Work harder. Achieve more. Build bigger. Do it yourself. The result? A great career. A nice legacy. And when you die, it mostly dies with you.

Path Two: Multiplication. Work smarter. Develop others. Build systems. Release leaders. The result? A movement that outlives you.

A legacy that compounds for generations. An impact that never dies.

One path is easier. The other is eternal.

One path is about you. The other is about them.

One path maxes out at your capacity. The other has no ceiling. Which

will you choose?

THE FINAL QUESTION

So here’s the question this entire book answers:

Will you multiply, or will you die?

Not physically. But legacy-wise.

Will you build something that multiplies beyond you? Or will you be buried with your potential still inside you?

The choice is yours. But multiplication isn’t optional.

It’s survival.

Let’s begin.

A WORD BEFORE WE START

I need to say something before we go any further.

I’ve been part of a denomination my entire life. Our churches in

Australia are part of the ACC—the Australian Christian Churches. Our

churches in Indonesia are part of the GSJA. Our US churches are

independent—a different structure for a different context. But the

DNA was formed inside a denominational family. I carry it in my bones.

I’m not an orphan building an island. I believe in spiritual family.

I believe in covering and accountability.

What I don’t believe in is stagnation disguised as tradition.

This book is disruptive. It’s supposed to be. But when you read me

challenging structures, I’m not swinging at your denomination. I’m

swinging at the mindset that settles for addition when God commanded

multiplication.

Open movements that empower their sons and daughters to build,

multiply, and expand—those movements will thrive. Rigid structures

that mistake control for unity will not. If your denomination gives

you runway to multiply, thank God for it and run. If it doesn’t, this

book will give you the language to start a conversation that might

change everything—not by leaving your family, but by helping your

family see what’s possible.

Chapter 1

The Math That’s Killing You

WHY YOUR GREATEST YEAR

WROTE YOUR DEATH SENTENCE

I need to tell you something nobody else will.

Your success is killing you.

We think our failures kill us, and that’s true for many. But there’s something else that kills you that isn’t obvious until it attacks: your success. That year when everything worked. When the numbers climbed, the team grew, the revenue jumped, and everyone celebrated. That year wrote you a formula that would guarantee you die—because that year taught you the wrong lesson.

It taught you that your effort produces results. That your leadership drives growth. That if you just work harder, push further, sacrifice more—the numbers will keep climbing. And they will. For a while. Until they don’t. Until you hit the invisible wall, the ceiling you can’t see, the limit you didn’t know existed.

And here’s the brutal truth: that ceiling is you.

You are the constraint.

You are the bottleneck.

You are the lid.

Not your team. Not your resources. Not your location. Not your competition. You. Your capacity, your energy, your time, your attention, your bandwidth. Addition has a ceiling, and that ceiling is the adder.

THE PASTOR WHO COULDN’T BREAK 200

I watched a pastor hit this wall for a decade. Good man. Faithful.

Loved his people. Solid preacher. Stuck at 200 for ten years.

He kept asking me, “What am I doing wrong? I’m working harder than ever. Why won’t we grow?”

I spent time with him. Watched him work. Saw the problem immediately: he was doing the work of ten people. Preaching. Counseling. Visiting. Planning. Leading worship. Running programs. Fixing the sound system. Answering every email. Taking every call. He wasn’t pastoring a church—he was running a ministry sweatshop where he was the only employee.

I told him the truth: “You’re the problem. You’re doing everything. And as long as you’re doing everything, you’ll stay exactly where you are.”

He looked offended. “But this is what pastors do.”

“No,” I said, “this is what addition pastors do. And addition always has a ceiling.”

Two hundred was his ceiling because that’s how many people one person can effectively care for while doing everything else he was doing. He couldn’t break through because he was the lid.

I wish I could tell you he listened. I wish I could tell you he changed. He didn’t. Last I heard, he’s still at 200—still exhausted, still wondering why God won’t bless his faithfulness with growth.

It was never a faithfulness problem. It was a math problem.

Addition: 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 5. No matter how hard you work, no matter how many hours, no matter how much you sacrifice—you’re still just adding. And addition has limits.

THE CAMPUS PASTOR WHO BROKE THROUGH

But let me tell you about Steve.

Steve was one of our campus pastors years ago. Brilliant with people. Fantastic on stage. Everyone loved him. But his campus had hit a ceiling, and he couldn’t figure out why.

For two years, I hinted. I suggested. I had conversations where I’d probe around the edges, trying to help him see what I was seeing. Every time, he’d nod and say he understood. He’d agree with whatever I said. And then nothing would change.

Looking back, I can see it now—he was dodging. Not out of rebellion, but out of fear. He feared scrutiny. He feared conflict. So he kept agreeing with me to end the conversation, hoping I’d move on.

I spent months trying to diagnose him from a distance. Was he lazy? Was he rebellious? Was he just not capable? None of those fit. Steve worked hard. He wasn’t pushing back against me. And he clearly had gifts.

Finally, after two years, I came to a conclusion: Steve didn’t know how. He was brilliant at ministry—connecting with people, preaching, pastoral care—but he didn’t know anything about building. He didn’t know how to develop leaders. He didn’t know how to create systems. He didn’t know how to multiply. And because he didn’t know, he couldn’t grow. His lack of progress wasn’t a character problem. It was a knowledge problem.

I realized he needed a gentle but straight confrontation. Not hints. Not suggestions. Direct truth.

I was nervous. I believe everyone deserves honesty and an opportunity to know where they fall short so they can grow—but believing it and doing it are two different things. I didn’t want to crush him. I didn’t want him to think I’d given up on him.

We sat down, and I spent two hours walking him through my diagnosis. Everything I’d observed. Every pattern I’d noticed. Every gap I could see. I held nothing back.

He completely agreed. There were tears. But there was also relief—I could feel it coming off him. For two years, he’d known something was wrong but couldn’t name it. Now everything was on the table. I hadn’t rejected him. I’d given him clarity. And I felt relieved too—finally, I could teach him directly instead of dancing around the edges.

That conversation changed everything.

With regular check-ins and direct coaching on how to build—not just minister—Steve’s growth has been nothing short of incredible. The confidence, the leadership, the ability to develop others and create systems instead of just caring for people. His campus got much bigger. The momentum grew; the team became a strong team. The results were brilliant and tangible.

Similar diagnosis to the pastor stuck at 200. Different response. Different outcome.

The math works. But only if you’re willing to hear the truth and change the equation.

THE YEAR I NEARLY KILLED MYSELF WITH ADDITION

I’m not just preaching theory. I nearly died proving it wrong.

In 1995, I was thirty-one years old. Leading the largest youth and young adult ministry in Australia. Over a thousand young people in attendance and fourteen hundred young people to care for. Ten staff members. Hundreds of leaders. Compelling growth over five years.

And I was living by addition.

Addition thinking doesn’t just limit your growth. It buries you.

Running this massive ministry like it was a connect group. Eighty personal contacts every week. Preaching. Leading. Out six nights a week. Every time I felt the weight crushing me, I’d think: If I can just do a few more hours, I’ll get on top of it. Just add more. Work harder. Run faster.

And in 1995, I didn’t collapse the ministry.

I collapsed myself.

Burnout. Complete physical and emotional collapse. The addition equation had reached its limit: Ashley plus more hours plus more effort equals zero.

That’s when I learned the brutal truth: Addition thinking doesn’t just limit your growth. It buries you.

Here’s what nobody told me in my twenties:

Working harder isn’t the answer. Multiplying leaders is.

Doing more isn’t the strategy. Releasing others is.

Being the hero isn’t faithfulness. Developing heroes is.

If I could go back to 1995 and do it over, I wouldn’t work eighty hours a week making eighty personal contacts. I’d work forty hours a week developing ten leaders who could each make twenty contacts. That’s two hundred contacts instead of eighty—and continuing to multiply. That’s building something that outlives you instead of something that dies when you leave.

The pastor stuck at 200 didn’t change the equation. Steve did. I learned the hard way—through burnout—that the equation had to change or I would break.

Which brings us to the math that actually works.

THE MULTIPLICATION MATH

Let me show you the different equation.

Multiplication: 1 × 2 × 2 × 2 × 2 = 16. Then 32. Then 64. Then 128. Then it explodes. Because multiplication doesn’t scale to your capacity—it scales to their capacity. You develop leaders. Those leaders develop leaders. Those leaders develop leaders. And suddenly you’ve escaped the prison of your own limitations.

Here’s the question most people miss: Would you rather have one million dollars cash today, or a penny that doubles every day for thirty days?

Most people take the million. It’s immediate, it’s certain, It’s a lot of money. But here’s what they don’t see:

Day 1: $0.01

Day 10: $5.12

Day 20: $5,242

Still behind the million? Wait. Day 30: $10,737,418.

That’s the power of multiplication. It’s slow at first—agonizingly slow. You look at your penny and think, This is ridiculous. But if you stay the course, if you trust the math, if you keep multiplying instead of adding—it explodes.

THE BOTTLENECK IS ALWAYS YOU

Here’s what I finally understood: In every organization, there’s a bottleneck. And 90 percent of the time, that bottleneck is the leader.

You make all the decisions? You’re the bottleneck.

You approve everything? You’re the bottleneck.

You’re in every meeting? You’re the bottleneck.

You’re the only one with the vision? You’re the bottleneck.

And here’s the trap: The better you are at what you do, the worse the bottleneck becomes. Because everyone learns to wait for you, to depend on you, to need you.

Your competence creates their incompetence.

Your availability creates their dependency.

Your heroism creates their helplessness.

You think you’re serving.

You’re actually suffocating.

THE ADDITION AUDIT

Before you move forward, you need to diagnose whether you’re adding or

multiplying. Answer these questions honestly:

1) If you took a three-month sabbatical tomorrow, would your organization continue to grow or just maintain?

2) Are you working more hours this year than last year to produce the same results?

3) When key decisions need to be made, does everyone wait for you?

4) If you’re honest, do you enjoy being needed more than you enjoy developing others?

5) How many leaders in your organization can do what you do at 80 percent effectiveness?

If you answered “maintain” to question one, “yes” to questions two through four, and “less than three” to question five—you’re in the addition trap. The math that’s killing you isn’t complicated. You’re just using the wrong equation.

The next chapter will show you the graves I had to dig before I learned these lessons fully. Because the math is simple. Living it is hard. And I’ve got the scars to prove it.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Addition has a ceiling. That ceiling is you. Your best year taught you

the wrong lesson—that your effort produces results. But the truth is

brutal: you are the constraint, the bottleneck, the lid. Addition

scales to your limitations. Multiplication scales to their capacity. I

learned this the hard way in 1995—burnout nearly killed me because I

was living by addition.

The Shift:

Stop adding. Start multiplying. The penny that doubles for thirty days

beats a million dollars cash—but only if you trust the math and stay

the course. Develop leaders who develop leaders who develop leaders.

Escape the prison of your own limitations.

The Audit:

If you can’t leave for three months without things stalling, if you’re

working harder for the same results, if everyone waits on you, if

fewer than three people can do what you do—you’re trapped in

addition. The math isn’t complicated. You’re just using the wrong

equation.

Chapter 2

The Multiplication Graveyard

FIVE GRAVES I DUG WITH MY OWN HANDS

Behind every thriving ministry is a graveyard.

Come with me. I need to show you the graves before you trust the glory.

I don’t trust leaders who only show me their wins. Instagram is full of highlight reels—photoshopped success, filtered faith. Real leadership has scars. And I’ve got plenty.

You’ve already walked through two graves with me. In the introduction, you saw me bury a church plant on the wrong side of the city because I confused compassion with wisdom. In chapter 1, you saw me collapse in 1995 because I built a monument to my own indispensability instead of a movement that could survive without me.

Those graves taught me that addition thinking buries you, and good intentions don’t overcome bad strategy.

Now, let me show you five more.

Five monuments to my own stupidity, impatience, and pride. Five lessons written in failure. Every grave taught me something—and now I’m teaching you so you don’t have to bury what I buried.

GRAVE #1: THE JUDAS

This one nearly destroyed me.

Year seven of our church plant. We’d multiplied five times in just a few years. The momentum was electric. And then one of my closest leaders decided he wanted what I had. Not alongside me. Instead of me.

He started meeting with staff privately, planting seeds of doubt, building his own coalition, preparing for a split. When I confronted him, he denied everything. When the evidence became undeniable, he blamed me—I was too controlling, too dominant, too unwilling to share leadership.

Jane had warned me about him months earlier. She saw what I refused to see. “Something’s off with him,” she said. “He’s positioning himself. Watch how he talks about you when he thinks you’re not listening.”

I dismissed her. I liked him. He knew how to flatter me, and I fell for it. He’d tell me I was the best leader he’d ever served under, that he was learning so much, that he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. And I believed him—because I wanted to believe him.

The split was devastating.

It was a silent earthquake that tore people out of the “best” church they had ever been in. About 200 people left with him over nine months, and another hundred just left.

My frustration wasn’t just about being betrayed. It was knowing the people who went with him would be betrayed too—by him, in time—and that many would lose faith entirely. And that’s exactly what happened. Within a couple of years, people started to wake up and see the manipulation, and finally, almost everyone left. Most of the families who left with him never attended another church. Some of them came and apologized to me for falling for it, including a pastor he hired.

Flattery blinds you.

Discernment saves you.

One day, a few months after the split, God spoke to me: Jesus had a Judas too. And the question wasn’t whether I’d been betrayed. The question was: Ashley, can you rise again? Jesus was betrayed and killed, but he rose again. Every leader must learn to rise again.

That night changed everything. I realized I had allowed bad culture to happen without confrontation. I had let his rebellion water down my convictions. I’d been investing in charisma instead of teachability because there were results. I’d been impressed by talent instead of testing for faithfulness.

The grave marker reads: ”Here lies the one who looked good but wasn’t good. Potential without character is poison.”

Not everyone who wants to lead should lead. Not everyone who can preach should plant. Not everyone with a gift has the character to carry it. Multiplication without discernment doesn’t create leaders—it creates disasters.

I learned during that painful season that listening to Jane and the people on my team with the gift of discernment was the key to avoiding these mistakes. Flattery blinds you. Discernment saves you.

GRAVE #2: THE SAVIOR COMPLEX

I’ve always believed in people. Sometimes too much.

Over the years, I developed what I can only call a savior complex. When a staff member started drifting—showing up late, missing deadlines, pulling back emotionally—I wouldn’t address it directly. I’d try to save them. I thought if I could just speak to them the right way, nudge them gently, reason with them patiently, they’d come back around. They’d remember why they started. They’d recommit.

So I’d have coffee meetings. Long pastoral conversations. I’d adjust their workload, give them grace, create space for them to “find themselves” again. I was endlessly patient, endlessly hopeful, endlessly convinced that my loyalty would be rewarded with their transformation.

It almost never worked.

One of my pastors said something to me years ago that I wish I’d heard earlier: “Better a blowout than a slow deflation.”

He was right. When I look back over the years at the staff who became terminal—the ones whose hearts had already left even while their bodies were still showing up—90 percent of them eventually left the organization anyway. All my coffees, conversations, and patience didn’t change the outcome. They just delayed it. And in the delay, I wasted enormous amounts of time and energy that should have been invested in people who were actually going somewhere.

The slow deflation is worse than the blowout. A blowout is painful, but it’s clear. Everyone knows what happened. You grieve, you adjust, you move on. A slow deflation poisons the culture for months—sometimes years. Other staff watch someone coast. They see the double standard. They wonder why leadership tolerates it. Morale erodes. Trust erodes. And by the time the person finally leaves, the damage has spread far beyond them.

My savior complex wasn’t compassion. It was overconfidence dressed up as kindness. I wanted to believe they could be redeemed. So I kept trying to save people who had already made up their minds in their hearts.

The grave marker reads: ”Here lies the time wasted trying to keep people who had already left. Loyalty to the wrong people is disloyalty to the right ones.”

You can’t multiply someone who’s already mentally checked out. And every hour you spend trying to resuscitate someone who doesn’t want to be resuscitated is an hour stolen from someone who’s hungry to grow.

GRAVE #3: EIGHT YEARS WASTED

This one is completely my fault.

Talented young pastor. Charismatic. Could preach. Could lead. Everyone loved him. I invested eight years in him—coaching, mentoring, correcting, believing, hoping, waiting. Nothing changed.

He was unteachable. Not because he was rebellious, but because he already knew everything.

Every time I corrected him, he had an explanation. Every time I challenged him, he had an excuse. Every time I pointed out a pattern, he deflected. He could explain away anything. And because he was smart and articulate, his explanations always sounded reasonable in the moment.

The signs were there in year one. But I ignored them because I saw his potential. I believed in his gifts. I wanted him to succeed. So I kept investing, kept hoping, kept waiting for a breakthrough that never came.

Jane asked me in year two: “How long are you going to carry him?” I

didn’t listen.

Eight years later, I finally let him go. And within six months, he was out of ministry entirely. Eight years of investment—gone. Eight years that could have been poured into someone teachable, someone hungry, someone who would have multiplied what I gave them.

The grave marker reads: ”Here lies eight years that should have been invested in the teachable. Potential without teachability is a trap.”

You can’t multiply unteachable people. You can only exhaust yourself trying. The early signals matter. If someone can’t receive correction in month three, they won’t receive it in year three. Don’t waste your best years on leaders who can’t learn.

GRAVE #4: DELEGATING TO THE WRONG PEOPLE

I love developing others. I don’t need to take credit for every win. I

genuinely want my pastors to shine, to grow, to be the heroes in their

own departments.

But this strength became a weakness when I started delegating the wrong things to the wrong people.

Here’s what I used to do. When a staff member deserved a raise or a promotion, I’d make the decision, but then I’d delegate the announcement to their direct supervisor. I wanted the pastor over that area to get the credit. I wanted them to have the relational win. Same with discipline. If a staff member needed correction, I’d discuss it with their pastor, reach an agreement on the approach, and then let them deliver the message.

Sounds like good delegation, right? Empowering middle leadership. Staying out of the weeds.

It backfired catastrophically.

Repeatedly, I discovered that the messenger I delegated to either stole the credit or shifted the blame. When it was good news—a promotion, a raise, a new opportunity—the pastor would frame it as their own advocacy: “I’ve been recommending this to leadership for months. I finally got them to see what I’ve seen all along.” My role was diminished. Their role was inflated. The staff member walked away thinking their direct supervisor was their champion, and I was the obstacle who had to be convinced.

When it was bad news, the opposite happened. The pastor would position themselves as the reluctant messenger: “Leadership has decided...” or “Ashley feels that...” Suddenly, I was the faceless authority figure imposing discipline, and they were the compassionate buffer protecting their staff from me.

I didn’t realize how much damage this was causing until an exit interview years later. A pastor I had promoted, invested in, and personally credentialed was leaving for another opportunity. In our final conversation, he talked about how much he’d loved working with us—and then he said, “It all goes back to Pastor So and So, who saw something in me from the beginning, who fought for me, who believed in me when no one else did.”

I sat there stunned. Everything he had just attributed to that pastor was my doing. My thinking. My belief in him. I had made every one of those calls. And here he was leaving—partly because he thought I didn’t value him. The very person I had championed thought I was indifferent to him, because I had let someone else deliver every piece of good news.

I’ve also had pastors come to me about their staff, get me to agree on a corrective conversation, and then go tell the staff member that I was angry with them to get the results they wanted but were scared to deliver—creating fear and distance between me and people I actually cared about.

The grave marker reads: ”Here lies the credit that was stolen and the blame that was shifted. Delegation without presence is abandonment.”

I no longer allow others to deliver significant good news without being in the room. I no longer allow others to deliver discipline on my behalf without me present. If I made the decision, I own the delivery. My pastors can be in the room, but they don’t speak for me anymore. They speak with me.

GRAVE #5: THE EXODUS

This grave is different. Because it wasn’t exactly a failure—it was

a filter. But it sure felt like failure at the time.

In 2006, I told my senior leadership team I was going to America. Here’s a warning for leaders: I shared an idea. I didn’t share the strategy. Big difference.

Over the next two years, they all left. Except one. And then he left too.

Without the strategy, the idea becomes a threat.

From 2007 to 2009, Jane and I went through a serious pruning. It felt like loss. We had invested in those leaders carefully, believed in them, built with them—only to watch them walk away.

But God showed me something: don’t ever share a big idea without sharing the strategy. Most people can’t process big ideas in isolation. They hear “America,” and they think, abandonment. They hear “expansion,” and they think, I’m being left behind. Without the strategy, the idea becomes a threat.

As I look back now, I realize that God was changing the model of the church—and these great men, who are doing amazing things for God today, were part of an old model. Their leaving allowed a new team of young leaders to rise who understood and believed in the new model. Since then, our church has multiplied by three. And the leaders who left? They’re also flourishing, leading seriously large and thriving churches.

The grave marker reads: ”Here lie the ones who were pruned—and are bearing fruit.”

Multiplication will always cost you some people because multiplication requires death, and not everyone is willing to die. The ones who leave aren’t your problem. They’re your clarification. You’re not building for everyone. You’re building for the ones who can see what you see and are willing to die to see it multiplied.

Every grave taught me something.

Grave #1: Character matters more than talent.

Grave #2: Loyalty to the wrong people is disloyalty to the right ones.

Grave #3: Unteachable people can’t be multiplied.

Grave #4: Delegation without presence is abandonment.

Grave #5: Pruning is necessary for multiplication.

These aren’t theories. They’re scars.

Jane and I have buried dreams. We’ve failed spectacularly. We’ve made mistakes that cost years and resources and relationships. But every grave became a teacher. And now I’m teaching you so that you don’t have to learn what I learned the hard way.

You’re about to read chapters on how to multiply, how to build legacy, how to create movements that outlive you. But before you do, I needed you to see the graves. Because the glory without the graves is just propaganda. The multiplication without the mistakes is just Instagram. And we’re not interested in selling you a fantasy.

We’re interested in giving you a blueprint—built on failure, refined through pain, proven through decades.

THE GRAVEYARD AUDIT

Before you move on, you need to audit your own graveyard. Every leader

has graves. The question is: What are they teaching you?

1) What’s the costliest leadership mistake you’ve made? Write it down. Don’t sanitize it. What did it cost in time, resources, relationships?

2) Did anyone warn you before it happened? If yes, did you listen? If no, do you have people with discernment on your team?

3) Are you repeating any patterns from your graves? Saying yes out of compassion? Investing in unteachable people? Trying to save people who’ve already left in their hearts? Delegating credit and blame to others?

4) Who are you currently investing in that shows early warning signs? Unteachability? Character issues? Mental checkout? Positioning for power?

5) If you could go back, what would you do differently? Now do that with your current decisions.

The graves aren’t there to haunt you. They’re there to teach you. Learn the lesson. Then lead differently.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Behind every thriving ministry is a graveyard. Five graves teach five

lessons: The Judas taught that character matters more than talent. The

Savior Complex taught that loyalty to the wrong people is disloyalty

to the right ones. The Unteachable taught that potential without

teachability is a trap. Delegating to the Wrong People taught that

delegation without presence is abandonment. The Exodus taught that

pruning is necessary for multiplication. These aren’t theories.

They’re scars.

The Shift:

The glory without the graves is just propaganda. Stop investing in

charisma over teachability. Stop saying yes out of compassion when

wisdom says no. Stop trying to save people who’ve already left in

their hearts. Stop delegating credit to others and blame to yourself.

Stop confusing pruning with failure. The graves aren’t there to haunt

you. They’re there to teach you.

The Audit:

Take the Graveyard Audit. What’s your costliest mistake? Did anyone

warn you? Are you repeating patterns? Who shows early warning signs

right now? What would you do differently if you could go back? Now do

that with your current decisions. Learn the lesson. Then lead

differently.

Chapter 3

The Vision-Impaired Leader

WHY MOST LEADERS

CAN’T SEE WHAT’S RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM

I saw her across the room. A young, bubbly teenager. Full of life

and joy.

No Harvard degree. No obvious talent. No developed skills. But she had what I call “puppy’s feet.”

You know when you see a puppy with oversized paws? Those paws tell you something: this animal is going to grow into something big. Janine had puppy’s feet. She had capacity waiting to be developed potential that wasn’t obvious to anyone else.

So I invited her to one of my training courses. And I watched her become a sponge. She absorbed everything, took notes, asked questions, applied immediately.

She was like bamboo. If you’ve ever watched bamboo grow, you know that for the first four years, nothing visible happens. It looks dead. You water it, fertilize it, wait. And nothing. But underground? The root system is spreading, building strength, preparing for what’s coming. Then, in year five, bamboo explodes—grows up to 90 feet in six weeks.

That was Janine. For years, she developed quietly. Small group leader. Ministry director. Campus team member. Nothing flashy.

Nothing headline-worthy.

Then we gave her a campus.

One month later, COVID shut the world down. Not only that, but the previous campus pastor had left and taken a few dozen people with him. She inherited an exodus and a pandemic in her first thirty days.

Most leaders would have crumbled. Most would have been happy just to survive.

Janine didn’t survive. She multiplied.

Here’s what she did. First, she leaned hard into her mentors. Her hub pastor, Josh, walked with her through the chaos of people leaving, helped her with systems and organization, backed her up when she needed it, and helped her process the pain without getting paralyzed by it. She didn’t try to be a hero. She stayed connected to people who could pour into her while she was pouring out.

Second, she pivoted fast. Within one week of lockdowns, her campus was on Zoom. That sounds normal now, but in March 2020, most churches were still figuring out what Zoom was. We were ahead of the curve because of our international weekly communications—we’d been using video conferencing for years. Janine didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the tool and ran.

But here’s what really set her apart: her greatest strengths aren’t strategic. They’re spiritual and relational. Janine is a woman of extraordinary prayer and faith, mixed with a natural personality that draws people in. She didn’t multiply through clever systems. She multiplied through presence, prayer, and genuine love for people.

Five years later, that campus has doubled. Not despite the pandemic and the departure, but through them. The very things that should have killed the campus became the soil for multiplication.

Because Janine had something you can’t teach: she had calling, she had teachability, she had tenacity.

That story proves that I can see potential when I’m looking properly. Which makes my next story even more painful.

THE LEAD COMMUNICATOR WHO WASN’T CALLED

I saw him in the room and knew immediately. Creative. Dynamic. Unique

ability.

We needed someone to lead our Sunday night services, which was a creative outreach program running Sunday nights with over a thousand people attending. High visibility. High stakes. The perfect platform for someone with his talent. He was perfect for the role. So I put him in.

Within three months, we had problems. I was doing all the work. He was cruising.

Three months in, I asked him how the team was developing. He said, “Great.” I asked who he was investing in personally. Silence. Then: “I’ve been focused on the preaching side.”

That was the tell. He wanted the platform. He didn’t want the people.

Nine months later, he left. Still super talented. Still creative. Still dynamic. Just not in ministry.

And I’m still asking, What did I miss?

He was perfect for the role. But it’s obvious that he didn’t have the call to build and lead.

Let me be clear about something: I don’t believe you can be called to preach without being called to build. The whole glory of God in Exodus was a building plan—God didn’t just give Moses a message; He gave him a pattern for the tabernacle. He gave him the model for the first CDC, the DOJ, DOH, and all the systems required to build a nation. The ultimate sign of God’s presence was the impartation of how to build. Jesus’s mandate wasn’t just “preach the gospel.” It was “make disciples,” and making disciples is building. If you want the platform without the people, you haven’t understood what the calling really means.

Calling isn’t talent. Calling is conviction. It’s the thing that keeps you in the game when the game stops being fun. It’s what made Janine push through a pandemic and an exodus in her first month instead of quitting. He had ability. He didn’t have an anchor.

The leaders who should possess the sharpest vision for potential

are often the most blind to it.

Here’s what made it worse. I knew this could happen. Because I’ve learned something over forty years: Whenever I consult the seers on my team, the people with discernment who see beneath the surface, I don’t make mistakes. But I didn’t ask them this time.

Why? Impatience. And because I believe in everybody. That sounds noble. It’s not. It’s vision impairment dressed up as faith.

Jane saw it in the first meeting. Asked me later: “Did you notice he never asked a single question about the mission? Only about the platform.”

I brushed it off. I looked at his talent. I didn’t look deeply at his convictions. I saw what he could do. I didn’t see what he wanted. I evaluated competence. God evaluates calling.

Nine months of frustration. A thousand-person program that limped instead of multiplied. A role I had to fix after he left. Because I was vision-impaired.

Here’s the problem: the leaders who should possess the sharpest vision for potential are often the most blind to it.

Experience—when unexamined—breeds assumptions. Years of leadership, uncalibrated, calcify into rigid formulas. Success, unhumbled, carves out dangerous blind spots. And those blind spots cause you to walk right past the very people God prepared to carry your legacy forward.

That’s the Vision-Impaired Leader’s Paradox: the more you think you can see, the more you’re guaranteed to miss.

I saw Janine because I was looking with the right eyes that day. I missed the IC pastor because I was looking with the wrong ones. Same leader. Same experience. Same discernment available. Different results.

What made the difference?

WHERE I LEARNED TO SEE

I spent the first six years of my life as the only White boy for a

thousand miles.

Growing up in Papua New Guinea’s Black tribal culture marked me in many profound ways. I learned that the kingdom isn’t monocultural. I learned that if you only see leaders who look like you, talk like you, and come from where you came from, you’ll miss most of what God is doing.

That childhood shaped how I see people. When Jane and I planted our first campus, we knew what we were building: a church that represents heaven now, not just later. We’re not waiting for Revelation 7:9—“every nation, tribe, people and language”—to happen in eternity. We’re attempting it in real time.

Futures Church now has twenty-one campuses across four countries. In many of our campuses, White people are the minority. We serve Asian communities, Latino communities, African communities, Middle Eastern families, Pacific Islander families. We conduct services in multiple languages. Our economic diversity spans from university students to working-class immigrants to professionals.

This matters because it forced me to develop different eyes. I couldn’t rely on the usual markers. I had to learn to see puppy’s feet in people who didn’t fit any formula I’d been handed.

That’s why I saw Janine. Young, bouncy, no credentials—but I wasn’t looking for credentials. I was looking for capacity. I was looking for calling. I was looking for puppy’s feet.

And that’s why I missed the IC pastor. I stopped looking with those eyes. I saw his talent and assumed the rest. I let his platform presence blind me to his heart.

The difference wasn’t my experience. It was the eyes I was using.

THE FOUR VISION IMPAIRMENTS

Over forty years, I’ve identified four specific vision impairments

that cause leaders to miss their best people. I’ve been guilty of all

four.

Vision Impairment #1: Past-Tense Vision. This is when you see someone’s history instead of their potential. You’re so fixated on what was that you can’t see what could be. I’ve done this—mourned the leader who left, compared every new candidate to the old guard, seen yesterday’s success as tomorrow’s requirement. Your attachment to yesterday isn’t nostalgic. It’s blindness to tomorrow. God doesn’t wait for your grief. He’s already preparing the replacement.

Can you see them? Or is past-tense vision making you miss your next

multiplier?

Vision Impairment #2: List-Based Vision. This is when you have a mental checklist of what a leader “should” look like. Seminary degree. Public speaking ability. Certain personality type. Impressive résumé. Right connections. But God’s list looks different. Moses stuttered. Gideon hid. Peter denied. Paul persecuted. None of them made the “qualified leader” list. Yet God chose them. Here’s the deeper problem: familiarity breeds blindness. How many times have I overlooked someone because I knew them too well? Saw their flaws. Remembered their failures. Knew their background. And missed their calling. Your list is too small. Throw it away.

Vision Impairment #3: Formula-Based Vision. This is the one that got me with the IC pastor. I had a formula for what success looked like in that role. Creative? Check. Dynamic? Check. Unique ability? Check. He fit the formula perfectly. So I didn’t look deeper. Didn’t ask: Does he have conviction? Is he called or just capable? Does he want this vision or his vision? I assumed that because he fit my formula, he’d succeed. Man looks at outward appearance. God looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). You’re measuring charisma; God is measuring character. You’re counting credentials; God is counting faithfulness. You’re evaluating competence; God is assessing calling. The person who looks most like a leader often isn’t. Your formula might be your biggest blind spot.

Vision Impairment #4: Impatient Vision. This is when you want developed leaders now. I did this with the IC pastor. We needed someone. He was available. He looked good. I didn’t wait. I didn’t test. I didn’t listen to the seers on my team. I was impatient. Impatient vision makes you grab whoever’s available instead of finding who’s best—fill positions instead of building people, hire for speed instead of selecting for multiplication. But multiplication is patient work.

Discovery takes time. Testing takes months. Development takes years.

There are no shortcuts. The cost of impatience is exponential.

So answer honestly: which vision impairment is killing you?

1) Past-Tense: Are you still comparing every candidate to someone who left? Do you find yourself saying, “They’re not like [name]” more than once a month?

2) List-Based: Have you passed over someone in the last year because they didn’t have the “right” background—even though something about them kept nagging at you?

3) Formula-Based: When’s the last time you promoted someone who surprised you? If everyone you elevate fits the same profile, your formula is running the show.

4) Impatient: Did your last three hires happen because you “needed someone now”? How many are still with you?

Your primary impairment is the one that made you defensive just now.

THE PROPHET WHO ALMOST MISSED THE KING

Even Samuel—the prophet—nearly made the same mistakes.

First Samuel 16. God sends Samuel to Jesse’s house to anoint the next king. But Samuel arrives vision-impaired.

Past-Tense Vision: God has to confront him first. “How long will you mourn for Saul?” (v. 1) Samuel was so fixated on the king who failed that he couldn’t see the king God was preparing.

Formula-Based Vision: Eliab walks in. Tall. Imposing. Kingly. Samuel’s internal dialogue: Surely, this is the one. He looked exactly like Saul. Same formula. Same assumptions. God interrupted: “Do not consider his appearance or his height....The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (v. 7).

The prophet—the guy who talks to God—was moments away from anointing the wrong king.

List-Based Vision: Jesse didn’t even call David in from the fields. Why? David wasn’t on the list. Not old enough. Not experienced enough. Not proven enough. Jesse knew David too well. That familiarity made it impossible to see his greatness (vv. 11).

Impatient Vision: Samuel endured seven rejections before asking the right question. Seven sons. Seven “not this one.” Seven false starts. Most leaders give up by son four. Settle for Eliab just to be done. But Samuel stayed through seven disappointments (vv. 6-11). And then he asked: “Are these all the sons you have?” (v.10) That question found the king.

David was in the fields. Invisible to everyone except God. And the only reason Samuel found him was that he kept asking when everyone else would have settled (1 Samuel 16:1-3).

THE QUESTION THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING

“Are these all the sons you have?”

That’s the question vision-impaired leaders never ask. They see the obvious candidates and stop looking. They evaluate the people in the room and miss the one in the field. They settle for Eliab because David isn’t on their list.

You can’t fix vision impairment alone. That’s why God gave you seers.

I almost missed Janine. Young. Passionate. No credentials. Nothing on paper that said “future campus pastor.” But I asked the question. I looked past the obvious candidates. I saw the puppy feet.

I missed the IC pastor because I didn’t ask the question. I saw his talent and stopped looking deeper. I evaluated the platform fit and missed the heart.

Same leader. Different questions. Opposite outcomes.

You can’t fix vision impairment alone. That’s why God gave you seers.

Every team has them. People with discernment. People who see beneath the surface. People who notice what you miss.

Jane is one of my seers. She saw the IC pastor’s heart in the first meeting. I brushed it off. She’s seen dozens of people I was ready to invest in and quietly said, “Not this one.” When I listen to her, I don’t make mistakes. When I don’t, I bury years in the wrong investments.

Find your seers. Consult them before you commit.

THE THREE QUESTIONS TO ASK YOUR SEERS

Before you commit to any significant leadership investment, ask someone with discernment:

1) “What do you see in them that I might be missing?” This surfaces both potential and red flags.

2) “What questions did they ask?” Jane’s observation about the IC pastor: “He never asked about the mission. Only the platform.” The questions people ask reveal what they actually want.

3) “Would you trust them with your team?” Not, “Are they talented?” Would you hand them your people? That question cuts through everything.

And ask the question Samuel asked: “Are these all the sons you have?”

Because somewhere out there is a Janine. A future multiplier disguised as a bouncy teenager with puppy feet. A leader who will inherit a pandemic and an exodus in their first month and double the campus anyway.

You won’t find them on your list. You won’t spot them with your formula. You won’t discover them if you’re in a hurry.

But if you ask the right question? If you look with the right eyes? If you consult the seers and stay patient through seven disappointments?

You’ll find your David.

And David doesn’t just lead. David multiplies.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

The leaders who should possess the sharpest vision for potential are

often the most blind to it. Experience breeds assumptions. Success

carves dangerous blind spots. Four vision impairments cause you to

miss your best people: Past-Tense Vision (fixating on what was),

List-Based Vision (judging by credentials, not calling), Formula-Based

Vision (checking boxes instead of hearts), and Impatient Vision

(choosing urgency over discernment). Janine had puppy’s

feet—capacity waiting to be developed. The IC pastor had talent but

no calling. Same leader, different eyes, opposite outcomes.

The Shift:

Stop trusting your eyes alone. Find your seers—people with

discernment who see beneath the surface. Consult them before you

commit. Ask Samuel’s question: “Are these all the sons you have?” Look

for puppy’s feet, not résumés. Look for calling, not just competence.

Look for conviction, not just capability. The person who looks most

like a leader often isn’t. Your formula might be your biggest blind

spot.

The Audit:

Before committing to any significant leadership investment, ask

someone with discernment three questions:

1) What do you see in them that I might be missing?

2) What questions did they ask?

3) Would you trust them with your team?

Who are your seers? When did you last consult them before making a

major leadership decision? Are you in too much of a hurry to see what

God is showing you?

Chapter 4

The Genesis Code

THE COMMAND GOD GAVE

BEFORE ALL OTHER COMMANDS

God’s first command to humanity wasn’t moral. It was generational.

Be fruitful. Multiply. Fill (Genesis 1:28).

Before He said, “Don’t eat from that tree” (Genesis 2:16-17), God said multiply. Before the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1-17), God said multiply. Before “love your neighbor” (Leviticus 19:18; Matthew 22:37-40), God said multiply.

It was God’s first command to humanity. It was Jesus’s last command before He ascended. And everything in between is just the how.

This isn’t a book about church growth strategy. This isn’t a business concept I picked up at a conference. This is the very genesis of humanity and God’s plan for it. And most leaders have completely missed it.

THE THEOLOGY IN YOUR BIOLOGY

You were born when twenty-three chromosomes from your father and

twenty-three chromosomes from your mother collided. One solitary cell

was created.

Think about it. God could have brought you into this world any way He wanted. Storks could have delivered us. Amazon could have shipped us. Angels could have placed us in cribs. But God chose to deliver us into the world in a way that would express His theology through our biology.

You started as one cell. So small it couldn’t be seen by the human eye. Yet within that one cell was the blueprint for multiplication that would create the person you are today.

That one cell multiplied and became two. Two became four. Four became eight. Eight became sixteen. Then 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, 1,024, 2,048, 4,096. On and on and on. Until those multiplied cells specialized and formed your organs, your skin, your brain, and every part of your body.

Even today, your very survival depends on the constant miracle of multiplication. Your bone marrow produces 2.5 million red blood cells every second. Your skin replaces 330 billion cells every month.

Your intestines renew every cell every two to three days.

Why? Because without multiplication, life would stop. It’s multiply or die. Not just for your organization—for your body.

Romans 1:20 tells us: “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made.” Biology reveals theology. God designed multiplication into the fabric of creation itself.

THE FIRST COMMAND

When God created humanity, His first command was about multiplication:

“God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and [multiply];

fill the earth and subdue it’” (Genesis 1:28).

This was completely new to Adam and Eve. They had never heard anything like this. Everything had been done for them. They were created perfect. The garden was perfect. They didn’t lift a finger to make any of it happen.

And God speaks into their complete ignorance a concept that describes His plan for how humanity will expand. They didn’t understand reproduction. They didn’t understand families. They didn’t understand nations. But God spoke multiplication into their ignorance anyway. Because some things you don’t need to understand before you obey.

Notice something critical. Genesis 1:28 doesn’t start with the command. It starts with blessing: “God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’” The blessing came first. Then the command.

This is crucial. Multiplication isn’t something you do in your own strength. Multiplication flows from blessing. God’s blessing enables God’s command. When God tells you to multiply, He’s also empowering you to multiply. Which means if you’re trying to multiply without God’s blessing, you’re working against the design. But if you’re walking in His blessing, multiplication is built into the equation.

The good news? If all this talk of multiplication is new to you, that’s okay. God is rewiring your understanding. Lean in and learn— everything will change.

THE COMMAND INTO DEVASTATION

After the flood, the world was devastated. Everything Noah knew was

gone. Everyone he knew was dead. He had nothing except his immediate

family and the animals he took on the ark and some reminders of the

past.

And God came to Noah and issued the exact same command: “Then God blessed Noah and his sons, saying to them, ‘Be fruitful and [multiply] and fill the earth’” (Genesis 9:1). In verse 7, He reiterated it again: be fruitful and multiply.

Same command. Same blessing. Different circumstance. God spoke into Adam’s ignorance. God spoke into Noah’s devastation.

Both got the same word: multiply.

I don’t know what you’ve been through. Maybe you’ve just experienced a devastating loss. Maybe you look around, and there’s nothing but wreckage and some reminders of what used to be. God is coming into your world and declaring to you that He wants you to be fruitful and multiply. Not just restore—but like Job, get back so much more than you started with.

Whether at creation or after a reset, God’s plan never changes. His desire is for His people to multiply, to expand, to dominate the earth—not for our glory, but for His.

God is such a God of multiplication that the universe is constantly expanding. He is such a God of multiplication that whenever the wind blows, billions of spores and seeds are released to multiply across the earth.

THE BABEL REBELLION

Now watch what happens in Genesis 11.

After God’s command to Noah to multiply, humanity grows. Hundreds of families now spread across the earth. They arrive at the valley of Shinar. And they make a decision—a decision that will mark the beginning of humanity’s great struggle with God’s plan, a decision that shows the contrast between God’s desire for us to multiply and our desire to play it safe and settle.

Genesis 11:3-4 (NLT): “Come, let’s build a great city for ourselves with a tower that reaches into the sky. This will make us famous and keep us from being scattered all over the world.”

Did you catch that last phrase? “Keep us from being scattered.” Keep us from multiplying.

When I was growing up, I was told they built the Tower of Babel because of pride. But look closer. The real reason they built the tower was fear: “Lest we be scattered abroad.”

These families refused to trust God. They chose to settle. To build monuments instead of movements. To create personal kingdoms instead of expanding God’s kingdom. The problem wasn’t that they were too ambitious. The problem was that their hearts had shrunk. They didn’t trust God. In their refusal to move forward, they had become rebellious to God’s plan, which was expansion and growth.

The fight is always the same. God wants us to keep pushing out and constantly multiplying. But once we reach safety, we instinctively want to settle.

Finish this well-worn phrase for me: “I can’t wait to get married and. ..” Settle. Think about that. People start with being adventurous and daring and involved, but once they get married, they can’t do anything. They stop dreaming. Stop risking. The adventure dies. They have settled down. And it’s dangerous.

“I can’t wait till I retire and...” Settle down.

Have you settled down? Are you content with what you have today? Some of you have stopped dreaming. Stopped believing. Stopped multiplying because you’ve faced rejection or failure. You’ve settled into a routine. You’ve allowed fear to keep you from stepping out in faith.

But I’m here to tell you today: God’s call to multiply hasn’t changed. He’s looking for leaders who won’t settle. Who won’t shrink back. Who will trust Him for more.

MULTIPLICATION THROUGH IMPOSSIBILITY

Here’s where it gets beautiful.

After Babel’s rebellion, God narrows His focus. Instead of forcing multiplication on everyone, He chooses one man. And not just any man—a really old man with an old, barren wife:

*”I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will

make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those

who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on

earth will be blessed through you.” —Genesis 12:2-3*

Think about God’s strategy here. He could have chosen a young, fertile couple. He could have stacked the deck in favor of natural multiplication. But He didn’t. He chose Abraham at seventy-five.

Sarah at sixty-five. Both well past childbearing years.

Why? Because God chose a couple who couldn’t multiply naturally to make His point to the rest of us for all time. Multiplication isn’t about your ability. It’s about His blessing.

When multiplication comes through natural means, humans take credit. When multiplication comes through impossibility, God gets the glory. And God wanted to make it crystal clear: this was never about human capacity. It was always about divine intervention.

Abraham and Sarah waited twenty-five years for Isaac. Twenty-five years of disappointment. Twenty-five years of doubt. Twenty-five years of wondering if God really meant what He said. But when Isaac finally arrived? The impossible had happened. And everyone knew: this wasn’t human effort. This was God. That’s why He chose them. So we would never forget.

THE GOD OF GENERATIONS

Now watch how God defines Himself.

When Moses stands before the burning bush, trembling at the edge of the impossible, he asks the obvious question: “Who are You? What name do I give the Israelites when they ask who sent me?”

God could have said anything. “I am the Almighty.” “I am the Creator.” “I am the One who spoke the universe into existence.” First, He declared His eternal nature: “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3:14). Self-existent. Uncreated. Beyond time.

But then He elaborated. Exodus 3:15: “Say to the Israelites, ‘The LORD, the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has sent me to you.’ This is my name forever.”

Read that again. Slowly. God first declared His eternal self-existence. Then He defined His covenantal identity through three generations. This isn’t a historical roll call of patriarchs. This isn’t God reciting His résumé. This is a theological blueprint for multiplication embedded in the very identity of the Almighty.

When God wanted to reveal who He fundamentally is, He pointed to three generations. Not one great man. Not a single towering achievement. Three generations of handoff. Three generations of succession. Three generations of multiplication.

God defines Himself generationally. That should stop every leader in their tracks.

If God defines His own identity through generational succession, what does that mean for how we should lead?

Your greatest achievement isn’t what you personally produce.

It means intentional succession. Each name in that verse represents a distinct leader, a new season, a necessary handover. There’s no “forever” leader in God’s economy. Abraham had to hand off to Isaac. Isaac had to hand off to Jacob. Jacob had to hand off to his sons.

It means transference of blessing. The promise wasn’t consumed by Abraham. It was transferred and expanded through his lineage— designed to outlive the initiator.

It means generational view. God’s vision always extended beyond a single lifetime. Always. He told Abraham his descendants would be like the stars, like the sand on the seashore. Abraham would never see that personally. But he was called to build for it anyway.

God thinks in centuries. Most leaders think in quarters. Your greatest achievement isn’t what you personally produce. It’s the enduring, multiplying capacity of the generations you raise and release.

THE GENESIS CODE AMPLIFIED

Some people think the Genesis Code was just Old Testament. Just for

the ancient world. Just about having physical children.

Wrong.

Jesus amplified the Genesis Code.

Matthew 28:19-20: “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.”

Go. Make disciples. All nations. Same command. Same scope. Same multiplication DNA.

This is the Great Commission. And it’s the Genesis Code applied to the kingdom of God. Fill the earth—with disciples. Multiply— believers. Take dominion—through the gospel.

The Genesis Code didn’t expire. It expanded.

And here’s what that means for you. When you align with the Genesis Code, you align with God’s design. And when you align with God’s design, you access God’s power. Multiplication becomes natural—not because you’re working harder, but because you’re working with the grain of the universe.

Against God’s design, everything is hard. With God’s design, everything flows. The Genesis Code is the grain of the universe. Multiply with it, and the universe works for you. Resist it, and you’re swimming upstream your whole life.

You weren’t created to add. You were created to multiply. It’s in your DNA. It’s in your biology. It’s in your theology. It’s the Genesis Code. And it’s time you started living it.

THREE KEYS TO MULTIPLICATION

You understand the theology now. Multiplication is God’s first

command. His design. His DNA woven into creation. But how do you

actually do it? How do you move from understanding multiplication to

experiencing multiplication?

Abraham and Sarah teach us three non-negotiables. Three keys that unlock multiplication in business, church, and family. Miss any one of these three and multiplication stalls. Master all three, and multiplication becomes inevitable.

Key #1: Connect

You can’t multiply what you won’t connect with.

Abraham and Sarah had to connect to produce Isaac. Obvious in marriage. Less obvious in leadership. But the principle is identical. Multiplication requires connection—intentional, sustained, strategic—with the right people. Not networking. Not schmoozing.

Not collecting business cards. Real connection. Deep connection.

Multiplication-level connection.

Here’s what that means. You must connect with intention— not casually, not accidentally, not “when you get around to it.” Abraham didn’t stumble into producing Isaac. He connected intentionally with Sarah. Repeatedly. Strategically. With the goal of multiplication.

You must connect with consistency. One conversation doesn’t produce multiplication. One meeting doesn’t create transformation. Abraham and Sarah connected for twenty-five years before Isaac came (Genesis 17-18; Genesis 21:1-7). That’s approximately 9,125 daily connections. Consistency compounds.

You must connect with the right people. Abraham didn’t try to produce Isaac with Hagar (Genesis 16:15-16; Genesis 17:18-20). Wrong connection. Wrong timing. Wrong strategy. You can’t multiply with just anyone. You need people with multiplication capacity. People hungry for more. People ready to receive what you’re sowing.

Here’s the leadership translation. In business: connect intentionally with high-capacity leaders—not just employees, but multipliers. People who can take what you give them and reproduce it in others. Meet regularly. Invest deeply. Build beyond transactions.

In church: connect with those who are spiritually hungry. Not consumers—disciples. People who want to be developed, not just served. Pour into them. Mentor them. Develop them until they can develop others.

In family: connect with your spouse, your kids, your extended family. Not superficially—deeply. Meals together. Conversations that matter. Time that compounds. Marriage doesn’t multiply accidentally. It multiplies through intentional connection.

The multiplication question: Who are you connecting with intentionally, consistently, and strategically? If the answer is no one, you’re not multiplying. You’re just busy.

Key #2: Sow

Connection without sowing only leaves memories. Multiplication requires deposit.

Abraham and Sarah had to sow seed to produce Isaac. Connection created the opportunity. Sowing created the result. You can connect all day—meet for coffee, have great conversations, build relationships. But if you don’t sow something life-giving into the connection, nothing multiplies.

Connecting without sowing is like arousal without consummation. Excitement without outcome. Potential without pregnancy.

You’re supposed to leave people different.

Too many leaders connect with people, get excited about potential, enjoy the relationship, but never sow anything that produces multiplication.

Connection creates the relationship. Sowing

creates the legacy.

Here’s what sowing means. In business: sow knowledge, authority, opportunity, resources. Don’t just manage people—develop them. Give them more than a job description. Give them vision, training, responsibility beyond their current capacity. Stretch them. Challenge them. Equip them.

In church: sow the Word, sow faith, sow vision. When people encounter you, they should leave pregnant with something from God. Not just entertained. Not just comfortable. Changed. Sowing means staying in connection long enough for the energy of the moment to translate into lasting transformation.

In family: sow time, wisdom, affirmation, correction. Don’t just exist in the same house—invest in your people. Your spouse needs you to sow into them. Your kids need you to sow vision, character, and identity into them. Connection creates the relationship. Sowing creates the legacy.

The critical principle: sowing is costly. Abraham gave up seed to produce Isaac. Seed that could have gone somewhere else. Seed that represented potential. Multiplication always costs something. You can’t sow and hoard simultaneously. You can’t develop others and protect yourself at the same time. You can’t multiply and stay in control. Sowing requires release.

The multiplication question: What are you sowing into the people you’re connecting with? If you’re not sowing anything, you’re not multiplying. You’re just collecting relationships.

Key #3: Heal Your Multiplier

This is the key most leaders miss. And it’s the one that explains why so many are stuck.

Sarah was barren. Her multiplier was broken. She could connect. She could receive seed. But nothing multiplied. Why? Because something inside her needed healing. God had to heal Sarah’s multiplier before Isaac could come. And the same is true for you.

Inside every leader—inside you—is the God-given ability to multiply. It’s not optional equipment. It’s standard. God embedded it in you at creation. When He breathed life into Adam and commanded him to be fruitful and multiply, that command came with capacity. God doesn’t issue commands without providing the ability to fulfill them. You were designed to multiply. It’s in your spiritual DNA.

So here’s the question that haunts every struggling leader: if everyone has the capacity to multiply, why doesn’t everyone multiply?

Every leader has the same creation mandate. Every believer has the same Holy Spirit. Every pastor has the same Great Commission. Yet some multiply and some don’t. Some build movements. Others build monuments to their own insecurity. Some develop leaders. Others hoard control. Some reproduce themselves a hundredfold.

Others die with everything still locked inside them.

Why? Because their multiplier is broken.

Multiplication isn’t just about output. It’s about input first.

Before Sarah could produce Isaac, she had to receive the seed. Before

you can produce multiplication, you have to receive revelation.

There’s a part of you that’s supposed to be constantly growing,

constantly receiving, constantly being shaped by fresh insight from

God, from mentors, from life, from failure, from feedback. That’s the

part that makes multiplication possible. But in many leaders, that

part is damaged.

WHAT BREAKS THE MULTIPLIER

Your multiplier didn’t break on its own. Something—or someone—

broke it.

Negative words spoken over you. Words are containers. They carry life or death. Blessing or curse. Expansion or limitation. Proverbs 18:21 says, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21, ESV). And somewhere along the way, somebody spoke death over your multiplication capacity. Maybe it was a parent who said you’d never amount to anything. A teacher who told you that you weren’t leadership material. A pastor who overlooked you. A spouse who criticized you. A mentor you trusted who said, “You’re just not ready.” Those words didn’t just hurt. They lodged. They embedded themselves in your spirit like shrapnel. And every time you tried to receive something new—a fresh vision, a bigger dream, a bold instruction from God—those words activated.

Fear. Remember Sarah? She laughed when God said she would have a child. That wasn’t joy. That was fear disguised as disbelief. She was afraid to receive the promise because receiving it meant risking disappointment again. Twenty-five years of hoping. Three hundred months of the dream dying. And somewhere in that process, her ability to receive shut down. It’s easier to laugh than to hope. It’s safer to dismiss than to believe. It’s less painful to mock the promise than to stake your heart on it one more time. Fear of disappointment locks the door. Fear of failure barricades reception. Fear of looking foolish seals the womb. And multiplication stops because nothing can get in anymore.

Inability to be open and vulnerable. Multiplication requires openness. Vulnerability. Receiving something from outside yourself. Multiplication is impossible for the closed. But many leaders have learned to protect themselves so well that they can’t receive anymore. They got burned by a relationship, so they stopped letting people in. They got hurt by a mentor, so they stopped being teachable. They got wounded by a church, so they built walls around their hearts. They got betrayed by a partner, so they decided to go it alone. Those walls feel like protection. But they’re actually prisons. Because the same walls that keep pain out also keep seed out. You can’t multiply in isolation. Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s the prerequisite for multiplication.

Pride and self-sufficiency. Pride is the ultimate blocker. When you’re convinced you have all the answers, you stop asking questions. When you believe you’ve arrived, you stop growing. When you think you’re the smartest person in the room, you stop receiving from others. Jesus said it plainly: “Unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3, author paraphrase). Children are receivers. They absorb everything. They’re sponges for input. But somewhere along the way, leaders trade childlike receptivity for adult arrogance. They stop being students and start being experts. They stop being mentees and demand to be only mentors. They stop learning and start defending what they already believe. Nothing new can enter because there’s no room. The cup is already full—full of themselves.

Unforgiveness and bitterness. Bitterness is a multiplier-killer. Unforgiveness keeps you tethered to the past. It chains you to the person who hurt you. It forces you to replay the offense over and over. And while you’re stuck replaying the past, you can’t receive the future. Your capacity is occupied—full of old wounds, full of resentment, full of the narrative of what they did to you. There’s no bandwidth left for new revelation. There’s no capacity left for fresh vision. There’s no room left for the seed that would produce multiplication. Hebrews 12:15 (several translations) warns about a “root of bitterness” that defiles many. It’s a root because it goes deep. It embeds itself in your spirit. And it defiles—it contaminates everything that tries to grow in that soil.

Unprocessed disappointment. Abraham and Sarah faced 300 disappointments. Twenty-five years. Three hundred months of hoping this is the month. And it never was. That kind of repeated disappointment does something to you. If you don’t process it, it processes you. It shapes your expectations. It programs your anticipation. It teaches you to expect failure before you even begin. And eventually, you stop anticipating good things. You learn to expect disappointment. So you stop opening up. Stop preparing. Stop making room for the promise. Because what’s the point? That’s not wisdom. That’s wounds driving behavior. And wounded behavior doesn’t multiply. It protects. It hoards. It hides. It survives. But it doesn’t multiply.

THE DIAGNOSIS

So here’s the diagnostic question: is your multiplier broken?

You can connect with the right people. You can sow into them strategically. But if your multiplier is broken, nothing will reproduce. Your multiplier is your internal capacity to receive revelation, grow from it, and produce multiplication. It’s your heart. Your mindset. Your character. Your spiritual health. And for most leaders, it’s damaged.

How do you know your multiplier is broken? When it’s not working. When you’re connecting and sowing, but nothing is multiplying. When you’re working hard but seeing no reproduction. When you’re investing in people, but they’re not developing. When you’re pouring out but seeing no fruit. When the same issues keep recurring in every team you lead. When you can’t seem to receive correction without getting defensive. When you resist new ideas because “we’ve always done it this way.” When you can’t let go of control. When you’re threatened by the growth of those around you.

Something is broken inside.

THE HEALING

Here’s the hard truth: You can’t heal your own multiplier. Sarah

couldn’t heal her own womb. God had to intervene. You need God to heal

what’s broken inside you.

The negative words that embedded themselves in your spirit? God’s Word has to displace them. The fear that locked down your ability to receive? Perfect love has to cast it out. The walls you built for protection? God’s healing has to make it safe to lower them. The pride that blocked reception? Humility has to break it. The bitterness that contaminated the soil? Forgiveness has to cleanse it. The unprocessed disappointment that programmed you for failure? Faith has to reprogram you for multiplication.

This isn’t something you can fix with a strategy. This is something you have to bring to the Healer.

James 5:16: “Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” Notice the formula: confession, prayer, community—then healing. You can’t heal in isolation. You can’t restore your capacity while keeping your walls up. You can’t heal your multiplier while protecting yourself from the very vulnerability that makes multiplication possible.

You have to name what broke it. You have to bring it to God. You have to let Him heal it. Believe for it.

The multiplication question: what’s broken inside you that’s preventing multiplication? Name it. Bring it to God. Let Him heal it. Because you can connect perfectly and sow strategically, but if your multiplier is broken, nothing will reproduce.

Heal your multiplier.

THE THREE KEYS

Connect with the right people, intentionally and consistently.

Sow something life-giving into every connection.

Heal your multiplier so what you sow actually reproduces.

Miss any one of these three and multiplication stalls. Master all three, and multiplication becomes inevitable.

Abraham and Sarah modeled it. You can replicate it. Connect. Sow. Heal your multiplier. That’s how you move from theology to multiplication.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

God’s first command wasn’t moral—it was mathematical. Be fruitful.

Multiply. Fill. Before the Ten Commandments, before “love your

neighbor,” God said multiply. Your biology reveals His theology: you

started as one cell that multiplied into trillions. Remember, your

bone marrow produces 2.5 million red blood cells every second. Without

multiplication, life stops. It’s multiply or die—not just for your

organization, for your body. The Genesis Code isn’t a strategy.

It’s the fabric of creation itself.

The Shift:

Multiplication requires three keys: Connect with the right people

intentionally and consistently. Sow something life-giving into every

connection. Heal your multiplier so what you sow actually reproduces.

Abraham and Sarah waited twenty-five years because Sarah’s womb—her

multiplier—was broken. You can connect perfectly and sow

strategically, but if your multiplier is broken by fear, pride,

bitterness, or unprocessed disappointment, nothing will reproduce.

Name what broke it. Bring it to God. Let Him heal it. Then watch

multiplication become inevitable.

The Audit:

What’s broken inside you that’s preventing multiplication? The

negative words embedded in your spirit? The fear that locked down your

ability to receive? The walls you built for protection? The pride that

blocked reception? The bitterness that contaminated the soil? The

unprocessed disappointment that programmed you for failure? You can’t

fix this with a strategy. Confession. Prayer. Community. Then healing.

You can’t heal in isolation. Name it. Bring it to God. Let Him heal

it. Connect. Sow. Heal your multiplier. That’s how you move from

theology to multiplication.

Chapter 5

Jacob’s Sticks

HOW TO MULTIPLY WHEN YOU HAVE NOTHING

Jacob had no land. No inheritance. No capital. Just sticks.

And a secret most preachers skip because it’s weird and agricultural. But it contains many secrets to multiplication.

Here’s the setup. Jacob is working for his uncle Laban, and Laban is a cheat. He keeps changing Jacob’s wages, moving the goalposts, taking advantage. But Jacob can’t leave. He has no resources. No options. He’s stuck.

Sound familiar?

You’re trapped in a situation you can’t control. Working for someone who doesn’t value you. Building something that isn’t yours. And you can’t see a way out.

Most people in that situation do one of two things. They complain. Or they quit.

Jacob did neither.

He multiplied.

THE DEAL

In Genesis 30:32, Jacob makes a proposal to Laban: “Let me go through

all your flocks today and remove from them every speckled or spotted

sheep, every dark-colored lamb and every spotted or speckled goat.

They will be my wages.”

Laban thinks this is hilarious. The speckled and spotted sheep? The unusual ones? The genetic anomalies? That’s all Jacob wants?

Laban agrees immediately. Because he thinks he’s getting a bargain.

But Jacob knew something Laban didn’t. He knew how to multiply what he didn’t have.

Jacob’s miracle came from God, but his strategy revealed a timeless truth: what you consistently keep before your eyes will eventually manifest in your harvest.

THE STRATEGY

Here’s what Jacob did. He took branches from poplar, almond, and plane

trees. Peeled them so white stripes showed through. Then placed them

in the watering troughs.

Now pay attention to this detail. Because most people miss it.

Genesis 30:41 says, “Whenever the stronger females were in heat, Jacob would place the branches in the troughs in front of the

animals so they would mate near the branches.” Read that again.

What you consistently see shapes what you produce.

He didn’t put sticks in front of every sheep. He only put sticks in front of sheep in heat. The fertile ones. The stronger ones. The ones with reproductive capacity.

This is critical.

Jacob didn’t waste his sticks on weak sheep. He didn’t waste his energy on sheep that couldn’t reproduce. He strategically invested his limited resources in the sheep that could multiply.

And what happened? The sheep saw the striped sticks constantly, and they produced striped offspring. Environmental transformation. What you consistently see shapes what you produce.

THE WATERING THROUGH PRINCIPLE

Why did Jacob put the sticks in the watering trough?

Because that’s where the sheep came every day. Not once a year at the annual vision meeting. Not once a month at the leadership retreat. Every single day.

The watering trough was the place of daily encounter, daily exposure, daily influence. And here’s what Jacob understood that most leaders don’t: vision isn’t transferred in a moment. It’s transferred through repeated exposure.

You don’t change culture with one speech. You change culture with constant, repeated, strategic exposure to the future you’re building. One staff meeting doesn’t create multiplication culture. One sermon doesn’t create multiplication thinking. One training session doesn’t produce multiplication leaders.

But daily exposure? Constant encounter? Repeated vision?

That changes DNA.

The sheep didn’t try to produce striped offspring. They just saw striped sticks constantly, and their offspring reflected what they saw. Your team won’t try to multiply. They’ll see multiplication constantly, and their leadership will reflect what they see. That’s environmental transformation. And it only works if the vision is visible, constant, and in front of the right people.

THE THREE REQUIREMENTS

If you want to multiply like Jacob, your vision must be three things.

First, visible. Not hidden in your head. Not locked in a strategic plan nobody reads. Not buried in the org chart. Written on the walls. Repeated in meetings. Built into your language. Woven into your culture. If your team can’t see the vision, they can’t reproduce it.

Second, constant. Not occasional. Not whenever you feel like it. Not at the annual retreat. Every meeting. Every email. Every interaction. The vision is present. Because one exposure creates awareness. Repeated exposure creates transformation.

Third, strategic. This is where most leaders fail. They try to cast vision to everyone. Jacob didn’t. He only put sticks in front of sheep in heat. The fertile ones. The ones with reproductive capacity. He didn’t waste his sticks on weak sheep. He didn’t waste his energy on sheep that couldn’t reproduce.

And neither should you. Your vision doesn’t need to be in front of everyone. It needs to be in front of the right people. The ones who are hungry. The ones who are ready. The ones who can multiply.

THE MULTIPLICATION RESULTS

Here’s what happened. Genesis 30:43 explains, “In this way the man

grew exceedingly prosperous and came to own large flocks, and female

and male servants, and camels and donkeys.”

Jacob walked into Laban’s house with nothing. He walked out with wealth. Not because he had resources. Because he understood multiplication.

He took what little he had—sticks from trees—and used them strategically. He identified the sheep with reproductive capacity.

He created an environment of constant exposure. And he watched

multiplication happen.

From nothing to abundance. From trapped to free. From servant to owner.

That’s what multiplication does. It doesn’t require you to have everything. It requires you to use what you have strategically.

Most leaders are waiting for more resources before they start multiplying. More money. More people. More time. More support.

Jacob didn’t wait.

He took sticks. And he multiplied.

You don’t need more resources. You need a multiplication strategy. You don’t need a bigger budget. You need to identify who’s in heat. You don’t need a better location. You need a visible, constant vision in front of the right people.

Jacob didn’t waste his sticks on weak sheep. Neither should you.

THE LEADER I ALMOST MISSED

I need to tell you about Marcus.

He never demanded attention. Never positioned himself for the spotlight. He just showed up early, stayed late, and asked questions nobody else asked.

For months, I barely noticed him. I was too busy pouring into the squeaky wheels—the ones who complained, the ones who needed constant encouragement, the ones who talked big but delivered small.

Then one day, I watched Marcus handle a crisis. A volunteer team fell apart an hour before a major event. While others panicked, Marcus quietly reorganized the whole operation. No drama. No credit-seeking. Just execution.

That’s when it hit me: *I had been wasting my sticks on the wrong

sheep.*

Marcus was in heat. He’d been in heat for months. Ready to multiply. Ready to lead. Ready to reproduce everything I’d been trying to instill. And I almost missed him because I was too distracted by the cold ones.

The moment I redirected my investment—put my sticks in his watering trough—everything changed. Within a year, Marcus was leading his own team. Within two years, he was developing leaders who developed leaders. That’s what happens when you find the ones in heat.

THE H.E.A.T. SCORECARD: HOW TO SPOT PEOPLE READY TO MULTIPLY

Jacob didn’t guess. He watched the sheep. He looked for the ones who

were in heat. The stronger females. The ones with reproductive

capacity.

And you need to do the same thing with your team.

Four markers identify someone ready to multiply. When all four are present, you’ve found someone worth your deepest investment.

H—HUNGRY

They’re not satisfied. They’re starving.

Hungry people don’t need to be convinced. They’re already leaning in, already asking questions, already dissatisfied with where they are. They ask for more responsibility, more challenge, more opportunity. They stay after the meeting ends, after everyone else leaves, after the official time is over. They consume without being told—books, podcasts, training. They’re feeding themselves. They’re frustrated with the status quo but not complaining. Burning. There’s a difference.

And they seek you out. You don’t have to chase them. They’re chasing growth.

The test question: When did they last ask you for something that would stretch them? If you can’t remember, they’re not hungry enough.

Warning: Hungry for position is not the same as hungry for growth. Position-hunters want the title. Growth-hunters want the transformation. Learn to spot the difference.

E—EFFECTIVE

They finish what they start.

Ideas are cheap. Execution is rare. Effective people don’t just dream—they deliver. They don’t just plan—they produce. They don’t just talk about what they’re going to do—they show you what they’ve done.

They have a track record. Look at their history. Did they finish? Did they follow through? They report without being asked. Updates come to you; you don’t have to chase. They solve problems without escalating. They figure it out. They don’t dump it back on your desk. They meet deadlines—not most of them, all of them. And they do before they’re told. Initiative is their default setting.

The test question: What have they completed in the last ninety days that you didn’t assign? If the answer is nothing, they’re not effective.

The simple test: Give them a small assignment with a clear deadline. Don’t remind them. Don’t follow up. See what happens. Effective people deliver. No excuses. No extensions. Done. Non-effective people have stories, reasons, explanations. One test. One assignment. You’ll know.

A—ADAPTABLE

They adjust without breaking.

Multiplication requires constant change—new contexts, new challenges, new methods, new people. Rigid people can’t multiply. They can only replicate what they’ve always done in the environment they’ve always known. Adaptable people thrive in chaos. They flex. They learn. They pivot.

They respond to feedback without getting defensive or wounded. They adjust. They learn from failure—one mistake teaches them, and they don’t repeat it. They function in multiple environments, not just their comfort zone. They embrace new methods. They’re not married to how it’s always been done. And they stay stable in uncertainty. When everything’s changing, they’re not panicking.

They’re solving.

The test question: How did they respond the last time you corrected them? Did they defend? Or did they adjust? Defenders are not adaptable. They’re protecting. And protection kills multiplication.

The simple test: Change something they’re responsible for without warning. Move the deadline. Shift the scope. Add a constraint. Watch their response. Adaptable people recalibrate and execute.

Rigid people complain and stall.

T—TRANSFERABLE

They can give away what they’ve received.

This is the multiplication marker. Some people are sponges. They absorb everything. They grow personally. But nothing comes back out. Transferable people are fountains. What goes in comes out—often better than it went in.

They’re already teaching others, without title, without permission. They can’t help it. Others seek them out for help, advice, guidance. They can explain what they know—not just do it, but articulate it, break it down, make it simple. They celebrate others’ success genuinely, not threatened but thrilled. And they’re building their own people, even informally, even accidentally. They’re developing someone.

The test question: Who are they already pouring into without being asked? If there’s no one, they’re a sponge. Sponges don’t multiply.

The simple test: Ask them to teach something they’ve learned to someone else. Then watch the other person. Did they get it? Can they do it now? If yes, you’ve found a transferable leader. If no, they might be skilled—but they can’t multiply.

THE H.E.A.T. SCORING SYSTEM

Rate each potential leader 1-5 on each marker.

16-20: IN HEAT—INVEST HEAVILY

This person is ready to multiply now. Don’t wait. Don’t delay. Put your best sticks in front of them. Pour in your deepest investment. Give them everything you’ve got. They’re in heat. This is the moment. Miss this window, and you might miss it forever.

12-15: WARMING UP—DEVELOP INTENTIONALLY

They’re getting close. There’s potential. But something’s not fully ready. Identify which marker is lowest. Focus your development there. Low H? Create hunger through exposure to a bigger vision. Low E? Give small assignments and build their execution muscle. Low A? Put them in unfamiliar situations and coach through it. Low T? Ask them to teach something. Start the transfer habit. They’re not ready for your deepest investment yet. But they’re worth developing toward it.

8-11: LUKEWARM—WATCH AND WAIT

They’re not ready. Maybe not willing. Maybe not able. Maybe just not yet. Don’t pour your best energy here. It’s not the season. Keep them in general development. Watch for change. But don’t pretend they’re ready when they’re not.

Below 8: COLD—DON’T WASTE YOUR STICKS

THE STEWARDSHIP OF HUNGER

I can hear some of you right now. Your pastor’s heart is breaking: Ashley, isn’t the shepherd supposed to leave the ninety-nine to find the one? Shouldn’t I care for the cold sheep?

Yes. We love the lost. We serve the hurting. We carry the weak.

But we do not build with them.

There is a difference between ministry and multiplication. You minister to the cold sheep. You multiply through the hungry ones.

Here is the hard truth I had to learn: Every hour you spend trying to force a “cold” leader to lead is an hour you stole from a “hungry” leader who was waiting for you to pour into them. To neglect the hungry because you are too busy propping up the complacent is not kindness. It is poor stewardship.

Jesus fed the 5,000 (Matthew 14:13-21; Mark 6:30-44; Luke 9:10-17; John 6:1-14). That was ministry. But He trained the twelve. That was multiplication. If He had spent all His time trying to train the 5,000, we wouldn’t have a church today.

Love and provide ministry to everyone. But give your leadership baton to the ones in H.E.A.T.

YOUR ASSIGNMENT

Don’t just read this and move on. Do something this week.

Write down the names of three to five people in your world.

Score each one on the H.E.A.T. test:

H—Hungry: __/5

E—Effective: __/5

A—Adaptable: __/5

T—Transferable: __/5

TOTAL: __/20

Whoever scores highest—that’s where your deepest investment goes. Not the squeakiest wheel. Not the longest tenure. Not the most available. The ones in H.E.A.T. That’s multiplication math.

THE BOTTOM LINE

Jacob didn’t waste his sticks on sheep that couldn’t reproduce.

Don’t waste yours.

Find the ones in H.E.A.T. Put your vision in their watering troughs. And watch the multiplication begin.

*”Whenever the stronger females were in heat, Jacob would place the

branches in the troughs in front of the animals so they would mate

near the branches.”*

—Genesis 30:41

MULTIPLY OR DIE.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Jacob had no land, no inheritance, no capital—just sticks. And a

secret: he only put those sticks in front of sheep in heat. The

fertile ones. The stronger ones. The ones with reproductive capacity.

He didn’t waste sticks on weak sheep. He strategically invested his

limited resources in the sheep that could multiply. Environmental

transformation: what you consistently see shapes what you produce. The

watering trough was the place of daily encounter, daily exposure,

daily influence. Not once a year. Every day. That’s the multiplication

secret.

The Shift:

Find the ones in H.E.A.T. Hungry—always learning, never satisfied.

Effective—delivering results consistently. Adaptable, adjusting to

new situations. Transferable—passing it on to others. Stop trying to

warm up cold sheep. Start focusing on the ones already burning. Don’t

waste time on people who won’t multiply. That’s not your problem to

fix. Your problem is to find the ones in heat and pour everything into

them. Put your vision in their watering troughs every single day.

The Audit:

Write down the names of three to five people in your world right now.

Score each one on the H.E.A.T. test: H—Hungry: /5, E—Effective:

/5, A—Adaptable: /5, T—Transferable: /5. Total: __/20. Whoever

scores highest—that’s where your deepest investment goes. Not the

squeakiest wheel. Not the longest tenure. Not the most available. The

ones in H.E.A.T. That’s multiplication math. Jacob didn’t waste his

sticks on sheep that couldn’t reproduce. Don’t waste yours.

Chapter 6

The Multiplication Math

WHAT A DEAD PREACHER

TAUGHT ME ABOUT

OUTLASTING MY OWN LEGACY

The year is 1740.

George Whitefield stands on a platform in the open air. Thirty thousand people gather to hear him speak. Benjamin Franklin, standing in the crowd, conducts an experiment and calculates that Whitefield’s voice can reach that many people clearly.

The newspapers call him “the marvel of the age.”

He’s the most famous man in the English-speaking world. More famous than kings. More famous than generals. More famous than anyone. He crosses the Atlantic seven times—in the 1700s, when most people never left their village.

Over his lifetime, he preaches 18,000 sermons to an estimated ten million people.

Ben Franklin says his voice is like “excellent music”—perfect pitch, perfect tone, perfect delivery. Historians later write: he’s “perhaps the greatest evangelical preacher the world has ever seen.” He influences Patrick Henry, George Washington, Jonathan Edwards.

He’s not just a preacher. He’s a phenomenon.

The first transatlantic celebrity in history.

And today? Almost nobody knows his name.

Why?

Because he built a crowd. Not a movement.

THE ROPE OF SAND

Near the end of his life, Whitefield met an old friend named John

Pool. Pool had just come from working with John Wesley, Whitefield’s

contemporary and fellow revivalist.

Whitefield asked about Wesley’s work.

And then Whitefield said something devastating. Something that should be carved into the wall of every megachurch in America: “My brother Wesley acted wisely. The souls that were awakened under his ministry he joined in societies, and thus preserved the fruit of his labor. This I neglected, and my people are a rope of sand.”¹A rope of sand.

Read that again.

The greatest preacher of his generation. Eighteen thousand sermons. Ten million people. And he calls his legacy a rope of sand.

A rope that looks impressive but has no strength, no cohesion, no lasting power. You can’t pull anything with a rope of sand. You can’t lift anything with a rope of sand. You can’t build anything with a rope of sand. It looks like a rope. But it’s useless.

Whitefield saw his error. But it was too late. His people, long unused to discipline and development, wouldn’t come under it. So when Whitefield died, his movement died with him.

Adam Clark, an early Methodist historian, wrote: “The fruit of Mr. Whitefield died with himself.”²

Today there are zero Whitefieldian societies. Zero churches bearing his name. Zero movements carrying his legacy. The celebrity died. And the crowd disappeared.

Eighteen thousand sermons. Ten million people. Zero multiplication rate.

THE AVERAGE PREACHER WHO CHANGED THE WORLD

So who was John Wesley? The man Whitefield mentioned. The man who

“acted wisely.”

Here’s what everyone agreed on: Wesley was not as good a preacher as Whitefield. Not even close. Whitefield had the voice, the stage presence, the dramatic flair. Wesley was solid, competent, effective. But nobody called him the greatest preacher of his generation.

Whitefield had what looked like a great individual total. But Wesley had an excellent multiplication rate. Whitefield, it turns out, was not multiplying anything. He was only drawing crowds. When the crowds dispersed, nothing was left. There was no multiplication.

Wesley understood something Whitefield didn’t: preaching alone doesn’t create multiplication. Systems create multiplication.

Evangelism without discipleship is spiritual malpractice.

So while Whitefield traveled and preached to massive crowds, Wesley built structure.

He created what he called “societies”—groups of 50-300 people who met for teaching and worship. Then he broke those societies into “class meetings”—groups of twelve people who met weekly and asked each other: “How goes it with your soul?” Attendance wasn’t optional. You got a ticket to the class meeting. Miss too many? You lost your ticket. Then he created “bands”—groups of three to four people of the same gender and marital status who met for confession and accountability. Then he established “circuit riders”—traveling preachers on two-year rotations who would spread the movement. Then he empowered lay leaders—men and women who could lead without ordination. Then he set up annual conferences for coordination, discipline, and doctrine.

It wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t the kind of thing that gets you called “the marvel of the age.” But it multiplied.

Wesley said it himself: “Preaching like an Apostle, without joining together those that are awakened and training them up in the ways of God, is only begetting children for the murderer.”³

Translation: Evangelism without discipleship is spiritual abortion. Preaching without systems is entertainment. Crowds without structure are a rope of sand.

THE MULTIPLICATION SCORECARD

Here’s the math.

Whitefield: Starting point—one preacher. Ending point—zero movement. 18,000 sermons delivered. 10,000,000 people reached.

Multiplication rate: 0 percent. Legacy: Forgotten.

Wesley: Starting point—one preacher. Ending point—tens of millions of Methodists worldwide. Fewer sermons delivered. Smaller crowds reached. Multiplication rate: infinite. Legacy: Still multiplying 250+ years later.

Same starting point. Opposite results.

One built a crowd. The other built a movement. One measured success by total. The other measured success by rate. One is forgotten. The other is everywhere.

Adam Clark wrote: “The fruit of Mr. Whitefield died with himself. Mr. Wesley’s fruit remains, grows, increases, and multiplies exceedingly.”⁴

Another historian said it this way: “Wherever Whitefield went, he left an overwhelming impression of impassioned eloquence. Wherever Wesley went, he left a company of men and women closely knit together in a common life.”⁵

Impassioned eloquence versus common life. Impressive sermons versus multiplication systems. Total output versus percentage return.

Now recall the parable of the talents from Matthew 25. Five talents became ten. Two talents became four. Identical praise—because both achieved the same multiplication rate. God didn’t compare them to each other. He measured each against their own starting point. Did you multiply what you were given? That’s the only question that matters.

Whitefield might argue he didn’t “bury” his talent. He preached to millions. But here’s what he missed: multiplication isn’t about what you accomplish. It’s about what outlives you. His mistake was never teaming up with other members of the body. He could have won souls while other gifted leaders built the movement—doing the discipleship, setting up the local churches, creating the systems. But he missed that critical part of the equation.

The result? He died with everything locked inside him.

MY AGE FORTY-TWO REVELATION

Fast forward 250 years.

I’m growing up in church culture. And the people everyone admired? The conference preachers. The powerful speakers. The prophets. Anyone who could command a stage. The dramatic guy who could hold a crowd for an hour. That was what everyone looked up to. That was success.

But during that same time, there was a church growing like crazy. Multiple campuses. Exploding growth. Real multiplication.

And the pastor? A good preacher. But not a great preacher. Solid.

Competent. Effective.

Sound familiar?

Here’s what blew my mind: this guy didn’t mind repeating his messages. I’d hear him preach the same sermon I’d heard three months ago at another conference. Growing up, I’d been taught to never repeat anything. That wouldn’t be a good thing. Fresh content. New insights. Different every time.

But this guy didn’t care. He’d preach the same message. Again. And again.

And despite his average preaching and repeated content, the church grew. And grew. And grew.

I was forty-two when it hit me. The realization that changed everything.

Preaching is the catering department.

People need feeding. That’s important. But it’s just the bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Food keeps you alive. Training and development are the focus.

This pastor understood what Whitefield didn’t. He had a massive training college. Churning out soldier-type leaders. Effective multipliers. People who could build. He wasn’t focused on being the best preacher. He was focused on developing the best leaders. He wasn’t building a crowd. He was building a system.

And the system multiplied.

BUILDING THE MULTIPLICATION ENGINE

So I made a decision.

I was going to build a development system. Not just preach better sermons. Not just gather bigger crowds. I was going to create a multiplication engine that would outlast me.

Here’s what I had: One campus. Three thousand people.

Here’s what I built: A team.

My son Mark became the catalyst. At twenty, he developed an entire new generation of leaders. Josh—who grew up in our church and came back to be the campus pastor at Paradise and then the lead pastor of Australia—became the Joseph figure. He created the systems to manage the people Mark had initially developed. My wife Jane and I had developed people, too, but we provided the overall structure and vision.

Together, we transformed an entire generation’s thinking from short-term to long-term. We weren’t just training people to do tasks. We were developing multipliers. Leaders who could lead leaders who could lead leaders.

The result?

One campus became twenty-one campuses. Three thousand people became 19,000 people.

Here’s my scorecard: Starting point—one campus, 3,000 people. Current state—twenty-one campuses, 19,000 people. Campus multiplication: 2,100 percent (21X). People multiplication: 600 percent (6X). Leader development: 100 percent internal.

Same principle as Wesley. Build the system, not just the sermon. Develop the leaders, not just the listeners. Create multiplication, not just addition.

And the math proves it works.

JESUS: THE ULTIMATE MULTIPLICATION MODEL

Want to see the multiplication principle in action? Look at Jesus.

Twelve men. Three years of investment. That’s it.

No advertising budget. No social media. No marketing campaign. No global infrastructure. Just twelve disciples. Intentional development. Strategic multiplication.

Two thousand years later? Over two billion followers.

From twelve to 2,000,000,000.

That’s not addition. That’s multiplication.

And it didn’t happen because Jesus tried to reach everyone. It happened because He invested deeply in a few. He didn’t build a crowd. He built multipliers. He didn’t create fans. He developed leaders who would develop leaders who would develop leaders.

And the multiplication is still going.

Every Sunday, millions gather in His name. Not because Jesus personally reached them, but because He multiplied through twelve men who multiplied through others who multiplied through others.

That’s the power of multiplication thinking. You’re not trying to reach everyone. You’re developing the few who will reach the many. You’re not building a crowd. You’re building a multiplication engine.

And that’s exactly what the next chapter will show you how to do—the actual structure for building your twelve tribes.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Five talents became ten. Two talents became four. Identical praise—

because God measures multiplication rate, not total output. He

didn’t compare them to each other. He measured each against their own

starting point. Whitefield had impressive totals but zero

multiplication rate. Wesley had modest totals but infinite

multiplication rate. Your assignment isn’t to reach the most people.

It’s to multiply at the highest rate.

The Shift:

Preaching is the catering department. Systems create multiplication.

Wesley built societies, class meetings, bands, circuit riders, lay

leaders, and annual conferences. It wasn’t sexy. But it multiplied.

The pastor I observed at age forty-two understood the same thing— he

built a training college, not just a stage presence. The question

isn’t how good your sermons are. The question is: what system are you

building?

The Audit:

1) Are you measuring total or rate?

2) Are you comparing yourself to others or multiplying what you were given?

3) What system are you building that will outlive you?

4) Who are you developing as multipliers—leaders who lead leaders who lead leaders?

5) If you disappeared tomorrow, would the multiplication continue or die with you?

6) Are you the bottleneck or the builder?

7) What would Wesley build if he had your resources?

Chapter 7

The Twelve Tribes

THE ARCHITECTURE

GOD DESIGNED TO

OUTLAST ANY LEADER

Adam Neumann built a $47 billion empire called WeWork. Then

watched it collapse to zero.

Why?

Because he built a castle. And castles can’t survive without kings.

Neumann centralized everything around himself. His vision. His decisions. His presence. He built a monument to his own indispensability.

The tower got taller. The walls got thicker. The empire expanded.

Until the king left. And the castle collapsed.

WeWork went from $47 billion to bankruptcy in months. Not because the idea failed. Because the architecture failed.

Neumann built for glory. Not generations. He built a monument.

Not a movement.

There are two ways to build.

Here’s the trap most leaders fall into:

Castle High looks faster. Kingdom Wide is faster.

Castle High feels powerful. Kingdom Wide is powerful. The

question: which are you building?

LITTLE KING SYNDROME

It’s not a new problem. It’s ancient.

In 1 Samuel 8, Israel comes to Samuel with a demand: “Give us a king” (v. 5).

Samuel asks why.

Their answer reveals everything: “So the king can fight our battles for us” (v. 20, author paraphrase).

They didn’t want a leader to equip them to fight. They wanted someone to fight for them. They wanted a hero to do what they should learn to do themselves.

God warned them, “Here’s what your king will do. He’ll take your sons. He’ll take your daughters. He’ll take your fields” (vv. 11-14, author paraphrase).

But they insisted, “We want a king like all the other nations” (vv. 19-20, author paraphrase).

God let them have it. And it destroyed them exactly the way He said it would.

Little King Syndrome. The addiction to centralized leadership. The fantasy that one gifted person can do for us what we should learn to do ourselves.

It killed Israel. It killed WeWork. And it’s killing your organization right now.

THE GENERATIONAL SHIFT

My son Mark was fifteen years old when God spoke to him.

Two words: World Church.

He told me what he’d heard. It got my attention, but I wasn’t sure whether these were teenage convictions or God’s voice.

Twenty-two years later, he hasn’t wavered.

Now at thirty-seven, Mark has influenced a generation of youth leaders into senior leadership at Futures Church. These extraordinary leaders—many of whom started as teenagers—are now campus leaders, and significant architects and voices across multiple continents.

When Mark told me what God had told him, it resonated. My own journey and analysis of the church had concluded that despite the global church being massive, we were thinking too small, impacting even less, building too locally, and dying too quickly.

First, we had to understand what was killing multiplication everywhere we looked.

THE CULTURAL MOMENT

The early 2000s brought a challenge.

Many of our leaders from the previous generation put having your own church as the pinnacle of leadership. They wanted to be the senior pastor. Build their church. Have their platform.

That was close to the peak of the celebrity pastor syndrome. The era of the individual leader building their own empire. The fifty-year period when “my church” mattered more than “the church.”

But at the same time, a shift was happening in our young leaders.

They no longer wanted to go out solo and do their own thing. Because of Mark and his generation, coupled with the leading of the Holy Spirit and Jane’s and my leadership, our emerging leaders wanted to be part of something bigger than themselves.

We were moving toward collaboration while the culture was moving toward isolation. We were building for multiplication while others were building for celebrity.

And God was about to show us the blueprint.

If you centralize too much, you get control but lose speed.

Most leaders think they must choose: Strong leadership or agile execution. Centralized control or distributed authority. One hub or many locations.

But that’s a false choice.

What if you could be both?

Strong and agile. Centralized DNA and distributed execution.

One vision and many leaders.

That’s what the Twelve Tribes Model creates.

It’s not governance. It’s the architecture of multiplication.

Here’s the problem most organizations face: if you centralize too much, you get control but lose speed. Every decision requires permission. Every initiative waits for approval. Leaders can’t lead because they’re waiting on the center to green-light everything.

If you decentralize too much, you get speed but lose alignment. Everyone does their own thing. The DNA gets diluted. The mission gets fragmented. You end up with fifty different expressions of the same name with no coherent identity.

The Twelve Tribes Model solves both problems.

THE FREEDOM MATRIX

Think of a matrix. Two axes.

Vertical Axis: Hub to Campuses

“The hub provides infrastructure that would take years and millions of dollars for each campus to build independently: accounting systems, legal structure... It also ensures we remain aligned with the theological and ethical standards of our wider denominational family, providing a layer of safety for every campus pastor. This is the vertical stability that frees campuses...”

Horizontal Axis: Campus to Campus

This is what provides speed.

Each hub and then down to campus level has freedom to: hire staff based on local need and cultural fit, design services for their specific community and context, launch ministries that address local challenges, make day-to-day operational decisions without waiting for permission, build relationships with local leaders, schools, and businesses, adapt communication style to their demographic, set service times that work for their city, and create programming that fits their facility and capacity.

This is the horizontal speed that lets campuses move fast without bureaucratic delay.

The Paradigm Shift:

Most organizations are strong vertically (lots of control from the top) and weak horizontally (slow execution at the bottom).

The Twelve Tribes Model is strong vertically (stability and support from the hub) and strong horizontally (speed and agility at the campus).

It’s not one or the other. It’s both.

You get the strength of centralized infrastructure with the agility of distributed authority.

I need to make a critical distinction here.

When I talk about “freedom” and “distributed authority,” I am not talking about a flat democracy where everyone gets a vote. And I am definitely not talking about anarchy.

If you hand the keys to the entire kingdom to a twenty-four-year-old campus pastor who is still figuring out how to lead a staff meeting, you are not empowering them. You are setting them up to fail.

We operate on a specific system of command. Do not confuse the ranks.

Tier 1: The Commodore (The Tribe Leader) This is Distributed

Authority.

In a navy, a commodore doesn’t just command a ship; they command a squadron. They govern a whole region of the fleet.

These are the leaders I trust to leave the room. They have the authority to set budgets for their tribe, plant new campuses, and hire key staff.

But make no mistake: distributed authority is not total sovereignty.

The Commodore commands the squadron, but they are constantly signaling the Admiral.

We talk constantly. We discuss strategy. We align on the direction. They have the freedom to steer, but not the freedom to change the destination. They carry the DNA so deeply that they can steer their squadron without me on the bridge—but they never cut the comms to the flagship.

Tier 2: The Captain (The Campus Pastor) This is Delegated

Authority.

A Captain has total freedom on their own ship, but they follow the coordinates of the squadron.

They have the freedom to execute, but not to govern the tribe.

They don’t decide if we value excellence; they decide how to make excellence happen on their specific deck. They don’t rewrite the playbook; they run the plays to win the game.

Here are the rules: Governance is for the Commodore. Execution is for the Captain.

If you give governance authority to a Captain who hasn’t been tested, you don’t get multiplication. You get division. You get warlords who take your resources and build their own little kingdoms.

I test my Commodores for years—sometimes decades—before I hand them the keys to a region. But once I do, I let them lead.

Don’t hand the deed to the building to someone who should just be holding the keys to the front door.

THE DIVINE ARCHITECTURE OF TWELVE

Why twelve?

Not ten. Ten is a nice round number. We have ten fingers. We use base-ten math.

Not seven. Seven is the number of completion. The number of rest. The number of Sabbath.

But when God decides to build a government, He doesn’t choose ten. He doesn’t choose seven.

He chooses twelve.

For thirty years, I missed this. I thought twelve was symbolic.

Poetic. Arbitrary.

I was wrong.

And if you want to hold the harvest

God is sending, you cannot ignore the container God designed.

It was during a late-night study through Revelation that I finally saw it. I had read the passage about the New Jerusalem a hundred times, but that night the twelves leaped off the page. Twelve gates. Twelve foundations. Twelve thousand stadia. I grabbed my concordance and started tracing the number backwards through Scripture. The pattern was everywhere. Once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.

Twelve is the number of divine administration. It is the number of governance. It is the number of structural capacity.

And if you want to hold the harvest God is sending, you cannot ignore the container God designed.

God’s governance structure didn’t start in the New Testament. It started with a family.

Jacob had twelve sons. Not eleven. Not thirteen. Twelve (Genesis 35:22-26).

Reuben. Simeon. Levi. Judah. Dan. Naphtali. Gad. Asher. Issachar. Zebulun. Joseph. Benjamin.

From these twelve came the twelve tribes of Israel (Genesis 49). And from these twelve tribes came an entire nation structured around distributed governance (Numbers 2; Numbers 26; Exodus 18:13-26; Deuteronomy 1:9-18).

This was the multiplication explosion.

One family became twelve tribes. Twelve tribes became a nation. A nation became a kingdom.

Each tribe had its own territory, leaders, identity, and responsibility.

But they were one nation. One people. One covenant.

Unity through diversity. Strength through distribution.

*They marched together, they fought together, but they lived

separately.* This wasn’t organizational theory. This was divine

architecture.

SOLOMON’S SECRET:

PROSPERITY REQUIRES STRUCTURE

The Bible tells us King Solomon was the wisest and wealthiest man who

ever lived.

We love to preach about his wisdom. We love to preach about the Queen of Sheba marveling at his wealth (1 Kings 10:1-13; 2 Chronicles 9:1-12).

But we rarely preach about how he managed it.

He didn’t do it alone. And he didn’t do it with a random group of helpers.

First Kings 4:7 gives us the blueprint: “Solomon had twelve district governors over all Israel, who supplied provisions for the king and the royal household. Each one had to provide supplies for one month in the year.” Do not miss this.

The most prosperous kingdom in the history of Israel was sustained by a structure of twelve.

Solomon divided the burden. He distributed the responsibility. He created a system where the weight of the kingdom didn’t crush the king.

Because he had twelve governors, the kingdom could cycle through the year—twelve months, twelve leaders—with no one burning out and no resource running dry.

Structure created sustainability. Sustainability created prosperity.

Solomon understood what most modern leaders miss: abundance without architecture creates collapse. Blessing without structure creates burnout.

You can have all the wisdom in the world. You can have all the wealth in the world. But if you don’t have the structure to steward it—you will lose it.

THE JESUS ADMINISTRATION

When Jesus arrived to launch the greatest movement in history, He had

thousands of followers.

He could have chosen three. A small executive team. He could have chosen seventy. A large advisory council. But when it came time to delegate authority—to set up the government of the new covenant—He appointed twelve: “He appointed twelve that they might be with him and that he might send them out to preach and to have authority” (Mark 3:14-15).

This wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t nostalgia for the Old Testament. This was intentional administration.

Jesus was signaling to the world: New Israel. New covenant. Same divine architecture.

Just as there were twelve tribes of Israel in the Old Testament, there would be twelve apostles in the New.

He was establishing an administration capable of governing the global harvest that was coming.

And notice the pattern: Jacob’s twelve sons became the foundation of a nation. Solomon’s twelve governors sustained an empire.

Jesus’s twelve apostles launched a movement that changed the world.

Same number. Same structure. Same divine principle.

Some people think structure is a business idea. They think being “Spirit-led” means formless. Fluid. Unorganized. They think heaven is a misty, structureless place where we float on clouds.

God didn’t just use twelve for

His people. He wired twelve into the fabric of creation itself.

Read the end of the Book.

Revelation 21 describes the New Jerusalem. The eternal city. The ultimate picture of God’s perfection.

And it is hyper-structured around the number twelve.

It has twelve gates. It has twelve foundations. The city measures 12,000 stadia. The wall is 144 cubits thick—that’s twelve times twelve. The gates are named after the twelve tribes of Israel. The foundations are named after the twelve apostles.

God didn’t discard the structure of twelve for eternity. He doubled down on it.

Now look at the throne room in Revelation 4. Surrounding the throne are twenty-four elders.

Who are they?

Theologians believe the twenty-four represents the fusion of the twelve Patriarchs of Israel and the twelve Apostles of the Lamb. Old Testament and New Testament. Old covenant and new covenant.

United in governance around the throne of God.

12 + 12 = 24.

The structure of twelve wasn’t temporary. It wasn’t cultural. It wasn’t just for the Jews.

It is eternal.

Here’s what most people miss.

God didn’t just use twelve for His people. He wired twelve into the fabric of creation itself.

Genesis 1:14-18 tells us God set the lights in the heavens to govern day and night, to mark seasons and years.

And what did He create?

Twelve months in a year. Twelve hours in a day. Twelve hours in a night.

Time itself runs on the architecture of twelve.

Every year you live through twelve cycles. Every day you move through twelve hours of light. Every night you rest through twelve hours of darkness.

The number twelve reflects the approximate harmony between Earth’s orbit and the moon’s cycles—a structure that organizes time itself.

It is a cycle. It is a system. It is divine order.

EZEKIEL’S VISION: THE BLUEPRINT GIVEN AGAIN

Before Revelation described the New Jerusalem, God gave

Ezekiel a vision.

Ezekiel 48:30-35 describes the restored city of God:

Twelve gates. Three on each side. Named after the twelve tribes.

What Ezekiel saw, John saw again in Revelation. The vision repeated because the principle never changed.

God’s government structure is twelve.

From Genesis to Revelation. From Jacob to John. From the formation of Israel to the formation of eternity.

Twelve is not a fad. It is the foundation.

So let’s lay it out clearly.

If twelve was arbitrary, it would appear once. Maybe twice.

But it appears:

In the founding of Israel—twelve tribes from twelve sons.

In the governance of Israel—twelve governors under Solomon.

In the founding of the church—twelve apostles under Jesus.

In the structure of time—twelve months, twelve hours of day, twelve hours of night.

In the prophetic vision—twelve gates in Ezekiel’s city.

In the eternal reality—twelve gates, twelve foundations, 12,000 stadia, 144 cubits in the New Jerusalem.

In the throne room of heaven—twenty-four elders (12 + 12) surrounding God’s throne.

This is not coincidence. This is not culture. This is not preference.

This is divine architecture.

When God wants to govern, He uses twelve. When God wants to sustain prosperity, He uses twelve. When God wants to structure eternity, He uses twelve.

That’s the theology. Now, let me show you how we actually built it.

OUR JOURNEY TO TWELVE

We didn’t start with twelve.

We started with one.

One location. One campus. One city. Adelaide, Australia.

For years, that’s all we were. A single church doing the best we could to reach our city.

But God had shown us a pattern in Scripture that we couldn’t ignore. And slowly, He began to lead us into it.

From one location to two hubs. From two hubs to three. And from three toward twelve.

That’s the multiplication explosion.

Not addition. Not linear growth. Multiplication.

We asked God for the pattern. He took us to Acts.

Jerusalem and Antioch. Two centers. Two hubs of multiplication.

Not competition. Partnership.

Jerusalem was the theological center. The place where the apostles gathered. The hub that sent out Peter and John.

Antioch was the missionary center. The place where believers first called themselves Christians. The hub that sent out Paul and Barnabas to the Gentiles.

Two hubs. Not one.

Why?

Because one hub creates a bottleneck. Everything flows through one place, one team, one set of leaders, one approval process. Growth is limited by the capacity of that single hub.

Two hubs create distributed capacity. Multiplication accelerates because you’re not waiting on one center to process everything. You have two engines of multiplication running simultaneously.

We started with Adelaide (Australia) as hub one. This was our original center. The place where the church was planted. The hub that knew our DNA, our history, our culture.

Then God showed us Atlanta (USA) as hub two.

Not just another campus. A hub. A second center of multiplication. A place that could raise leaders, multiply campuses, develop infrastructure, and spread the movement across North America and beyond.

Two hubs meant we could multiply in two hemispheres simultaneously without creating a transatlantic bottleneck.

But God wasn’t finished.

Today, we have three functioning hubs:

Hub One: Futures Church Australia. Adelaide. The original. The mother hub. This hub oversees Australia, New Zealand, and the Asia-Pacific region. This is where the founding DNA lives. This is where the movement was born.

Hub Two: Futures Church USA. Atlanta. The second hub. This hub oversees North America, Latin America, and the Caribbean. Atlanta has developed its own leadership pipeline, its own multiplication engine, and its own regional identity—while carrying the same DNA.

Hub Three: Futuros. Our Spanish-speaking hub. Futuros is not just a translation of language in Futures Church—it’s a tribe within it. Same theology. Same values. Same mission. Different language. Different cultural expression. Futuros carries the DNA but contextualizes it for the Spanish-speaking world.

Three hubs functioning. Three centers of multiplication. Three engines running simultaneously.

And more are forming.

Indonesia is forming. So is Franklin, Tennessee.

Right now, our Australian hub oversees our Indonesian expression. The campuses are growing. The leaders are developing. The DNA is taking root.

Franklin, Tennessee, is in its formation stage—a hub emerging in the heart of America. The foundation is being laid. The leaders are being raised. The vision is taking shape.

Coming: Nine more hubs across Africa, South America, Europe, Asia.

God has and will raise powerful X-factor movement leaders for each of these hubs. When those leaders emerge—when the hubs have the capacity to multiply on their own—they will become functioning centers of multiplication.

That’s the pattern.

Hubs don’t start fully formed. They start as campuses. They grow under the oversight of an existing hub. Leaders develop. Capacity builds. And when God raises the right movement leader and the hub is ready to stand on its own, it launches.

We’re not appointing hubs. We’re recognizing what God is building.

Some of our X-factor leaders are clear. They’ve emerged. They’re leading. They’re multiplying.

Others are forming. God is growing them. He’s shaping them. He’s preparing them for what’s coming.

And I know this: God will raise more. He will grow others. He will bring new leaders into the Twelve Tribe Revolution who aren’t even on our radar yet.

The harvest requires it. The architecture demands it. And God is faithful to provide it.

Twelve tribes. Led by twelve movement builder teams. Each tribe operating as a hub with campuses relating to that hub.

Each tribe will have the following: Movement architects and their movement building teams, (senior leaders who carry the DNA). Hub infrastructure (accounting, legal, HR, technology). Campus multiplication strategy (specific to that tribe’s context). Local contextualization (language, culture, ministry style).

The tribes don’t compete. They collegiately operate. They march together (unified mission and vision and culture). They fight together (shared resources and support). But they live separately (contextualized execution).

What I see is this in the future: Each tribe will be led by its own movement architects and teams. And overseeing the whole will not be a single CEO, but a plurality of fathers and mothers ensuring the DNA holds firm across the tribes.

This is the Twelve Tribe Revolution. And it’s just beginning.

THE CARVER MODEL: BOUNDARIES CREATE FREEDOM

The Fence Principle

We use a governance system called the Carver Model.

I won’t bore you with the technical bylaws here, but I’ve put the full breakdown in the Appendix for those who want to implement it. But here is the heartbeat of it: Define the “No,” and release the “Yes.”

Most organizations try to list everything a leader can do. That is a suffocating list.

You cannot multiply speed if you are leading by permission slips.

Every time they want to try something new, they have to ask permission. Wait for approval. Navigate bureaucracy.

It kills speed. It kills initiative. It kills multiplication.

We simply list the five to eight things they cannot do. Like selling the building. Or changing the theology.

Everything else? It’s a yes.

If you want the specific policy language we use to keep twenty-one campuses safe while running fast, turn to the Appendix.

But for now, understand this: you cannot multiply speed if you are leading by permission slips. You must lead by boundaries.

THE DNA: WHAT WE HOLD TIGHT

These are non-negotiable across all tribes, all hubs, all campuses:

1) The Gospel: Jesus died, rose again, and offers salvation by grace through faith. He is the center of it all.

2) The Holy Spirit: We believe in the baptism of the Holy Spirit and the gifts of the Spirit and the leading of the Spirit.

3) The Mission: Plant churches that multiply across generations and continents.

4) The Name: Futures Church (one name, many expressions).

5) The Values: Grace over law, multiplication over addition, the local church as God’s plan.

6) Leadership Development: Standards for raising and credentialing leaders.

7) Financial Integrity: Transparency, accountability, and stewardship.

This is the DNA. This doesn’t change by tribe or culture.

Execution. One size does not fit all when you’re multiplying across continents, cultures, and languages.

Family, Not Franchise

Franchises clone. Families multiply.

McDonald’s wants every location to look identical. Same menu. Same colors. Same experience. Walk into a McDonald’s in Atlanta or Toronto, and you’ll see the exact same thing.

That’s a franchise. And franchises work for burgers.

But the church isn’t selling burgers. We’re multiplying life.

Families want every child to carry the DNA but express it uniquely. Same values. Different execution. Same mission. Different methods.

My three sons all carry my DNA. But they don’t look identical. They don’t act identically. They don’t lead identically.

Mark leads with strategic vision. He’s a spiritual entrepreneur. Nate preaches with prophetic fire. He is a great teacher. Benjamin is a musician, worshipper and leader who is only two years into his journey.

And that’s the point.

They’re not supposed to be me. They’re supposed to carry the DNA and multiply it in their own way.

Same with tribes.

We don’t want twelve tribes that look exactly like Adelaide. We want twelve tribes that carry the DNA but adapt to their language, their culture, their context.

Futuros doesn’t look exactly like Futures Church Australia. It shouldn’t. It’s a Spanish-speaking hub reaching the Spanish-speaking world. The DNA is the same. The expression is different, but it feels like family because it is... familiar.

That’s multiplication. Not cloning.

Offspring, Not Copies

When you copy, you get sameness. When you multiply, you get diversity.

Copies are weaker than the original. Every generation loses something in translation.

Offspring are stronger than the original. Every generation adds capacity, adapts to new environments, and carries the DNA into contexts the original could never reach.

We’re not photocopying churches. We’re birthing offspring.

And offspring don’t replace parents. They multiply the legacy.

THE 300-YEAR VISION

We’re not building for a decade. We’re building for three centuries.

My grandfather was born in Wales in 1901. Left to plant churches in India in his early twenties. Raised leaders. Multiplied the mission.

His decision to multiply set in motion a movement that’s still multiplying more than a hundred years later.

Through my father’s branch of the family alone, the legacy has exploded. My brother Russell and I are leading large, multiplying churches. Our children are serving in ministry. And between us, we now have seven grandchildren so far—the fifth generation rising. The Twelve Tribes Model is designed to outlast founders, outlive senior leaders, and multiply for 300 years.

Because kingdoms don’t depend on kings. They depend on architecture.

Here are the results so far:

Three hubs functioning (Australia, USA, Futuros), with Indonesia and Franklin forming.

Twenty-one campuses across four countries.

Four languages: English, Spanish, Bahasa, and Portuguese.

A structure designed to scale to twelve tribes across every major region of the world.

Leaders multiplying leaders across continents, cultures, and generations.

And we’re just getting started.

You don’t need to copy our exact model. But you do need to solve the same problem.

Here’s how to start:

Build hubs, not just headquarters. Don’t centralize everything in one location. That creates a bottleneck. Create regional hubs that can multiply independently.

Distribute authority, don’t hoard it. Give leaders real decision-making power, not just the illusion of leadership. Define what they cannot do, then let them run.

Hold DNA tight, execution loose. Be crystal clear about what must stay the same (your core mission, values, theology). Be flexible about what should change (ministry methods, service style, local expression).

Think 300 years, not three years. Build architecture that outlasts you by centuries, not just survives until you retire. Ask: Will this system work when I’m gone?

Let hubs emerge organically. Don’t appoint hubs before the leaders are ready. Raise leaders. Develop capacity. When God raises an apostolic leader and the hub can multiply on its own—release it.

THE BOTTOM LINE

Adam Neumann built a castle. It collapsed when the king left.

Don’t build a castle. Build a kingdom.

Distribute the architecture. Multiply the leaders. Release the authority. Define the boundaries. Hold the DNA tight. Hold the execution loose.

And watch what happens when you leave the room. The castle collapses.

The kingdom multiplies.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Adam Neumann built a $47 billion empire called WeWork. Then watched

it collapse to zero. Why? Because he built a castle. Castles can’t

survive without kings. The Twelve Tribes Model is divine

architecture—not organizational theory. As I mentioned earlier, the

number twelve appears throughout Scripture: Jacob’s twelve sons became

the twelve tribes—the multiplication explosion. Solomon’s twelve

governors sustained Israel’s prosperity. Jesus’s twelve apostles

launched the global church. The New Jerusalem has twelve gates, twelve

foundations, measures 12,000 stadia, and has walls 144 cubits thick

(12 x 12). Twenty-four elders (12 + 12) surround God’s throne. Even

time is structured around twelve: twelve months, twelve hours of day,

twelve hours of night. This isn’t coincidence. It’s divine

architecture.

The Shift:

We started with one location. God led us to two hubs. Now we have

three hubs functioning: Futures Church Australia (Adelaide), Futures

Church USA (Atlanta), and Futuros (our Spanish-speaking hub).

Indonesia and Franklin, Tennessee, are in formation—hubs emerging

under oversight until God raises their apostolic leaders.

Seven more hubs will emerge across Africa, Europe, Asia, and the

Middle East. Some apostolic leaders are clear; others are forming. God

will raise more and grow others who will join the Twelve Tribe

Revolution. The tribes march together (unified DNA), fight together

(shared resources), but live separately (contextualized execution).

We’re not building a corporation. We’re building a family of tribes.

The Audit:

1) Are you building castle high or kingdom wide?

2) Can your organization survive without you?

3) Do you have multiple hubs or one centralized tower?

4) Have you defined clear boundaries?

5) Are you holding DNA tight and execution loose?

Start with two hubs, not one. One hub is a bottleneck. Two hubs create

distributed capacity. Let hubs emerge organically—don’t appoint them

before leaders are ready. Think 300 years, not three years. Build

architecture that outlasts you by centuries. Ask: *Will this system

work when I’m gone?* Don’t build a castle. Build a kingdom.

The castle collapses. The kingdom multiplies.

Chapter 8

The Divine Purpose of Empty

WHY GOD STARTS HIS

GREATEST MULTIPLICATIONS WITH NOTHING

Sarah. Rebekah. Rachel. Hannah. Elizabeth.

Every major multiplication in Scripture came through barrenness.

Not despite it. Through it.

When God wants to multiply, He often starts with empty.

If you’re in a barren season right now, you need to understand the strategy.

Empty isn’t failure. It’s preparation.

THE BARREN WOMAN

Sarah was barren until she was ninety (Genesis 11:30).

Ninety. Not forty. Not fifty. Ninety.

For sixty-five years of her marriage to Abraham, she couldn’t conceive. Every month, disappointment. Every year, the whispers.

Every decade, the shame.

God promised Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars. But Sarah’s womb stayed closed (Genesis 15:5; 22:17).

Until the impossible moment when a ninety-year-old woman gave birth to Isaac—and became the mother of nations (Genesis 21:1-3, 6-7, 17:16).

Rebekah was empty for twenty years (Genesis 25:20, 26).

Twenty years of watching other women nurse their babies. Twenty years of wondering if God had forgotten His promise. Twenty years of barrenness before she conceived Jacob and Esau—twins—one of whom would father twelve tribes (Genesis 25:24-26, 36).

The barrenness continued to afflict future generations.

Rachel was barren for years while her sister Leah bore child after child (Genesis 29:31-35, 30:1). She cried out, “Give me children, or I’ll die!” (Genesis 30:1)

The desperation in that statement. The anguish. The emptiness that felt like death itself.

She watched her sister Leah have child after child. She endured the humiliation of being the beloved wife who couldn’t produce an heir.

Until God opened her womb and she bore Joseph—the one who would save Egypt and preserve the lineage of the Messiah.

Hannah wept until she couldn’t eat.

Year after year, she went to the temple, year after year she prayed, year after year she returned home empty (1 Samuel 1:7).

Her rival Peninnah mocked her, “Where are your children, Hannah? Why has God closed your womb?” (1 Samuel 1:6-7, author paraphrase)

Until God answered, and Hannah gave birth to Samuel—the prophet who would anoint kings and change a nation (1 Samuel 1:19-20; 10:1; 16:13).

Elizabeth was barren into her old age (Luke 1:7).

A priest’s wife. A woman of faith. A righteous, blameless woman who couldn’t conceive (Luke 1:5-6).

People assumed it was judgment. “God must be punishing her for something.”

But God was preparing her to carry John the Baptist—the forerunner of the Messiah, the voice crying in the wilderness (Luke 1:13, 17, 76).

These weren’t random stories. This is God’s pattern.

When He wants to multiply at a scale that defies explanation, He starts with impossible.

God didn’t choose these women because He was out of options.

He chose the empty to ensure that when multiplication happened, only God got the credit.

Think about it:

If Sarah had Isaac at twenty-five, people would say, “Well, she’s young and healthy. Of course she conceived.”

If Rebekah conceived immediately after marriage, people would say, “That’s normal. That’s expected.”

If Rachel had children right away, people would say, “Nothing special here.”

If Hannah conceived easily, people would say, “God blesses the faithful.”

If Elizabeth had John at thirty, people would say, “What’s remarkable about that?”

But when a ninety-year-old woman gives birth?

When a woman barren for decades suddenly conceives?

When an elderly priest’s wife carries the forerunner of the Messiah?

When the womb that was dead for years suddenly springs to life?

Everyone knows it was God.

No one can explain it naturally. No one can credit human effort.

No one can say, “Well, that’s just biology.” It’s miraculous. Pure and undeniable.

Barrenness isn’t punishment. It’s preparation.

It’s God’s way of ensuring that when breakthrough comes, the glory goes to the right place.

MY FIRST BARREN SEASON: 1983

I was nineteen years old when I got my first connect group.

Thirteen people. That was my starting number.

In those days, a big group was twenty-five-plus. I had half that. But I was confident. I’d been good at everything I’d tried. School came easily. Sports came easily. Leadership would be the same.

I was wrong.

Week after week, I poured everything into that group. I prayed. I prepared. I invited. I asked people personally. I tried every strategy I could think of.

And the group stayed exactly the same.

Thirteen people. For an entire year.

I couldn’t figure it out. Why weren’t people coming? What was I doing wrong?

This was my first taste of failure in leadership. My very first go at leading something in the church—and I was stuck.

I analyzed that group every which way. I questioned everything. I questioned myself.

See, when you’ve been good at most things in life, you build a certain confidence. School was easy for me. Sports were easy. Success felt normal.

So when I hit this wall, it didn’t just challenge my leadership. It hit my sense of security about myself.

A year of nothing. A year of trying and praying and inviting and improving—and staying stuck at thirteen.

That year felt like a lifetime.

But here’s what that season forced out of me:

I was an introvert. Shy. The idea of walking up to someone at church and personally inviting them terrified me.

But desperation broke the introvert.

I started approaching people at church. Face to face. Eye to eye. “You should come to my group.” It was hard. It was uncomfortable. Every conversation felt like a risk.

I started calling people when they missed a week. Not texting. Calling. Asking where they were. Telling them they were missed.

I started getting bold about why a person should come. Not apologetic. Not timid. Bold.

I prayed more. I pushed harder. I became someone I wasn’t before.

That’s what God was doing in the barrenness. He wasn’t just testing my patience. He was breaking something out of me. He was forging the leader I’d need to become.

Because one day, a year later, we hit fifteen.

Fifteen! I was so excited. Two people. That’s all it was. But it was growth.

And then it started to build. Slowly at first. Then faster and faster.

By the end of the next year: thirty-five.

By the end of the following year: sixty-five.

From thirteen to sixty-five in three years. But only because I didn’t quit during the year of barrenness.

I didn’t understand then what I understand now: God wasn’t ignoring my faithfulness. He was building foundations deep enough to support what He was about to do.

He was forging the boldness I’d need to lead thousands.

He was breaking the introvert so the movement builder could emerge.

THE SKYSCRAPER PRINCIPLE

Fast forward to 2007.

By then, the church had grown. We had momentum. We had leaders. I had a team of seven executive leaders—sharp, gifted, committed people who I thought would be with me for decades.

Between 2007 and 2009, all seven of them left.

Not because of moral failure. Not because of theological disagreement. Not because of conflict.

They just... left.

Different seasons. Different callings. Different paths.

But I felt like a failure. Again.

I had poured years into these leaders. Invested time, energy, resources, mentorship. Built them up. Empowered them. Released them into ministry.

And now they were gone.

All of them.

I was back at square one. Starting over. Rebuilding. Replanting.

I was working harder than I’d ever worked, and I was getting nowhere.

Sound familiar?

I cried out to God in frustration: Why is this taking so long? Why does everything feel so hard? Why am I starting over again? Haven’t I been faithful? Haven’t I done what You asked? Why is this barren season lasting so long?

His answer changed my leadership forever: Every building that becomes a skyscraper takes longer to build because the foundations need to go deeper.

The height of what you’re building determines the depth of

what you must dig.

I sat with that for days.

A small house can be built on a shallow foundation. Pour concrete a few feet down. Frame the walls. Roof it. Move in.

Done in six months.

But a skyscraper?

You don’t see anything above ground for the first year. Maybe longer.

Just a massive hole in the ground. Engineers drilling down 50, 60, 70 feet. Excavators digging deeper and deeper. Concrete being poured into places no one will ever see. Rebar being laid in foundations that will never be visible.

It looks like nothing is happening.

But everything is happening.

It’s like bamboo. For four years, you see nothing above ground. Just dirt. You water it. You wait. You wonder if anything is happening at all.

But underground, the root system is spreading, strengthening, preparing.

Then suddenly—90 feet in six weeks.

The explosion was prepared by the invisible years.

Because you can’t build a hundred stories on a foundation meant for ten.

You can’t put a skyscraper on a house foundation.

The height of what you’re building determines the depth of what you must dig.

Multiplication requires deep roots.

When nothing is growing above ground, God is digging holes below ground.

He’s not ignoring your barrenness. He’s using it.

He’s not punishing your faithfulness. He’s preparing you.

He’s building foundations deep enough to support twenty-one campuses across four countries.

He’s preparing you for multiplication you can’t even imagine yet.

THE SECOND BARREN SEASON: 2007-2009

When those seven executive leaders left between 2007 and 2009, I felt

like I was back at square one.

All that investment. All that development. All that time spent pouring into leaders who I thought would carry the vision forward.

Gone.

And I had to start over. Again.

But this time, I had the Skyscraper Principle.

This time, I knew: *God is going deeper because He’s about to go

higher.*

This time, I understood: The barrenness is preparation, not punishment.

This time, I didn’t quit.

I waited. I rebuilt. I trusted the process.

And you know what happened?

Within five years, we had more leaders than before. Within ten years, we had more campuses than we’d ever imagined. Within fifteen years, we had a global movement multiplying across continents.

The barren season wasn’t wasted time. It was prep time.

God was removing what wouldn’t scale so He could build what would.

He was clearing the foundation so He could build the skyscraper. He

was digging deeper so He could go higher.

THE BARRENNESS AUDIT: WHAT IS GOD DOING?

When you are empty, God is performing four surgical acts:

1) He Deepens Roots

You can’t build twenty years of fruit on two years of roots. You need twenty years of root development to handle twenty years of expansion.

The barren seasons aren’t God ignoring you. They’re God preparing you. He’s building character deeper than your capacity. He’s developing faithfulness stronger than your fruitfulness. He’s creating foundations that can support the weight of what’s coming.

If He gave you the multiplication now, you’d collapse under the weight of it. The roots aren’t ready. The foundation isn’t deep enough. The character isn’t formed. So, He waits. And He digs. And He builds.

2) He Purifies Motives

Barrenness kills your addiction to being “the hero.”

When you’re producing results, it’s easy to think you’re the reason for success. When you’re multiplying, it’s easy to take credit for what God is doing. When people are applauding, it’s easy to believe you deserve it.

But when you’re empty? When nothing is working? When all your effort produces nothing? You can’t hide behind results anymore.

You’re forced to confront the questions: Am I doing this for God’s glory or mine? Am I building for multiplication or validation? Am I faithful when no one is watching, applauding, or noticing? Am I still committed when there’s no fruit, no growth, no visible success?

Barrenness burns away the ego that would destroy the multiplication. It purifies your motives. It clarifies your calling. It reveals what’s really in your heart.

3\) He Increases Capacity

Capacity is built in the waiting, not the winning.

When Sarah was barren for sixty-five years, God was building her capacity to mother a nation. When Hannah was barren for years, God was building her capacity to raise a prophet. When Elizabeth was barren into old age, God was building her capacity to birth the forerunner.

Your capacity isn’t determined by what you do in the fruitful seasons. It’s determined by how you wait in the barren ones. Are you bitter or faithful? Are you quitting or enduring? Are you complaining or trusting? Are you despairing or believing?

The waiting builds the capacity. Every year of barrenness is a year of capacity development. Every season of empty is a season of expansion—invisible expansion, underground expansion, but expansion nonetheless.

4\) He Ensures Credit

When it’s impossible, everyone knows it was Him.

If you multiply through your own strength, people give you the credit. If you succeed through your own effort, people applaud you. If you build through your own gifting, people celebrate you.

But if you multiply through barrenness? If you succeed when it was impossible? If you build when every natural indicator said you’d fail? Everyone gives God the credit.

They can’t say, “Well, he’s just talented.” They can’t say, “She’s just gifted.” They can’t say, “It’s just good strategy.” They can only say, “Look what God did.”

God chooses the empty, the weak, the barren, the impossible—so that when breakthrough comes, no one can take credit.

THE OVERFLOW:

GOD’S PERSONAL BLESSING

Here’s what most people miss about these barren women: God didn’t just

fulfill His mission through them. He personally blessed them beyond

it. Abraham didn’t just get Isaac. After Sarah died, he married

Keturah and had six more sons. He lived long enough to see

grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He got to experience and enjoy

descendants he never expected.

He cares about the desires of your heart—not just the

fulfillment of His mission.

Hannah didn’t just get Samuel. After she dedicated him to the temple—after she gave up the very child she had wept and prayed for—God gave her five more children. Three sons and two daughters. The woman who couldn’t have one child ended up with six.

This matters.

Because it tells us something about God’s heart.

God isn’t transactional. He doesn’t say, “You waited faithfully; here’s your mission child, now get to work.” He’s generous. He’s personal. He cares about the desires of your heart—not just the fulfillment of His mission.

The waiting wasn’t just preparation for mission. It was preparation for overflow.

God isn’t just going to use your barren season. He’s going to bless you on the other side of it in ways you never imagined.

THE BOTTOM LINE

If you’re about to quit—don’t.

If you’re about to leave—wait.

If you’re about to trade your birthright for soup—stop.

The roots are growing. You just can’t see them yet.

The foundation is strengthening. You just can’t feel it yet.

The barrenness is preparing you for breakthrough. You just can’t understand it yet.

But it’s coming.

You aren’t just waiting for a child.

You are becoming the father of a nation.

Sarah didn’t just get Isaac. She got a legacy that’s still multiplying 4,000 years later.

Hannah didn’t just get Samuel. She got a prophet who anointed kings and changed a nation.

Elizabeth didn’t just get John. She got the forerunner of the Messiah.

Your barrenness isn’t the end of your story.

It’s the setup for your breakthrough.

Don’t give up in the waiting.

The multiplication is coming.

THE BARRENNESS QUESTIONS

Before you move on, sit with these:

1) What barren season are you currently navigating?

2) What might God be building underground that you can’t yet see?

3) What “bowl of soup” are you tempted to trade your calling for?

PRAYER

*God, when I’m empty, remind me that You’re not finished. You’re just

getting started.*

Give me the faith to wait when everything in me wants to run.

*Give me the vision to see what You’re building when all I can see is

what’s missing.*

*Give me the strength to endure the barrenness without despising my

birthright.*

*Give me the courage to trust Your process when I can’t see Your

progress.*

*I trust Your timing. I trust Your process. I trust that barrenness is

preparation for breakthrough.*

Make me faithful in the waiting. Make me fruitful in the winning.

Build foundations deep enough to support what You’re about to do.

Multiply or Die.

Amen.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Sarah. Rebekah. Rachel. Hannah. Elizabeth. Every major multiplication

in Scripture came through barrenness. Not despite it. Through it. When

God wants to multiply, He often starts with empty. Sarah was barren

until she was ninety. Rebekah was empty for twenty years. Rachel

cried, “Give me children, or I’ll die!” Hannah wept until she couldn’t

eat. Elizabeth was barren into old age. These weren’t random stories.

This is God’s pattern. When He wants to multiply at a scale that

defies explanation, He starts with impossible.

Barrenness isn’t punishment. It’s preparation.

The Shift:

God chose the empty to ensure that when multiplication happened, only

God got the credit. If Sarah had Isaac at twenty-five, people would

say biology. But a ninety-year-old woman giving birth? Everyone knew

it was God. Bamboo grows underground for four years before exploding

ninety feet in six weeks. Your first barren season builds foundations

you can’t see. Your second barren season tests whether you’ve learned

to trust process over progress. Empty isn’t failure. It’s preparation

for breakthrough that only God can explain. The roots are growing. You

just can’t see them yet.

The Audit:

Are you in a barren season right now? Are you about to quit? Don’t.

Are you about to leave? Wait. Are you about to trade your birthright

for soup? Stop. The barrenness is preparing you for breakthrough. You

just can’t understand it yet. Sarah didn’t just get Isaac—she got a

legacy still multiplying 4,000 years later. Hannah didn’t just get

Samuel—she got a prophet who anointed kings. And God didn’t just

fulfill His mission through them—He blessed them with overflow

beyond it. Your barrenness isn’t the end of your story. It’s the setup

for your breakthrough. Don’t give up in the waiting. The

multiplication is coming. Trust the timing. Trust the process.

Barrenness is preparation for breakthrough.

Chapter 9

The 4D Protocol

THE STEP ALMOST EVERY LEADER REFUSES TO TAKE

The phone call came at night.

I was in Atlanta, building our American campus. One of my key pastors back in Australia—the leader whom I had deployed to lead in my absence—had been maneuvering so he could take the church.

I’ll tell you the full story in chapter 12. It’s painful. But here’s what matters for now: Twelve months before that call, God told me to bring Josh—who is now the lead pastor of Australia and one of our global elders and senior leaders—onto the leadership team.

I’d resisted. We didn’t need him. But God insisted.

When the betrayal hit, Josh was already positioned.

Within weeks, the crisis was resolved. Within months, Josh was campus pastor. Within years, he was leading all of Australia—and multiplication exploded.

That’s the 4D Protocol in action.

And it’s built on a pattern most leaders miss entirely.

THE PATTERN JESUS MODELED

*”Now Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was gaining

and baptizing more disciples than John—although*

*in fact it was not Jesus who baptized, but his disciples. So he left

Judea and went back once more to Galilee.”*

—John 4:1-3

Read that again.

Jesus was gaining disciples. The movement was exploding. Even His enemies noticed.

But here’s the multiplication bombshell hidden in plain sight.

It was not Jesus who baptized.

It was His disciples.

Jesus had already deployed them. They were doing the work.

Multiplying the ministry.

And then? He left.

Four movements in one passage:

Discover—Jesus learned the Pharisees had heard. He was aware.

He was watching. He knew what was happening in His movement.

Develop—Jesus had poured into His disciples. He had taught them. Modeled for them. Walked with them. Given them the theology and the practice of baptism until they could do it themselves.

Deploy—The disciples were now doing ministry work without His personal oversight. Jesus had released them into real responsibility. They weren’t watching anymore. They were leading.

Depart—So He left Judea and went to Galilee. He didn’t hover.

He moved on to the next assignment.

That’s the complete multiplication sequence.

Most leaders discover potential but never develop it. They develop talent but never deploy it. They deploy but can’t depart.

Jesus mastered all four.

And if you want to build something that outlives you, you must master them too.

But here’s the secret nobody tells you: You can’t do this alone.

Very rarely is a single leader naturally gifted at all four Ds.

I’m great at discovering talent. So is Jane. We both see potential that others miss.

I’m very good at development. Walking people through stages over years.

But Jane? She’s better than I am at deployment. She knows how to release.

And both of us know when it’s time to leave.

That’s our team. That’s how we cover all four Ds.

Together.

This is exactly what Paul described in Ephesians 4. Christ gave gifts to the church: apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers. Not one person with all five. Different people with different gifts, working together to equip the saints and build up the body.

The movement builder might be great at discovering and deploying. The pastor might excel at developing. The teacher might strengthen the deployment through training. Together, they cover what none could cover alone.

If you try to do all four Ds by yourself, you’ll miss one or two.

Guaranteed.

That’s why you need a team.

Apostolic leadership teams work because together you can do all four easily. By yourself, you’ll have blind spots you don’t even know exist.

Here’s what you need to do.

Sit down with your spouse. Sit down with your team. Find your two top skills in the 4D Protocol. Discovery? Development? Deployment? Departure? Then find who covers your weak areas.

Because you can’t multiply at scale without a team that covers all four Ds.

The Team Principle: You can’t master all four Ds alone. But together with the right team, you can multiply exponentially. Now let me show you how it works.

Discover: God Sees What You Can’t See

Before I left for America, I was preparing for expansion, and I had deployed a leader.

He was the obvious choice. The guy who looked perfect on paper. Talented. Experienced. Everything about him screamed,

“This is the guy!”

But God said, “Get Josh as well.”

I looked at our team. We didn’t need Josh. We were covered. But God

said it again. “Get Josh as well.”

So I brought him onto the leadership team.

Josh was a spiritual son. But he wasn’t the obvious choice.

And that’s the first lesson of discovery.

The obvious choice isn’t always the right choice.

Samuel learned this. When God sent him to anoint the next king, Samuel saw Eliab—tall, impressive, kingly—and thought, ”Surely this is the LORD’s anointed!” (1 Samuel 16:6)

God said, “No. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7, author paraphrase).

David was in the field. Not even invited to the lineup.

But God saw a king.

I saw the obvious guy. But God saw Josh.

Here’s what I’ve learned about discovery: I see potential in

everyone.

I think all of them can be great. And if I can just get my hands on them, they will be brilliant.

That belief opens your eyes. You see the champion inside. Even when no one else does.

Jesus didn’t wait for Matthew to come to Him. He went looking for Matthew at a tax collector’s booth. Despised by everyone. And

Jesus said, “Follow me.”

That’s discovery. You have to go looking.

Look beyond the list. Think deeply about the people in your ministry. Because the gold is there.

The Discovery Principle: God sees what you can’t see. The obvious choice isn’t always the right choice. Listen when God speaks—even when you don’t think you need what He’s offering.

Develop: Close Proximity and Hundreds of Conversations

Once you’ve discovered them, you have to grow them.

Not train them. Develop them.

Jesus spent three years with the twelve. Not three weeks. Three years. Because development happens in close proximity over time.

You can’t microwave maturity. You can’t download character.

You can’t shortcut transformation.

But here’s something that will surprise you.

The least talented leaders often go the furthest. Because they’re diligent. And they pray. As they pray, the favor of God and His grace come on them. And they just keep on growing.

I’ve seen naturally talented leaders plateau at thirty. And “average” leaders still exploding at fifty.

Talent gets you noticed. But discipline and dependence on God take you further than talent ever will.

A great example of this in our ministry came through a man named Mark Elmendorp. Mark was, by his own admission, a “druggie” who played cricket and partied, destined for an uninspiring life. This was just before I met him.

No idea about church. No idea about leadership. No idea about the things of God.

He was raw. As raw as you could possibly be.

But there was something about him that drew me. I could see it.

That thing others couldn’t see:

He was in H.E.A.T.

Hungry. Effective. Adaptable. Transferable.

He was hungry for something real. He was effective when you gave him something to do. He adapted to whatever you threw at him. And he had this quality that made other people want to be around him.

When he gave his life to Christ, I took him on.

I helped him stop smoking. I helped him prepare himself for marriage. I helped him find an incredible woman who has been at his side for over thirty years now.

I had him lead as an assistant connect group leader.

I would watch him. See how he related to people. How he built community. How he navigated the messiness of real life in a small group setting.

Then I’d sit down with him. Not formal evaluations. Just conversations. Hundreds of conversations over the years.

“Here’s what I saw. Here’s what was strong. Here’s where you can grow.”

Like Jesus with His disciples, Mark spent a lot of time with me.

He was with me.

Not just in meetings. In life. In pressure. In crisis. He saw how I thought. How I led. How I handled difficult people. How I made decisions under pressure.

Close proximity transfers what training never can.

Today, Mark Elmendorp pastors a church with multiple campuses.

The guy with a limited future and with no church background is now multiplying leaders and planting churches.

But it didn’t happen overnight.

It happened through hundreds of conversations. Through years of close proximity. Through stages of progressive responsibility.

And here’s the contrast that will blow your mind.

The “obvious choice”—the guy with all the credentials, all the talent, all the experience—betrayed me and tried to take the church.

The druggie with no background became a multiplier who’s still leading decades later.

That’s what I mean when I say: the obvious choice isn’t always the right choice.

God sees H.E.A.T. when you see credentials. God sees future when you see history. God sees the champion inside when you see the raw material.

The four stages Jesus used:

Stage 1: I do; you watch—They observe and absorb.

Stage 2: I do; you help—They participate and learn.

Stage 3: You do; I help—They lead with a safety net.

Stage 4: You do; I watch—They lead independently.

Most leaders skip Stage 2. They jump from watching to doing. And that creates incompetent leaders who know theory but can’t execute.

Don’t skip stages. Walk them through all four.

With Mark, I walked him through every single stage. From druggie to connect group leader to campus pastor to lead pastor with multiple campuses.

That’s what development looks like when you invest in H.E.A.T.

instead of credentials.

The Development Principle: Development doesn’t happen in meetings. It happens in close proximity through hundreds of conversations over years. And God sees H.E.A.T. when you see credentials.

Deploy: Commissioning Creates Authority

You’ve discovered them. You’ve developed them. Now you must release them.

This is where most leaders choke.

Because deployment means giving away real authority.

And here’s what I learned early: Authority must be publicly transferred to be real.

Think about it. Politicians are sworn in publicly. CEOs are announced by boards. Judges are installed in open court. Military officers receive their commissions in ceremony. Why would anyone expect a new pastor, or any leader, to simply assume authority without public commissioning?

The Bible is full of this. Moses publicly commissioned Joshua before all Israel (Deuteronomy 31:7-8). Samuel publicly anointed David (1 Samuel 16:13). Jesus publicly sent out the twelve and the seventy-two (Matthew 10:1-5; Luke 10:1-3, 17). Paul publicly appointed elders in every church (Acts 14:23).

You cannot give yourself authority over an existing church body, movement, or organization. Someone else has to give it to you.

Publicly. In front of everyone.

That’s what makes it real. That’s what makes it stick.

When I was coming into leadership, the previous pastor told me to commission myself.

I said, “There’s no way I can do that.”

He pushed back. But I had to convince him to commission me in front of everyone.

That moment changed everything for me. And it’s why public commissioning is so important to me now.

I go out of my way to have commissioning services for all our team. I make a big deal of them. Let people know I believe in them.

Transfer authority publicly. Declare succession explicitly.

I did this with Josh.

First, I commissioned him as the campus pastor. Public service. In front of the entire congregation. I laid hands on him. Prayed over him. Declared his authority publicly.

“Josh is your campus pastor. He leads this campus. If you have questions, go to him. Not to me.”

That moment created momentum in the life of the church. People knew who to follow. They knew who had authority. They had witnessed the public transfer of authority and responsibility. We commissioned all the campus pastors who are there today. And the church in Australia has grown from three to eight campuses in Jane’s and my absence.

Years later, when it was time for the next transition, I commissioned Josh as the lead pastor.

Another public service. Another declaration. Another transfer of authority.

Each one of these moments creates momentum. Not just for Josh. For the entire church.

Because deployment isn’t just for the leader. It’s for the people who need to know whom to follow.

Do it well. Do it skillfully. Gather stakeholders publicly. Declare succession explicitly. Transfer authority tangibly. Celebrate extravagantly.

And never, ever let someone commission themselves.

The Deployment Principle: Authority must be publicly transferred. Deployment isn’t just for the leader—it’s for the people who need to know whom to follow.

Depart: The Ultimate Multiplication Test

This is the stage most leaders never reach.

Because departure feels like death.

And it is death.

The death of your control. The death of your centrality. The death of being needed.

But here’s what Jesus knew that most leaders don’t.

Departure creates ownership.

If your presence is required for

survival, you haven’t multiplied. You’ve built a demanding job.

John 4:3 says, “So he left Judea and went back once more to Galilee.”

Jesus didn’t stay to supervise the baptisms. He didn’t hover.

He left.

And His disciples kept baptizing. Kept multiplying. Kept expanding.

Because He was no longer the lid.

Can you leave and have it grow?

That’s the ultimate multiplication test.

If your presence is required for survival, you haven’t multiplied.

You’ve built a demanding job.

But if you can depart—and it thrives without you—that’s undeniable multiplication.

Jesus departed. The disciples kept baptizing. The movement covered the earth.

Departure isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.

When you depart from one assignment, you’re freed to discover the next.

I left Adelaide to build in America. That opened up Atlanta. Indonesia. South America.

Departure from one assignment freed me to multiply across continents.

Departure isn’t retirement. It’s redeployment.

Departure is not abandonment. It’s the final act of development.

The Departure Principle: God prepares what you can’t see. That’s why you prepare succession before you think you need it.

THE 4D CYCLE

Here’s the secret most leaders miss.

The 4D Protocol isn’t linear. It’s cyclical.

You’re always in all four stages simultaneously.

Discover new leaders while you’re developing current ones while you’re deploying proven ones while you’re departing from previous assignments.

That’s multiplication rhythm.

It’s because, as I mentioned earlier, I see potential in everyone. I think all of them can be great. And if I can just get my hands on them, they will be brilliant.

That belief changes everything.

Because when you believe people can be great, you invest differently. You develop differently. You release differently.

And you listen when God speaks—even when you don’t think you need what He’s offering.

THE BOTTOM LINE

John 4:1-3 captured the entire multiplication blueprint in three

sentences.

Jesus was gaining disciples. But His disciples were doing the baptizing. Then He left.

Discover. Develop. Deploy. Depart.

Four stages. One cycle. The pattern Jesus modeled.

But you can’t do all four alone.

Very rarely can a single leader master all four Ds.

But together with the right team, you can.

Discover them. Develop them. Deploy them with public commissioning. Depart from them.

Then do it again.

Because God sees what you can’t see. The obvious choice isn’t always the right choice. And the person God prepares is the person who’ll be standing when everything else falls apart.

That’s how you build something that outlives you by centuries.

That’s the 4D Protocol.

That’s how you multiply.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

John 4:1-3 reveals the complete multiplication sequence. Jesus was

gaining disciples. The movement was exploding. But it was not Jesus

who baptized—it was His disciples. They were doing the work.

Multiplying the ministry. And then He left. Four movements in one

passage: Discover (Jesus learned and observed), Develop (Jesus had

poured into His disciples until they could do ministry themselves),

Deploy (the disciples were leading without His personal oversight),

Depart (so He left Judea). That’s the complete multiplication

sequence. Most leaders discover potential but never develop it. They

develop talent but never deploy it. They deploy but can’t depart.

Jesus mastered all four.

The Shift:

You can’t do all four Ds alone. Very rarely is any single leader

naturally gifted at all four. This is exactly what Paul described in

Ephesians 4—different gifts working together to build up the body.

Discover them—God sees what you can’t see. Develop them—hundreds

of conversations over years, close proximity over programs. Deploy

them—public commissioning transfers authority and makes succession

explicit. Depart from them—available but not needed, redeployment,

not retirement. Then do it again. Jane and I cover all four together.

She’s better at deployment. I’m better at development. Both of us know

when to depart. Your job isn’t to master all four yourself. Your job

is to build a team that covers all four.

The Audit:

Rate yourself 1-10 on each D.

Discover:

1) Do I actively look for hidden potential?

2) Do I see champions before others do?

Develop:

1) Do I invest in close proximity over time?

2) Do I have hundreds of conversations?

3) Do I see H.E.A.T. over credentials?

Deploy:

1) Do I publicly commission?

2) Do I transfer real authority?

3) Do I make succession explicit?

Depart:

1) Can I leave and have it grow?

2) Am I available but not needed?

Identify your strongest D. Identify your weakest D. Who on your team

covers your weakness? Because you can’t do all four alone.

But together with the right team, you can multiply exponentially.

Chapter 10

The Multiplication Marriage

WHEN ONE PLUS ONE

EQUALS TEN THOUSAND

BY JANE EVANS

I was twenty years old, sitting in a youth camp service, wrestling

with everything—my future, my calling, the man I believed God

had for me who didn’t yet know I existed.

In that moment, I cried out to God to show me His will.

What happened next changed everything.

The room around me faded. I saw an image of a mountain. A wide, graded, somewhat smooth road led around the mountain—the kind of road most people would take. But as I stared at it, I became aware of a small, rugged track, the kind a mountain goat would leave, heading straight up into the clouds that surrounded the peak.

I couldn’t see the destination of either road.

But I knew the kind of journey each represented.

Then God spoke. Not audibly, but unmistakably: It depends on where you want to end up. You choose.

Immediately, I understood. The longing of my heart was to draw closer to Him—to take the road less travelled, the more challenging path, the one most people would shy away from. And I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that only one person had the same draw and call from God.

That person was Ashley.

TWO YEARS OF HOLDING IT IN MY HEART

Sometimes you receive vision years before anyone else can see it.

For two years after that camp, I carried what God had shown me. Ashley didn’t notice me—not in the way I hoped. I watched him. I prayed. I waited. And I held that vision in my heart the way Mary held the angel’s words about Jesus—pondering them, protecting them, not yet ready to speak them out loud.

Those two years taught me something critical about multiplication marriage before I ever had one: The vision has to be yours before it can be ours.

I wasn’t waiting for Ashley to give me purpose. I wasn’t hoping he’d sweep me off my feet and hand me a mission. I already had the mission. I’d already chosen the goat track. What I needed was a partner who wouldn’t try to redirect me to the easier road.

When Ashley finally did notice me—when we started dating and began those deeper conversations—he said something that would have rattled most women: “I can’t marry you unless you have the same mission as me.”

He said it plainly. Not romantically. Just honestly.

And I didn’t flinch.

Not because I was trying to impress him. Because I’d already settled it two years earlier on my knees at that camp. I’d already chosen the mountain. I’d already said yes to the harder path. Ashley wasn’t presenting me with a new choice—he was confirming a choice I’d already made.

What he didn’t know when he made that statement was that I’d been carrying a vision of our partnership before he even knew my name.

But when he said “same mission or no marriage,” something in me exhaled.

Finally. Someone who gets it.

THE FIGHT TO STAY IN THE ROOM

Nobody warned me about multiplication marriage: sometimes you have to

fight just to stay in the room.

The early years were brutal in ways I didn’t expect.

I was working full-time as a nurse, often doing shift work. Ashley was running hard after the call on his life—exhilarated, energized, outworking everyone around him. And I was keeping house. Cleaning. Cooking. Having babies. Desperately trying to keep up.

I couldn’t get to all the meetings where vision was shared, where processes were designed, where wins were celebrated. I’d come home exhausted from a twelve-hour shift and hear about what God was doing, what they’d decided, where things were heading—and I hadn’t been there for any of it.

I watched Ashley run ahead. And more times than I want to admit, our conversations ended with me in tears, trying to make him understand, You’re leaving me behind.

This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. I’d chosen the goat track. I’d chosen the harder path. But somehow I’d ended up on the sidelines while he climbed.

When the kids came, it got worse.

Ashley would go to conferences and suggest I stay home. And honestly? It was easier for him that way. He could see his peers, hang out with other leaders, engage fully without the responsibility of family in tow. It didn’t help that at these conferences, few other wives came along. There was absolutely no provision for childcare. None. The other leaders wanted the wives to stay home. They felt it would distract the men to have them there.

Let that sink in.

The system wasn’t designed for multiplication marriage. It was designed for addition marriage—husband leads, wife supports from a distance, and maybe she catches up in ten years when the kids are older.

But that wasn’t the path I had chosen.

I wanted to be there. I needed to be there. Not to check up on Ashley. Not because I didn’t trust him. Because I had seen the mountain too. Because God had spoken to me, not just to him. Because I knew that if I let go now, if I settled for catching up later, I would lose something I’d never get back.

So I fought to make it happen.

Taking them out of school was hard. All of us sleeping in one hotel room was hard. Juggling two wriggly, very active boys through meetings that sometimes lasted days—that was hard.

But was it worth it?

Yes. A million times, yes.

COMPLIANCE IS NOT SUBMISSION

There is no natural yielder in this marriage.

We are both strong people. Both opinionated. Both passionate. Both intelligent. Both convinced we’re right—often at the same time, having reached opposite conclusions.

When we were running together, aligned on the outcome, it was exhilarating. Two strong people moving in the same direction is a force multiplier. But when the direction we were running, or the pace, or the end goal started to pull apart, my natural inclination was to object. Loudly.

Compliance kills multiplication.

It turns a partnership into a dictatorship with a silent, resentful

subject.

If you ask me about anything, I have an opinion. Right or wrong, I’m happy to share it with you. I’m also a verbal processor, which means I don’t think it through and then speak. I think by speaking.

The words come out as I’m discovering what I actually believe.

You can imagine how well that worked in heated moments.

There was a season in our marriage when I decided it was better to just stay quiet.

I thought I was keeping the peace. What I was actually doing was stopping the processing of emotions and letting them build. I was outwardly compliant. Smiling. Going along. But inside? I was seething. Withdrawing. Getting angry at other people because it felt more acceptable than fighting with him.

Let me say this clearly: Compliance is not submission.

Compliance is shutting down to avoid conflict. Submission is choosing to yield while staying fully present, fully engaged, fully yourself.

Compliance kills multiplication. It turns a partnership into a dictatorship with a silent, resentful subject.

I had to learn a different way.

THE MARRIAGE HACK THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

God taught me something that rewired how I handle disagreement.

At work, as a nurse, if I disagreed with a decision an intern made regarding patient care, I knew I had the right to appeal to a higher power—his supervisor, the attending physician. I didn’t have to fight it out endlessly with the intern. I could escalate.

God showed me I had the same right in my marriage.

If I disagreed with Ashley on something—truly disagreed, not just preferred a different option—I had the right to appeal to a higher power. I could say my piece. Talk it out. Make my case. And if he still couldn’t see what I was saying, I could take it to God and ask Him to deal with it.

This wasn’t passive. This wasn’t giving up. This was strategic.

It meant I didn’t have to win every argument in the moment. I could release it upward. Let God be the referee. Trust that if I was right, He’d bring clarity. And if I was wrong... well, He’d bring clarity on that too.

I remember one argument we had that was particularly brutal. I can’t honestly remember what it was about—which tells you something right there—but it raged on for hours. Maybe days.

I finally went to God. Started telling Him how I felt. Laid out my case. Asked Him to straighten Ashley out for me.

There was a pause.

Then God said something that changed the way I argue forever, What about this thing you are arguing about has an eternal impact?

Gut punch.

We were arguing about things. Stuff. Decisions that, in the scope of eternity, mattered exactly zero. I was burning emotional capital, damaging intimacy, and wasting hours of my life on something that would be completely irrelevant in ten years. Let alone a hundred.

Let alone a thousand.

But God wasn’t finished.

I walked straight from that moment into an appointment with a young woman. And as I sat with her, God spoke to me—showed me something about her situation that no one else knew. I was able to share it with her, minister to her, speak directly into the hidden place she’d been carrying alone.

I didn’t feel like a hero that day.

I felt like God was holding up two pictures side by side: This is what you’ve been spending your energy on. And this is what eternal impact actually looks like.

The contrast was devastating.

That question became a filter for me: Does this have eternal impact?

Not “Is this important?” Not “Am I right?” Not “Does this need to be addressed?”

Does this have eternal impact?

If the answer is yes—if it’s about character, calling, the direction of the mission, the health of our family, the integrity of our leadership—then it’s worth the fight. Fight hard. Stay in the room. Don’t back down.

But if the answer is no—if it’s about preferences, timing, methods, things—then release it. Appeal it upward. Let God handle it. Save your ammunition for the battles that actually matter.

This filter has saved us hundreds of hours of pointless conflict. It’s protected our intimacy. It’s kept us from winning arguments and losing each other.

What makes this work is Ashley knows I do this. And he does the same thing.

We are both submitted to that higher power—God. Not just theoretically. Operationally.

There have been times when I’ve appealed upward, and God has shown me I was wrong. Humbling. Necessary.

But there have also been times when I’ve appealed upward, and God has spoken to Ashley. Times when it’s him coming to me with the apology. Times when he’s had to say, “I heard from God. You were right. I’m sorry.”

This is what the Bible actually means when it talks about “submitting one to another.”

That verse—Ephesians 5:21—is one of the most skipped-over sentences in Christian marriage teaching. Everyone rushes past it to get to “wives submit to your husbands” and misses the entire framework. Mutual submission comes first. It’s the foundation on which everything else is built.

When both partners submit to God, the question stops being “Who’s in charge?” The question becomes “Who’s hearing correctly?”

Sometimes that’s Ashley. Sometimes that’s me.

The breakthrough in our marriage wasn’t figuring out whose lane was whose. It was both of us agreeing that God’s voice trumps both of our opinions. And giving each other permission—real permission—to appeal to Him and to be corrected by Him.

Because you’re not fighting for dominance. You’re fighting for clarity. You’re not trying to win. You’re trying to hear.

And when God speaks—to either of you—the argument is over.

Not because one person caved. Because both people bowed.

That’s mutual submission. That’s the operating system of a multiplication marriage.

One important note: This only works if both partners are genuinely submitted to God—not using “God told me” as a trump card but genuinely seeking His voice together. Spiritual maturity is the prerequisite. Without it, the framework becomes manipulation.

THE PROPHETIC AND THE STRATEGIC

Ashley is strategic. A futurist. A visionary. He sees the long game,

maps out the steps, builds toward destinations others can’t yet

imagine.

I am prophetic. A gut-feeler. Intuitive. Discerning. I see things before they happen—often before they need to happen.

Together? We are unstoppable.

But it took us years to learn how to work together instead of past each other.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand about the prophetic gift: Prophets know the what. Sometimes the why. But rarely the how, and almost never the when.

I’ll flag something, and Ashley won’t see it. Six months later, he’ll act on it—sometimes not even remembering I’d said it first. That used to frustrate me. Now I understand it’s just the nature of how we’re wired. I see early. He builds when it’s time. The gap between my seeing and his building used to feel like rejection. Now I recognize it as rhythm.

But there are moments when the gap can’t wait six months.

THE PARTY I KNEW WAS COMING

Our middle son was in high school. He came to us one evening and asked

if he could sleep over at a friend’s house. Ashley said, “Sure.”

I sat bolt upright in bed.

Out of my mouth—with a ferocity that shocked everyone in the room, including me—came the words: “No, you can’t. There is going to be a party.”

My son stared at me. Ashley stared at me. Neither of them knew of any party. Neither did I—not in any natural sense. I couldn’t explain how I knew. I just knew. The words had come out of me before I’d even processed them.

I argued. I pushed. But I couldn’t give them logic. I couldn’t give them evidence. All I had was a gut-level certainty that something was wrong.

In the end, Ashley made the decision. He could go.

I felt deeply uncomfortable. But I also knew that fighting further would only create more conflict without changing the outcome. So I did what I’ve learned to do when I’ve said my piece and been overruled: I prayed.

He got to his friend’s house. The friend said, “We’re going to another friend’s place. There’s a party tonight.”

Right there—right in that moment—my words should have been enough to stop him. He knew what I’d said. He knew I’d been certain. But he was a teenage boy, wanting to fit in, convinced he could handle whatever was thrown at him.

There was alcohol at the party.

The friend he’d gone with started drinking heavily and quickly became dangerously intoxicated. The friend left the party on foot. My son—loyal to a fault—followed him. They crossed a main road, barely missing oncoming traffic, and ended up at a McDonald’s across the street.

My son made his friend sit down while he went to order. While he was at the counter, the friend fell off his chair. Eyes rolled back.

Started fitting. Turning blue.

They didn’t order food. They called an ambulance.

That boy spent three days in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

My son, too scared to call us, called his older brother—who had his license—to come pick him up. They came into our room at midnight and told us everything.

My job is to speak what I see and trust Him with what I can’t control.

I wasn’t angry at Ashley.

That might surprise you. He’d overruled me. I’d been right. Our son had walked into exactly what I’d warned about.

But I’ve learned that being right isn’t the point. The point is what we do with it after.

This became a learning moment for all of us. For our son—that when Mom speaks with that kind of certainty, there’s a reason. For Ashley—that my prophetic sense isn’t emotional volatility; it’s a gift that needs to be weighed seriously. For me—that even when I’m not heard, prayer still covers. God still protects. My job is to speak what I see and trust Him with what I can’t control.

The lesson we all took from that night was simple: When I feel something that strongly, we should all listen.

Not because I’m always right, but because when the prophetic gift activates at that level of intensity, it’s not a suggestion. It’s a warning.

And warnings are meant to be heeded.

That night marked a turning point in our marriage.

Ashley didn’t dismiss what had happened. He didn’t write it off as coincidence or move on without processing it. But he also didn’t swing to the other extreme—treating every strong feeling I had as prophetic revelation.

Instead, he did something that showed me why I married him.

He said, “Okay. I need to listen to you when you feel strongly about things like that.”

Then he asked me a question that changed how we operate: “Can you help me know the difference? Can you weigh up what you’re feeling—and can I ask you clarifying questions to help me understand if this is prophetic or if it’s just a strong opinion?”

I could have been offended by that. Some wives might hear, “Is this prophetic or just an opinion?” as dismissive. But I understood what he was actually saying.

He was saying, I believe in your gift. I saw it in action. I want to honor it. But I need your help to know when it’s activated.

And he was right to ask.

Because here’s the truth: I do have strong opinions about everything. If you ask me, I’ll tell you what I think—about the decision, the timing, the person, the color of the carpet. Not all those opinions are prophetic. Some of them are just... me.

So we built a system. When I feel something strongly, Ashley will ask me clarifying questions:

“Is this a gut feeling or a conviction?”

“How certain are you—60 percent? Ninety percent?”

“Is this an ‘I’d prefer we didn’t’ or a ‘Something is wrong’?” “Are

you sensing danger, or just discomfort?” These questions aren’t doubt.

They’re discernment.

And I’ve learned to answer them honestly. To say, “I don’t know; it might just be me,” when I’m not sure. And to say, “I’m telling you right now; something is wrong,” when I am.

That’s partnership. That’s multiplication. Two people building a shared operating system for navigating the intersection of the natural and the supernatural.

WHEN HIS LANE TERRIFIED ME

I’ve told you about times when I saw something Ashley didn’t. Times

when my prophetic sense caught what his strategic mind missed.

But multiplication marriage isn’t one person always being right. It’s two people trusting each other’s gifts—even when it terrifies you.

So, let me tell you about a time I had to submit to Ashley’s discernment. A time when everything in me resisted. A time when I couldn’t hear God at all—and had to trust that Ashley could.

Ashley came to me and said God wanted us to move to America.

I didn’t want to go.

My exposure to America had been limited, and what I’d seen hadn’t impressed me. The Americans I’d met were loud, seemed inauthentic, and most of the ministry couples I’d encountered were living in marriages that were either train wrecks of seething resentment or cold indifference. I looked at them and thought, That’s not what I want to become.

But it wasn’t just cultural hesitation. It was everything. I was in the middle of the change of life—already navigating a season where I wasn’t sure who I was or what God was asking of me. The idea of adding international relocation to that internal disruption felt like double discomfort.

And the worst part? Ashley was insistent that God had spoken to him. And I heard nothing.

Me. The one who usually hears God clearly. The prophetic one. The gut-feeler. The one who sits bolt upright in bed and knows things I shouldn’t know.

Silence.

I didn’t pretend to be okay with it. I wrestled. I sorted through my objections—some legitimate, some just fear wearing a logical costume.

Then a friend suggested we spend three months living in the suburbs of the USA—just to see how we felt. I could live with that. A trial run.

Just before we left, I hurt my back. I spent the first few weeks in America flat on my back, unable to do anything. Unable to distract myself. Unable to run from the question I’d been avoiding.

Now God had my full attention.

One morning, doing devotions, I read a verse from Genesis 37:1 (paraphrase): “And Jacob settled in the land where Abraham and Isaac had sojourned.”

Then God spoke: Jane, this move is not really about you. It’s about your children—but more importantly, your grandchildren. They will have a legacy in this land.

I was undone.

What God was saying was this: Your boys will move with you. Their families will grow up alongside you in the USA. This isn’t about uprooting your life. It’s about planting something for generations you haven’t even met yet.

That was all I needed.

But I needed one more confirmation.

There’s a difference between blind obedience and earned trust.

When we decided to tell our sons, I went to God first. I put out a fleece—the kind of specific, almost audacious request that either proves you’re hearing correctly or exposes that you’re not.

I prayed: “God, if this is really You—if this move is really about their legacy and their children’s legacy—then let the first thing out of all three of their mouths be this: ‘When do we leave?’”

We told them individually. Separate conversations. No chance for them to coordinate or influence each other.

One by one, in unknowing unison, they said the same thing: ”When do we leave?”

Not “Are you sure?” Not “What about our lives here?” Not “Can we think about it?”

When do we leave.

Three sons. Three conversations. Same words.

We were all in the USA within the year. All of us. Our sons. Their families. Together.

Submitting to Ashley’s lane didn’t mean abandoning my own discernment. It meant trusting his gift when mine was silent.

There will be seasons when your spouse hears clearly, and you hear nothing. Seasons when their lane is the one God is illuminating, and yours is dark. In those moments, you have a choice: resist until you get your own confirmation or trust the person you’ve built a life with.

I’m not saying follow blindly. I’m saying there’s a difference between blind obedience and earned trust.

Ashley had earned my trust over decades. When he said, “God told me,” it wasn’t manipulation. It wasn’t ego. It was the same voice that had guided us through a hundred other decisions.

So I submitted. Not to Ashley’s authority over me—but to his gift, in his lane, for the sake of our shared mission.

And he was right.

Our grandchildren are growing up in America. They have a legacy in this land. A legacy I almost missed because I was too afraid to follow a word I hadn’t personally heard.

Sometimes submission isn’t about agreeing. It’s about trusting.

WHAT THE BOYS SAW

What did our sons see growing up?

Two people submitted to God and working out submission to each other in honest and raw conversations.

We made a decision early on that we wouldn’t fight in front of them. We could disagree—they saw that. But the thrashing it out, the emotive words, the heated discussions, the attacking of opposite opinions—that happened in private.

So, the boys saw disagreement. And then they saw the fruit of unity and submission. They saw the end product, not the process. They lived in the security of knowing that we all fought for the same team. That we were all on the same team. That God was the head of our house. That our lives—private and public—were the same. Nothing changed when the doors closed or opened.

They saw that we loved each other. That we respected each other. That we didn’t lose ourselves in the family, but each person had value. And that if they submitted under God’s leadership, they would share in the fruit of multiplication.

THE BABY I BIRTHED AT SIXTY

A year before I turned sixty, God started speaking to me in a way I

didn’t understand.

Everywhere I looked, I saw the numbers 11:11.

On clocks. On tickets: “Now serving number 1111.” On receipts. On signs flashing: “Next train due at 11:11.” It was so frequent, so relentless, that I started taking photos every time it happened. I had no idea what it meant. I just knew it meant something.

I searched through the entire Bible. Book after book. Nothing resonated. I was most of the way through the New Testament, beginning to doubt my own sanity, when I turned to Hebrews 11:11: “By faith Sarah herself also received strength to conceive seed, and she bore a child when she was past the age, because she judged Him faithful who had promised” (NKJV).

It leapt off the page.

Something in my spirit came alive. I felt God say, I am going to give you another baby. I want you to start preparing for it.

I had no idea what that meant. But I knew—the way you know things you can’t explain—that God was going to ask me to birth something.

God doesn’t wait for your résumé.

He gives you the assignment before you have the credentials.

On the week of my sixtieth birthday, I was doing my devotions and heard: Get a pen and paper.

I did.

And God started downloading. Structure. Content. Framework. The blueprints for something I didn’t fully understand yet.

At first, I thought it was a manual—something to give our pastors who were planting campuses. A training tool for their teams.

God said, No, it’s bigger than that.

I kept building. I thought maybe it was a course for our Bible college students.

God said, No, it’s bigger than that.

I knew by then it had to be degree-level. God had made that clear. But I couldn’t write a degree-level course because I didn’t have my master’s.

So I started my master’s. I’m still working on it.

God doesn’t wait for your résumé. He gives you the assignment before you have the credentials. The credentials are catching up to the calling.

WHAT I BUILT

They told me church planting wasn’t sexy. No one would want to study

it.

They told me I wasn’t qualified.

They told me it would be impossible to finish in time.

I simply had to be obedient.

In 2025, we launched the degree-level course in both Australia and the USA. In its first year, over one hundred students intersected with the program. Right now, we’re writing the second year of what I believe will be an advanced diploma toward a degree in Leadership and Church Planting.

Just like you can’t see everything a child will become when it’s born, I can’t see everything God is going to do with this. I just know I was supposed to birth it. The rest is His.

My nine-year-old grandson asked me one day what I was doing.

“I’m writing a course,” I told him.

“Who is it for?” he asked.

And in a moment of great clarity—in the middle of a flood of tears—I said: “It’s for you, Judah. It’s for you.” His eyes opened wide like saucers.

And I finally saw what God saw.

The multiplication of a marriage into children. And grandchildren. And beyond.

That’s multiplication.

That’s what 1 + 1 = 10,000 actually looks like.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

At twenty, Jane saw two roads—a wide, graded path around the

mountain, and a rugged goat track heading straight up into the clouds.

She chose the harder path. Forty years later, she can see where it

leads: three sons who chose the same path, grandchildren on the

mountain, a hundred students learning to plant churches, and a legacy

that will outlive her. Multiplication marriage isn’t found. It’s

forged. Forged in the fights behind closed doors and the unity

presented when doors open. Forged when you appeal to a higher power

instead of demanding to win. Forged when you build systems for

discerning the prophetic from the opinionated. One plus one doesn’t

equal two. One plus one equals 10,000.

The Shift:

Compliance is not submission. Compliance is shutting down to avoid

conflict. Submission is choosing to yield while staying fully present,

fully engaged, fully yourself. Jane learned to appeal to a higher

power—if she disagreed with Ashley, she could make her case, and if

he couldn’t see it, she could take it to God. The question became:

“Does this have eternal impact?” If yes, fight hard. If no, release

it. When both partners submit to God, the question stops being “Who’s

in charge?” and becomes “Who’s hearing correctly?” Sometimes that’s

him. Sometimes that’s her. That’s mutual submission. That’s the

operating system of a multiplication marriage.

The Audit:

Have you chosen the goat track or the easy road? Have you and your

spouse had the “same mission” conversation? Are you compliant or truly

submitted? When you disagree, do you fight to win or appeal to a

higher power? Can you identify your spouse’s lane—and do you trust

it when you can’t hear God yourself? What are you building together

that will outlive you both? The goat track is worth it. Every tear.

Every fight. Every hard conversation. Every moment of submission—to

God, to your spouse, to the mission that’s bigger than both of you.

Worth it.

Chapter 11

Multiply at Home First

HOW TO BUILD A LEGACY

WITHOUT LOSING YOUR KIDS

He was a good man. A faithful man. A man who left a six-figure

salary to serve God as an executive pastor.

His senior pastor had a vision—a building program that would cost millions. He disagreed. Thought it was too ambitious. Too expensive. Impossible to fulfill.

He was right. History proved him right.

But being right cost him everything.

The building program consumed him. Long hours. Constant pressure. Rallying the congregation. Managing the finances. Out of the house more nights than he was in it.

His two older children had already left for college. They remembered Dad before the building program. Before the pressure.

Before the cloud.

But his younger four? They got a different father.

They got the man who came home exhausted. Frustrated. Carrying a weight he couldn’t put down.

They got the overflow.

His wife tried to redirect. Stayed positive. Covered for him when she could. But kids are sponges. They absorb everything—even the things you don’t say out loud.

One night, they asked him a question. The same kind of question they’d asked a hundred times before. And something broke.

Two minutes. That’s all it took.

Two minutes of frustrated overflow. Everything he’d been carrying—the financial pressure, the impossible expectations, the disagreement with his senior pastor, the resentment at the situation—it all came pouring out.

The kids didn’t say much. Life went on. Nothing seemed to manifest.

But seeds were planted that night.

Years later, as those four kids left home, they stopped going to church.

Thirty years later? Their lives are in ruins. Unfulfilling. Broken. Far from God.

Meanwhile, the older two—the ones who left before the building program, before the pressure, before the cloud—are serving God faithfully. Not perfect. But healthy. Spiritually grounded.

Same parents. Same home. Same faith tradition.

Different outcome.

What was the difference?

The younger four got the overflow.

They watched their father sacrifice his family for the church. They felt the financial pressure that came from “following God’s call.” They absorbed the frustration, the criticism, the resentment—even when it wasn’t spoken directly to them.

And they decided: not worth it.

That family’s story isn’t unusual. It’s the norm.

Research indicates that “nearly two-thirds” of young adults who grew up in church disengage from regular church involvement after high school—with Lifeway Research reporting about 66 percent of teens leaving church attendance as young adults and Barna Group finding that roughly 64 percent of 18- to 29-year-olds who grew up in church have withdrawn from church involvement.⁶ For pastors’ kids specifically, a Barna study found that 40 percent go through periods of significant doubt about their faith, and 33 percent are no longer actively involved in church.⁷

The ones who grow up closest to ministry often want nothing to do with it. They’ve seen behind the curtain. They know what it costs. And they’ve decided the price is too high.

THREE FOR THREE

Mark. Nate. Benjamin.

All three in ministry.

All three multiplying.

Two married to women who are in ministry with them—replicating the partnership they watched growing up.

Three for three.

But I need to be honest with you. It wasn’t always obvious it would turn out this way.

There were seasons—dark seasons—where Jane and I looked at each other and wondered if we were going to lose one of our kids to God’s kingdom. Seasons where they pushed back hard. Seasons where they questioned everything. Seasons where we lay awake at night praying, “God, please don’t let us lose them.”

We weren’t confident parents gliding through with a perfect formula. We were desperate parents clinging to God and doing everything we knew to do.

So if you’re in one of those seasons right now—if you’re watching your son drift or your daughter pull away, if you’re wondering whether anything you’ve done has made a difference— don’t lose heart.

And whatever you do, don’t compromise.

Don’t lower the standard because you’re scared of losing them. Don’t back off the boundaries because conflict feels too risky. Don’t stop modeling authenticity because they’re rolling their eyes.

Instead, do this: Up the positivity. Up the authenticity. Up the emotional vulnerability.

Double down on the love. Double down on the conversations. Double down on being real about your own struggles, your own failures, your own need for God.

You can’t give away what you haven’t built at home.

You’ll be amazed at how God uses that to change things.

We were.

Our three sons didn’t choose ministry because we had it all figured out. They chose it because they watched us figure it out—imperfectly, desperately, authentically. They saw us fail and apologize.

They saw us struggle and pray. They saw us hold the line and hold them

close at the same time.

And somewhere in all that mess, they encountered a God who was real. Not because we were perfect. Because we were honest.

This chapter is about what we learned in those desperate seasons. What we did when we didn’t know what to do. What we believe made the difference.

Because here’s what we learned over forty years: You can’t give away what you haven’t built at home. You can’t multiply leaders in the church if you’re producing resentment in your kids. You can’t build a movement that lasts if your own children walk away.

If you get this wrong, nothing else in this book matters.

If your ministry succeeds and your family fails, have you succeeded?

THE GENERATIONAL PATTERN

This didn’t start with me.

My parents broke the pattern first.

My brother and I both grew up as missionary kids in Papua New Guinea. Both of us in ministry today. Both of us doing global work.

Why?

Because our parents understood something most ministry leaders miss.

They protected us from the poison.

When they needed to discuss difficult things—church conflicts, financial stress, people problems—they spoke in Pidgin English. The national language of PNG.

My brother and I couldn’t understand it.

So we never heard them criticize. Never heard them complain. Never absorbed the bitterness that comes from ministry disappointment.

But we did hear our mother praying for us every morning. Clear. Loud. Passionate. Interceding over our lives. Declaring God’s purposes. Blessing our futures.

My mother, Lorraine Evans, was the greatest person of character I ever knew. She went home to be with Jesus in 2011, but what she deposited in me has never left. She didn’t just pray for us — I would hear her as a teenager, her voice carrying through the house, interceding over our lives with a clarity and passion that I have never forgotten. She prayed every single day. Not occasionally. Every day.

My father brought faith. My mother brought godliness. He built with vision. She built with consistency, honesty, and a love for the church that was completely unshakeable. She gave me the character to survive the distance — the long seasons, the betrayals, the barren years. When I trace back my greatest character trait — honesty — I trace it back to her.

That’s what mothers do. They build things in you that only show up decades later, when everything is on the line.

So we grew up hearing prayers more than problems. Blessing more than bitterness. Hope more than hurt.

That’s generational multiplication.

My parents gave me a template. Jane and I adapted it. Different methods. Same result. No resentment.

Before I tell you what we did, you need to understand what we didn’t do.

Because most PKs don’t leave because they lost their faith. They leave because they resent the faith.

They watched their parents sacrifice family for “ministry.” They watched Dad work eighty-hour weeks while other dads coached Little League. They watched him miss games, recitals, birthdays because someone at church needed him. They saw him come home exhausted, frustrated, wounded. They heard the complaints about “ungrateful people” at the dinner table. They witnessed the fights about money, staff, building projects. They saw the smile at church on Sunday and the collapse at home on Monday.

The kids saw the cost. And they decided: not worth it.

Here’s what breaks my heart.

Most of these parents think they’re modeling sacrifice. Showing their kids what it means to “lay down your life” for the gospel.

But the kids aren’t learning sacrifice. They’re learning resentment.

Because sacrifice is beautiful when it’s voluntary. But it’s toxic when it’s forced.

And when kids watch their parents sacrifice them for other people’s kids? For church members who complain? For a congregation that doesn’t appreciate the cost?

That’s not beautiful sacrifice. That’s abandonment wrapped in spiritual language.

So the kids grow up thinking, God took my dad. The church stole my mom. Ministry destroyed our family.

And they want nothing to do with it.

We were determined not to be part of that statistic.

THE ANTI-RESENTMENT FRAMEWORK

Jane and I made a decision early. Our kids would never resent

ministry.

Not because we hid the cost. We didn’t. Not because we pretended it was easy. It wasn’t.

Because we built an environment where ministry was a blessing, not a burden.

Here’s how we did it.

Principle 1: Conflicts Stayed Private

Kids never saw us arguing. Maybe three times in thirty years.

Not because we didn’t disagree. We did. Often. But we fought behind closed doors.

Why? Because kids don’t have the emotional capacity to process their parents’ conflicts. When they see Mom and Dad fighting, their world becomes unstable. Unsafe. Scary.

And if those fights are about church? About ministry? About people at church? The kid’s brain makes simple connections: Church equals conflict. Ministry equals fighting. God’s work equals pain in my home.

So we never fought in front of them. When we disagreed, we went to our room. Closed the door. Worked it out. Sometimes it took five minutes. Sometimes five hours. But we didn’t come out until it was resolved.

The kids saw unity, not division. Partnership, not combat. A team working together, not two people tearing each other apart.

Principle 2: The Twenty-Four-Hour Resolution Rule

The rule was simple: twenty-four hours to begin the conversation.

We didn’t let things fester. We didn’t go to bed angry and wake up angrier. We dealt with it. Talked it through. Found resolution.

Sometimes that meant one of us apologizing. Sometimes that meant both of us apologizing. Sometimes that meant agreeing to disagree and choosing the mission over our egos.

But we never let a conflict sit unresolved for days, weeks, months. Because unresolved conflict becomes resentment. And resentment is cancer in a marriage. Especially a ministry marriage.

The twenty-four-hour rule forced us to deal with things instead of burying them. And it modeled for our kids what healthy conflict resolution looks like.

You can disagree. You can argue. You can be upset. But you resolve it. Quickly. Decisively. Completely.

That’s what they watched. And that’s what they’re replicating in their own marriages today.

*A note on this: The twenty-four-hour rule is about connection, not

compliance. When I say we resolved conflict within twenty-four hours,

I don’t mean we forced a fake agreement just to meet a deadline.

Sometimes, big issues take weeks to fully solve. The rule wasn’t “We

must agree by midnight.” The rule was “We must be connected by

midnight.” We refused to go to sleep as enemies. We might say, “We

still disagree on this decision, and we will talk more tomorrow, but I

love you, I am for you, and we are okay.” We prioritized the

relationship over the resolution. The goal isn’t to force peace; the

goal is to prevent the enemy from getting a foothold through prolonged

silence and separation.*

Principle 3: Parental Humility

I apologized to my kids when I did something wrong.

Not because I had to. Because I wanted them to see that leaders aren’t perfect. That dads make mistakes. That authority doesn’t mean infallibility.

When I lost my temper, I apologized. When I broke a promise, I apologized. When I was too busy, too distracted, too focused on church, and not focused enough on them, I apologized.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

You know what that does for a kid? It shows them that humility is strength, not weakness. That leaders own their mistakes instead of blaming others. That repentance isn’t just something you preach— it’s something you live.

And it keeps resentment from building. Because when a parent apologizes, the kid can forgive and move on. But when a parent never admits they’re wrong? Never apologizes? Never acknowledges the hurt they caused? The kid buries it. And it becomes a wound. And wounds become resentment.

I wasn’t a perfect dad. But I was a fairly humble dad. And that made all the difference.

*A note on apology frequency: I didn’t use apology as a way to excuse

bad behavior. If you’re constantly apologizing for the same things,

you undermine your authority and their trust in you. Every apology

should come with genuine change—otherwise it’s just words. At the

same time, a lot of parents find it hard to ever apologize properly.

My dad never apologized to me in his life. As an adult, it became

obvious that this was not a strength but a weakness that undermined

trust. So I determined to change this for my kids. The balance is

this: apologize whenever you’re genuinely wrong, but if you find

yourself apologizing constantly for the same patterns, that’s a signal

to examine and change the behavior, not just the words.*

Principle 4: Church Business Stayed at Church

We didn’t discuss church business in front of the kids. Not the conflicts. Not the finances. Not the staff drama. Not the people problems.

When someone at church hurt us, we didn’t come home and vent about it at the dinner table. When we had to fire a staff member, we didn’t process it in front of the kids. When the offering was down, we didn’t panic about money where they could hear.

Church business stayed at church. Home was home. A sanctuary. A refuge. A place where ministry pressure didn’t dominate the conversation.

Why? Because kids are sponges. They absorb everything. And when they hear their parents constantly talking about church problems, they start to associate church with problems. Ministry becomes the thing that stresses Mom and Dad out. The thing that causes anxiety. The thing that steals joy.

So we protected them from that. We talked about church business with each other. Behind closed doors. In the car on the way home. Late at night, after they were asleep. But not in front of them.

They got to see the joy of ministry. The fruit. The breakthrough.

The victories. Not the grind. The disappointment. The betrayal.

Principle 5: No Criticism of People

We never criticized pastors, staff, or congregation in front of the kids. Ever.

Even when people hurt us. Even when they were wrong. Even when they deserved criticism. We didn’t badmouth them in front of our kids.

Ministry isn’t about perfect people. It’s about faithful people who

keep loving imperfect people.

Why? Because kids are concrete thinkers. When they hear you criticize someone, they don’t think, Dad’s processing a complex relational dynamic. They think, That person is bad. Church people are bad. Ministry people can’t be trusted. And resentment builds.

So we kept our mouths shut. We processed our hurt with each other. With trusted mentors. With God. But not with our kids.

They saw us honor people even when those people didn’t honor us. They saw us bless people even when those people hurt us.

They saw us respond with grace even when we had every right to respond

with anger.

And that taught them that ministry isn’t about perfect people.

It’s about faithful people who keep loving imperfect people.

Principle 6: Daily Affirmation of Love

We told our kids every single day how much we loved them. Not just “I love you” in passing. But intentional affirmation.

“I’m so proud of you.” “You’re going to do great things for God.”

“I love being your dad.” “You’re such a gift to our family.” Every. Single. Day.

Why? Because kids need to know they’re a priority. Not an interruption. Not a distraction. Not something we fit in between church events. A priority.

And when they feel loved, valued, seen—they don’t resent the time you spend on ministry. Because they know they matter more.

Principle 7: Emotional Safety

We went into their rooms every night to talk about their feelings. Not to lecture. Not to preach. Not to correct. To listen.

When they didn’t want to go to sleep and wanted to talk, we talked. About their day. Their struggles. Their fears. Their dreams.

We taught them to communicate their feelings instead of burying them. And we created an environment where it was safe to share. Safe to be vulnerable. Safe to admit when they were struggling. Safe to process hard things.

We also prayed with them. Not just for them—with them. So they saw prayer as conversation with God, not religious obligation.

They grew up hearing us pray with them about their lives, their futures, their callings. And that created a foundation.

They knew: Mom and Dad are safe. Home is safe. God is safe.

And that safety is what allowed them to embrace ministry instead of resenting it.

THE ENVIRONMENT CREATORS

The seven principles created the foundation. But we didn’t stop there.

We built an environment where ministry was associated with joy, not sacrifice. We constantly created positive associations.

Here’s what we did.

Positive Associations Everywhere

After church every Sunday, we went to a fast-food place. McDonald’s. Burger King. Wherever the kids wanted. We made it a treat. Church wasn’t drudgery. It wasn’t obligation. It wasn’t the thing that stole our Sundays. It was the gateway to something fun.

The kids associated church with French fries, Happy Meals, time with Mom and Dad. And that simple pattern—repeated week after week—created a positive association. Church equals fun. Sunday equals family time. Ministry equals blessing.

When I traveled to preach, I took the kids as often as practical. When Jane and I went to conferences, we brought them. They learned how to be in the presence of the Lord sleeping under chairs in the back of auditoriums. They grew up in a spiritual atmosphere. Not isolated from ministry. Immersed in it.

But here’s the key: We didn’t make them perform. We didn’t make them be “pastor’s kids” who had to behave perfectly and impress everyone. We just let them be there. Soaking it in. Absorbing the environment. Watching God move.

And they learned that God’s presence is normal. That worship is natural. That miracles happen. That people encounter God. They didn’t just hear about it. They saw it.

We took incredible family vacations. Not cheap. Not short. Fantastic holidays for the age they were at. The boys still talk about them. And we still do them.

Why? Because we wanted them to know that serving God comes with favor. That God blesses His people. That ministry isn’t poverty and sacrifice and “doing without.” It’s abundance and blessing and “God takes care of His own.”

We didn’t apologize for God’s blessing. We celebrated it. And we made sure the kids experienced it.

*A note on this: We had to make choices. Would we have a better house

or car, or would we build memories in our children that would make it

easier for them to follow Jesus? We chose the latter. That comes with

a cost, too, but the benefits easily outweighed the cost over time.*

Strategic Friend Selection

We selected their friends with them. Not for them. With them.

We talked about who they were hanging out with. Who they were influenced by. Who was shaping their thinking. And we guided them toward good friends. Friends whose parents loved God. Friends who were headed somewhere. Friends who would sharpen them, not dull them.

We didn’t control it. We didn’t forbid friendships. But we were involved. We knew their friends. We talked about their friends. We helped them evaluate their friends. And that protected them from influences that could have derailed them.

In their teenage years, we saved up and bought a boat. Why? So our house would be the house all the teens wanted to come to. We went water skiing on the river. The kids’ friends came with us. Our home became the hub. The cool place. The fun place. The place where good kids gathered.

And that meant we had access to our kids’ world. We weren’t guessing what they were doing. We saw it. We weren’t wondering who they were with. They were with us. And the friends who came to our house? We influenced them too.

Pretty much every weekend, other good teenagers stayed at our house. Friends. Youth group kids. Good kids who needed a safe place. Our home was open. Not because we had to. Because we wanted to.

We wanted influence. We wanted access. We wanted to know what was happening in our kids’ world. And the best way to do that? Make your home the place where kids want to be.

Half of the campus pastors in Australia spent years in our home as teenagers, as friends of Mark and then of Nate. And these friends went on to become world changers themselves. At a recent celebration, they all mentioned those years in our home. And confirmed that it was life-changing.

Celebrate Every Miracle

Whenever God blessed us—someone gave us money, a need was met, a breakthrough happened—we brought the boys together and celebrated.

We didn’t just thank God privately. We made it a moment. “Look what God did! He provided! He came through! He’s faithful!”

The kids watched us celebrate God’s faithfulness repeatedly. And they learned: God is real. God is active in our lives. God keeps His promises. Ministry isn’t dry religion. It’s relationship with a God who shows up.

The Circle of Encouragement

Every Christmas. Every Thanksgiving. Every birthday. We gathered in a circle.

And we went around—each person speaking life and encouragement into the birthday person’s heart. Not generic. Not shallow. Specific.

“Here’s what I see in you.\” “Here’s what God is doing in your life.” “Here’s what I’m proud of.” “Here’s what I believe about your future.” The kids grew up hearing blessing. Not criticism. Not correction. Blessing. And that created an environment of affirmation instead of performance.

Open Dialogue Culture

We created an environment where the kids could tell us what was bugging them. No topic off limits. No question too hard. No feeling too messy.

They could come to us with anything. And we wouldn’t freak out. Wouldn’t shut them down. Wouldn’t condemn. We’d listen. And then we’d help them process it.

That open dialogue kept secrets from festering. Kept questions from becoming doubts. Kept struggles from becoming strongholds.

They knew they could talk to us about anything. And that trust— built over years of open, safe conversations—is what kept them close.

THE DEVELOPMENT SYSTEM

We didn’t just create a safe environment. We developed them.

Intentionally. Strategically. Systematically.

Here’s how.

Dynamic Rules

We kept rules tight when they were young. Then reduced rules as they got older. But we kept high standards on the rules that remained.

We were the accelerator and the brake. Knowing when to give freedom. Knowing when to pull back.

That’s the art of parenting. Too many rules? You create rebels. Too few rules? You create chaos. The right rules at the right time? You create responsibility.

We adjusted the rules as they matured. Gave them more freedom as they proved they could handle it. But we never lowered the standard. High character. High integrity. High responsibility. That was non-negotiable.

Brought in Mentors

When the boys were eleven and twelve, I asked youth leaders to take them under their wing. Both Mark and Nate had mentors. Older guys. Good guys. Leaders in the youth ministry.

One of those leaders didn’t make it in ministry. He opted out. But before he left, our boys had an encounter with God because of him. They learned from him. Were influenced by him. Benefited from his investment.

So even a “failed” mentor can have lasting impact. The point wasn’t perfection. The point was exposure. Exposure to different leadership styles. Different voices. Different perspectives.

We didn’t want the boys only learning from us. We wanted them learning from a community of leaders.

Positioned for Encounters

We had a goal: five significant encounters with God before age eighteen.

Why five? To absolutely make sure. God has no grandchildren.

Our kids needed their own experiences with God. Not ours. Theirs.

So we didn’t push them. We positioned them.

We had conversations that created hunger. We sent them to camps and conferences where God was moving. We prayed for them. Over them. With them.

And God did what God does. He met them.

*A note on timing: God’s timeline isn’t always our timeline. Some kids

encounter God early and dramatically. Others take longer. The

positioning still matters even if the encounters don’t happen on your

schedule. Your job is to create the conditions. God’s job is to show

up. Trust the process even when you can’t see the results yet.*

MARK’S STORY

Mark is deeply sensitive to the spirit world. From the time he was

young, God spoke to him. Not at big meetings. Not at conferences. In

his bedroom.

At age five, he had his first encounter with God in kid’s church. At age eight, he was reading his Bible. Book of Revelation. He came out to Jane with tears running down his face. “God spoke to me.” Profound. Deep. Real.

Throughout his life, Mark has had these encounters. God speaks to him. Directly. Clearly.

At age fifteen, God gave him a vision. World Church. He kept talking to me about it. “Dad, I’m supposed to work with you. I’m supposed to help launch World Church.” From fifteen years old, he believed it. And that vision grew. And grew. And grew.

But here’s what most people don’t know. Mark’s gifts weren’t recognized by his leaders. He was on the setup team for years. Chairs. Sound. Lights. Didn’t progress. Didn’t get promoted. Wasn’t developed.

And it would have been easy for him to get bitter. To resent the leaders who didn’t see his potential. To walk away.

But we talked about it. Often. I told him what helped me when I was growing up: “Promotion doesn’t come from the east or the west. It comes from God” (Psalm 75:6-7).

Keep a good spirit. Keep serving faithfully. Keep honoring leadership even when they don’t honor you. God will promote you in His timing.

Mark showed endurance. Stickability. Despite his gifts not being recognized. Despite years on the setup team. He kept serving. Kept faithful. Kept believing.

And today? He’s responsible for so many of the amazing world-class leaders we have in our church family. Many of the greatest leaders in our movement? Mark trained them. And his passion and conviction discipled them to stay and grow and excel.

And they have stayed. They’re not leaving like the seven who left in 2007. They’re multiplying.

World Church isn’t a dream anymore. It’s happening. And it’s happening because a fifteen-year-old boy heard from God in his bedroom and believed it. Even when nobody else did.

NATE’S STORY

Nate is different from Mark. Less mystical. More practical.

He encountered God at youth camps over several years. Then again at Bible college. Each time, God met him. Touched him. Changed him.

He also had a youth leader mentor at eleven and twelve. But he also had his older brother guide him towards Jesus. Nate would have no idea that his older brother would be a big reason he is who he is today. Mark and I strategized on how to position Nate so he could encounter God.

My theory is this: The oldest son wants to be like Dad, so Dad has a massive influence. The second son wants to be like his older brother. My strategy: if I can get the older brother saved, he will help me get his younger brother saved. It worked.

And today, Nate is pastoring. Growing significantly. Multiplying leaders. Building what God called him to build.

He didn’t have the same kind of bedroom encounters as Mark. But he had camp encounters. Bible college encounters. Different process. Same result. A son who loves God. Loves ministry. Loves people. And is multiplying the vision.

BENJAMIN’S STORY

Benjamin is also a thinker. When he was in university, he had

questions about his faith. Not doubts. Questions. He needed to

experience God, not just believe intellectually.

I was praying about it. And God said, Send him to the youth camp in Australia.

I broached the idea with Ben. We chatted. Over a few weeks, he decided to go.

He was revolutionized at that camp. Baptized in the Holy Spirit. Encounter after encounter with God.

The following year, he did a six-month internship in Australia. And today? He’s a youth pastor. Leading. Multiplying. Raising up the next generation.

But here’s the key: We didn’t push him. We positioned him. We had conversations. We prayed. We suggested the camp. But he chose to go. And God did the rest.

WORKING UNDER OTHER LEADERS

We made all three boys work under other leaders. We didn’t protect

them from leaders who didn’t treat them well. And they weren’t always

treated well.

There’s a bias against pastors’ kids. People assume they’re entitled. Spoiled. Getting special treatment because of who their dad is. So sometimes they get the opposite. Overlooked. Undervalued. Not developed.

And we let it happen. Why? Because they needed to learn how to respond when leaders don’t recognize their gifts. When they’re not appreciated. When they’re serving faithfully, and nobody notices.

We taught them: Keep a good spirit. Trust God, not people, for your promotion. Honor leadership even when leadership doesn’t honor you. Serve with excellence even when nobody’s watching.

And here’s what that produced: Three sons who don’t need recognition to stay faithful. Who don’t need appreciation to keep serving. Who aren’t motivated by titles or position. They’re motivated by calling. And that makes them unstoppable.

THE DEBRIEF PROCESS

Whenever the boys fell out with a leader or one of their friends, we

knew instantly. Because they carried their hearts in a way we could

read.

So we’d take them aside. Find out who had offended them. Talk it through. Listen to their stories.

And here’s the process we followed:

Step 1: Empathy first. We didn’t start with correction. We started with empathy. “That wasn’t fair.” “I can see why you’re hurt.” “You have every right to feel that way.” Validation first.

Step 2: Listen. We let them tell the whole story. No interrupting. No correcting. No fixing. Just listening.

Step 3: Transition. About fifteen minutes in, once they felt heard, we’d start to move the conversation. “Okay. So what do we do now?” Not dismissing their hurt. But moving them toward response.

Step 4: Bigger picture. We’d help them see beyond the moment. “This leader doesn’t define your future.” “This situation is teaching you something you’ll need later.” “God’s using this to build something in you.”

Step 5: Validation. We’d acknowledge it wasn’t fair. We didn’t gaslight them. We didn’t minimize their hurt. We validated it.

Step 6: Support. “If you need me to step in, I will.” “If you need help navigating this, I’m here.” We offered support without rescuing them.

Step 7: Spiritual lens. “Where is God in this?””What is He teaching you?” “How do you want to respond?” We showed them God in everything they were encountering. Not just the good things. Everything.

And here’s what that process did: It taught them to process conflict with wisdom instead of emotion. To see God’s hand in hard situations. To respond with grace instead of bitterness.

And that’s why they’re not wounded. They went through hard things. But they’re not carrying wounds. Because we helped them process instead of just endure.

THE REBELLION PHILOSOPHY

All three boys had rebellious moments. And we were half pleased.

Why? Because we believe: If kids don’t rebel in their teens, they will in their twenties. Better to work through it while we still had influence. Better to coach them through rebellion at home than watch them implode after they leave.

So when they pushed back, we didn’t panic. When they questioned, we didn’t shut them down. When they tested boundaries, we held firm but gave them space to work through it.

If your ministry succeeds and your family fails, you haven’t

succeeded.

And they got it out of their system. While we were still there to guide them through it.

Now they’re in their twenties and thirties. And they’re not rebelling. Because they already did. And we helped them process it. And now they’re free to pursue their calling without the baggage that comes from unprocessed rebellion.

The results?

Three for three.

Mark—training the next generation. World Church becoming reality.

Nate—pastoring, growing, multiplying.

Benjamin—youth pastor, revolutionized by God.

All three in ministry. Two married to women who are in ministry with them, replicating the multiplication marriage they watched growing up and raising their kids with the same principles.

Seven grandchildren now. The next generation. Being raised the same way.

And I’m watching it multiply. Not just in our sons. But in the leaders our sons are raising. The pattern is replicating. The DNA is transferring. The multiplication is accelerating.

THE BOTTOM LINE

If your ministry succeeds and your family fails, you haven’t

succeeded. You’ve built on sand. And when the storm comes—and it

will come—everything will collapse.

But if you multiply at home first? If you raise kids who love God and love people? If you create a generation that chooses to continue what you started?

That’s legacy. That’s multiplication. That’s winning.

Mark. Nate. Benjamin. Three for three.

Not because we were perfect parents. Because we were desperate parents who clung to God and did everything we knew to do. We built an anti-resentment environment. We created a personal development system. We positioned them for encounters with God. We debriefed them through hard moments. We made ministry a blessing, not a burden.

And they chose it. Not because we forced them. Because they saw it work. They experienced God’s goodness. They watched a multiplication marriage. They felt loved, valued, prioritized. And they wanted what we had.

That’s the goal. Not compliance. Desire. Not obligation. Calling. Not “because Dad said so.” Because “I’ve encountered God, and I want to spend my life serving Him.” Three for three.

You can do this too. But you have to start at home.

Multiply at home first. Then watch it multiply everywhere else.

Multiply or die.

A Word to the Parent of a Prodigal

I need to be honest with you.

I’m writing this as a father whose sons stayed. All three of them. In ministry. By choice.

But I know many of you reading this have a different story. Your son left. Your daughter walked away. They’re not just absent from ministry—they’re absent from faith. Maybe absent from your life.

You might be reading this chapter with a heavy chest. Wondering if it’s too late. Feeling like you already failed. Like the statistics already claimed your family.

Let me look you in the eye: the story isn’t over.

My story is about prevention. But God is the master of redemption.

Before I tell you how to bring them back, let me tell you one of the biggest secrets to why mine stayed.

It wasn’t perfect parenting. We made plenty of mistakes.

As I mentioned before, it was our willingness to apologize.

I began studying repentance. Really studying it. Not just as a theological concept for salvation, but as a relational practice. And I discovered something that changed everything: Repentance is the key to healing. Not just between us and God. Between us and our children.

So we started apologizing. To our kids. When we were wrong. When we overreacted. When we prioritized ministry over them. When we spoke harshly. When we weren’t present. When we made decisions that hurt them.

We didn’t wait for them to bring it up. We didn’t minimize it. We didn’t defend ourselves.

We just said: “I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

And if they did bring it up, we would listen as objectively as we could, and we would apologize to them and then thank them for bringing it to our attention so we could change, and change we have. We have made many pivots as our kids have grown, gotten married, and had kids.

Apologies keep you relevant in your kids’ lives.

If they left with resentment, you cannot just “wait” for them to return. Waiting is passive. Reconciliation is active.

You must build a bridge. And that bridge is built on one thing: apology.

The first place you must start is humility. Not the humility that says, “I could have done better.” The humility that says, “I was wrong.”

You need to go to them—not as the pastor, not as the spiritual authority, not as the parent who was “doing their best”—but as a broken human who failed someone they love.

And you need to ask for forgiveness.

Not: “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Not: “I’m sorry, but I was doing it for God.” Not: “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

No. You need to say: “I was wrong. I prioritized the ministry over you. I made you sacrifice for a calling you didn’t choose. I wasn’t there when you needed me. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” Own it. Completely. Without qualification.

Here’s the truth you need to hear: They probably won’t forgive you straight away.

They didn’t leave in a moment. They won’t return in a moment. Resentment is a wall built brick by brick over years. You cannot tear it down with one conversation.

When you apologize, they might vent. They might reject it. They might bring up old wounds you forgot about. Things you didn’t even realize hurt them.

Take it. Absorb the pain. Don’t defend yourself. Don’t quote Scripture at them. Don’t explain why you made the choices you made. Just listen.

Your apology is not a magic wand. It’s the start of a process. It signals to them that the rules of engagement have changed. It shows them that you value the relationship more than your reputation. More than being right. More than your ministry legacy.

You can’t force them back. But by humbly owning your part, you begin to detoxify the soil. You remove fuel from their fire. You crack open a door that resentment had sealed shut.

Start the process today.

Write the letter. Make the call. Send the text. Own the mistake.

And then wait with open arms. For as long as it takes.

Because here’s what I’ve learned after forty years of ministry:

God is not finished with your family.

Prevention is better than repair. But repair is absolutely possible.

And sometimes, the children who come back wounded become the ones who multiply the farthest—because they understand grace in a way the rest of us never will.

Don’t give up on them. God hasn’t.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Research from Barna Group and Lifeway Research confirms that 66-75

percent of young adults who grew up in church disengage after high

school. For pastors’ kids specifically, 40 percent go through periods

of significant doubt, and 33 percent are no longer actively involved

in church. Most PKs don’t leave because they lost their faith. They

leave because they resent the faith. They got the overflow of

frustration, criticism, and resentment. And they decided: not worth

it. Sacrifice is beautiful when voluntary. Toxic when forced. You

can’t give away what you haven’t built at home. You can’t multiply

leaders in the church if you’re producing resentment in your kids.

The Shift:

There were seasons where we thought we might lose our kids to God’s

kingdom. Dark seasons. Desperate seasons. We weren’t confident parents

gliding through with a perfect formula. We were desperate parents

clinging to God. So if you’re in one of those seasons—don’t lose

heart. And don’t compromise. Up the positivity. Up the authenticity.

Up the emotional vulnerability. Double down on the love. You’ll be

amazed at how God uses that to change things. Build an anti-resentment

environment through seven principles. Create positive associations

everywhere. Build a personal development system with mentors,

encounters, and debriefing. Our sons didn’t choose ministry because we

had it all figured out. They chose it because they watched us figure

it out—imperfectly, desperately, authentically.

The Audit:

Are your kids getting the overflow? Do they hear more prayers or

problems? More blessing or bitterness? If your children have already

left, the story isn’t over. God is the master of redemption. The

bridge back is built on apology—genuine, complete, without

qualification. Write the letter. Make the call. Own the mistake. Then

wait with open arms. Prevention is better than repair. But repair is

absolutely possible. And sometimes, the children who come back wounded

become the ones who multiply the farthest—because they understand

grace in a way the rest of us never will. Don’t give up on them. God

hasn’t.

Chapter 12

Absalom, Judas, and You

HOW TO KEEP YOUR

HEART SWEET WHEN PEOPLE BETRAY YOU

If you lead long enough, betrayal is almost inevitable.

In forty years of ministry, I don’t know a single leader who has been spared. The ones you poured into. The ones you loved. The ones you treated like sons and daughters. The ones you thought would carry your casket.

Some will betray.

It’s not a question of if. For most of us, it’s when.

And when it happens, how you handle their betrayal determines whether you multiply or get bitter.

Let me tell you about two times it happened to me.

THE PHONE CALL

August night. Atlanta. Warm.

I was standing in the garden out front. About 6 p.m. Just finished dinner.

My phone rang. Australia number. One of my key leaders back home.

The man I’d put in charge of the Australian campus while I pioneered in America.

“Pastor Ashley, I need to talk to you.”

His voice was calm. Professional. But something was wrong.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve been unrighteous.”

I’ll never forget those words. “I’ve been unrighteous.” Strange

phrase. Unusual. Old-fashioned almost.

But the choice of words made me think: God has convicted him about something.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Silence.

Then: “I’ve been meeting with board members. They want me to take the church.”

The words hit like a fist to the stomach.

Anger surged. Then numbness. Then both at once.

Board members. Plural.

Not one rogue person. Multiple people. Courted. Convinced. Recruited.

A conspiracy. A coup. A calculated plan to try and remove me and install him.

And I was 9,000 miles away, setting up chairs in a school gymnasium in America.

“How long has this been going on?” I asked.

“A few months.”

Months. He’d been living a double life. Giving gifts to board members. Currying favor with their families. Building a coalition while I was building America.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you.”

My mind raced. Fire him. Expose him. Call the board. Fly back tonight.

But something stopped me.

The tone of his voice. The choice of words. “I’ve been unrighteous.”

This wasn’t defiance. This was confession.

God had gotten to him.

“Don’t do anything else,” I said. “Keep this between you and me.

I’ll write to you.” “Okay.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll figure this out.” The call ended.

I stood in the garden. Phone in my hand. Heart pounding.

We’d only been in America nine months. Nine months of grinding. Building from scratch. Seventy people in a side room at a convention center.

And back home, the church I’d built for decades was being stolen.

THE DREAM

The next day, I told my son Mark.

Not Jane. I didn’t want to put that pressure on her. Not yet.

But Mark needed to know.

“We’ve got a situation in Australia,” I said.

I told him about the phone call. The plot. The board members.

The confession.

Mark listened. Calm. No panic in his eyes.

“Dad,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

He could tell it had rocked me even though I was keeping my voice steady.

“God gave me a dream about this. Nine months ago.”

“What?”

“You remember the storeroom? The one upstairs under the balcony? Across from your office?”

I knew exactly where he meant. Small room. Storage. Near all the pastoral offices.

“Yeah.”

“In the dream, I was in that room. The whole board was there.

They all had flashlights in their hands.”

“Flashlights?”

“There was a vote being taken. To see who the senior pastor would be. You or the guy you put in charge.” My chest tightened.

“The deal was,” Mark continued, “if they turned their flashlight on and put it in the bucket in front of them, that was a vote for you.

If they left it off, that was a vote against you.”

“And?”

“One by one, they turned their flashlights on. Every single one.

Unanimous.” He paused.

“You remained the pastor. Unanimously.” I sat back.

Relief. Chills. Confirmation. All at once.

Nine months ago, God had shown Mark the ending before the plot even started.

God already knew. God had already decided. God had already won.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the dream before?” I asked.

“I did try to hint it to you, but I didn’t think it was the right

time.

But now it is.”

I had peace for the first time since the phone call.

The board would vote with their flashlights. And God had already shown Mark the result. Unanimous.

THE RESOLUTION

I made four phone calls.

Dad. My brother Russell. My lawyer, Philip. My personal assistant, Tina.

I told them what was happening.

Philip and Tina had suspected something. They’d seen it forming.

“There are definitely two teams,” Philip said. “Those loyal to you. And those he’s won over.”

The conspiracy had been building for months while I was 9,000 miles away.

My dad called me back later that day.

“Write to him,” Dad said. “Tell him how to make amends. How to leave properly.” So I did.

I wrote a letter. Clear. Direct.

“You’ve confessed. Now here’s how you restore integrity. Here’s how you exit with dignity. Here’s how you make this right.” To his credit, he did exactly what I asked.

He didn’t fight. He didn’t justify. He didn’t try and rally the board against me.

I think the confession shocked him as much as it shocked me. Once he said it out loud, he couldn’t unsay it.

And once God convicted him, he couldn’t keep living the double life.

But I needed to know how deep this had gone.

I booked a forty-eight-hour trip to Adelaide.

Talked to the individuals I suspected were part of the group. One by one. Face to face.

I wanted to know: How deep had the poison gone? How wide had it spread?

Thankfully, we’d caught it early enough. Everyone could backtrack. The damage was containable.

But I still needed an exit strategy for him. A way out that honored God and protected the church.

I believe that because he confessed, God made a way.

I was flying back to Australia to finish these board meetings when something remarkable happened.

Dallas International Airport. Boarding area.

I saw a familiar face. An old friend from Australia. We’d known each other for years.

“Ashley! What are you doing here?”

“Heading back to Australia. You?”

“Same.”

We ended up sitting together on the plane. Fourteen-hour flight.

Plenty of time to talk.

“How are things going?” I asked.

“Good. Great. God’s opening doors in a big way.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, but...” He paused. “I don’t know how to transition our church to someone else. I don’t have anyone who can take it. And

I can’t stay forever.”

The moment he said it, I knew.

This was the answer.

God had orchestrated a “chance” meeting at 30,000 feet to provide an exit for the man who’d tried to take our church.

“I might know someone,” I said.

I told him about the situation. Not all the details. Just enough.

He was open. Interested.

Keeping your heart sweet does not mean leaving the doors unlocked.

By the time we landed, I’d set up a Sunday service for him to preach at my friend’s church.

Within two weeks, the elders and board of that interstate church invited him to be their pastor.

God had provided a way for him. I blessed him as he left.

But I need to make a critical distinction here.

When I say I “blessed him as he left,” I am talking about the posture of my heart. I refused to let bitterness take root in my soul.

However, keeping your heart sweet does not mean leaving the doors unlocked.

While I was washing feet relationally, I was locking doors structurally. We have a board. We have a constitution. We have legal counsel. We have financial safeguards. When betrayal happened, I didn’t just pray; I activated our governance structures to protect the church’s assets and the people’s trust.

As a shepherd, you must be tender-hearted. As a steward, you must be tough-minded. I forgave the person, but I also ensured they could no longer access the bank accounts or the database. That isn’t bitterness; that is being a watchman. Do not confuse the two. You can bless the person while legally protecting the mission.

Forgiveness is personal. Governance is structural.

With the wisdom of a steward and the heart of grace, God protected our church for its greatest days.

Within weeks, the man was gone. Relocated. Properly.

The board? They stayed. Unanimous.

Just like the dream.

And Josh—the man God told me to invite onto the team six months earlier while I was on my fourth of seven seven-day water fasts—stepped in.

Not because I panicked and grabbed him.

But because God had been preparing him long before I knew I’d need him.

Josh told me later: He and his wife were convinced the answer was no. They weren’t supposed to come to Futures. Influencers had warned them against it.

But the night before we met—day six of my water fast—God spoke to them both.

“You have to say yes. Even though you don’t know why.” When we met,

they said yes.

And when the interim leader left a year later, Josh was already positioned. Already trained. Already trusted.

The man who believed he should be the senior pastor lasted one year.

Josh has now been leading Australia for over a decade. Three campuses became eight. Six thousand became over 10,000.

Not because I stayed.

Because I left. And because God prepared the right man before I even knew I needed him.

THE SECOND BETRAYAL

The worst betrayal came in America.

Young leader. Charismatic. Talented.

I raised him up. Worked alongside him. Gave him opportunities.

He was part of the reason the campus grew.

But somewhere along the way, pride took over. Insecurity.

Ambition.

He decided to leave and start a church up the road.

That’s fine. I’ve released dozens of people to plant churches.

How they leave is on them.

How I respond is on me.

But he didn’t just leave.

He deliberately tried to damage our church.

Secret meetings. Individual phone calls. One by one, he contacted people in our campus—people I had introduced him to—and recruited them to follow him.

He told them lies.

He told people I’d promised him a job only to give it to someone else.

He told people I tried to stop the Holy Spirit in services.

Two hundred people left to go with him. Another hundred left to go elsewhere because the betrayal had changed the church.

It was personal. It was painful. It felt like a knife in the back.

And his church? Failed within a few years. Gone. Only a few are there anymore.

It’s sad. Because he had potential. Because it didn’t have to end that way.

But here’s what I learned from that one:

How they leave is on them.

How I respond is on me.

He left poorly. Lied. Stole. Gossiped.

I still had to bless him.

Not out loud to him. He didn’t want my blessing.

But in my heart. In my prayers. In my refusal to let his betrayal turn me into someone bitter.

Because if I let him poison me, he wins twice.

Once by taking the people. Twice by taking my heart.

THE KISS IS INEVITABLE

Jesus had a Judas.

Think about that.

The perfect leader. The Son of God. The one who never made a mistake.

He still had a betrayer at His table.

If perfection couldn’t prevent betrayal, what makes you think you can?

But watch what Jesus did.

He knew Judas was going to betray Him. He knew the deal was made. He knew the kiss was coming.

And He washed Judas’s feet anyway.

John 13. The Last Supper. Jesus took a towel. Got on His knees. And washed the feet of the man who would sell Him for thirty pieces of silver.

That is the standard.

You must wash the feet of the ones who are about to kick you in the teeth.

Not because they deserve it.

But because bitterness will destroy you faster than their betrayal ever could.

THE ABSALOM AND THE JUDAS

I need to tell you something I didn’t understand for years.

Not every betrayer is a Judas.

Some are Absalom’s.

And if you don’t know the difference, you’ll handle them wrong. You’ll try to restore a destroyer. Or you’ll cut off someone God wanted you to help land softly.

The difference isn’t confession. It’s motive. Let me explain.

The Absalom Spirit

Absalom was David’s son. Handsome. Charismatic. Gifted.

And ambitious.

Second Samuel 15 tells us he would stand at the city gate and intercept people coming to see the king. He’d say things like: “Your claims are valid. It’s too bad the king doesn’t have time for you. If only I were judge, I’d give you justice.”

He stole hearts. Not through lies—through positioning.

He didn’t want to destroy his father. He wanted to replace him.

He thought he could do it better. Lead better. Rule better.

That’s the Absalom spirit. Ambition that poisons loyalty. A son who wants the father’s seat before the father is ready to give it.

The first leader—the one from Australia—had an Absalom spirit.

He wasn’t trying to destroy the church. He was trying to take the church because he thought he could lead it better.

He stood at the gate. He courted the board. He built a coalition.

That’s Absalom.

The Judas Spirit

Judas was different.

Judas wasn’t ambitious for Jesus’s seat. He wasn’t trying to lead the movement.

Judas was offended. Greedy. Looking for an exit.

John 12 tells us Judas complained about the expensive perfume poured on Jesus’s feet. Not because he cared about the poor—but because he was stealing from the money bag.

When the opportunity came, he didn’t just leave. He sold Jesus out for thirty pieces of silver.

He didn’t want to replace Jesus. He wanted to profit from His destruction.

That’s the Judas spirit. Offense that turns to sabotage. Greed that justifies betrayal. A heart that doesn’t just want to leave—it wants to burn the house down on the way out.

The second leader—the one in America—had a Judas spirit.

He recruited two hundred people. He poisoned another hundred.

He wanted destruction. That’s Judas.

The Biblical Difference

Look at the motives in Scripture.

Absalom wanted the throne. He believed he deserved it. He thought he’d be a better king than his father. His sin was unchecked ambition—but his goal was to build, not to burn.

Judas wanted thirty pieces of silver. He didn’t care what happened to Jesus or the movement. His sin was greed and offense—and his goal was personal profit, even if it meant destruction.

The motive determines the spirit.

An Absalom can land softly if they humble themselves.

Ambition to replace? Absalom.

Greed to destroy? Judas.

This matters because you respond differently to each.

An Absalom can be helped—if they’re willing.

Not restored to the same position. Absalom forfeited that the moment he began his coup.

But helped to exit with dignity. Given a path forward somewhere else.

That’s exactly what happened with the first leader. God orchestrated a “chance” meeting at 30,000 feet. Another church needed a pastor. I connected them. Within weeks, he was gone—quietly, properly, with a future.

An Absalom can land softly if they humble themselves.

But only if they humble themselves.

A Judas is different. There is no path back.

Not because God can’t forgive them. God can forgive anyone.

But because a Judas doesn’t want forgiveness. They want justification.

They don’t confess. They accuse.

They don’t repent. They recruit.

You can only do what Jesus did: wash their feet and let them go into the night.

If you don’t know the difference between an Absalom and a Judas, you’ll make one of two mistakes.

Mistake one: You’ll treat an Absalom like a Judas.

Someone makes a power play. Ambition gets the better of them. They get caught.

And you cut them off completely. No grace. No exit ramp. No path forward.

That’s not wisdom. That’s vengeance.

An Absalom who humbles themselves deserves a way out. Not the same position—but a future.

Mistake two: You’ll treat a Judas like an Absalom.

Someone betrays you. Lies about you. Tries to destroy what you’ve built.

And you keep trying to reconcile. Keep extending olive branches.

Keep hoping they’ll come around.

That’s not grace. That’s naivety.

A Judas has made their choice. You can pray for them. You can refuse bitterness. But you cannot restore them—because they don’t want restoration. They want destruction.

So how do you know which one you’re dealing with?

Look at the motive first. Are they trying to take or trying to destroy?

Then watch their response when confronted.

An Absalom, when convicted, will often humble themselves. They’ll acknowledge what they did. They may not fully repent—but they’ll stop fighting.

A Judas never stops. They justify. They blame. They spin. They recruit others to their cause.

Motive reveals the spirit. Response confirms it.

You can help an Absalom exit with dignity.

You can only release a Judas with grace.

Know the difference.

THE OPEN HAND POLICY

Here’s the leadership philosophy that saved my sanity:

Hold people with an open hand.

They don’t belong to you. They belong to God.

He lends them to you for a season. Maybe that season is three months. Maybe it’s thirty years.

But when the season is up, you have to let them go.

If you clench your fist, two things happen:

1) You crush the relationship.

2) Your hand isn’t open to receive who God is sending next.

When leaders leave—even badly—it creates a vacuum.

It hurts. It’s scary. You don’t know how you’ll fill the gaps.

But that vacuum creates space for the next generation.

If the old guard hadn’t left, the new guard couldn’t have risen.

The exodus was actually an upgrade.

But I couldn’t see it through my tears.

BLESSING THE EXIT

When someone tells me they’re leaving now, I have a response.

If they’re leaving well—honorably, with integrity, giving proper notice—I say this:

“Thank you. Thank you for the season you gave us. Thank you for your service. We bless you. We want you to win.” And I mean it.

Why?

Because the Kingdom is bigger than our organization.

If they leave our church and go serve another church, the Kingdom still wins.

And here’s the secret: I can’t control how they leave.

But I can control how I respond.

If they leave well? I bless them publicly. Celebrate them. Send them out with honor.

If they leave poorly? If they lie, steal, gossip, sabotage?

I still pray for them.

Not publicly. Not to their face if they don’t want it.

But in my heart. In my prayers. In my refusal to let their betrayal poison my soul.

Not because they deserve it.

But because I refuse to let bitterness abort what God is trying to birth.

Let me say this clearly:

Bitterness is an abortive force. It kills multiplication.

You cannot reproduce health if you’re carrying sickness.

Every leader who multiplies will face betrayal.

Some will have Absalom spirits—ambitious but salvageable if they humble themselves.

Some will leave honorably after good seasons.

Some will have Judas spirits—bent on destruction.

But all of them have one thing in common:

They’re testing whether you’re a multiplier or just someone who likes the idea of multiplication when it doesn’t cost anything.

True multipliers don’t just survive betrayal.

They embrace the pain.

They bless the exit.

They trust God to fill the vacuum.

And they watch the upgrade happen that they couldn’t have orchestrated themselves.

THE UPGRADE I COULDN’T SEE

Here’s what happened after the betrayals.

The church didn’t collapse.

It exploded.

We went from 6,000 people to 19,000 people.

From three campuses to twenty-one campuses.

From one country to four countries.

The Absalom leader is pastoring elsewhere. The Judas leader’s church failed.

But God used even their departures to position us for multiplication.

And I’m genuinely at peace.

Because I kept my spirit sweet. It genuinely hurt and killed me, but I didn’t get bitter.

THE BOTTOM LINE

Don’t build walls to keep people in.

Build a culture so healthy that they don’t want to leave.

But when they betray—and some will—bless them as they go.

I need to add a hard-learned lesson about our social media age: Sometimes you must correct lies publicly. It’s not my first choice—I’d rather bless quietly and move on. But in today’s environment, silence is often interpreted as guilt. When accusations spread online, no rebuttal looks like admission. I’ve had to adapt. Not to defend my ego, but to protect the church’s witness and give people the truth they need to make informed decisions.

Let them go.

Keep your spirit sweet.

And get ready for what God is sending next.

Because the best leaders aren’t the ones who never get betrayed.

They’re the ones who get betrayed, die, and then rise again and multiply.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

If you lead long enough, betrayal is almost inevitable. The ones you

poured into. The ones you loved. The ones you treated like sons and

daughters. Some will betray. And how you handle their betrayal

determines whether you multiply or get bitter. Jesus had a Judas. You

likely will too. And when it happens, the question isn’t that you were

betrayed. The question is: Can you rise again? Every leader must learn

to rise again. Betrayal is the tuition you pay for multiplication.

Without it, you can’t lead at scale.

The Discernment:

Not every betrayer is a Judas. Some have Absalom spirits. The

difference is motive. The Absalom spirit is ambition that poisons

loyalty—someone who wants to replace you because they think they can

do it better. The Judas spirit is offense that turns to

sabotage—someone who wants to profit from your destruction. Absalom

wanted the throne. Judas wanted thirty pieces of silver. You can help

an Absalom land softly if they humble themselves. You can only wash a

Judas’s feet and let them go into the night. Know the difference.

The Shift:

The phone call came from Australia. “I’ve been unrighteous. I’ve been

meeting with board members. They want me to take the church.” A

conspiracy. A coup. A calculated plan. But twelve months earlier, God

said, “Get Josh.” I resisted—we didn’t need him. But God insisted.

When the betrayal hit, Josh was already positioned. Within weeks, the

crisis resolved. Within years, Josh was leading all of Australia.

Multiplication exploded. God sees what you can’t see. He positions

people before you need them.

The Audit:

How will you respond when betrayal happens? Will you get bitter or

rise again? Are you listening when God tells you to position someone

you don’t think you need? Remember: Forgiveness is personal.

Governance is structural. You can bless the person while legally

protecting the mission. Keep your heart sweet. Don’t let bitterness

contaminate your multiplier. Rise again. Because the ones who betray

you don’t get to write your ending. God does.

Multiply or die.

Chapter 13

The Multiplier’s Laboratory

WHY THE BASEMENT

ALWAYS BEATS THE STAGE

I was twenty-five years old when my father said something that

should have changed my life.

We were standing in the church parking lot after a training session I’d led for young leaders. The kind of intensive workshop that leaves everyone exhausted and exhilarated. My dad had watched from the back, silent the entire time. As people filed out, still buzzing with energy, he walked over and said to me.

“In thirty years of ministry,” he said, “I’ve only seen two worldclass trainers.” He paused.

“You’re one of them.”

This was a man who’d built movements. Led thousands. That statement should have marked me. Should have defined my trajectory. Should have become my identity.

Instead, I filed it away as “nice but non-essential.”

Because at twenty-five, I wasn’t interested in being a trainer.

I was chasing what the world told me success looked like.

THE GIFT I DIDN’T WANT

For the next fifteen years I followed the herd. Chased what the

culture put in front of me. The platform gifts—the ones that made

audiences gasp and weep. Words of knowledge. Healing. Prophecy. The

spectacular demonstrations of power that drew crowds and built

reputations.

I wasn’t being proud. I was being practical.

Nobody applauds the trainer. Training happens in basements and back rooms. It’s slow. It’s invisible. It’s the work that happens when the crowd goes home and the lights go off.

So year after year, I watched other leaders operate in the gifts I wanted. Watched them call out strangers’ names. Watched sick people walk away healed. When is it going to be MY turn?

I wasn’t jealous of them. I was confused about me. Why would God give me a gift for training—something that felt so easy—and withhold the gifts that felt so important? It was like being handed a shovel when everyone else was getting swords. Now, it’s true I spoke at big conferences and had wonderful speaking opportunities at the most significant churches in our world, but the fruit of speaking was only personal. It didn’t really move the church forward.

Meanwhile, something remarkable was happening that I was too blind to see.

The young adults I trained in my father’s basement. Planting churches across nations. The students who came through my intensives? Becoming movement leaders. The people I’d invested in during those “unimportant” training sessions? Multiplying everything I’d given them.

Fifteen years of fruit I didn’t value because I was measuring with the wrong metric. I was so busy looking at the stage that I almost missed what was happening in the basement.

And the basement was producing the future of the church.

THE SURRENDER

I was thirty-nine when I made a deal with God.

Fifteen years of chasing the spectacular gifts. Fifteen years of watching other people operate in the very things I desperately wanted. I was honest with Him. Frustrated, even: “God, if You haven’t given me these gifts by my next birthday, I’ll accept that my gift is training, wisdom, and leadership.”

It felt like surrender. Like settling for second-best.

The year passed. Nothing changed. No sudden manifestation of healing power. No prophetic breakthrough. No miraculous demonstrations that would validate my decades of pursuit. Just... silence.

And in that silence, I heard something I’d been deaf to for fifteen years: Your greatest contribution isn’t what you do for the crowd. It’s what you multiply into the few.

That’s when I stopped running from my gift. And started running toward it.

Within a few years of that surrender, Futures Church started to experience multiplication. Today it has exploded from one location to twenty-one campuses across four countries. Not because I became a better preacher. Not because I finally got the spectacular gifts I’d chased. Because I finally embraced what I’d been given.

Teaching reaches crowds. Training creates multipliers. And multiplication beats addition every single time.

Here’s the fatal mistake most leaders make: They confuse teaching with training. And they’re not the same thing. Not even close.

Teaching is a classroom. It’s passive. You talk; they listen. They take notes. They nod along. They feel inspired. Teaching transfers information. But information doesn’t change behavior. Knowledge doesn’t create competence. Inspiration without implementation produces nothing but frustrated people who know what they should do but have no idea how to do it.

Training is a laboratory. It’s active. They participate. They practice. They fail in real-time and get corrected on the spot. Training creates transformation.

And transformation is hard to scale. You can’t train 5,000 people in a weekend. You can barely train twelve. But those twelve? They’ll change the world. Because they won’t just know what to do. They’ll be able to do it. And more able to teach someone else to do it.

Classroom transfers knowledge: laboratory creates competence.

Teaching fills heads; training changes lives.

WHAT JESUS KNEW ABOUT TRAINING

Picture the scene.

Five thousand people on a hillside. Pressing in. Demanding attention. Following Jesus everywhere He went. They wanted teaching. Healing. Miracles. More bread. More fish. More spectacular demonstrations of power.

Jesus did indeed minister to the crowds. He taught them. He healed them. He fed them. That public ministry was important—essential, even (Matthew 14:13-21; Mark 6:30-44; Luke 9:10-17; John 6:1-14).

But here’s what most people miss: Jesus spent the majority of His time with His disciples.

He could have built a teaching empire around that crowd. He could have scaled His impact through mass communication. Traveled from city to city as the star attraction. Taught stadium-sized crowds every day. Reached more people, touched more lives, created more immediate impact.

Instead, He chose twelve.

Mark 3:14 (emphasis added): “He appointed twelve that they might be WITH him.” Not “attend His seminars.” Not “listen to His podcasts.” Not “read His books.” With him.

If Jesus had only taught the crowds, Christianity would have died

within a generation.

Proximity. Time. Shared experience. Life-on-life development. Walking dusty roads together. Sleeping under the same stars. Eating the same meals. Watching Him navigate conflict, handle criticism, love enemies, confront evil. They saw how He prayed when nobody was watching. How He responded when the crowds rejected Him.

They didn’t just hear His teaching. They caught His DNA.

The crowds got teaching. The twelve got training.

And here’s the result: Acts 1:15 tells us that after Jesus ascended, there were 120 trained leaders gathered in the upper room. Not 5,000. Not the masses who’d been miraculously fed. One hundred twenty trained leaders.

Then Pentecost hit. The Spirit fell. Peter stood up—the same Peter who’d denied Jesus three times—and preached with the authority he’d caught through proximity. Three thousand people came to Christ in one day.

How? Because 120 trained leaders were ready to receive them. Disciple them. Develop them. Multiply them.

If Jesus had only taught the crowds, Christianity would have died within a generation. Because He trained the few, 2,000 years later, we’re still multiplying what Jesus trained into twelve men.

That’s the power of the laboratory.

THE CRISIS I DIDN’T SEE COMING

By the time I embraced my gift, we were growing fast. Too fast.

We had vision for two hundred. But vision without infrastructure is just a fantasy. And our infrastructure was Jane and me personally discovering and deploying every campus pastor.

We were the bottleneck.

I remember the day Jane said it out loud. We were driving home from a leadership intensive. Exhausted. Drained. Both of us feeling the weight of what we were trying to build.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she said.

She was right. We could personally train leaders to get us to five campuses. Maybe seven. But to get to twenty-one? A hundred? Two hundred? We needed a system.

Now, you might be reading this thinking, That’s great for someone with twenty-one campuses. I’ve got 300 people and I’m doing everything myself.

Here’s the truth: the bottleneck hit you earlier than it hit me.

If you’re a church of 200-500 and you’re exhausted, it’s not because you need more hours in the day. It’s because you haven’t built a laboratory. You’re still trying to personally develop every volunteer, personally shepherd every leader, personally carry every weight.

You don’t need twenty-one campuses to need a system. You need a system to get past 300.

Years later, when we were at twelve campuses, Jane walked into my office with that look. The one I’ve learned to recognize over forty years of marriage. The look that says: God spoke. And what He said is going to cost us everything.

“God asked me to birth another baby,” she said, “a leadership college. Government-accredited. Fully operational. In Australia and

America and then Indonesia, South America, Africa.”

The weight of what she was describing hit me immediately. Government accreditation means bureaucracy. Red tape. Educational standards. Curriculum development. It means years of work before you see any result.

Jane spent the next two years in the trenches of that build. While I traveled and preached and cast vision, she wrestled with accreditation boards. Rewrote curriculum to meet government standards. Hired faculty. Fought through setbacks and delays. She didn’t complain. Didn’t quit. Didn’t cut corners.

She just built.

And when Futures Leadership College opened its doors— government-accredited, fully operational, training leaders at scale—I learned something critical: The X-factor gets you started.

Infrastructure gets you to scale.

One leader can train dozens. A system can train thousands.

But here’s what I want you to hear: you don’t need a government-accredited college to build a system. You need a pathway. A monthly leadership night. A quarterly intensive. A simple curriculum that takes someone from “I just started volunteering” to “I’m ready to lead a team.” That’s your laboratory. Start there.

THE 5 I’S: WHAT TO TRANSFER

If you want to move from content provider to multiplier, you need to

know what to transfer. Not just information. Not just skills. Five

things that, when combined, create leaders who multiply.

Here’s the key: The 5 “I”s are the goals of every training meeting. Whether you’re meeting one-on-one with an emerging leader or gathering a group for discipleship, these five elements should be present. They tell you what you’re aiming for in each encounter.

After this section, we’ll dive into how to transfer these things through the P.A.I.D. system.

1\) INSPIRATION (The “Why”)

Vision is fuel. It keeps them going when the development process gets uncomfortable. When the feedback stings. When the assignment feels impossible.

Mark was a druggie when I met him. Broken. Hopeless. Con-

vinced his life was over before it started. I gave him a vision for

what God could do through him. Not a pep talk. Not positive thinking.

A vision. A picture of his future so compelling that it pulled him out

of his past.

Today, Mark leads one of our largest campuses.

You’ve got a Mark sitting in your church right now. Probably in the back row. Probably convinced they have nothing to offer. Your job is to see what they can’t see yet.

2) INFORMATION (The “What”)

You cannot multiply what you do not understand. Knowledge is the foundation. Theology. Principles. Frameworks. Systems. But information alone is empty. Necessary. But not sufficient.

3) IMPARTATION (The “Who”)

This is what most training programs miss.

You can’t teach character. You can’t lecture the X-factor. You can’t download spiritual DNA through a curriculum. Impartation is caught, not just taught. It requires proximity over time.

Jane learned to develop leaders by being with me. Watching how I spoke life into broken people. How I corrected without crushing. How I saw potential that others missed. She didn’t learn that from a book. She caught it by being close.

That’s why Jesus said “with Him.” Because some things can only transfer through proximity.

This is your advantage at 300 people. You can still be close to your emerging leaders. At 3,000, you can’t. Use this season. Let them shadow you. Bring them into the room. Let them watch you navigate the hard conversations.

4) INTERACTION (The “How”)

Supervised practice with immediate feedback.

You can’t learn to swim by reading a book about swimming. You have to get in the water. Fall. Flail. Swallow water. Get corrected. Try again.

Leadership is the same. Give them real assignments. With real consequences. And real-time feedback. That’s where transformation happens.

5) INVITATION (The “When”)

The official commissioning. The moment you publicly release them with authority.

Until you release them, they’re still trainees. Once you release them, they’re leaders. And leaders operate differently from trainees. The invitation is what transforms potential into performance.

THE P.A.I.D. SYSTEM: HOW TO TRANSFER IT

The 5 I’s tell you what to transfer. The P.A.I.D. System tells you

how.

Your job as a trainer is to pay your people in the only currency that matters to a leader: growth.

P—Provoke Growth

Comfort is the enemy of multiplication. Tension creates capacity. Your job as a trainer is to create positive tension that forces growth.

Now, let me be clear: the goal isn’t to make things hard for the sake of hard. It’s to create environments where character is revealed, and capacity is built. There’s a difference between healthy challenge and unnecessary hardship. Healthy challenge stretches people toward growth. Unnecessary hardship just breaks them.

A couple I know—let’s call them John and Jamie—looked like multipliers. They were leading a connect group. Strong attendance. Great energy. People loved being around them. Then we introduced a new expectation. We asked all connect group leaders to sign a commitment form. Basic accountability. Standard practice.

Nothing unreasonable.

The squeeze.

John and Jamie refused to sign. Not because the expectation was unreasonable. Because they didn’t want to be held accountable. They resigned from leadership. Years later, I heard their marriage fell apart.

And I realized something: The squeeze doesn’t create the crack. It reveals it. Whatever they were avoiding in leadership accountability was the same thing they were avoiding in their marriage. The crack was already there. The squeeze just exposed it.

That’s why I don’t look for the most “available” leader. I look for the one willing to be inconvenienced for the mission. Inconvenience separates the called from the merely interested.

And I hold volunteers to higher standards than staff. Volunteers don’t give their time for tasks. They give their time for meaning. If you don’t challenge them, you insult them.

A—Assign

No fake projects. Give them assignments with real consequences.

“You’re leading this group. If they don’t show up, that’s on you.”

Real responsibility. Real stakes. Real growth.

At a church of 300, this might look like: “You’re running the welcome team this Sunday. Own it. Brief the team. Debrief afterward. Tell me what you’d change.” That’s a real assignment. That’s the laboratory.

Easy assignments produce mediocre leaders. Impossible assignments produce multipliers.

I—Inspect Progress

Here’s a phrase that will change your training: If you’re not debriefing, you’re not developing.

In our movement, debriefing is automatic. After every event. Every meeting. Every assignment.

But let me add something important: Debriefing isn’t criticism. It’s collaborative reflection. The goal is growth, not perfection. If your people dread the debrief, you’re doing it wrong. They should leave feeling challenged and believed in—not beaten down.

Phil was our worship leader. Excellent musician. Great voice. Strong stage presence. But something was missing. He lacked spiritual authority. The kind of faith that makes things happen.

I mentored him. Challenged him. Debriefed him constantly. He didn’t grasp it.

Then a new person came on staff. Different energy. Real authority. After six months of watching both operate, I made a decision that most leaders wouldn’t make. I promoted the new person. And I demoted Phil.

Most people in Phil’s position would have quit. Phil stayed. He submitted to the debrief. Accepted the correction. Kept showing up. And he grew. Seven years later, Phil pastors one of our campuses. The man who could have left in offense became the man who leads hundreds.

Because leaders who receive feedback can sustain multiplication. Leaders who reject it? They might survive. But they’ll never multiply.

D—Deliver Recognition

Thirty years ago, I had to insist on being commissioned.

Without it, I would have been released into ministry without the blessing. Without the public commissioning. Without the weight of someone saying, “This is my son. I trust him. Follow him.”

And because I know what it feels like to have to fight for it, I make sure my leaders do.

God the Father could have introduced Jesus to the world in any way He chose. He chose coronation. Public. Audible. Unmistakable. “This is my Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17, 17:5; Mark 1:11; Luke 3:22, author paraphrase).

That’s the model. When we don’t commission publicly, we’re betting both ways. We’re hedging. We’re not fully trusting. And people can feel the difference.

Remember Phil? Seven years after his demotion, I knew it was time. I coronated him on stage. I anointed him in front of the church. Told the congregation I trusted him. Publicly blessed him and released him with authority.

What I didn’t expect was the visceral change in him from that day. Something shifted. Not in his skills—those had developed over seven years. But in his identity. In his posture. In the way he carried himself.

Coronation and commissioning did something that training alone couldn’t do. It released him.

You can do this at any size church. Call them up front. Lay hands on them. Tell your congregation, “This is someone I trust. When they speak, it’s as if I’m speaking.” Watch what happens to their posture the following week.

And the best recognition for a high performer? More responsibility. Don’t just praise them. Promote them.

THE PROOF: JANINE’S STORY

Remember Janine? Thirty years ago, she sat in my basement and took my

training course. Twenty-three years old. Young. Eager. Full of raw

potential but rough around the edges. She had fire but no focus.

Passion but no process. Desire but no discipline.

I saw something in her that she didn’t see in herself. So I started the work.

Over three decades, I’ve debriefed her dozens of times. Early on, some of those debriefs were painful. She’d get defensive. Make excuses. Deflect feedback. But she kept showing up. Kept submitting to the process. Kept growing through the discomfort.

I watched her transform from a passionate volunteer into a small group leader. From a small group leader into a ministry director. From a ministry director into a campus pastor.

A few years ago, I watched her brilliantly lead one of our largest campuses. Exceptional presentation. Deep theological understanding. Incredible pastoral care. Flawless execution.

When you can leave for six weeks, and the organization

doesn’t just survive but thrives, you’ve started moving from addition

to multiplication.

She’d become a super-leader. But not yet a super-multiplier.

I could see it. She was carrying the weight herself instead of multiplying leaders who could carry it with her.

So I challenged her: “You’re a great leader. But you need to become a great developer. Stop doing everything yourself. Start building a laboratory. Transform your campus from a place you lead into a place that produces leaders.”

She took the challenge seriously. That year, she applied everything Jane, Josh, and I had trained her in over thirty years.

Sometime later, I heard that she was going to be away for six weeks.

I asked the question that reveals everything: “Does she have leaders who can carry it while they are gone?”

She left for six weeks. And the campus didn’t just survive. It thrived. Attendance up. Giving up. New leaders emerged. Momentum accelerated.

When you can leave for six weeks, and the organization doesn’t just survive but thrives, you’ve started moving from addition to multiplication.

Janine didn’t become a better leader that year. She started becoming a multiplier.

YOUR MOVE

You have three options:

Option 1: Become a trainer yourself. Stop settling for teaching. Start building a laboratory. Bring people close. Give them real assignments. Debrief relentlessly. Transfer the 5 I’s. Apply the P.A.I.D. system. Watch transformation happen.

Option 2: Find or hire a trainer. Not everyone is gifted for training. That’s okay. But you need someone in your organization who is. Someone who can take raw potential and forge it into multiplying capacity.

Option 3: Build a system. Like Jane did. Infrastructure that develops leaders at scale. Curriculum. Cohorts. Coaching. Commissioning. A pipeline that takes people from interested to invested to influential.

If you’re leading a church of 200-500, start with Option 1. You probably can’t afford to hire a trainer yet. And you don’t need a sophisticated system. You need to start training the three people who are already showing up early and staying late. Those three will become thirty. And thirty will break you past the ceiling you’ve been hitting.

But whatever you do, stop confusing the classroom with the laboratory. Stop measuring your impact by how many people hear you. Start measuring it by how many people you multiply.

Because twenty-two years from now, you won’t remember the standing ovations. You’ll remember the people you trained who are training others.

The laboratory always wins.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Teaching reaches crowds. Training creates multipliers. Teaching

transfers information. Training creates transformation. Jesus

ministered to the crowds—but He spent the majority of His time with

His disciples. Mark 3:14: He appointed twelve that they might be

with Him. Proximity. Time. Shared experience. Life-on-life

development. The crowds got teaching. The twelve got training. And the

twelve changed the world. You can’t train 5,000 people in a weekend.

You can barely train twelve. But those twelve? They’ll change

everything. Because they won’t just know what to do. They’ll be able

to do it. And able to teach someone else.

The Shift:

Stop confusing the classroom with the laboratory. Classroom fills

heads. Laboratory changes lives. The 5 I’s are the goals of every

training meeting: Inspiration (the why—cast vision), Information

(the what—teach content), Impartation (the who—transfer DNA

through proximity), Interaction (the how—supervised practice),

Invitation (the when—public commissioning). The P.A.I.D. System

tells you how to transfer: provoke growth through healthy challenge,

assign real tasks with real consequences, inspect progress through

collaborative debriefing, and deliver recognition through public

coronation. Phil got demoted. Seven years later, he pastors a campus.

Coronation did something training alone couldn’t do—it released his

identity.

The Audit:

Are you teaching or training? Are people leaving inspired or

transformed? Can they do what you showed them? Can they teach someone

else? Do you have a laboratory or just a classroom? Are you measuring

impact by how many hear you or how many you multiply? If you lead

200-500, start training the three showing up early and staying late.

Those three become thirty. And thirty will break your ceiling.

Twenty-two years from now, you won’t remember standing ovations.

You’ll remember people you trained who are training others. The

laboratory always wins.

Chapter 14

The Atmosphere of Miracles

WHY THE SOIL MATTERS MORE THAN THE SEED

A few years ago, a supermarket chain made an impossible claim.

They were selling onions that wouldn’t make you cry.

I know what you’re thinking. Marketing gimmick. Snake oil. Complete nonsense.

Because everyone knows onions make you cry. It’s wired into our biology. You can’t breed it out. You can’t wash it away. Cut an onion, tears come.

That’s just how onions work.

Except these onions didn’t.

People bought them skeptically. Brought them home ready to be disappointed. Sliced into them, waiting for the burn.

Nothing.

No tears. No sting. No watering eyes.

Scientists traced the compound back to sulfur in the ground. For generations, farmers had grown onions in sulfur-rich soil without realizing the sulfur was creating the chemical reaction that brought tears.

When they removed the sulfur from the earth, everything changed.

Same seed. Same species. Same farmer.

Different soil.

It was the ENVIRONMENT.

That’s the principle. Simple. Profound. Universally true.

You can have the right strategy. The clearest vision. The best people. The most anointed preaching. The slickest systems.

But if you have the wrong ENVIRONMENT?

Nothing multiplies. This is true whether you’re leading a church of 150 or 15,000. Whether you’re a department head with three volunteers or a senior pastor with thirty staff. The principle doesn’t change with scale—it just shows up differently.

And Jesus revealed it in a story about a farmer and a field.

THE PARABLE THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING

Jesus said:

*”This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the

ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts

and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil

produces a harvest.” —Mark 4:26-28.*

Read that phrase again. Slowly.

“ALL BY ITSELF THE SOIL PRODUCES A HARVEST.” Not the farmer’s hard

work.

Not his strategic planning.

Not his superior techniques or longer hours or deeper commitment.

The SOIL does the work.

All by itself.

He’s not saying the harvest comes to those who push hardest.

He’s saying the farmer scatters seed. Then he SLEEPS. Goes home. Lives his life.

And while he’s sleeping?

The soil keeps working.

Even when the farmer isn’t looking. Even when he’s miles away.

Even when he’s forgotten about that particular field.

The environment does what force never could. It’s a kingdom law.

THE TOMB THAT HELD 3,000 YEARS

In 1922, Howard Carter opened King Tutankhamun’s tomb. Inside, beneath

layers of dust and history, archaeologists found something unexpected.

Seeds.

Wheat seeds. Barley seeds. Seeds from fruits and flowers that had lain dormant for over 3,000 years.

According to some accounts, the seeds appeared to still be viable.

Thirty centuries in darkness. Thirty centuries in silence. Thirty centuries sealed away from sun and soil and rain.

But the potential was still there.

Everything needed to become a plant was locked inside. One seed could become a field. One field could feed a village.

All the potential. All the possibility. All the promise.

Sitting in a tomb.

For 3,000 years.

And nothing happened.

Why?

Because the seed never connected to soil.

And without soil, even perfect potential stays locked inside.

This is the tragedy playing out in organizations everywhere.

Brilliant people. Talented teams. Incredible potential.

Sitting dormant.

Because they’re in the wrong environment.

What we CAN become is already inside us.

But what we DO become is determined by what we connect to.

STOP PUSHING. START CREATING.

I see them everywhere.

Leaders working sixteen-hour days. Sacrificing sleep, health, family.

Their eyes tell the story.

Exhausted. Not just tired. EXHAUSTED.

The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix.

Here’s what took me decades to learn: They’re trying to PUSH multiplication.

And multiplication doesn’t respond to pushing.

A seed sitting on a shelf for 3,000 years doesn’t grow. No matter how loudly you yell at it. No matter how many motivational speeches it hears.

Until it connects to the right ENVIRONMENT, potential stays dormant.

The seed cannot grow itself.

But the right soil?

The right soil PULLS the harvest out of what was dormant.

All by itself.

Growing is more about PULLING than PUSHING.

Transformation is more about PULLING than PUSHING.

MULTIPLICATION is more about PULLING than PUSHING.

Your job is to CREATE THE SOIL.

And when the soil is right?

The harvest comes.

All by itself.

THE MAN WHO STOPPED PUSHING HIS WIFE

He cornered me after a service, desperation written across his face.

“Pastor, I don’t know what to do about Sarah. She’s a good woman. A great mother. But spiritually? She’s stuck. And I’ve tried everything.”

Books on her nightstand with key passages underlined.

Podcasts forwarded. Sermon links sent. Deep spiritual conversations attempted over breakfast.

Bible study invitations. Prayer meeting suggestions. Women’s group recommendations—the more he pushed, the more she resisted.

“It’s like she’s built a wall,” he said, “and every time I try to help her grow, the wall gets higher.”

He was trying to PUSH transformation. And transformation doesn’t respond to pushing.

“Bring her to church,” I said. “Just bring her. Don’t say anything. Don’t explain anything. Don’t try to convince her of anything. Just.. . bring her.”

He looked skeptical. But desperate enough to try.

Six months later, he found me again.

This time, tears were streaming down his face. The good kind.

“Pastor, I don’t know what happened. But Sarah is a completely different person. Reading her Bible without being asked. Praying on her own. Volunteering in children’s ministry. Inviting neighbors to church.”

“What changed?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I stopped pushing,” he said, “and I started bringing her to the right environment.”

She changed because the ATMOSPHERE PULLED transformation out of her.

All by itself.

The soil did what force never could.

THE VISION THAT WAS KILLING ME

The year 2000 started with a phone call I’d been expecting and

dreading in equal measure.

“Ashley, we’d like you to become the senior pastor of Paradise

Community Church.”

Paradise. Great church. Great people. Great history.

And declining.

The previous pastor—a man I deeply respected—had endured six years of attacks from bitter people. By the time I arrived, the hemorrhaging had slowed.

But it hadn’t stopped.

My first Sunday, I stood at the front and looked out over the sanctuary.

Rows and rows of empty seats.

I closed my eyes to pray.

And all I could see were those empty seats.

Empty. Empty. Empty.

Every morning for the next three months, the pattern repeated. I knew enough about faith to know this was dangerous because Genesis 13:14-15 (emphasis added) admonishes: “Look around from where you are.... All the land that you SEE I will give to you.” If I kept seeing EMPTY, empty is what I’d get.

I had to replace what I was seeing.

I found an old photograph from years earlier.

Paradise on a Sunday morning when the building was FULL. Every seat occupied. People standing in the back. Energy crackling through the room.

Faith CREATES the future.

Then I did something that felt ridiculous.

I took it into Photoshop. And I made it even MORE full than it had ever been.

Added people to the aisles. Packed the lobby. Filled every corner.

I printed it. Bought a frame. Hung it on the wall of my office.

Right where I’d see it every single day.

Every morning before I prayed, I’d stop in front of that photo. Place my hand on the frame. And DECLARE the future over the present.

“This church is FULL. This church is GROWING. God is bringing the harvest.”

At first, it felt like lying.

But I kept walking past the photo.

Kept declaring.

Kept SEEING the future instead of the present.

Three months in, something changed.

Not in the church. In ME.

I was praying one morning, eyes closed, expecting to see the usual emptiness.

But I didn’t see empty seats.

I saw the PHOTO.

The photo had done its work.

It had replaced what I was seeing. Changed what was filling my heart.

I saw what God was about to do.

Faith CREATES the future.

Then I took it to the congregation.

Every Sunday morning before I preached, I’d DECLARE over the church:

“I declare LIFE over this church.”

“I declare GROWTH over this church.” “I declare MULTIPLICATION over

this church.” Every. Single. Sunday.

For six months straight.

I was IMPREGNATING the environment.

Changing the atmosphere. Creating a culture where growth wasn’t just possible—it was inevitable.

Late November, I called my staff together.

They filed into the room exhausted.

I looked around the table at their tired faces and said something that sounded crazy: “I’m believing that in the next eight weeks, 300

NEW people will join this church.” The room went silent.

Three hundred people? In eight weeks?

We were barely holding on.

But I’d seen it. The photo had changed my vision. The declarations had changed the atmosphere.

The soil was ready.

Eight weeks later, we counted.

Three hundred new people.

I didn’t work harder. I didn’t preach any better.

The ATMOSPHERE had changed.

And all by itself, the soil produced a harvest.

THE MATH OF THE SILENT YEARS

But let me take you to a different season. A harder season.

You know the penny-doubling exercise.

Day 1: One penny. Day 5: Sixteen cents. Day 10: $5.12.

If you’re an addition-addict, you quit at Day 10.

Because it LOOKS like failure.

But if you stay the course?

Day 30: Over $10 million.

But living through days 1-10 is brutal.

Nobody sees it. Nobody celebrates it. Nobody believes it’s working. You’re alone in the dark, holding pennies, wondering if you’re insane.

That was us in America.

In Australia, I’d been the pastor of one of the top four churches in our movement.

For twelve years, I’d served as National Director, overseeing 1,000 churches.

Top vote-getter. Respected. Influential.

When we moved to America, I offered to resign my national position.

At the national conference, the president introduced me to the entire movement.

“Ashley has left the country to live in America.” My support

plummeted.

I felt humiliated. Embarrassed. Invisible.

During the first year after the changeover to Josh, the church in Australia dropped by 400 people.

And $100,000 a month in finance.

I was 10,000 miles away. Setting up chairs at 5:00 a.m. at the Gwinnett Convention Center.

Vacuuming carpets. Hauling cables. Doing sound checks in an empty room.

Meanwhile, reports from Australia:

“Another family left.”

“Giving is down again.”

My flesh screamed: “GO BACK. FIX IT.”

But I knew that if I went back, I’d prove the system DIDN’T work without me.

So I stayed. And I suffered.

Wondering if the soil was working.

During those slow years, our team was essentially just my family.

My three sons. Two other young adults. A single mother.

And my first daughter-in-law, married to Mark for only four months, when they moved to America.

She’d left her country. Her family. Her support system.

And ended up in a basement with her in-laws.

Everyone was on edge.

Short-tempered. Negative. Irritable.

I was Dad at night. Boss during the day.

Lines blurred. Tensions flared.

If we couldn’t change the soil in our HOME, we’d never change the soil in our CHURCH.

We called a family meeting: “Realize that being together like this will end soon. One day, you’ll have your own homes. Your own families. Your own ministries. Don’t take these moments for granted. Let’s stop being trapped by the close quarters and start making

INTENTIONAL MEMORIES.”

The atmosphere shifted.

From resentment to gratitude.

We set one non-negotiable rule together: Resolve all conflict within twenty-four hours.

No matter what.

That rule saved us.

We were IMPREGNATING our environment with life.

Even when it hurt.

I went from 6,000 to 200.

Lost my profile. My influence.

And my flesh missed the momentum.

But here’s what I want you to understand:

I CHOSE this.

Not because I had to.

Because I WANTED to.

This was the assignment God had given me. And I was in love with it.

Yes, my flesh struggled. But my spirit was alive.

Because I knew what I was building would outlast me by centuries.

YEAR THREE: THE BOOM

After months of 5:00 a.m. setups and declaring life over empty seats,

we did something crazy:

We challenged the “Summer Slump.”

Turned it into a “Summer Jump.”

International Food Festival. Combined services. Prayed. Fasted. Believed.

And in year three, I walked into the Gwinnett Convention Center and looked out at nearly 900 people.

The soil was finally PULLING the harvest out of the seed.

Not because I preached better.

Not because we had better marketing.

The atmosphere had reached the boiling point.

Slow. Slow. Slow.

BOOM.

All by itself, the soil produced a harvest.

But let me tell you about a different story.

Where the culture was KILLING multiplication.

I walked into a staff meeting unannounced.

This campus had everything. Prime location. Beautiful building. Generous budget. A pastor with a Master of Divinity and a preaching gift.

But the numbers told a different story.

Plateaued at 180 for eighteen months.

The campus pastor stood at a whiteboard covered in numbers.

“Attendance down 4 percent. Giving down 7 percent. First-time guests.. . three.”

“Who missed their numbers this week?” Three hands slowly raised.

He made each person explain why they didn’t hit the target.

The energy wasn’t determination—it was shame.

Not once did anyone mention WHO they were developing.

Just production. Performance. Numbers that never seemed good enough.

After the meeting, I asked him to stay.

“Can I share something I’m seeing? You’re brilliant. Strategic. Gifted. But the culture you’ve created is killing multiplication. Every staff meeting is about RESULTS. Your team feels like employees being measured, not developers being equipped.”

“But we need results!”

“You’ll get better results when you build a multiplication culture. Right now, you have an addition culture. And addition cultures plateau at 180.”

“What do I change?”

“Stop asking, ‘How many people came?’ Start asking, ‘Who are we developing?’”

We redesigned the staff meeting that week.

Instead of opening with numbers, we opened with stories. Who did you invest in? What leader is emerging?

Instead of celebrating attendance, we celebrated when someone raised up a new small group leader.

Six months in, something started breaking loose.

Twelve months in, the campus had blown past 180 and was approaching 300.

Eighteen months in, two services, and planting a daughter campus.

Same pastor. Same building. Same team.

Different CULTURE.

And all by itself, the soil produced a harvest.

THE FIVE ELEMENTS OF A

MULTIPLICATION ATMOSPHERE

So how do you create soil that PULLS multiplication out of people?

Element 1: Celebration Over Criticism

Most organizations operate on critique.

Staff meetings focus on what went wrong. Who dropped the ball.

That creates FEAR.

People stop taking risks. Play it safe. Wait for permission.

Multiplication cultures catch people doing something RIGHT.

Celebrate wins—even small ones.

Publicly honor risk-takers—even when they fail.

Create an atmosphere where people WANT to try because you’ll celebrate their courage, not just their results.

Element 2: Release Over Control

Most leaders are bottlenecks.

Every decision flows through them.

They think they’re protecting quality.

But they’re KILLING multiplication.

Multiplication requires RELEASE.

Push decision-making DOWN.

Give people ownership. Let them make the call. Empower them to act TODAY.

In our organization, campus pastors hire their own staff. Make their own budgets. Design their own systems.

As long as they stay within DNA and values, they have FREEDOM.

If you’re leading a smaller church or department, the principle is the same: Let your children’s ministry leader make decisions about their area. Let your worship leader choose songs without running every list past you. Let your small group coordinators recruit and train without micromanaging.

The size of your organization doesn’t determine whether you release. Your willingness to trust determines whether you release.

That freedom creates multiplication. All by itself.

Element 3: Development Over Production

Most leaders ask at staff meetings:

“How many people showed up?” “What were the numbers?” Production

questions.

But multiplication leaders ask: “Who are you developing?”

“What leaders did you raise up?” “Who’s ready for their next

assignment?” Development questions.

Development isn’t a luxury for big churches. It’s the engine of

multiplication at every size.

Success isn’t measured by how many people you led.

It’s measured by how many leaders you raised.

If you’re not developing someone, you’re not fulfilling your role.

This applies whether you have a staff of fifty or a volunteer team of five. If you’re a bi-vocational pastor with twenty people on Sunday, you should still be developing someone. Your associate should be developing someone. Your one children’s worker should be training their replacement.

Development isn’t a luxury for big churches. It’s the engine of multiplication at every size.

Element 4: Long-Term Thinking Over Short-Term Wins

Multiplication takes TIME.

Addition results in ninety days.

Multiplication takes five years. Sometimes ten.

Most leaders think in QUARTERS.

Multiplication leaders think in DECADES.

They build infrastructure for the next generation. Invest in systems that won’t pay off for five years. Develop leaders who won’t be ready for three years.

We plant campuses that won’t be self-sustaining for three years.

We invest in leaders who won’t be ready to lead for five years.

Because we’re optimizing for the NEXT generation.

Element 5: Generosity Over Scarcity

Scarcity cultures hoard.

They protect their best people. Guard their resources.

Multiplication cultures give everything away.

They send their best people to plant new campuses. Share their content, systems, strategies.

We GIVE our best leaders to other churches.

We GIVE our training materials to other organizations.

We GIVE our systems to anyone who wants them.

And it comes back multiplied. All by itself.

THE MULTIPLICATION CULTURE CHECKLIST

Want to know if you have a multiplication culture?

Ask yourself these questions:

□ Do people feel SAFER taking risks or playing it safe? If playing it

safe feels safer, your culture is not yet a multiplication

environment.

□ Do people celebrate when OTHERS succeed or feel threatened? If

success creates competition, your culture won’t multiply.

□ Do leaders GIVE AWAY authority or hoard it? If authority only flows

up but never down, you don’t have multiplication.

□ Are leaders DEVELOPED or just USED? If people burn out instead of

level up, your culture is extractive.

□ Do wins get SHARED or OWNED by one person? If one person gets all

the credit, you have a personality culture.

□ Is failure treated as GROWTH or DISASTER? If people are terrified to

fail, they’ll never multiply.

□ Do people think SHORT-TERM or GENERATIONAL? If everyone’s optimizing

for this quarter, multiplication is impossible.

Here’s what happens when you ignore culture:

GOOD PEOPLE LEAVE.

Not because of strategy. Because of CULTURE.

Great vision can’t compensate for bad soil.

MULTIPLICATION STALLS.

You can have all the training in the world.

But if your culture punishes risk-taking and rewards short-term wins, you won’t multiply.

THE BEST QUIT. THE WORST STAY.

Toxic cultures drive out multipliers and attract dependents.

Multipliers want FREEDOM. Dependents want SECURITY.

If your culture offers security but not freedom, you’ll lose every multiplier you develop.

THE FINAL WORD

You can’t control the seed.

But you CAN control the soil.

You can’t force people to multiply.

But you CAN create an environment where multiplication happens naturally.

The best leaders CREATE ENVIRONMENTS where multiplication becomes inevitable.

Think about the best leaders you know.

The ones who multiply leaders effortlessly.

They’re not working harder than everyone else.

They’ve created an ATMOSPHERE where multiplication is normal.

Where developing others is expected.

Where releasing authority is celebrated.

Where long-term thinking is valued.

That’s the atmosphere of miracles.

Not because miracles are FORCED.

Because the ENVIRONMENT is RIGHT for them to happen.

Stop trying to OUT-STRATEGIZE your culture problem.

Start building a CULTURE that naturally produces multiplication.

Because the seed cannot grow itself.

But the RIGHT SOIL?

It pulls the harvest out.

All by itself.

Even while you sleep.

All by itself, the soil produces a harvest.

Multiply or die.

There is no third option.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

All by itself, the soil produces a harvest. Not the farmer’s hard

work. Not strategic planning. Not superior techniques or longer hours.

The SOIL does the work. The farmer scatters seed. Then SLEEPS. And

while sleeping? The soil keeps working. Even when he’s not looking.

Even when he’s miles away. Environment does what force never could.

It’s a kingdom law. Seeds from King Tut’s tomb—viable after 3,000

years. All the potential locked inside. But without the right soil?

Nothing. Potential without environment equals zero. You can’t control

the seed. But you CAN control the soil.

The Shift:

Stop trying to OUT-STRATEGIZE your culture problem. Start building

CULTURE that naturally produces multiplication. Four questions reveal

your soil: (1) When leaders leave, do you celebrate or panic? If

panic—you’ve built dependence, not multiplication. (2) When someone

brings a new idea, is your first response “yes” or “no”? Innovation

dies in “no” cultures. (3) When failure happens, do you debrief or

punish? Fear-based cultures kill risk-taking. (4) Do you reward

long-term thinking or short-term wins? Toxic cultures drive out

multipliers and attract dependents. Multipliers want FREEDOM.

Dependents want SECURITY. If your culture offers security but not

freedom, you’ll lose every multiplier you develop.

The Audit:

What’s your soil producing? Onions made people cry because of SULFUR

in the ground. Remove the sulfur, tears stop. Same seed. Different

soil. What’s the sulfur in your organization? Fear? Control?

Performance? Punishment? Scarcity? You can have the right strategy,

clearest vision, best people, most anointed preaching, slickest

systems. But if you have the wrong ENVIRONMENT? Nothing multiplies.

Create environments where multiplication becomes inevitable. Where

developing others is expected. Where releasing authority is

celebrated. Where long-term thinking is valued. That’s the atmosphere

of miracles. The seed cannot grow itself. But the right soil? It pulls

the harvest out. All by itself. Even while you sleep.

Chapter 15

The X-Factor

THE OPERATING SYSTEM

THAT SEPARATES MULTIPLIERS FROM BURNOUTS

I watched a pastor die last year.

Not physically. He’s still breathing. Still preaching. Still showing up on Sundays with that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

But the man I knew—the one who planted that church with fire in his bones and faith that could move mountains—that man is gone.

Burned out. Hollowed out. Running on fumes and pretending it’s the Holy Spirit.

He’s fifty-three years old. He’s built a church of 800 people. And he told me over coffee, with tears running down his face: “Ashley,

I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” I wanted to shake him.

Not because I was angry at him. Because I’ve been him. Twice.

And I know exactly what’s killing him.

He’s running the wrong operating system.

He’s saved by grace but living by works. Forgiven by favor but driven by performance. He knows the theology of rest, but he’s never actually rested because he doesn’t know how to access what’s already been given.

And here’s what haunts me: there are thousands of leaders just like him. Maybe you’re one of them.

Grinding. Striving. Exhausted to the bone. Producing fruit through sheer force of will while your soul shrivels up inside.

You’ve read all the books about grace. You can quote the verses.

You’ve preached the sermons.

But you’re still dying.

Because there’s a difference between knowing about grace and actually living from it. There’s a difference between teaching the theology and running on the power.

And that difference?

It’s the difference between leaders who multiply and leaders who burn out.

Between movements that outlast their founders and ministries that die when the visionary collapses.

Between finishing strong and finishing in a hospital bed, wondering where it all went wrong.

This chapter is about the power that makes multiplication possible.

Not your power. His power. Flowing through you. Sustaining you. Multiplying everything you touch.

But you have to know how to access it.

THE BANK HOLDUP

Let me show you what this power looks like when everything is on the

line.

I was in a bank. Just a customer. My son Mark was with me—two years old.

Two gunmen burst through the doors. Stockings over their faces.

One had a sawn-off shotgun.

He started screaming. “GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR!”

I hit the ground. But Mark was three feet from the gunman. Too far for me to reach. Close enough to be in danger.

I never took my eyes off the robber. Twelve feet between us. He was waving that shotgun. Screaming. And Mark looked at me. His little face was crumbling. He could feel the danger. He was about to cry.

Then something happened.

The word came out of my mouth involuntarily.

Jesus.

Just that. One word.

And suddenly—like a blanket dropping over me—all the fear left.

Gone. I felt bold.

I started talking to Mark. Calm. Steady. “It’s okay, mate. It’s okay.”

Then I started talking to the gunman. “Can I get my son? Can I get my son?”

He yelled back: “NO! He’ll be okay!”

So I kept talking to Mark. Kept him calm. The whole time, I’m lying on the floor of this bank with a shotgun pointed in my direction, and I have no fear.

I actually debated getting up and rebuking the gunman in Jesus’s name. I could see the next day’s newspaper headline: “Pastor Stops Armed Robbery.”

But I had my son to think about. So I stayed down. Kept talking. Kept calm.

When the robbers ran out, I was the first one up. I ran outside, found a cop, and twenty minutes later, both gunmen were caught. Then the counsellors arrived. Customers were crying. Staff were in shock. Everyone was falling apart.

And I became one of the counsellors. Helping people. Steady. Present.

I didn’t manufacture that courage.

I didn’t work it up. I didn’t positive-think my way into boldness.

I didn’t have time to prepare or strategize or get my mind right.

God’s hand came upon me in that moment. His power transferred into my situation. What was in His hand—peace, authority, courage—flowed into mine.

That’s the anointing Jesus talked about.

“WHAT IS THAT COMING FROM YOU?”

I was being interviewed for an Australian newspaper. Halfway through,

the journalist stopped.

She looked at me strangely.

“What’s that?” she said.

I didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“What is that coming from you?”

I felt exposed. “I don’t understand.”

She leaned forward. “There’s a power coming from you. It’s incredible. I can feel it. What is it?”

I explained it was the Holy Spirit.

We talked for a long time after that. I shared the gospel with her.

The next weekend, she contacted me. She’d given her life to Jesus.

A journalist—not a Christian—could feel something radiating from me that she couldn’t explain.

That’s not charisma. That’s not personality. That’s not leadership training.

That’s supernatural power. Available to every believer. Flowing through every leader who knows how to access it.

And it’s available to you. Every day. For every assignment God has given you.

THE TWO DIMENSIONS OF POWER

Most leaders never understand this. They confuse the two dimensions. They try to access one while ignoring the other. That’s why they burn out or plateau.

Grace and favor are one internal operating system.

Let me be precise about something: Grace and favor are the same power. Different words—Hebrew uses chen, Greek uses charis—but the same supernatural reality. It’s God’s empowering presence that allows you to operate from supply rather than for supply.

Grace and favor are what you access through connection with Jesus. It’s the river that never stops flowing. It’s always available. You just have to stay positioned to receive it.

Grace and favor are internal. They transform how you think, how you carry weight, how you approach every day. It’s the difference between waking up with anxiety or waking up with peace. Between working to earn and working from what’s already been given.

Anointing is the external coming upon.

It’s what happens when God’s hand touches your specific assignment and transfers supernatural ability to accomplish it. The bank holdup. The journalist interview. The negotiation where you shouldn’t win but do.

Anointing is external. It comes upon you. It’s targeted. Assignment-specific. Moment-activated.

But here’s what most leaders miss: The anointing flows out of grace and favor.

You can’t have anointing without first having the grace foundation. The anointing has to have somewhere to land.

If your internal operating system is broken—if you’re running on striving and self-effort—the anointing has no receptor. It’s like trying to pour water into a cup that’s already full of sand.

Grace and favor create the internal capacity.

Then anointing comes upon that foundation for specific assignments.

One is what you live in. The other is what comes upon you.

One is the river. The other is the flood for a specific field.

You need both. And you need them in the right order.

For decades, the church has emphasized faith. And I’ve lived in it. I’ve preached it. I’ve believed it.

But here’s what I’ve discovered as I’ve gone deeper with God:

Grace is the initiator. Faith is the responder.

We’ve had it backwards.

Ephesians 2:8-9 (emphasis added): “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works.”

By grace. Through faith.

Not by faith through grace. By grace through faith.

Grace is the source. Faith is the channel.

For decades, we’ve been trying to generate faith to access grace. But you can’t access what initiates you. That’s like trying to turn on a faucet before connecting it to the water supply.

Your faith doesn’t trigger

God’s grace. God’s grace triggers your faith.

Romans 5:8: “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Not after you believed. Not after you had faith. While you were still a sinner.

Grace moved first. Grace always comes first.

You need to receive grace before you can believe for miracles.

That’s why the focus has to shift from “believing harder” to “receiving more.”

Here’s how grace actually works—the five-step progression that changes everything:

Step 1: Grace reveals. God shows you who He is and what He’s done. You can’t have faith in something you don’t know about. Romans 10:17 (NKJV) says, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” What comes first? Hearing. What produces faith? The Word being revealed. Grace reveals first.

Step 2: Grace convinces. Information isn’t enough. Lots of people know about God but don’t know God. The Holy Spirit convinces your heart that what’s been revealed is true. Not just head knowledge—heart conviction.

Step 3: Grace opens. Grace opens your spiritual eyes to see what’s available. Suddenly you understand: This isn’t just theology. This isn’t just for other people. This is for me.

Step 4: Grace empowers. Even your capacity to believe is a gift. Ephesians 2:8 says faith is “not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.” You don’t manufacture faith. Grace supplies faith.

Step 5: Faith responds. Finally—finally—faith reaches out and takes hold of what grace has provided.

Faith is the final step, not the first one.

First John 4:19: “We love because He first loved us.” First. Past

tense. Already done. Grace moved first.

Your faith doesn’t trigger God’s grace. God’s grace triggers your faith.

Stop trying to have great faith. Start receiving great grace. And watch your faith explode.

Let me paint a few more pictures that will help you understand grace at a deeper level. Then we’ll get into the practical “how” of receiving it daily.

THE RESTAURANT REVELATION

Let me give you a picture that will change how you see this forever.

Imagine you’re at a high-end restaurant. You walk in, and the host seats you at a table. That’s your position. You have a seat. You’re in.

Then the waiter brings you a menu. That’s your provision. Everything you need is available. You just have to order.

Now here’s the critical distinction: Your seating doesn’t depend on your ordering. You don’t earn the chair by picking the right food. The chair was given when you walked in.

But your eating does depend on your ordering. You have access to the menu, but if you don’t order, you don’t eat.

Most Christians understand they have the seating. They know they’re saved. They’re in. They have a position at God’s table.

But they’re starving because they don’t understand how to access the provision.

They’re seated but not eating. Positioned but not receiving. Secured but not supplied.

Righteousness is your seating. It’s your position. It’s locked in.

It’s permanent. It’s a gift.

Grace is your provision. It’s what’s on the menu. It’s available. It’s abundant.

Faith is how you order. You have to receive it. You have to take hold of what’s been provided.

Righteousness is your position. Grace is your provision. Faith is how you access it.

THE AUTOPSY OF MY FIRST DEATH

Let me tell you what I found when I did the autopsy on my 1995

burnout.

Age thirty-one. Leading Australia’s largest youth ministry. Panic attacks. Complete collapse. Six months off while Jane held everything together.

I dug into what went wrong. And here’s what I discovered: I wasn’t working for God. I was working to silence critics.

I was carrying everything emotionally. And I didn’t trust God as much as I said I did.

The truth? I was saved by grace, but living by works.

I understood grace theologically. I could preach it. I could explain justification by faith. I had the doctrine down.

But my operating system was still performance-based.

Every morning, I woke up with a deficit to fill. Every day, I worked to earn what I should have been receiving. Every night, I collapsed, wondering if I’d done enough.

That’s the works system. And it has a ceiling—your capacity.

Works do produce fruit. But that fruit is limited by what you can generate. Push it to the extreme as I did, and it will kill you.

And here’s what most people don’t know.

I had a second wake-up call about ten years after that first burnout.

And this time, I should have known better.

After that first collapse, I’d genuinely learned the lesson. I mean, really learned it. I was living in grace. I understood rest. For years— years—I operated from supply instead of striving for it. I knew the difference. I’d tasted freedom.

I thought I’d graduated.

I was wrong.

Striving is like gravity. It never stops pulling.

You don’t fall back into striving with a loud crash. You drift back. Slowly. Silently. One small compromise at a time. One “I’ll just handle this myself” at a time. One “God needs my help on this one” at a time.

Ministry was thriving. I had rest rhythms in place. I wasn’t working insane hours. On paper, everything looked healthy.

But I was exhausted again. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

Then someone who loved me said it: “You’ve fallen back. You’re carrying the weight again. Somewhere along the way, you stopped surrendering and started striving.” They were right.

I’d kept the external pace of grace but had slowly reverted to the internal posture of works.

Gravity had won. And I hadn’t even felt myself falling.

You never graduate from grace. Ever.

You have to stay in it. Constantly. Intentionally. Vigilantly.

Because gravity never takes a day off.

Let me ask you ten questions. Answer honestly:

1) When you wake up in the morning—peace or anxiety?

2) When you think about your workload—empowered or overwhelmed?

3) When you look at your results—secure or insecure?

4) When you pray—talking to a Father or begging a Master?

5) When things go wrong—“God’s got this” or “I have to fix this?”

6) When you rest—refreshed or guilty?

7) When others succeed—celebratory or competitive?

8) When you fail—“God still loves me” or “I’ve disappointed God?”

9) At the end of the day—satisfied or exhausted?

10) When you think about tomorrow—confident or worried?

If you answered with the second option more than twice, you’re not living under grace and favor.

You’re running the works operating system.

And that system is killing you—whether you’re a bi-vocational pastor trying to grow from eighty to 150, or a megachurch leader managing staff while carrying emotional weight for the whole organization.

The size of your ministry doesn’t determine whether you burn out.

Your operating system does.

I know what you’re thinking. I can hear the objection forming.

If I just receive and don’t strive, won’t that make me lazy? Won’t things fall apart?

My mother worried about the same thing. She was afraid grace would make people passive.

But I’ve discovered the opposite.

Titus 2:11-14 says grace trains us and makes us “eager to do what is good.”

Grace doesn’t make you lazy. Grace makes you eager.

But it’s a different kind of eagerness. Not anxious striving. Not fear-driven hustle. Joy-filled, grace-empowered, God-multiplied work.

Here’s what happens when you operate under grace:

First, you work without the mental and emotional baggage.

Same work. Zero stress carried. You give your best, then you trust God with the results. You’re not grinding with anxiety—you’re flowing with peace.

The outcome isn’t your identity. Success doesn’t define you. Failure doesn’t destroy you. You work hard, but you don’t carry the weight.

Second, God gives you shortcuts, ideas, favor, and divine connections that multiply your results.

This is the part most people miss.

When you’re connected to grace, God doesn’t just sustain you— He accelerates you. He gives you the breakthrough idea. The divine connection. The supernatural strategy. The door that opens when it should have stayed closed.

Your effort plus God’s favor equals results far beyond what your effort alone could produce.

THE DEALS THAT SHOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED

This is how I’ve negotiated property deal after property deal for

Futures Church.

I’m not a real estate genius. I’m a missionary kid from the jungles of Papua New Guinea. I didn’t go to business school. I never learned to negotiate in a classroom.

But twenty years ago, I started asking the Holy Spirit to anoint me for business.

And something shifted.

I’ve walked into rooms with developers, bankers, lawyers—people who do deals for a living. People who’ve forgotten more about negotiation than I’ll ever know naturally.

And when I start talking, the room goes quiet.

Not because I’m impressive. Because God’s hand is on me.

I’ve had non-Christians in these meetings comment on it. More than once, a successful businessman has smiled at me and said, “Don’t give me that ‘I’m just a pastor’ story. You’re not a pastor.

You’re a businessman.”

I smile back. Because I know what they’re sensing.

They’re sensing the anointing.

I only own one house—the one I live in. But I’ve negotiated millions of dollars off contracts. Secured terms that made no natural sense. Every deal so favorable, so impossible by natural standards, so obviously marked by the hand of God that there’s no other explanation except grace.

Here’s what’s interesting. It doesn’t work when I’m doing it for myself.

The anointing is assignment-specific.

When I’m operating in my lane—building God’s house—His hand is on me. When I step outside that lane, I’m just a missionary kid from the jungle.

That’s not a limitation. That’s focus.

Grace produces greater results than striving ever did—but with God’s favor, not your pain.

HOW TO ACCESS GRACE AND FAVOR

Grace isn’t something you earn. It’s something you position yourself

to receive.

Connect before you produce.

Before you open your email, before you check your phone, before you start your to-do list—connect. With Jesus. With the Holy Spirit.

Let the supply flow before you start spending.

Grace doesn’t stop flowing from God—it stops flowing to you when the

pipeline clogs.

Most leaders start their day already in deficit. They wake up, check their problems, and begin striving immediately. By 9 a.m., they’re running on empty.

Flip the order. Connect first. Receive first. Fill up first. Then

operate from fullness instead of for fullness.

Shift your posture from earning to receiving.

Every time you feel the weight pressing down, ask yourself: Am I carrying what God never asked me to carry?

Every time anxiety rises, ask: Have I slipped back into the works system?

The works system feels normal because the world runs on it. Performance. Results. Earning. Proving.

Grace feels foreign at first. Like you’re cheating. Like you should be working harder.

But that’s the shift. From doing to receiving. From striving to resting. From producing to positioning.

Stay connected to the source.

John 15:5: “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

The branch doesn’t strain to produce grapes. It stays connected to the vine, and fruit happens naturally.

Your job isn’t to produce multiplication. Your job is to stay connected to the source of multiplication.

Keep the pipeline clear.

Grace doesn’t stop flowing from God—it stops flowing to you when the pipeline clogs.

What clogs it?

1) Unconfessed sin

Not because God withdraws His grace when you sin. But because sin creates internal static. It messes with your receiver. Confession clears the blockage.

2) Unforgiveness

Unforgiveness is a dam. It stops everything that’s trying to flow through you. Forgive, and the dam breaks.

3) Unbelief

Not doubting specific outcomes—that’s human. Unbelief that doubts God’s character. That He’s good. That He wants to bless you. That creates a blockage.

4) Performance mindset

The moment you start trying to earn what’s freely given, you’ve clogged the pipe. Grace flows to receivers, not achievers.

5) Prayerlessness

Prayer is the valve. When you don’t pray, the valve stays closed. The supply is there. But you’re not accessing it.

Here’s the practical reality: Receiving doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means doing your work from a place of rest rather than a place of striving. You still plow the field. You still plant the seeds. But then you pray for rain instead of trying to manufacture it yourself. You trust God with the harvest instead of carrying the anxiety of production.

Keep the pipeline clear. Daily maintenance.

Upgrade when God calls you higher.

Moses had a stick for forty years. God did miracles through that stick—Red Sea parted, water from rocks, plagues on Egypt (Exodus 4:2-4, 17; Exodus 7:10-12, 19-20; Exodus 8:5-6, 16-17; Exodus 14:16, 21).

But when God told him to speak to the rock instead of striking it (Numbers 20: 8-11), Moses went back to what worked before. He hit the rock anyway (Numbers 20:1-13).

Water still came out. It still looked successful (Numbers 20:11).

But God wasn’t happy. Because God wasn’t asking Moses to get water. God was asking Moses to prove his internal system had upgraded.

Moses refused. And he was disqualified from entering the Promised Land (Numbers 20:12).

New grace for a new race.

What got you here won’t get you there.

If you want to go deeper into living from grace every day—the practical rhythms, the daily mindset shifts, the specific prayers that keep you operating from supply—I’ve written an entire book on this called From Scarcity to Supply: Living in the Overflow of God’s Grace and Favor. What I’ve shared in this chapter is the foundation. That book is the full blueprint.

HOW TO POSITION YOURSELF FOR GOD’S AUTHORITY

Once grace and favor are flowing, here’s how you position yourself for

God’s authority to come upon you:

Identify your assignment.

What has God specifically called you to build? The power and authority of God are assignment-specific. Generic calling produces generic results. Specific calling attracts specific empowerment.

What’s your lane? Your sphere? Your mandate?

That’s where the anointing will flow.

Ask every day.

I’ve asked God to put His hand on me every day for forty years.

Before I preach: “God, put Your hand on me.”

Before I negotiate: “God, put Your hand on me.” Before I lead: “God,

put Your hand on me.” Every. Single. Day.

The anointing isn’t a one-time event. It’s a daily positioning.

Get desperate.

Jacob wrestled all night: “I will not let you go unless you bless me” (Genesis 32:26).

That’s the desperation you need.

Casual asking produces casual results. Desperate asking accesses desperate power.

Pray specifically.

Don’t pray generic prayers. Pray specific prayers for specific anointing.

If you’re called to preach, pray for words that penetrate hearts.

If you’re called to build, pray for strategy and favor.

If you’re called to lead, pray for wisdom beyond your years. The

anointing is specific. Your prayers should be too.

Grace and favor create the internal capacity. Anointing produces the

external breakthrough.

Here’s what happens when grace and favor are flowing and the anointing comes upon it:

Without grace and favor: Grinding in works mode → burnout, ceiling, limited capacity, eventual collapse. Even if you experience momentary anointing, you can’t sustain it because your internal system is broken.

With grace and favor: Operating from supply → peace, sustainability, emotional health, clear thinking. You’re healthy, but results may still be limited to natural capacity.

With grace and favor + anointing: Supernatural results → doors open, strategies flow, resources multiply, breakthrough accelerates beyond what your effort could ever produce.

One hour produces what should take ten.

One conversation opens what should take ten meetings.

One decision multiplies what should take ten years.

Doors open that you didn’t push. Resources appear that you didn’t manufacture. Connections form that you didn’t engineer.

Grace and favor create the internal capacity.

Anointing produces the external breakthrough.

That’s the combined effect.

And it’s the difference between leaders who grind until they collapse and leaders who multiply until they’re called home.

That pastor I told you about at the beginning—the one dying behind his smile?

He doesn’t have to stay there. Neither do you.

You can switch operating systems today.

You can stop running on empty and start running on overflow.

You can stop striving for supply and start working from supply. You

can stop trying to manufacture what God is trying to give you.

PRAYER

Father,

I confess—I’ve been saved by grace but living by works.

*I’ve been trying to believe harder when I should have been receiving

more. Striving when I should have been surrendering.*

*Grinding when I should have been resting. Working for supply when

You’ve called me to operate from supply.*

Today, I switch systems.

*Fix my internal operating system. Let grace and favor flow like a

river through my life.*

And let Your anointing come upon my assignment.

Transfer what’s in Your hand into my situation.

Put Your hand on me, Father.

Every day. For every assignment.

In Jesus’s name. Amen.

Grace and favor are the internal operating system.

Anointing is the external coming upon.

Grace initiates. Faith responds. Anointing accelerates.

The anointing flows out of grace and favor.

Get your internal system right. Position yourself daily for God’s hand to come upon your assignment.

The ceiling is gone.

Because grace knows no limits.

And the anointing multiplies everything it touches.

Now go multiply.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

There’s a difference between knowing about grace and actually living

from it. Between teaching theology and running on the power. That

difference? It’s the difference between leaders who multiply and

leaders who burn out. Between movements that outlast founders and

ministries that die when the visionary collapses. Between finishing

strong and finishing in a hospital bed, wondering where it all went

wrong. Grace and favor are the internal operating system. Anointing is

the external coming upon. Grace initiates. Faith responds. Anointing

accelerates. The anointing flows out of grace and favor.

The Shift:

Without grace and favor: grinding in works mode, burnout, ceiling,

limited capacity, eventual collapse. With grace and favor: operating

from supply, peace, sustainability, emotional health, clear thinking.

With grace and favor + anointing: supernatural results, doors open,

strategies flow, resources multiply, breakthrough accelerates beyond

what effort could produce. One hour produces what should take ten. One

conversation opens what should take ten meetings. One decision

multiplies what should take ten years. Grace and favor create internal

capacity. Anointing produces external breakthrough. That’s the

combined effect. Stop running on empty. Start running on overflow.

Stop striving for supply. Start working from supply.

The Audit:

Are you saved by grace but living by works? Forgiven by God’s

unmerited favor but driven by performance? Do you know the theology of

rest, but never actually get peace in your mind and emotions? Are you

grinding, striving, exhausted to the bone, producing fruit through

sheer force of will while your soul shrivels up inside? You can switch

operating systems today. Stop trying to believe harder when you should

be receiving more. Stop striving when you should be surrendering. Stop

grinding when you should be resting. Stop working for supply when God

called you to operate from supply. Fix your internal operating system.

Let grace and favor flow like a river. Position yourself daily for

God’s hand to come upon your assignment. The ceiling is gone. Because

grace knows no limits.

And the anointing multiplies everything it touches.

Chapter 16

The Admiral’s Trap

HOW FINISHING

ONE ASSIGNMENT

UNLOCKS THE NEXT

The old truck smelled like diesel and red Georgia clay. I was

sitting in the passenger seat, being driven through Atlanta by a man

I’d just met. Weathered hands on the wheel. Face carved by decades of

farming and ministry. He’d served on Reinhard Bonnke’s board for

years—one of those quiet giants who carry weight without needing

anyone to know.

We were scouting ground for our American launch. Looking for the right soil to plant what would eventually become our Antioch— the sending hub for North America.

The conversation had been light. Ministry stories. War stories. The kind of talk that happens when two leaders are feeling each other out.

Then he asked a question that made my neck snap around.

“Do you know the weakness of a movement builder?”

I turned to look at him. Trying to read his face. Wondering if this was a test.

The farmer kept his eyes on the road.

“Staying too long,” he said.

Three words.

That hit me like a freight train.

THE PATTERN I COULDN’T SEE

The farmer’s words unlocked something I’d been blind to for

twenty-five years.

I sat in that truck and my entire history played back in fast-forward.

Youth ministry: Five years. Boom times. Explosive growth. Then burnout. I left before I destroyed what I’d built.

Senior pastor: Five years. Explosive growth. Church multiplying. Then my entire executive team resigned. Not because of conflict. Not because of sin. Because the season had shifted and I couldn’t see it. I was trying to hold what needed to be released.

Five-year cycles.

My whole life had been five-year cycles.

And I’d always thought something was wrong with me.

Maybe I lacked endurance. Maybe I couldn’t finish what I started.

Maybe I was just wired for short bursts instead of marathons.

But sitting in that truck, the farmer’s words reframed everything.

Movement-building leaders don’t fail by quitting too early.

They fail by staying too long in one assignment.

Here’s what I learned in that moment: Every assignment has an expiration date.

The mission never ends. But each assignment within that mission must be finished.

And if you stay past the finish line—if you keep showing up after your assignment is complete—you don’t just stop helping.

You start hurting.

You become the bottleneck to the very thing you’re trying to build.

You stop being a foundation and start being a ceiling.

The people you developed can’t rise because you’re standing on top of them.

The organization you built can’t multiply because you’re still gripping the controls.

The movement you birthed can’t mature because you won’t let it grow up.

I thought about Moses throughout the book of Exodus.

Remember when God called him at the burning bush? (31:1-6) Moses had an excuse ready: “I can’t speak. I’ve never been eloquent. I’m slow of speech” (4:10, author paraphrase).

God’s response? “Who made your mouth, Moses? Who gives speech to mortals? Is it not I, the Lord?” (4:11, author paraphrase)

But Moses wouldn’t trust God with his weakness. So God accommodated him: “Fine. Take this staff. I’ll work through the stick since you won’t let me work through your mouth” (4:2-4, 17).

For forty years, that stick became the power in Moses’s hand. Red Sea parted (14:21-22). Water from rocks (17:6). Plagues on Egypt (7-12). Victory over Amalek (17:8-13). The stick worked.

Then came Meribah.

The people needed water again. But this time God said something different: “Speak to the rock.” Not strike it. Speak to it.

God was circling back to the original conversation: “Moses, I asked you to trust me with your mouth forty years ago. You wouldn’t. I gave you the stick as a concession. But I never wanted the stick to be permanent. I wanted your voice. I wanted you to trust

me with the very thing you thought disqualified you.” The grace that got you here won’t get you there.

Moses refused the upgrade. He grabbed the stick and struck the rock anyway.

Water still came out. It still looked successful.

But God wasn’t happy. Because God wasn’t asking Moses to get water. God was inviting Moses to finally trust Him with his weakness—to embrace new grace for a new race.

Moses refused. And he was disqualified from entering the Promised Land (Numbers 20:1-13).

A new generation needed a different kind of leader. Joshua wasn’t Moses 2.0. He had the wisdom of being trained by Moses, but he was different too. Relevant leadership for his generation.

The weakness of a movement builder is staying too long in the wrong assignment when God is calling them to the next one.

THE CRISIS I DIDN’T KNOW WAS COMING

By 2012, we’d built something terrific.

A great reputation throughout the state. A successful childcare center. Three campuses. Systems. Staff. Culture. Ninety years of history and credibility.

But I could feel the restlessness.

Not the bad kind, the burnout kind that makes you want to quit.

The holy kind. The kind that says: “What you built here is good. But it’s not enough.”

God was calling me to plant churches across the world, starting with our Antioch in the USA.

To start from scratch in a country where I had zero credibility, zero systems, zero leaders, zero resources.

Only eight people including myself, to take on the nation.

Meanwhile, Australia had everything.

And I was the senior pastor of both.

Here’s what nobody tells you about multiplication at scale: If you build something that depends on you, you can’t leave it. And if you can’t leave it, you can’t multiply beyond it.

I had three options:

Option 1: Stay in Australia. Keep leading what we’d built. Enjoy the fruit of twenty-plus years of labor. Preach to thousands. Maintain the platform. Safe. Comfortable. Boring.

Option 2: Abandon Australia. Move to America. Let Australia fend for itself. Focus everything on the new plant. Irresponsible. Reckless. Destructive.

Option 3: Build a system that works without my daily input. Lead both. Release Australia to be led on the ground by leaders we have developed. Pioneer America while stewarding Australia from a distance. Impossible. Unprecedented. Terrifying.

I chose Option 3.

And for the next seven years, I paid a price most leaders will never understand.

THE MAN I BET EVERYTHING ON

Josh Greenwood grew up in our church. In Chapter 6, I only gave you a

snapshot of Josh’s story—here’s the full story.

When he was fourteen, his parents moved to a country church. We lost him for a season.

But in his twenties, Josh had left the church where he was a youth pastor, and God said to me, You need to get him. I saw something in him.

Not fully formed. Not completely polished. But there.

The way you can look at a block of marble and see the sculpture inside.

I prayed and fasted over him. Watched him. Tested him—not trick tests or gotcha moments, but real assignments with real stakes where I could see how he handled pressure.

Started where you always start with multiplication: small.

Young adult pastor. Leading a department. Developing a team. Learning how to cast vision and build culture.

Then: senior pastoral team. Not just executing someone else’s vision. Helping create the vision.

Then: campus pastor of Paradise. The church where I’d learned to lead. Where I’d seen 300 people show up in eight weeks after declaring it over empty seats.

I was handing him something I loved.

Then, I put Josh in charge of all three Australian campuses.

Not as a caretaker. As the operational leader.

I was betting everything—our reputation, our legacy, our hundred-year history—on a man in his thirties who’d never led at this scale.

People told me I was crazy.

“You can’t lead from America,” they said.

“One of them will fail,” a prophet told me, “America could fail.

Australia could fail.”

He was right about the risk.

But I was compelled by the Holy Spirit after many confirmations to go anyway.

Josh and I spoke every week many times, but a year or so into the America church planting, Josh called. This time, he called with a situation he needed help with.

One of our campuses—one of the original three—was plateauing. The campus pastor was gifted, passionate, committed. But the culture was slipping.

The campus had everything: location, building, a gifted pastor.

But it was stuck.

Josh knew something was wrong. But he wasn’t sure what.

“What do I do?” he asked.

I could have flown back. Taken over. Fixed it myself.

Instead, I asked him a question. “What do you think is happening?”

Long pause.

“I think,” Josh said slowly, “we’ve created an addition culture.

And addition cultures plateau.” He was right.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” I asked.

Another pause.

“I’m going to have a hard conversation with the campus pastor. We’re going to redesign the staff meetings. Change the questions we’re asking. Shift from ‘Who hit their numbers?’ to ‘Who are you developing?’”

“Good,” I said, “do it. And let me know how it goes.” I hung up.

I wasn’t there. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t step in if it went wrong.

All I could do was trust that what I’d poured into Josh would be enough.

A year later, the campus broke 250.

Twelve months later, they were approaching 300 and running two services.

Same pastor. Same building. Same city.

Different culture.

Josh had diagnosed the problem. Made the call. Executed the fix.

Stewarded the result.

Without me. And that’s when I knew: it was working.

“BUT I DON’T HAVE A JOSH”

You might be reading this thinking, Well, it’s easy for Ashley—he had a Josh Greenwood. I don’t have a Josh.

Let me be clear: I didn’t find “CEO Josh” waiting in the wings. I found a young man with a great heart who had potential.

When we started, he wasn’t ready to run a nation. He wasn’t ready to manage a multimillion-dollar budget. If I had handed him the keys on day one, it wouldn’t have worked.

I didn’t find a unicorn; I built a laboratory.

Josh became “the Josh of today” because we spent years in the process of development. Don’t look for the finished product. Look for the raw material—the character, the hunger, the humility (H.E.A.T.)—and commit to the long work of turning that raw material into a multiplier.

If you don’t have a “Josh” yet, you aren’t ready to deploy. You are still in the develop phase. Don’t rush it.

Here’s what most leaders get wrong about release:

They think freedom means no boundaries.

It doesn’t.

Freedom means knowing exactly where the boundaries are.

Think about children in a field.

No fence? They huddle close to the teacher. Afraid to explore. Scared of what’s out there.

Build a fence around that field? They run straight to the edges.

Climb trees. Roll down hills. Play with total abandon.

Because they know where the fence is.

That’s what I gave Josh.

Not a long list of rules. Not micromanagement. Not endless approval chains.

I gave him a short list of things he cannot do without my

sign-off.

Everything else? His call.

Remember the Carver Model from chapter 7? Governance by exception.

Instead of telling you what to do, we tell you what you cannot do.

Here’s Josh’s list:

The Five Fences:

1) Can’t spend outside board-approved budget. It must be discussed and approved properly. But inside the budget? Execute today.

2) Can’t appoint campus pastors, board members, or elders. These carry spiritual authority over the entire network and are the domain of the senior pastor to lead.

3) Can’t change service times or plant campuses. This affects the whole network’s coordination. Requires consultation.

4) Can’t violate the DNA. You can’t change the gospel. You can’t abandon the mission. You can’t compromise financial integrity.

5) Can’t make legal commitments. Property, contracts, employment law—these require legal review.

That’s it.

Five things Josh can’t do without approval.

Everything else is his to decide.

New ministry initiative? His call. Hire staff? His call. Restructure the team? His call. Change aspects of the worship style that don’t change our DNA? His call.

This creates speed.

Because Josh doesn’t have to wait for me to respond to an email from 10,000 miles away.

He sees the opportunity. Makes the decision. Executes today.

There’s a difference between sacrifice that drains you and sacrifice

that fuels you.

And here’s what’s remarkable:

In twelve years, Josh has taken three campuses and multiplied them into eight.

Jane created, oversaw, and wrote the college framework, but Josh launched the government-accredited leadership college in Australia.

He’s making decisions—and getting great results.

That’s not a threat to my ego.

That’s the whole point.

But let me be honest about something:

This wasn’t a chore.

It was a holy adventure.

And I was—and am—deeply in love with it.

There’s a difference between sacrifice that drains you and sacrifice that fuels you.

This was the latter.

But don’t misunderstand; there was also real tension.

My spirit was on fire for the mission. My flesh had to learn to be small again.

I knew I had a global word to share. But I was sharing it with forty people in my living room.

In Australia, Josh and the team were stewarding what we’d built. They had the platform. The staff. The systems. The resources.

They were going to conferences. Launching campuses. Baptizing hundreds. Doing the big events.

The events I used to lead personally.

Meanwhile, I was in America doing setup and pack down every Sunday.

Seventy people in church.

Then 150.

Then 500.

I went from speaking to thousands of people every weekend to speaking to 200.

I had to learn new systems from scratch. Working side-by-side with a tiny team that was essentially just my family.

I lost my profile. My influence.

And my flesh?

My flesh missed the momentum. The recognition. The big wins.

But here’s what I want you to understand:

I chose this.

Not because I had to.

Because I wanted to.

This was the assignment God gave me. And I was in love with it.

Yes, my flesh struggled. But my spirit was alive.

There were moments—years, even—when I grieved what

I’d left behind.

But it was a grief mixed with joy.

Because I knew what I was building would outlast me by centuries.

All that is behind me now. But it was part of the process of dying to yourself to bring to life something greater.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

After twelve years of grinding? Australia: eight campuses, thriving, multiplying, led by Josh and the team I developed. America: six campuses, growing, established, a sending base for North America. Global: twenty-one campuses across four countries. And here’s what’s most remarkable—I’m not needed in Australia day-to-day anymore. Josh runs the Australian operation. Makes the calls. Leads the team. Multiplies leaders. That’s exactly what multiplication looks like.

THE BIBLE STUDY THAT CHANGED MY TIMELINE

I was sitting in my study one morning doing what I’ve done for forty

years—digging into Scripture.

I was deep in research on the tabernacle of meeting and the tabernacle of David. Comparing the two. Looking for patterns. Looking for principles I could apply to multiplication.

Then I saw it.

Four hundred years.

The number jumped off the page.

Not once. Not twice. Multiple times.

I grabbed my concordance and started tracing it:

Israel in Egypt: 400 years of slavery before Moses led them out.

Tabernacle to Temple: Approximately 400 years between the tabernacle of David and Solomon’s temple.

The Silent Years: 400 years between Malachi’s last prophecy and the birth of Jesus.

Church Emergence: Roughly 400 years from Jesus to the church becoming the dominant spiritual influence of the known world.

I sat back in my chair.

This wasn’t random. I could see a pattern.

God doesn’t just work in human lifespans.

He works in epochs.

And then the Holy Spirit asked me a question that has haunted me ever since: What if you made decisions with a 300- to 400-year lens?

Most leaders think in thirty-year increments.

They plan for their lifetime. Maybe their kids’ lifetime. At best, one generation ahead.

But if you think in 300- or 400-year cycles?

Everything changes.

Your decisions become more careful. Because you’re not just asking, Will this work for me? You’re asking, Will this bless my great-great-great-grandchildren?

Your governance becomes more flexible. Because you know the world in 2426 will be radically different from 2026. The methods will change. The culture will change. The technology will change.

But the vision can’t change. The gospel can’t change. The DNA can’t change.

So you build governance that allows the church to adapt to whatever world the next generation lives in—without abandoning the mission God gave you.

You stop building for yourself and start building for eternity.

Futures Church is 104 years old.

We’re at the peak of our first century.

But a century is just the first quarter of a 400-year cycle.

If we want to reach the 300-year mark and beyond, we can’t build around me.

We must build a system that outlasts any single leader.

We must think like God thinks. In epochs. In eras. In centuries.

A kingdom. Not a castle.

A movement. Not a monument.

That’s the 400-year vision.

And it changes everything about how you lead today.

THE 300-YEAR QUESTION

I’m sixty-two years old. I’ve got maybe twenty or thirty good years

left if I take care of myself.

But the movement we’re building?

It’s 104 years old already.

And if we architect it right, it’ll be in its prime 300 years from

now.

Long after I’m dead.

Long after Josh is dead.

Long after everyone reading this book is dead.

That’s the vision.

And you can’t build something that lasts more than thirty years if you’re the bottleneck.

You can’t build a 300-year movement if it depends on one leader staying in one place forever.

You must build architecture.

Systems. Structure. DNA that transfers. Leaders who develop leaders who develop leaders.

Anointing gets you started.

Infrastructure gets you to 300 years.

This is why we’re working on the business side to leave behind $400 million in assets.

Some people hear that number and raise an eyebrow.

That’s about money, they think.

It’s not.

It’s about a platform of resources for the next generations.

It’s about making sure that fifty years from now, when the leaders I’ve trained are multiplying into leaders I’ll never meet, they have the resources to do what God calls them to do.

It’s about building something that outlasts me by centuries.

Will we hit $400 million?

I don’t know.

But with God’s help, I believe we will get close.

Maybe we’ll even surpass it.

Because that’s what happens when you stop thinking in thirty-year increments and start thinking in 400-year epochs.

WHAT JOSH TAUGHT ME

Here’s what I learned from releasing Josh: When your disciple surpasses you in certain areas, that’s not a threat. That’s the win.

Josh sometimes makes decisions I wouldn’t have thought to make.

And he also gets better results in certain things than I would have gotten.

It’s the greatest joy of my life.

Because I didn’t train Josh to be me.

I trained Josh to be the best version of Josh.

And the best version of Josh is brilliant at leading Australia on the ground.

That’s the proof my leadership worked.

Most leaders think Stage 4 of the 4D Protocol means stop.

Discover. Develop. Deploy. Depart.

They think “depart” means retire. Slow down. Exit the game.

They’re wrong.

Departing the local doesn’t mean stopping.

Right now, in 2026, I am entering that stage at our Alpharetta campus. I still preach. I’m still present. But I’m intentionally releasing the day-to-day to the team I’ve developed — the decisions, the operations, the weekly rhythms of leading a local church.

Because if I don’t, I become the ceiling. The team can’t fully own it while I’m hovering. They can’t build their own leadership culture. They can’t multiply beyond me if I’m still in the room for everything.

That release frees me to focus on what only I can do right now.

I’m not in Stage 4 for Futures Church Global. I’m being redeployed. I’m traveling to Africa, Indonesia, Europe, and South America.

Developing colleges. Planting campuses. Training the next generation of multiplication leaders who will carry this DNA into nations I may never visit again.

I’m building the Twelve Tribes Architecture across four countries—creating systems that allow unity without uniformity, coordination without control.

I’m working on the business side to build sustainable infrastructure.

I’m not retiring. I’m not slowing down. I’m not fading into the background.

I’m redeployed to a bigger assignment.

Here’s what you need to understand:

When you depart one assignment, you ascend to the next.

Elijah departed to heaven—and Elisha got a double portion.

Jesus departed—and the church multiplied across the earth.

Paul departed his body—and his letters are still multiplying disciples 2,000 years later.

Departure from the local is what creates space for the global.

And that’s the question you need to ask yourself: What local assignment am I clinging to that’s preventing my global deployment?

What are you holding that God is calling you to release so you can ascend to what’s next?

THE ASSIGNMENT

This week, ask yourself these questions:

1) Am I staying too long? Is there an assignment God has called me to finish that I’m still clinging to?

2) What am I building that depends on me? If I disappeared tomorrow, what would collapse?

3) Who have I developed who’s ready for more? Who am I holding back because I’m not ready to release them?

4) What are my “Five Fences?” What are the five to six things leaders under me absolutely cannot do without my approval? Everything else? Release it.

5) Am I thinking in thirty-year increments or 400year epochs? Am I building for my comfort or for my great-great-great-grandchildren?

You have two options:

Option 1: Stay Local Forever. Hold the platform. Maintain the comfort. Keep doing what you’ve always done. Die with your global potential still locked inside you.

Option 2: Depart to Ascend. Finish your local assignment. Release it to the leaders you’ve developed. Ascend to the global impact God has been preparing you for. Die empty—but full at the same time. Empty because you’ve poured out everything. Full because you’ve finished the race in the right way.

The weakness of a senior leader is staying too long in the local when God is calling them to the global.

The strength of a multiplier is knowing when to depart so they can ascend.

I’ve departed the local so I can lead the global.

I’m not even close to retiring.

I’m redeployed.

And I’ve never been more alive.

What will you choose?

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

The weakness of a movement builder: staying too long. Movement leaders

don’t fail by quitting too early. They fail by staying too long. Every

assignment has an expiration date. The mission never ends. But each

assignment within that mission must be finished. If you stay past the

finish line—if you keep showing up after your assignment is

complete—you don’t just stop helping. You start hurting. You become

the bottleneck to the very thing you’re trying to build. You stop

being a foundation and start being a ceiling. The people you’ve

developed can’t rise because you’re standing on top of them. The

organization you built can’t multiply because you’re still gripping

the controls.

The Shift:

Admirals commanded ships. Then got promoted to command entire fleets.

But many admirals refused the promotion. They loved their ship too

much. They knew every crew member by name. They’d walked every deck.

Fought every battle from that bridge. So when offered the chance to

oversee an entire fleet? They said no. They stayed captains. And the

Navy couldn’t promote them. Departure from the local is what creates

space for the global. Elijah departed— Elisha got double portion.

Jesus departed—church multiplied across earth. Paul

departed—letters still multiplying 2,000 years later. What local

assignment are you clinging to that’s preventing your global

deployment?

The Audit:

Am I staying too long? Is there an assignment God called me to finish

that I’m still clinging to? What am I building that depends on me? If

I disappeared tomorrow, what would collapse? Who have I developed

who’s ready for more? Who am I holding back because I’m not ready to

release them? What are my “Five Fences”—the five to six things

leaders under me absolutely cannot do without my approval? Everything

else? Release it. Am I thinking in thirty-year increments or 400-year

epochs? Am I building for my comfort or for my

great-great-great-grandchildren? The weakness of a senior leader is

staying too long in the local when God is calling them to the global.

Depart to ascend.

Chapter 17

The Mortgage-Neutral Church

HOW TO TURN YOUR BIGGEST

LIABILITY INTO YOUR GREATEST MULTIPLIER

We’ve talked about vision. About thinking generationally.

About building something that outlasts you.

But vision without resources is just a dream.

And here’s where most multiplication-motivated people stall.

Not because of a lack of vision. Not because of a lack of leaders.

Not because of a lack of willingness.

Because of a lack of financial infrastructure.

You can have the vision for 200 campuses. But if every campus drains your resources instead of generating them, you’ll hit a ceiling long before you reach your goal.

This chapter is about the financial engine that makes multiplication sustainable.

And it starts with waking up a sleeping giant.

THE OVERLOOKED ASSET

Most leaders don’t realize they’re sitting on an asset worth millions.

Not because they’re foolish. Because nobody ever taught them to see it.

For generations, we’ve been trained to think about stewardship in one dimension: how we handle tithes and offerings.

Be frugal. Watch every penny. Stretch every dollar.

That’s good stewardship. But it’s incomplete stewardship.

What if stewardship also meant leveraging your assets effectively? What if it meant making your greatest asset work for the mission instead of draining the mission?

Think about it.

You would never buy a rental property and leave it vacant.

You would never purchase equipment and let it sit unused.

You would never invest in an asset and then ignore its potential.

Yet that’s exactly what most churches do with their biggest investment.

Their building.

Drive down any road in America, Australia, and probably most countries during the week. What do you see?

Empty church buildings. Locked doors. Dark windows. Vacant parking lots.

The church is the only entity on earth that expects to succeed while being fully operational just one day a week.

Think about that.

We admire Chick-fil-A because they win while being closed one day a week.

Meanwhile, the church is closed six days a week.

And we wonder why we’re struggling financially. Not growing.

Not multiplying like we’re called to.

Here’s the brutal math.

A church’s greatest asset in dollar terms is its property. The land.

The building. The facility.

And that same property is also the church’s least utilized asset.

Most churches sit empty 86 percent of the time.

The result? Most churches live in perpetual financial stress.

Struggling to make mortgage payments. Cutting ministry budgets.

Unable to hire staff. Limping along when they should be sprinting.

It’s nearly impossible for most churches to flourish on a one-daya-week model.

The building is a sleeping giant.

And until we wake it up, it will continue to drain rather than drive the mission.

Here’s something that should challenge every church leader.

Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays. One day a week.

And they are winning.

They generate more revenue per restaurant than any other fastfood chain in America.

Despite being closed 14 percent of the time.

How? Just like every other commercial building.

Leverage.

Every square foot of their building is optimized. Every system is designed for maximum output.

Every employee is trained for efficiency. Every hour they’re open is maximized.

Now flip it.

Most churches are open one day a week. Closed 86 percent of the time.

And they’re struggling. Struggling financially. Understaffed. Under-resourced. Unable to expand. The math doesn’t lie.

You cannot win a multiplication game while leaving your greatest asset dormant six days out of seven.

The building must wake up.

THE FIRST OBJECTION:

“BUT IT’S A SACRED SPACE”

Now, I know what some of you are thinking.

You’re uncomfortable. Something in you is resisting.

Not because of the math. The math is obvious.

Because deep down, you believe the building is sacred.

You believe the church building is holy ground. Set apart. Different from other buildings.

And mixing it with commerce feels... wrong.

I understand that feeling. I held it for years.

But I need to challenge you.

That feeling isn’t biblical. It’s cultural.

And it’s an Old Testament mindset that the New Testament explicitly corrects.

The Old Testament Temple

In the Old Testament, the temple was holy.

The building itself. The stones. The courts. The furniture.

God’s presence dwelt in a specific geographic location—first the tabernacle, then Solomon’s temple.

That’s why there were rules about who could enter which courts. That’s

why there were rituals for purification before approaching. That’s why

Uzzah died for touching the ark.

The space was sacred because God’s presence was localized there.

If you had asked an Israelite, “Where does God dwell?” they would have pointed to the temple.

The building was the house of God.

God doesn’t dwell in buildings anymore. He dwells in you.

But then something happened.

The cross.

When Jesus died, the veil in the temple was torn from top to bottom (Matthew 27:51).

Think about what that means.

The veil separated the Holy of Holies—where God’s presence dwelt—from everything else.

Only the high priest could enter, and only once a year.

That veil was torn. Not from bottom to top, as if by human hands.

From top to bottom. By God Himself.

The barrier between God and humanity was destroyed.

The localized presence was unleashed.

And in the New Testament, the temple language shifts entirely.

Paul writes to the Corinthians:

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you?” (1 Corinthians 6:19. NIV).

Read that carefully.

Your body is the temple. Not a building. You.

And collectively:

“Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst?” (1 Corinthians 3:16, NIV).

Peter calls believers “living stones” being built into a “spiritual house” (1 Peter 2:5, NIV).

The temple is no longer a building.

You are the temple. We are the temple.

The sacred space isn’t the structure. It’s the people.

God doesn’t dwell in buildings anymore. He dwells in you.

The Logical Problem

Here’s where the traditional mindset falls apart completely.

If you believe the church building is sacred space—holy ground that cannot be mixed with secular activity—then you have a massive problem.

What about the church plant meeting in a high school cafeteria?

What about the congregation renting a warehouse? A movie theater? A community center?

If the building must be sacred for true worship to happen, then every church meeting in a rented secular space isn’t really a church. Think about that.

That school auditorium hosted a pep rally on Friday night. Teenagers were dancing to pop music. The basketball team ran drills.

But Sunday morning, it’s suddenly holy enough for communion?

That movie theater showed R-rated films all week. Popcorn on the floor. Secular entertainment on the screen.

But now it’s sacred space for baptisms?

That warehouse stored inventory on Thursday.

But Sunday it’s holy ground for worship?

You see the problem.

If you take the “sacred building” view seriously, you have to conclude that thousands of church plants and portable churches around the world aren’t legitimate.

They’re worshipping in profane spaces.

They don’t have “real” church because they don’t have a “real” church building.

No one actually believes that.

Which means no one actually believes the building is what makes worship sacred.

They just haven’t thought it through.

So let’s be honest about what’s really happening.

When someone objects to commercial activity in a church building, they’re not making a biblical argument.

They’re making an emotional one.

They’ve confused familiarity with sacredness.

They’ve confused tradition with theology.

The church building feels sacred because that’s where they’ve always worshipped.

The pews feel holy because grandma sat in them.

The sanctuary feels set apart because of the memories made there.

Those feelings are valid. I’m not dismissing them.

But feelings aren’t theology.

The New Testament is crystal clear:

The building is not the temple. You are.

Which means the building is a tool.

And tools exist to serve the mission.

A hammer sitting in a toolbox isn’t being honored. It’s being wasted.

A building sitting empty six days a week isn’t being kept sacred.

It’s being squandered.

Once you grasp this shift—from sacred building to sacred people— everything changes.

You’re free to ask: How can this building best serve the mission?

You’re free to lease space without guilt.

You’re free to host commerce without compromise.

You’re free to activate your greatest asset for the kingdom.

Because the holiness doesn’t reside in the bricks.

It resides in you.

The building is just a building.

A tool. A resource. An asset.

Make it work for the mission.

THE SECOND OBJECTION: “BUT JESUS DROVE OUT THE MONEY CHANGERS”

Okay, but what about Jesus?

He flipped tables. He drove out money changers. He made a whip (Matthew 21:12-13; Mark 11:15-17; Luke 19:45-46; John 2:14-16). Doesn’t that prove business in church buildings is wrong?

No.

And I can prove it from Scripture.

Moses Commanded Commerce at the Temple

Most people don’t know this, but God Himself established commerce as part of the temple worship system.

Deuteronomy 14:24-26 (NIV):

*But if that place is too distant and you have been blessed by the

LORD your God and cannot carry your tithe (because the place where the

LORD will choose to put his Name is so far away), then exchange your

tithe for silver, and take the silver with you and go to the place the

LORD your God will choose. Use the silver to buy whatever you like:

cattle, sheep, wine or other fermented drink, or anything you wish.*

Read that carefully.

God commanded a system where people would sell their goods at home, travel with money, and purchase animals and offerings at the temple.

This was divine accommodation.

God knew that people traveling from distant regions couldn’t bring livestock across hundreds of miles.

So, He built commerce into the system of worship.

The buying and selling of sacrificial animals wasn’t a human invention that crept into the temple.

It was God’s idea.

Commanded by Moses. Upheld for centuries. Part of the worship system God Himself designed.

So, when you see Jesus turning over tables, you need to ask a better question than “Was He against commerce?”

The question is this: “What specifically was He against?”

What Jesus Actually Condemned

When Jesus cleansed the temple, He quoted Jeremiah 7:11:

“You have made it a den of robbers” (Jeremiah 7:11, author paraphrase).

Most people hear “den of robbers” and think, The temple had become a place where robbery happened. That’s not what the phrase means.

Think about what a robber’s den is.

Robbers don’t commit their crimes in the den.

The den is where they go after committing their crimes—to hide, to feel safe, to divide up their stolen goods, to escape accountability.

A den is a hideout. A safe house.

Jesus wasn’t saying, “You’re robbing people in the temple.”

He was saying, “You’re robbing people everywhere else—then running to the temple to feel religiously safe.”

They exploited all week. Then showed up acting pious.

Here’s the key detail: the commercial operations happened in the court of the Gentiles—the outer court, separate from the sacred inner courts—so they could exploit worshippers in the commercial zone and then walk into the inner courts to sit as pious Jews, their hands supposedly clean.

That is what Jesus was condemning.

THE CORRUPTION JESUS EXPOSED

Here’s what was happening in Jesus’s day.

The commercial operations in the temple had been taken over by the family of Annas, the high priest.

And they had turned God’s provision into a predatory monopoly.

The scam worked like this:

People would bring their own animals for sacrifice—animals they had raised, inspected, and knew were without blemish.

But only Annas and his representatives were authorized to certify if an animal was “pure” enough for sacrifice.

And they routinely rejected perfectly good animals.

Why?

So worshippers would be forced to purchase “pre-approved” animals from the Bazaars of Annas—at massively inflated prices.

Historical records tell us that a pair of doves—the sacrifice of the poor—sometimes cost a golden dinar.

That’s ten to twenty times the fair market value.

The money changers were in on it, too. Temple tax had to be paid in Tyrian shekels, so anyone with Roman or foreign currency had to exchange it.

The exchange fees were exorbitant.

The system Moses established—a system of provision for distant worshippers—had become a system of exploitation run by religious elites.

That’s what Jesus drove out with a whip.

God commanded commerce at the temple. Jesus condemned corruption of

that commerce.

So let’s be clear.

Jesus was not against:

» Commerce connected to worship (Moses commanded it)

» Providing services that help people worship

» Using buildings for missionally aligned purposes » Revenue

generation that served the kingdom Jesus was against:

» Exploitation of worshippers

» Greed masked as religious service

» Religious leaders who rob the vulnerable and hide behind their

position

» Systems designed to enrich insiders at the expense of outsiders The

issue was motive, not method.

The issue was exploitation, not enterprise.

The issue was corruption, not commerce.

God commanded commerce at the temple. Jesus condemned corruption of that commerce.

There’s a massive difference.

THE MORTGAGE-NEUTRAL REVELATION

This theological correction changed everything for me.

For years, I had accepted the assumption that church buildings should be sacred spaces untouched by commerce.

But that assumption wasn’t biblical. It was cultural.

And it was keeping us financially strapped.

So I asked a different question:

What if the building paid for itself?

What if, instead of the congregation struggling to cover a mortgage, the building generated enough income to cover its own cost?

Imagine not giving so much money to a bank every month.

Imagine redirecting those funds to the actual mission—reaching people, developing leaders, planting churches.

Imagine being able to plant a new campus and assemble a full team from the beginning instead of running skeleton crews for years.

Imagine the building becoming an engine for multiplication instead of an anchor dragging you down.

This is not a pipe dream.

This is exactly what we have done at Futures Church.

At one of our campuses, we lease the building during the week to an organization that uses it Monday through Friday.

Daycare. Co-working space. Events.

The master lease and sublease combination generates enough revenue to cover 100 percent of our mortgage.

Read that again.

One hundred percent.

The building pays for itself.

Every dollar that used to go to the bank now goes to the mission.

More staff. More outreach.

More church plants. More impact.

But we didn’t stop there.

We asked: What if we could go beyond mortgage-neutral to mortgage-positive?

What if the building didn’t just cover its costs but generated surplus for the mission?

Our financial models predict that within four years, one of our buildings will produce approximately $700,000 in net revenue per year beyond the mortgage.

That’s not breaking even.

That’s the building funding the mission.

The sleeping giant woke up.

And it’s now one of our greatest multipliers.

But you don’t need a massive facility to make this work. Let me tell

you about Andy.

The Unsung Hero: A Smaller Church’s Innovation

Andy is one of our campus pastors. His congregation runs about 300 on a Sunday morning. Not a megachurch.

Not millions in assets. Just a faithful pastor leading a faithful church.

Some years ago, after being challenged to multiply or die, Andy started praying and asking God for an opportunity.

Over months of unlearning and relearning the stewardship and multiplication principles, he had an idea.

For years, he’d watched his neighbor build a massive Christmas light show.

Every December, thousands of cars would flood the street. Most pastors would have been annoyed by the traffic, the noise, the chaos.

Andy saw an opportunity.

Instead of complaining, he decided to approach his neighbor and build a relationship.

Over about a year, they talked quite a few times. Got to know each other. Built trust.

During one of their conversations, the topic of the thousands of cars came up.

That’s when the idea was formed.

What if the church charged cars to park in the church parking lot during December?

And what if the neighbor—grateful for the partnership and the overflow parking solution—donated a portion to the church?

In 2025, that neighbor donated $56,000 to the church.

That covered their entire mortgage for the year.

Read that again.

A 300-person church. A neighbor with Christmas lights. A parking lot that sat empty.

A relationship built over coffee and conversations.

Result? Mortgage-neutral.

Andy didn’t need a commercial daycare. He didn’t need a medical clinic. He didn’t need millions in assets.

He needed eyes to see what was already in front of him.

He needed the courage to build a relationship instead of building a wall.

He needed a multiplication mindset that asked: What do I have that’s sitting dormant?

Andy’s campus is an unsung hero of the mortgage-neutral church. And

his story proves the principle works at any scale.

THE LANDLORD MODEL

Now, let me tell you exactly how we structure this.

Because there’s a right way and a wrong way.

The wrong way, in my opinion, is to start running businesses yourself.

I’ve seen churches try to open coffee shops, gyms, bookstores, and pastor the church at the same time.

It doesn’t work.

Why?

Because running a business takes your attention away from the main game.

You didn’t get into ministry to manage inventory, hire baristas, deal with suppliers, and track profit margins on lattes.

Every hour you spend running a cafe is an hour you’re not spending developing leaders, preaching the Word, and multiplying the movement.

The business itself becomes a distraction. A drain. An energy vampire.

And here’s the worst part: most pastors aren’t trained to run businesses.

So, the business struggles, loses money, and now you’ve got two problems instead of one.

Don’t do it.

Here’s our model:

We want to be the landlord, not the business owner.

We identify symbiotic, missionally aligned businesses that could use our space during the week—daycares, medical clinics, counseling centers, co-working spaces, cafés.

Then we lease them the space.

Long-term leases. Fair rates. Professional agreements.

They run their business. We collect a rent check.

They deal with staffing, operations, customers, and compliance. We focus on the mission.

They bring people onto our campus every day. We get increased community presence and steady income.

It’s symbiotic. It’s sustainable. It’s smart.

We’re not serving cups of coffee. We’re not managing daycare ratios. We’re not running medical billing.

We’re collecting rent and pastoring people. That’s the model.

THE SELECTION CRITERIA

Not every business belongs in your building.

We look for enterprises that are:

Missionally Aligned—Does this business serve people in a way that honors God? A wellness clinic that brings healing. A daycare that serves families. A counseling center that restores marriages. These align with our mission.

Symbiotic—Does this business bring people onto our campus who might never otherwise come?

Every parent dropping off a child at daycare is a potential connection. Every patient visiting a clinic sees our campus. The business benefits from our space; we benefit from their traffic.

And it works both ways—if church members need daycare, counseling, or health services, they know exactly where to find it, giving the tenant a built-in customer base.

Professionally Run—Is this organization capable of running their operation excellently? We’re not in the business of propping up failing enterprises. We want tenants who will thrive, pay on time, and represent our campus well.

Long-Term Oriented—Are they looking for a stable, long-term home? We structure leases over extended periods. This gives us predictable income and gives them security. Short-term rentals create administrative headaches and income volatility.

You’re not learning a new business—you’re monetizing an existing

skill set.

However, there’s one business we do run ourselves: our events center.

Why?

Because most churches are already experts in events.

You run services every week. You host conferences. You coordinate weddings and funerals.

You manage volunteers, sound systems, staging, and hospitality.

You already have the competency.

An events center is a natural extension of what you already do.

You’re not learning a new business—you’re monetizing an existing skill set.

So, we keep events in-house. We rent our facilities for weddings, corporate events, community gatherings, and conferences.

And part of our goal with this model is that through the event center, we are able to hire our own production staff who serve the events, get paid, and then volunteer on Sunday, so no matter how small the campus, the production can be top-notch.

This is the one area where being the operator makes sense, because the learning curve is minimal and the margins can be significant.

Everything else? We’re the landlord.

I can hear some of you screaming at this page right now:

“This is great for the rich churches. But I don’t own a building. I rent a high school gym. I lease a warehouse unit. I don’t have millions in assets to leverage. I’m just trying to pay the rent.” I hear you. And I want to challenge you.

You are thinking like a tenant. You need to think like a steward.

The principle of the mortgage-neutral church isn’t about real estate. It’s about leverage.

It’s about refusing to let any asset sit dormant.

If you’re renting, you cannot be a landlord of a building.

But you can be a landlord of capacity.

Here’s how you start the mortgage-neutral journey before you own a single brick.

The 168-Hour Office

If you lease a storefront or industrial unit for your offices, you have possession 24/7 (168 hours a week).

How many hours are you actually using it? Forty? Fifty? That leaves a hundred-plus hours of dormant capacity.

Turn your lobby or conference room into a co-working space for remote workers in your congregation.

If ten people pay a small monthly membership to work from your “hub” instead of a coffee shop, you just covered your utility bill.

The Gear Lease

Look at your sound booth. Your cameras. Your lighting rig.

For most church plants, that’s $50,000 to $100,000 of equipment sitting in road cases six days a week.

That’s a depreciating asset that’s sleeping. Find a trusted local videographer or production company. Lease your gear to them midweek.

Your gear pays for its own upgrades.

The Parking Lot Pivot

If you rent a facility that includes parking spaces near a commuter hub, a stadium, or a business district, you’re sitting on gold.

Lease your parking spots during the week to commuters. Or lease a corner of the lot to a food truck that needs a consistent location.

The asphalt pays the rent.

THE TABERNACLE PRINCIPLE

Before Israel had a temple, they had a tabernacle. It was a tent.

It was portable.

It was rented land. But it was still the center of the camp.

Do not wait until you have a temple to apply the principles of stewardship.

If you can’t monetize the gym, monetize the gear. If you can’t lease the building, lease the hours.

Prove you can be faithful with the rental, and God will trust you with the deed.

But before you sign a lease or renovate a building, you must understand your local context.

In some cities, zoning laws strictly separate “church use” from “commercial use.”

What worked in our specific regulatory environment might be illegal in yours without a zoning change.

Do not bypass due diligence in the name of faith.

That said, zoning can be changed—but you’ll need to go through the proper process and demonstrate how this will benefit the community.

For US churches: the federal Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act (RLUIPA) prohibits zoning laws that discriminate against churches or treat religious assemblies on less than equal terms with nonreligious institutions—know your rights before assuming a door is closed.

THE THREE STAGES OF ASSET ACTIVATION

You don’t have to start with a full-scale commercial daycare. Start

where you are.

Phase 1: The Low-Hanging Fruit. Can you rent your parking lot to a nearby business during the week?

Can you host weddings or funerals? Can you rent the auditorium for a neighborhood HOA meeting?

These often require minimal permits and start the flow of revenue.

Phase 2: The Shared Space. Can you turn your lobby into a co-working space for remote workers?

Can a non-profit counseling center use your offices during the week?

This moves you toward partnership without the complexity of a major commercial tenant.

Phase 3: The Commercial Anchor. This is the goal—a long-term lease with a daycare, school, or clinic.

This requires legal/zoning work, but it offers the highest return.

Don’t despise the day of small beginnings. A mortgage-neutral mindset starts with monetizing what you can, right now.

THE LEASE STRUCTURE

We don’t try to squeeze every dollar out of our tenants.

That’s short-term thinking.

Instead, we structure leases at the best possible rates over long periods.

Why?

Because we want partners, not victims.

Fair pricing builds sustainable partnerships.

We want businesses that thrive on our campus for years—even decades.

We want them to succeed, grow, and become part of our community fabric.

If we gouge them on rent, they’ll struggle, resent us, and leave.

Then we’re back to square one, looking for new tenants.

But if we offer fair rates and long-term stability, they’ll stay.

They’ll refer others. They’ll become advocates for our campus.

Fair pricing builds sustainable partnerships.

Sustainable partnerships build mortgage reduction, mortgage neutral, or mortgage positive.

And that builds multiplication.

THE THREE LEVELS

Level 1: Mortgage Reduction. Start here. Any income that reduces

your mortgage burden frees resources for mission.

Level 2: Mortgage Neutral. The sweet spot. The building covers its own costs completely.

Every tithe dollar goes to mission, not mortgage.

Level 3: Mortgage Positive. The building generates surplus revenue beyond its costs. The building funds the mission.

You don’t have to achieve mortgage neutral overnight. Start with one tenant. One lease. One stream of income.

Progress toward the goal.

Here’s what the mortgage-neutral church makes possible:

The church becomes the center of society again.

For centuries, the church was the hub of the community. People came there for everything. Education. Healthcare. Commerce.

Community gathering.

Then we retreated.

We became a Sunday-only institution. Locked doors. Empty parking lots. Invisible to the community six days a week.

The mortgage-neutral model reverses that.

When your building houses a daycare, a clinic, a co-working space—people are on your campus every day.

They see the church. They experience the hospitality. They meet church members. They ask questions.

The building becomes a seven-day-a-week touchpoint with your community.

Not just a place where worship happens on Sunday.

But a hub where life happens every day.

Your building is either an engine or an anchor.

It’s either funding the mission or draining it.

It’s either open to the community or closed to opportunity.

The sleeping giant is waiting to be awakened.

Don’t let your building sit empty six days a week.

Don’t let your greatest asset become your heaviest burden.

Don’t let the one-day-a-week model limit your mission.

This week, conduct a building audit.

How many hours per week is your facility used?

Identify one underutilized space.

Research one missionally aligned organization that could lease it.

A daycare. A counseling center. A co-working space. A medical clinic.

Start with one tenant. One lease. One stream of income. Remember: Be

the landlord, not the barista.

THE BOTTOM LINE

What would change if your building significantly reduced—or

completely covered—its own mortgage?

If even a portion of the money currently going to the bank were freed for mission, multiplication, and expansion?

Financial independence creates freedom to preach truth without pressure to compromise.

It creates capacity to hire staff.

It creates resources to plant campuses.

It creates momentum for multiplication.

Your building is your biggest asset.

Don’t let it be your biggest liability.

Activate your sleeping giant. Multiply or die.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

Vision without resources is just a dream. Most

multiplication-motivated people stall not because of lack of vision,

leaders, or willingness—but because of lack of financial

infrastructure. You can have vision for 200 campuses, but if every

campus drains resources instead of generating them, you’ll hit a

ceiling. The church is the only entity on earth that expects to

succeed while being fully operational just one day a week. The

church’s greatest asset in dollar terms is its property. And that same

property is also the church’s least utilized asset. Most churches sit

empty 85 percent of the time. The building is a sleeping giant. Until

we wake it up, it will continue to drain rather than drive the

mission.

The Theology:

The “sacred building” mindset is Old Testament thinking. In the New

Testament, YOU are the temple—individually and collectively. God no

longer dwells in buildings. He dwells in His people. If buildings must

be sacred for worship to happen, then every church meeting in a rented

school, warehouse, or theater isn’t a real church. No one believes

that. Which means no one actually believes the building is what makes

worship sacred. The building is a tool. Tools serve the mission. Jesus

didn’t condemn commerce at the temple—Moses commanded it. Jesus

condemned the corruption of that commerce: exploitation, greed, and

religious leaders robbing the vulnerable.

The Shift:

Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays—one day a week—and they’re

winning. More revenue per restaurant than any other fast-food chain.

Despite being closed 14 percent of the time. How? Leverage. Every

square foot optimized. Every system designed for maximum output. The

church is open one day a week and expects to flourish. It’s nearly

impossible. The mortgage-neutral model: Generate enough income from

your property to cover—or significantly reduce—the mortgage. Lease

underutilized space to missionally aligned organizations. Daycares.

Counseling centers. Co-working spaces. Medical clinics. Turn your

greatest liability into your greatest multiplier. Be the landlord, not

the barista.

The Audit:

How many hours per week is your facility used? Identify one

underutilized space. Research one missionally aligned organization

that could lease it. Your building is either an engine or an anchor.

It’s either funding the mission or draining it. What would change if

your building significantly reduced—or completely covered—its own

mortgage? If money currently going to the bank were freed for mission,

multiplication, expansion? Financial independence creates freedom to

preach truth without pressure to compromise. Creates capacity to hire

staff. Creates resources to plant campuses. Creates momentum for

multiplication. Your building is your biggest asset.

Don’t let it be your biggest liability.

Activate your sleeping giant.

Chapter 18

The Borderless Church

WHY LOCAL IS NOT ENOUGH

Before we go any further into the architecture of a borderless

church, I need to address a fear I know some of you might be holding

right now. When I talk about breaking ceilings, distributing

authority, and expanding across borders, some people assume I am

anti-denomination. They think building globally means going rogue,

abandoning your covering, and building an independent island.

Let me be crystal clear: I am not against denominations.

I believe deeply in the necessity of belonging to a spiritual family. Futures Church is proudly part of a denominational family—the ACC in Australia and GSJA in Indonesia. I don’t believe in orphans building kingdoms; we need the covering, the accountability, and the shared heritage that a denomination provides. I am not against denominations; I am against stagnation.

Twelve years ago, I sat down with the president of the ACC and shared a conviction that still burns in me today. I told him that if our denomination would fully embrace and empower large, multiplying churches like Futures in a bigger way, the tent would grow exponentially larger. I looked at him and said, “If we shift our thinking and give multipliers the runway to expand, we won’t just be a movement of small churches; we will become a movement of movements.”

That is my prayer for you. You do not have to abandon your spiritual family to build a multiplying, borderless church. A denomination was never meant to be a cage that restricts your growth; it was designed to be a launching pad that accelerates it. When a denominational family empowers its sons and daughters to build something massive, the whole family wins.

THE END OF TERRITORIAL THINKING

For 2,000 years, we’ve thought about church in terms of geography.

My church is in Atlanta. My church is in Sydney. My church is in Singapore.

We’ve drawn lines on maps, planted flags in cities, built kingdoms in territories—and completely missed what God is building.

Because God doesn’t think in zip codes. He thinks in generations. In nations. In movements that outlive founders and transcend borders.

The old wineskin whispers: Build your church. Protect your territory. Guard your people.

The new wineskin roars: Build one church with a larger footprint that multiplies across cities, regions and even continents.

Not a new denomination. Not just a network. One church operating in multiple locations with shared DNA, shared governance, shared resources, and a shared vision that refuses to die when you do.

This is the borderless church.

And this is the story of how God built it—piece by piece, confirmation by confirmation, over nearly a decade before we ever stepped foot on American soil.

THE CONVERGENCE: 2003-2006

You know some of this story already, but there are some extra details

I need to share with you to give you the full picture.

Multiple things converged at once, like rivers flowing together to create a wave of momentum.

Our church had become well-known in Adelaide. One of our singers, Guy Sebastian, won the first season of Australian Idol, and suddenly our church was on everyone’s radar. We’d started a political party that saw my father elected to the Senate. Our brand recognition was up.

Then we did a survey that shocked us.

How far away did people drive to attend our church?

The answer: 90 percent came from within a twenty-minute drive.

We thought of ourselves as the church of the city. But we were really the church of a twenty-minute radius.

One of my close friends, Darryn Kennealy—a lobbyist and my media pastor—had been pushing me to think bigger. “You’re not just the pastor of our church,” he’d say, “you’re the pastor of the city.”

The multi-site model was just emerging globally. Churches were starting to think beyond single locations. And God began shaping something in my spirit.

If you’re not going to come to us, we are going to come to you.

That’s when the first church plant happened in our city center. Then miraculously, we were offered a church in the north of Adelaide—what became our Salisbury campus.

Three campuses. One city. The borderless church was beginning. But God

wasn’t done. He was just getting started.

THE IMPOSSIBLE WHISPER: 2006

By 2006, I’d lost count of how many times I’d flown to America to

preach. It felt like my fiftieth trip.

But on this particular trip, God interrupted my routine.

In two separate encounters, God’s leading was clear: I want you to expand your church to America.

I had no grid for this. Just God’s voice and an impossible idea.

I filed it away. I actually came home to Adelaide and shared it in confidence with the executive pastors that I mentioned in the last chapter. And then they left... one by one. In the next two years, it looked like it was all just going backwards. I had no senior team to leave behind. I was stuck, or so I thought. So I kept leading our three campuses in Adelaide. But I couldn’t shake what I’d heard. It sat in my spirit like a seed waiting for rain.

Around this same season, something else was happening. Something I didn’t orchestrate. Something I couldn’t have predicted.

Remember when my son Mark got a revelation from God in his teens? At first, he couldn’t fully articulate it, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

“Dad, the best way I can describe it is... ‘World Church.’”

He didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t understand the form it would take. But he knew—with the kind of certainty that only comes from God—that he was called to serve us, to help build something global.

This was completely foreign to my thinking. I wanted my sons free to explore their own opportunities, to chase their own dreams— not be trapped in their father’s vision.

But Mark kept saying it. In multiple conversations. Over months.

Over years.

“World Church. That’s what God showed me.”

He even tried to create a World Prayer app before anyone else was doing it—attempting to give form to a vision he could feel but not yet fully see.

Now I had two witnesses. God’s encounters with me in 2006. Mark’s recurring vision of “World Church.” But I still didn’t know how the pieces fit together.

Was I supposed to leave Adelaide? Hand off the church and start fresh in America? Abandon everything we’d built?

The thought felt wrong. But so did ignoring what God had spoken. I

needed clarity. And God was about to send it.

THE PARADIGM SHIFT: 2009

It was a barren season. Ministry was hard. Growth had slowed. The

vision felt stuck.

That’s when God connected me with Dr. Sam Chand.

Sam is one of the most respected leadership consultants in the world. He’s worked with mega-churches, corporations, and global organizations. When he agreed to fly to Adelaide for a consultation, I knew God was up to something.

We spent hours together. I laid out everything—the encounters in 2006, Mark’s “World Church” vision, the multi-site momentum in Adelaide, and the tension I couldn’t resolve: was God calling me to leave or to stay?

Sam listened. Asked questions. Processed.

Then, in a moment in my house that I will never forget, he said it.

“I think God is calling you to expand from Adelaide, not leave

Adelaide.”

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Not leave. Expand.

Not abandon what we’d built. Multiply it.

Not hand off the church and start over. Extend the church across oceans.

One church. Multiple nations. Same DNA. Same governance.

Same vision.

The paradigm shifted in my spirit. I didn’t have language for it yet. I didn’t have a full blueprint. But I knew—deep in my bones—that Sam had spoken the word I’d been waiting for.

It would take a couple more years for God to reveal the full detail of the vision. But from that moment on, I knew the direction.

We weren’t leaving Adelaide. We were taking Adelaide to the world.

THE FASTING SEASON: MID-2011 TO EARLY 2012

By 2011, it was time to get serious.

Over six months, I went on seven separate seven-day water fasts. Not because I was trying to be super-spiritual. Because I was desperate. God had spoken in 2006. Sam had confirmed the paradigm in 2009. Mark had been talking about “World Church” off and on for years. He had just become the youth pastor of the church in 2009, and the youth ministry had multiplied significantly to 1,000 teenagers. He had created five regions and put leaders over the regions, who today are our campus pastors.

Now I needed the details.

Fast after fast, the same vision kept building in my spirit: plant churches around the world. Not just one, two, or three campuses in one city. A movement that would multiply across nations.

God led me to Acts 13, where Paul and Barnabas were sent out from Jerusalem to plant churches.

Jane and I talked about it privately. Prayed about it constantly. But we hadn’t told anyone else except our two older sons.

A rumor about us leaving—even temporarily—would create chaos in our church. So we kept it quiet. Just us and God, fasting and praying and waiting for the right moment to go public.

I needed God to confirm this vision to our church—not just to me.

THE PROPHETIC CONFIRMATION: FEBRUARY 2012

February 2012.

An Australian prophet named Dave McCracken was scheduled to speak at our church. I had prayed specifically: “God, use him to confirm this vision so the church will know You’re leading us.”

Dave didn’t know about my 2006 encounters. Didn’t know about Sam Chand’s word in 2009. Didn’t know about my fasts. Didn’t know Jane and I had been secretly preparing to take our church global.

And then he spoke:

*”There is a looking forward and anticipation that is unreasonable, an

expectation that is illogical, a spirit of daring and adventure that

is not limited to the safety of yesterday’s conquest.*

*”There is a pioneering of new territory. There is a spirit of

discovery. There is a boldness of initiative that in the present

global climate will be seen by many as illogical and unreasonable.*

*”But that is where the treasures are found. That is where the

abundance is discovered. That is where the supernatural will be

unleashed, and that is where the greater harvest will be reaped.*

*”This will be a season of illogical and unreasonable faith.”

Unreasonable. Illogical. Not limited to yesterday’s conquest.*

Dave had just confirmed—publicly, prophetically—what God had been building in us for six years. What had started as an impossible whisper in 2006 was now a word over our entire church.

The pieces were coming together:

2003-2006: The convergence that planted the seed.

2006: God’s encounters on my USA trip that spoke the impossible.

2005-2010: Mark’s “World Church” vision that confirmed it was generational.

2009: Sam Chand’s paradigm shift—“Expand from Adelaide; don’t leave.”

2011-2012: Seven fasts that clarified the call.

February 2012: Dave McCracken’s prophecy that confirmed it publicly.

All that was left was obedience.

ATLANTA: EXPANSION, NOT STARTUP— AUGUST 8, 2012

Six months after David McCracken’s word.

August 8, 2012.

Our family and two young adults stepped off the plane at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia, with eight suitcases, a skeleton crew, and a vision that most people thought was insane.

“You’re in Australia. Why would you plant in America?”

Other, less generous people thought: You’re not a missionary, you’re a tourist. Missionaries go to Africa and Asia. Not America.

Here’s what they missed: We weren’t planting a church. We were expanding one church.

This was exactly what Sam Chand had spoken three years earlier.

Not leaving Adelaide. Expanding from Adelaide.

This wasn’t a gamble. This was obedience to a vision that had been

building for six years.

Most church plants start in a living room with twenty people and a dream—startups scrambling to survive, hoping to make it past year three.

We also started in a lounge room—in Buford, Georgia—with thirteen people.

But we brought eight team members from Australia. And we came with the full financial backing of our church in Australia.

Jane and I were getting paid. Another team member was getting paid. Houses in Georgia are large compared to Australia—we could rent a house big enough for everyone else to stay for free. We brought someone on part-time for worship, obtained scholarships for others to do Bible college while we planted.

Our church paid for visas. Covered expenses. Paid our wages.

This removed the typical church planter pressure that kills most new churches: the terror of not making payroll, the anxiety of running out of money, the crushing weight of survival mode.

We could focus on building, not just surviving.

We started with guerrilla marketing—putting invite cards on car windshields at shopping centers, knocking on doors, building relationships one conversation at a time. Everything was new.

Everything was unknown.

But we had confidence.

Because God had spoken in 2006. Sam Chand had confirmed the paradigm in 2009. I’d been on seven seven-day water fasts. My son had seen “World Church” years before we ever set foot in America. And a prophet had confirmed it publicly to our entire church in February 2012.

This wasn’t a gamble. This was obedience to a vision that had been building for six years.

Some people think we arrived in America on a private jet with a blank check.

The reality was a rental truck and a stack of flyers in the rain.

Yes, we had a budget from Australia—I’ll explain that in a moment—but money doesn’t buy momentum.

I went from leading a movement of thousands where everyone knew my name, to setting up chairs in a gym for seventy people who had no idea who I was.

I vacuumed the carpets.

I hauled the cables.

I stood in parking lots putting invites on windshields, hoping security wouldn’t chase me off.

God gave us favor—we eventually got radio airtime that accelerated us—but favor usually meets you when you are already in motion.

If we had sat in our rented house waiting for “global expansion,” nothing would have happened. We had to grind for it. We didn’t just “faith it.” We budgeted for it.

We operated on a principle I call the Funding Bridge.

We set a strict budget from the Australian base—a lifeline, not a hammock.

It was enough to cover visas and basic living expenses for the launch team, but it had an expiration date.

We knew that by year three, the American plant had to be self-sustaining.

This kept us hungry.

We weren’t a colony dependent on the mother ship forever.

We were a startup with a runway.

If you are sending a team, give them enough resources to survive, but enough pressure to build.

THE LIE OF THE LONE RANGER

I need to address the elephant in the room.

Some of you are reading about our “fixed budget” from Australia and thinking, Well, that’s nice for you, Ashley. You had a mother ship sending you resources. I’m out here planting by myself, trying to pay the rent on a high school gym with zero help.

Respectfully, you are wearing your struggle like a badge of honor.

You think doing it alone makes you faithful.

It doesn’t.

It makes you struggle more than you should. It puts you in orphan mode, trying to survive.

The reason we had resources flowing from Australia to America wasn’t because we were rich.

It was because we were connected.

We were operating as one body.

The heart (Adelaide) pumped blood to the arm (Atlanta).

That is how a healthy body survives.

If your arm is severed from the body, it doesn’t matter how hard the arm “hustles.” It will die.

The problem with the modern church-planting model is that we send “lone rangers” out to build independent castles.

We tell them to “go and die for Jesus,” but we cut them off from the supply line.

That is not a sustainable movement-building model. That is often just abandonment.

If you are struggling alone right now, I want to challenge you: Your isolation is the problem.

You are trying to be the king of a small island instead of a captain in a large fleet.

Yes, I vacuumed. Yes, I scrubbed toilets. Yes, I faced culture shock.

But I did it with the full weight of a powerful tribe behind me.

You need a covering. You need a family. You need a tribe.

Stop trying to build “your church” by yourself.

Humble yourself. Connect to something bigger than yourself.

Join a movement that is bigger than your zip code.

The “lone ranger” starves.

The “connected son” receives the inheritance. *Don’t just copy my

grind. Copy my connection.*

THE UNEXPECTED GIFT

Here’s what shocked us: planting in America didn’t drain Australia.

It revitalized it.

We were already the biggest church in Adelaide, which can make you feel self-sufficient—like you’ve arrived, like the vision is complete.

But when we expanded globally, something shifted in the DNA of our church.

Our vision expanded. We attracted a new group of international people from all over Asia to our Australian campuses—people who wanted to be part of something global, not just something good. Our finances grew. Our congregation grew. All because we trusted in God’s law of fruitfulness and multiplication.

And our church has grown 3X since 2012.

From 6,000 to 19,000. In four countries. Eight cities. Twenty-one campuses in 2026.

Planting globally didn’t weaken our home base—it strengthened it in ways we never predicted.

An expansionary vision attracts expansion-minded people. And multiplication thinking kills stagnation.

Here’s the secret: We hold tight on DNA and loose on methods.

Sam Chand was right. We didn’t leave Adelaide. We took Adelaide to the world. And Adelaide grew because of it.

Futures isn’t a traditional denominational structure where every local church operates independently, protects its own turf, and cooperates only when convenient or controlled rigidly. But let me be clear—we exist inside denominations in Australia and Indonesia. The ACC. The GSJA. I’m not building against denominations. I’m building something that denominations can unleash if they have the courage to empower multipliers rather than contain them. This isn’t a network. Networks are loose associations where churches cooperate when convenient but operate independently when it counts.

This is one church with shared DNA, shared governance, shared resources, shared vision.

We have a global board overseeing the entire movement, an Australian board overseeing the home base, and a global team coordinating across time zones, languages, and cultures.

Here’s the secret: We hold tight on DNA and loose on methods.

Tight on values, theology, mission, and culture. Loose on contextualization, local expression, and how you execute in your specific city.

This is the Twelve Tribes Model: “We march together. We fight together. But we live separately.”

Unified DNA. Distributed execution.

WHY THIS MATTERS NOW

The enemy is organizing globally.

Sex trafficking operates across borders. Drug cartels operate across borders. Labor trafficking operates across borders. Terrorism operates across borders.

But the church? We’re still organizing locally, protecting our zip codes, guarding our territories like medieval warlords fighting over castles.

We’re fighting a global enemy with a local mindset. And we’re losing.

The borderless church is the answer—not because it’s trendy or innovative, but because it’s biblical.

When the enemy attacks one region, another region can support it. When one nation locks down, another nation opens up. When resources are scarce in one location, they flow from another.

We lived it during COVID.

When Australia locked down and churches couldn’t meet, America kept going. When America struggled, Australia supported. The sun never sets on our church. Someone is always praying. Always worshipping. Always multiplying.

The biggest barrier to the borderless church isn’t logistics or money or vision. It’s mindset.

Castle-high thinking says, “This is my city. This is my territory. These are my people.”

Kingdom-wide thinking says, “This is God’s city. This is God’s harvest. These are God’s people.”

Castle-high builds a kingdom that dies when you die.

Kingdom-wide builds a movement that multiplies for generations.

Here’s the paradox: the wider you reach, the deeper you go.

Planting in America made us go deeper in Australia. Expanding globally forced us to strengthen locally.

Kingdom-wide doesn’t weaken castle-high—it eliminates the need for a castle because you’re not protecting a fortress anymore. You’re building a movement.

And let me be clear. The borderless church is not an online church. It’s a globally connected physical church.

Digital is the bridge that transports DNA—it’s the nervous system that connects the body, but it’s not the body itself.

We use technology to train leaders across nations, share resources instantly, coordinate vision globally, and communicate in real-time.

But the church itself? Physical buildings. Physical campuses. Physical people gathering in physical cities to worship a God who became physical in Jesus.

Digital connects us. But brick and mortar establishes us.

THE GREAT COMMISSION IS GLOBAL

Jesus didn’t say, “Go into your neighborhood and make disciples.”

He said, “Go into all the world and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19-20; Mark 16:15, author paraphrase, emphasis added).

All the world. Not your city. Not your region. Not your comfort zone. All the world.

The borderless church is simply obedience to the Great Commission—it’s taking Jesus at His word and refusing to water down His mandate with our small thinking.

This is what God whispered in 2006: Expand to America.

This is what Sam Chand confirmed in 2009: Expand from Adelaide; don’t leave it.

This is what Dave McCracken prophesied in 2012: Unreasonable anticipation. Illogical expectation. Not limited to yesterday’s conquest.

This is what Mark saw as a teenager: World Church.

This is what we’re building: One church. Four countries. Eight cities. Twenty-one campuses.

And we’re just getting started.

THE CHOICE

You have two options, and the choice you make today will determine

whether your legacy lives for a generation or for eternity.

Option 1: Think Local. Build your church in your city for your people. Protect your territory. Guard your members. Play it safe. Create something impressive that will mostly die when you die.

Result? A great church. A nice legacy. A memorial service where people talk about what you built.

Option 2: Think Borderless. Build one church across nations with shared DNA. Multiply leaders who multiply leaders. Plant campuses that plant campuses. Expand globally with a vision so big it terrifies you.

Result? A movement that outlives you by centuries. A legacy that compounds across continents. A church where the sun never sets, and someone is always praying, always worshipping, always multiplying.

Local thinking produces addition. Borderless thinking produces multiplication.

The Great Commission is global. Will you obey it locally, building a nice church that dies with you? Or will you multiply globally, building a movement that outlives you?

God isn’t building castles that crumble when the king dies.

He’s building a borderless church that will reach every nation, every people, every tribe, every tongue—and He’s looking for leaders crazy enough to believe it, unreasonable enough to attempt it, and illogical enough to fund it.

Are you one of them?

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

For 2,000 years, we’ve thought about church in terms of geography. My

church is in Atlanta. Sydney. Singapore. We’ve drawn lines on maps,

planted flags, built kingdoms in territories—and completely missed

what God is building. Because God doesn’t think in zip codes. He

thinks in generations. In nations. In movements that outlive founders

and transcend borders. The old wineskin whispers, “Build your church.

Protect your territory. Guard your people.” The new wineskin roars,

“Build one church with a global footprint that multiplies across

continents.” Not a controlling franchise model. Not a network that

cooperates when convenient. One church operating in multiple nations

with shared DNA, shared governance, shared resources, and a shared

vision that refuses to die when you do—operating inside

denominations in two countries and independently in two others.

The Shift:

2006: God’s leading was clear in America—*Expand your church to

America.* No grid for it. No model. No mentor who’d done it. 2009: Sam

Chand confirmed—“You’re not leaving Adelaide. You’re expanding from

Adelaide.” Paradigm shift. Not planting a new church in America.

Expanding the existing church. 2012: Dave McCracken

prophesied—“Unreasonable anticipation. Illogical expectation. Not

limited to yesterday’s conquest.” Mark’s teenage vision: “World

Church.” Now: One church. Four countries. Eight cities. Twenty-one

campuses. The borderless church is not an online church. It’s a

globally connected physical church. Digital is the bridge that

transports DNA. But bricks and mortar establish us.

The Audit:

Are you thinking local or borderless? Building your church in your

city for your people? Or building one church across regions and

nations? Local thinking produces addition. Borderless thinking

produces multiplication. Jesus didn’t say, “Go into your

neighborhood.” He said, “Go into all the world and make disciples of

all nations.” The borderless church is simply obedience to the Great

Commission. Two options: (1) Think local—build for your city,

protect your territory, create something impressive that mostly dies

when you die. Result: A great church. A nice legacy. A memorial

service. (2) Think borderless—build one church across regions and

nations. Multiply leaders who multiply leaders. Plant campuses that

plant campuses. Expand globally with a vision so big it terrifies you.

Result: A movement that outlives you by centuries. A legacy that

compounds across continents. A church where the sun never sets.

Chapter 19

The Infinite Handover

SUCCESSION IS REDEPLOYMENT

Our family’s supernatural history started in Wales. My

grandfather, born in 1901, was working as a coal miner in his teens

when he got radically saved. A few years later, after Bible college

under the famous Howard Carter, he went to India as a missionary.

My grandfather said yes to God as a teenager and never stopped. Thirty years in India. Revival in Papua New Guinea—3,000 churches today trace back to what he started. He was ninety years old when he planted his last church in the middle of Australia.

He didn’t have a succession plan. That wasn’t a concept for his generation. You followed God until you couldn’t anymore.

But God’s sovereignty—and my grandmother’s prayers— kept the generational line alive. My father. Me. My three sons.

Seven grandchildren.

Four generations of multiplication.

My grandfather built instinctively. This chapter is about building intentionally—so the next generation inherits not just a legacy, but a system for multiplying it.

THE MISSION NEVER ENDS

Most leaders think succession is the end.

It’s not. It’s the beginning of your next assignment.

The greatest leaders don’t retire. They redeploy.

Here’s what most miss:

The mission never ends. But each assignment within the mission must be finished.

David established the kingdom—then passed it to Solomon.

Paul spread the gospel—then passed it to Timothy.

None retired. They transitioned.

They finished their assignment so the mission could continue.

When you understand that distinction, succession becomes freedom—not loss.

But here’s what most leaders miss about succession.

It requires death.

Not metaphorical death. Not symbolic death. Real death—of everything you’ve built your identity around.

Jesus said it explicitly: “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” (John 12:24).

Read that carefully.

The kernel that refuses to die stays ALONE.

Impressive. Intact. Protected. Preserved.

And alone.

The kernel that dies? It disappears into the dirt. Loses its form.

Gives up its identity. Becomes unrecognizable.

And produces a HARVEST.

This is the theology of succession that nobody wants to preach.

Multiplication requires death.

Death to your ego. Death to your control. Death to your need to be the hero. Death to your addiction to being needed.

You can stay intact and stay alone.

Or you can die and multiply.

There’s no third option.

The kernel that won’t fall remains a single seed. Beautiful. Perfect.

Preserved in a glass case for everyone to admire.

And ultimately USELESS.

Because seeds aren’t meant to be preserved. They’re meant to be PLANTED.

Your leadership isn’t meant to be protected. It’s meant to be GIVEN AWAY.

Your vision isn’t meant to be hoarded. It’s meant to be TRANSFERRED.

Your organization isn’t meant to depend on you. It’s meant to OUTLIVE you.

But that requires death.

The death of the kernel. The death of self. The death of control.

And most leaders can’t do it.

They’d rather stay intact than multiply.

They’d rather be the hero than develop heroes.

They’d rather be needed than build capacity.

They’d rather hold the title than release the mission.

And they die alone. With all their potential locked inside an unplanted seed.

The question isn’t whether you’re willing to work for

multiplication. The question is whether you’re willing to die for

it.

Remember Whitefield and Wesley from chapter 6?

Whitefield stayed intact. The greatest preacher of his generation. Eighteen thousand sermons. Ten million people reached. But he never fell into the ground. He never released. He never died to his need to be the one on the platform.

When Whitefield died, his movement died with him. Zero multiplication rate.

Wesley fell into the ground. He built systems instead of stages. Developed leaders instead of crowds. Released control instead of hoarding it.

Wesley’s movement is still multiplying 250 years later.

Same principle. Different choice.

One refused to die. One embraced it.

One is forgotten. One changed the world.

The question isn’t whether you’re willing to work for

multiplication.

The question is whether you’re willing to die for it.

Because succession isn’t just a leadership strategy.

It’s a burial.

You’re putting your identity, your control, your need to be needed—into the ground.

And trusting that what grows from that death will be greater than anything you could have produced alone.

That’s the cost of the infinite handover. Are you willing to pay it?

WHEN I RECEIVED THE BATON

Let me tell you about my own transition.

Three years. That’s how long it took for me to receive senior leadership from my predecessor.

The first two years were manageable. Responsibilities shifted gradually. Authority transferred in stages. The congregation could see God’s hand on both of us.

But the last year was the hardest.

We were both holding the baton with the same strength.

Picture it. Two runners in the exchange zone. Both gripping the baton. Both surging forward. The momentum is building—but you can’t fully sprint because you’re still connected.

There’s a tension in that season. A push and pull. You’re surging, but you have to control the surge so the baton doesn’t get dropped.

I learned years later that my predecessor had moments of doubt during that season. He wasn’t sure I was ready. He wasn’t sure he was stepping away at the right time—even though I was doing all the work.

That’s the hidden weight of succession. The one handing off carries doubts they never voice. The one receiving is too busy running to notice.

Then came the vote.

A secret ballot. The congregation would decide.

99.96 percent.

When that number was announced, something shifted. The baton was mine. Not because I took it. Because it was given—by God through His people.

Succession done wrong doesn’t just hurt you. It hurts everyone who

believed in what you were building.

That’s when I learned: Succession isn’t just about the leader letting go. It’s about the people releasing one and receiving another.

Both things have to happen.

THREE WAYS SUCCESSION FAILS

I’ve been in ministry for forty years. I’ve watched dozens of

transitions. Some beautiful. Some devastating.

Let me tell you about the ones that went wrong.

The Hostage

I know a pastor who built one of the largest churches in his region. Fifteen thousand people. National influence. Television ministry.

But no one could preach like he could. No one could raise money like he could. No one could work a room like he could.

So the handover kept getting delayed. One more building campaign. One more anniversary celebration. One more “the timing isn’t right.”

His identity had become fused to that pulpit. He couldn’t imagine himself apart from it. And because he couldn’t imagine it, he couldn’t release it.

When health finally forced him to step back—as it always does— the church went into freefall. Not because qualified successors didn’t exist, but because he’d never empowered any of them to lead without him.

He became a hostage to his own success. And the church paid the price.

I watched a large movement nearly collapse overnight.

Built around one powerful, dynamic leader. Hundreds of churches. Thousands of people. Momentum everywhere.

Then a heart attack. Unexpected. No succession plan. No one developed. No systems that could survive without him.

Within five years, half the churches had left or closed. His legacy didn’t multiply. It evaporated.

Because he never trained anyone to carry what he’d started.

The Wrong Fit

I knew another pastor who did find a successor. Celebrated the transition publicly. Handed over the keys. Moved on to his next assignment.

Ten years later, he got a phone call. The board had removed his successor. The church was fractured. Attendance had dropped by half. Trust was shattered.

The successor wasn’t a bad person. He was just running a different race. Different values. Different vision. Different definition of success.

The founder had to come back—older now, tired—and try to rebuild what had been broken.

He’d passed the baton. But he’d passed it to someone heading the wrong direction.

The lesson: Three failures. Three warnings.

Don’t become a hostage to your own success.

Don’t build something that dies when you do.

Don’t hand the baton to someone running a different race.

Succession done wrong doesn’t just hurt you. It hurts everyone who believed in what you were building.

THE FIVE BATONS

Here’s what most leaders miss: There isn’t just one baton. There are

five.

And most failed transitions only transfer one or two of them.

1\) The Title Baton

Change the business card. Update the website. Announce it from the stage.

This is the easiest baton to pass. And the most meaningless without the rest.

Titles without authority create confusion. The new leader has the name but not the power. Everyone knows it. No one respects it. 2) The Responsibility Baton

What are they accountable for? What decisions land on their desk?

This baton should transfer in stages. One area, then another. Let them prove themselves in small things before you hand them everything.

3) The Authority Baton

Can they decide without checking with you? Can they hire? Fire?

Spend?

Most transitions stall here.

The predecessor gives responsibility but withholds authority. The successor is accountable for outcomes they can’t control.

That’s not succession. That’s sabotage.

If you give someone the responsibility, give them the authority.

Otherwise, you’re setting them up to fail.

4) The Relationship Baton

Who do people trust? Who do they call in a crisis? Whose opinion carries weight?

This baton takes the longest to transfer because trust isn’t assigned. It’s earned over time.

You can announce a new leader on Sunday. But the congregation will still call you when their marriage is falling apart.

The relationship baton transfers through presence, consistency, and time. There’s no shortcut.

5) The Vision Baton

Whose future does the organization follow?

This is the most important baton. And the hardest to transfer.

The vision baton isn’t about strategy documents or five-year plans. It’s about who the people believe in.

When they imagine the future, whose voice do they hear?

Until the answer is the new leader of that sphere—not you—the transition isn’t complete.

Most failed transitions transfer one or two batons. Title but not authority. Responsibility but not relationships. Role but not vision. All five must transfer for you to be freed for your next assignment.

THE RELAY RACE

In the 4x100 meter relay, the most crucial moment isn’t the sprint.

It’s the handover.

There’s a twenty-meter zone where the exchange must happen.

Too early? No momentum built.

Too late? Disqualified.

The incoming runner is accelerating. The outgoing runner is at full speed. For a few strides, both are holding the baton.

When the handoff is clean, the team accelerates.

The second runner goes faster than the first. The third faster than the second.

That’s multiplication.

That season when my predecessor and I were both holding the baton with the same strength? That was the exchange zone. Necessary. Uncomfortable. Crucial.

Pass the baton so the mission goes faster than you ever could alone.

HOW I RELEASED THE DAY-TO-DAY OF AUSTRALIA

I didn’t step back from leading the day-to-day in Australia because I

was done.

I stepped back because God called me to something bigger.

Josh Greenwood was young when I gave him operational leadership. Very young. Some thought too young.

But I could see things in him that are rare.

A hunger that wouldn’t quit.

A teachability that stayed even as his gifts grew.

Confidence without arrogance.

And this: whatever he touched went well.

He wasn’t a clone of me. That’s exactly why I chose him.

I knew when Josh took over, we’d see an influx of young families. That happened.

I knew kids’ ministry would boom under him. That happened.

Josh is exceptional at consistency. He knows how to make quality exceptional across every campus. He’s a master of operational excellence.

He’s like Tim Cook in that way.

Steve Jobs was the visionary. Tim Cook is the operator who took Apple further than Jobs ever did alone. Not by being Jobs— but by being Cook.

That’s Josh.

I’m the architect. He’s the builder who executes with precision I never could.

Was it hard to release some things? Yes. Was it necessary? Yes!

Was it hard to watch him make different decisions than I would have made? Not often.

But I didn’t choose him to be me. I chose him to be better than me—in the areas where he’s gifted.

That was eleven years ago.

When I released day-to-day leadership of Australia, we had three campuses.

Today we have twenty-one globally. Eight in Australia alone.

The church in Australia has grown from 6,000 to 10,000 under his operational leadership.

It took six years before the growth really accelerated. That’s normal. New leaders need time to find their footing, build trust, develop their voice.

But when it came, it came in floods.

And here’s what I gained: freedom to build globally what I never could have built while running Australia day-to-day.

Local focus plus global vision.

That’s the combination that changes everything.

Because when you transition well, your influence doesn’t diminish. It expands.

You go from Captain to Admiral.

Captain: On the ship. Every decision. Every movement. Every wave.

Admiral: At headquarters. Building fleets. Training captains.

Designing strategy for multiple ships across multiple oceans.

That’s not demotion. That’s ascension.

I’m still senior pastor. I’m his covering. His father in the faith.

I don’t give commands except in the areas that a senior pastor should give. Campus pastors, board, elders. (Refer to the Carver Model we use.) I give counsel.

My greatest contribution now? My absence and availability.

Absence so he has space to lead.

Availability so he has wisdom when he needs it.

That’s what frees me to build the next ten Josh Greenwoods globally.

Josh is the prototype. He is the first tribe leader, and currently, he is in Australia, but who knows what the Holy Spirit’s final plans are. We think we know, but as we obediently follow God’s leading, it will become clear.

My goal isn’t to find a replacement; it’s to raise up twelve X-factor, movement-building teams.

Because there are leaders in Indonesia, in America, in Africa, in Europe, and in South America who need what Josh received from me. I can’t give it to them if I’m still running the operations of Australia. Release creates capacity.

MY CEILING IS THEIR FLOOR

Here’s the goal:

Your successor should go further than you went.

Not equal. Further.

Satya Nadella, CEO of Microsoft, said, “Institution builders are those whose successors do better than they did.” That’s the standard.

If Josh doesn’t eclipse what I built in the Australian tribe, I haven’t multiplied. I’ve just delayed decline.

My ceiling is his floor.

That’s not a threat to my legacy. That is my legacy.

When he surpasses me, I celebrate—because I’m not competing.

I’m building.

From a different seat. Different assignment. Same mission.

Your successor will not do it your way.

They’ll change things. Different priorities. Different methods.

Different style.

You have to let them.

Because you’re not the standard. The mission is.

John the Baptist said about Jesus: “He must become greater; I must become less” (John 3:30, NIV).

That’s not defeat. That’s design.

Grace makes that possible.

When you operate from God’s supply, you don’t need the organization to validate you. You don’t need the applause. You don’t need to be essential.

Your identity is in Him, not your role.

That’s what frees you to release.

Without grace: “This is my church. If I let go, I lose who I am.”

With grace: “This is God’s church. And God has a next for me.”

Grace frees you from clinging.

You don’t lose significance. You multiply significance.

THE SUCCESSION AUDIT

Before you can transition well, you need to answer one question:

Are you a foundation or a ceiling?

Foundations enable the next generation to build higher.

Ceilings trap the next generation at your level.

Here’s the diagnostic:

You’re a foundation if:

» You’re developing leaders who could replace you.

» You’re creating systems that work without you.

» You’re celebrating when others surpass you.

» You’re thinking about generation four.

» You’re passing batons intentionally.

You’re a ceiling if:

» You’re the answer to every question.

» You’re the only one who can make key decisions.

» You feel threatened when others excel.

» You’re building around your strengths instead of transferable

systems.

» You’re staying because “they need me.”

Ask yourself honestly: If I left tomorrow, would the organization rise or fall?

If it would fall, you’re not a foundation. You’re a bottleneck. And

bottlenecks don’t multiply. They strangle.

The goal is for the mission to keep accelerating after you

move to your next assignment.

My grandfather was a foundation. He left Wales. Went to India. Built. Then released. My dad was a foundation—he built one of the largest churches in Australia, but when he transitioned, he was promoted to become a Senator in the parliament.

And four generations later, we’re still building on what he started.

Not because he stayed forever.

Because he knew when to leave so the mission could live.

That’s your choice: Foundation or ceiling.

Stay and shrink. Or release and multiply.

One more thing.

Pass the baton when you’re running full speed.

Not tired. Not forced. Not when declining.

When strong. When momentum is high. When accelerating.

Because the goal isn’t for you to finish strong.

The goal is for the mission to keep accelerating after you move to your next assignment.

Most leaders wait too long.

They stay until exhausted. Until their best candidates have left.

Until transition becomes crisis instead of celebration.

Remember the pastor who became a hostage? He waited too long. Remember

the leader who died without a plan? He waited too long.

Don’t be that leader.

Pass while running.

And watch what God does next.

THE INVITATION

So here are my questions to you:

What assignment has God finished for you that you’re still holding?

What could God build through you if you released what you’ve been clinging to?

What’s the next assignment waiting on the other side of your transition?

You weren’t called to cling to one role forever.

You were called to finish assignments and multiply into the next.

Grace makes that possible.

Are you a foundation or a ceiling?

What would change if you let go?

The mission never ends.

Your assignments expand.

Pass the baton.

And run your next race.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

The mission never ends. But each assignment within the mission must be

finished. Most leaders think succession is the end. It’s not. It’s the

beginning of your next assignment. The greatest leaders don’t retire.

They redeploy. David established the kingdom—then passed it to

Solomon. Paul spread the gospel—then passed it to Timothy. None

retired. They transitioned. They finished their assignment so the

mission could continue. When you understand that distinction,

succession becomes freedom—not loss. My grandfather: Welsh coal

miner to India missionary as a teenager, still planting churches at

ninety. My dad: Papua New Guinea. Me: Australia to global. Three sons

in ministry. Seven grandchildren. Generation five. Four generations of

multiplication—from a coal mine in Wales to churches across five

continents.

The Shift:

Three ways succession fails: (1) The hostage—identity fused to

performance, can’t release, church goes into freefall when health

forces transition. (2) The sudden death—built on one powerful

leader, no succession plan, heart attack, movement collapses

overnight. (3) The wrong fit—found a successor but the wrong one

with different values, different vision; board removes him ten years

later, founder must return to rebuild. The Five Batons: Title,

Responsibility, Authority, Relationships, Vision. Most failed

transitions transfer one or two. All five must transfer for you to be

freed for your next assignment. Pass the baton when you’re running

full speed. Not tired. Not forced. When strong. When momentum is high.

The Audit:

What assignment has God finished for you that you’re still holding?

What could God build through you if you released what you’ve been

clinging to? What’s the next assignment waiting on the other side of

your transition? Are you a foundation or a ceiling? Stay and shrink.

Or release and multiply. Most leaders wait too long. They stay until

exhausted. Until their best candidates have left. Until transition

becomes crisis instead of celebration. Don’t be that leader. Pass

while running. You weren’t called to cling to one role forever. You

were called to finish assignments and multiply into the next. Grace

makes that possible. The mission never ends. Your assignments expand.

Pass the baton. And run your next race.

Chapter 20

Finishing Strong

TRAINING FOR THE

NEXT TWENTY YEARS

Here’s what I’ve learned watching leaders for forty years: *The

loser is broken. But the winner is exhausted.*

If you’ve ever watched a championship fight go the full distance— UFC, boxing, doesn’t matter—look at both fighters at the end. The loser is hurt and broken. But the winner? The winner is barely standing. They won. But they’re spent.

Ministry works the same way. When you fight through a major building project, a church plant, a transition, a crisis—and you win—you may feel victorious. But you also feel exhausted. And that exhaustion is dangerous.

Because exhausted leaders make stupid decisions. Exhausted leaders can’t see clearly. Exhausted leaders are one word from Jezebel away from wanting to quit.

The battle isn’t just getting to the end. It’s having enough left to finish well when you get there.

THE POST-VICTORY COLLAPSE

Elijah had just experienced one of the greatest victories in biblical

history.

Mount Carmel. Four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal. The nation watching. Everything on the line. He built the altar. Drenched it with water. Called down fire from heaven. God answered. The fire fell. The prophets were destroyed. Israel turned back to God.

It was epic. Supernatural. A moment that would echo for 3,000 years.

And Elijah was so full of the power and excitement of winning that he outran Ahab’s chariot all the way to Jezreel. Supernatural speed. The anointing carrying him faster than horses, according to 1 Kings 18:46: “The power of the LORD came on Elijah and, tucking his cloak into his belt, he ran ahead of Ahab all the way to Jezreel.” He was soaring.

And then one word from Jezebel. Just one word: “May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them” (1 Kings 19:2).

And the man who had just called down fire from heaven—the man who outran chariots—wanted to die: “I have had enough, LORD.... Take my life” (1 Kings 19:4).

From supernatural victory to suicidal despair. In twenty-four hours.

The moment after victory is when you’re most vulnerable.

Elijah’s assignment wasn’t finished on Mount Carmel. He was still supposed to deal with Jezebel. But he couldn’t. The victory fuel was gone.

This is why so many leaders make their biggest mistakes near the end—not the beginning. They can see the finish line. They’ve almost made it. And then exhaustion catches up, discernment fades, and they do something that costs them everything they built.

THE LEADER WHO FELL TWICE

I watched it happen to someone with immense talent.

He’d built something significant. Growing church. Real influence. People were being reached. And then one season of stupid decisions—the kind that make you wonder how someone so gifted could be so reckless—brought it all crashing down. A moral failure that cost him his platform, his credibility, and nearly his family.

To his credit, he owned it. Stood down publicly. Submitted to a restoration process. Good pastors walked with him through years of rebuilding—slow, painful, faithful work. And eventually, the ministry was restored. The trust came back. The doors reopened.

And then—right now where he had everything to gain—he made another devastating moral compromise. Different situation. Same root. It cost him everything he’d rebuilt. Again.

As I watched it unfold, I realized something. He had a fatal flaw that made him great in the early stages. The hunger. The drive. The desperation to prove himself. But when he got a taste of victory, something changed. He became complacent. Blind to his own vulnerabilities. Relaxed in ways that created openings for disaster.

In many leaders, it’s insecurity that drives them early on. And once that insecurity is under control—once they’ve “made it”—they relax. And relaxation becomes the doorway to fatal decisions.

It almost always happens near the end. The end of a chapter. The moment just before breakthrough. They can see the finish line, and then they make a big, stupid mistake that costs them the ending they should have had.

I’ve watched it happen to too many. By the grace of God I refuse to let it happen to me.

THE OLDEST STORY IN SCRIPTURE

It’s the oldest pattern in Scripture.

King David. The man after God’s own heart. Giant-killer. Psalmist. Unifier of Israel.

For years, he went out to battle. Every spring, when kings went to war, David led from the front.

Then one year, he didn’t: “In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out.... But David remained in Jerusalem” (2 Samuel 11:1).

He stopped fighting. Stopped going out. Stopped leading from the front.

And that’s when he saw Bathsheba.

The unimaginable downfall didn’t happen during the wilderness years when Saul was hunting him. It happened after the victories.

After he was king. After he was comfortable.

Complacency is the doorway to disaster.

When you stop fighting, you start falling.

MY 2009 CONFESSION

I almost didn’t finish.

Not in 1995—though that burnout nearly killed me. In 2009.

We were in the middle of the slow years. Three years of grinding.

Minimal growth. No breakthrough in sight.

When you can’t see the path forward, you keep walking anyway.

It hit my confidence. I started questioning whether I’d hit my limit. Whether this was as far as I could go. Whether the vision I carried was bigger than my capacity to deliver it.

I even started thinking about connecting with another church group. Serving as a number two who works like a number one. Maybe my ceiling was someone else’s floor.

I approached the subject gently—casually—with one leader I respected. No bite. I was stuck.

But here’s what I did: I kept believing. I kept leaning into grace. I kept working on the possibility of breakthrough even when I couldn’t see it. That’s the only secret I know. When you can’t see the path forward, you keep walking anyway. And eventually, the path appeared.

What came after 2009 was everything we’d been building toward. The multiplication. The global expansion. The breakthrough that had been forming underground while I was questioning everything above ground.

If I had quit in 2009, none of it would exist. The twenty-one campuses. The global movement. The leaders who are now leading their own movements. All of it was on the other side of a season where I couldn’t see anything.

Don’t quit in the slow. The slow is often the final test before the flood.

Here’s a principle I believe every leader must embrace: Ten years before you plan to transition, you must have a succession plan—or be actively building one.

Not five years. Ten.

Because succession isn’t an event. It’s a process. It takes years to identify the right person. Years to develop them. Years to transfer the five batons. Years for the congregation to release one leader and receive another.

If you wait until you’re tired—until you’re ready to step back—it’s too late to do it well. The leaders who finish badly are almost always the ones who didn’t plan far enough ahead.

They become hostages to their own success because they never built an exit. Or they leave suddenly, and the organization collapses because no one was ready.

Ten years. That’s the rule. If you’re not thinking about succession a decade out, you’re not thinking about finishing.

Three things keep leaders from finishing:

Distraction. New opportunities distract from current commitments. New ideas distract from existing projects. Shiny objects pull you from the assignment God actually gave you. The enemy doesn’t need to stop you. He just needs to distract you. Nehemiah refused distraction. Enemies invited him to “meet” four times. Four times he said no: “I am carrying on a great project and cannot go down” (Nehemiah 6:3, NIV).

Discouragement. The middle is hard. The excitement of starting has faded. The reward of finishing is still far away. And discouragement whispers: “This isn’t working. Quit now. Try something else.” But Paul said, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9, NIV, emphasis added). The harvest isn’t for starters. It’s for those who don’t give up.

Delay. “I’ll finish later.” “Next month.” “When things slow down.” Things never slow down. Later never comes. Delay is just quitting in slow motion.

TRAINING FOR THE NEXT TWENTY YEARS

In 2024, I turned sixty.

I’d denied turning fifty. Wouldn’t celebrate. Still felt like my forties. But at sixty, reality hit. The runway is getting shorter.

A friend in his seventies said something I’ll never forget: “Do you know the hardest work I’ve ever done? Getting old. It’s hard work getting old.”

That smashed me. If I didn’t get intentional about health, I’d slide into decline. The body doesn’t maintain itself. It deteriorates. Unless you fight.

In 2025, I got CT scans. Full blood work. Saw results staring back that I didn’t like. Then I made a plan. Not vague. Real. Over ten months, everything flipped back to normal. Exercising daily. Eating better. Monitoring consistently. Results now say I’m biologically fifteen years younger than my actual age.

I’m training for the next twenty years. Because multiplication requires presence. You can’t multiply from a hospital bed. You can’t develop leaders if you’re too sick to meet them. You can’t finish strong if your body quits before your assignment does.

“Who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s” (Psalm 103:5).

Renewed like the eagle’s. That’s not poetry. That’s my plan.

THE 400-YEAR VISION

Let me tell you what I see.

It’s 2225. Two hundred years from now. My great-great-great-great-grandchildren are alive. Futures Church is 303 years old.

Twelve full-movement building teams run the movement. I see a council of elders—fathers and mothers of the house—keeping the tribes united in heart while they remain distinct in application of the mission. Each tribe has planted well over 300 churches—some far more than that. That’s thousands of locations across every continent. Hundreds of cities. Nations we haven’t even entered yet.

I see my descendants leading campuses. Leading tribes. All serving Jesus. I see one church in tens of thousands of locations, carrying the same heart for Jesus as we have today. Still focused on the lost. Still making disciples. Still hungry for more.

But here’s what keeps me up at night: What am I building now that can withstand 200 years of pressure and change?

Things will be radically different in 2225. I can’t predict how. Technology, culture, politics—everything will shift in ways we can’t imagine. So the question I’m working hardest to answer is this: How do I make the organization powerful and dynamic without becoming centralized like denominations have become?

John Wesley created something incredible. But over 200 years, the movement became an institution. The multiplication DNA was slowly replaced by institutional maintenance. Consequential structural decisions were made—mergers, consolidations—that may have been about survival more than mission. The lesson isn’t that denominations are bad. The lesson is that any movement—denominational or independent—can lose its multiplication DNA when it starts prioritising preservation over expansion. That’s the danger I’m trying to help you avoid. I want to create something different. Something just as dynamic as it is now. Just as desperate. Just as hungry for growth and expansion. Humble, but hungry. Aggressive, but grace-filled. Powerful, but serves everyone.

A structure flexible enough to change with the dynamics of the moment without becoming an institution or breaking into pieces. That requires a strong hold to the biblical pattern of Ephesians 4 leadership. A twelve-tribes structure that doesn’t limit big thinkers but gives expression to them.

One church. Tens of thousands of locations. Same heart. Same DNA. Same desperation for Jesus.

That’s what I see in 2225. And what you and I do and our character today determines whether that vision lives or dies. It carries capacity for grandchildren we will never meet.

They won’t know your face. They won’t hear your voice. They won’t read your social media. But they’ll stand on the foundation you’re building right now.

Every time you finish instead of quitting. Every time you push instead of fade. Every time you endure instead of compromise.

The harvest comes to those who don’t quit.

You’re not just finishing for you. You’re finishing for them.

Generation six is unborn. Generation seven isn’t even imagined. But they’re coming. And what you finish today determines what they can build.

So, here’s my charge to you:

Finish.

Finish developing the leaders you started with. Finish the transitions you began. Finish the assignments God gave you. Finish the multiplication efforts you launched.

Train your body for endurance. You need twenty more years of strength. Train your mind for consequential thinking. Play the movie forward before every major decision. Train your spirit for long obedience. The harvest comes to those who don’t quit.

Have the right people around you who can tell you the truth when you’re too exhausted to see clearly. Use the winning fuel to transition well—don’t let victory become the doorway to collapse. And start your succession plan ten years before you need it.

Don’t be a face that fades from view. Don’t be a name people say with regret: “They had so much potential...” Don’t be the leader who made it twice and lost it twice because you got complacent. Don’t be Elijah after Carmel—so emptied by victory that one word from Jezebel makes you want to die.

Be a finisher. Be someone who crosses the line with empty hands because you gave everything. Be someone generation seven stands on.

The altar is crowded with people who started well. The finish line has room.

PRAYER

Father, I confess—I’ve started things I haven’t finished.

*Distractions pulled me. Discouragement made me quit. Delay became my

pattern.*

*But starting is common. Finishing is rare. And I want to be a

finisher.*

*Give me consequential thinking—the wisdom to play the movie forward

before I act.*

*Give me the right people around me who will tell me the truth when

I’m too exhausted to see.*

Give me certainty that if I don’t quit, I will reap.

Help me finish: The leaders I’m developing. The transitions I’m making. The assignments You gave me. The multiplication efforts I started.

Give me twenty more years of strength. Renew my youth like the eagle’s. Help me build something that will stand for 400 years— not an institution, but a movement. Humble but hungry.

Aggressive but grace-filled. Powerful but serving.

I refuse to fade. I refuse to become a hostage to my own success.

I refuse to let victory become the doorway to collapse.

I will finish strong.

*For my children. For my grandchildren. For generations I will never

meet.*

In Jesus’s name. Amen.

Starting is common. Finishing is rare.

Finishing creates multiplication. Now go finish.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Law:

The loser is broken. But the winner is exhausted. Elijah called down

fire from heaven. Destroyed 450 prophets of Baal. Outran chariots.

Soaring. Then one word from Jezebel. And the man who had just called

down fire wanted to die. From supernatural victory to suicidal

despair. In twenty-four hours. The moment after victory is when you’re

most vulnerable. Exhausted leaders make stupid decisions. Exhausted

leaders can’t see clearly. Exhausted leaders are one word from Jezebel

away from wanting to quit. The battle isn’t just getting to the end.

It’s having enough left to finish well when you get there. Starting is

common. Finishing is rare.

The Shift:

Three things kill finishers: (1) Distraction—new opportunities

distract from current commitments. Shiny objects pull you from the

assignment God gave you. Nehemiah refused: “I am carrying on a great

project and cannot go down.” (2) Discouragement—the middle is hard.

Excitement faded. Reward still far away. But Paul said, “We will reap

a harvest if we do not give up.” (3) Delay—“I’ll finish later.”

Things never slow down. Later never comes. Delay is just quitting in

slow motion. The Ten-Year Rule: Ten years before you plan to

transition, you must have a succession plan. Not five years. Ten.

Succession isn’t an event. It’s a process.

The Audit:

I’m training for the next twenty years. My race isn’t over. My lane

will change, and I’m not running the lap of a local pastor anymore;

I’m building the stadium for the twelve tribes. Because multiplication

requires presence. You can’t multiply from a hospital bed. You can’t

develop leaders if you’re too sick to meet them. You can’t finish

strong if your body quits before your assignment does. “Who satisfies

your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the

eagle’s.” Renewed like the eagle’s. That’s not poetry. That’s your

plan. What am I building now that can withstand 200 years of pressure

and change? Your character today carries capacity for grandchildren

you will never meet. Generation six is unborn. Generation seven isn’t

even imagined. But they’re coming. And what you finish today

determines what they can build. Finish. Finish developing the leaders

you started with. Finish the transitions you began. Finish the

assignments God gave you. Don’t be a face that fades. Be a finisher.

The altar is crowded with people who started well. The finish line has

room. Now go finish.

Afterword

NO EXCUSES

EVERY EXCUSE ANSWERED

I know what you’re thinking.

You’ve read this book. You’ve seen the frameworks. You’ve heard the stories.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s a voice.

It’s whispering reasons why this won’t work for you.

Why multiplication is great in theory but impossible in your situation.

Why your church is different. Your context is unique. Your obstacles are real.

I’ve heard them all. I’ve sat across the table from leaders carrying every one of these. And I want to answer them honestly — not because your obstacles aren’t real, but because I believe your calling is bigger than your circumstances.

Let’s work through them.

EXCUSE #1: “I DON’T HAVE TIME”

Let me get this straight.

You don’t have time to develop leaders who will multiply your impact for generations.

But you do have time to do everything yourself until you burn out, get sick, or die?

That’s not a time problem. That’s a priority problem.

Jesus had three years. Three years to launch a movement that would reach every nation on earth. He could have preached to millions. Healed every sick person in Israel. Built massive crowds everywhere He went. Instead, He invested deeply in twelve men.

If the Son of God had time to multiply, you have time to multiply.

The question isn’t whether you have time. The question is what you’re spending your time on.

The truth: You have exactly the same twenty-four hours as every multiplier in history. The difference isn’t time. It’s what you choose to do with it.

EXCUSE #2: “I DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT PEOPLE”

Really? You don’t have the right people?

Let me tell you about Jesus’s people.

Peter: Loud, impulsive, denied Jesus three times. James and John: So hungry for power, they asked to sit at His right and left hand. Thomas: Doubted the resurrection even after the other disciples told him. Matthew: Tax collector. Traitor to his own people. Judas:

Literally betrayed Him.

These are the right people?

Not one seminary graduate. Not one polished leader. Not one person with a proven track record. Fishermen. Tax collectors. Zealots. Doubters. And they changed the world.

You’re not looking for the “right” people. You’re looking for hungry people. People in H.E.A.T.—Hungry. Effective. Adaptable. Transferable.

They’re in your church right now. You’re just not looking for them.

The truth: You don’t need perfect people. You need people who want more than they currently have and are willing to pay the price to get it.

EXCUSE #3: “WE DON’T HAVE THE MONEY”

Money. The excuse of a thousand dead churches.

Let me ask you something. How much did it cost Jesus to train the twelve? No buildings. No programs. No staff salaries. No conferences. Just a rabbi and twelve men walking from town to town.

Multiplication isn’t expensive. Addition is.

Addition requires you to pay for everything—every program, every service, every need. Multiplication requires you to invest in people who will pay for themselves and then some.

The reason you don’t have money is because you’re not multiplying.

The truth: You don’t need money to multiply. You need to multiply to get money.

EXCUSE #4: “OUR CHURCH IS TOO SMALL”

Too small to multiply? That’s exactly when you should multiply.

Small churches that don’t multiply stay small. Small churches that do multiply become big movements.

At Futures Church, we have campuses ranging from a hundred people to 7,000 people. And every single campus pastor carries the same mandate: multiply or die. The campus pastor leading a hundred people has the same assignment as the one leading 7,000. The same expectation. The same DNA. The same multiplication framework. Because multiplication isn’t about size. It’s about obedience at whatever scale God has given you. Some of our campuses are in country towns that have a population of 3,000 people, but they are still expected to multiply.

The early church started with 120 people in an upper room. Not 120,000. Not 12,000. Not even 1,200. One hundred and twenty.

And they multiplied until they turned the world upside down.

The size of your church is not the issue. The size of your vision is.

I’ve seen fifty-person churches plant three churches in five years. I’ve seen 5,000-person churches go thirty years without planting one. Size doesn’t determine multiplication. Obedience determines multiplication. Remember that God doesn’t look at the total number of people; He looks at the multiplication rate.

The truth: If you wait until you’re big enough to multiply, you’ll never be big enough. Multiplication creates size. Size doesn’t create multiplication.

EXCUSE #5: “I’M NOT READY”

Let me tell you something. You’ll never be ready.

Moses wasn’t ready. He was an eighty-year-old shepherd with a speech impediment. David wasn’t ready. He was a teenager with a slingshot. Peter wasn’t ready. He was a fisherman with anger issues.

Paul wasn’t ready. He was a murderer who persecuted the church. None was ready. God used them anyway.

Readiness is a myth. It’s a lie we tell ourselves to avoid the discomfort of obedience.

“I’ll multiply when I’m ready” really means “I’ll multiply later.” And then later never comes. You become ready by multiplying.

The truth: You don’t get ready and then start. You start and then get ready. God qualifies the called—He doesn’t call the qualified.

EXCUSE #6: “WHAT IF I FAIL?”

You will. Next question.

I’m not being flippant. I’m being honest.

If you multiply, some of it will fail. Some leaders will disappoint you. Some church plants won’t make it. Some investments will produce nothing. Welcome to multiplication.

I’ve had church plants fail. I’ve had leaders betray me. I’ve invested years in people who walked away. Chapter 2 is called “The Multiplication Graveyard” for a reason. I’ve got scars. Real ones.

But here’s what I’ve learned: the math still works.

Plant ten churches. Three fail. Seven succeed. You’ve got seven more churches than the guy who planted zero because he was afraid of failure.

Failure is built into multiplication. It’s the cost of obedience. But zero failures means zero multiplication.

The truth: The only way to guarantee you won’t fail at multiplication is to refuse to multiply. And that’s the biggest failure of all.

EXCUSE #7: “THEY NEED ME”

I understand the feeling. But let me challenge it.

The disciples thought they needed Jesus. Then He left. And they changed the world.

Jesus said it was for their good that He left. John 16:7. Look it

up:

“It is for your good that I am going away” (NIV).

The departure of the leader released the potential of the followers.

Your presence might actually be the thing that’s limiting them. As long as you’re there doing everything, they don’t have to grow. As long as you’re answering every question, they don’t have to think. As long as you’re making every decision, they don’t have to lead.

The truth: The greatest gift you can give your people is the space to become who God made them to be. Real leaders make themselves unnecessary.

EXCUSE #8: “I MIGHT LOSE CONTROL”

You might. And that might be exactly what needs to happen.

Control is the enemy of multiplication.

You can control an empire. You can’t control a movement. And you have to decide which one you’re building.

Empires are controlled. Movements are released.

Jesus released twelve men to do things He couldn’t supervise. They made decisions He didn’t pre-approve. They went places He couldn’t go. And Christianity spread because of it.

Control limits you to what you can manage. Release unlocks what God can multiply.

The truth: Letting go isn’t losing something. It’s making room for something bigger than you could hold on your own. Trust God. Watch what happens.

EXCUSE #9: “I’VE BEEN BURNED BEFORE”

So have I.

I told you about the Judas in chapter 2. Year seven. Trusted leader.

Tried to split the church. Betrayal cuts deep. I know.

But here’s what I also know: Jesus was burned, too.

He invested three years in twelve men, and one of them sold Him for thirty pieces of silver. He didn’t stop multiplying. He kept releasing. Kept trusting. Kept investing.

Because He knew something: The eleven who stayed were worth more than the one who left. The multiplication that worked outweighed the multiplication that failed.

Betrayal is the cost of trust. And trust is the cost of

multiplication.

If you stop trusting because someone hurt you, you’re letting the betrayer win. They didn’t just take what they took when they left.

They took your future multiplication, too.

The truth: Pain doesn’t disqualify multiplication—it qualifies you for deeper multiplication. Your scars are your credentials.

EXCUSE #10: “I’M TOO OLD”

Let me tell you about my grandfather.

Welsh coal miner. Born 1901. Said yes to God’s call as a teenager. Went to India.

But here’s the part that wrecks this excuse: At age ninety, he planted a church.

Ninety. Most people are thinking about rocking chairs and retirement. He was thinking about multiplication.

Moses was eighty when he led the Exodus. Abraham was a hundred when Isaac was born. Caleb was eighty-five when he claimed his mountain.

Age is not a limitation.

In fact, you have assets young leaders don’t have: Wisdom. Experience. Relationships. Resources. You’ve made the mistakes. You’ve learned the lessons. You can help the next generation skip what took you decades to figure out.

The truth: You’re not too old to multiply. You’re perfectly positioned for it. The only question is whether you’ll use your remaining years for multiplication or maintenance.

EXCUSE #11: “I’M TOO YOUNG”

Timothy.

Paul told him not to let anyone look down on him because of his youth. Then he put him in charge of the entire church at Ephesus (1 Timothy 1:3, 4:12).

Youth isn’t a disqualification. It’s a different qualification.

Young multipliers have energy. They have time. They have fewer bad habits to unlearn. They haven’t yet decided what’s impossible.

David was a teenager when he killed Goliath. Jeremiah was young when God called him to prophesy. Jesus chose twelve young men to change the world. God has always used young people for multiplication.

The truth: If you’re young and you start multiplying now, imagine where you’ll be in forty years. Don’t wait until you’re “established.” Start now. The math works better.

EXCUSE #12: “MY SPOUSE ISN’T ON BOARD”

This one is real. And it’s the only excuse in this list that deserves

very serious and careful handling.

Because marriage matters. Unity matters.

But here’s what I’ve learned in forty years of marriage: Most of the time, when a spouse “isn’t on board,” it’s because they haven’t been brought on board.

You haven’t cast the vision. You haven’t addressed the fears. You haven’t shown what’s in it for the family.

Jane and I didn’t start aligned on everything. We had to work at it. Talk about it. Pray about it. Today, we’re so aligned that she has her own chapter in this book.

That didn’t happen by accident. It happened by investment.

Read Chapter 10: “The Multiplication Marriage.” It’s possible. But it takes work.

The truth: If your spouse isn’t on board, your first multiplication assignment is winning their heart. Don’t drag them. Don’t override them. Bring them along. It’s worth it.

EXCUSE #13: “GOD HASN’T CALLED ME TO THAT”

I saved this one for last. Because it’s the most important.

Let me be crystal clear: *Multiplication is not a calling. It’s a

command.*

You don’t need a special word from God to multiply. You already have one. It’s in Genesis 1:28: “Be fruitful and multiply.”

The first command God ever gave humanity. Not a suggestion. Not an invitation. Not an option for the specially called. A command.

He repeated it to Noah. He repeated it to Abraham. Jesus made it His final instruction: “Go and make disciples” (Matthew 28:19).

The Great Commission isn’t for missionaries. It’s for everyone.

You don’t need God to call you to multiplication. He already did. In the beginning. And He hasn’t changed His mind.

The truth: The call has already been made. The question isn’t whether God has called you. It’s whether you’ll answer.

NO MORE EXCUSES

There they are. Just a few of the excuses I’ve ever heard. And every

one of them answered.

Not by me. By the Word of God. By the example of Jesus. By the logic of kingdom math.

You have no excuses left. Only decisions.

Will you multiply or won’t you?

Because here’s what I know. One day you’ll stand before God. And He won’t ask about your obstacles. He won’t ask about your circumstances. He won’t ask about your limitations.

He’ll ask what you did with what He gave you. And multiplication will be part of the conversation.

The question is: Will you have an answer, or will you have excuses?

Multiply or die.

No excuses. Start today.

The Multiplication Creed

I will not be an Addition Addict.

I refuse to build a monument to my own indispensability.

I will not hit the rock when God says speak.

I will trust the “New Grace” for my “New Chapter.”

I will lead from receiving, not producing.

Grace is my vehicle. Faith is my response.

I will multiply at home first.

I refuse to win the city and lose my sons.

I will leave the room so the mission can live. I am a Foundation, not

a Ceiling.

I will build for the 400th year.

My legacy is not my name, but the DNA that outlives it.

Stay Hungry.

Stay Holy.

Finish Well.

A Final Caution

Before you implement the systems in this book—the Twelve

Tribes Architecture, the Carver Governance Model, the mortgage-neutral strategies—you must heed this warning.

These systems run on the fuel of high trust.

You cannot install “distributed authority” in a culture of suspicion. If you try to build these structures without first establishing the culture of the kingdom—honor, integrity, generosity, and trust— the weight of the structure will collapse your organization.

High Trust + High Systems = Multiplication.

Low Trust + High Systems = Bureaucracy or Rebellion.

Do not try to build the mechanics of Futures Church without first building the heart of it. The culture is the soil. The system is just the trellis. Build the soil first.

About the Author

Ashley Evans comes from a missionary family whose service spanned

Africa, India, and Papua New Guinea — shaping his

lifelong conviction for missions, church planting, and the

multicultural nature of the church.

Today, Ashley serves as global senior pastor of Futures Church, a rapidly multiplying movement spanning four nations. Founded in 1922, the church has grown under Ashley’s leadership since 2000 from a single campus in Adelaide, Australia, into twenty-one campuses worldwide — with a vision to establish 200 campuses, raise 10,000 leaders, and reach 100,000 people with the gospel of Jesus.

Ashley is also CEO of Futures Global, a mission-driven organization providing systems, resources, and entrepreneurial initiatives to accelerate church planting and leadership development worldwide.

Ashley has held many significant denominational positions, including twelve years as a national director and ten years as state president of the Australian Christian Churches (ACC).

He is the founder of Family First, a successful political party that held the balance of power in Australia’s Federal Parliament alongside one other party for six years.

Known for his direct and passionate teaching style, Ashley brings Scripture to life with clarity, story, and prophetic insight — challenging leaders to think differently and live courageously. He holds a Doctor of Ministry (Hon).

Ashley’s life was transformed as a teenager through a powerful encounter with Jesus that set the course for his ministry and message. That encounter ignited a conviction that has never dimmed:

God’s people are called to multiply.

Ashley and Jane have been married for forty years and are partners in life and ministry. Together they have three sons — Mark, Nate, and Ben — all serving in ministry, along with a growing tribe of grandchildren. Four generations of multiplication.

God has given Ashley a deep revelation of the theology of multiplication. This book is the culmination of that conviction — and forty years of proving it works. Connect with Ashley at futures.church

Appendix — The Carver Governance Model

In chapter 7, I introduced what I call the Fence

Principle—define the “no” and release the “yes.” That principle

isn’t something I invented. It’s built on a governance framework

called the Policy Governance Model, created by Dr. John Carver. What

I’ve done is adapt it for the local church.

Most church boards govern with control and prescriptively. They try to approve everything. Every decision. Every expenditure. Every initiative. The pastor has to come to the board with a request, wait for a meeting, present a case, and hope for a vote.

That is governance by permission slip. And it will kill

multiplication. The Carver Model flips this entirely.

THE CORE IDEA

Instead of listing everything a leader can do, you define what they

cannot do. Everything else is a yes.

Carver calls these “Executive Limitations”—a short list of boundaries that define the edges of the field. Inside those boundaries, leaders have full authority to run, build, decide, and execute. No permission slips. No waiting for a meeting. No bureaucracy.

HOW IT WORKS AT FUTURES CHURCH

The board’s role is to understand and endorse the Carver governance

framework. The senior pastor implements it—setting the specific

fences for each leader based on their role, maturity, and context.

The board works with the senior pastor, but the senior pastor leads it.

Four Types of Policy

Carver organises governance into four categories. Here’s how we apply

them:

1) Ends Policies: What Are We Here For?

Your mission. Your vision. Your reason for existing. At Futures Church, our Ends are clear: plant churches that multiply across generations and continents. Reach 100,000 people. Raise 10,000 leaders. Establish 200 campuses.

2) Executive Limitations: The Fences

This is the heart of the system and the key to multiplication.

Instead of a long list of approvals, you write a short list of prohibitions. Here is the framework we use at Futures Church.

Leaders cannot:

» Make financial commitments outside the board-approved budget

» Appoint or remove campus pastors, board members, or elders

» Change service structures or plant new campuses without consultation

» Alter the theological DNA, core values, or mission of the church

» Enter into legal commitments—property, contracts, employment

agreements—without legal review

That’s it. Five fences. You may have up to eight, but you get the idea. It’s meant to be short and exclusionary.

Everything inside those fences? The leader decides. Today.

Without a phone call, an email chain, or a board vote.

3\) Governance Process

The board defines its own conduct and stays in its lane—vision, boundaries, and accountability.

Why This Works for Multiplication

Most governance systems are designed for control. The Carver Model is designed for release.

When you lead by permission slips, you can only move as fast as your slowest approval process. When you lead by bound-

aries, speed is the default. Initiative is the default. Multiplication

is the default.

The leader doesn’t ask, “Can I do this?” The leader asks, “Does this violate a fence?” If it doesn’t—go.

This is how you scale from one campus to twenty-one. This is how you empower a Josh Greenwood to run an entire nation’s operations with five fences and full authority.

A Word of Caution

The Carver Model runs on trust. If you don’t have trust between your board, your senior pastor, and your leaders, this system will terrify you.

Don’t start here. Start with the relationships. Build the trust. Prove the character. Then put the fences in place and watch what God does when leaders are genuinely free to lead.

Fences are not walls. Fences are what allow children to play freely.

The boundaries exist so that freedom can be real.

Recommended Reading

» John Carver, Boards That Make a Difference⁸

» John and Miriam Carver, Reinventing Your Board⁹