When To Confront From The Pulpit

Just a disclaimer - I've done what I'm about to complain about. And I was wrong to do it. In fact, it grieves me that I did it. I learned from it when I did it and hope that others won't make the same mistake.

So what exactly am I going on about?

In the past two weeks, I've heard about pastors who have heard there was adultery occurring in their church; instead of dealing with it in biblical fashion, or talking to those involved, they addressed the individuals from the pulpit. Once, it was done directly, and once it was done in a roundabout way so that everyone in the congregation knew who the pastor was talking about, but he didn't mention any names.

Before I start making points, I'll tell you about the 50 or so times I did it. I was arrogant. I thought I had the black and white truth and biblical authority to lash out against people. I thought the pulpit was my right to say what I wanted, when I wanted. Uh uh. Doesn't work that way.

I'd hear about someone living together, having an argument with another church member, being stupid inside a committee meeting, or whatever, and I'd make a whole sermon point about it. I wouldn't mention a name, of course, but I'd make sure they'd hear my point.

On one occasion, after the music director left after the deacon controversy, I preached a whole sermon out of anger. It was basically a "don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you" sermon. It wasn't right and it wasn't well received.

You know why it wasn't right? First, because I was angry. Secondly, because if I had a problem, I needed to deal with it in private with the people I had a problem with. I used a bully pulpit to make a point to people and stirred the pot. I was airing dirty laundry that was personal business and I had no right to do it.

Does the pastor have the right to preach on adultery, anger, gambling, etc.? Absolutely. But in the course of normal preaching. Not when we're using another person to make a point. Not when we're showering down the Word of God on someone to lash out on them instead of going to them first.

It's the misappropriation of the pastoral office, plain and simple. It's the abuse of the Word and the pulpit. And it does harm to the congregation and those who have sinned. It doesn't make the situation better, it makes it much worse.

You know what to confront from the pulpit? The enemy. Other church members are not our enemy. If a church member sins, we seek them out and restore them, plain and simple. If they don't want restoration, we grieve the loss and pray for them wholeheartedly. We tell the church to pray for them.

But we never, ever air their dirty laundry. Because we might just find ourselves in their position one day. God help us all when we do.

Seminary, Being Judgmental, Self-Righteousness, and Other Thoughts, Part 2

Long before seminary, the seeds of self-righteousness had been sown.

Now, I have really got to be careful with this next part of my story because it will definitely offend some people. I don't mean for it to. Just make sure you read it through before you react, please.

When I was about 13, I ran across a stash of cassette tapes my parents had. They listened to a lot of sermons. Charles Stanley, Chuck Swindoll, and our own pastor at the time. But the pastor who caught my attention at the time was John MacArthur.

I had never heard anything like his preaching in my entire life. I had never experienced expository preaching. I fell in love with it. The Bible came alive for me and I soaked it all in.

I don't know how familiar you are with MacArthur's preaching. It's very good. At the same time, you have to know that it's also very black and white. All the answers for all of life are to be found in the Word of God. Don't hear me saying I disagree, but I went to an extreme.

I took MacArthur's style, black and white belief system, and tough stance on sin and made it my own. I went even further with it as seminary came along. When I got past seminary and got my own church, the hard-line black and white view of life came to bear. And it infiltrated the way I did everything - especially the way I viewed sin in the congregation.

After a seminary education where church discipline was king, I was ready to wipe out sin in the church. I think my heart was in the right place, but my practice and attitude was not.

I remember the first couple of times I found out church members were sinning. Publicly. I didn't handle it well. Or with compassion. I came down hard and quickly on them. Were they sinning? Yes. Was it wrong in accordance to the black and white of Scripture? Yes.

But I was wrong. I lacked compassion, love and understanding. I approached them with the attitude of, "You need to stop now or we're bringing this in front of the church in [X] amount of days."

I gave no time for God to do His work in their hearts. I gave no compassion to their circumstance. I didn't care about their situation. None. No Christlikeness at all.

All I knew is that I saw sin. And I was the heat-seeking missile that wanted it out of the church.

What I never considered was that I was dealing with people. I knew the old saying, "Hate the sin, love the sinner." But I had trouble separating the two. In my eyes, if the sinner couldn't separate from the sin, they needed to get serious help or be asked to leave until they could.

Of course, I was an idiot. That's not how discipline works. That's not how the church works. That's not how forgiveness works. That's not how we're supposed to act at all. And I learned the hard way.

How could I sit through church as a youth, seminary as an adult, and pastor for almost ten years and miss it?

Worse, I taught the people at Angel Falls Baptist to judge harshly and without love or compassion. And they did that very thing to me when I fell.

Well, I did. Is it possible thousands of Christians are missing the same thing now? That they're learning that sin is a horrible thing (which is true) but at the same time they're missing out on how to show compassion?

I forgot that I was a sinner like those in the church were. I forgot that I had been saved by grace and that I wasn't any better than anyone else. That is the heart of self-righteousness. I thought my education, my position, and my ability to judge made me better.

Didn't. It just made me more smug. And I paid for it all.