How Evangelical Churches Are Being Remade from Within
In 2019, I began investigating how social justice ideology was creeping into evangelical circles. Initially, my focus was on the ideas and influencers driving this shift, as outlined in my books. But as I continued researching, a darker pattern emerged: reports of calculated, behind-the-scenes efforts to infiltrate and redirect churches—often without the congregation’s knowledge.
The stories I uncovered were alarming. Church members described tactics that included silencing dissent, rebranding ministries, and redefining theological language—all with the goal of aligning churches with more progressive cultural values. Most spoke under strict anonymity, fearing backlash from institutions they were still connected to.
Three cases—with whistleblowers willing to go public—stood out so strongly that I produced documentary films capturing the internal battles these churches endured. These were not isolated events but part of a broader, coordinated push connected with the Southern Baptist Convention, the largest Protestant denomination. What also became clear is that leftist politics are just one piece of a much larger agenda to fundamentally transform American evangelicalism. This is not merely about changing voting habits. It is about remaking churches from the inside out—gutting their traditions, weakening their communities, and converting them into sterile, modern, and pliable social centers.
What we are witnessing is nothing short of an assault on the identity of American Christianity.
This article serves as a wake-up call and a practical guide. By identifying the patterns and strategies behind these takeovers, churches can protect themselves before it is too late. This is not just an ideological skirmish—it is a strategic campaign backed by powerful, well-funded institutions with grand ambitions.
First Baptist Church: Naples, FL
In November 2019, a call from former members of First Baptist Church in Naples, Florida, shifted the course of my work for years to come. Mike and Teri Dolan had been devoted members and served as Sunday school teachers at a vibrant Southern Baptist megachurch, where nearly 3,000 worshippers gathered each Sunday in one of Florida’s most steadfastly conservative strongholds. The congregation, affluent and influential, once counted Charles Colson—former Nixon advisor and Prison Fellowship founder—among its ranks. In February 2019, Pastor Hayes Wicker, who led the church for 27 years and tripled its size, was abruptly dismissed and banned from the campus under mysterious circumstances. Now, the Dolans faced a similar fate as they were stripped of their membership, branded as “racist,” and banned from church property for taking a stand against some of the most powerful voices in their denomination.
After freshly graduating from a Southern Baptist seminary and launching a podcast earlier in 2019 to counter the social justice narratives I encountered there, I was already earning a reputation as a vocal critic of “wokeness” within the SBC. Stories poured in from across the denomination, with members and workers sharing accounts of troubling shifts in churches and entities. Yet nothing prepared me for what I discovered a month later in Naples, where I joined Judd Saul and Cary Gordon of Enemies Within the Church to document the testimonies of faithful members who were left hanging out to dry by their own church.
Alongside the Dolans, nearly twenty other families were excommunicated and slandered as “racists” for resisting church leaders’ efforts to make Marcus Hayes, a young black pastoral candidate, the next senior pastor. These included dedicated members like Liz Appling, who was publicly mocked from the stage of her church for sharing concerns over Hayes, Lou Falorio, who discipled Christians in the thriving “Car Care” ministry, and Tom Hoffman, who was raised, baptized, and served in the church from the time he could remember. Hayes failed to meet the church’s constitutional requirement of having already served five years as a senior pastor. More troubling was the fact that on social media, Hayes had also promoted Eric Mason’s book Woke Church and efforts to force multiculturalism in church settings. He confirmed these sentiments in person during a question-and-answer session at FBC in which he expressed sympathy for Black Lives Matter’s aims— despite distancing himself from its militancy—and denied that same-sex attraction was sinful. These positions and other ministry concerns led 19% of the congregation to vote against him, and despite FBC leadership’s push for a revote, Hayes withdrew. Yet this clash was merely the tip of a deeper, more divisive iceberg.
Haye’s candidacy was connected to a chain of events that had not started with his candidacy and did not end with his withdrawal. Essentially, his involvement was the final step in a process of changes that had started as early as 2016 when the church went from elder led to committee led under the direction of John David Edie, an executive pastor who had been at FBC for three years at that point and whose father had strong ties to the denomination’s International Mission Board.
Mike Dolan, a deacon, noticed that senior pastor Hayes Wicker was content to “focus on the spiritual role” while Edie took “over everything else.” This caused a shift in power as committees under Edie started running the church while eliminating volunteers and ministries, such as Operation Christmas Child, which one former member who ran that ministry told me Edie had targeted because it drew too many resources away from the church. Other changes included ceasing to support an orphanage in Tanzania and ditching the church’s “Car Care” ministry, in which volunteers helped disadvantaged people maintain their vehicles as a way to evangelize the community. These changes were just the beginning though.
In February 2019, Hayes Wicker, the revered pastor of First Baptist Church of Naples, was forced to resign, compelled to sign a non-disclosure agreement, and barred from the church campus following an anonymous letter alleging financial impropriety—claims he later denied. Right before Wicker’s departure, Executive Pastor John David Edie enlisted Auxano, a consulting firm tied to Southern Baptists like David Putman and the SBC’s publishing arm LifeWay, to help steer the church’s future. Deacon Bob Caudill, who had also served as principal of the school connected with the church, shared with me a book Auxano used called Next by John Ortberg, which promoted things like younger leadership and ethnic diversity as the path forward. Bob’s wife, Katy Caudill, announced that people like Edie and pastoral search committee chairman Neil Dorrill repeatedly spoke of “fundamentally changing First Baptist,” with plans to eliminate things like the women’s ministry, church weddings, the Awana youth program, and possibly establish satellite churches. The Dolans told me that as a symbolic gesture, Edie took down the golden shovel used to break ground that had been prominently displayed at the church and replaced it with bolt cutters that signaled the church needed to break the chains that held it down. These changes seemed to go beyond mere improvements and challenged the church’s core identity.
In the wake of Pastor Hayes Wicker’s unexplained ousting, First Baptist Church of Naples was reeling, with congregants wary of sweeping changes and ministry cancellations. Into this unrest, SBC leaders—largely unknown to the congregation—pushed Marcus Hayes’s candidacy as a done deal. Out-of-state pastors Robby Gallaty and Bruce Frank delivered video endorsements during services, implying Hayes was already chosen. NAMB President Kevin Ezell declared the church “blessed by God” for Hayes, assuming his installation before any vote. SBC President J.D. Greear sent a glowing recommendation, while search team chairman Neil Dorrill, with Hayes beside him, proclaimed him the region’s most prominent African-American leader, who would take FBC Naples to “a new level within the Southern Baptist Convention.” For a conservative congregation uneasy about Hayes’s “woke” views, his lack of qualifications, his novel ideas—such as replacing Bible study teachers with “facilitators”— his belief that the “heart of the gospel is social justice,” along with the SBC’s heavy-handed influence, this coronation-style campaign was a recipe for disaster.
That disaster came after October 20, 2019, when Marcus Hayes failed to meet the margin necessary to become the next pastor. Without any proof, on the 31st, leadership at First Baptist sent a public letter to the Southern Baptist Convention claiming that Hayes did not meet the 85% threshold because of “racial prejudices” that represented a “cancer” within the church. Immediately, a swarm of support for the leadership at FBC and a condemnation for the alleged racists flooded social media from Southern Baptist leaders like J.D. Greear, Bart Barber, and Russell Moore. To add insult to injury, many of the excommunicated families also received cease and desist letters from the church warning them about using church related imagery or contacting members.
In the lead-up to the October 2019 vote for Marcus Hayes, First Baptist Church of Naples grappled with a 27% budget shortfall compounded by an estimated 1,000 members leaving amid the year’s turmoil. Executive Pastor John David Edie resigned in December 2019, and Jonathan Akin, the director of Leadership Development for the North American Mission Board and son of Southeastern Seminary President Danny Akin, served as interim pastor. The pastoral search committee unanimously nominated Dr. Eric Smith to be their next senior pastor in 2020, but the process was scuttled under the influence of Jonathan Akin, according to a letter from Dr. Smith to FBC leadership. The church remained without a permanent leader until August 2021, when Alan Brumback, a trustee for the International Mission Board and part of the SBC’s progressive-leaning Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission’s Leadership Network, was appointed senior pastor, starting September 2021.
After filming for the documentary entitled The Story of First Baptist Church Naples was completed, I reflected on the emotional and personal stories we encountered. Liz Appling had left South Africa, partly driven by her revulsion for Apartheid. The Caudills ran the orphanage in Tanzania that the church no longer supported. The Dolans adopted minority children. Another member had been a cornerstone of the Spanish ministry. To frame these people as “racists” was only possible under twisted social justice logic.
As a pastor’s kid, I could also easily see that the people booted from the church were the kind who make up the backbone of ministry. They were not simply Sunday morning pew sitters but members who, in many cases, had been there for decades and volunteered their time and money to make FBC Naples what it was. It was their home. And, without their approval, their home had been taken from them by revolutionary forces that wanted more than just an upgrade. This was about something bigger.
The righteous anger I felt fueled hope that FBC Naples’ story would serve to warn other churches and thankfully, it did. Curiously, SBC elites like NAMB President Kevin Ezell and then-SBC President J.D. Greear showed intense interest in a Southwest Florida church’s pastoral choice—whether driven by money, political sway in a swing state, or other motives. Since then, new insights have clarified the troubling operational tactics and motives present in the largest Protestant denomination.
McClean Bible Church: McLean, VA
The release of The Story of First Baptist Church Naples in late 2020 spurred members of an even more prominent and politically significant church to confront their new pastor, David Platt, after noticing striking parallels with the Naples situation. They believed external forces were orchestrating a hostile takeover of McLean Bible Church in Vienna, VA, and seeking to dismantle its traditional ministries, push left-leaning political views, and silence dissenters. Unlike the Naples situation, MBC members pursued legal action, where they uncovered disturbing evidence of the Southern Baptist connections and financial improprieties that led to their church’s demise. These revelations inspired me to help produce a 2024 documentary, The Real David Platt, which chronicles their story.
Like FBC Naples, McLean Bible Church had a good reputation in the community and many thriving ministries. Lon Solomon, the former pastor of MBC, built the church from a couple of hundred people in 1980 to around 16,000 attendees before David Platt replaced him in 2017. Because of MBC’s proximity to Washington, D.C., its Bible-teaching focus, and its patriotic flavor, the church was a hub for Republican political figures and even attracted President Trump during a 2019 service. But, like the situation at FBC Naples, Lon Solomon’s departure was sudden. He stated in 2016 that he had no intentions of leaving McLean Bible Church, but the next year, he left, having been “removed by the elders from all operational involvement” and signing a separation agreement that prevented him from commenting on the changes that surrounded his departure.
Unlike First Baptist Church Naples, McLean Bible Church was non-denominational and explicitly prohibited denominational affiliation under Article 1, Section 2 of its constitution. However, this policy was breached in 2017, coinciding with David Platt’s appointment as Lead Pastor in September. In August 2017, a letter was sent allegedly on behalf of MBC’s elders to the Southern Baptist Convention requesting partnership with the denomination. However, Craig Proulx, an elder for over 25 years and treasurer of the elder board, claims the elders were unaware. The letter referenced two key figures: Dale Sutherland, a Lead/Executive Pastor at MBC, who had coordinated with Kevin Ezell, president of the SBC’s North American Mission Board, and Clint Clifton, a NAMB missionary to Washington, D.C., and leader of MBC’s church-planting arm, the New City Network.
Dale Sutherland also worked behind the scenes to facilitate Platt’s hiring, advising him that neither Pastor Solomon nor the church elders understood the significance of the emerging SBC partnership. Platt, the bestselling author and founder of Radical Ministries, was then president of the Southern Baptist Convention’s International Mission Board, but he was disillusioned by the SBC’s dishonest politics, which he admitted to engaging in. He left that role shortly after joining MBC, but curiously still wanted the church to be closely affiliated with Southern Baptist efforts.
It was around this time that Platt asked Sutherland to find a way to increase SBC giving to $300,000 in order to rank MBC among the denomination’s top 20 giving churches. He had already informed Paul Akin, his senior aide at the IMB and son of SBC Seminary president Danny Akin, of his intentions to send money to the SBC of Virginia. By 2018, the New City Network updated its website to include the fact that MBC was in “partnership with the Southern Baptist Convention,” and by 2021 the church had contributed over $2 million dollars to the denomination, hiding much of it in line items like senior management, administration, and possibly a “box budget” line item that alluded detection. MBC was listed in the SBC’s online church directory, and both Platt and his wife were approved as messengers to the denomination on behalf of the church. Clearly, McLean Bible Church was now a member of the largest Protestant denomination despite its non-denominational restriction.
As violating as these changes were to the way the church was set up, they largely went unnoticed and perhaps would have remained that way except for the fact that they accompanied other serious violations to the character of the church. Platt wanted to “change the way we’re thinking about church,” which translated into reprogramming the members and leadership to adopt a newer “intergenerational multi-ethnic” ministry model. To this end, he introduced a class titled “The Gospel, The Church, Justice, and Race,” which included teachings aligned with Critical Race Theory, such as advocating collective repentance for historical racial oppression. Platt criticized Christians for not acknowledging race, failing to be sufficiently anti-racist, and not prioritizing diversity enough. He expressed regret for praying for President Trump in 2019, citing Trump’s alleged ties to “racial division and injustice” and even justified voting for pro-abortion Democrats in the lead-up to the 2020 election.
One joint sermon by David Platt and Mike Kelsey, who had transitioned from a satellite location pastor to the newly created role of Pastor of Preaching and Culture at MBC’s main campus, left a strong impression on John Pidgeon, a church security team leader. During the sermon, titled “Racial Reconciliation,” Platt wore a black shirt while Kelsey, a black man, wore a white shirt, as they both addressed racial issues in a way that many perceived as divisive. Pidgeon later remarked, “At the end of the sermon, we were all a bunch of inherent racists.” This was very different than what congregants of McLean Bible Church were accustomed to.
These new priorities also began to replace—or fundamentally alter—the legacy ministries of the church. Shortly after becoming Lead Pastor, David Platt appointed David Young, a business consultant, as Executive Pastor. Despite the church elders’ disapproval of Young’s influence, he reportedly remained on the payroll in a covert manner. It was he and Platt’s strategy to end most of the discipleship groups at MBC, calling them “shallow” and “unhealthy,” instead replacing them with larger, more controlled groups that could include up to 100 people.
This ended the kind of intimacy, flexibility, and depth that came with home Bible studies and frustrated home group facilitators like Ruth Jeantet, who had served the church since 2008. The clothing ministry, which supplied free clothes to people in need, was also ended, as was the ministry library, which supplied resources to ministry leaders. The church also reduced the participation of white singers in the music ministry, which limited the participation of long-standing members like Katie McDonald. These abrupt changes disrupted the sense of community and purpose that had defined MBC, leaving many dedicated volunteers disheartened.
While people were filtering out of MBC during these changes, ultimately reducing the size of the church by as much as half, Platt also replaced the church’s core leadership. Craig Proulx said that staff members who disagreed with the new direction were either cut or forced to leave. Michael Russell Lynch, who had been at the church for two decades and led the “Discovering the Word” community group, reported that every member of the “old guard” was deposed and replaced with David Platt’s “proxies.” Both brand new and newly elevated pastoral staff members like Nathan Reed, Todd Peters, Britten Taylor, Eric Saunders, Mike Kelsey, Joe Carter, and Wade Burnett all had Southern Baptist connections, and some of them became known for their left-leaning views. For example, MBC published a video of Saunders comparing gender dysphoria to the hypostatic union, and Mike Kelsey talked about wanting to “torch all white people” in the wake of George Floyd’s death. All of these negative changes, combined with the fact that David Platt projected an unapproachable demeanor regarding members’ concerns, formed the perfect storm in 2021.
During a congregational meeting on March 31, church member Laura Burke questioned Platt about MBC’s affiliation with the Southern Baptist Convention. Platt evaded the question, prompting Laura’s husband, Jeremiah, to present evidence of the church’s SBC ties and move to dismiss Platt as pastor for violating the church’s non-denominational constitution and lying about it. In response, Jeremiah’s microphone was cut off, and he was escorted out by security. Lucius Thompson, head of church security, attributed Jeremiah’s actions to a broader “mental health crisis” affecting the nation. Yet, less than two weeks later, Platt asked SBC Executive Committee representative Ashley Clayton to send a letter to his elders clarifying that MBC was not part of the denomination.
On June 30, the church held a vote to confirm three potential elders—Chuck Hollingsworth, Jim Burris, and Ken Tucker—whom David Platt wanted on the board. Because of all the issues at the church surrounding Platt, the confirmation vote failed to reach the 75% threshold necessary. Instead of accepting the results and electing a new elder board as the church constitution required in such a case, Platt decided to hold a second election on July 18, 2021. This time, the results were manipulated through the use of an open ballot and by purging approximately 400 members from the rolls without notification. Among those excluded were Chuck Wright, whose family helped found MBC with 25 members in 1961.
These developments, combined with intimidation tactics such as sending accusatory disfellowshipping letters and avoiding now former members who wanted clarification about their status, led to a lawsuit from members against the church in the Fairfax General District Court. The lawsuit alleged the church’s relationship with the Southern Baptist Convention was a violation of their church constitution. MBC spent nearly $1 million to block the lawsuit or get it dismissed, but their attempts failed. Attorney Chap Peterson noted, “Once we got the information, it was a matter of getting it out to the public… that will be the victory in this case.”
It was from the discovery in this case that my editor, Andrew Joyce, and I, working with former members of McLean Bible Church, were able to produce a two-part documentary on the entire saga. From this project sprang the formation of the Church Reform Initiative, made up of former McLean members dedicated to preventing similar crises in other churches. Shortly after releasing our documentary in 2024, I called Jeremiah Burke, who sits on the board for CRI, and told him about a small church in Knightdale, NC that had experienced something similar to them. In March of this year, we packed up our camera equipment and headed to North Carolina.
Faith Baptist Church: Knightdale, North Carolina
We arrived at Faith Baptist Church in Knightdale, NC, on February 16 for the first service held in the sanctuary since the Sunday before Easter in 2024. The jubilation was palpable. People were smiling, crying, and hugging one another in the foyer before even entering the service. Some older couples had arrived hours early just to sit in the sanctuary. During the service, multiple prayers, bursts of applause, and even the sound of a shofar from the back of the church marked the joyous occasion. It was the first time I had seen a church successfully defeat a threat like this and return to what it had been—at least as close as it could be—before the attempted takeover.
Like McLean Bible Church, the story of Faith Baptist begins with the hiring of a new pastor. Jason Little was not widely known, though some locals supported his hiring because he had grown up in Knightdale. Still, he had connections. A 2019 graduate of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary (SEBTS), he had pastored in Colorado before accepting the senior pastor role at FBC. At some point, he became connected with J.D. Greear and Summit Church and joined a plan to dissolve Faith Baptist—a non-denominational church of around 350 people—and help facilitate a takeover of the property by Summit, a 12,000-member Southern Baptist megachurch.
Having graduated from SEBTS in Wake Forest, NC myself, I was already familiar with Pastor J.D. Greear and his multi-campus church, The Summit, which served as the flagship church of the Southern Baptist Convention during his presidency from 2018 to 2021. Greear, also an SEBTS alumnus and visiting professor, was a prominent figure at the school. Many of my classmates attended his Durham-based church or one of the twelve other campuses throughout the Triangle area. During Greear’s tenure as SBC president, he became known for his social justice views, including calling the phrase “Black Lives Matter” a “gospel issue” that required examining police systems, and for using DEI metrics in making committee appointments. Both his views and style were out of step with the more traditional Faith Baptist Church.
FBC Knightdale reflected the image of a typical American Bible-believing church, marked by patriotism, a strong family atmosphere, and active ministry and community involvement. Under founding pastor Gary Williams, the church grew to 350 members within three years. In 1991, it moved from a local library to a new building on what was once a cow pasture—now a 30-acre campus. In 1993, Pastor Williams resigned and was succeeded by Pastor Mick Bowen, whom congregants remember for his warmth—he was known to send personal birthday cards to everyone in the church. He then retired and, in 2021, supported Jason Little as his replacement. Before Little’s arrival, FBC had thriving ministries for every age demographic, active outreach programs, regular conferences, and a choir well known in the community for its excellent music.
However, that all started to change not long after Little took the reins. Little’s approach, like Greear’s, saw pastoral duty as first to the Kingdom of God, then to the local church. From Little’s perspective, Faith Baptist needed to fundamentally change if it were to accomplish its mission. Under his direction, the church engaged a church growth consulting firm, The Unstuck Group, at significant cost, to observe and make recommendations. At least one member of the committee that interfaced with the firm described Jason as heavily promoting the group and unwilling to reconsider using their consultation.
Pretty soon, major changes were happening in the church. Little replaced both the choir and orchestra with a more contemporary rock band set up, stating that he wanted people to feel included and not uncomfortable. For Bill Iffland, who played the trombone, and his wife Ruth, who played the piano—both having served in the music ministry for over twenty years, it was a hard ministry to give up. Other ministries were also ended, such as morning Sunday School in favor of Life Groups, the seniors’ group, the children’s program Awana, vacation Bible school, and a quilting ministry.
During this transition, the church became both more casual and noticeably sterile. Pastor Little opted for jeans, sneakers, and an untucked shirt instead of a traditional suit. The American and Christian flags were removed from the sanctuary, reportedly because they were seen as distracting from Christ and potentially offensive or intimidating to people from different cultures.
The children’s ministry center—once designed to resemble a small village complete with a mock garage and movie theater—was stripped bare at a cost of $43,000. In fact, nearly every room in the building was cleared of furniture, appliances, and equipment. Walls were repainted an office gray that seemed to mirror Summit Church’s branding. Even the iconic red roof was repainted gray, and there was reportedly discussion about removing the steeple altogether. In the words of member Matthew Holder, who took care of the grounds and maintenance, Little had “wiped our identity in the building.”
But the church lost more than just the character of its building. Hundreds of members left—many following the dismissal of the beloved music director, Shawn Bradshaw. Other long-standing staff were also let go, including church clerk Doris Reed, an original member whose husband, Bobby, had been the church’s first deacon and whose funeral had been held there. Reflecting on her forced retirement, Doris said she received “a plaque, a bouquet of flowers, and a broken heart.”
Beginning in the 2023 term, a majority of the men on the leadership team were part of Pastor Little’s inner circle. He also brought on an additional pastor, Matt Betts, to share the preaching responsibilities. However, neither Matt nor Jason had the relational temperament typically expected of pastors. Jason often left immediately after services and did not make visitations—unlike the previous pastors at Faith Baptist. This further contributed to the church’s decline in health and morale. Pastor Little had an idea, though.
In October 2023, Pastor Little announced that the church was facing a financial crisis. On December 10, Jon Wallace, the church treasurer, detailed what he alleged were eight years of massive losses, citing, for example, a $144,000 deficit in 2016 and highlighting similarly large shortfalls in the years that followed. However, in a deposition the following year, Wallace admitted he did not know how the numbers were calculated or who had prepared them. Despite this, these figures were used at the time to justify a drastic change.
By that time, rumors were already circulating that Jason Little intended to “sell the church to Summit”—a claim that member Brian Hopper Sr. confronted him with during the December 10 meeting. Later, emails and text messages confirmed Hopper’s concerns, revealing that Little had been coordinating with Summit Church pastor Daniel Simmons since September to “explore Summit’s interest in [Faith Baptist’s] property and buildings for a permanent Knightdale location.” Little had also consulted Summit’s Communications Director, Amy Whitfield, regarding the church’s bylaws and granted Summit’s CFO, Todd Ervin, “full access” to financial records in advance of the meeting.
From that point on, plans were set in motion to effectively dissolve Faith Baptist Church and transfer its assets to Summit Church. This was repeatedly framed as a “merger” under the awareness that some members of Faith would be apprehensive about the plan. Pastor J.D. Greear was excited about the opportunity and recorded a video to be shown at Faith Baptist ahead of the proposed “merger,” in which he sought to ease concerns about going from a smaller church with a preaching pastor to a megachurch campus with video-based preaching.
Finally, on January 21, 2024, Jason Little formally announced to the congregation that church leadership planned to merge with Summit Church as a solution to the alleged financial crisis. By that time, the former church treasurer had already informed Brian Hopper Sr. that the financial figures presented at the December 10 meeting were inaccurate. Additionally, some members had stopped receiving church communications after being reclassified as “inactive”—a designation never previously used in the church’s history. There was also growing opposition among members to relinquishing the church’s preschool, which Summit intended to close once the merger was finalized.
In response to these concerns, and after futile attempts to resolve the disagreement, a group of members called “Defenders of Faith” came together to save the church. They hired attorney James Lawrence to draft a letter requesting clarification on how such a merger would align with the church’s bylaws since Faith’s constitution forbade denominational affiliation. The letter also asked for details about the church’s membership roll, financial status, and for the reinstatement of active members removed from the active list—such as Bill Iffland, who was removed a day after asking leadership for financial clarification. Written in a spirit of conciliation, the letter was met instead with a threatening response from the church’s law firm, warning that off-duty officers would be present to trespass members deemed inactive during the upcoming congregational vote on March 3 that would determine whether the merger would take place.
As the vote drew nearer, Summit Church’s involvement with Faith Baptist deepened. Amy Whitfield was actively advising Faith’s leadership on how to address member concerns—including helping draft a FAQ document. Discussions also began regarding severance packages that Summit would provide to Faith Baptist staff following the merger. Meanwhile, Jason Little was seen giving Kivett Hicks, pastor of Summit’s Knightdale location, a tour of the student center. Even the parliamentarian overseeing the upcoming merger vote was paid by Summit.
On February 18, J.D. Greear visited Faith Baptist for a one-hour meet-and-greet, during which he shared his personal testimony and vision for a ministry partnership. However, his presentation did not sit well with some members. DiAnn Murphy, a founding member, felt he came across as self-promotional, while Shaun Ciliano, a volunteer with the Hands and Feet of Jesus ministry, found it odd that Greear emphasized that the first person he had ever baptized was a black child, as though the child’s race was significant.
What concerned members most, though, was how Greear handled difficult questions from those skeptical about the merger. DiAnn’s husband, Lloyd Murphy, asked if Greear had a business-related interest in the merger, given the property’s estimated value of around $25 million. Greear denied the claim, insisting it was about ministry, but many remained unconvinced.
Just before the vote on March 3, and after church leadership denied requests for mediation, the Defenders of Faith filed a lawsuit and a motion for a temporary restraining order. They challenged whether the meeting had been properly noticed, whether members were disenfranchised, whether the denominational affiliation clause in the church’s constitution was violated, and whether the severance payments violated the church’s rule against dissolution for personal gain. Leadership believed they had secured the majority needed to dissolve the church, with an eight-vote margin. However, concerns arose over the involvement of Summit Church members who had recently started attending, along with around 25-30 proxy votes, mostly connected to church leadership. Additionally, 183 members had been moved to the inactive list, including Gerald Hayes, a Vietnam veteran and a dedicated member for over 15 years. Hayes had met the church’s active membership requirement by attending the previous three Sundays, but was still denied a vote by Jon Wallace.
The following day, during a hearing for the temporary restraining order in Wake County Superior Court, Hayes spoke out, saying, “It seems like we were inactive, but our money was active.” The Defenders of Faith won their temporary restraining order, and Kivett Hicks told Jason Little he was satisfied “if [Summit did not] get the property.” However, Hicks also mentioned that J.D. Greear was “in fight mode,” and Faith Baptist leadership proceeded as if the dissolution would still take place. On Easter Sunday, a sunrise service was held under the pavilion, but the main service was canceled. Rather, an open invitation was given and posted on the doors to join Summit’s Easter Service. No additional in-person services and only two online services were held afterward. Jason Little preached for the last time at Faith Baptist on April 14, having signed a contract with Summit to “provide expertise on building strong local church partnerships in the Triangle area.” Meanwhile, Matt Betts had already been listed on Summit Church’s website as Associate Campus Pastor for Knightdale.
From that point, both Faith Baptist and Summit leadership waited for the outcome of each hearing, with representatives from Summit attending the court proceedings. According to Kivett Hicks, most Summit leaders were prepared to walk away in case of a negative ruling, but J.D. Greear was not yet ready to concede. David Gibbs III, the attorney supporting the dissolution, argued that the accusations about the March 3 election were similar to the discredited “conspiracy” claims about the 2020 presidential election. Ultimately, this defense failed. On April 19, Defenders of Faith were granted a preliminary injunction, halting the dissolution process. Faith Baptist leadership was ready to resign and allow the congregation to elect new leaders.
Then, on April 23, Jason Little and J.D. Greear had a conversation. While the details of their discussion remain unclear, the following day, Jon Wallace consulted with a bankruptcy lawyer. On May 10, Faith Baptist filed for bankruptcy in federal court in the Eastern District of North Carolina, which froze all state court actions, including the injunction, until the bankruptcy case was decided. On the same day, Summit Church injected $170,000 into Faith Baptist, purportedly to “advance the gospel in Knightdale”—at a time when the church was shutting down all remaining ministries. Clearly, a good portion of this money would be used to pay for legal expenses.
The Defenders of Faith group, which had been meeting in the former children’s building, found the church doors locked and decided to hold their meetings in an outdoor pavilion. When the preschool closed, no trespassing signs were posted. At the invitation of a Spanish church, which leased the student center, what remained of Faith Baptist’s congregation began meeting there. However, Faith Baptist leadership ended the Spanish church’s lease on June 6, a puzzling move given the income the lease provided to a church that claimed to be struggling financially. It was later revealed that a member of the Spanish church had offered $400,000 to help pay down Faith Baptist’s debt, but this offer was never presented to the congregation. Either way, the Defenders of Faith group had to find another location, and they eventually moved their meetings to a nearby barn used for weddings and other events.
As the legal proceedings continued, Summit Church’s strategy shifted. A deposition for J.D. Greear was scheduled at 10 a.m. on December 4. Summit Church filed a motion to prevent Greear’s deposition from being shared on social media, but the judge rejected the request. The day before the deposition, the parties settled the dispute. What could have ended in disaster became a beautiful ending as Faith Baptist recalled their original pastor, Gary Williams, back to the church and recommenced ministry in 2025.
Throughout the entire saga, two things stood out. The first was the sense of entitlement some church leaders, including pastors, displayed—believing they could get their way without considering the impact on their congregation. Messages between key players revealed a general expectation that people would simply fall in line with their plans. For example, comments like Kivett Hicks saying, “I’m in for blasting away at the chairs,” while the remaining church members were forced to meet outside under a pavilion, bringing their own chairs, reflected a blatant disregard for the very people their plans were supposed to serve.
The second notable thing was the unwavering determination of the Defenders of Faith group to prevent their church from being overtaken. Many of them were long-time, older members, grounded in their faith and their commitment to the church. They stepped out in faith, even when unsure of how they would fund their efforts, putting their money where their mouths were to protect what they believed was right. In the end, they won, and their story is documented in the three-part documentary: Defending Faith Baptist.
Local Churches Meet the Managerial Revolution
It was striking to me that three churches of varying sizes and locations faced remarkably similar challenges. In each case, the changes began with the arrival of a new pastor and the influence of individuals tied to Southern Baptist networks. Where once there were caring, personable pastors attuned to congregants’ needs, younger leaders arrived with modern formulas for church growth and diversity. Predictably, each church shrank as more involved and long-standing members left. Yet, the new leadership seemed unalarmed, often viewing these members as threats to their agenda. Shifts in church governance also left these members without recourse. At FBC Naples and FBC Knightdale, John David Edie and Jason Little, respectively, used a committee system to advance their agendas, while at McLean Bible Church, although power rested with an elder board, David Platt seemed able to bypass the board when necessary.
Ultimately, legacy ministries were dismantled, existing leadership was replaced, and consulting firms were brought in. McLean Bible Church may be an exception regarding consultants, but it is notable that Wade Burnett, an executive pastor hired in 2020, was a senior partner at MultiSite Solutions, which merged with The Unstuck Group. Similarly, David Young introduced a ministry model rooted in his business consulting experience. These changes set each church on a path to lose its heritage and defining traits. Things like Sunday School, Bible study, and small groups—core elements of community—were radically altered to fit novel approaches. Older members, in particular, felt disregarded as a more casual ministry style took hold. Pastor Jason Little even cited resistance from “old Faith” church members at one point.
Social justice themes also emerged. At Naples and McLean, this was more pronounced. At Faith Baptist, actions like removing American flags—justified as avoiding offense to other cultures—seemed to align with a “woke” agenda. Members opposing various shifts faced severe marginalization, including unfair loss of voting rights and labels like “racist” or “divisive.” Financial improprieties surfaced, too, though less is known about FBC Naples due to the absence of a lawsuit.
In essence, the pattern seems clear: install new leadership with ties to larger institutions bent on revolutionizing the church, centralize control among loyalists, hire outside “experts” to reinforce the vision, erase the church’s prior identity, push the new agenda rapidly, and silence dissent.
The most unsettling part in all of this is wondering how many churches have been destroyed or fundamentally altered without making headlines. Discovery in the Faith Baptist Knightdale case revealed correspondence from January 2024 between an attorney for Summit Church and Pastor Jason Little. The attorney acknowledged “risk” in accelerating a unification with Summit Church but noted Summit had “used [the approach] before successfully.” This raises questions about how often large multi-site megachurches like Summit target smaller churches, acquiring their assets to implement a standardized approach where congregants watch Pastor J.D. Greear on a screen each Sunday.
Jim Tomberlin of The Unstuck Group claims nearly 40% of multi-site churches expand through mergers or building acquisitions. If all this is true, it suggests the managerial revolution has come to more than just megachurches, but also impacts smaller congregations. For some communities, local churches are the last non-corporate entities, yet mass-produced, one-size-fits-all formulas are being imposed by innovative young leaders sold on a new vision. The loss of traditional churches—steeples, hymns, choirs, formality, and old ministries—erodes regional character and a vital refuge from market forces. Unless congregations are engaged and resist these efforts, this heritage, too, may vanish.
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