Craig Groeschel - Confessions of a Pastor: Adventures in Dropping the Pose and Getting Real with God

O ne Sunday, I stood before my church, filled with fear. Fear that they would think I had failed them as their pastor, that I had let them down. But I was finally ready to tell the truthI was sure it was what God wanted me to do.

I hadnt had an affair or stolen from the church funds. In fact, my sins were small, everyday things; they were all just hidden from view. From the pews, it looked as if I had become everything and done everything a pastor shouldand I worked very hard to keep it that way. I had played the part to perfection.

And that was the problem.

Im going to share the story of an impostor exposed. Its more than the story of one Sunday morning, though. Its about how, over a lifetime, a reasonably well-intentioned follower of Jesus can succeed at building an impressive exterior but fail miserably at being the real thingthe person God so lovingly created in the first place.

You may not like me after reading this book. But on the chance God might use my story to help you put down the masks and reclaim the real you, its a risk Im willing to take.

From my earliest childhood memories, I remember playing the game. Maybe you played it, too. Id try to say the right things at the right times to the right people. When the people or circumstances changed, so did I.

As a young child, I tried my best to please my parents. In school I made sure my teachers got my grandest act. Theres nothing terribly wrong with that, but looking back, I see that those were just practice runs for what would come later.

As a teenager I did almost anything for acceptance from my buddies. I partied, swore, lied, cheated, and stole. I thought these things would help my popularity. Whether that lifestyle gained me friends is debatable. What it could have cost me in the long run is not. By the time I started college, I was playing so many different roles that I began to lose track of the real me. Honestly, I began to wonder if there was a real me.

At nineteen I became a follower of Christ. And the parts of my life He changed, He changed miraculously. He cleaned house. But in a darkened corner here, a locked closet there, I continued to believe I was better off putting up a front. Except now it was a new front, a spiritual one. It was still the same old game, just played out on a different stage.

Within a few years, I became a pastor. Youd think that becoming a man of the cloth (whatever that means) would have shaken the deceit right out of me. But as a young pastor, I simply turned pro. My church members observed my finest performances. And I fooled many of them, but I didnt fool myself

And I didnt fool God.

I entered seminary after I had been a pastor for a while. One of my professors taught me many invaluable ministry principles. In fact, I still practice most of what I learned from him, and Im eternally grateful for his friendship and leadership. However, one of the things he shared with me I now believe was not only wrong, but incredibly dangerous. He called it the pastors mystique. And he told us ministry trainees that we had to guard it at all cost.

People think they want their pastors to be normal everyday people, he used to tell our class, but they really dont. They want to see you as superhuman, better than the average person. Church members want to believe your marriage is always strong, your faith never falters, and you are virtually without sin.

I hung on every word, soaking up his advice.

Week after week, my professor returned to his warnings about a pastors mystique: Keep your guard up, hed say. Dont let them know the real you. Always dress the part. Always talk the part. Youre a pastor now. And you can never let them into your life. Or youll regret it.

This sounded logical to me. Hed obviously been deeply wounded in his ministry and wanted to help us avoid similar pain. I knew thenand still believethat he meant well. So I took what he said to heart and continued perfecting my good pastor act. Id smile big at the church members, shake each hand with both of mine, and end each conversation with the pastors best line: God bless you. Somewhere on my journey, though, I forgot that God called menot to be like a pastor, but to be like Christ

Thats when my spiritual struggles started. I wasnt living with gross, unconfessed sinat least not the kind that gets pastors fired. And my motives werent bad. I loved Jesus and His people. Every bone in my body desired to make a difference for God in this world. I poured my heart fully into ministry, enduring long hours, boring meetings, grueling classes, temperamental people, and plenty of good, old-fashioned church conflictsall for Jesus.