Pastors are people too.  I know that smells of a bad bumper sticker, but sometimes trite sayings are spot-on. Pastors are first people. And people fail and fall often. The pressure of deadlines, personal expectations, unhealthy desires and hunger for fame often causes our hearts to drift from the source of all life and satisfaction, Jesus Christ.

This week Harvest Bible Chapel announced the firing of James McDonald, ending his 30-year tenure as Senior Pastor of the multi-site megachurch. It turns out that James McDonald (whom I have respected from a distance because of his fervor in preaching the scripture with zeal and power) drifted. The official reports give details of mismanagement, spiritual abuse and ego trips. It would be unhelpful to speculate why McDonald behaved in these ways. While I may never know why, it’s safe to say how. How did he get here? He drifted. I don’t need to know James McDonald to make an assessment. I have enough information when I mine the depths of my own pastoral heart. Here is what I know and remind myself when I read about yet another pastor falling:

PASTORS ARE NO DIFFERENT

Ministry is hard.  I’m sure every occupation has its own share of headaches. Mechanics and nurses and customer service folks all have the right to complain about the difficulties of their trade. But those who shepherd—those who pastor as a calling—face a unique burden. Eugene Peterson calls it the “cure of souls”. The primary sense of cura in Latin is care. Pastors don’t simply run a church—they care for the people in their charge. Counseling and correction, gentle nudges and gigantic pushes toward faith, and leading and lamenting over every broken heart is what it means to care. Ministry is hard.  But succumbing to the pain and loss and heartache and pressure of ministry is what causes us to pull up anchor from the ocean of grace and drift to the margins of life.  Jesus must be enough when ministry is hard.

People are not the prize.  When ministry is hard, people often become the prize.  More people in the seats and more money in the bucket gets translated as success. In McDonald’s case, one more multisite. Another book deal. Fame keeps us starving for people’s praise. Justin Anderson says it well, “For the last couple years, I have been living the dream. Our church has seen explosive growth, people be saved, baptized, and join groups all the time. We have four campuses, thousands of people, and a great staff. Finally, all the toil of church planting has paid off and the prospect of megachurch stardom was a reality. I finally reached the promised land, and I can report that it’s just OK.”  The moment we put people on the throne as the treasured prize of ministry is the moment we have forgotten that Jesus is the treasure and the ultimate prize of a life lived in the shadow of the cross.

Don’t judge too harshly.  The moment Harvest Bible Chapel posted their announcement blood was in the water.  Every blogger critical of the church, (whether it be big church, corporate church, fun church, evangelistic church, worshipping church, or church on mission), these guys were like a pack of piranha to a wounded puppy. And it was painful to watch. More painful was my immediate instinct to bring my own personal judgment to the table and heap them on. But as these church statements become more and more common, I pause and realize I am just one bad decision from shipwrecking my life. I do not walk in McDonald’s unfortunate shoes, but I could be.

Walk in deep community.  Every story of a broken, addicted, adulterous and pride-filled pastor removed from his role as shepherd shares one common theme: they were not in deep gospel community. Most pastors I know want to walk deeply with people.  Most long for someone to understand their life and struggle. Ironically, most pastors can preach an impassioned sermon on community, but are at a loss on how to actually live it out. This was true of McDonald, Perry Noble, Bill Hybels and the hundred others of recent years. I remind myself that my life as pastor is meant to be lived with others—not in front of others or behind others, but with them. And if I am joyfully submitted to them, loved deeply by them, walking in communion with them, urged to repent often by them, and serve alongside them, I know I’ll have a long tenure.

The church is still the only hope. When a pastor falls I remind myself, “The church, not the pastor, is the hope of the world.” Harvest Bible Chapel will be fine. I believe that. Another person will stand at the pulpit this weekend to open the scripture and people will hear and respond and thrive. Not because of the man, but because of the God-man, Jesus. I look at the wake of bodies behind every fallen pastor and I can take heart knowing Jesus is the one who promises to finish what he starts. I pray for McDonald. But I pray for my own heart and for the heart of every pastor who is drifting into places they never thought they could go.