I was recently introduced to the Instagram phenomenon of Sneakers and Preachers. If you haven’t indulged in the high fructose corn syrup slop of the internet today, check it out. The entire page logs the footwear (and swag) of celebrity pastors. $3000 tennis shoes. $1300 Luis Vuitton pullover jacket. $450 belt buckles. $980 Gucci sweat pants.

All worn by pastors.

As I scrolled through the page, three things happened in my mind simultaneously. First, I added up what I was wearing in dollars and cents: 48 bucks. For full disclosure, I am frugal. Second, I wondered what makes tennis shoes cost $3000. Are they made from the foreskin of Goliath or bear an inscription from King Solomon? I have no idea. And third, I wondered how these guys made the emotional turn to thinking that sporting shoes that equal the total amount of my first car (1985 Isuzu Impulse) is somehow appropriate, kosher, or holy.

Stop Messing With My Peeps

I promise, I’m not being judgy here. At worst, I’m being pragmatic. The foundation of my concern is self-protection. I mean, yes, I am concerned for the longevity of pastors, concerned for their ministry focus, even concerned for the soul of the pastor who seems to have been derailed by a love for money and possessions. But mostly I’m concerned about me and the people I am trying to shepherd. I’m mad cause these guys are making my job harder!

So I say, Pastor, my people (and so many others), see you! Many assume because they hold the title of Pastor, their lives shouldn’t have to be scrutinized under the light of the gospel and God’s satisfying grace. People believe you when they hear you say, “I promise! Jesus is my treasure. But please wipe your feet before stepping onto my jet.” Pastor, by wearing your $3000 Prada, you’re putting on display what you love.  And in the process, you do your people harm. You do my people a disservice. You hurt the church and confuse the world.  

With the advent of the celebrity pastor within American evangelicalism, Christianity and fame have been—once again—unequally yoked as in the days of the church and Constantinople. Money, power, and sex have been syncretized into the modern American pulpit and it is almost impossible to decipher between a pastor who is meant to model humility, grace, and gentleness and this guy who pastors a mega church in LA and is shepherding the young, fragile heart of Bieber.

Tailored language wrapped in scripture they remind us, “Having nice things isn’t a sin,” “Pastors were never meant to be poor,” “I am able to minster to wealthy people by being wealthy.” Yep. I get it. From someone on the inside, these lines are veneers of truth painted on a dung heap of demonic greed and hatred for the global church. I’ve been pushed over the proverbial edge this week and need to remind at least those who I have the privilege of pastoring, why this stuff just stinks.

When Pastors Profit

First, when pastors (all Christians, for that matter) pursue wealth, wear $2000 outfits, and drive Lambos it minimizes the emphasis on gospel contentment. In fact, it can’t help but undermine it. In addition to Jeremiah 29:11, modern Christendom has fallen head-over-heels in love with Philippians 4:13. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Amen. Thank you Tim Tebow, we salute you!

One problem. This verse has zero to do with achievement, sports, or pursuing our financial dreams. It is anchored deeply in the pursuit of contentment. The Apostle Paul is reminding his people, I know the world is alluring; I know your neighbors put their hope in money and security; but your hope rests squarely in Jesus. Hold on to him with all you have! I have had much and I have lived in the lean, but I’ve learned to be content in all circumstances (Philippians 4:11-13). When we find our greatest joys in this world, we say convincingly to all those who see us, “Suck the marrow out of this life . . . cause eternity with Jesus is the consolation prize.”

Second, when pastors live like kings, it elevates the place of the pastor above those who serve in less prominent places. In other words, these prosperity scoundrels have somehow co-opted Old Testament narratives of men like Melchizedek or Solomon or Elijah to create a deviant theology that says, “Pastors, men of God, highly favored and anointed, we should be wealthy because these men in the bible were wealthy.”

Garrrrrrrrrrbaaaaaaage! Bad bible, bad theology, and certainly unhelpful for the single mom living in Detroit and vastly unattainable for the Christian man dying of AIDS in Sudan. This twisted ethic of an over-realized prosperity that creates a division and hierarchy between pastor and laity was never designed to be.

Third, when pastors teach and model this lifestyle, it is simply a deviance from clear teaching in Scripture. In fact, Jesus has much to say to the wealthy. Most of it is scary. If you’re wondering, being wealthy is not sinful, but it is dangerous. Jesus went so far to say, “It’s really hard for rich people to get into the kingdom” (paraphrase, Matthew 19:23). The reason is clear. Wealth, and certainly the pursuit of it, captures our attention and affection. By nature, we are unable to go in two directions. We cannot serve two masters (Matthew 6:24). Or, what does a person do with clear commands like Proverbs 23? “Do not wear yourself out to get rich; do not trust your own cleverness.Cast but a glance at riches, and they are gone, for they will surely sprout wings and fly off to the sky like an eagle” (vv. 4-5). Or 1 Timothy 6:9-10, “Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”

Friends, Jesus is not a means to an end. He is not a path to a greater reality. He is our source and provider and sustainer, and He calls us to lay down every small treasure in this world so that our arms might be open to hold onto Him forever.