There’s a diner here in Colorado that has quotes all over the walls. When my wife, Kari, and I were there, we took particular notice of one of those quotes: "The 3 G's get preachers in trouble—the gold, the glory, and the girls." While there is some truth to this quote (we often work with pastors who have gotten themselves into trouble in one of these areas), these troubles are not the real problem. They are symptoms. Much deeper temptations are the root issues that make Christian leaders susceptible to the glory, the gold, and the girls.
Peter was the golden boy for his denomination. He had accomplished what most pastors dream of: each of the three churches he started or took over was very successful numerically and financially; he was a sought-after speaker and writer; he was asked to lead an international parachurch ministry; and his attractive wife had a growing writing and speaking ministry. Life was good, until one of his mistresses couldn’t keep the secret anymore. In the tsunami that followed that week, Peter lost his ministry, marriage, reputation, and nearly his will to live. When Peter came to Marble Retreat to begin the process of healing, the big question on his heart and mind was, “How could I have done this?”
Henri Nouwen, in his book In the Name of Jesus, reflects on the temptations Satan offered to Jesus and how these same temptations are offered to those in Christian leadership today. Nouwen interprets the first temptation, Satan’s challenging Jesus to turn the stones into bread, as the temptation to be relevant. Or in other words, it is a temptation to be effective, to accomplish something practical and clearly beneficial, something the world believes is the answer to the problems at hand. What could possibly be wrong with this? At first glance, it seems harmless and even biblical—are we not to be salt and light to this world, to make a difference, to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, with whatever resources we have available?
What’s wrong with relevance?
Nouwen suggests that the root temptation is putting our worth in our achievements and not in Christ. “The question is not: How many people take you seriously? How much are you going to accomplish? Can you show some results? But: Are you in love with Jesus? Perhaps another way of putting the question would be: Do you know the incarnate God?” The temptation in desiring to be relevant is that being “relevant,” not our love of Christ, guides our steps. Visible success in ministry can become an idol and dangerous for the soul.
“The great message that we have to carry, as ministers of God’s word and followers of Jesus,” writes Nouwen, “is that God loves us not because of what we do or accomplish, but because God has created and redeemed us in love and has chosen us to proclaim that love as the true source of all human life.” The temptation in seeking to be relevant or effective is that we not only seek our own sense of worth in how we are doing in changing the world, but that we also burden those we lead with the same expectation that worth comes only from visible results. We have worked with many ministry leaders who have embraced the pressure of performance, and it became their first love, their idol, their obsession.
Peter had fallen into this trap. He had begun ministry with sincerity and good intentions. His first ministry was in a semi-rural church in Kansas. He was gifted as a communicator and soon “outgrew” this ministry even though the church had doubled in size in five years. Word began to spread throughout the denomination of his potential and leadership, and seizing the opportunity, the denomination molded him to be the next face of their movement. At first, it was exhilarating for Peter and his wife. Peter had once defined success as 25 baptisms in a year, but now that seemed like small thinking to him.
Many, but not all, of the pastors we have worked with who have had sexual affairs, were having the affair during a season of “high effectiveness” in their ministry. Explosive church growth, book writing, expanding influence … and they began an affair.
The question they bring to counseling is “How did this happen? Why did I do this?” Returning again to Nouwen and In the Name of Jesus, he reflects on a time of outward success: “Everyone was saying that I was doing really well, but something inside was telling me that my success was putting my own soul in danger.… I woke up one day with the realization that I was living in a very dark place and that the term ‘burnout’ was a convenient psychological translation for a spiritual death.”
While the pressure of keeping up with continuing the success played into the attractive escape of an affair, the underlying issue is that often the successful pastors are themselves eating empty spiritual calories and their soul is malnourished and the affair offers a substitute source of affirmation which in the end not only is another source of emptiness but destroys all they have worked so hard to build.
What’s wrong with seeking applause?
Satan’s second temptation for Jesus was an invitation to demonstrate his power for greatest effect. “The second temptation to which Jesus was exposed,” writes Nouwen, “was precisely the temptation to do something spectacular, something that could win him great applause.” The root temptation here is the desire to be the hero, the answer person, to be good at everything, or at least better than others.
Many in ministry burn themselves up trying to make everyone happy and trying to make every attempt at ministry successful, whether it is a new program, sermon series, counseling, or fund-raiser. Again, at first glance, wanting to be successful does not seem wrong. What is wrong and dangerous is the pursuit of success for its own sake. The pursuit of affirmation. Or simply the desire to look better than others. Often the driving force behind this is the fear of failure or rejection from someone.
In the book, Rest in the Storm: Self-Care Strategies for Clergy and Other Caregivers, Kirk Byron Jones writes on the three driving forces behind burnout and these are the illusions (or delusions) of invincibility, indispensability, and the denial of our humanity. If we fall into the temptation of being “spectacular” or in more down-to-earth language the temptation to be the hero, then we often cannot be human, have limitations, and especially we cannot fail. While most of us believe theologically that “our” ministry is really God’s ministry, and he is responsible for the growth, our minds are filled with self-condemning language when a ministry effort falls short of our expectations.
“We are not the healers, we are not the reconcilers, we are not the givers of life. We are sinful, broken, vulnerable people who need as much care as anyone we care for,” writes Nouwen. “How can priests or ministers feel really loved and cared for when they have to hide their own sins and failings from the people to whom they minister and run off to a distant stranger to receive a little comfort and consolation?”
One of the questions we sometimes ask Christian leaders who come to Marble Retreat is, “When was the last time that you felt loved?” and then we further penetrate with the clarifying question, “When was the last time that you felt loved in your brokenness?” One of the hurdles to experiencing love in brokenness is not sharing your brokenness with others. “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted,” said Jesus. This requires that we overcome the hurdle of not wanting to accept our own brokenness.
One of the therapeutic steps to healing is accepting that “I am a sinner in need of grace” (not, I was a sinner in need of grace). Often ministry leaders teach this, but inwardly they believe, “I am a bit inadequate, in need of perfection.” There is a big difference between the two. When a pastor comes because they have sinned and continue to ask, “Why? How could I have done this?” Underneath the real reasons that motivated that particular sin is the fact that Christian leaders are sinners in need of grace. Yet, many Christian leaders seem a little stunned when they sin, or when they get caught sinning.
Peter was in shock. He had just blown up his life. Through tears he just kept asking why and how. While the temptation was to focus specifically on the climactic sin, we first spent time unpacking the life he had created that set the stage for the sin. Predictably it was a life of production, of seeking admiration (even adulation), of being wanted and sought after. It was also a life of loneliness, of fear of failure, of not being known, of emotional and relational disconnection, of constant exhausting maneuvering to always look and sound good. The first affair started as many affairs do, with an empathetic ear and a gentle touch on the arm. The connection and a place to be real with someone was addictive. He eventually had mistresses in several cities where he often went to speak. He began to find that after each public appearance he had an overwhelming urge to see one of his girlfriends. An increasing disconnect was happening in his soul, especially when doing public ministry roles, which was feeding his longing for connection, even when those connections were illicit and shame inducing.
What’s wrong with exercising power?
The third temptation of Christ was the temptation for power. Satan offered Jesus immediate power and influence if only he would bow to Satan. Nouwen writes: “The temptation to consider power an apt instrument for the proclamation of the Gospel is the greatest of all.” And he makes this searing observation: “The temptation of power is greatest when intimacy is a threat. Much Christian leadership is exercised by people who do not know how to develop healthy, intimate relationships and have opted for power and control instead. Many Christian empire-builders have been people unable to give and receive love.”
In addition, we have noticed that many in Christian leadership are attracted to or desire power to medicate a great sense of inadequacy that is resting deep in their souls.
Peter’s power was often in his words. He could inspire, persuade, and motivate. When used with godly motivation, he could cast a vision for a church or ministry, and followers would grab their oars and do their part to get where they needed to go. When used with selfish ambition or in self-protection, Peter would deflect someone’s perceived criticism or, at worst, make the criticism all about them. It took time for him to see how he used words to build a wall, to create a false identity at times, and to keep from real intimacy. Eventually he understood why his now ex-wife would end an argument with, “You never listen and it always ends up being about me.” Peter’s giftedness gave him power—power to lead or power to hurt. Sometimes he didn’t even know which of the two he was doing.
Nouwen argues that Christian leaders are susceptible to the temptations of relevance, of being spectacular, and of power. At first glance there seems to be a fine line between when one of these characteristics is okay and useful in doing kingdom work and when it has become something destructive or even evil. Obviously, when any of these become the end goal, that’s a problem. It’s also a problem when we start playing the ends-justify-the-means game. Perhaps the biggest problem when tapping these things for the sake of ministry is that one can depend on the tools of the world and forego the way of Christ.
Kari and I led a denominational conference for pastors on experiencing God’s love. We could tell many in attendance were being impacted through their nods and tears and we could also tell that some were not being impacted. On a lunch break I sat at a table with a group of five pastors. When I approached their table I noticed that their conversation abruptly stopped but I didn’t take the hint and sat down anyway. After a few moments of awkward silence, the outspoken one of the group asked me if they could tell me what they were talking about. “Sure,” I said, now tentative. He began, “Well, your topic is fine but what we would really like from our denominational conference is something practical. We were just discussing it would be more helpful to learn how to break the 200 in attendance barrier, or the most effective youth group materials…” The rest of his comrades began rapid firing other practical situations that they desperately wanted help with.
I am not saying that it is not a real need to want practical guidance, especially when you are feeling overwhelmed by ministry. I am not saying that it is wrong to want to do your ministry with excellence and have the greatest results possible. But what these pastors were missing was this: the head of their denomination wanted the conference to be a time of refreshment and renewal for those serving their churches. He, and we, believe the heartbeat of ministry should be being loved by God and loving God. Many in the room got that and their hearts were filled and they were ready to go forth and bring Christ to those they serve. Some did not because what they really wanted was to be effective, spectacular, and powerful.
Temptation tends to begin small. In the desire to be a little more effective, a little more spectacular, or a little more powerful, one starts cutting corners or crossing lines. A danger is that one will then start cutting bigger corners and crossing bigger lines. Perhaps a greater danger, however, is that in cutting the corners and crossing the lines you are quietly giving your soul to something other than God. Soul hunger can be fed by God, or by a substitute. When your soul is hungry, you will find something to try to fill it, and if it’s with the wrong thing, eventually you find yourself in situation asking, “Why did I do this? How could this have happened?”
As Henri Nouwen put it: “Too often I looked at being relevant, popular, and powerful as ingredients of an effective ministry. The truth, however, is that these are not vocations but temptations.”
Mike MacKenzie, along with his wife, Kari, is director of Marble Retreat in Colorado, where they provide counseling and therapy for Christian leaders. Mike and Kari also are the directors of the Doctorate of Ministry pastor care track at Lincoln Christian University.
