I know this isn’t a new conversation. It’s been discussed coast to coast, in countless podcasts and articles. But I think it’s worth saying again—especially for those of us who grew up in the church and have seen both sides up close.
There’s a difference between good pastors and bad ones. Between shepherds who care for people and leaders who use faith as a tool to control, manipulate, or enrich themselves.
The hard truth is this: some of the worst damage done in the name of Christ has been done by people with microphones and pulpits.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s a megachurch with a massive budget or a tiny congregation with twenty folding chairs—this sickness can grow anywhere.
I’ve watched it happen over and over:
- Leaders who turn Christ’s message into an endless sin-management quest, where you’re never quite clean enough, never quite obedient enough, never quite forgiven.
- Preachers who measure success by tithes and attendance, not by how well they care for the people entrusted to them.
- Ministries that build platforms instead of communities.
- Teachers who trade the Gospel for personal power—who love being revered more than they love serving.
These are the modern-day Pharisees. The ones who load people up with burdens they never lift a finger to help carry. The ones who make a show of their righteousness while ignoring the suffering right in front of them.
And it makes me angry. Because I know—I have seen—what real spiritual leadership can look like.
I have seen pastors who quietly show up at hospital bedsides in the middle of the night.
Pastors who spend their weekends delivering groceries to families in crisis.
Pastors who don’t care if you have the right clothes or the right words or the right beliefs yet—they just care that you know you matter.
Pastors who give away their own resources before they ever ask anyone else to give.
These are the shepherds. The ones who see ministry not as a platform but as a calling to walk alongside people in their mess, their grief, their humanity.
It’s not that they’re perfect. No one is. But their first instinct isn’t to build an empire or protect their reputation—it’s to love.
I think a lot of people leave the church because they’ve only known the Pharisees. They’ve never been pastored by someone who actually reflects the heart of Jesus.
I don’t blame them. I’ve almost walked away myself.
If you’ve been hurt by bad shepherds, you deserve to know that’s not what faith has to be.
You don’t have to settle for leaders who make you feel small or scared or unworthy.
You don’t have to tolerate manipulation disguised as “truth.”
And if you’re a leader reading this, I hope you’ll ask yourself honestly:
- Do I love the people more than I love my position?
- Would I still do this if no one ever saw me or thanked me?
- Have I confused building a platform with fulfilling my calling?
It shouldn’t be this hard for good shepherds to care for people, and yet it is. The ones who are genuine often have to fight tooth and nail just to help a single person, while the charlatans rake in applause and money.
I wish I could say I have the solution. I don’t. But maybe it starts with refusing to stay silent. Maybe it starts with naming what is unhealthy and lifting up the quiet, faithful shepherds who don’t make headlines but are actually doing the work.
If that makes me unpopular, so be it. I’d rather be honest.
And maybe—just maybe—we need to return to the words of Jesus Himself:
"The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."
(Matthew 23:11-12)
That's it. That's the measure. Not the building. Not the budget. Not the brand.
Just the humility to serve. And the courage to love.
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