Ministry Composting: Turning Failures into Fertile Ground
By W.J de Kock, ThD
Educational Consultant to Partners in Ministry
Professor of Practical Theology at Palmer Theological Seminary of Eastern University
8 minute read
It’s late in September, Spring snuck in with the smell of cut grass and last night’s rain, and the compost heap starts to steam like a kettle coming to a boil.
This is Australia’s quiet miracle season: yesterday’s scraps becoming tomorrow’s nourishment, peelings and prunings turning into the dark, living soil that makes everything else possible. Compost doesn’t look impressive—no one posts a selfie with a bin of banana skins—but this is where the garden’s future is made, out of what didn’t work, what hurt, what we thought was useless. Ministry is much the same. God is very good at taking what we discard and working it into a slow, holy transformation that feeds what comes next, the kind Romans calls suffering becoming perseverance, perseverance becoming character, and character becoming hope.¹
Biblical composting starts here: nothing wasted, not even the stinkiest bits.
Paul’s chain in Romans 5 isn’t motivational fluff; it’s agronomy for the soul, a divine soil science where pressure becomes patience and patience becomes a kind of tested fibre that can carry hope without snapping.² Hope is not the garnish at the end; it’s the fruit of rot turned right, the ripe tomato grown from a thousand unglamorous turnings. In the economy of resurrection, waste is just raw material in the wrong place.³
Out back, the compost bin teaches the spiritual alchemy no textbook can: add what’s been thrown away, turn it gently, keep an eye on the moisture, then trust the underground work that doesn’t need supervision.⁴ The worms and microbes—the tiny, tireless congregation no one thanks—go about their ministry, and the heat rising off the pile is its own kind of prayer, an incense of unseen labour. There’s a rhythm to it: add browns and greens, then wait; add confession and gratitude, then wait; add what failed and the kindness offered anyway, then wait. Compost is patient, which is to say, compost is hopeful.⁵
Ministry has its own bins if leaders are willing to use them.
A gratitude journal, but for the flops and fizzles: the program that didn’t land, the sermon that misfired, the conversation that ended in silence—recorded without self-flagellation, tagged with “to be continued by grace.” A regular supervision session where disappointments get turned over before they mat and sour, air worked in so the Spirit can breathe through the tangle. A circle of trusted peers who refuse to let a hard season go to waste, who ask the gentle, necessary questions until heat gives way to humus.⁶
This is where the “From Little Things, Big Things Grow”7 principle kicks in—not as a slogan, but as stubborn truth learned from country and from history. The Paul Kelly and Kev Carmody anthem sings of Vincent Lingiari and a patient, moral composting of injustice into a harvest of land rights; small acts, turned over in community, became soil strong enough to grow change.⁸ In ministry, small repentances, small apologies, small experiments—kept, turned, and trusted—become the rich loam where future courage takes root.
To make compost, the gardener has to stop pretending scraps are a problem and start treating them as a resource. The same is true of a church year.
That tense staff meeting everyone wishes to forget? Into the bin: named, blessed, converted into nutrients for healthier conversations. That outreach that drained volunteers and baffled the neighbourhood? Turn it in with gratitude for what it taught, then let the microorganisms of wisdom go to work. The pastoral exhaustion that feels like spent grounds at the bottom of the plunger? Stir it through with rest and supervision; in time it will feed different ways of working.
Composting refuses the shame story that says failure is final. It writes a soil story instead.
Of course, composting requires more humility than heroics. The big gesture is less helpful than the regular turn with a garden fork and a curious heart. Reflection calendars help—ten minutes on a Friday to ask, what needs adding, what needs air, what needs moisture, what needs time? The point isn’t speed; it’s heat plus patience in the presence of life. Compost won’t be hurried, and neither will the Spirit’s work in griefs and missteps. The promise is that, in due season, the pile that once looked like failure will feed the very thing prayer has been aching for.⁹
Then there is also the matter of ratios.
Good compost is part green, part brown, and all grace. Too much green—fresh disappointment, raw anger—and the pile turns slimy; that’s where gratitude steadies the mix, naming small gifts until the heat steadies. Too much brown—dry analysis, tidy minutes without heart—and nothing breaks down; that’s where honest lament moistens what’s brittle so learning can seep in. Supervision and community keep the balance: enough air to breathe, enough structure to hold shape, enough warmth to welcome the invisible workers God sends to do their quiet miracle.10
One of the wonders of compost is the time lag. What gets thrown in today becomes soil months from now. That lag is mercy for ministers: there is no need to make instant meaning out of every setback. Put it in the bin. Turn it when it’s time. Sleep. Repeat. Trust that the Spirit loves slow work, and that future ministry will draw strength from the dark places being transformed underfoot. Compost is the opposite of spin; it is truth told at the speed of earth.11
And then, one morning, there it is: the pile has gone from “why did we try that?” to a crumbly, chocolate-cake soil that smells like rain. In it go the tomatoes and the basil and the daring new thing no one had the energy to try last year. This is why none of it was wasted. The conflict taught courage, the failure taught focus, the barren season taught prayer without performance. Hope, says Paul, doesn’t put us to shame—not because we never mess up, but because even our mess can be made to feed the future. 12
If the three earlier posts have traced the winter’s arc—stretching through winter’s wall, celebrating small wins in the ordinary, pruning with courage as spring begins—then composting is the secret engine beneath them all. Stretching gives the pile air. Small wins toss in the greens of gratitude. Pruning supplies the browns of spent growth. Composting—this patient, prayerful, practical trust—turns the whole lot into soil sturdy enough for a summer of fruit. It is Australian to the core: backyard, hands-on, a little bit scruffy, endlessly hopeful, and made for sharing over a cuppa when the first tomatoes arrive.13
So here’s the gentle seasonal nudge.
Start a bin for the ministry heart. Label it clearly: Not Waste—Future Soil. Add what didn’t work, say thank you, and turn it in prayer when the calendar says it’s time. Invite a wise supervisor to help balance the mix. Ask a couple of brave friends to stick their hands in the pile with kindness. And hum the chorus while you work, because in this backyard kingdom, it turns out to be true: from little things, and from last things, big things grow. 13
Notes:
¹ Romans 5:3–5, NIV, Bible Gateway, accessed December 31, 2018, https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+5%3A3-5&version=NIV.
² Romans 5:4, translations and commentary, BibleHub and BibleRef, accessed 1994–2024, https://biblehub.com/romans/5-4.htm; https://www.bibleref.com/Romans/5/Romans-5-4.html.
³ Romans 5:3–5 cross-references with James 1:2–4 and 2 Peter 1:3–9, ESV, accessed 2024, https://www.esv.org/Romans+5:3–5;James+1:2–4;2+Peter+1:3–9/.
⁴ Steve Taylor, “Composting As A Spiritual Practice,” Godspace, July 14, 2009, https://godspace.wordpress.com/2009/07/15/composting-as-a-spiritual-practice/.
⁵ Shalem Institute, “Composting our Lives,” January 3, 2009, https://shalem.org/2009/01/04/composting-our-lives/.
⁶ “A spiritual compost pile,” OUT FRONT, December 19, 2013, https://www.outfrontmagazine.com/a-spiritual-compost-pile/.
⁷ “From Little Things Big Things Grow,” Wikipedia, accessed 2024–2025, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/From_Little_Things_Big_Things_Grow.
⁸ Brighton Secondary School, “From Little Things Big Things Grow,” November 13, 2021, https://music.brightonss.sa.edu.au/from-little-things-big-things-grow/.
⁹ Steve Taylor, “Composting As A Spiritual Practice,” Godspace, July 14, 2009, https://godspace.wordpress.com/2009/07/15/composting-as-a-spiritual-practice/.
10 “A spiritual compost pile,” OUT FRONT, December 19, 2013, https://www.outfrontmagazine.com/a-spiritual-compost-pile/.
11 “From Little Things Big Things Grow,” Wikipedia, accessed 2024–2025, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/From_Little_Things_Big_Things_Grow.
12 Romans 5:3–5 cross-references with James 1:2–4 and 2 Peter 1:3–9, ESV, accessed 2024, https://www.esv.org/Romans+5:3–5;James+1:2–4;2+Peter+1:3–9/.
13 Brighton Secondary School, “From Little Things Big Things Grow,” November 13, 2021, https://music.brightonss.sa.edu.au/from-little-things-big-things-grow/.