There are days I wake up and worry about my own soul. Not in a dramatic or despairing way, but in the quiet and sobering realization that my inner life—my time with Jesus, my pursuit of holiness, my spiritual hunger—can grow thin without much warning. Compared to the saints who carved hours out of their day to be with the Lord, my few moments in prayer or reflection sometimes feel pitifully insufficient. I grieve not just for myself, but for the world around me, especially the Christian leaders who are crumbling under the weight of internal decay.
It’s become far too common: the collapse of pastors, ministry heads, worship leaders—those we once looked to as spiritual guides. These are not just moral failures; they are spiritual implosions. They are not the result of sudden temptations, nor are they a sign of some hidden defect unique to those individuals. They are the outcome of neglected souls. Men and women who once professed devotion to Christ now embrace ideologies and lifestyles antithetical to the gospel they once proclaimed. Why? Because, I believe, they stopped sitting at the feet of Jesus.
Many spiritual leaders fall not because they wake up one day and decide to sin, but because they’ve slowly stopped tending to their souls. They stop meditating on Scripture (Psalm 1:2), neglect prayer (Luke 5:16), abandon silence and solitude (Mark 1:35), and forsake study and community (Acts 2:42). In the void, ego and performance creep in. Their ministries may grow, but their souls shrink. They become platforms without presence. As Dallas Willard (2002) once wrote, “The most important thing in your life is not what you do; it’s who you become” (p. 23).
We often miss this because we reward charisma over character. We platform the gifted instead of the spiritually grounded. A.W. Tozer (1961) warned that a person can be right in doctrine but still spiritually hollow. “We have been snared in the coils of a spurious logic,” he wrote, “which insists that if we have found Him, we need no more seek Him” (p. 15). But the Bible never teaches that spiritual health is a one-time transaction—it is a daily surrender.
Scripture offers no category for leaders who follow God without being with God. Jesus Himself modeled solitude as essential for ministry. Mark records, “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed” (Mark 1:35, ESV). This moment comes immediately after a night of miraculous healings. If the Son of God needed time in solitude with the Father, how much more do we?
The Psalms speak constantly of the one who delights in the law of the Lord and meditates day and night (Psalm 1:2). This is not a metaphorical suggestion—it is the prescription for a spiritually rooted life. In the New Testament, Paul exhorts us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17, ESV) and to be “transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2, ESV). Transformation does not happen by accident. It is the result of practices and presence.
R. Kent Hughes (2001) explains that discipline is the key to godliness. “There is no such thing as a drift toward holiness,” he writes. “We will not grow in godliness without intentionally pursuing it” (p. 14). And this intentionality, he argues, is rooted in daily habits of spiritual discipline.
When spiritual leaders fall, it often comes after long seasons of isolation—emotional, relational, and spiritual. They are physically surrounded by people but relationally alone. Their marriages are strained. Friendships have atrophied. There is no one who knows their soul. Mark Sayers (2019) describes this condition as a crisis of “non-place,” where we lose anchoring to sacred space, community, or regular formation. In such environments, digital distractions and moral relativism thrive.
Leaders often become isolated because they confuse public influence with private intimacy. Their identity is swallowed by their role. John Mark Comer (2019) observes that many leaders suffer from “hurry sickness,” where the soul is constantly overstimulated but never deeply formed. “If you want to experience the life of Jesus, you have to adopt the lifestyle of Jesus” (p. 49). That includes early mornings of solitude, long stretches of silence, and submission to the Father’s will.
Some fear drawing near to God because He is “dangerous”—and rightly so. Hebrews 12:29 reminds us, “Our God is a consuming fire.” He is holy. He is not tame. And yet, in His holiness, He invites us in through the sacrifice of Christ. Alistair Begg (2005) reminds us that the call of Christ is not to safety but to surrender. “The issue is not whether we are comfortable with God’s holiness,” he writes, “but whether we are willing to be conformed to it” (p. 77).
In this sense, God is dangerous not because He harms, but because He transforms. He burns away pride, ego, and sin. He uproots idols. He calls us to die daily (Luke 9:23). But in this danger, there is love. There is life. As John Tyson (2021) explains, the holiness of God is both terrifying and beautiful because it leads us into the kind of life we were made for—one marked by purity, humility, and intimacy with Jesus.
As a professor and counselor, I often share this burden with my colleagues. Clinical excellence is essential, but it is not sufficient. We must form the person, not just the professional. My dean has often emphasized this, calling us to focus not only on skills, but on the soul of the therapist-in-training. Without spiritual formation, our work in mental health becomes technique without transformation.
If we graduate counselors who know how to listen but do not know how to kneel in prayer, we have failed. If we develop clinicians who can diagnose but cannot disciple themselves, we have failed. As Tozer (1961) warned, the church is in danger when its leaders are “learned but not godly” (p. 26). The danger is not external persecution, but internal erosion.
Dallas Willard (1998) famously wrote that “the most important thing about you is not the things you achieve, but the person you become” (p. xii). This is doubly true for those in leadership, whose failures ripple far beyond their own lives. Our families watch us. Our children watch us. Our spouses see through the professional veneer. We must submit ourselves to Christ, and to our loved ones, daily.
Each day I wake with a renewed responsibility to sit at the feet of Jesus. Some days I fail. Other days I succeed. But I never forget that my very soul depends on this pursuit. I want my children to see in me a life that is deeply rooted in Christ. I want them to see that television, phones, and the noise of culture cannot satisfy like Jesus can. I want them to learn habits I never did—habits of meditation, silence, community, and sacred rhythm.
As Richard Foster (1998) noted, spiritual disciplines are not about legalism; they are about life. “The purpose of the disciplines is liberation from the stifling slavery to self-interest and fear” (p. 6). They lead us into freedom, not bondage. They align our souls with the God who made us.
If you’re longing to develop a sacred rhythm in your own life—a habit of silence, Scripture meditation, and time with Jesus—I invite you to explore the Sanctuary app. Designed for Christian leaders, counselors, and everyday believers, the app offers guided Lectio Divina, mood tracking, spiritual discipline resources, and space for personal reflection. It’s a companion for the journey of abiding in Christ. Begin cultivating your time at His feet today:
👉 https://app--sanctuary-scripture-meditation-a8a25080.base44.app
Let us not wait until collapse reveals the cracks. Let us form habits today that shape us into the image of Christ. Let us sit at His feet, meditate on His word, delight in His presence, and invite others into the journey.
Because when leaders fall, it is often not from a single decision—but from a slow drift. And the only way to avoid that drift is to anchor our lives in Jesus, again and again.
References
Begg, A. (2005). Made for His pleasure: Ten benchmarks of a vital faith. Moody Publishers.
Comer, J. M. (2019). The ruthless elimination of hurry. WaterBrook.
Foster, R. J. (1998). Celebration of discipline: The path to spiritual growth (Rev. ed.). HarperOne.
Hughes, R. K. (2001). Disciplines of a godly man. Crossway.
Sayers, M. (2019). Reappearing church: The hope for renewal in the rise of our post-Christian culture. Moody Publishers.
Tozer, A. W. (1961). The pursuit of God. Christian Publications.
Tyson, J. (2021). Beautiful resistance: The joy of conviction in a culture of compromise. Multnomah.
Willard, D. (1998). The divine conspiracy: Rediscovering our hidden life in God. HarperOne.
Willard, D. (2002). Renovation of the heart: Putting on the character of Christ. NavPress.

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