It does not take long for a Christian to realize that there is much brokenness within the church as there is outside of it. There are innumerable stories of not only lay believers but also church leaders falling into gross sin and disrepute, many high-profile, but likely many more that do not make the news. Though we know that everyone is fallible, including Christians, these cases still elicit shocked reactions, especially when the person was a trusted spiritual authority. The feeling of betrayal runs deep, for it is in our nature to long for and depend on a figure whom we can look up to, trust, and put our hopes in. And when such trust is broken and hopes are disappointed, there ensues a kind of devastation that goes beyond the emotional and relational—it is also spiritual and existential, because we sense deeply that of all people, Christians and especially Christian leaders ought to lead the way in moral excellence. Thus their moral failure causes more than emotional disappointment and relational estrangement; it produces a spiritual and existential crisis, to the point where many will question or even abandon their faith as a result.
This leads me to ask, whom can we trust? If the leader of a megachurch can be found domineering and abusive, or a world-renowned speaker and author fall into sexual impropriety, or simply a small-town pastor conceal his failing marriage even while counseling other couples and encouraging church members to be open and vulnerable about their struggles, what hope do we have? Whom can we trust? Paradoxically, the most trustworthy person is the one who is most conscious of his or her own sin and weakness. It is the one who recognizes oneself as the worst of sinners and looks to Christ for mercy (1 Tim 1:15-16). It is the one who by the Spirit puts to death the deeds of the flesh (Rom 8:13), making every effort to make their calling sure (2 Pet 1:10). It is the one who disciplines their body, knowing that if they do not do so, they can be disqualified despite having preached to others (1 Cor 9:27). It is the one who, like Zacchaeus (Lk 19:8), quickly acknowledges, apologizes, and makes amends for their wrongs. It is the one who takes the log out of his or her own eye first before daring to bring correction to another (Matt 7:1-5). It is the one who, knowing the deceitfulness of sin, goes out of their way to find fellowship and accountability (Heb 3:12-13). This is the one who works out their salvation with fear and trembling (Phil 2:12), understanding that “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ” (2 Cor 5:10).
I want to live like this. I need to be painfully aware of the apostasy in my veins. If I give in to the flesh and make compromises in small areas, and I leave that unaddressed, I set myself up for greater disaster down the road. I too can become the minister who destroys his family by his adultery or the pastor who exploits people to serve his own ministry. I too can become the fabricator of a false reputation or the embezzler of ministry finances. I am not beyond these things, and the moment I think I am, the moment I think such warnings do not apply to me anymore, then I am in danger. “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Cor 10:12). The call is not so much to simply “not sin,” but to continually confess sin before the cross and be cleansed by Jesus’ forgiveness and grace. This is “the good fight of faith” by which we “take hold of the eternal life to which you were called” (1 Tim 6:12). Many have failed to do this, at great cost to both themselves and others. And yet there are also many who have been faithful, who can say with the apostle Paul, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tim 4:7). May we be found among them, “who through faith and endurance inherit the promises” (Heb 6:12).