What do we do when a pastor falls?

September 20, 2024

Pastors aren’t exempt from the same temptations we all face. If anything, they’re prime targets. The enemy knows a well-aimed shot at a pastor can scatter the sheep quickly.

It’s always the ones you least suspect—the ones who preach with the power and conviction of Charles Spurgeon and counsel with the gentleness of Mr. Rogers. They are trusted shepherds, solid in doctrine, with sermons that make you scribble notes like a college freshman in his first theology class.

Then, one day, the news drops—a whispered affair, a a drunk driving charge, money missing from the building fund. The fallout is as predictable as it is heartbreaking—shock, denial, gossip (which we pretend is prayerful concern), and eventually, the resignation letter read through tears.

If you’ve been in the church long enough, you’ve seen it happen to someone, somewhere. Maybe you were the one left holding your Bible, staring at the pulpit, wondering how you missed the red flags. It’s not like he was spouting heresy. No, this was a guy who knew his stuff. He loved the Puritans and could quote Romans as though he wrote it himself. And yet, he fell. And we’re left picking up the pieces, trying to reconcile the gifted teacher who led us to Christ with the man who now needs as much grace as the rest of us.

Scripture is no stranger to fallen leaders. David, the man after God’s own heart, took a detour through adultery and murder like it was an afternoon stroll on the palace roof. Peter, the rock who boldly confessed Jesus is the Messiah, adamantly denied knowing him at the first hint of pressure. The Bible doesn’t airbrush its heroes. It gives us the complete, often unflattering picture. Even the best among us have cracks wide enough to let sin seep through.

Pastors aren’t exempt from the same temptations we all face. If anything, they’re prime targets. They’re the ones on the front lines, delivering truth in a world that’s hostile toward it. They’re leading the charge against the gates of hell, and the enemy knows a well-aimed shot at a pastor can scatter the sheep quickly. James wasn’t kidding when he wrote, “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness” (Jas 3:1). The stakes are high.

So what do we do when a trusted pastor falls? For starters, we grieve. It’s okay to feel betrayed, confused, or just plain sad. But we don’t stay there. We remember that our hope was never in the man behind the pulpit but in the Christ he preached. The best pastors are still sinners saved by grace, prone to wander like the rest of us. Their fall doesn’t negate the truth of the gospel.

We pray for repentance, for genuine, tear-streaked contrition that seeks forgiveness not for damage control but because sin is an affront to a holy God. We pray for healing for the wounded families and church members who feel lost and disillusioned. We pray for ourselves that we won’t become smug, thinking we could never fall the same way. “Let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall” (1Co 10:12). We’re all just one poor decision away from making headlines ourselves.

Lastly, we hold fast to Christ, who never falls, never fails, and never leaves us wondering where we stand. Pastors may come and go, some leaving legacies of faithfulness and others leaving wreckage in their wake. But Jesus remains the same, yesterday, today, and forever (Heb 13:8). He’s the anchor when everything else is adrift.

So, we press on, praying for our leaders, loving fellow believers, and clinging to the cross. It’s never been about how well we or our pastors hold onto God. It’s about how firmly he holds onto us.

What do we do when a pastor falls?

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