My name is Rick Glowacki, and I am the founder and director of Closing Churches Well. People often ask why I am interested in helping churches close.
I am an ordained minister and have served as a lead pastor for 35 years. I have also held leadership roles in local churches since becoming a follower of Christ in my early twenties. I love the local church. I have planted a healthy church, revitalized another, and pastored and ministered in multiple congregations over the course of my ministry.
“I love the local church. My calling has never been to abandon it—but to care for it, even in its final season.”
My heart for struggling and dying churches developed slowly—and painfully.
In every community where I served, I was part of local ministerial associations and built friendships with other pastors. In our conversations, stories of decline were common.
Friends spoke candidly about their frustration, exhaustion, and quiet doubts about whether their church would survive the next few years. Some wondered aloud if they had what it took to bring life and health to their congregation. Others wondered if their church would even exist in five years.
“Nobody taught us how to close a church” – Pastor Mark
I watched churches decline for years and eventually close—often without clarity, care, or dignity. Some congregations remained open with only a handful of elderly members. Others continued simply because no one felt empowered to say, “It is time.”
I heard of churches that stayed open until the last remaining member died or entered assisted living. I heard of others who voted to close because no one could climb a ladder to change light bulbs, or because the roof needed replacement, and there were no resources left.
“Churches around me were closing—but few were closing well.”
I began to ask deeper questions: Why do these churches remain open for so long? Who is caring for the people left behind?
Over twenty years ago, while reading Luke 13, a passage lodged itself deeply in my heart—the parable of the unfruitful fig tree.
“For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?”
Luke 13:7 (NIV)
Those words, “Why should it use up the soil?” would not let me go.
Almost immediately, I began asking that question of the many churches—across denominations—that remained open but bore no fruit. Why were they allowed to slowly drain spiritual, emotional, and financial resources? Why was this seen as loving?
“Sir… leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.”
Luke 13:8–9 (NIV)
Over the years, I watched the same pattern repeat itself. New pastors arrived with passion and vision. They worked hard, invested deeply, and led congregations to commit time, money, and prayer toward revitalization.
Little changed. Eventually, the pastor left, another came, and the process began again. Each one hoped to be the person who could save the church.
Transformation does happen—but very rarely. Research suggests that only five to ten percent of chronically struggling churches are revitalized into healthy congregations. Yet given the sheer volume of church-growth and revitalization resources available, one would assume renewal should be the norm. The reality is far more sobering.
The ending of the parable continued to trouble me. The tree was given one more intentional season of care—but not endless chances. Eventually, unfruitful trees are removed so the vineyard can flourish.
I know it can feel harsh—even unloving—to close a church. But Scripture presents discernment, stewardship, and fruitfulness as acts of faithfulness.
“Closing a church is not always failure. Sometimes it is faithfulness.”
I began to wonder if there was a better way: a method that evaluates honestly, invests wisely, and—when necessary—closes compassionately. A way that honors people, releases resources for new life, and acknowledges when God has already brought a season to an end.
These questions have stayed with me for years. The burden the Holy Spirit placed on my heart has never lifted.
That is why Closing Churches Well exists. I believe there is a better way.
My hope is to walk alongside churches and leaders during one of the hardest seasons of ministry—not to rush the ending, but to help them finish well.