WHEN I STARTED OUT in pastoral work, I wanted to be the best pastor who ever lived. I wanted to do things for God that Moses never did. I wanted to accomplish such great things for the kingdom that the whole world would rise up and take note. I wanted to be the tool God used to bring revival to America. I wanted to build a big church, because I thought building a big church and being a successful pastor were the same thing. I imagined I would get to heaven and God would personally meet me at the gate and say something like, “You’re finally here. We’ve been waiting for you. You’re the best pastor we’ve ever had. Come and enjoy your Master’s happiness!”
As I reflect on those lofty thoughts and note that each sentence begins with “I,” I think of the words of Lucifer in Isaiah 14:13-14: “I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned … I will … I will make myself like the Most High.”
While I had no intention of becoming God, I was blind to my pride. I once heard that the only vitamin we all have too much of is Vitamin I. Pride is insidious. The more filled I am with pride, the more difficult it is to detect.
Several years into my first full-time pastorate, the number of Sunday services had multiplied. People sat in the foyer and on the sidewalks outside listening to my preaching from speakers. When people commended the success, I humbly told them that God was at work. He was. But so was I—and hard at it.
One day I read an article in Christianity Today on church growth by a man who had studied more than one hundred growing churches in America. He had interviewed more than fifty pastors and codified the common denominators that contributed to church growth, such as plenty of parking, vision for the future, creative programming, openness to new people, and an ability to raise money. The analyst then stuck a dagger into my heart when he concluded, “I have found among these pastors a deep passion to build a big church; however, I have not found a corresponding passion to know God.”
I stared long and hard at the page. A wave of embarrassment and conviction overwhelmed me.
Was it possible that building a large church and being a good pastor were not the same? Was it possible to build a church and not have my soul knit tightly to God’s? Was I mistaking my endeavors to bring glory to God and instead building a name for myself in disguise? Was I proud?
Yes, yes, yes, and yes.
A proud pastor is an ugly thing. Instead of displaying the glories of God, the proud pastor exalts fleshly ability. Instead of flowing with the message of God, the proud pastor is clogged with the pronouncements of self. Instead of experiencing the blessings of the Almighty, the proud pastor seeks satisfaction on the altar of human ability. Instead of emanating the sweet fragrance of the divine, the proud pastor stinks with an aroma of decay.
May God have mercy on my soul.
How do you apologize enough when you have used God’s name and his church to build a name for yourself? How do you react when false humility is pulled back to reveal a heart dirtied with pride? I wept, confessed, and promised God I would sort out the issues and deal with my pride. I wanted to serve with humility in the vineyard he had entrusted to me.
One of the most devastating consequences of pride is the way it impairs our ability to hear God. In Psalm 138:6, David wrote, “Though the Lord is on high, he looks upon the lowly, but the proud he knows from afar.” Some people are content with hearing God from afar. However, with the pressure of the ministry and considering the deep longings of my heart, I want close communion with, not estrangement from, God. In 2 Chronicles 7:14, God said, “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven. …”
Humility must precede prayer. Before I can pray, I must deal with my pride. It is difficult to lead people when my pride stifles God’s voice, through which he wants to lead me. I have assembled a list of questions that help me identify pride.
1. Am I waking up at 3:00 a.m. filled with anxiety? The real issue is self-reliance. Whom do I trust to take care of the church, my family, and me? Pride is at work when I delude myself into thinking I am able to meet every need, to head off every problem.
One Christmas we drove 1,000 miles from Tucson to Dallas to spend the holidays with our folks. We were at a critical juncture in our church’s history, and I was coming unglued. I hoped to find rest and solace in my parents’ house where I grew up. Sleeping in my old bed and walking around the neighborhood often brought peace and restoration to my soul. But this time relief did not come. Night after night I awoke in terror, shaking with anxiety and fear, tormented with thoughts of impending doom.
Early one morning, unable to sleep, I got out of bed at three and walked into the den to think. Staring out the window into the darkened yard, I recalled the day I first crossed our backyard on my way to Walnut Hill School. Life was so simple then. Quietly I sensed God come near. You are living as if I don’t exist, he whispered in my inner spirit. Your lifestyle is the essence of pride. No wonder you are a wreck. Trust me. I can handle these problems. After all, I am God, and you’re not.
God reminded me of Isaiah 31:1: “Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, who rely on horses, who trust in the multitude of their chariots and in the great strength of their horsemen, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel.” When anxiety, worry, or fear disturb my sleep too often, I know I am becoming my own Egypt.
2. Am I too busy to spend time with God? The workday begins, and my pride deludes me into thinking I have too much to do to spend time with God. Unless I get right to work, the church will fall apart. Soon I am trapped in frenzied activity that leaves me exhausted and stressed out.
My lifestyle was harried in the months before we traveled to Dallas. The morning after God spoke to me by the window, I opened my Bible and discovered a note I had written beside Isaiah 30:15-17, ten years earlier: “From Bill Nicholson to me during a time of stress and anxiety over job pressures and new church building (10-8-87).” I held my breath as I followed the arrow to the Scripture Bill intended for me to ponder: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it. … A thousand will flee at the threat of one; at the threat of five you will all flee away, till you are left like a flagstaff on a mountaintop, like a banner on a hill.”
Has nothing changed in ten years? I thought. Bill could have pointed me here this week.
It was December 23, 1997, and Isaiah described exactly how I felt—alone and abandoned—like a flagstaff on a mountaintop, like a lonely banner on a hill. I vowed never again to live on my own without God. No matter how busy I think I have to be, nothing is more important than repentance, rest, quietness, and trust. To ignore these as unnecessary is a sign of pride.
3. Do I feel like I’m driving with the parking brake on?
When pride creeps in, all of a sudden the work gets hard. Pastoring is no longer a delight. Instead, ministry becomes a heroic effort to rescue my plans and intentions. I believe this struggle is the outworking of James 4:6: “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” Since God hates pride, he does whatever is necessary to deal with it. The apostle Paul’s thorn was designed to thwart his pride: “To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh” (2 Cor. 12:7).
Not all problems are the result of God’s opposition to pride. James taught that it was possible to distinguish between normal, everyday struggles and God’s steadfast opposition to the swelling of self. In the context of trials, James wrote, “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him” (James 1:5).
When I feel like I’m driving with the parking brake on, I need to ask myself: Are my ministry headaches simply routine struggles of everyday life? Or are they the result of God’s steadfast opposition to my pride?
The answers are critical. The first place to begin to find them is to ask God for wisdom.
4. Is people’s approval sweet to my taste? One morning I noticed an open spiral notebook on the bed. “Prayer List” was written across the top of the page in my wife’s handwriting. I could not help myself; I picked it up and was humbled to discover the first seven requests were for me. Her first petition took my breath away: “Please deliver Roger from the fear of man, which will prove to be a snare” (Prov. 29:25).
I asked Julie, “What’s this all about?”
“Remember when King Saul lost his kingdom?” she replied. “Samuel accused him of rebellion, arrogance, witchcraft, and disobedience. Remember Saul confessed that he had made a premature sacrifice because he was afraid of the people and so he gave in to them?
“I pray every day that you’ll not fall into the trap of failing to do whatever God wants because you’re afraid of what people might think.”
I once heard Ralph and Lou Sutera, two revival leaders in Canada, identify the “pride of the praise of men” as “the temptation to bias intentions concerning actions and behavior according to what people think.” They further described the “pride of the praise of men” as:
- secret fondness of being noticed
- a love of supremacy
- drawing attention to myself in conversation
- loving to have my name at the top of the list
- enjoying flattery
- a forwardness in displaying my talents and attainments publicly, or secretly complimenting myself instead of giving glory to God
- being afraid to launch out for God because 1 am afraid of what some people might say.
King Saul lost his kingdom because he was afraid of what people thought. Jesus declared that many Pharisees were hell-bound because they tried to please God and the people simultaneously (John 5:41-44; 12:42-43). Paul declared that if he were still seeking to please people, he could not be the servant of Christ (Galatians 1:10). Pleasing people is an insidious form of pride that I seem to fight continually.
5. Am I tempted to promote my church at pastors meetings or church conventions? My mother- and father-in-law had a business conflict arise just before their scheduled departure for a ministry trip to Brazil. At the last minute, they asked if Julie and I were interested in taking their place. We caught up with the traveling pastors, who were all from the same city in Texas, at the airport in Dallas. The leader introduced us as the “Arizona contingent” who would join them in leading revivals on the outskirts of Rio.
Julie and I watched with fascination the unspoken but unmistakable pecking order among these pastors, based entirely upon the size of their churches. At first, the only ones who talked with us were pastors from the smallest churches. During the week, as our church size became known, we were welcomed into conversations with larger and larger groups.
Paul wrote, “We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise” (2 Cor. 10:12).
I hate that stab in my heart when I hear of another’s ministry that is better, more meaningful, or more well known than my own. Comparing my ministry and work with others brings heartache, disappointment, and bondage.
6. Am I feeling shy? I have often wondered how I survived as a pastor when I struggled continually with shyness. At church parties and functions, I have forced myself to meet people and to encourage the flock. The only clue most folks have had to my bondage was my penchant for isolating myself under the guise of one-on-one counseling or entering into long-winded discussions with a few whenever I was in a group setting.
As I mentioned in an earlier chapter, there is a side of pride that wants to be out front, that delights in being seen and noticed: I hope everyone notices me and what I say or do. I want the attention.
But there is a flip side to pride: Oh my, I feel uncomfortable because people are looking at me. If I am not careful I might call attention to myself, or say something stupid, or do something to embarrass myself, so I will remain quiet and in the background and hope no one notices me.
I struggle with both sides of pride. I like to be recognized and receive the “pride of the praise of men.” On the other hand, my shyness often keeps me from speaking or acting freely, because I fear what people might think.
I used to think God had given me a shy personality. I thought it was my lot in life to struggle with an inferiority complex. Then one day I realized shyness was ruining my personality. A quiet personality is one thing, but shyness is something else. Out of my struggles, I developed a definition of pride: Pride is simply an over-concern with self.
7. Am I content with the gifts, the talents, and the church God has given me? I was leading a conference when a recently retired pastor, well respected and admired in both church and secular circles, invited me to lunch between sessions. I confessed to him my deep-seated struggle with pride. I even recounted how I prayed to be greater than Moses and to do things for God no one else had ever done. He listened intently and smiled knowingly.
The restaurant owners had planted a garden of roses outside. It was spring, and the bushes were covered with bright red Mr. Lincoln roses. Large, pale yellow and pink Peace roses bloomed in abundance. The garden was filled with a sweet aroma, As we stepped outside, my friend mused, “How many most perfect roses do you think there are on the earth?”
This is a trick question, I thought, so I didn’t answer quickly. After moments of reflection, I could find no trick, so I said, “Well, I guess there is only one.”
“Wouldn’t it be a shame,” he replied, “if all the other roses ceased to exist because they weren’t the one most perfect? The world would miss out on a lot of color, sweet fragrance, and enjoyment.”
I got the message. Moses and I are no longer in competition. Being the best pastor and doing things for God no one has done no longer fascinate me. The arrogance that fuels those dreams is exorbitant. I would rather corral my pride, pray for humility, and be the pastor God designed me to be.
Copyright © 1998 Roger Barrier
