Fellow pastors, beware of the danger of the ordinary Sunday. Protect your heart. As Solomon says, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life” (Proverbs 4:23). Don’t allow the challenges of leadership to let you grow calloused toward God or God’s people. It is the ordinary Sundays that contain the snares that lead to the scandals.

Another week, another leadership scandal in the evangelical sphere. The world we live in today heightens our awareness of those offenses (and it’s likely more transgressions are exposed), but it’s also fair for the American Christian to shake their head and wonder if they can trust any leader. How could a leader who was given so much make choices that cost so much? Church scandals cut deeper than cultural scandals because they are a personal offense. Congregants wonder how someone they trusted could have been living a double life the entire time.

Yet it is not the “double life” where the enemy sneaks in. It is in the ordinary.

The reality is that I have the same monster of self-righteousness, the same ogre of pride, the same tendency toward defensiveness as many of those who have been exposed. And pastoral ministry is uniquely tailored to expose and then exacerbate those sins.

Let me share the story of a recent Sunday—a fairly typical day.

I pull into our beautiful church parking lot and notice a McDonald’s cup on the ground. Bending over to pick it up, I spill my coffee. Heading into the building, I see that a volunteer has already blown our sidewalks clean. He must have come before sunup. What a guy. I head to the bathroom to clean my now coffee-stained pants. It won’t quite come out. I’m irritated with the person who littered, frustrated with my clumsiness, and embarrassed that I’m going to be preaching with coffee-stained pants.

I settle into my loveseat and review my sermon notes, praying for my heart and the congregation. I greet my co-lead pastor, Greg, and we catch up on our Saturdays. A staff member pops her head in. She’s navigating a weighty family situation and shares how she’s doing. She turns the conversation, “Have you seen the blistering comments on your blog post yesterday?” I hadn’t. She shares the comments with me, and my stomach churns. I realize that I will have to step into a conversation with this congregant.

Three congregants bless me by showing up for our early pre-service prayer time. Our shared conversation with the Lord encourages me, prompting me to pray for the day in ways I hadn’t considered and to wait for the Lord. I leave refreshed.

The difficult conversation comes faster than expected. The congregant who blasted my post shows up early to church, and I decide it is appropriate to engage with him. He remains unmoved; my exegesis in the blog post was non-biblical and highly problematic, and his public response was proportionate and appropriate. My blood pressure rises. In my flesh, I want to put him in his place. I encourage him to consider that there is a rich history of interpretation around this text and that both of our expositions are well within the bounds of orthodox interpretations. He is unyielding. I encourage him that if he has issues in the future, it would be best if he approached me personally. He believes that because my communication is public, a public response is necessary. I’m getting nowhere. I feel the pressure in my chest. Why did I have this conversation now? I’m frustrated at him and myself. I decide to let the disagreement lie. I’m late to my post at the gate where I welcome people.

Read More