I will admit that, in my 11 years of full-time ministry, there were times when I would hear about various mega-churches and sigh a teeny sigh of envy. The multi-site campuses, the thousands and thousands of members, the seemingly unlimited budgets, the staggering growth, the dynamic programing, the Sunday morning multi-camera worship extravaganza, the Disney-like children’s wing, the massive ministry staffs—who wouldn’t want these things, if so many people were being reached for Jesus? What ministers wouldn’t want all these resources at our fingertips?

One of the most famous megachurches was Mars Hill in Seattle, Washington. Mars Hill was known for all of these things and more, including original worship music every Sunday, being the trailblazer for a massive online following, controversial and conservative preaching, and just an uber-explosion of growth in a city known for being anti-Christian. From 2014 on though, Mars Hill was known for its stunning and sudden collapse that seemed to happen overnight. The collapse and fall-out was the incentive behind the podcast The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill, produced by Christianity Today and hosted by Mike Cosper. According to Christianity Today, the official description is as follows: 

"The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill podcast tells a dramatic story about a controversial megachurch in Seattle and the charismatic pastor who built it. The podcast is about fame, faith, and power converging in Mark Driscoll, one of the country's first internet celebrity pastors.” 

Maybe I’m the last one to listen to this 15-episode podcast, but I was completely fascinated—and equally horrified—by the whole thing. I plowed through all 15 episodes as fast as I could. My communication-evangelist self couldn’t look away from all the dynamics responsible for the rise and the fall of this mega-church. I’m forever changed just by listening to part of the story, knowing that only the major players and pivotal events were featured in the podcast. Among the thousands and thousands of members, every single individual had their own experience during the rise and fall of Mars Hill.

By the last episode, I was on my knees, grateful that I’d never experienced success like Mars Hill in any part of my life, especially ministry. As much as I fought against it, I will confess that my definition of success was not as Jesus-centered as it needed to be. Numbers are easy to measure and a sure sign that things are going well, right? I mean, I knew that with my brain, those two things didn’t necessarily go together, and that I allowed a skewed definition to have too much power at times. But wow: the story of Mars Hill really brings that lesson home. All kinds of bad stars were lining up for that organization concerning power, decision making, and pushing out dissenters; yet because the numbers were huge, they were lulled into thinking that God’s blessings were upon them. Possibly against our jaded expectations from far too many fallen famous ministers, there were no reports of adultery, or illegal sexually predatory behaviors in the podcast. That kind of behavior is easily understood as sin, and we’ve all experienced how that tears up a family when these moral failings become public knowledge.  Far more camouflaged, it seems Mars Hill was blindsided by the consequences of how fame, faith, and power affected their church family and how their leader, Mark Driscoll, would get so badly off track.

What stood out the most is how badly people who poured out their blood, sweat, and tears for this church, and specifically Mark Driscoll, were hurt. Driscoll was considered an elder, and once his leadership was put on trial as unbiblical, he resigned without warning and that’s when the church imploded. Their stories of abandonment, disillusionment, are completely heartbreaking. They are forever changed from deep wounds that might or might not heal, might or might not survive, with any shred of faith. 

Fame is notoriously unwieldy, and in hindsight—always 20/20—it’s easy to see how success became the god. Sadly, it’s completely understandable and I think very few could withstand its siren song. I certainly wouldn’t trust myself in the same situation. It’s too easy to put emphasis on misleading evidence of success and to let Jesus’ definition of leadership get hijacked. I think that’s too seducing at any point, let alone if someone seems to have the “Midas touch” of ministry, as Mark Driscoll did. 

I came away from this cautionary tale feeling grateful for ministers who aren’t famous, who are simply trying their best to be obedient to God, and who serve an audience of one, the I AM. I’m grateful for the countless times I couldn’t sleep, so worried about making Godly decisions as a church leader. I’m grateful for the bruises that I have after being abandoned by some who couldn’t/wouldn’t worship with me for one reason or another. I’m grateful for the insecurity of never knowing exactly what to do or how to do it. Now, I can see how those doubts prevented any prayer of ministry arrogance. Years later, I’m grateful for the internal and external criticism. Yes, it was completely personal every time, and I’m sure I’m still learning lessons of needed humility from those experiences. I’m grateful for standing up as a female on Sunday morning while wondering who didn’t want me there. I’m grateful for being nervous about speaking up and doing it anyway. I’m grateful for all the years of being uncomfortable and being dependent on this daily prayer, “God have mercy on my soul.” My awesome people always outranked the ministry difficulties, though, and on my worst day, I still wanted to minister to that church and would still be there had my husband not landed his dream job that required a move.

Today, ministers, staff, elders, volunteers, I’m so grateful for you and how you are walking with your people despite a difficult church landscape. I’m grateful that you are motivated by obedience, and that you are leading by serving. By not being famous, you are in such good company with our beloved prophets, who certainly experienced the same frustrations we do, and then some. As I’ve been reminded over and over during the last few months of studying the prophets, God’s plan of redemption is powerful, a solid promise, and a far, far cry from the often-hijacked definition of success. God’s plan of redemption is for the faithful, not the psuedo-successful. As it says in Micah 7:18-20,

Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea. You will be faithful to Jacob, and show love to Abraham, as you pledged on oath to our ancestors in days long ago.

I’ll close with these words from Micah 6:8, because they serve as a great job description for any believer and surely as the best defense against the siren song of success:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.