Confession #2 - I Manipulated You

Photo by John Price (Unsplash)

Remember those fantastic church services?

The worship band played only the hippest, upbeat songs. You danced your heart out, and others around you would clap, sing, and be utterly joyous. Pastor So-and-So would come out, tell a few jokes, give you the weekly announcements, and then take up the offering. The band would return and begin a transition into more emotional ballads. After 15 minutes of singing your heart out to Jesus, I would enter the stage to begin my sermon. Typically, I would start with scripture, but somehow end up sharing with you intimate personal stories from my family. Or maybe I would show a video about a man running out of the stands to carry his son across a finish line in a race he was bound to be last in, just to bolster my point on perseverance. By the time I was done speaking, you would be enraptured. At this point, I could ask anything in the name of God, and you would most likely acquiesce. I would ask you to ponder something. Maybe re-examine your life over the last week or the state of your heart. In a cloud of smoke, I would leave the stage, and the band would return. Again, they would play softly in the background. You would dwell on your own life and make promises to God. As tears stream down your cheeks, you would vow yet again to give all to Him. Someone from the band would ask, “How many of you feel the need to rededicate your life to Christ? How many of you want to follow the path HE has set for you and never veer off again? How many of you want to give your heart to Jesus TODAY, forsaking ALL others?” You would hear the pleas of “Yes Lord, Me” and open your eyes in time to see hands going up all over the room. From the back of the room, ushers would emerge with a pencil in one hand and a small piece of paper in the other, ready to count the raised hands in their assigned section. Then I would re-enter and lead us all in a time of prayer.

After being dismissed, there would be only one thing left to ponder… “Where should we eat?” As a pastor, it’s my job to get you to a place where your heart is malleable. To do this, I use my own dramatic gifts and natural charisma along with an expert team of worship leaders, lighting techs, and the good folks at YouTube to craft an atmosphere that allows for more emotional decisions. You may be saying to yourself, “But that was my decision; you didn’t force me!” And you would be right, I did not force you, but I also did NOT rely on the Word of God or the Holy Spirit alone to convince you. I felt I needed to help. I arranged the music in a way that your senses would be enticed. I had the lighting crew change the color of the lighting when it was time to go deeper and become more reflective. I added emotional illustrations and videos that would encourage the decision I wanted you to make. Then, I asked the question, “Do you want to be saved?” or “Will you rededicate your life to Jesus today?”

Do you know why I ask those questions? Because as your pastor, this is how my peers and supervisors will grade me. It’s about the numbers. You know that, right? For me to keep my job as your pastor, I have to produce. I need people getting saved, baptized, and rededicated. Without those numbers, how else would people know how to judge me? It’s only partially about the call of God these days. I am asked those questions on a monthly basis and enter them into my monthly report along with how much money I received. It is from these reports my supervisor can and will judge my ministry as a success or failure. In short, for me to be a success, you have to be emotionally moved… and then counted. I call this “Confessional Manipulation.”

As much as pastors preach “do not judge,” we do a pretty bang-up job of judging each other. At monthly meetings, you can be guaranteed to hear these two questions floating around the meeting table: “How big is your church?” or “How many people got saved last Sunday?” The answers to these questions will determine where you will sit and who will talk to you for the remainder of the luncheon. If I tell them I have a church well over 1,000 or that over 50 got saved, you can bet I will be bombarded with questions about my church growth plans and evangelism techniques. Pastors with pens in hand and notebooks open will come sit at my feet and demand to know what books I have read, what pastors I listen to, or what specific ideas I could give them so they too could have the “success” I have had. If, however, I only have a church of 50 and no one made a commitment last Sunday, I will be ushered to the back table to be alone with my thoughts, or it may be suggested that I too “go talk to a successful pastor.” 

With insecurity mounting and the thought of sitting alone at yet another pastors' meeting, I begin to think of ways to garner decisions for Christ. And now it’s all about the numbers, not the people. I plan “life-changing” events every week, but for most, the commitments only last a short time. It’s fake and it’s shallow, and these events only serve to bolster my numbers. Weeks later, those manipulated to make decisions at these events wonder why they even made those declarations to God in the first place. They can’t remember because it wasn’t God moving them; it was me.

There are moments when I dream of a time when it’s all about Jesus and His message. Pure and unadulterated.  I attended one such conference years ago. The speaker entered the stage with no lights, no special music, and with just a stool. As she sat down on the stool, she opened her Bible and began reading in Revelation. Yes, Revelation! She never paused to add commentary or an illustration; she just read it straight through. In the end, she didn’t ask for any response. We all just went back to our rooms. In all the conferences I have attended, with all of the notable speakers I have heard, I have never been more touched by God than at that moment. What happened to me at that conference has impacted my life, and I will never forget it, and that’s how I know it was God. 

In most cases, a confessional manipulation can, at best, impact us for a few weeks and will be long forgotten within a year. But know this: when the Holy Spirit convicts, it’s lasting. When you make a decision based on what He reveals to you through Scripture and not because an army of others is manipulating a decision out of you, it’s personal. You just had a real moment with God, one you can build a life on and take to the bank. But those moments usually happen in the closed, quiet times of devotions, where there are no bands, no lights, no charismatic preacher, just you and God. 

But I can’t count those.