Pastors are Falling
A Special Sunday Night Edition of Good Trouble
Pastors are falling. Recently, a pastor I served with—whose leadership I sat under for seven years—had a spectacular fall, living a duplicitous life. Someone who knew the relationship reached out to me and asked, "What's happening in Dallas? Can we trust anyone anymore?"
The answer, of course, is "yes." Pastors are falling, but not like you think. The large majority of pastors are faithful men. Really faithful. Honest. Hardworking. Men whose hearts are bent toward their congregation and toward seeing the Kingdom of God abound. You just don't know them. You don't see them. Most of them don't have time to parade around the preaching circuit or endlessly post their adventures on Instagram. They can't. They are too busy actually shepherding.
We forget that the vast majority of churches—around 85%—have fewer than 200 attendees. In fact, the average U.S. congregation consists of approximately 65 people. And these pastors, these shepherds, are largely faithful. Loyal. Good-hearted men. Men who are kneeling, not falling.
More often than not, when a "pastor" falls, it's not a shepherd who falls. It's a figure. A pseudo-celebrity. An entrepreneur. A personality who dabbled in shepherding but built their "ministry" on something other than Christ.
This weekend, I spent time outside of Birmingham, Alabama, with a group of rural pastors from Cropwell, Moody, Odenville, Eden, and Pell City. Tremendous men. Faithful men. They all had one thing in common: they loved the Bride. The local church was not their stepping stone, it was their calling. They weren't building platforms, they were building people. They weren't curating brands, they were carrying burdens. Their daily work was simple but glorious: helping ordinary people look a little more like King Jesus.
Jesus promised: "I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it" (Matt. 16:18). That promise was not made to celebrity brands or para-church fiefdoms, but to flesh-and-blood pastors, deacons, and members who gather week after week in small towns and neighborhoods.
Richard Baxter, the great Puritan shepherd, wrote in The Reformed Pastor: "Take heed to yourselves, lest your example contradict your doctrine … Many a man's preaching has been ruined by his living." Baxter was reminding us that faithful shepherding is not about dazzling the crowds but about living humbly and consistently before God's people. John Owen pressed the same urgency: "A minister may fill his pews, his communion roll, the mouths of the public, but what that minister is on his knees in secret before God Almighty, that he is and no more."
Faithfulness isn't glamorous, but it is glorious.
So, can we trust Pastors? Are there any faithful churches? Absolutely. You just need to know where to look. I know a few. They are laboring right past RuRu's Country store, about 7 miles on the left, where Logan Martin Dam Road intersects with the Alabama pines.
Do not mistake what I am saying… Pastoring a large church does not make you a bad guy. I was saved in a large church. I've got brothers, men like Tim Dunn and Kyle Reno, who faithfully shepherd thousands.
What I am saying is that a large platform makes you vulnerable to dangers that other pastors may never face. The scale is different. The pressures are different. The temptations are different. I once had a pastor confidently tell me he was in "the 5K club," a fraternity for pastors of churches with more than 5,000 members. I threw up a little in my mouth. Numbers don't impress heaven the way they impress earth.
So, if you are a pastor of a large church, check your spirit. Often. Being on a pedestal, that high, for that long, in front of that many people is crazy dangerous. Look at King Uzziah. Scripture says, "But when he became strong, he grew proud, to his destruction" [2 Chron. 26:16]. The moment he believed his own press clippings, he stepped into the temple and tried to play priest, and God struck him with leprosy. Pedestals rot men from the inside. Sin is never passive. It either gets mortified daily or metastasizes quietly until the fall becomes public.
And I need this word as much as anyone else. In fact, I am writing this to myself. I speak to thousands, and tens of thousands regularly read this blog. How do we guard against pedestal danger?
Cultivate anonymity. Do things no one sees. Serve where there are no lights, no cameras, no applause. Clean up after events. Do the work of the ministry without posting it. Jesus said that the Father, who sees in secret, will reward you.
Invite ruthless accountability. Have brothers who can pull you aside and say, "Your tone was off. Your eyes looked proud." Don't just have cheerleaders. Have truth-tellers.
Stay close to the sheep. Don't let the stage separate you from the smell of the flock. Eat meals with normal people. Hear their stories. Rejoice when they rejoice and mourn when they mourn. Above all else, shepherd.
Preach the gospel to yourself daily. Remind yourself that apart from King Jesus, you are dust. Success does not make you a son. Failure does not make you less of one. The gospel levels the ground under the pulpit.
Remember… It's not wrong to be seen by many. It's wrong to forget that the One who matters most sees straight through you.
For the King,
— Harp
PS — For my brothers with a large platform who are constantly posting on socials… clean it up. Stop flaunting your favor. Your vacations. Your circle of influence. The pictures of you [or your wife] where you ignore any sense of modesty. Stop it.
Two years ago, my team and I were invited to do a conference on the island(s) of Hawaii. It was an incredible privilege. A trip and chance to serve the Lord, that, beyond the generosity of others, would have never happened.
Before wheels up, I met with the team and told them "no pics." No Instagram stories. No live feeds. We need to avoid flaunting God’s favor, even accidentally. Many people struggle and save simply to go to Destin, much more Maui. But here we are, afforded the opportunity of a lifetime. I told them, "Be grateful. Praise the Lord. Let’s serve His people, His church. And if we catch a few waves while doing it, the world does not need to see it…"
Your call to the 5K'ers to walk humbly in the eyes of others was truth-telling. No one at a church who is struggling to make ends meet, who faithfully pays their tithes, who ask their mega-church for financial assistance, who are told their isn't any money in the benevolence fund right now to help, want to see their pastors on vacation, or want to see how the church used the benevolence fund on more stage props and more fancy advertising material for the next monthly series. I see people with genuine church hurt just by asking for help, being told "we can't ", then having to sit through yet another Broadway worthy sermon with all the bells and whistles that money can buy to try and sensationalize the gospel.
Bro this is what we need. We need the faithful. I praise God I am in a small rural corner of the country and don’t have a large “following”. I don’t need another snare in my life looking to bring me down. I won’t be asked on judgement day how many likes I had or how many people I influenced, I am going to be judged on my faithfulness to the calling God has placed on my life. We need less famous and more faithful.