Resisting Unhealthy Adoration from Those We Lead

Do you remember the Rajneesh cult that came from India to the United States?  I saw communities of this cult for the first time when I visited India in the early '80s. I could hardly stand  the sight of their orgies, filled as they were with an incredible display of opulence and unbridled sexual activity. Followers dressed in various shades of red treated their leader like a god. I wondered what kind of twisted thinking allowed a man to receive such worship, such accolades.  One day the newspapers announced that the Rajneesh cult was setting up shop in eastern Oregon. The cult members had chosen this site as their base of operations for impacting North America. Because of my experience in India, I felt apprehensive about the results of their presence in our state. I asked a lawyer friend to drive with me to the community where they were setting up shop, so we could see for ourselves.

As we drove down the gravel road toward the commune, posted guards made sure we knew that we were being watched. The enormous number of persons dressed in red clothing made the scene surreal. As we drove through the area, the cult members went about business as though we did not exist. No one spoke. No one asked our names. No one inquired about what brought us to the community. We did not exist as far as they were concerned.

Soon the whole scene changed. As if responding to some secret signal, everyone moved to the roadside. As the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh passed by, his devotees worshiped him, as they did every afternoon when he was driven down this road in one of his hundred-plus Rolls Royces. I watched the crowds as they shouted, waved and bowed in his honor; and I thought about Jesus arriving in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.

The cult followers showered their leader with flowers. They cheered as if they were in the presence of royalty. The Bhagwan had such a regal self-image that he didn't even get out of the car. From his backseat, he simply waved to his subjects. Then the parade ended; the Rolls picked up speed and drove away. Worshipers were left to rejoice over their short glimpse of their glorious leader. Under God's intervention, the civil authorities in Oregon concluded that the Bhagwan was unethical and that his past was tainted. As his shady financial dealings were untangled, his house of cards  collapsed. He was banned from the entire state of Oregon and his followers left. Later he died, a faded image of what he had been.

As I think about the Bhagwan, I am reminded how easy it is for pastors to develop an inflated view of themselves and their work. The apostle Paul warns, "Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you" (Rom. 12:3). Though we pastors have high visibility, we must resist cravings for royalty. The moment we think of ourselves too highly, we start a treacherous slide into pride. Then, being treated like a monarch becomes more important than ministry, and status more important than service.

Sometimes our views of ourselves fool us. I overheard a mature layperson say, "Our young pastor would vehemently deny wanting to be treated like a king, but he never stops anyone who does it." And one national leader, puzzled by today's Church, told me, "It no longer seems enough for ministers to be anointed; now they want to be royalty." I pray that these two comments reflect rare exceptions. Unfortunately, in some groups of pastors, I see far too many issues that seem to validate such judgments.

The temptation to idolize Christian leaders has been around since New Testament times. Paul and Barnabas were received warmly when they arrived at Lystra (see Acts 14:8-18). They experienced wonderful acceptance and great success. Through their ministry, God healed a cripple who had never walked. In the excitement, the crowd began to think these missionaries were gods. They decided to call robust Barnabas, Zeus, the Greek god of the pantheon, the ruler of the heavens and the father of other gods. They thought Paul, because of his convincing speaking ability, must be Hermes, the Greek god of eloquent rhetoric.

When people threw themselves at the apostles' feet to worship them as gods, these New Testament preachers were horrified. "Get on your feet!" they exclaimed. "We are only men like you." Paul did not enjoy that kind of praise. Instead, he used their false assumptions to teach them that the apostles had come to introduce them to the living God. As people in many other settings have done since, these hearers tried to fit the message of Christ into their cultural patterns. As a result, they never fully heard the true Gospel.

If we allow our hearers to worship us, we do them a great disservice. They will end up worshiping the messenger instead of the One who sent us, and they will never feel obliged to apply Christ's message to their lives. The best thing a pastor can do to avoid falling into this trap is to cultivate an attitude of humility. Only insofar as God works through us can we truly bless those around us. In a contemporary thought pattern,Eugene H. Peterson paraphrases the words of Paul and Barnabas:

"We're not gods! We are men just like you, and we're here to bring you the Message, to persuade you to abandon these silly god-superstitions and embrace God himself, the living God.We don't make God; he makes us, and all of this-sky, earth, sea, and everything in them" (Acts 14:15, THE MESSAGE).

Perhaps there is an important lesson for us from the short life of the hero worship in this passage. Soon after Paul and Barnabas made this speech forbidding their followers to worship them, Jews came from Antioch and Iconium, won the crowd over and stoned the preachers. They even dragged poor Paul out of the city, thinking he was dead. The next day Paul and Barnabas left for Derbe. Hero worship soon brought them a stoning.

How does all of this relate to today's pastors? I worry a lot about ministers who so hunger for prominence that they will do almost anything to get it. In fact, some pastors believe they have rights to special treatment because of their assignments or their success. We would do well to follow Paul and Barnabas's example and to hold lightly to those moments of man-made victory and recognition.

Let's understand the essential foundations of ministry. In the final analysis, pastors have no rights. Our future is in God's hands-a good place to be. Everything we have is a gift from God. We owe him grateful thanks for the blessings, mercies and potentialities he places in our hands. And we are more likely to find balance in ministry when we admit to God that the great opportunity he has given us calls for our best effort and our greatest commitment.

An addictive craving for ministerial royalty gives the Church a bad case of "heart" trouble. I am always disappointed when a pastor expects favored status. I feel alarmed when ministers manipulate perks, raises and status at the expense of sacrificial giving of "little people". It worries me when ministry colleagues appear more concerned about the size of their home or the model of their car than about seeing themselves as missionaries in a pagan world. "Superstar" and "pastor" are words that don't fit in the same sentence. Nor can they coexist in the heart of an undershepherd of Christ.

Let's face facts. Many pastors experience upward social mobility because of ministry perks. There is nothing wrong with living well when congregations are able to support us generously.  We should be worthy of our hire. But their generous care doesn't mean that we have a right to it or that we should be greedy for more. If we allow houses, cars and status to become more important to us than the salvation of the lost—more important to us than the care of our Lord's bewildered sheep, then our priorities need serious adjustment.

Colleagues in ministry, I say this to you as I say it to myself: You have been providentially placed in a pagan world to serve as missionaries for Christ. The moment we see ourselves as anything but missionaries to this culture, we become driven by paychecks and status. So many high-profile colleagues have fallen from grace in full view of the Church and the watching world. Often these pastors became so used to superstar status that they will not settle for less.

The call of God on your life makes you a child of the King.  Rejoice in that reality. As sons and daughters of God, we enjoy miraculous benefits and amazing assignments, but we are not the King. And we will never be the King. The King—almighty God—trusts us with a portion of his Church. We preach from the King's pulpit. We work in the King's office. We represent the King many times every day. We serve the King's people. We speak for the King. We oversee the King's Church. We care for the King's flocks. But we are not the King. Thus we possess no right to set ourselves up as someone to be exalted or pampered. We have been given great opportunities to represent our King. Let's do it with the anointing. Turn the applause his way. Give him the glory.

If you sometimes have a craving for royalty, what are the remedies?  Evaluate your desire for prominence. God's verdict on power abusers is tough. He refuses to keep company with those who practice expediency and moral shortcuts. But takes joy in empowering the weak, energizing the weary and enriching the humble. Take on the spirit of a servant. A pastor in our town was afraid he was losing the servant's touch, so he volunteered to serve a half day per week in a shelter for homeless people. He refused to give the director his full name. He said he wanted to be sure he was a true servant. I imagine his sermons were full of grace every Sunday after serving at the shelter, don't you?

Take a walk around the church. Look at the pulpit.Thank the Lord for letting you use it. Do the same with your study, your car, your books and your privileges or perks that come with your ministry. Get out the membership list of your church and thank God for each person he allows you to serve in his name. Clarify your perspective on anointing and royalty. God promises to anoint the preacher, not because he has to do it, but because he wants our ministry to be effective. The anointing is a holy, supernatural gift, given to be useful, not to be put on display. The anointing turns the human preaching effort into a love gift to Christ. On the other hand, those who seek royalty believe they have rights and that somebody owes them something. I recently heard a Christian worker remark, "We have paid our dues and the church owes us something for all our years of service." I wonder where that false notion started. I don't think the rumor began at the foot of the Cross.

If you seek royalty, you will discover, like any addict, only an unquenchable thirst for more privileges and honors. But if you seek anointing, you will find that your thirst for power will be replaced by a thirst for God. Both you and your church will be refreshed.

H.B. London Jr. is vice president of Ministry Outreach/Pastoral Ministries for Focus on the Family. A fourth-generation minister, Rev. London was born in Little Rock, Arkansas. He is a graduate of Pasadena College (now Point Loma Nazarene University) and was ordained on May 24, 1962. On June 10, 1990, Point Loma Nazarene University conferred on H.B. the Doctor of Divinity degree.