When a Nation Cheers a Murder: How The Erosion of the Imago Dei Undermines Justice and Dignity

When a Nation Cheers a Murder: How The Erosion of the Imago Dei Undermines Justice and Dignity

In the wake of Charlie Kirk's assassination on September 10, 2025, America confronted a reality more chilling than the violent act itself: the public celebration of his death across social media platforms. This dark spectacle revealed how far our society has drifted from God's foundational command to Noah after the flood—the first explicit moral law given to humanity. Long before the Ten Commandments at Sinai, God declared, "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image" (Genesis 9:6, ESV). Our collective failure to honor this sacred principle has led us to a moment where murder can be met with applause rather than grief.

What follows are seven biblically grounded takeaways—that I trust will help us understand how the erosion of respect for the imago Dei has brought us to this moral precipice and how the gospel offers both judgment and hope for renewal.

1. The First Commandment After the Flood Protected the Imago Dei

Genesis 9:6 stands as humanity's original foundation for justice, establishing that human life possesses unique and inviolable worth precisely because each person reflects the Creator's own glory. This commandment preceded Israel by centuries and transcends cultural boundaries—it is God's universal mandate to all humanity. Unlike animals, which could be killed for food, humans bear the divine image and therefore demand ultimate protection under the law.

The theological weight of this principle cannot be overstated. As one scholar explains, "In Genesis 9:6 there is a purpose clause that begins with ('for') explaining why we ought not to murder: '*for* in the image of God has God made mankind.' The rationale for not murdering is the image of God." This makes every act of murder not merely a crime against humanity but an assault on the very character of God, whose image the victim bears.

John Calvin understood this profound truth with remarkable clarity: "For God so regards man's person that He will have His image, as it were, engraved upon him; and though it has been obliterated by sin, yet it still shines forth so brightly that it attracts the eyes and the regard of God." Even in our fallenness, the imago Dei remains the unshakeable foundation for human dignity and the reason murder deserves the severest earthly penalty. Calvin further connected this to the enormity of murder itself: "The crime of murder owes its enormity to the fact that it is an attack on the image of God."

The Belgic Confession reinforces this understanding in Article XIV, declaring that God "created man out of the dust of the earth and made and formed him after his own image and likeness, good, righteous, and holy, capable in all things to will agreeably to the will of God." This confession emphasizes that bearing God's image means possessing "a nature that enabled him to think, and to will, and thus to have the capacity to receive the image of God."

The Westminster Confession of Faith affirms that civil authorities exist precisely to uphold this sacred truth: "God, the supreme Lord and King of all the world, hath ordained civil magistrates... armed them with the power of the sword, for the defense and encouragement of them that are good, and for the punishment of evildoers." This divine mandate is not optional—it is the cornerstone of just governance. When society fails to protect life and pursue proportional justice for murder, it signals a fundamental rejection of God's authority and design.

The Puritan commentator David Dickson, writing the first published commentary on the Westminster Confession, emphasized that magistrates who fail to inflict due punishment will find that "the Lord himself will be avenged on that Magistrate". The civil authority's duty to punish murder with death flows directly from Genesis 9:6 and reflects not a low view of human life, but the highest possible view—one that declares human life so sacred that those who destroy it forfeit their own right to life.

2. When Justice Fails, Society's Moral Fabric Unravels

Scripture warns that neglecting justice doesn't merely embolden criminals—it systematically corrupts the entire social order. "Justice is turned back, and righteousness stands far away; for truth has stumbled in the public squares, and uprightness cannot enter" (Isaiah 59:14, ESV). The prophet's diagnosis applies perfectly to our moment: when murder goes unpunished or is treated leniently, it signals that human life is negotiable.

This erosion manifests in predictable patterns across multiple spheres of society. In the legal realm, we see rising urban violence where murders go unsolved, creating cycles of vengeance and vigilante justice. The normalization of abortion represents perhaps the most systematic assault on the imago Dei, where the most vulnerable image-bearers are denied protection under the pretense of personal autonomy. Government-sanctioned violence in various forms treats people as commodities rather than as beings made in God's image. Media desensitization to violence trivializes human suffering and makes audiences immune to the horror that should accompany the destruction of God's image-bearers.

The Westminster divines understood this comprehensive corruption. When they met on September 10, 1644, to investigate sins provoking God's wrath, they identified Parliament's failure to actively suppress blasphemy and immorality as contributing to the nation's spiritual decay. They recognized that when civil authorities fail to protect both tables of the law, society experiences moral collapse at every level.

John Calvin warned of this inevitable progression: "When God's image in man is violated, all order is confounded. For if we begin to look upon men as less than bearers of God's image, cruelty and barbarity will soon follow." This prophecy has been fulfilled throughout history—from the Holocaust to Rwanda, from the killing fields of Cambodia to the abortion mills of America. Each represents a failure to honor the divine image in vulnerable people.

Charlie Kirk's assassination occurred in precisely this climate where political violence has become increasingly normalized. The celebration of his death by some reveals how deeply this moral rot has penetrated our institutions. As one social media analyst observed, "Social media reacted to Charlie Kirk's assassination the way social media reacts to everything: over the top, loudly, and representing a minority of how people think," yet this minority exercises disproportionate influence in shaping cultural attitudes toward violence.

The erosion is systematic and interconnected. When civil authorities refuse to execute justice for murder, they effectively declare that innocent life is worth less than guilty life. This inversion of justice permeates every level of society, creating what Isaiah described as a world where "justice is turned back" and "righteousness stands far away."

3. Celebrating Death Represents the Loudest Denial of the Imago Dei

Perhaps nothing exposes our spiritual condition more clearly than the fact that people openly celebrated Kirk's murder on social media platforms. This represents more than mere political polarization—it embodies active rebellion against the fundamental principle of human dignity. Scripture explicitly forbids gloating over an enemy's fall: "Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles" (Proverbs 24:17, ESV). To celebrate a murder is to conduct a liturgy of anti-dignity, catechizing hearts to prize ideological victory over the sacred worth of persons.

The scale and nature of these celebrations reveal unprecedented moral decay. On Bluesky, a left-wing social media platform, users made such gleeful remarks about Kirk's death that moderators had to use enforcement tools to remove posts celebrating the killing. One user wrote, "I'm very happy today," while another posted survival comparisons, saying, "We all outlived Charlie Kirk," accompanied by happy face emojis. Multiple teachers were investigated for inappropriate comments about the assassination, and numerous workers were fired for celebrating Kirk's death online.

Such celebration reveals profound spiritual numbness. Ezekiel 18:32 declares that God "has no pleasure in the death of anyone," making public glee at an image-bearer's death a direct contradiction of divine compassion. The fact that these celebrations occurred immediately after Kirk's death—before any investigation into motives or circumstances—demonstrates how thoroughly political ideology has displaced basic human decency.

Research into online behavior helps explain this phenomenon. Studies show that "content that triggers outrage and that expresses outrage is much more likely to be shared," creating "an ecosystem that selects for the most outrageous content, paired with a platform where it's easier than ever before to express outrage." The platforms algorithmically reward extreme reactions, including celebrations of death, because such content generates engagement.

The Heidelberg Catechism's exposition of the sixth commandment provides the proper alternative. It teaches that we must "not belittle, insult, hate, or kill my neighbor—not by my thoughts, my words, my look, or gesture, and certainly not by actual deeds... Rather, I am to put away all desire for revenge." Yet we live in a culture that has systematically violated every aspect of this calling, creating digital spaces where celebrating murder becomes not only acceptable but also rewarded.

This represents more than social media toxicity—it reveals hearts that have been systematically formed to despise the imago Dei. When celebration of death becomes a public spectacle, society has crossed a line from which recovery becomes extraordinarily difficult. The applause for Kirk's murder signals that we have reached what one researcher called a "watershed moment" where "ordinary people, just like you and me, can engage in such antisocial behavior." For a specific period of time, you can actually become a troll."

The celebration also demonstrates how political ideology has become a form of idolatry that permits—even demands—the sacrifice of human life on its altar. When political agreement becomes the measure of human worth, we have effectively abandoned the principle that every person bears God's image regardless of their political views.

4. The Magistrate Bears the Sword as God's Servant

Romans 13:3-4 presents civil authority as "God's servant for your good... an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer." This establishes that retributive justice in the civil sphere is delegated, principled, and protective—not vengeful but necessary for maintaining order and defending the innocent. The Westminster Confession emphasizes that magistrates are ordained "for His own glory, and the public good... for the defense and encouragement of them that are good, and for the punishment of evildoers."

The original Westminster standards placed significant responsibility on civil magistrates to protect both tables of the law. According to the 1646 version, the magistrate "hath authority, and it is his duty, to take order, that unity and peace be preserved in the Church, that the truth of God be kept pure and entire, that all blasphemies and heresies be suppressed, that all corruptions and abuses in worship and discipline be prevented or reformed, and that all the ordinances of God be duly settled, administered, and observed." The Westminster Larger Catechism (191) specifically states that the church should be "countenanced and maintained by the civil magistrate."

Historical Reformed teaching consistently held that capital punishment was not only permitted but required for premeditated murder. David Dickson, in his commentary on the Westminster Confession, asked whether "it is not the duty of the civil magistrate to punish the guilty with death?" His answer was unequivocally "Yes," supported by multiple biblical arguments, including that "he that smiteth a Man so that he die, shall surely be put to Death" (Exodus 21:12) and that if "the Magistrate shall neglect to inflict due Punishment, the Lord himself will be avenged on that magistrate."

The Leiden Synopsis, an influential Reformed theological work from 1624, argued that the duties of the civil magistrate included making sure "the civil laws are in agreement with the law of nature and with the recorded moral law" and that the magistrate should "establish and keep pure the worship of God in his region, reform what has become corrupt in the church, and 'as far as he is able' go against heterodox teachers." The magistrate was lauded as nothing less than the "guardian and avenger of both tables of the Law".

This theological framework provides crucial perspective on our current crisis. Our abandonment of capital punishment represents more than policy disagreement—it embodies a practical denial of the imago Dei. By allowing murderers to live while their victims cannot, we make a statement about the relative value of innocent versus guilty life that contradicts God's own assessment. As R.C. Sproul argued, capital punishment reflects a high view of life, not a low one, because it declares that human life is so sacred that those who destroy it forfeit their own right to life.

The Reformed tradition understood that when magistrates fail to execute justice for murder, they abdicate their God-given responsibility and invite divine judgment upon the nation. This principle applies not only to individual cases but also to systemic failures of justice. When society systematically fails to protect the innocent and punish the guilty proportionately, it signals a fundamental rejection of divine authority and natural law.

Contemporary Reformed theologians continue to affirm these principles. One notes that "justice and mercy meet perfectly at the cross," but this does not eliminate the magistrate's duty to execute temporal justice: "In the death of Christ, we see a more illustrious display of divine justice and mercy than if God had destroyed all mankind... At the cross, mercy and truth meet together, righteousness and peace kiss each other." The atonement provides eternal salvation, but it does not absolve earthly authorities of their duty to maintain temporal justice.

5. Historical Patterns Reveal the Consequences of Ignoring Life's Sanctity

History bears tragic witness to what happens when societies abandon the principle of Genesis 9:6. The patterns are consistent across cultures and centuries, revealing the universal applicability of God's moral law and the predictable consequences of ignoring it. Ancient Israel's cycles of violence and injustice led to national ruin and exile, exactly as the prophets warned would happen when justice was perverted (Isaiah 1:15-17).

The twentieth century provided the most horrific illustrations of what occurs when the imago Dei is systematically denied. The Holocaust represented the logical endpoint of a worldview that categorized humans based on ideological or racial criteria rather than their common bearing of God's image. Rwanda's genocide demonstrated how quickly neighbors could turn against neighbors when dehumanization becomes socially acceptable. The killing fields of Cambodia, the gulags of Stalin's Russia, and the cultural revolution in China all followed similar patterns: first, certain groups were designated as less than fully human; then, violence against them became not only permissible but praiseworthy.

These historical examples illuminate troubling parallels in contemporary America. The normalization of abortion has created a society comfortable with categorizing humans based on developmental stage, size, or dependency. The celebration of Kirk's assassination reveals how political ideology now serves a similar dehumanizing function—opponents are no longer seen as fellow image-bearers but as enemies whose destruction can be celebrated.

Contemporary examples of this erosion abound in less dramatic but equally telling ways. Cities plagued by unsolved murders breed despair and vigilantism, as citizens lose faith in institutional justice. Debates over euthanasia reduce life to "quality" metrics, effectively arguing that some image-bearers are worth less than others based on their physical or mental condition. Human trafficking treats people as commodities to be bought and sold. Media glamorization of violence systematically desensitizes consciences to the horror that should accompany the destruction of human life.

Social media has accelerated these patterns by creating what researchers describe as "an ecosystem that selects for the most outrageous content." Platforms algorithmically reward extreme reactions, including dehumanizing rhetoric and celebrations of violence. As one study noted, "Messages with both moral and emotional words are more likely to spread on social media—each moral or emotional word in a tweet increases the likelihood of it being retweeted by 20%." This creates a feedback loop where increasingly extreme positions are rewarded with attention and validation.

The celebration of Kirk's death is not an isolated phenomenon—it represents the predictable endpoint of decades of erosion. Multiple teachers were fired for celebrating his assassination, workers lost jobs for inappropriate social media posts, and entire platforms had to implement emergency moderation measures to contain the celebration of murder. This reveals how thoroughly the devaluation of human life has penetrated our institutions.

Calvin warned of exactly this progression: "When God's image in man is violated, all order is confounded. For if we begin to look upon men as less than bearers of God's image, cruelty and barbarity will soon follow." The historical record confirms this warning with terrifying consistency. Societies that abandon respect for the imago Dei invariably descend into cycles of dehumanization and violence.

The pattern is always the same: first, certain categories of people are designated as less deserving of protection; then, violence against them is normalized; finally, the celebration of their destruction becomes socially acceptable or even praiseworthy. America has been following this trajectory for decades, and Kirk's assassination represents a significant milestone in this moral descent.

6. Justice and Mercy Meet Perfectly at the Cross

The gospel uniquely holds together what fallen humanity tends to separate: perfect justice and boundless mercy. "Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; steadfast love and faithfulness go before you" (Psalm 89:14, ESV). At Calvary, these divine attributes converge in perfect harmony: "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Corinthians 5:21, ESV).

John Calvin marveled at this mystery: "In the death of Christ, we see a more illustrious display of divine justice and mercy than if God had destroyed all mankind... At the cross, mercy and truth meet together, righteousness and peace kiss each other." The Westminster Confession affirms that Christ "fully satisfied the justice of His Father" and purchased reconciliation for His people. This atonement provides the theological framework for understanding how Christians should respond to acts of violence like Kirk's assassination.

The cross demonstrates that God's justice is not compromised by His mercy—rather, His mercy operates through the satisfaction of His justice. Christ bore the full penalty that sin deserved, making forgiveness possible without denying the seriousness of moral violations. This principle applies directly to how society should respond to murder. True mercy does not ignore justice but operates within a framework where justice has been appropriately addressed.

This has profound implications for both civil and personal responses to Kirk's murder. On the civil level, the cross does not eliminate the magistrate's duty to execute temporal justice. Romans 13 makes clear that civil authorities bear the sword as God's servants to punish evildoers, and this responsibility continues even after Christ's atoning work. The atonement provides eternal salvation for those who believe, but it does not absolve earthly authorities of their duty to maintain temporal justice and protect the innocent.

The Reformed tradition has consistently maintained this balance. The Westminster Larger Catechism teaches that the church should be "countenanced and maintained by the civil magistrate" precisely so that "the ordinances of Christ may be purely dispensed and made effectual to the converting of those that are yet in their sins and the confirming, comforting, and building up of those that are already converted." The magistrate's execution of justice creates conditions where the gospel can flourish.

On the personal level, the cross enables Christians to pursue justice without hatred while extending mercy even to those who celebrated Kirk's death. The gospel transforms bitterness into hope and teaches communities to seek accountability without vengeance. Christians can mourn Kirk's death, oppose the celebration of murder, and work for just consequences for Tyler Robinson (the alleged shooter) while simultaneously praying for his salvation and the repentance of those who applauded the killing.

This balance is crucial for avoiding two opposite errors. One error is a sentimental mercy that ignores justice, effectively making human life worthless by refusing to defend it appropriately. The other error is a vengeful justice that lacks compassion, treating perpetrators as irredeemable and celebrating their destruction. The cross provides the only foundation solid enough to avoid both extremes.

The Christian response to Kirk's assassination should therefore embody both justice and mercy. Justice demands that Robinson face appropriate consequences for his actions, that society condemn the celebration of murder, and that we work to build institutions that better protect human life. Mercy demands that we pray for Robinson's salvation, extend forgiveness to those who celebrated Kirk's death, and work toward the restoration of all involved.

This is not a compromise between justice and mercy but the full expression of both. As the Belgic Confession teaches, "Believers are called to imitate their heavenly Father, who is both just and merciful... we are to oppose injustice, but never without a heart for restoration." Only at the cross do we find a foundation sufficient for rebuilding a culture that has forgotten the sanctity of life. [5]

The gospel alone provides hope that individuals and societies can be transformed from celebrating death to cherishing life, from dehumanizing opponents to recognizing the divine image in every person. This transformation is the ultimate goal of Christian engagement with cultural and political issues—not merely winning policy battles but seeing hearts changed by the power of the cross.

7. Christians Are Called to Active Restoration of Human Dignity

The most challenging takeaway is also the most hopeful: upholding life's sanctity is not passive but demands active advocacy and comprehensive personal renewal. "Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy" (Proverbs 31:8-9, ESV). This calling becomes even more urgent in a society that celebrates murder and systematically devalues human life. [5]

This mandate requires multiple dimensions of faithful action that address both individual and systemic issues. Personal repentance must come first—Christians must examine their own hearts for indifference to violence, complicity in dehumanizing rhetoric, or failure to defend the vulnerable. The celebration of Kirk's death revealed how thoroughly our society has been catechized to view political opponents as less than fully human. Christians cannot exempt themselves from this cultural formation and must actively work to see the imago Dei in every person, including those with whom they fundamentally disagree.

Supporting organizations that protect the vulnerable at every stage of life represents concrete action in defense of human dignity. This includes crisis pregnancy centers, adoption agencies, ministries to the elderly and disabled, organizations combating human trafficking, and groups working for criminal justice reform. Each of these areas represents a sphere where the devaluation of human life is actively contested through practical service.

Promoting just policies that honor the imago Dei requires careful thought and sustained engagement. This includes supporting capital punishment for premeditated murder (as the biblical penalty that affirms life's sacred worth), opposing abortion (as the systematic killing of the most vulnerable image-bearers), reforming criminal justice systems to better protect victims while maintaining proportional punishment, addressing economic injustices that treat people as disposable, and working for media reforms that reduce the celebration and glamorization of violence.

Cultivating countercultural communities that model Christ-like dignity represents perhaps the most important long-term strategy. Christians must create spaces where human worth is not determined by political agreement, economic productivity, physical ability, or social status. Churches should be places where the imago Dei is celebrated in every person, where disagreement does not lead to dehumanization, and where mercy and justice are held in biblical balance.

Challenging cultural apathy wherever it appears requires both courage and wisdom. Christians must speak up when murder is celebrated, when violence is glorified, when vulnerable people are dehumanized, and when justice is perverted. This includes confronting the social media dynamics that reward extreme rhetoric and the celebration of death. As research shows, "most hateful posts were ignored or only shared within a small echo chamber of similar accounts," while "posts challenging anti-Semitic tweets are shared far more widely than the anti-Semitic tweets themselves." Christians can help amplify voices of sanity and human dignity while refusing to participate in the dehumanization of anyone. [38]

Persevering in prayer for hearts and laws to change acknowledges that this is ultimately a spiritual battle requiring divine intervention. The hearts that celebrated Kirk's death need supernatural transformation. The institutions that systematically devalue human life need divine reformation. The culture that treats murder as entertainment needs spiritual renewal that only God can provide.

Reformed thought has always emphasized that Christians bear responsibility not merely to avoid evil but to actively pursue good. The Westminster Confession teaches that believers are called to "good works" that "are the fruits and evidences of a true and lively faith" and that "by doing of them, believers manifest their thankfulness, strengthen their assurance, edify their brethren, adorn the profession of the gospel, stop the mouths of adversaries, and glorify God." Defending human dignity falls squarely within this calling.

The Belgic Confession emphasizes that this work of restoration is both individual and corporate: "Believers are called to imitate their heavenly Father, who is both just and merciful... we are to oppose injustice, but never without a heart for restoration." This means working for policy changes while ministering to individuals, confronting systemic problems while addressing personal needs, and pursuing justice while extending mercy.

This comprehensive approach recognizes that the devaluation of human life operates at every level of society and therefore requires responses at every level. Christians cannot content themselves with merely avoiding personal participation in celebrating violence—they must actively work to restore a culture of life. This includes everything from how they raise their children to how they vote, from the organizations they support to the media they consume, and from the conversations they have to the prayers they offer.

The stakes could not be higher. If Christians fail to actively defend and restore human dignity, society will continue its descent into celebrating death and dehumanizing opponents. The response to Kirk's assassination has shown how far this erosion has already progressed. Only sustained, comprehensive, gospel-centered action can reverse this trajectory and restore a culture where the imago Dei is honored in every person.

The Path Forward: Reclaiming the Image of God

Charlie Kirk's death need not be in vain if it awakens us to the profound spiritual crisis of our time. The young man who killed him, Tyler Robinson, represents countless others who have been formed by a culture that has forgotten the sacred worth of human life. The people who celebrated Kirk's death represent millions more who have been catechized by social media platforms to dehumanize their political opponents. The solution is not merely political or legislative—it is fundamentally spiritual.

We must return to the foundational truth that every human being—conservative or liberal, born or unborn, popular or despised, perpetrator or victim—bears the image of the living God and is therefore worthy of dignity, protection, and love. This truth must shape our laws, our institutions, our public discourse, and our private interactions. It must govern how we respond to murder, how we engage with those who celebrate death, and how we work to prevent future violence.

The alternative is clear: a society that celebrates the murder of its ideological opponents has lost its soul. We have seen glimpses of that darkness in the reactions to Kirk's death. Multiple platforms were inundated with celebrations of murder, teachers and workers were fired for inappropriate responses, and the graphic video of Kirk's shooting spread virally across social media with millions viewing his final moments. This represents a level of moral decay that previous generations would have found unthinkable.

We must choose a different path. This choice begins with recognizing that the first commandment God gave after the flood was simple but profound: protect human life because it bears My image. Our failure to heed that commandment has brought us to this dark moment. Our faithful response to it may yet lead us back to the light.

The path forward requires both personal transformation and institutional change. Individual Christians must examine their hearts for any participation in the dehumanization of political opponents. Churches must preach and model the imago Dei consistently, refusing to allow political ideology to override Christian anthropology. Civil authorities must recover their God-given responsibility to protect the innocent and execute justice proportionally. Media institutions must be reformed to stop rewarding the celebration of violence. Social media platforms must be held accountable for algorithms that amplify extreme content and celebrate death.

This work will require sustained effort across generations. The cultural catechesis that led to celebrating Kirk's murder did not happen overnight, and reversing it will not happen quickly. But the gospel provides both the motivation and the power for this work. Christ's death and resurrection demonstrate God's ultimate commitment to justice and mercy, and His Spirit enables believers to work tirelessly for the protection and flourishing of human life.

As we stand at this crossroads, we must ask ourselves: Will we continue to allow the celebration of death to define our public discourse, or will we reclaim the sacred principle that every person—including Charlie Kirk, including Tyler Robinson, including those who celebrated and those who mourned—bears the image of God and deserves to be treated with the dignity that image demands?

The answer to that question will determine not just our political future but the very soul of our civilization. May God grant us grace to see His image in every face we encounter, courage to defend it when threatened, and wisdom to build a culture where such violence becomes unthinkable. The first commandment still stands: whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in His own image. Our faithfulness to that principle will determine whether we recover the sanctity of life or descend further into the darkness of celebrating death.

In His Providence the Lord Gives and he takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord

In His Providence the Lord Gives and he takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord

My struggles have been deep as of late. I am thankful they have not turned too dark but have been genuine and often sad. I have learned over this last year that one can hold two emotions simultaneously, so you can be sad yet have joy, and it is ok.

In his providence, God led us to leave Marion, Illinois, and move to Washington, Illinois. In his providence, he allowed me to pastor a church only to later take it away. In his providence, he brought some incredible men into my life only to take them away. I do not have to understand; I only know he gives and he takes away. The question is will I bless his name?

I don't know why I have struggled so hard in these last few weeks focussing on all I have lost. Friends who are gone, a ministry left in shambles, feelings of being abandoned, wondering if I really have any friends (locally anyway), longing for something more in my relationships with others than what I have, the hurt is real. Still, the Lord gives, and he takes away.

I remember the day I met George. He walked in and sat in the back of the church on the right-hand side. He could not really hide; we were a small church, and he was a large man. My mind drifts back to that day, often to our conversation, to me asking if he had a family. I still remember him saying, "I listened to some of your sermons online, and I had to come to verify if this place was real." I told him that I hoped he found what he was looking for, and he did. I do not know that I have ever grown so close to someone so fast. I would talk with him multiple times throughout the week, have his family into my home and share things I had not shared with others. I could sit down and have a deep theological conversation or sit down and talk about nothing at all; it did not matter. George was that kind of friend. I remember the joy in my heart and being so thankful that God would bring someone to me that was such an encouragement. But the Lord gives, and he takes away.

I will never forget that day. I can remember every detail of the day; sometimes, I can still smell that day and still feel the coldness of that morning. I remember the run I had that morning. I remember having some coffee with the guys; I remember being outside and the tree falling into the neighbor's yard. The one memory I have never been able to shake is when George said, "hey Sean, where is your bathroom?" I think back to that moment over and over again. Often with tears in my eyes, and even though I know I would not have stopped what was about to happen, I wonder what if I would have at least said something. What if I had asked if he was ok? What if I had not waited so long to check on him? Did he know what was happening when he walked into that bathroom and collapsed? Was it fast? Did he know I love him? What were the thoughts in his mind? You see, I will never forget that day. It is etched in my mind. Me telling him I was coming in, and no response. Us breaking the door down and administering CPR. I can still hear the count in my head; I still remember the breaths that I gave; it was like it happened yesterday. Yet I come to this conclusion the Lord gives, and he takes away. I often ask God why he would take away a friend like George, and I have no answer. Will I bless the name of the Lord?

Bill Sexton walked into our church on a Wednesday in a suit. I was in shorts and a t-shirt. I introduced myself as the pastor. I remember his first words to me, "Do you preach on the sovereignty of God in this church" I remember thinking that is an odd question. My response? "Is it in the Bible," to which he responded, "yes," to which I replied, "then I preach on it?" He said he and his wife would be back on Sunday, but I did not believe it. Sure enough, there they were that Sunday. Then the Sunday after that, then the Sunday after that, and they just kept on coming.
To Bill, age did not mean anything. It did not matter that he was far older than I; he still would ask me how to handle something, and he still asked me what I thought. He was an intelligent man, constantly studying and reading. Bill never missed a chance to encourage me. Time and time again, he would encourage me sometimes on Sunday; after the message sometimes, he would call me midweek just to encourage me. Bill would tell me on the phone he loved me, and I had no problem saying it back. Often he would say it was his job to be an encouragement to me. I can remember Bill saying that he wanted to be like Aaron or Hurr, who held up the hands of Moses. He felt it was his job to hold up my hands even if I could not hold them up any longer. Every pastor needs a man like Bill. A man who will walk through the fire for you, a man who will stand and fight the battles everyone else is afraid of fighting. However, the Lord gives, and he takes away.

Bill got sick and ended up in the hospital; he went from the hospital to a nursing home, where I was finally able t see him. He was not good, but he still encouraged me. he went from the nursing home back to the hospital. I tried every trick i Could think of to see him and could not get in due to covid restrictions. When Bill got covid, it was all downhill from there. They finally let me in to see him with his son, and they finally let his wife in to see him as well. I remember when I first walked in, he said to me, "I'm sorry."

I could not think of anything this man would need to apologize for, but Bill always felt he could have done more. If you know him you, this is true. I will never forget the day they said if he were to go on a ventilator, he had about a 5 percent chance of coming off. I explained this to him and asked what he wanted to do. He decided to go on his own terms and in the strength of the Lord. I remember whispering in his ear that it was ok to go home. As the end drew close, I went to his bedside and held his hand. I held his hand a lot in those last days, and I was standing there holding his hand; he drew his last breath and stepped into glory. This man that told me he wanted to hold my arms up when I could not lay there as I held his hand. God gave me the privilege to know him, and the privilege to be there with him when he drew his final breath. His battle on earth was done. The Lord gives, and he takes away will I bless the name of the Lord?

I recent weeks, these thoughts have often entered my mind. I have moments of extreme loneliness where I can be surrounded by people and still feel alone. I am a highly social person, and I have often asked the Lord why he would give these men only to take them away. I have cried many times, praying for someone to come into my life like either of these men. Sometimes just wishing I had someone to hang out with or a guy to invite over with his family for a cookout sometime, just anything. Then I discovered I am unwilling to take a risk, that I am so afraid of losing that I will even make excuses for other people as to why I won't ask them over or to do something.

You see, being a pastor, sometimes I think people feel like they kind of have to invite you over or ask you to do stuff with them, but what happens when you are no longer a pastor? What happens when you are just a regular guy, and no one really seems to notice you? No one seems to care, and no one is really vying to spend time with you. The invitations stop, you begin to wonder if you have the plague or something you do not even here from your own denomination; no one checks up on you even when they know what you are going through. These are things I have rarely, if ever, been faced with. Perhaps I feel alone because I am alone; perhaps I feel like I don't belong because, at this moment, I don't belong. Maybe that day will come when I do. Perhaps the Lord will one day grant me, someone, to step into my life once again. For now, In His providence, the Lord gives and takes away. May I fight to say blessed be the name of the Lord?

Where Is The Accountability For The Church?

Where Is The Accountability For The Church?

In recent years there has been plenty of talk about holding the leadership of churches accountable, and rightfully so. The leader who abuses their power and who seeks to fleece the flock should always be held accountable for their sin. Even if that accountability does not take place on earth, we can take comfort in the fact that God will hold all leaders to a special kind of accountability; this is made clear in the book of James, where we read, “Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1). Honestly, I do not know of any pastors who desire to be biblical who would make an argument for no accountability in leadership; in fact, most of them have made the opposite argument. In fact, this is one of the great benefits of a plurality of elders having a group of men qualified to be elders holding one another accountable. That is really not what I want to deal with here. I do not want to deal with what happens when the pastor is abusive, but what happens when the pastor is the one being abused? I read this tweet that was put out last year “For every horror story you tell me about a pastor who abused his leadership, I can tell you ten about leaders who abused their pastor.” There is an abundance of truth in that tweet.

Why is there so little written about this subject? It almost seems like this is the deep dark sin of the church that no one wants to talk about. I look around at many friends, acquaintances, and people I know who are no longer pastors; most of them will never return to the ministry, and granted, I am only hearing one side of the story, but from all intensive purposes, the problem was not their leadership it was not that they were abusive to their church, but often they were the ones being abused. They were not being abused by the church as a whole but being abused by a select group of power players in the church that had it out for them for one reason or another. In recent months I have read one story after another of pastors being abused; some of these stories are horrific; when I have read them, I could not help but think this is not how Christians are to act. Pastors coming back from sabbaticals to find out they are fired. Small groups of enraged members propagate disinformation and falsehoods to congregations to remove a pastor from any position of power or moral authority (in my case, it is still happening). Stories of pastors pouring their lives into person after person, only for those people to take the pastor's services for free and then ghost the pastor for the tiniest reasons. What happens if for every story we have of a pastor abusing authority, there are ten pastors who are being abused. I see friends who are beaten, battered, and bruised by the sheep they were leading,, and it breaks my heart.

What happens to these churches? If the leader is abusive, he will often lose his job, resign in shame, and will never enter the ministry again, or they will just go somewhere else and do it all over again; when the church is abusive, guess what the same thing happens. The pastor often resigns in shame and leaves the ministry, never to return again. Where is the accountability? Apparently, there is not any. What is the recourse? Apparently, there is none. Perhaps my view is a bit jaded because I am one of those pastors, but this is why I set out to read as much as I could and talk to some people that had left their church. The story is almost always very close to being identical.

Someone in the church gets upset for one reason or another; this person wields power for whatever reason in the church often because they are the main giver, or they have been there the longest, or they are the gossiper, or whoever it might be. Sometimes it is all of these people coming against the pastor. I wonder if we will ever launch a study on this? Probably not because that would mean a black eye. Anyway, the pastor resigns, the troublemaker in the church gets their way, the pastor loses what seems like his whole way of life, and the church just acts like nothing happened. Sometimes in my denomination, some people will sweep in and do all they can to rescue this church. This is probably because this is far easier than reprimanding the church; after all, the church gives money, and the pastor doesn't. I am thankful that I initially received some help, but I know that is not the norm. Sure the church may be known as "the church who runs pastors through the meat grinder," as one deacon said to me, but does that matter? Does it matter when sin is not addressed? Does it matter when they continue to go one like they always have? Does it matter when they get to blame their sin on others or pretend like sin was not the issue?

In the meantime, the pastor has lost his whole way of life. He does not get to be with those other pastors that he at least thought were his friends. His community is gone, and he is no longer using the gifts that God has given him to serve the kingdom, primarily the gift of preaching/teaching. The pastor feels isolated, lonely, and sometimes without hope. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, months turn to years, and this calling that so gripped his soul is somehow gone. Maybe he wants to continue on, but he is afraid things will just turn out the same, and so it is easier to just give up. Here is my question? For these churches that are part of a denomination, why are they allowed to just keep doing the same thing over and over again? Why is there no accountability for the church? Why doesn't anyone step in to the gap and address the issue? Why are they allowed to just blame it on the pastor and move on? Why do we indulge this kind of behavior? Do we really believe that they will not answer for this sin in the end? Do we really believe that the right way to handle it is to pretend like there is no problem and move on? Do we really believe that by aiding in their sinfulness, we won't answer for it? Seemingly we do.

I can remember the day I told my children Iwas resigning one of my children innocently said "but dad who is going to tell them about Jesus" and on that day another one of my children checked out from church. Over the course of the next several days I could hear it in the questions they were asking. They could not understand why Christians would act this way "so these people now for whatever reason hate dad?" In some respects I appreciated the comment as it told me they saw me different than those making accusations. In another way though I knew they began to check out. I pray for them daily that they will be drawn back in.

I recently went on a pastors retreat and heard a message on pastoral perseverance where the message was speaking about the slow death that pastors are called to die and these things left me weeping and in tears as I thought of my own slow death that would eventually come.

From 2 Corinthains 4

1. Pastors die at a different rate based on circumstances 

The harder the ministry context the quicker the death comes. Do not compare yourself to each other. Do not compare your death to someone else’s death. The body keeps the score. 

2. Pastors have different capacities to die

We are all made differently. We all have different thresholds that we can endure. You can’t compare your capacity with another. 

3. Pastors are given what we need to not lose heart as we die. 

This will push us to the brink but it will not destroy us. V.1 He will not spare us from the death because it is part of his plan that we die but he will be with us to allow us to die well.

4. Pastors thrive in this death by embracing weakness 

V . 7 Christ is most strong in us in our weakness it is our weakness that fuels the strength of Christ. Do not fight against the death but embrace it. 

Brother pastor, if you have stumbled across this blog and you have rad this far you may be hurting I want you to remember the cross always precedes the crown. It is hard to suffer abuse of power, but the chief pastor willingly suffered the abuse of power on a hill called Calvary, and we are his undershepherds, and honestly, we should expect no less. There is a day coming when the injsutices against you will be made right. If you are not a pastor and you have read this and you know your pastor or of a pastor being abused I would beg of you do all you can to stop it. I was able to find a few articles on this subject they are linked below if you would like to read more.

https://www.christiancentury.org/review/books/how-dying-churches-abuse-pastors

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