Eyes on the Cross
Why looking up never means tuning out
A good line can be turned into a bad excuse.
“You cannot preach with one eye on the crowd” is a line I believe with my whole heart. But I’ve watched what can happen when a pastor hears it and quietly adds a sentence it never said: so I don’t have to listen to anybody.
Eyes on the cross.Ears open to the people.
Those two things were never meant to fight each other. The trouble is how easily we let them.
Two ditches, one road
There are two ways to run off the road here, and we can end up in either one.
The crowd-watcher
Steers by applause and complaints. This leader softens the hard word, delays the hard decision, and calls it “being sensitive.” Every Sunday feels like a vote, and this person is always campaigning.
The fortress
Steers by armor. Every pushback is opposition, every question is a lack of faith, and “I’m just being faithful” becomes the way this leader ends every conversation. Nobody can reach them, and they call it conviction.
The fun part here is that these are the same mistake. Both are looking at the pastor. One is protecting his standing. The other is protecting his ego. Neither one is looking at the cross.
The cross looks back
Keeping my eyes on the cross doesn’t put me above correction. It puts me under it.
The same cross that frees me from the crowd’s verdict also tells me the truth about myself. I’m a sinner who needs the very grace I preach. A pastor who really keeps his eyes there can’t stay defensive for long, because the first thing the cross does is take away his right to be right about everything.
The cross doesn’t just free me from listening to the crowd. It frees me to listen to them.
When my standing is already settled by Christ, criticism stops being a threat to who I am. It’s just information. Sometimes it’s painful, sometimes it’s wrong, and every so often it’s exactly what God sent.
Three questions for when it stings
I don’t always sort this out well in the moment. These help me slow down enough to try.
Message or messenger?
If someone objects to what Scripture says, that’s between them and the Word, and I don’t get to edit that one. If they’re objecting to how I said it or how I treated someone, I owe them a real hearing.
Who else is saying it?
One critic is information. A pattern from my spouse, my elders, or a pastor I trust is a warning I’d be foolish to ignore.
Would I take it from a friend?
If I’d receive it as wisdom from someone I trust, I should be willing to receive the true part of it from someone who’s angry.
Who gets to speak into you
Every leader needs a few people with permission to say the hard thing. Not the whole crowd, and not just the yes-men. A handful of people who love Jesus, love you, and are not afraid of you.
If you can’t name them, that’s worth fixing before you need them. A leader who can’t be corrected by friends will eventually be corrected by something far less gentle.
If you’ve been burned
Some of you reading this have been hurt in ministry. Maybe the grief you held got turned into a weapon. Maybe the people you poured into walked away without a word. And the fortress is starting to look awfully appealing.
I understand. But don’t build it. Carry the pain to the cross, which is the one place that can actually hold it. This allows you to keep the door open for the people God keeps sending you. Some of them will wound you. Some of them will be the very ones who save your ministry. You won’t know which is which if you’ve stopped listening.
Eyes on the cross.
Ears open to the people.
A heart humble enough to be corrected.
