He sits in the crowd imagining the multi-colored lights hitting the stage as the glorious stares of thousands await his voice to travel miraculously through the air and into their hearts. With the weight of performance on his mind, he labors through seminars, school, training, and conferences awaiting his moment… his promotion… his time on stage. Condemned by an ever-wandering heart, he beats at the air wondering if he will ever make it.
It isn’t just those waiting in the line of American Idol tryouts, it’s men of God lined up at our seminaries, churches, and recording studios hoping their picture gets placed on the next website, the next billboard, the next top ten chart. It’s the called and anointed of God obsessed with an influx of followers on twitter rather than imitations of a holy lifestyle. It may sound harsh, but in the period of flashy marketing we have made rockstars out of pretty smiles, nice clothes, and humored messages. After all, holiness is not as marketable as well polished sermons. It is kind of scary if you think about it. Those the Bible tends to exalt did not come in the same manner. It is perhaps the greatest oxymoron of our century, and it certainly doesn’t seek to imitate our Messiah – “Christian celebrities.” All dressed up in the latest fashions, shoes, or deliberately tilted hats.
This may seem like a new trend in ministry, but the same condition seemed to plague those as Jesus came. Whose disciple are you? What degree of Jewish law have you entered? Who did you study under? By what authority do you operate? Though the warnings of the past seem to be great, the operation of many today seems to be in the same direction. Where did you go to seminary? What churches have you served at? How many students do you have? Have you downloaded my latest podcast? There are many victims who have been lured to a stage in an effort to make an impact. Like a golden calf, we bow down to those who finally get their promotion, their chance, their next best seller. And over time, and often at the hands of those considered spiritual, we have crafted ourselves into elaborate bronze statues worshipped by those who call themselves spiritual.
In a culture saturated with religious idols, men beat their own breast not out of repentance, but out of pride. The world of Christianity is no stranger to glorious superstars. Think of all the conferences you have attended, camps you have gone to, and conversations you have had concerning conferences. Some of the first questions asked are: Who is speaking at the conference? Who is leading the music? What book did he write? Many weigh their attendance based on the Christian celebrities in attendance. We all have men of God we follow in order to learn from, but when did discipleship turn into a morbid obsession that leads us into forming idols?
The stark reality of our condition stands in sharp contrast to the life of Jesus. The Messiah time and time again would heal people immediately followed by the words “don’t tell anyone” (Matt 8:4, Matt 9:30, Matt 16:20, Mark 5:43). He didn’t post it on a social network, he didn’t tweet “the blind just received sight at FBC Jerusalem”. In fact, He did not “consider equality with God something to be grasped”. Isn’t it funny how the ones who deserve to be exalted never like being exalted? The ones who do the best with the microphone never seek to grasp it. They sure don’t self promote themselves in an effort to gain more followers. The most penetrating words ever written flow from time spent privately, not corporately. Something tells me Jesus would have burned down any billboard broadcasting his talents or abilities, and John the Baptist certainly wouldn’t have made a good poster boy.
In the midst of our own environment, the lure of the stage has infected many pastors. If I had a penny for the number of pastors that had approached me telling me they were called to be an “evangelist,” I would be unbelievably rich. Unfortunately many of them do not understand what they are saying (and many, for that matter, have no idea what an evangelist is). What they didn’t say screams louder than what they did. Their true heart’s cry is, “I like the lime light, I like the stage, tell me what I have to do in order to get a microphone and stand in front of thousands of people.” They are not seeking the Father; they are seeking exaltation. Like Diotrophes, they like to be first (3 John 9-10). They ask for a seat at the right hand of Jesus in heaven. Like Simon the Sorcerer (Acts 8:9-24), they pay their money waiting for a double portion to be poured out for the sake of entertaining a crowd. I often wondered if there were any “Simons” sitting in the crowd as Peter spoke on the day of Pentecost. Someone sitting there going, “Man, I could have said the same thing. Why does Peter get to talk, I could have said that better?”
In what was one of the greatest moments of my life, a brother of mine shared words that I will never forget. After preaching at a conference, I went to the back in order to pray over people as they left. While in the back of the room, people started hurling comments at me. Their forked tongues seemed to delight in tickling my ears with compliments as alluring as fruit. Sleek as the serpent, they came one after another. Suddenly my brother leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Be careful, you might just believe what they are saying.” It was a turning point in my life. That whisper, though softly spoken, has been deposited into my mind forever. It is so easy to embrace exaltation, even in ministry. Be careful that your approval comes from our Father and not from your preaching, teaching, or singing venues.
Before an awakening can ever hit the hearts of our students, it has to flow through our pulpits. When did men of God become more concerned over the length of our services than the presence of God? When did our fancy lights begin to capture men’s hearts more than an authentic encounter with God? When did our seminaries become breeding grounds for eloquently crafted theology void of the presence or power found in our prayer closets? When did time spent writing our sermons begin to outweigh time spent basking in His glory? We need people who are willing to sacrifice everything in order to know God more, not to find our professionally photographed picture on posters hanging in youth rooms across America.
May our words flow out of our encounter with a holy God rather than time spent searching on the internet. May the clock that controls our services be thrown into the depths of the ocean that contains our former grievances. May the words of our Heavenly Father be more precious to us than the compliments of those He has called us to shepherd. May the bronze statues we make of ourselves be crushed under His weighty glory. May the stage that lured us be the background of the alter we run to. May the Father be exalted more than Christian stardom. May we never hand a microphone to someone that has not privately sought God. May He increase and may we decrease.