Preachers are sinners, too.
Preachers are sinners, too.
Pastor, the gospel you preach is for you.
As one whose job is to prepare and deliver sermons weekly, I can testify to the fact that there is an underlying tendency to bring God’s Word to bear in the lives of your parishioners while also failing to do the same in your own heart, soul, and mind. Preachers can very often busy themselves with explaining and applying the significance of the Scriptures without pausing to reflect on their own soul’s yawning need for what those Scriptures announce — namely, that every poor, wretched, and miserable sinner are welcome to “draw near to the throne of grace, that [they] may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:16). Sometimes, that sense of need is difficult to nurture when you are constantly prioritizing the needs of those to whom you are called to lead and shepherd.
It is important to distinguish this phenomenon from the pestilent and performative piety that is exposed in Matthew 23 when the Lord Jesus prosecuted the Pharisees for failing to practice what they preached (Matt. 23:3–5). This, of course, is brazen hypocrisy. What I am referring to, however, is not so much nefarious as it is a consequence of the strains of ministry. Part of what it means to minister to others is pouring out your heart, soul, and mind for their sake. Indeed, ministry is an absorbing occupation that can very easily drain you of all your energies and resources. The exacting pace of the modern pastorate makes for a very spiritual treadmill on which to exert yourself. Activity and busyness, then, can become tantamount to religious fervor.
But before long, this approach buckles under the pressure to keep performing and to keep up appearances. Jonesing for pastoral approval, online or otherwise, is a shortcut to disaster. If you don’t believe me, just Google “pastors who’ve fallen” to read one of the more disheartening lists on the Internet. This is why pastors and ministers must be conscious of their own soul’s needs even as they strive to meet the needs of others. “It’s not enough to preach grace,” writes pastor and writer Lewis Allen in his Preacher’s Catechism, “we need it ourselves” (20). Even though this perspective chafes against our modern sensibilities of put-togetherness and polish, there is no more hopeful or helpful paradigm by which pastors conduct their ministries. Allen continues:
The cross is all too often a doctrine to get right, to preach well, to keep believing, and to share in our evangelism. All of that is right and essential. We can do all of that, though, and yet live with unmoved hearts. We can subscribe to the truth of the cross but not be moved by it. We can understand penal substitutionary atonement, gather all its supporting verses, and even preach it with conviction; but we must feel its truth and be gripped by its power in our own lives . . . We need the cross more than we need anything else. (171–72)
In my own experience, despite how often I champion the sublime truths of God’s grace for those in my congregation, it requires even more intentionality on my part to see myself as one who stands in desperate need of that same grace. Not because I don’t think I’m the “chief of sinners” — I know that all too well — but because the velocity of my ministry responsibilities seems to leave little time for deep and careful contemplation of just how profound my needs are. When this feeling crops up, it’s usually a consequence of far too great a reliance on my own capacity for ministry rather than trusting in God’s Word and Spirit. The point I’m trying to make is that it’s hard to pour yourself out if you’re running on empty. “Spiritual vibrancy is not a result of our external exertion and activity,” writes Jeremy Writebol, “but a byproduct of our remaining connected to and drawing nourishment from the source of life directly” (91).
Pastor, slow down if you can. (By the way, I’m preaching to myself, here.) Don’t hurry through the finer points of the doctrine of the cross, but be unhurried and unbusied by all other considerations and pause when you get to Golgotha. All the horrors of that scene were endured for you. The nails, the spear, and the thorns were suffered by the Savior on your behalf. Yes, you who preach the word and wear the collar. The passionate preacher is the one who feels in the deepest parts of his soul that the message with which he has been entrusted by God is not only one that his congregants are in need of but one that he himself is desperate for as well. “To be a pastor,” writes Jeremy Writebol, “is to go back to the gospel again, and again, and again, and again, and again” (95). Pastor, the gospel you preach is for you, too. Champion it well but cherish it even more. The sinner for whom Jesus bled and died is not only sitting in the pew, he’s standing in the pulpit.
Grace and peace to you, friends.
Works cited:
Lewis Allen, The Preacher’s Catechism (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2018).
Jeremy Writebol, Pastor, Jesus Is Enough: Hope for the Weary, the Burned Out, and the Broken (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2023).