Why Christian Leaders Fall: Neglecting Time with Jesus

  1. Share
1 5

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.

The Root of the Fall: Neglecting the Inner Life

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.

What Scripture Teaches About Intimacy with God

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.

The Slow Drift of Isolation

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.

A Dangerous God, A Holy Invitation

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.

Developing the Inner Life in Counseling and Leadership

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.

A Call to Sacred Rhythms

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.

Experience Deeper Stillness with the Sanctuary App

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.

Community tags

This content has 0 tags that match your profile.

Comments

To leave a comment, login or sign up.
  • John Oh

    John Oh

    Thank you for sharing. The non place was something that resonated with me
  • Andrew Wichterman

    Andrew Wichterman

    Thanks for the comment!
  • Ben Stephenson

    Ben Stephenson

    Thank you again Dr. Wichterman for sharing. I love that you said that, "They stopped sitting at the feet of Jesus." I felt that. It caused a lot of self-reflection to step back and view the spaces where I am kneeling. Am I kneeling before God and reflecting on his word and setting goals for my life? Am I kneeling at the feet of worldly gods that try and take my devotion and directions elsewhere? I have also enjoyed using the Sanctuary app. I wish the 30 month bible reading plan worked though. I have been stuck on Genesis 1-3 for a couple weeks and not able to move forward. Hopefully its just a small bug and it gets fixed soon. Thank you again for sharing your wisdom!
  • Andrew Wichterman

    Andrew Wichterman

    Hi Ben, thank you for letting me know. I'll get it fixed right away. Feel free to email me with any further issues - the app is still technically in development so I want to know these things before the price goes up!
  • Veronica  Bove

    Veronica Bove

    “If the Son of God needed time in solitude with the Father, how much more do we?” This hit home. I have shared many times with my community of sisters that I have a deep longing to just be with Jesus. I feel that the distractions of every day life rob me of time with Jesus. I feel that I do not have enough time to complete just normal daily tasks. A friend told me that if I just spent at least 20 minutes in prayer or just quiet time with Jesus that He will make it so I will complete the tasks that are at hand. I cannot remember the name of the course that required I spend at least three hours of uninterrupted time with God in prayer and just being still. I had prepared my spirit a week in advance. My be heart was ready and my spirit was excited. I want that feeling again…I want that every day. It was such a beautiful and intimate experience. I know that I just need to make it happen. While worship songs and Christian memes keep me “connected,” there is nothing better than God’s direct Word to me. Thank you for sharing this and the information on the app. Blessings

Related Content

3
When the Counselor Scoffs: Why Internal Refinement Matters More Than Skill
Dr. Andrew R. Wichterman, LPC There was a time early in my counseling career—back in the days of home-based therapy and community mental health—when I still believed that professionalism alone could carry the weight of this work. I was several years in, working with families in one of the tougher areas of town. One family in particular had a reputation for appearing put together, at least externally. But once inside the home, it was clear there was a deep well of unresolved anger and dysfunction. The father was particularly volatile. He also enjoyed cultivating his own marijuana—well before it was legal in our state. The teenage son, understandably angry himself, had been caught showing off his dad’s stash to another kid in the bed of a broken-down truck parked on the property. That stunt, with a side of reckless driving, landed him in the probation system, and eventually in my office. At the time, I was acting part counselor, part case manager—navigating probation, school complications, family conflict, and trauma exposure all at once. But over time, this young man began to make real progress. He slowly started distancing himself from his father's influence and began to walk a different path—one his mother had long hoped for. Eventually, we closed his case. Then One Day, I Saw Him Again I was walking into the probation office, and there he stood—smiling, full of pride. He told me, “I'm about to get my driver’s license.” And without even thinking, I laughed. Not the warm kind of laugh. A short, almost scoffing kind of laugh—something that bubbled up from a dark corner within me that I wasn’t proud of. Just a few years prior, this same teen had been on probation in part for reckless driving. So the idea of him getting licensed felt ironic. But that wasn’t an excuse. Not really. I quickly apologized: “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.” He responded with a smirk and said, “Yeah you do. It’s kind of funny.” He took it well. But it really bothered me. The Counselor’s Internal Work Where did that laugh come from? That scoff? That brief flicker of superiority? I’ve revisited that moment again and again over the years—sometimes in supervision with other therapists, sometimes in quiet moments of prayer, sometimes when mentoring students. The truth is, that laugh came from a place within me that had not yet been refined. It came from pride. It came from thinking I was better than the people I was serving. It came from a heart that needed sanctification. And it raised a question that every Christian counselor should ask themselves: What are we doing if we can't respect the people we are called to serve? The Need for Refinement at the Feet of Jesus At the core of this work is not skill, education, or even years of experience. Those things help, certainly. But the foundation must be a life continually refined at the feet of Jesus. It is in His presence—consistently, humbly, and quietly—that the counselor becomes who they are meant to be. Like Peter by the fire (John 18:15–18, 25–27), or Mary at His feet (Luke 10:38–42), or Paul in the quiet years after Damascus (Acts 9:1–19; Galatians 1:17–18), the soul must be shaped before the work of the hands can be holy. We are not simply behavior managers. We are image-bearers reflecting the light of Christ into dark and fractured places. And that means we must be remade—over and over again—until we reflect Him more clearly. Community: The Context for Formation You can practice every spiritual discipline there is—prayer, fasting, study, silence—but if you do it in isolation, you will miss something essential. The formation of the therapist, like the formation of the believer, is meant to happen in community. We need the body of Christ around us—mentors who will call us out, brothers and sisters who will bear our burdens, friends who will sharpen us like iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17). We need those who will say, That didn’t sound like Jesus, and those who will remind us of grace when we fall short. A Call to Be Always Becoming That young man, by God’s grace, had changed. He had overcome. He was doing what many thought he couldn’t. And in a single moment, I almost stole from him the dignity of that progress. He had been becoming. But so should I. We should always be inching closer to Christ. We should always be becoming more gentle, more kind, more respectful. Not out of obligation, but because our King is gentle, kind, and respectful. Because that’s what it means to shine His light. Final Reflection This work—Christian counseling, spiritual care, walking with the wounded—is sacred. And sacred work requires a sanctified heart. Not a perfect one. But one willing to be broken open and made new, again and again. So to you, fellow counselor, student, or spiritual leader: Sit at the feet of Jesus. Let Him refine what still needs changing. Do not scoff at growth, no matter how small. Practice the disciplines, yes. But also live in communion with others. And never forget: even the smallest victories in your clients' lives deserve your awe, not your cynicism. Because in the Kingdom of God, reckless drivers still get licenses. And scoffing counselors still get sanctified. References The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. (2001). Crossway Bibles. (Original work published 1971) Acts 9:1–19 — Paul’s conversion and encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus Galatians 1:17–18 — Paul’s time in Arabia before beginning public ministry John 18:15–18, 25–27 — Peter’s denial of Jesus beside the fire Luke 10:38–42 — Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet while Martha works Proverbs 27:17 — “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.”
3
When Therapists Feel Like Hypocrites
When the Therapist Feels Like a Hypocrite: A Reflection on Imperfection, Humility, and Sanctification Andrew R. Wichterman, Ph. D., LPC There are many days as a therapist when I feel like a giant hypocrite. I sit across from clients teaching emotional regulation techniques that I myself struggle to implement consistently. I guide clients and students alike in the practice of spiritual disciplines that I often neglect in the chaos of my own life. I speak about parenting strategies with conviction while feeling the sting of failure from moments with my own children. And there are days—more than I care to admit—when I come home not as a teacher, but as a student, having learned more from my clients than they may have learned from me. Of course, I remain ethical. I don’t disclose unnecessarily. I don’t blur the boundaries of the therapeutic relationship. But there are moments when the silence between words is filled with conviction. I hear a client describe their pain, and I realize I’ve inflicted that same pain—perhaps unknowingly—on my own family. Or I listen to their courage and I see the cowardice in my own avoidance. Their reflections become a mirror, and the image staring back at me is not as whole as I wish it were. At times, I wonder if I’m a fraud. I teach and model practices that I fail to perfect. I speak about peace when I’m battling anxiety. I help others find freedom from trauma while still bearing scars of my own. Am I a hypocrite? Maybe Not a Hypocrite—Just Human The deeper truth is this: I’m not perfect. I can’t practice every single technique I teach. I can’t master every discipline I recommend. One client comes in with depressive symptoms, another with trauma, another with panic—and I cannot possibly embody the full treatment plan for each in my own life at all times. What I’m beginning to realize is that my issue may not be hypocrisy—it may be perspective. I hold myself to a standard of perfection that is neither biblical nor humanly possible. I confuse the call to holiness with the burden of flawlessness. I forget that grace is not just a tool I teach—it is the air I breathe. James 3:1 and the Heavy Weight of Leadership There is a verse that sometimes bothers me. It’s James 3:1: “Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly” (NIV). This verse doesn’t merely warn against arrogance; it confronts the gravity of spiritual and moral leadership. The Greek word for “teacher” (didaskalos), as explained in The Anchor Bible Commentary (Davids, 2006), carried significant weight in both Jewish and early Christian communities. Teachers were esteemed for their influence and were entrusted with the formation of others. Yet with that influence came profound responsibility and the potential for profound harm. R. Kent Hughes points out that James immediately follows this verse with an extended treatment of the tongue—our words, which is no accident. Teaching is a ministry of words, and words can both build and destroy. D.A. Carson echoes this emphasis in his broader theological writings, reminding us that gospel teachers are called not merely to instruct but to embody what they teach. The integrity of our lives must match the weight of our doctrine. When it doesn’t, we risk turning truth into performance. John Calvin warns that no one who teaches can do so carelessly or without vigilance. He candidly admits that even the most diligent teacher will falter. But Calvin encourages us to let our awareness of failure drive us into greater dependence on the grace of God—not away from the work of teaching, but deeper into its humbling demands. Similarly, J.C. Ryle observes that it is not our perfection that qualifies us to teach, but our possession of Christ. This is echoed by Alistair Begg, who warns of the subtle pride that can creep into the desire to lead. Leadership in the church or counseling room must be rooted in humility, shaped by repentance, and continually surrendered to Christ. Together, these insights paint a cohesive picture. James isn’t forbidding the act of teaching (and perhaps in my case, counseling and teaching)—he is cautioning us to approach it with seriousness, humility, and a sober awareness of our own weakness. We are not expected to be perfect, but we are expected to be accountable, receptive to correction, and deeply dependent on the One we represent. So, What Am I Really? Maybe I’m not a hypocrite. Maybe I’m just a wounded healer, a teacher in need of teaching, a shepherd who still limps. Maybe I’m just a human who is still healing—while helping others do the same. The truth is, I cannot hold up the expectations of every client, every student, every child, every peer, or even my own soul. But I can surrender them to Christ. He is the only one capable of carrying the weight of my imperfection. What If It’s Not About Me? The deepest invitation I sense today is not to become more perfect, but to become more surrendered. Do I give God control of my family, my therapy work, my finances, my emotions, and my calendar? Not often enough. But when I do, I find peace. When I stop trying to uphold the image of the perfect therapist or model Christian and instead let Christ be my righteousness, something in me exhales. I realize I was never supposed to carry the full weight of others' healing—or my own. I’m a vessel, not the source. A Longing for Wholeness, Met by Grace I long for the day when I have it all together. But that day won’t come in this life. Sanctification is a lifelong road. Someday, people may call me “wise” or even “saintly.” But it won’t be because I finally mastered the disciplines or never lost my temper or always led perfectly. It will be because Christ did His work in me despite myself. It will be because grace filled the cracks that I couldn’t mend. Final Thoughts for Therapists Who Struggle To every counselor, pastor, parent, teacher, and leader who feels the sting of imperfection: you are not alone. You are not a hypocrite if you fall short while striving toward truth. You are only a hypocrite if you pretend you don’t. Let us not be people who teach without learning, or lead without following. Let us be people who know our desperate need for Jesus, and out of that need, offer hope to others. Even in the storm. Even when we’re still hurting. Especially then. References Carson, D. A. (2000). New Bible Commentary (21st Century Edition). Inter-Varsity Press. Davids, P. H. (2006). The Epistle of James (The Anchor Yale Bible Commentaries). Yale University Press. Hughes, R. K. (1991). James: Faith That Works (Preaching the Word). Crossway. Calvin, J. (1855). Commentaries on the Catholic Epistles. Calvin Translation Society. Ryle, J. C. (1878). Practical Religion. Charles Nolan Publishers.