Hey, it’s George.

Over the last few years, I’ve had more conversations than I can count with creatives who used to work for a church—and don’t anymore.

Most of them didn’t leave angry.

They left exhausted.

Quiet.

Unseen.

Or just unsure how to keep doing this without losing something of themselves in the process.

Some of them were worship leaders.

Others were filmmakers, graphic designers, photographers.

A few were multi-talented do-it-all types—those “Swiss Army knife” creatives that every church depends on until they burn out.

So why’d they leave?

And maybe a better question—what would’ve helped them stay?

Let’s talk about it.

A lot of churches say they want “fresh creativity,” but when the ideas come, they get filtered to death. Risk gets choked out by “the way we’ve always done it.” And before you know it, you’re designing Sunday slides on autopilot wondering why you even studied art in the first place.

Creating is vulnerable.

Re-creating is safe.

Only one of them keeps a creative alive.

We’ve all seen it. The same person is expected to:

…all while being “passionate,” “flexible,” and “low-maintenance.”

And lately, it’s gotten even heavier.

Now many creatives are also asked to recruit, train, and manage volunteers—expected not only to create, but to “replicate themselves” too. They’re told to be the visionary and the executor, the recruiter and the trainer, the coach and the one carrying it all on their back.

Whenever I do freelance work—whether it’s for a media firm, agency, or production house—there’s a whole team for every part of the process.

There’s a copywriter.

A videographer.

An editor.

A strategist.

A project manager.

Even someone just to keep the timeline moving.

But in most churches?

All those roles collapse into one person.

And that person is somehow expected to dream it, build it, manage it, delegate it, execute it, post it, and lead a team while doing it.

No wonder people burn out.

No wonder it’s hard to keep great creatives long-term.

Let’s just be honest.

Creative work isn’t cheap. The cameras, the software, the storage, the training—it all adds up. Most creatives are investing thousands of dollars into their craft long before they ever get hired by a church.

And here’s what makes it complicated:

We’re not in ministry for the money.

We know that.

We believe in the mission.

But believing in the mission doesn’t erase the bills.

I’ve talked to so many creatives who are pouring 40–60 hours a week into church work, using their own gear, training themselves on their own time, and still picking up freelance jobs just to make rent.

Meanwhile, outside the church?

They could be making double—or more.

Not just for less stress, but often with better equipment, clearer expectations, and actual teammates instead of doing everything solo.

This isn’t about chasing luxury.

It’s about sustainability.

Because if staying in church work means always being behind financially, always scrambling, always feeling undervalued… eventually something’s gotta give.

And unfortunately, it’s usually the creative.

This is the one I probably resonate with the most.

Some creatives didn’t leave because they lost faith.

They left because they had more faith—faith that their creativity could go further. That it could live in film, in storytelling, in culture, in conversations beyond the four walls.

They weren’t walking away from ministry.

They were walking into it—in a different form.

And instead of being celebrated or sent, they were made to feel like traitors.

But here’s the deeper issue:

Creativity never stands still.

It’s constantly evolving. Adapting. Stretching. Reimagining.

And the church?

Often 5 to 10 years behind.

We’re still copying trends from two seasons ago, still recycling the same series bumpers, the same graphics, the same worship lyric videos we made last Easter.

Meanwhile, creatives are watching their peers experiment, grow, take risks, and get better—because they’re working on projects that stretch them.

So what happens when a church creative says:

“I want to make a film.”

“I want to write a full album.”

“I want to tour and play shows.”

“I want to design something beyond just a basic t-shirt.”

Is there space for that in most churches?

More often than not, the answer is no.

Not because churches are trying to be limiting.

But because the system isn’t built for creative expansion—it’s built for creative support.

Which is fine, until the creative’s calling starts to overflow the system’s boundaries.

And when it does?

They’re left with two choices:

Shrink their calling to fit the system,

or step outside the system to grow.

Too many are choosing the latter—not out of pride, but survival.

If you’re a pastor reading this—hear me: most creatives don’t expect to be rich or famous. They just want to be trusted. Heard. Resourced. And given a lane to run in that doesn’t run them into the ground.

And if you’re a creative—especially one who’s walked away—I just want to say:

You’re not crazy.

You’re not weak.

And your story matters more than your skill set.

We need you in the Church. Not just for what you make, but for the lens through which you see the world. The Church is poorer without your voice in the room.

And if the room you were in didn’t make space for that?

Maybe it was never the right one to begin with.

🎙 Want to go deeper?

We talk about this at length in Episode 2 of the City On A Hill Podcast.

It’s a raw, honest conversation about burnout, leadership, trust, creative pressure, and everything in between.

▶️ Watch or listen to Episode 2 here →

Talk soon,

—George

P.S. If you’ve walked through any of this personally, I’d love to hear your story. Just hit reply. Let’s keep the conversation going.