When grief comes at the news of a fallen brother, don’t waste it. Look at your patterns and habits. Look at your walk. Look at your marriage. Look at your relationships. Look at your time alone. Be ruthless in dealing with anything the Spirit graciously exposes that might be a tipping point into moral failure. Be humbled by God’s grace that has protected and sustained you.
My mentor phoned me. His voice broke telling of another pastor disqualified over sexual sin. We didn’t see it coming. Neither of us imagined this man would be blind to the destructiveness he warned others against.
How does a pastor fall? He carelessly slides in his daily walk, neglects vigilance against sin, presumes on God’s grace, fails to see his marriage as a gospel testimony, stops shepherding his flock, and loses sight of gospel hope.
It usually happens gradually. Long-practiced disciplines get ignored in the pace of ministry. He starts to skip devotion times, fails to die to sin, and overlooks spiritual renewal. He becomes prideful in knowledge and haughty over opportunities; he believes the hype about his greatness. His failure in disciplines and attitudes opens the way to roving eyes, giving into voyeurism, and loosening prudent boundaries like the Billy Graham rule. As Charles Spurgeon warned, “It will be in vain for me to stock my library, or organise societies, or project schemes, if I neglect the culture of myself.”
Rather than feeling numb to the multiplying falls, I’m prompted by each to give attention to my walk and to fight presumption.
Don’t Waste Grief
My mentor’s call grieved me 32 years ago. But at this stage, every disqualification seems to intensify my grief, exposing the weakness of my flesh and the danger of my calling: weakness because when a brother goes down, I’m forced to take another look in the mirror; danger because I’m viscerally reminded that the Adversary seeks someone to devour (1 Pet. 5:8–10).
In these moments, I ask myself questions: Rather than pointing a finger at my brother’s weakness, am I soberly reminded that I may be similarly tempted (Gal. 6:1)? Do I see my weaknesses and run to Christ (Eph. 5:3–13)? Do I hear the Spirit’s warning, spurring me to “pay careful attention” to myself (Acts 20:28)? Do I sense both external and internal spiritual dangers—Satan and the flesh (Eph. 6:12; Gal. 5:16–21)? Am I alert to the deceptions of pride telling me, “Oh, don’t worry, you’d never do that” (Prov. 16:18; Jer. 17:9)? Do I give devoted attention to loving my wife as Christ does the church (Eph. 5:25–29)? Do I maintain accountability with my wife, fellow elders, and pastor friends (James 5:16)? Do I think of the irreparable harm to the church when failing to be an example to the flock (1 Pet. 5:3)? Do I heed Richard Baxter’s urging: “Take heed to yourselves, lest your example contradict your doctrine, and lest you lay such stumbling-blocks before the blind, as may be the occasion of their ruin”? Do I live with the consciousness that I’ll give an account to the Great Shepherd (Heb. 13:17)?
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