Big sins almost always begin as little compromises: lingering looks, raunchy entertainment, lurid rabbit trails on social media, YouTube videos that get seedier and seedier. When we justify “little” sins, we invite bigger sins to track us down—and over time, with the help of Satan and the algorithm, they will.

Like every pastor who has been in ministry for many years, I’ve seen a number of moral failures among my ministerial colleagues. Just in the past year or so, I can count at least four men—each of whom I knew personally (at some level)—who are now out of the ministry because of disqualifying sin. I don’t write this article to sit in judgment on these men. I pray for them, as well as for their families, their churches, and those they have sinned against. The road ahead for these men will be hard and long (if they are willing to travel on it), but we worship a God who is eager to forgive when we humbly confess, earnestly repent, turn from our sins, submit to those in authority over us, and trust in Christ alone. 

(It also bears mentioning that forgiveness from God does not necessarily mean restoration to public ministry.)

Whenever a high-profile case of disqualifying sin comes to light, it is easy to wonder how such a catastrophic fall was even possible. The incredulity is especially pronounced in cases of sexual sin. We think to ourselves, or say to our friends, “What was he thinking? How could he have been so foolish? Didn’t he know that he would get caught? Why would you sacrifice so much for so little?”

But of course, sin doesn’t work by the rules of rationality. There is no rational calculation that can explain why men would throw away a lifetime of ministry faithfulness for a few moments of fleeting pleasure. The lusts of the heart do not submit to cold-hard facts. No one sets out on a sexual liaison because he weighed out the pros and cons of such behavior. Satan masquerades as an angel of light. He is a master at deceiving his servants, and sometimes we are masters at deceiving ourselves. You can count on it as an irrefutable law of fallen human nature: sin makes you stupid.

This irrefutable law—true for every Christian—is especially true for ministry leaders. I am writing for you, brother pastor. I’m writing for you, seminary student. And I’m writing for me, because publishing books and speaking at conferences does not give you an elixir against stupidity. If anything, it can be a poison that dulls your spiritual senses.

Diagnostic Truths for Dangerous Times

It seems like we are hearing of pastoral failures more than we used to. It’s hard to know if the number of pastoral failures is actually increasing, or if we simply have access to information that might have gone unnoticed (or not discovered or broadcast) in previous generations. No doubt hyper-connectivity of our digital age is part of the equation. But it may also be the case that actual pastoral failure is increasing too.

Think about it: Travel has never been easier. Communication has never been easier. Privacy has never been easier. Being ensnared in the vice of pornography has never been easier. Encountering sexual images and content has never been easier. It’s not hard to see how increased temptation may be leading to increased transgression.

Unfortunately, there are no foolproof solutions to guarantee that Christians never commit adultery or that pastors never commit disqualifying sin.

At the same time, there are realities that we can consider—and pray that we do not forget—that can help safeguard our souls.

Here are ten things my fellow pastors (and all Christians, for that matter) should consider frequently and perpetually, lest sin makes us stupid.

1. Consider if you are faithful in private and personal devotions. 

An otherwise faithful man may fall into sudden sin in a moment of weakness, but I’ve never known a pastor in habitual sin who was at the same time fervent in daily prayer. There are no shortcuts to holiness. 

The minister should also beware when he’s begun to take shortcuts in sermon preparation. I need slow, deliberate sermon preparation to feed my own soul. My heart will grow cold and unfeeling if I regularly preach sermons that I’ve preached before, or that I cribbed from someone else, or that demand little of my time and even less of my soul.

2. Consider if you are more eager to be away from home than to arrive back at home.

Even if you love travel for its own sake (which I don’t), you still should be excited every time you get to come back to your wife and kids.

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