The Judgment Within The Human Heart

I didn't plan on this blog post. It's spur of the moment. A small speed bump in the middle of my series on reconciling with a fallen pastor.

Here's a story on Roman Catholic priest Thomas Euteneuer who admitted to crossing the line of chastity with a female. He says he didn't engage in any sexual contact. He's left his parish and admitted fault.

I've been making the point in my last few posts about how churches, members, and individuals react to the sin of the clergy. Some let it ride off their backs, some react harshly and with extreme judgment, and some don't care.

Case in point? Read some of the comments below the story. Fascinating. We are at heart a people of judgment. However, some have learned to be compassionate. I regret that I used to be judgmental - still have some of it in me.

I've copied some of the variation of comments here:

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Get rid of him, stop hiding him. Send him to the Vatican and let them deal with him. This is another stain and a continuation of hiding priests who screw up.
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Since you're so absolutely perfect in all YOUR individual thoughts and actions, then I guess we'll just take your advice and do everything you demand As for me, yeah, I've screwed up and sinned in the past And I may even sin again, probably with violence and extreme prejudice, if I ever got my hands on ANYONE who abuses a child So let's hear what sentence you've determined that I should suffer, oh perfect one This guy screwed up, and publicly admitted it. Good for him.

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Perfect - another example of FINE catholic upbringing. Who cares if it was an adult or not - it was just plain WRONG. Don't you people get it - WRONG !!!! He needs to be expelled from the EVERY church and not EVER be allowed to be in a position of authority again. PERIOD...

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Forgive as we would like to be forgiven. He sinned in chastity only, w/o the sexual act and with an adult woman. Give the man a break. He is human as we all are. He feels remorse and will conduct himself better in the future. He probably just got emotionally close and wound up holding and kissing her. Really, have some compassion. Being a Priest and bearing everyone's burdens is an extremely heavy load to carry. He is obviously very caring and sincerely devout.

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..and one more thing: He who hath never sinned, cast the first stone. You people make me sick - you would love nothing more than to see this man crucified by the church for a mistake he made, with no apparent "victim", for which he has apologized. You people are so hardcore and cruel you are no better than those Muslim hardliners stoning women to death. You are like dogs turning on the weak. "In Christianity, neither morality nor religion come into contact with reality at any point." -Nietzsche

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I am of a different opinion. He might be a priest, but he is still human. The story above does not give too many details. He admits he made a mistake and he is taking responsibility for it. Humans make mistakes. It sounds as if he knows there will be consequences and he is ready to face them. I wish we had more people taking responsibility these days. The biggest person he has to take this up with is God. I feel for the victim and her family and hope they find peace. May God be with them

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eh, you put your faith in God and not into ordained clergy, then this type of thing doesn't really phase you or shake your faith.

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The Vat had on the books capital punishment until 60 years ago. For the pervert priests who have sex with boys/men, they should kill them. For priests who are otherwise in violation of celibacy, they should scourge them and then keep them in a cloistered monetary for the duration of their lives. In addition to this, any married person who does not keep their vow of marriage should be publicly scourged. Severely. Divorce should be punishable by public hanging.

Oh, How I Love Your Law! Or Do I?

I was pulling off the interstate the other day and I saw a policeman on the bridge. He was clocking people. Just waiting for the wayward speeder. On the inside, I was cheering for him to get someone. Why? Because I hadn't been speeding that day.

I have this secret fascination with the police. I would love to ride around with one and watch him bust the bad guys. The police do a great job and I commend them. They are the first in line to uphold the law of the land. I cheer for the law. When I read about a criminal getting his rightful sentence by a judge and jury in the paper, a part of me cheers. When I see an episode of COPS on TV and the bad guy gets his comeuppance, my just side feels like all is right.

Don't get me wrong. I've had two speeding tickets. One of those had a reckless driving and an improper passing attached to it. On both occasions, I was very respectful to the officer and knew he was doing his job. He was upholding the law that I had broken. I knew I was caught and he was right to bust me for it.

But then . . . I think about my adultery. I got caught red-handed. I was discovered by my wife at the time. Of course, God already knew, but her discovery laid bare my sin before the entire community. My ex-wife told my family, my friends, her friends, the church, and anyone she could about what I did in her anger. I deserved that, I suppose.

What was worse, I realized that God wasn't kidding when He said, "your sin will find you out."

God is the ultimate policeman. However, He doesn't always pull us over when He sees us speeding right away. Sometimes He lets us get away with it for a while. Sometimes He lets us think we're really, really smart. He gives us a chance to right our own path. He gives us a chance to wallow in our sin.

But finally, He'll bring down the hammer. It hurts. Bad. The justice that I demand that other people get, I hate when it is applied to me. Yeah, I know it's a double standard. I don't mind when it's a speeding ticket that I can pay. But when it's the huge cost of adultery that costs me everything, including public humiliation? That's a little more difficult.

Was I ready to pay the price to be with Cynthia? Absolutely. But I didn't like it when the law was applied to me.

Now, over a year after my transgression, I have a different attitude. God is a just judger. Thank goodness He judges like He does. He is gracious in His judgment. You know what? He is more than fair in what He does. If He really wanted to judge me like I deserved, He would strike me down before I ever got out of bed in the morning.

Even after my soul was saved, my heart still needs to be protected against anger, pride and hatred. I have to seek after the Savior. I am an angry man against those who have judged me wrongly.

I had a conversation with Angelica recently that might shed light on this. She talks to a lot of people from Angel Falls about me. People who have decided that they will never speak to me again. She told me that they ask questions like, "Does he take care of you?" or "Does he do what he's supposed to?"

She said she answers, "He pays his child support on time."

To me, that is an inadequate answer. I have gone above and beyond what I should do. I go above and beyond what 99.9% of most deadbeat dads do. I pay my child support based on seeing my kids only once every other week, despite the fact that Angelica asks me to watch them four days a week. I love my kids. I don't care about how much child support I pay. I just do what I do because I want the best for them and I want to see them taken care of.

Strangely, even if I could tell all those people at Angel Falls that I love my children and pay more than I should in child support. Even if they could see that I'm doing as best I can despite the sin I committed, if they could see that I'm doing right by Angelica, even though I hurt her and that we are getting along better now that we ever did, they wouldn't care. People judge by unfair standards.

And I used to as well. We all do.

We judge by the standards that we set up for ourselves. But that's not right.

There are only two things that ultimately matter. First, we will only and always be judged by the standards that God has set up for us. And secondly, that we see ourselves through the eyes of Christ.

Are you seeing yourself through Christ's eyes? Or are you overjudging yourself? Are you your worst critic? Do you give yourself the harshest treatment possible and then slink into a corner? Christ doesn't do that. He gives us grace when we repent. He approaches us with mercy and love, forgiving us of what we have done.

On the contrary, it's quite possible that we are underjudging ourselves. We think we're better than anyone else. We are prideful, full of ourselves and think that nothing can defeat us. In that case, nothing will get through to us but an eventual downfall. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

So, when I get pulled over again someday for speeding, I could argue. I could argue that I was going under the speed limit. But it won't matter. All that matters is the radar detector on the officer's dashboard.

And all that matters is God's law. The law that we can love or hate. But it doesn't matter whether we love it or hate it. It is what it is. And our heavenly Father gives it out with compassion, love and mercy - but it is just at the same time.

Being Snooty And Smug

I just got home from a business vacation with Cynthia. We went to a big city for a convention I had to attend. We spent a lot of time out shopping and having a good time.

It's been a while since I visited a big city. This one is one of the largest cities in the United States and we had a blast.

We saw a decent number of homeless people and, of course, I had forgotten how insensitive I was in my thinking toward the homeless. We walked past them with shopping bags and food and I ignored them. Cynthia showed empathy several times but I was just hard of heart toward them most of the time.

We kept shopping - mostly for her - and she asked, "Is there anything you want?"

I said, "I really would like a pair of nice boxers to sleep in (too much info?)"

So we set out to find some nice boxers. We looked for a while and were sent down the street to some huge multi-level men's store I'd never heard of.

We walked into the plush lobby and I should have walked out the second we walked in.

All of the sales associates were wearing suits. It looked like a grand cathedral. There were suits from wall to wall and most of them looked like they would set me back a month's salary. But, I was on vacation and trudged ahead.

The guy in the suit who met us asked what we were looking for and sent us up the elevator to the second floor. More suits there. More sales associates in suits. And when we got off the elevator, everyone stopped and stared at us.

Now, listen. We were dressed casually. I was wearing khakis and nice shoes, and an American Eagle shirt. Cynthia was wearing a nice shirt and khakis. But we weren't dressed like them.

A man stopped us and said, "Are you looking for someone?" Yeah. Not, "Can I help you?"

His question was meant to say, "You have no right to be here. You have no right to shop here. You can't afford this place so leave now."

But I'm too stupid to stop when I'm offended. I wanted to say, "Yeah, I'm looking for your sense of humor." But I didn't. I told him I was looking for boxers. He sent me toward a lady who led me over to a corner of the store.

She kept looking me up and down like I had leprosy. She wouldn't let me touch the boxers. It was like I had a disease. I was lower class to them. I just said, "You know what? Don't worry about it. I don't see anything I like."

We left. I was irritated.

I had some time to reflect on it for a while. Why was I so irritated? Because these people were middle-class, most likely, like me. And they weren't any better than me. They waited on high class people, but they got snooty because I wasn't good enough for them to wait on. It was about what "class I was in." How dare they!

Oh, snap. Wait a second, I thought.

How had I been thinking about the homeless people earlier? I had seen them as below me and had been hard-hearted in my thinking toward them because of their "class." Well, crud. I wasn't any better than the people in the men's store.

Let's go a step further.

How about my post the other day about the SBC? Some took it the wrong way, I think. I'm not blaming the SBC for my fall. My point was that the resolution they voted on will really do no good in the end. However, the people that make up the SBC and the committees are just people. And if I'm wrong, it will be because I judge the people, not the group.

How about this? What about when people walk into our churches and they look a little different? They don't act like us? They don't fit into the cliques we've formed? What would your church do if an alcoholic showed up? What would your church do if a man fresh out of prison showed up? How would you feel? (I hope you would respond positively in all those situations - and many of you would.) But unfortunately, many don't. And that's about class - that's about our snootiness and smugness.

Guess what? From members of the SBC, to those of us in church, to the people in the men's store, to the homeless, we're all human. Strip us all down to our boxers, and we're just a bunch of vulnerable people in need of God's love and mutual human understanding. But with our protective shields of piety and smugness on, we judge and look down on others. And that's not how it's intended to be. I'm guilty.

It's innate in all of us and it needs to be fought against. And I was reminded of that when I wasn't good enough to buy a pair of underwear this week.

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.

Common Traits Of The Fallen Pastor, Part 3: Being Judgmental

(Make sure you read the disclaimer on the first blog post of this series before starting this one.)

The fallen pastors I've talked to as well as myself had a similar, serious issue. Before our falls, we were very judgmental of sinners. I've touched on this topic before, but I want to get to the heart of the matter here.

Before my fall, I was very black and white in my judgments. If there was an issue at hand, there was a black and white answer for it. There were no gray areas at all. If there was a sin or sinner in the church, there was a quick answer for it.

Let me give you an example that I'm not at all proud of.

Marlee was a long time member of Angel Falls Baptist Church. She had been previously married and divorced and I had been there when it had happened. Her first husband and she had divorced when he had become addicted to drugs and they had some serious issues. She had been unmarried for about two years at the time.

She started dating a guy up in Maryland named Rich who was an avid golfer. I hadn't met him yet, but they seemed pretty serious about one another. One weekend, the gossip got to me that she was pregnant, out of wedlock, and was worried about her future.

The next weekend, she and Rich came together to see me after church. They were both nervous talking to me, but I wanted to show them understanding. I didn't have the whole story, but I wanted to be a good pastor to them.

She started by telling me about how she was now three months pregnant. I took the opportunity to interrupt her.

"Marlee, believe it or not, I'm happy for you."

The shock registered on her face. "You are?"

I said, "Yes, even though this child was conceived out of wedlock, you need to understand that no child is a mistake in the eyes of God. All children are a gift of God. No conception is ever a mistake."

She smiled nervously. "But we sinned."

I said, "Sure you did, but God forgives that sin. What's your future together?"

"We're living together," Marlee said.

At that moment, in my life, there were few sins worse than two people living together. Cohabitation for me ranked right up there with murder and adultery (go figure). I could feel the anger rising up in every fiber of my being and I knew the black and white of Scripture had to be applied to their situation.

"Well, you can't do that," I said. "Either you get married or you don't live together." I was a little angry when I said it.

"Well, he lives in Maryland and has nowhere to go right now. He's looking to move here so we can eventually get married and do the right thing, but we don't have the money for it," she said, now pleading.

"Sure you do. He can live with someone else in the family. You're just making excuses," I said. "What kind of example is this setting for your son you already have?" I was incensed. There was right, there was wrong, and I was bound and determined to make sure they understood it.

You see, I was pastor of this church. Impurity had set in and it had to be punished. It had to be disciplined. It had to be made right. I mean, really! Sin in the church! Out in front of everyone! Something had to be done - and the thing that drove me - the thing that drove me in those days was this - something had to be done that very minute.

She wouldn't budge. I didn't understand it. The holiness of God was at stake. The purity of the bride of Christ was at stake. She said they wouldn't stop living together.

Unbelievable. I was bound and determined to take it before the deacons as soon as I could. Church discipline would be exercised upon her. I was angry because I couldn't exercise it upon him since he wasn't a member, but I'd have a talk with him too.

Do you see what's wrong? My attitude at the time was so horrible. I rue those days. But at the time, I was so dang self-righteous. I thought I was right.

You want to know what? I was black and white right. I was.

Guess what? The people in John 8 were black and white right. The Pharisees brought to Jesus a woman caught in adultery. They told him that she deserved to be stoned by the letter of the law. And you know what? By the black and white of the law, they were exactly right.

By the letter of the law, I was right. I could have taken that young couple and run them out of the church with discipline.

Those people in John 8 stood there with stones in their hand, ready to kill because of their overwhelming sense of justice. I was ready to punish because of my overwhelming sense of justice. I thought, "Sin is sin and it has no place in this fellowship!"

But there stands the Savior in John 8. He does not dismiss sin. He does not excuse sin. But He loves the sinner. He shows compassion. He loves on the sinner. He places himself between the sinner and every stone in the crowd. Then he turns to those of us who would judge and basically says, "You're no better than she is. You're just as big of a sinner as she is. And if you throw that stone at her, you're throwing it at yourself."

He would have taken every single one of those stones for that woman. And, in essence, He did at Calvary. He didn't judge her that day. He showed compassion. A quality I lacked as a pastor. But because of my self-righteousness, I just wanted to judge. And I hate that I didn't see it then.

You think I would have learned my lesson several years before when Cynthia and Barry walked into my office. They had been living together. Instead of getting to know them and finding out whether they were compatible, I insisted they get married. It led to a bad marriage. It led to a marriage put together hastily and for the wrong reasons. For one reason, because I only saw the black and white. And yes, I the wretch of a fallen pastor performed the ceremony. I even baptized Barry because he hadn't had believer's baptism.

Only after my fall from the pastorate do I see it. Only now do I see that people need time, grace, love, and patience to come to understand their sin. As well as strong Biblical counsel. There is certainly a place for that. When people fall and sin, they often need time and love the most instead of harshness and judgment.

I have heard that same lesson echoed from fellow fallen pastors.

What's the worst? I've had seminary training. Years of experience in Southern Baptist churches. I'm supposed to be a Christ follower. A man who is supposed to know the balance between judgment and compassion. But back then, I didn't.

On the other side of it, after being judged by others, I see the error of my ways. I see that no man has the right to judge another with harshness. Yes, we have the right to point out sin. We have the right to recognize sin. But no man has the right to sit in the place of judgment of another. Even when we do recognize sin, we must do so with the utmost care and love. We must do so with compassion and love, recognizing the sin in our own lives, realizing that none of us are any better than anyone else.

Pride does indeed come before a fall. I know that now.

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.

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

My new friend from the Work In Progress blog who comments here frequently asked me an honest question recently, which reminded me of something I've been wanting to blog about for a while.

I think I've mentioned before that I was somewhat judgmental as a pastor before my fall. I also discovered that I was self-righteous. I think those two things go hand in hand. After talking to several other fallen pastors from across the country, I've discovered that these qualities are very common. Let me give you some back story before I explain that.

When I got the call to ministry, the logical step for me was to attend seminary. I attended a very conservative Southern Baptist seminary. I didn't have a strong religious educational background except for what I had learned in Sunday School and a few undergraduate religious classes.

I went to seminary with the expectation it would prepare me for a pastoral career. I hoped it would get me ready to minister as I learned practically how to care for people. That a Master of Divinity would transform me into the man of God who magically knew how to pastor a congregation.

Uh huh.

Let me give you a quick disclaimer. I don't have a problem with seminary. I loved my seminary and I'd do it all over again. I'll get to what went wrong in a minute.

I got a seminary education bereft of spiritual formation. Now, listen to what I'm saying first. It was ultimately my fault that I didn't get the spiritual benefit. There were about four to six practical classes in the whole mix. They urged us on several occasions to make sure we were part of a good church where we were getting fed. They told us that seminary education was no replacement for spiritual growth. They told us that sermon preparation was not the same as edification for our soul.

Got that part.

But during an 18 hour class schedule, most students don't take the time to do the spiritual work.

There were professors who made you do the spiritual work. I had several professors who forced us to do written quiet times and reflect on certain passages and hand them in on a daily basis. I'm still not sure what to think of that, but their hearts were in the right place.

Here was where I failed. And this is tough for me to write, but I write it hoping it will help someone else out there, because I know there are some out there who will benefit from it. So here goes.

The first day of seminary, they herded us into a room to do some preliminary testing to see if we needed some extra classes. One of the PhD students addressed all of us newbies: "50% of you will not graduate. Of those of you who do, 50% of you will not make it past the first two years of ministry."

Fantastic.

I pondered why 50% of seminary students didn't make it through. I found out in a hurry. Most of them said they couldn't afford it anymore. That wasn't the truth, though. I found out for myself.

Seminary is made up of a lot of factual information. Theology. History. Ecclesiology. Hermeneutics. So forth. A lot of stuff that I had never heard. It was stuff that challenged my own beliefs. My own system of thought. It challenged my faith.

Can you believe that? That in seminary they would challenge your beliefs? (That was sarcasm.)

In my early second year, it got so bad for me that I was questioning the existence of God. Honestly. We were learning so much, so fast that our heads were swimming. It was more than a lot of people could take. More than I could almost take.

When I talked to students who were leaving, I'd ask them, "Why are you really leaving?" When I got past the first five minutes of, "I can't afford this anymore," they'd finally say, "I just miss the old time religion. When things were simple."

Their faith had been challenged too severely.

I'd encourage them to stay and work it out. But they'd leave. It was tough. It was tough for me.

Obviously, I finally worked it out. But my faith had been shaken to the core. But I probably didn't work it out the way I should have. From the moment I "worked it out," I began to "study" God. No longer did I have the same reverence for God, but I looked at God like a thing to be studied and not a God to be worshipped.

It was an easy thing to do, too. Especially in an environment when all you do is study. When all you do is break down the atonement, theories of the fall, whether you're a trichotomist or dichotomist, argue over open membership vs. closed membership, study the history of church thought, examine document sources, read the Puritans, study and debate ethics, and fade away to sleep every night with a 20 pound book on your chest due for discussion the next day.

What's even worse is that hardly anyone at seminary is immune from "studying" God. There were super seminary students who kept it all together. They did. They kept their spiritual level high while grinding out the papers. I don't know how.

You know what happens when you study God like that? Even if you don't mean to? A horrible thing begins to happen to your soul. You begin to think you're a little better than people who aren't seminary trained. That's called self-righteousness.

Some of you who read this who went to seminary may disagree. That's fine. You may not have had the same experience. God love you. I'm glad you didn't. Seminary doesn't have the same effect on everyone. But it has this effect on a lot of people. And again, seminary doesn't necessarily do this to people. But if self-discipline isn't enacted, it'll happen.

Case in point, seminary students had a reputation at local churches. Especially in Sunday School classes. People from the town had the feeling and generalization that seminary students were arrogant know-it-alls. Now where would they get that idea?

From the handful of students who felt that a seminary education made them better than the general public. They showed up at these churches, sat in their Sunday School classes, told the layman teacher why they were wrong every Sunday and got cocky about it. A rotten apple spoils the whole bunch. That's why a lot of the churches had "Seminary Classes." Not to cater to the seminary students, but to get them out of general population.

Heck, I was the same way. I had a first-class Southern Baptist education and I let it be known. I wasn't flaunting it, but sometimes, I had the need to be arrogant about it.

But I should have exercised humility. Especially in public. Especially in my ministry later. Especially in life.

Next time I'll talk about the long-term effects of the self-righteous behavior I learned and really where it all started for me.