By Nicholas DeYoung

In my two decades of organizational leadership, I’ve learned that the healthiest churches are not always the ones with the biggest buildings or flashiest programs. They’re the ones who talk to each other—honestly, prayerfully, and consistently. The ones who dare to name hard things early, who ask better questions before the crisis hits, and who trust the Spirit enough to be both proactive and patient.

The truth is, most church boards spend the bulk of their time responding to what’s urgent. A budget shortfall, a staffing issue, a conflict brewing just below the surface. These are important matters, no doubt—but if they become the sole focus, we risk steering the ship with our backs to the horizon. Boards need space to step back and think intentionally about where the church is heading. They need to make time for the conversations that will shape their future, not just manage their present.

If you serve on a church board or lead one, I want to offer you three conversations I believe every board needs to have this year. These are not quick agenda items you rush through after approving the minutes. These are soul-searching, whiteboard-worthy, pray-and-discern-together kinds of conversations. Conversations that, if held with courage and humility, can strengthen your church for years to come.

“What Story Are We Telling?”

Every church tells a story—through its preaching, its programming, its budget, its hallway conversations. The question is: do we know what that story is?

Sometimes we inherit a story without even realizing it. Maybe it’s a story of survival—“we’re just trying to keep the doors open.” Maybe it’s a story of nostalgia—“we want to get back to how things used to be.” Other times, the story is deeply aspirational—“we want to be a church for the broken and the searching.”

But if your board hasn’t taken time recently to name and examine the story your church is living into, now is the time. What kind of people are we becoming? What kind of community are we cultivating? What are we known for in our town—not just what we hope people think, but what they actually see in us?

This is a theological conversation as much as it is a strategic one. Jesus constantly told stories to reveal the nature of the Kingdom, and your church’s story should reflect that same kind of kingdom imagination. Your story shapes your culture. It gives people a way to belong, to serve, to grow. And your board has a vital role in aligning decisions—budget, staffing, programming—with that shared narrative.

So gather around the table and ask one another, “If someone walked into our church this year, what would they walk away believing we truly care about?” The answers may surprise you—but they will also guide you.

“Are We Preparing for Leadership Transitions—Now?”

Here’s a hard truth I’ve witnessed again and again: churches that avoid talking about leadership transition until they’re forced to are almost always unprepared when the time comes.

Whether it’s the lead pastor, key staff, or long-time elders and deacons, every church will face seasons of transition. These moments can either fracture a community or clarify its calling. What makes the difference? Preparation.

Succession isn’t just about replacing a position—it’s about stewarding a mission. And it doesn’t start with a search team. It starts now. With honest conversations about leadership development. With identifying potential future leaders within your congregation—not just charismatic personalities, but people of character, humility, and spiritual depth. With open hands and willing hearts to ask: “Who are we equipping to carry this work forward, even if we’re not here to see it?”

I know this kind of conversation can feel uncomfortable, especially if your current leaders are still thriving. But it’s not a sign of disloyalty to plan for the future. It’s a sign of love—for the church, for the community, and for the mission of God that extends beyond any one person’s tenure.

So ask your board, “If any one of us had to step away tomorrow, are we confident in who would step in—and how we’d lead through that season?” If the answer is no, that’s your starting point.

“How Are We Practicing Spiritual and Emotional Health—Together?”

Church boards often carry the weight of major decisions, spiritual responsibility, and interpersonal tensions. And too often, they do so while neglecting their own health.

We assume that because we’re serving God, we’re fine. That our prayers before meetings and our quick check-ins are enough. But burnout, bitterness, and relational strain creep in silently. And when the boardroom becomes a place of emotional reactivity rather than spiritual discernment, the entire church feels it.

This year, I challenge your board to make space for a conversation not about what you’re doing—but about how you’re doing. How are we doing as leaders? As friends? As disciples? Are we creating rhythms of rest, silence, reflection, and mutual encouragement? Are we listening to one another deeply, even when we disagree? Are we growing in emotional maturity, or just getting more efficient at running meetings?

Boards that ignore these questions risk becoming transactional rather than transformational. But boards that lean in—to hard conversations, to prayerful reflection, to emotional honesty—can lead from a place of deep spiritual health. And that changes everything.

You don’t need to turn every board meeting into group therapy. But you do need to normalize a culture of care and accountability. Ask: “What does it look like for us to be not just decision-makers, but fellow followers of Jesus?” That question alone can start a healing and powerful shift.

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The church doesn’t need more reactive leadership. It needs faithful, discerning, Spirit-led teams who are willing to step back, ask better questions, and move forward with intention.

If you serve on a church board, my prayer is that you won’t just manage your calendar this year—you’ll shape your culture. That you’ll create space for these deeper conversations. That you’ll build trust, tell a better story, plan wisely for the future, and lead with the kind of quiet courage our world desperately needs.

And if you need help navigating these conversations, that’s what I do through Inkpad Coaching. You don’t have to figure it all out alone. But you do have to begin.

Because the conversations you have this year will shape the church you become next year—and beyond.