"I need Jesus more than the average person."

My daughter said this to me several years ago and I instantly wrote it down on a napkin. (Napkins are like a poet’s post-it-notes. We can’t help where or when the muse strikes.)

I wrote it down because it struck something deep inside me.

I am more in need of grace than anyone I know. I know what lies in my heart and mind, and many times, it’s just plain ugly and mean.

The ugly, mean Me usually reveals itself when I drive in traffic, when I cook under a deadline, and when I fly (I hate flying!). The ugly comes out other times too, but those three situations seem to give my ugliness the environment it needs to over-ripen.

I thought about my daughter’s statement recently when reading about Philip Yancey’s confession of moral failure - the most recent fall from grace of a respected Christian leader. Before I even had a recognizable thought, my first feeling was heartbreak - an immediate sadness in my soul. I felt the weight of this blow before I could cover it up with cynicism. But then came the cynical thoughts rushing one on the heels of another: “Here we go again. Another pastor who’s proven he can’t be trusted. Another reason not to trust any man behind a pulpit.”

But then, my daughter’s words came back to me - “I need Jesus more than the average person.”

If I’m in such need of grace, what right do I have to weigh someone else’s sin on the judgment scales? Who made me the arbiter of justice?

I’ve been in positions of church leadership both as lay leader and employee. I know the temptation to preach to everyone but yourself. I know the tension that exists between our words spoken at church and our actions lived out at home. I know the toll ministry takes on the body, the mind, the spirit, and the emotions. And I know the enticement to believe your own press - to take to heart what others say about you in the throes of ministry success.

I’m not excusing Philip Yancey. What he did was sinful and harmful to so many people who gave him their trust, who took to heart the gospel he preached. So understand, I’m not saying what he did can be swept under the rug.

But I’m making the point that it could have been any man or woman with a growing platform who stands behind a pulpit or leads a ministry. That’s because the culture we’ve built around pastors and leaders - especially dynamic, “successful” ones - is a toxic cocktail to the human spirit. The culture we’ve created which is centered upon the idealization of a leader is something that goes against the grain of anyone’s humility.

When I first began in ministry, I had a front row seat to the adulation thrown at the feet of a particular leader. And over time, I began to see how the unfiltered, excessive accolades can poison the spirit. There’s something unhealthy about reading your own press; even more so about believing it. Because once we believe we’re too valuable to the organization or mission, and we buy into the lie that our Position of Greatness safeguards us from temptation, accountability, or sin, we’ve crossed the line from servant to celebrity, from shepherd to idol.

As someone involved in a teaching ministry, I must believe I’m capable of what I just wrote. I’m not the exception to the rule; I’m not the one who can withstand the temptation of celebrity status when so many others haven’t. I have to believe I’m capable of doing exactly what my human nature tempts me to do. (Romans 7:18-19)

I’m more in need of the grace of the gospel message than anyone who’s hearing me teach it. If I don’t preach first to my own soul, I have nothing to say to anyone else.

And to help mitigate the chance of this being my story, I need people around me who courageously call it like they see it, who boldly say no instead of yes. Who won’t tell me what I want to hear, but what I need to hear.

And until we, the Church, wake up and begin to acknowledge (and repent of!) our part in creating a culture that idealizes mere mortals as our favorite pasttime, we’ll continue to see fall, after fall, after fall. We are guilty of a Judas mindset - disciples wanting more from our religion than a call to humility and self-denial. Disciples wanting more than a Man dying on a cross. Disciples willing to do anything to get it.

May we hear the sound of the pedestal falling and not rush too soon to self-righteous judgment, but instead, rush to the Light to inspect our own motives and desires, repenting of whatever we find there that’s food for an idol.

Lord, have mercy on us all.

     Lord, Have Mercy

     Flesh wants to be fed.
     Misplaced praise tastes sweet on the
     tongue, but fattens the
     belly.