It’s not an easy time to be alive as a public figure. Everyone is watching, all of the time. Every outfit (lip color/face lift/botox refresh) is scrutinized; every post (like/follow/restack) is dissected; every interaction (the sweet ones, the vicious ones, the uninvited ones, the staged-for-the paparazzi ones) is being filmed and dished out as fodder for the armchair quarterbacks watching at home. Precisely-chosen decisions and thoughtless reactions are given equal weight, and all are fair game for the critical masses.

It’s also not an easy time to be alive for anyone who holds public figures on a pedestal. Our modern-day heroes have no choice but to relinquish any semblance of privacy, and the access we have to their life choices and internal beliefs means that these individuals will inevitably disappoint us. Most of those disappointments will likely be small and navigable, but there will also be massive moral failings that are impossible to ignore.

After years of watching celebrity pastors and respected teachers and other supposed “good guys (and girls)” act in reprehensible ways, I’ve learned to stop idolizing. There are still individuals whose teaching I value, whose lives seem God-honoring and worthy of emulation, but I am fully aware that every single one of them is a human being capable of sin. If I watch long enough, look closely enough, they will eventually let me down. I might be saddened by their sin, but I am not devastated, and I’m not surprised.

What DOES surprise me is when I see fallen individuals immediately return to the public square with little apology—and, apparently, none needed, because they quickly reclaim their pastoral leadership, are given platforms on podcasts that broadcast to millions, or sign tell-all book deals that allow them to profit off of their sinful behavior. I should be used to this by now, but it still surprises me, every time.

Before I move on, I want to make myself clear on something: I am not a fan of Cancel Culture. I don’t think that a person’s moral failings, changing beliefs, or inappropriate public comments are grounds for an ended friendship.¹ We worship a God of second chances, and I believe that we, as His followers, are called to offer forgiveness and grace to the genuinely penitent. Past mistakes—no matter how large or how public—do not exclude repentant followers of Christ from eternal salvation, and they do not automatically disqualify a person from relationship or from participating in the work of His earthly Kingdom.

But forgiveness (which is a given) is not the same thing as restoration (which must be earned). And cancellation (which I don’t condone) is not the same thing as appropriate de-platforming (which I support). I believe in redemption for the repentant. I also believe in consequences, and among those consequences can—and often should—be the loss of spiritual authority (and corresponding public platform) for the pastor who has committed a serious offense.

Our pastors and spiritual leaders are held to a higher standard than other believers. In the words of John Piper (who has an excellent piece on this subject), “when a pastor commits adultery — a pastor now, not just a believer — he’s sinning not only against God, not only against his wife, not only against the light of the biblical witness of the new creation in Christ; he is also sinning against the glory of the gospel ministry, and he is sinning against the trust of a people of God, and against the reputation of the gospel in the community.” Because his sins are so far-reaching, a leader who has had an egregious moral failing (or, in a smilar vein, has begun to espouse clearly unbiblical beliefs) is no longer qualified to shepherd his flock.

I think a case could be made for allowing that individual to return to a place of authority after a very, very extended period of time away that has involved spiritual and emotional rehabilitation and guidance from other spiritual leaders . . . but I’m thinking in terms of decades, not a handful of months or years. I just don’t know that someone who has proven themself untrustworthy should immediately receive a second chance at having our trust. We wouldn’t ask a newly-sober alcoholic to run a bar, and I don’t think that we should hand over our soul-care to a pastor or other spiritual teacher whose sin patterns have recently been exposed.

This is such a difficult topic, so once again I am going to pause to add some clarity: I am NOT saying that change isn’t possible; with God, ALL things are possible. But discernment is necessary. Broken individuals are ALWAYS welcome in the church (if this weren’t the case, our church pews would be empty because there isn’t a single one of us who is not broken in some way). However, it’s important to exercise caution and discernment when opening our pulpits and other public platforms to those still nursing an open wound. To quote John Piper again, “men who have lived in deception and immorality and hypocrisy for a significant time, and then are caught, have hardened their hearts and dulled their capacities to repent for so long, that their ability to see things for what they really are is profoundly impaired. They’re calling themselves repentant, but they can’t see. They don’t have the sensibilities; they’ve been deadened for so long. And so, they are in no position . . . soon after their discovery, to make any good judgments about their fitness for ministry and what is good for the flock and the glory of Christ.”

What Piper is saying about deadened sensibilities is critical; we’ve seen it in action. I can think of a few well-known instances in which a pastor or other spiritual teacher has had a public fall and immediately gone on to share his or her story of recovery . . . only to fall again, and on a much larger scale. The fallen individual was not ready to move forward in a healthy way, and the premature restoration led to even greater spiritual fallout. Healing takes time, and it is needed for both the fallen leader and the church body (or watching public) that was harmed by his or her moral failing.

It seems like there are two very strong and very polarized stances on this issue. On one side are those who do not think any sins should disqualify a leader from ministry; after all, this camp might argue, we are all sinners—how is their sin any different? On the opposite end of the spectrum are those who think a fallen pastor is no longer fit for leadership of any kind and has no place in the church. I guess I’m arguing for a sort of middle ground: I recognize the universality of sin, and I believe that God can use our broken pasts for His glory. It’s important, though, that we don’t view God’s ability to use broken individuals as a mandate for the restoration of authority.

Because our society places pastors—especially public ones—on a pedestal, it’s easy to buy into the false belief that they are only being used by God if they remain in the public eye. This is a lie. God does some of His best work behind the scenes. A fallen pastor might be unqualified for official ministry, but that does not mean God is not using that person in other, less visible ways. I would love to see a shift towards fallen leaders who are willing to acknowledge that they are no longer qualified for the spotlight but are open to sharing the lessons of their experience in smaller, quieter ways—in recovery groups, or among friends, in the capacity of a fellow brother or sister in Christ. We need to stop conflating “removal of authority” (which is Biblical) with “irredeemable cancelation” (which isn’t). Only once we stop buying into this false equivalency can we grow comfortable with holding leaders accountable for their sins while also leaving space for them to be used by God in other, less public capacities.

I know that this whole topic is deeply controversial—far more controversial than my usual content. However, it’s something that has been weighing heavily on me for some time, and I knew that writing my way through it would help bring some clarity—if not to you (who may or may not have big thoughts and feelings on this subject), at least to me. My goal in writing is not to stir any pots but to encourage all of us to exercise Biblical discernment AS WELL as compassion in this area. I am also fully willing to accept that I am entirely wrong about much of this; if you feel that is the case, I invite you to leave me a comment or send me a personal message with your own take. As always, I value your readership as well as your opinions—even if they differ from mine.

Heavenly Father, I thank you for being a loving and forgiving God, who is not surprised by our sin and who can redeem our brokenness. At the same time, you are a holy God who does not take sin lightly. I pray that you would make our hearts more like yours: help us to show mercy and compassion towards our leaders who have sinned while also holding them accountable for the ways that their actions have broken our trust. Give us discernment in knowing when to welcome them back and when to allow more time and space for healing. I know that the enemy would love to use issues like this one to stir up division in the body; I pray that we will have unity, even in our differing opinions. And I pray that the public sins of our pastors and leaders will inspire a greater desire for holiness among your children.

1. This isn’t to say that we must continue following public figures who have disappointed us, or with whom we no longer share a belief system. I have never ended a personal friendship over changing values or exposed sin, but I have unfollowed many public figures for these reasons. Just because I don’t think every misstep means a person should be stripped of their platform does not mean I am obligated to continue following someone whose message is no longer of value to me. ↩︎