Why Pastors Cry (and How to Prevent It)

Philippians 3:17-4:1

17Join together in following my example, brothers and sisters, and just as you have us as a model, keep your eyes on those who live as we do. 18For, as I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. 19Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things. 20But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, 21who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.

1Therefore, my brothers and sisters, you whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, dear friends!

Why Pastors Cry (and How to Prevent It)

As I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears ____________.

Did you know pastors cry? We do. We’re human. We’re not made of stone. The question is, what makes pastors cry? What would make your pastor cry? The state of the world today? Wars overseas. Trade wars at home? Ungodly influence in the lives of God’s people? Yes, but that’s not how Paul finishes his sentence, is it?

For, as I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ.[1]

Many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. It’d be easy to assume that these enemies are Satanic influences in this world – the government officials who want to shut Christian churches down, the identity crusaders who want to fundamentally change who we think we are, etc… But that’s not who Paul is talking to or about. The “many” who are enemies of the cross of Christ are not outsiders to Christianity. They’re Christians who have “lost the thread” of their faith. Who have grown disillusioned with the difficulty that comes with being a Christian and have either compromised their faith or given up entirely.

I literally lose sleep at night thinking about the teenagers I spent 2 whole years studying God’s Word with, whom I coached to confess their faith, whose vow I facilitated that they would rather die than give up their faith or the regular practice of it – and yet who nevertheless are not here and haven’t been in a long time, in some cases since the day they made that vow.

It tears a pastor up watching members allow their stomachs to become their god. Of course, Paul isn’t talking about gluttony here. He’s talking about our inner desires, our cravings – whether it’s for sex outside of marriage (or even just the idea of it), vicariously living through the ceaseless activity of our children, turning our occupations into our religion, an endless stream of entertainment and travel that leaves no room for worship or devotion, our self-indulgent appetites for gossip, rage-bait news articles, YouTube conspiracy theories – basically anything that we invest our time and energy into that prevents us from setting our minds on godly things, anything that we pursue in the hopes that it will give us the satisfaction and joy we should be seeking from the Lord.

Or another way to think of it is a lukewarm faith – the willingness to call ourselves Christian but to pick and choose the parts we want to believe and do; the unwillingness to let go of things that are not only not specifically Christian but in some cases even anti-Christian, actively harmful to our faith; only being willing to practice a comfortable Christianity, so when schedules get tight or you have to choose between faith and fun, it’s often church that can wait.

I don’t think there’s anything that grieves a pastor’s heart more. Not because attendance goes down. Not because singing suffers. Not because there aren’t enough volunteers. But because this is not neutral behaviour. This is not a middle thing that you get to choose to do or not. These kinds of behaviours are a rejection of Jesus’ definition of being a disciple.

Jesus is the one who tells us that if we want to be his disciples, then we have to take up our crosses – face the challenges that come with Christianity – and follow him. When the demands of this life – the honey-do list at home, the non-stop kid schedule, the bottomless pit of work you could never finish if you had 30 hours in a day – when those demands stand in the way of the exercise of our faith, being a disciple of Jesus means saying “No” to good things that have become distractions. It’s all the “Yeses” to earthly things and “Nos” to godly things that grieve a pastor’s heart.

Paul admits as much to the Philippians. Jeremiah preached it to the people of Judah. Jesus lamented about it with Jerusalem. Many of us live as enemies of the cross of Christ. We set our minds on earthly things.

But that’s why Paul reminds us where we’re from:

But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.[2]

We may be permanent residents of this world, but we were made for another world altogether, and the sooner we remember that, the sooner we can break the fixation we have with this life and whatever paltry joys it has to offer. Because, in the end, that’s the thing about all the stuff we spend our time and energy on in this world – it’s just stuff. It may put a smile on our face for a moment, but it doesn’t satisfy, not the way we want it to.

Whatever secret knowledge or insider information we think we’re gleaning from internet experts doesn’t help us educate others or build them up; it belittles them and exasperates them and is often just flat-out wrong. Whatever momentary joy we derive – whether from forbidden fruit or even godly gifts (like our work, our house, our family) – is here today and gone tomorrow. It evaporates as quickly as it arrived, and you’re left looking for the next thing and the next thing that will give you a similar feeling.  

That’s why Paul reminds us that our citizenship is in heaven, and that we are eagerly awaiting a Saviour from there. Thankfully, we don’t have to wait for long. Paul tells us who that Saviour is – the Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus didn’t have his mind set on earthly things when he entered this earthly world. He wasn’t seeking pleasure and satisfaction and joy from work or family or entertainment. On the contrary:

For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.[3]

Jesus’ mission was to do the hard thing – to point out sin in the hearts and lives of people he loved, to make us aware of how much we need forgiveness, and then to give it to us in the hardest way possible – by giving up his life on a cross for us. Jesus came to let his shame be the glory we seek. Jesus came to be destroyed so that our destiny could be secured forever. Jesus had the power to bring everything under his control, and he used it to save our souls from our sin and to give us the hope of heaven where he will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.

Think about that. All the things that we chase after in this life – God has a better answer for. Are you seeking enjoyment, happiness, satisfaction? Where better to find a joy that will last than in heaven? Are you seeking information, knowledge, wisdom? Where better to find it than in the revealed Word of our God that will guide us through life and into eternity? Are you looking for peace and relief? Find it in your Saviour Jesus – his hard-won forgiveness and his promise of your citizenship in heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves cannot break in and steal.[4]

So, don’t store up for yourselves treasures on earth.[5] Don’t set your minds on earthly things.[6] Instead, do the two things Paul tells you to:

Join together in following my example, brothers and sisters, and just as you have us as a model, keep your eyes on those who live as we do.[7]

Follow the example of the people you look up to in faith. You’re not alone. You don’t have to blaze a new trail. The best example to follow, of course, is Jesus’ but think how many people have followed in his footsteps since he left this world. Maybe it was your neighbour who never missed a Sunday, but whom you saw get out of bed every week rain or shine and go to church. Maybe it was your dad, who showed you that you don’t have to have the newest car or the nicest clothes, but that your contentment comes from the Lord. Maybe it was your mom, who taught you where true value in life comes from – not in being the biggest, fastest, strongest, smartest, prettiest, most successful, but being a citizen of heaven. Maybe it was a pastor who taught you how to make use of your heavenly citizenship while you sojourn here on earth.

Truthfully, it’s all of the above, isn’t it? It’s the combination and collection of all the good and godly influences God does fill our lives with. We’re not left without example, and as long as they’re following Jesus, we would do well to follow them.

Therefore, brothers and sisters, you whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, dear friends![8]

Do you hear the pride in Paul’s voice? Can you feel the love in these words? Brothers and sisters. You whom I love and long for. My joy and crown. Dear friends! The reason pastors cry is because they care. You are my family in Christ. You are the ones I love and labour for. Forget titles, statistics, or potential future building projects. You and your Christian lives lived in Christian faith and love are what put a smile on my face and fill me with pride as I think about our shared future in heaven.

So, stand firm in the Lord. Don’t get distracted by the world. Remember where your citizenship is. You’re just a tourist here. Heaven is your home. Live like it. Don’t let your stomach become your god. Crave your Saviour Jesus. Fill your heart and your mind with the glory of his cross. Don’t shirk the hard work of being a Christian or shrink from its challenges, but put your hope and your confidence in him who has the power to forgive your sin, to bring new meaning to your life on earth, and finally to bring you home to heaven where he will bring you a joy and satisfaction and contentment otherwise unknown to this world.

So, dear Christian friends, please spare your pastor sleepless nights and tearstained pillowcases. Rejoice in the Christian family you were made a part of by the blood of Christ. Follow the example of the faithful who have gone before you. Stand firm in the Lord. Amen.

[1] Philippians 3:18

[2] Philippians 3:20

[3] Hebrews 12:2

[4] Matthew 6:20

[5] Matthew 6:19

[6] Philippians 3:19

[7] Philippians 3:17

[8] Philippians 4:1

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Jesus Sinners Does Receive

Luke 18:9-14

9To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: 10“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. 12I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

13“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

14“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Jesus Sinners Does Receive

“To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else.”[1]

Do you know anyone like that? We’re talking high horse, holier than thou, hypocritical, condescending narcissists. People who are quick to point out shortcomings in others, but are too oblivious to see their own. They always have an excuse, a reason to justify their behaviour. It’s never their fault; it’s always someone else’s. They work hard to project a certain image, but if you really know them, then you know that it’s just a show.

As it happens, I have a picture of one right here. I thought I’d put it in a frame tonight to show you. I look at this person with a mixture of disgust and disappointment. I would have thought more of them. I would have hoped that they could have done better. I think about all their ambitions, their stated goals and dreams – and if they would have accomplished half of them I would have been proud. But that’s a pretty big “if.” As it stands, I see just the kind of person Jesus is talking about in his parable.  

Obviously, the Pharisee is the one who fits Jesus’ description – confident of his own righteousness; looked down on everyone else. It’s really a pretty disgusting display. And that’s exactly what it is, right? A display. He’s putting on a show. He’s standing up for everyone to see and saying out loud:

“God, I thank you that I’m not like other people – robbers, evildoers, adulterers – or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.”[2]

I mean, if you’re a parent of children that is the kind of person you’d want your kids to grow up to be like, right? You don’t want them to be robbers, evildoers, or adulterers. You want them to be healthy and active and faithful in their worship-life. These are all objectively good things, right? So, what’s wrong with what the Pharisee is saying?

I suppose you could argue that it’s not so much what he’s saying as it is how he’s saying it. There’s certainly truth to that. There’s an arrogance in everything that he says that undercuts any positive messaging that might be there. There are context clues and even implied physical gestures that he makes that reveal his heart. But I do think there’s one element of what he says that doesn’t require context or tone to prove him to be in the wrong. Look again at his prayer. What word does he use the most?

“I thank you that I’m not like other people… I fast twice a week and I give a tenth of all I get.”

This really isn’t a prayer at all. It’s a monologue. He’s not really thanking God; he’s invoking God’s name to thank himself. It’s bald-faced, self-aggrandizing narcissism. He’s showing off and making an effort for other people to see how good a person he is.

But let’s be fair to the Pharisee. He may be a narcissist who only thinks about himself, but it’s not like he’s a megalomaniac. He doesn’t put himself on par with God. There is clearly a difference in hierarchy, otherwise he wouldn’t fast or tithe. He admits that he owes God something. But this is precisely where the Pharisee goes wrong. He thinks he can supply what he owes.

The Pharisee will readily admit, “I’m not a perfect person,” but then he’ll always add the caveat: “…but at least I’m not like other people;” “…at least I do all the things I’m supposed to.”

That’s where I fear we get this parable wrong. The Pharisee didn’t think he was a perfect person; he knew he had sinned. The Pharisee just didn’t need God. And that’s what this guy gets wrong far too often too.

Do you want to see the picture of the person who is confident of their own righteousness and looks down on everyone else? Who did you think it was going to be a picture of? The leading politician for the party you don’t support? The hockey player who was supposed to support his own country but gave a thumbs up to the other team instead? The actor who gave the most self-righteous acceptance speech at the Oscars? Did you think it was going to be a picture of me? Isn’t that exactly the problem?

Our sinful hearts are so quick to deflect the blame, e.g. “If you want to see sinful, self-centered hypocrites, I can rattle off a list of names!” Our selfish minds find it so easy to rationalize and justify our behaviour, e.g. “It was someone else’s fault; what else was I supposed to do under the circumstances?” We are so slow to own up to our own wrongdoing, and we’re even worse at admitting there’s nothing we can do to make up for it.

We like to believe that our attendance at church, our contributions to the offering, our participation in Bible study, volunteerism in the community, evangelism with the Gospel in some way bridges the gap between us and the God we daily sin against. But here is the hard truth of Ash Wednesday – unless you come with no hope in your heart that there is anything you could do to make up for what you’ve done, then you are the Pharisee; then you are the one who will be humbled and not go home justified before God.

The Pharisees are not some ancient sect or some phantom organization that works behind the scenes to undermine Christianity from within. The Pharisees are who every one of us is by nature. It is the natural inclination of our sinful hearts, and ultimately the enemy of God’s mercy. Pharisees have no use for God. Pharisees aren’t perfect, but at least we’re not as bad as other people; at least we do the right thing after we mess up, right? Wrong. There is nothing that you or I or any other Pharisee can do to solve the problem of sin, to pay off the debt we owe God.

Which is exactly why the tax collector is the one who went home justified before God, who was exalted. Because he humbled himself. That’s what repentance is, and that’s what Ash Wednesday – and all of Lent – is all about.

How different that tax collector’s prayer was. Obviously, he didn’t boast about all the good that he had done, the way the Pharisee did, but notice that he didn’t even take the time to list out his sins, because he didn’t have to. It’s not as if God didn’t know. God knows our sin better than we know it. What did the tax collector do instead? He owned up to his sin.

Do you see the difference? It’s one thing to say, “I sinned.” It’s another to say, “I’m a sinner.” To say, “I sinned,” can be incidental, episodic, accidental. To say, “I’m a sinner,” gets to the core of who I am as a person; acknowledges my complete inability to do anything about it; throws myself at the mercy of God. And as hopeless as that may feel, it’s the best place for us to be, and it’s the beautiful reality of repentance.

You don’t have to come here pretending to be someone or something you’re not. You don’t have to compare yourself to the other people in this room or in this world. You get to come here exactly as you are – warts and all – and know not that you are accepted by God, but that you’re forgiven by him.

That’s why we do what we do on Ash Wednesday. We smear soot on our foreheads for everyone to see that we are unclean. Our sin makes us dirty – in God’s sight, but also in reality and in our relationships with other people. This black mark is not a pharisaical way to show that we’re better than anyone else because we’re doing what “good Christians” do. It’s the honest admission that we’re not worthy and we need God’s mercy.

And that’s also why it’s the shape that it is, i.e. a cross, to remind us where we meet God’s mercy. We don’t make up for our sin by doing good things. God doesn’t forget our sin or overlook it for the sake of his love. He dealt with it by the sacrifice of his Son. He took it away and blotted it out forever. And only by wearing our sin on our sleeves and admitting our complete unworthiness can we ever receive the mercy God so freely gives. Or as Jesus puts it,

“Those who humble themselves will be exalted.”[3]

This Lent, hold the proper kind of hope in your heart – not the hope that comes from caveats and qualifications, not the hope that comes from making reparations for sin, but the hope that only comes from the salvation of our God that springs his merciful heart that gave his Son to be our Saviour. This Lent, take a page out of the tax collector’s playbook and offer your repentance without justification, excuse, or explanation, but simply acknowledge who you are and therefore also who God is – a sinner and our Saviour, i.e. unworthy recipients of unlimited mercy, humbled but exalted, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Praise be to God! There is forgiveness for your sin. Jesus sinners does receive. Amen.

[1] Luke 18:9

[2] Luke 18:11,12

[3] Luke 18:14

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