11 July 2025

Unbelieving Christian leaders.

Years ago I listened to a Christian podcast in which the host interviewed an ex-pastor, whom I’ll call Trophimus. (Honestly, I didn’t change his name to protect the innocent; or in this case guilty. It’s because I just forgot his name.)

Trophimus had retired from ministry a few years before. Now he was writing books; this interview was to promote his book. Not as part of a publisher’s book tour; he was self-publishing, so he was self-promoting. The subject of his book? How he led his church for a full decade… despite the fact he no longer believed in God.

He wouldn’t call himself atheist. He’d say agnostic; he wasn’t sure God exists. Couldn’t feel or sense him. All the warm fuzzy feelings were gone. Bible and Christian literature were no help. And those Christian friends whom he shared his doubts with…

Ah, there’s the rub. Trophimus shared his doubts with no one. No counselors, no mentors, no close friends, not even his wife. I’m not sure he even talked with God about it—“Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” Mk 9.24 KJV I mean, it’s not like unbelievers never ever pray, when desperate. Maybe he didn’t feel desperate enough.

In any event Trophimus hid his doubts as best he could, went through the motions, and stuck out his job till he was ready to retire.

“So,” the podcast host bluntly said, “you were a hypocritical fraud for 10 years. Just doing it for the money.”

You could hear Trophimus bristle at that description. Absolutely not, he insisted. He wanted to believe again; really he did. He didn’t stay in his pastorate just for the money; he was hoping something might reactivate his faith. Maybe he’d see a miracle. Or hear God, or otherwise have a God-experience.

“You ever try the Pentecostals?” the host said; “plenty of God-stuff happens there.”

“No,” Trophimus chuckled. I’m guessing he never considered them. I’m Pentecostal, and to be blunt, some of us are mighty weird, so I get it. Still, if you claim you’re desperate for a God-experience, I’m gonna suspect your claims are entirely B.S. when you absolutely rule out continuationist churches where such experiences happen. But I digress.

Nonetheless, Trophimus figured being in ministry gave him a better-than-average chance of seeing God stuff. He’s not wrong, but in my experience it depends on what kind of ministry you’re doing. Are you working with seriously needy people, or are you only interacting with fairly comfortable rich people? If your people don’t have real needs, how’re you gonna witness God meeting needs? But that’s another digression.

“Okay,” said the host, “but you didn’t even tell your wife? You couldn’t trust her with your secret? For 10 whole years? She has to feel so betrayed.”

Yeah, this wasn’t a comfortable interview for Trophimus. He kept trying to justify himself, and the host was having none of it, and kept calling out his hypocrisy. I found it memorable because it was mighty cringey—and not very gracious, unfortunately. It was probably the very same judgmental response Trophimus feared the moment he outed himself.

But to be fair to the podcast host: For 10 whole years Trophimus committed spiritual fraud.

“It’s not hurting anyone.”

For 10 years Trophimus lied to his church about his relationship with Jesus. Taught ’em stuff he himself didn’t believe. Encouraged them to grow in faith, while he himself wasn’t growing at all. Studied the scriptures to crank out sermons—but since he didn’t believe, he didn’t strive to be personally challenged by the scriptures. Failing to be personally challenged by what you preach is a pretty common failing among preachers as well… and yeah, that’s another digression. I got a lot of ’em.

Because Trophimus didn’t trust God, he didn’t grow in faith, maturity, or good fruit. Grew instead away from faith, maturity, and good fruit. What other direction could he have grown? So he grew more faithless, more immature (as demonstrated by his pathetic self-justification in this podcast), and more bad fruit. More fleshliness. More stuff he had to hide from everyone in his church. And his wife.

For 10 years Trophimus hid the fact he was unqualified to be in Christian leadership. Someone else, someone who did trust God, should’ve had his job. But he stole that job from them.

And this scenario happens all the time. I’ve known a few ex-pastors, or people who used to be in ministry and now aren’t, who admitted to all this stuff. Sometimes to me personally, but more often they just start posting their unbelief on social media, and it horrifies and demoralizes everybody who used to go to church with ’em.

They started having doubts. Didn’t seek spiritual guidance from anyone lest they be condemned or excommunicated. Sometimes they still kinda believe in Jesus, but struggle; other times they quit Jesus in despair. Sometimes they conscientiously stepped away from ministry as soon as they realized their doubts were a problem; sometimes they did as Trophimus did and faked belief. Sometimes they faked it till their consciences could bear it no more; sometimes, because they were deliberately numb to their consciences, they sinned and got caught; but most often, they stayed in ministry till they felt like changing careers. Or till retirement. Or for the rest of their lives.

Yep, years and decades in ministry despite unbelief. Regardless of the fact they have no relationship with Jesus anymore. Trophimus made a comment that at least he was doing good works; his fraud didn’t hurt anyone.

Um… if the people of Trophimus’s former church got a chance to read his book or listen to this podcast, I guarantee you many of ’em would be very hurt to discover their ex-pastor was a fraud. And it might even throw them into their own faith crisis—“Is anything true?”—and sometimes even drive them away from Jesus as well.

No easy solution to the problem.

The reason I bring this up is ’cause someone sent me an email. He’s got an ex-pastor who’s been publicly deconstructing his beliefs on TikTok, and it hasn’t shaken his faith (yet), but it does bother him: How can someone who used to be so close to Jesus, just turn like this?

Well, not every Christian leader is close to Jesus. The angry preachers obviously, but plenty of pastors are deficient in good fruit and have rather public lapses of character. The rest have simply learned how to effectively look devout. Inoffensive behaviors, happy prayers, encouraging sermons, and they know tons of bible trivia. But they’ve never bothered to listen to the Holy Spirit, so all their prayers are unidirectional. They’ve never bothered to actually obey the Sermon on the Mount, nor act upon their Christian beliefs; it’s all hypothetical and academic. And very, very dead.

And they can get away with it ’cause their congregation is either full of newbies, or Christians with equally dead faith. Who are thrilled their pastor never spiritually challenges them. It’s why they picked that church!

The only way to detect a Christian leader who’s got a faith deficiency, is to get to know them. Of course if they’re aware they’re frauds, they absolutely don’t wish to be known. They’ll interact at church functions, but never outside them. They’ll use the excuse they’re busy, or need privacy, or they’re seriously introverted, or whatever gets people to bug off. It’s all the same garbage I used to do in my young hypocrite days; if you’ve ever been one yourself, you know exactly what they’re doing. That’s how you catch ’em: Show up unannounced, when they’re busy being their real selves.

But regardless of your pastor and Christian leaders: Their lapses of faith should never derail your trust in God. Your faith needs to stand up on its own, and needs to be based on Jesus alone. And if it’s not—if it’s dependent on how your pastor and fellow Christians are doing—stop that and start looking to Jesus. He’s supposed to be the cornerstone of your faith, Ep 2.20 not them.