Editor’s note: This column was written by a member of the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention’s Shepherds Collective. For more information, visit sbtexas.com/networks/shepherds-collective.

I’m a pastor, and I’ve struggled with pride. Not the loud kind—I’ve never stood in a pulpit and thought I was the greatest preacher alive. But I’ve checked the clicks. I’ve watched how many people viewed our service online. I’ve scrolled the comments looking for something good. I’ve kept a mental tally of how many people stopped me on the way out the door to mention the sermon.

I never said any of that out loud, but I have been guilty of it—and I suspect I’m not alone.

Pastoral pride is rarely loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It slips in quietly and looks a lot like caring about your ministry. It can look like needing people to love your sermons or refreshing your church’s social media page to see how many people shared Sunday’s message. It can look like feeling important when you get invited to the right meetings or measuring your church’s success by whether it’s being talked about around town or the state.

None of those things are wrong on their own. But when they become the scoreboard for whether ministry is going well, something has gotten off track.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand: This kind of pride starts as a way of measuring success, but it eventually shifts our focus. Little by little, it turns the spotlight away from God and onto ourselves. When that happens, we’re pointing the congregation to the wrong person.

The answer isn’t false humility—deflecting compliments, minimizing preparation, or making self-deprecating jokes. It’s found in where we direct our boasting. In 2 Corinthians 10:17, Paul doesn’t say to stop boasting. He says to boast in the right thing: “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.”

That simple command doesn’t kill our confidence. It relocates it. When our boasting is in Christ, we stop preaching for a response and start preaching because the Word is powerful. We stand on the promise that God’s Word “shall not return to me empty” (Isaiah 55:11). That truth changes how we step into the pulpit and how we walk out of it.

Even on the Sundays when the sermon feels flat, when the room feels distracted, and when no one says anything to us on the way out the door, God still gets the glory. The Word was preached. He will accomplish what He intends. That’s not settling for less. That’s the freedom of preaching to the glory of God alone.

When a pastor learns to boast in Christ, he can take criticism without falling apart. He can rejoice when another church grows without feeling jealous. He can preach to 30 people with the same fire he’d bring to 300. He’s no longer performing. He’s delivering a message for the king who doesn’t need him to be impressive.

So what does this look like in everyday ministry?

1. Make it a habit to pray before you look at any feedback—before the comments, before the views, before the compliments. Ask the Lord to make you indifferent to your own glory and hungry for His.
2. Preach to your congregation—to the struggling member carrying something heavy that nobody else knows about. Remind them every single week how good God is!
3. Find a fellow pastor who will ask you the hard questions—not just, “How was Sunday?” but, “Who were you really preaching for this week?” That kind of accountability is one of the sweetest gifts a pastor can receive.

Brothers, the pulpit is a holy place. It was never meant to showcase us. It was meant to magnify Christ, the only one truly worth boasting about. Let’s keep it that way.

When it comes to my theological upbringing, I am a bit of a mutt. I was raised in a Christian home, but it was certainly not a Baptist one. As a kid, I attended a variety of different churches and experienced several different denominational traditions.

Then something amazing happened: I started dating a Baptist deacon’s daughter. To spend more time with her, I began attending church with her in Salem, Ore. This is where my theological confusion reached a fever pitch.

My girlfriend grew up in a highly conservative Baptist church—though it was not a Southern Baptist Convention church. When we eventually got married and moved back to Texas, my father-in-law, who is a profoundly godly man, encouraged us not to join an SBC church. To my wife’s dismay, there were few options in the Houston area that would satisfy her dad, so we eventually became members at Sagemont in Houston. If you know anything about John Morgan, Sagemont’s founding and former senior pastor, you know he is the epitome of theological conservatism.

Later on, I entered vocational ministry and began wrestling with the finer points of my theology. I had always had a high view of the Bible, God’s sovereignty, and the Great Commission, but for the first time, I was getting a crash course in the theological fault lines that can exist among those with sincerely held doctrinal beliefs.

While on staff at my first church, I was attending classes at Southwestern’s Houston campus and found myself captivated by a man named Charles Spurgeon. When I read Spurgeon, I was torn: He was passionately evangelistic while also immovable in his belief in God’s absolute sovereignty in salvation—and he defended both from the authority of God’s Word.

I began to feel like I was living a double life. I was slowly being convicted regarding God’s sovereignty, but I knew I would likely be looking for a new job if my pastor found out I was sympathetic to Calvin and reformed theology.

At that time, I began talking with a church I would ultimately pastor for five years. While serving there, I worked on my master’s degree at Midwestern and came to the conclusion that Spurgeon was on to something—it is possible to hold the conviction that God is absolutely sovereign while also pleading with people to surrender their lives to the lordship of Jesus. The more I embraced reformed theology and the writings of Calvin, the Puritans, and Spurgeon, the more passionate I became for evangelism, and my resolve for the authority and inerrancy of the Bible strengthened.

In my nearly 40 years, my theology has indeed changed. The influences of the various traditions of my childhood have all played a role in my spiritual formation, and I am deeply grateful for the complex and rich theological tradition of Baptists.

Our church, Fairview Baptist Church in Sherman, is a proud Southern Baptist Church. We hold firm to the authority and inerrancy of Scripture. We believe in the Trinity and in the perfect humanity and deity of Jesus. We believe salvation is by grace through faith alone. We are intentional about fulfilling the Great Commission.

Yet our church has cultivated a culture of theological study and discussion. We have been intentional about creating space for theological discourse in our study times. We hold the primary things with closed hands but keep the secondary things with open hands.

As my theological convictions have changed and strengthened, I see the same in my church. Not everyone agrees with me, and that’s OK. As long as we hold to the church’s primary doctrines and are committed to its mission, there is room for healthy dialogue and even disagreement.

Editor’s note: This column was written by a member of the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention’s Shepherds Collective. For more information, visit sbtexas.com/networks/shepherds-collective.

There’s a saying that it takes a village to raise a child, and God’s village for raising godly children is the church. God has truly blessed me with a great village of men who have come alongside me to be the pastor I am today.

I began pastoring at 26. I knew I needed help if I was going to pastor well. God’s village stepped into this gap. I reached out to my godly friends and pastors regularly, and I’ve made many phone calls asking for help with problems I never thought I would have to counsel church members through.

It’s not that seeking godly counsel is a bad thing. In fact, it’s biblical. Proverbs 11:14 says, “Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety.” Godly counsel is a blessing to all Christians and especially pastors.

But one of the things I’ve learned about myself over my years of pastoring is how quickly I am to rely on that village rather than on God’s Spirit for guidance. I was so quick to pick up the phone to call pastors who have served longer than me rather than prayerfully waiting on the Lord in prayer on things involving His sheep.

Over time, I realized that if I can get immediate wisdom from godly counsel, it would make my decisions quicker and more informed. What I didn’t realize was how unwise that was in the grand scheme of things.

God’s greatest help to the Christian and pastor is the Holy Spirit. He should not be my second choice, but my first. While it is tempting to seek godly counsel before God’s counsel because of the immediate answers it offers, it is better for us to seek God’s counsel first because He knows His sheep best. He also knows us pastors best! He knows our blind spots, frustrations, worries, and sin. He knows our gifts, experience, and where we thrive. I say this to remind us as church leaders that while it is crucial to have many mentors, counselors, and advisors to call on, we should call on the Lord before any of them.

One of the greatest challenges for pastors is their easy accessibility to resources and wisdom. If you don’t know the answer, someone has written a book on it. If you don’t have time to read the book, you can ask ChatGPT to summarize it. If you want to talk to someone about it, you can call your pastor friends. Immediate answers and immediate wisdom are just moments away.

But let me offer a better way forward. Go to the Lord in prayer before you call, Google, or ask. Is that groundbreaking advice? No, but it is the best advice I have. I have found that the more I seek the Lord’s counsel first, the better I can navigate the godly counsel of others, the better I can discern what I should and shouldn’t say, and the better I can relate to the sheep He has called me to care for.

Church leaders, you have myriad problems to navigate. People are looking to you to help them with their spiritual problems. Please seek godly counsel, but not until you have approached the throne of grace first.

Editor’s note: This column was written by a member of the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention’s Shepherds Collective. For more information, visit sbtexas.com/networks/shepherds-collective.

I was 31 when I preached my first sermon as a senior pastor. Compared to many figures throughout church history (and many rookie pastors today!), that’s not remarkably young. But if you were to ask many of those who were present for that first sermon, they would have said it was remarkable (“I’ve got grandkids your age!”). Even before then, at age 23, I was called to lead volunteers twice or even three times my age.

Most pastors and staff find themselves leading people who are older than they are. How can we lead well when we don’t have certain life experiences, relational capital, or a proven track record? We know 1 Timothy 4:12, but how can we be an example for those beyond us in years?

Lead from the front

By the front, I’m referring mainly to the pastor’s weekly responsibility of proclaiming God’s Word and applying it to God’s people.

In Herman Melville’s book Moby Dick, Ishmael stumbles into the Whaleman’s Chapel. The pulpit is shaped like the bow of a ship so that the preacher resembles a captain peering out over the waters. This imagery is not lost on Ishamel, who recognizes that “the pulpit leads the world.” As the bow of a ship must break through waves and set clear direction for the crew, so the pulpit of a local church must be stewarded as an opportunity to lead, especially for the young pastor.

As a younger pastor handles the text faithfully, applies pastorally, and preaches dependently, others will notice—including the older saints. While we’ve heard it before, it’s worth noting again (and reminding ourselves every Monday morning) that Paul’s command to the young Timothy was to preach the Word (2 Timothy 4:2). So much is out of our control as pastors, but that’s within it. As we rightly handle God’s Word (2 Timothy 2:15), we trust that the saints will follow. In his book, The Art of Pastoring, David Hansen writes, “The people of God will follow the pastor who feeds them the Word of God. That isn’t to say that they won’t balk once in a while … But week in and week out, year in and year out, Christians will not cut themselves off from the one who sets their spiritual table.”

Young pastors, lead from the front by handling God’s Word with accuracy, passion, and compassion, and believe that the Lord is building trust among those who hear you.

Lead from below

If preaching constitutes leading from the front, humility constitutes leading from below. Even in our preaching, our humility should be evident. Our tone, our illustrations, and our applications should all be clothed in gentleness, pointing our hearers to Christ and not ourselves.

I’m talking about the sorts of ministry realities we have outside the pulpit: meetings, conversations in the hallway, the senior adult lunch, hospital visits, a card to a recent widow, a kind text message. If you can exude genuine humility in these spaces, your older members will see and embrace it.

Many of them already wonder if they have a contribution to make, and any whiff of arrogance threatens to accentuate their feelings of increasing irrelevance. If you can walk humbly alongside your congregation, you’ll help them feel valued and needed.

So don’t rush the conversation with an older saint. Walk slowly in the sanctuary before the service. Remember their grandkids’ names. Celebrate and honor the past. Poke fun at yourself. Humility has a knack for creating trust; after all, if they know you’re not in it for you but for them, they’ll grow to trust your discernment and decision-making. The only way to arrive there is through the habit and discipline of walking in lowly, Christlike humility.

Lead from above

By above, I don’t mean abusive or autocratic authority. Rather, I mean leading confidently in the role God has called you to and not shying away from the responsibility to lead even in discomfort and uncertainty.

If leading from the front is about preaching, and leading from below is about humility, then leading from above is about, well, leading. In other words, God has called you to lead regardless of your age. That means you shoulder the responsibilities, pressure, and expectations a leader assumes. For younger men, that will often include insecurities, doubts, and lingering questions about effectiveness. Yet none of those are reasons to fail to lead.

Here’s what I’ve learned: People appreciate leaders, even if they are younger. Don’t lead recklessly, but do not be afraid to take prayerful risks and take your people to places that may feel different or foreign. All the classic pastoral advice applies: Move carefully, show them in Scripture why this is necessary, encourage rather than drive, and the like. But above all—lead. Leadership by nature means we’re stepping into unknown places, unsure of how all this will go. Lead them anyway.

Being among the youngest in the room can be intimidating. But I think it’s a great opportunity to flip the script: You get to know, learn from, and love these men and women who have in some cases walked with Jesus longer than you’ve been alive. God, in His kind providence, has called you to serve and lead them in this season of your life and in this season of their lives.

Given that truth, fear not—lead from the front through preaching, lead from below through humility, and lead from above in your God-given calling as a shepherd.

Editor’s note: This column was written by a member of the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention’s Shepherds Collective. For more information, visit sbtexas.com/networks/shepherds-collective.

If we’re honest, many of us have felt the tension around corporate prayer. We affirm it theologically. We schedule it strategically. We want our churches to value it deeply. And yet we’ve all felt how fragile it can be, especially when attendance fluctuates or participation feels thin. In those moments, it’s tempting to pivot toward something more measurable or immediately productive.

I’m convinced the issue isn’t whether the church believes prayer matters. The deeper question is whether we, as shepherds, are truly leading our people in it.

Corporate prayer doesn’t drift toward strength, but it will always drift toward neglect. That’s not because people are indifferent, but because every church is shaped by what’s consistently emphasized. Our rhythms reveal our theology. Few things expose our functional dependence more clearly than how we pray together.

Corporate prayer is one of the clearest expressions of a church’s dependence upon God. We can preach trust while operating from competence. We can teach grace while subtly modeling self-reliance. But when we intentionally create unhurried space to seek the Lord together, we declare with our actions prayer isn’t preparation for the work—it is the work.

In 2 Chronicles 20, when enemy armies stood at the doorstep, King Jehoshaphat didn’t begin with strategy. He gathered the families of Judah to seek the Lord. His prayer was marked by honesty and humility: “We are powerless … We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” Before plans were formed, dependence was declared and demonstrated.

Corporate prayer also forms a people in ways preaching alone cannot. What we consistently pray for shapes what we long for. It trains reflexes of humility and deepens instincts of surrender. It reminds us Christ is the head of the church, and we are not its engine.

How can we, as pastors, lead our people to embrace these truths?

Clarity lowers fear

Many believers avoid corporate prayer not because they lack desire, but because they lack confidence. Lower the entry point without lowering the vision. Offer short prompts. Pray Scripture. Model simple, sincere language.

Pace communicates priority

If prayer is consistently compressed between announcements and the sermon, it will always feel secondary. Unhurried time, even moments of silence, signals that seeking God isn’t a transition but a priority.

Substance invites engagement

Pray for real things: holiness, repentance, unity, courage, endurance, the lost, suffering saints, boldness in witness. When prayers carry weight, people lean in.

Tone sets culture

A church often prays the way its leaders pray. So pray sincerely and with conviction rather than with polished perfection. Pray with honesty and humility. Over time, a culture of dependent prayer will grow.

If you want to strengthen corporate prayer, begin with one intentional shift:

• Reclaim meaningful space on Sundays. Build 5-10 minutes of intentional prayer into the weekly gathering. Frame it clearly and give people room to participate.
• Establish a consistent rhythm. Consider a monthly gathering dedicated to praise and intercession. Repetition shapes culture.
• Tie prayer to pivotal moments. Before major decisions, transitions, or during seasons of hardship, gather the church to seek the Lord together. Make dependence visible early and often.

Corporate prayer isn’t a box to check, it’s a culture to cultivate.

In a ministry landscape driven by outcomes and efficiency, leading a church to say together, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you” may be one of the most faithful expressions of leadership we can offer.