The news about Steve Lawson hit hard. It’s not that Steve and I have ever been particularly close. In fact, I can’t think of a time he and I interacted outside the context of a conference. But he has been a steady presence at events for as long as I have been attending them. I don’t know how many times he and I were on the same list of speakers, but I would guess at least a dozen. Many times I benefited from his teaching, preaching, and writing. Always I was glad to learn that he and I would be in the same place at the same time.
For those reasons, it was shocking to learn that his elders had determined he is no longer qualified to be a pastor and his ministry board that he is no longer qualified to be a teacher and preacher. When I heard the news I couldn’t quite believe it and hoped for a time that it would be shown to be false or proven to be an overreaction. Alas, it was not to be. I was grieved to learn he had committed the kind of actions that harm relationships, shame family, and bring reproach on the church. On a more personal level, I was alarmed to see that a man can proceed so far in life and ministry and still grow careless, or entitled, or whatever combination of factors led first to desires, then to actions, and then to consequences.
I think I sometimes believe that it is the purview of young men to fight the hardest fights and battle the deadliest enemies, the task of middle-aged men to mop up the last pockets of resistance, and the privilege of older men to enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of obedience. That seems fair to me, that God would reward diligence in the early and middle years with ease in the later years.
I know better, of course, because I have read enough books by elderly saints to know that even the godliest among them must not yet coast and cannot yet rest from his labors. But perhaps I thought the sins of the later years would be more like foibles, that they would be the kind of embarrassing but understandable stumbles of the elderly. Maybe I thought the sins of old men were jokes that may no longer be deemed appropriate or the refusal to let go of leadership roles they have held for too long. Maybe I thought their temptations were a bit of obstinacy or a stubborn fixation on the old ways of doing things.
But now I know that the sins of the elderly can be the sins of youth, that the factors that commonly disqualify men at the beginning of a life can disqualify them near the end. It startles me. It scares me. It discourages me. Maybe it even makes me waver in my confidence that any of us can make it safely over the finish line—safely and without disgracing ourselves and, even worse, bringing reproach on our families, our churches, and our God.
I know that the sins of the elderly can be the sins of youth, that the factors that commonly disqualify men at the beginning of a life can disqualify them near the end.Share
I was in a small town in Romania last week to speak at a youth event. I was blessed to see hundreds of teens and young adults singing God’s praises, praying together, and eagerly listening to the Word. It seemed to be as far removed from North America as it could be. Yet even there young men came up to me to express their sorrow at the situation, to tell about their confusion at the downfall of a man they had so much admired, and to ask what could possibly have led him to do something so wrong. I had no answers for them but understood it as evidence of how wide the ripples extend when a man builds a ministry and then destroys it, when he gains a reputation and then shatters it. It was after speaking to these young men that I began to write down some thoughts about it all.
Yet despite all the sadness, I do see a few reasons to be hopeful.
First, I know it can seem at times like there is an epidemic of Christian leaders committing acts of immorality and destroying their ministries, but it is important to remember that there are far more who remain faithful to the end. In fact, part of what makes a situation like this so shocking is its rarity. I could name 100 pastors who ended their ministry well for every one I could name who did not.
Second, I was heartened to see the local church seemingly respond decisively and appropriately with conferences and para-church ministries alike following its lead. This is the way it should be, but rarely the way it actually is. I also appreciate that the local church was measured and discrete in the information it shared. I have a lot of sympathy and respect for the elders who had to attempt to say enough but not too much, to express the guilt of the one who committed the sin but perhaps also to protect those who were innocent or otherwise deserving of privacy.
Third, I was encouraged to hear other Christians expressing their determination to avoid such scandals in their own lives. This determination is not mere grit or legalistic tenacity, but a deeper dependence upon God and a deeper commitment to his means of grace. Many men and women alike have been reminded that sin and temptation will remain deadly foes until we are with Christ in glory. Over the past few days the words of “For All the Saints” have been often in my mind, including the ones that open it: “For all the saints who from their labors rest.” There will come a day when we rest from all of our labors and are declared saints triumphant. But until then, we are saints militant, battling deadly foes moment by moment and day by day all the way to heaven.
I hope and pray there are encouraging updates still to come—a local church that has been faithful in difficulty, a man who has received the Lord’s loving chastisement, a wider church that has faithfully interceded and pleaded for God’s mercy and, of course, forgiveness and healing for all harmed. Added to my prayers for all involved is that God will use this sad situation in the lives of many people to motivate them to pursue God more earnestly, to lay their sins and temptations before him more humbly, and to apply his promises more completely. May God grant this grace.

I once heard of a ship that was crossing the Atlantic from Europe to South America, and as it neared the end of its crossing, it escaped a close call that would have sent it to the depths and would have taken the lives of many of its passengers.
After departing Dover, the ship had cruised for many days without incident and without mishap. In fact, the crossing had been so smooth and so unremarkable that the crew began to grow lax in their duties. As the ship drew close to the South American coast, the man on lookout nodded off, and as he slept his ship began to approach a particularly rocky and ruinous spot.
But as it happened, there was a cricket aboard that ship. Until that point in the journey, no one had noticed its presence, but as the ship drew close to land, the cricket somehow smelled it or sensed it, and set up a shrill call. The lookout awoke, understood that land was quickly approaching, and stopped the vessel before it blundered into the rocks and was lost.
In this case, something as insignificant as the chirping of a cricket saved many lives. And I sometimes wonder what you and I may accomplish with what seems to be the simplest and least significant of sounds. I wonder what heaven will someday reveal—what we will hear in the soundtrack of heaven.
Maybe the scratching of a pen on a notecard will prove to be the means God used to encourage one of his downcast people and strengthen them for another day of love and service.
Maybe the tapping of a keyboard that sounds the writing of an article or email will be shown to have introduced a skeptic to the gospel and won a sinner to salvation.
Maybe the clank of a spoon stirring a pot will eventually be seen to have been used to feed one of God’s “angels unaware”—to have displayed a distinctly Christian commitment to love and hospitality.
God is the master of transforming the ordinary to the extraordinary, the mundane to the miraculous.Share
Maybe it’s the click of knitting needles as they create a sweater to clothe one who is cold, the crunch of footsteps in the snow as they approach a home for a time of prayer, the sound of a sob as one Christian weeps with another, sharing a heavy burden and so fulfilling the law of Christ. Maybe it’s even the sound of a bell ringing from a church steeple and calling people to turn to Christ that day, that hour, that minute.
God is the master of transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary, the mundane into the miraculous. God is the master of accepting little and multiplying it to much. God is the master of taking our little contributions and making them the great means through which he blesses his people and brings glory to his name. And I am convinced we will one day learn that the soundtrack of heaven is made up of the simplest of sounds that God has joined together into the most stirring of symphonies.

Sundays are for devotion, and this brief devotional celebrates God as the One who reaches out to us.
There are no truly innocent human beings. Each of us has willfully rebelled against God, but even if we hadn’t, we would still be tainted by the sin of Adam, for “by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners” (Romans 5:19).
In Paul’s great letter to the church in Rome, he explains that in our sinful state, we actively suppress any knowledge of God, even denying the undeniable reality of his power and presence in creation. Our thinking about God and the state of our own souls becomes futile, our hearts become darkened, and we behave like fools— for “the fool says in his heart, There is no God’” (Psalm 14:1).
Yet the Bible assures us that we can have a genuine relationship with God. How can that be? It is possible only because God has taken the initiative. When we could not and would not reach out to him, he has reached out to us. “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly… God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:6,8). That’s the kind of God we serve—the God who reaches out!