A church generally will follow the example of its pastor. Through their teaching, through their example, pastors play a huge role in setting the culture of the church. Whatever the pastor is passionate about, that will come through, and the congregation usually will follow. As a general rule, the pastor will generally be the most spiritually-minded person in the congregation, because they’re the ones giving themselves to studying and preaching God’s Word. Which means how we live really matters. We want pastors to be men of “eminent piety.”

For Spurgeon, the Pastors’ College, out of all the many institutions of the Metropolitan Tabernacle, was the one that was “dearest to his heart.” Every Friday afternoon, after a long week of study, one of the favorite times of the students was when Spurgeon would lecture on a variety of topics related to pastoral ministry. And out of the many topics that he preached on, the one that he emphasized the most was the importance of the pastor’s “eminent piety,” that is his character.
We live in a day when so many gifted pastors and church leaders with large public ministries go astray in their private lives, in their character. And as a result, all that public ministry comes crashing down. This was no different in the 19th century. Spurgeon understood this well and he placed “eminent piety” as his first qualification for his students who were aspiring to be teachers. All who find themselves in the position of being a teacher of God’s Word should follow Paul’s admonition to Timothy: “Pay close attention to your life and your teaching.” This is what Spurgeon called “the minister’s self-watch.”
But why does a pastor’s character matter?
We Are Our Own Tools
Spurgeon puts it this way:
We are, in a certain sense, our own tools, and therefore must keep ourselves in order. If I want to preach the gospel, I can only use my own voice; therefore I must train my vocal powers. I can only think with my own brains, and feel with my own heart, and therefore I must educate my intellectual and emotional faculties. I can only weep and agonize for souls in my own renewed nature, therefore must I watchfully maintain the tenderness which was in Christ Jesus. It will be in vain for me to stock my library, or organize societies, or project schemes, if I neglect the culture of myself; for books, and agencies, and systems, are only remotely the instruments of my holy calling; my own spirit, soul, and body, are my nearest machinery for sacred service; my spiritual faculties, and my inner life, are my battle ax and weapons of war.
When it comes to the ministry of the Word, we are the tool, the instrument for conveying the gospel. That’s not to say that we ourselves are the Good News. No, we are jars of clay, bearing the treasure of the gospel. But at the same time, it matters how we conduct our lives. I think of Paul’s words to Timothy
2Tim. 2:20       In a large house there are articles not only of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay; some are for noble purposes and some for ignoble. 21 If a man cleanses himself from the latter, he will be an instrument for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work.
It is interesting to think about all the other things we think make for an effective minister: the latest laptop, a massive pastoral library, a powerful Bible study software tool, resources to help with sermon illustrations, on and on it goes. There is no shortage of pastoral tools and resources that Lifeway, Crossway, Logos, and everybody else wants to sell you. And in one sense, all those things are fine. But at the end of the day, as a minister of God’s Word, those things are not what carry the gospel. You are the vessel, the instrument of the gospel. As a pastor who owned thousands of books, Spurgeon reminds us that in the end, it’s character and life that matter.
Robert Murray M’Cheyne writing to a minister friend who had gone to study German theology put it like this,
I know you will apply hard to German, but do not forget the culture of the inner man — I mean of the heart.
Read More

Plenty of the same people who were outraged that the United States Supreme Court would overturn precedent on seminal abortion decisions, seemingly had no problem with the overturning of precedent in this Canadian case. This is because implicit in the view of rights and judicial review that many progressives hold, is that it is perfectly acceptable to overturn precedent in the name of expanding or establishing some newly discovered right — but once this is done, the debate is settled and there can be no reasonable dissent or change of heart. History, it seems, only marches in one direction.
An important part of the Carter decision, where the court determined that relevant social facts had changed, was essentially a blithe dismissal of exactly what has come to pass in Canada less than a decade after the decision. The court rejected the concern that once assisted suicide was allowed in some rare cases, there would be a “slippery slope” from helping terminally ill people end their lives, to a system in which vulnerable people like the disabled were caught in a euthanizing net.
Evidence presented in the case by a medical expert from Belgium that this might be possible, was dismissed by the court because “the permissive regime in Belgium is the product of a very different medico-legal culture.” Unlike those barbaric Belgians, enlightened Canada could avoid sliding down this slippery slope in which safeguards are easily gotten around. They would avoid the creeping expansion of eligibility by setting up a “carefully regulated scheme” that would keep its application narrow and exceptional.
Yet just seven years after the decision, the exact scenario dismissed by the court has come to pass. Who could have seen this coming? Well, all sorts of people, and not just religious voices. Disabilities advocates in Canada have been sounding the alarm on the path Canada was headed down since 2015, seemingly ignored by the courts and government.
Read More

Written by Edward T. Welch |
Monday, April 3, 2023
Even his opponents could see this: “Teacher, we know that you are true and teach the way of God truthfully, and you do not care about anyone’s opinion, for you are not swayed by appearances” (Matt. 22:16). Of course, their remarks were a form of flattery by which they hoped to trap Jesus, but they were true remarks nonetheless. Jesus’s imperviousness to the opinions of others was part of his teaching with authority, and it was one of the features that distinguished his ministry from that of all the other Jewish leaders.

It might be encouraging to know that fear of rejection has been a problem for a number of illustrious people throughout history. For example, Moses warned the leaders and judges of Israel about this very thing (Deut. 1:17). He knew that people reverence the opinions of others, show favoritism, and honor some people above others because they fear rejection from those whom they consider important.
This human tendency was an especially important issue for Israel’s judges. For example, if an Israelite had to judge a case involving a prominent metalworker, he might have experienced a certain pressure to make the judgment light or waive the penalty altogether. Otherwise, the metalworker might reject the judge the next time he needed his help. In other words, judges could be controlled by a defendant if the defendant had something that judges wanted. In such situations, people would become big and God’s justice would become small.
I wonder how many of us fear those who have more money, more power, more education, more attractiveness than we do. We could ask this question: Do I single out certain people and groups for their approval and acceptance because they can give me what I think I need? It could be a boss who does my annual review, a neighbor whose friendship enhances my status, a person who could help to make the church budget, or a spouse whose acceptance and approval are all- important.
King Saul is a specific biblical example of someone who experienced fear of rejection. In 1 Samuel 15, God commanded Saul to completely destroy the Amalekites. God then gave the armies of Israel grace to defeat these people, “but Saul and the people spared Agag [the king of the Amalekites] and the best of the sheep and of the oxen and of the fattened calves and the lambs, and all that was good” (1 Sam. 15:9). When the prophet Samuel confronted Saul with his gross disobedience, Saul confessed his sin but also justified it: “I feared the people and obeyed their voice” (1 Sam. 15:24).
Saul may have made this justification for one of two reasons. Perhaps he really did feel pressured by his generals to bring home some of the spoils of war. In that case, his excuse was indefensible in light of God’s endless warnings not to fear people. Or perhaps Saul reasoned that Samuel would accept his excuse because fearing others was such a common, human thing to do. After all, since fear of others is part of our fabric, how can we be held responsible for it? Regardless of which alternative represents Saul’s true motives, his fear of others had catastrophic results: it was the reason Saul lost his kingdom.
The Pharisees in the New Testament shared King Saul’s fear of rejection. They craved acceptance and approval from the people, and they were afraid they wouldn’t get it. Many Pharisees boasted that they didn’t believe in Jesus, and they even accused those who did of living under a delusion (John 7:45–49). Yet some leaders could not ignore Jesus’s authoritative teaching and miracles, and they quietly believed in him. In other words, they believed that Jesus was sent from God and was the Messiah for whom they had hoped and prayed.
You’d think that with such a conviction these leaders would become Jesus’s disciples immediately and seek to persuade the others to believe. Yet that didn’t happen. Their faith quickly withered. Why? They feared confessing their faith because of the possible reactions of those in the synagogue, “for they loved human praise more than praise from God” ( John 12:43 NIV). They felt they needed the praise of people. They feared rejection more than they feared the Lord.
Our Own Fear of Rejection
It sounds all too familiar. Sometimes we would prefer to die for Jesus than to live for him. If someone had the power to kill us for our profession of faith, I imagine that most Christians would say, “Yes, I am a believer in Jesus Christ,” even if it meant death. The threat of torture might make some think twice, but I think most Christians would acknowledge Christ regardless. However, if making a decision for Jesus means possibly spending years being unpopular, ignored, poor, or criticized, then many temporarily put their faith on the shelf. “Death is not imminent, so why hurry into such a rash decision?” “There will be time later to get things straight with God.” In other words, “Kill me, but don’t keep me from being liked, appreciated, or respected.”
Remember that one word: evangelism. I am sure that many teens would rather die than have their friends catch them hanging out with the church youth group or doing Christian drama on the streets. Aren’t the most popular mission trips the ones that take us far from our own neighborhoods? Africa is easy; our own neighborhoods are a constant challenge. Has anyone consistently had the boldness and clarity of Jesus to testify about the gospel? Never. Has anyone consistently avoided the fear of man in evangelism? Certainly not. There is a “foolishness” inherent in the message of the cross. The clear proclamation of the gospel does not make us look good. It doesn’t make us popular.
“Peer Pressure” and the Praise of God
The praise of others—that wisp of a breeze that lasts for a moment—can seem more glorious to us than the praise of God. Jesus himself told the Jewish leaders, “How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?” ( John 5:44).
Today we might call the Pharisees people pleasers. We would say they “struggled with peer pressure.” Since all of us are affected by it at one time or another, we are almost sympathetic toward such behavior. But people pleasing is perhaps the most tragic form of the fear of man. Teenagers constantly make unwise decisions because of it. Adults, too, look to other people for their cues. We wait for others to take initiatives of love. We spend too much time wondering what others may have thought about our outfits or the comments we made in the small-group meeting. We see opportunities to testify about Christ, but we avoid them. We are ruled by our own reputations. As we follow these Old Testament stories, the problem feels as though it is other people, but, in truth, the problem lies within us.
Jesus stood in stark contrast to this Pharisaic concern. He did not show favoritism; instead, he reached out to male and female, rich and poor, and people of all races and ages. He did not take a poll of what was popular before he began to teach; instead, he spoke truth that was often unpopular but could penetrate the heart. “I do not receive glory from people,” he said ( John 5:41). Even his opponents could see this: “Teacher, we know that you are true and teach the way of God truthfully, and you do not care about anyone’s opinion, for you are not swayed by appearances” (Matt. 22:16). Of course, their remarks were a form of flattery by which they hoped to trap Jesus, but they were true remarks nonetheless. Jesus’s imperviousness to the opinions of others was part of his teaching with authority, and it was one of the features that distinguished his ministry from that of all the other Jewish leaders.
This attitude also characterized the ministry of the apostle Paul. He exhorted his churches to be imitators of him as he was an imitator of Christ (1 Cor. 4:16; 1 Thess. 1:6). By this, he was encouraging his disciples to imitate his life and doctrine, an imitation that included seeking the praise of God rather than men (1 Thess. 2:4). Paul was not a people pleaser. He was a people lover, and because of that he did not change his message according to what others might think. Only people lovers are able to confront. Only people lovers are not controlled by other people. Paul even indicated to the Galatians that if he were still trying to please man, he would not be a servant of God (Gal. 1:10). That is how seriously he took the fear of man.
Not that this came naturally. Paul had the same fleshly instincts we do, and he knew it. As a result, he beseeched the churches to pray for him: “[Make supplication] also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel . . . that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak” (Eph. 6:19–20).
Excerpt taken from Chapter 2: “People Will Reject Me”, When People Are Big and God Is Small: Overcoming Peer Pressure, Codependency, and the Fear of Man by Edward T. Welch. Used with permission
Related Posts: