Man. This one hurt.
I’m a child of the ’80s and ’90s, raised in a Christian household where DC Talk wasn’t just a band, it was part of the soundtrack of my life! Their songs were included in my mixtapes (remember those?), played on repeat on my boombox (remember those?), and embedded into the background of my formative years. I followed the solo careers of TobyMac, Michael Tait, and Kevin Max long after the band split, cheering them on like they were old friends.
So when the news about Michael Tait surfaced recently (if you haven’t heard by now, just Google it), it felt like a gut punch. A personal betrayal. Not just disappointment, but that strange ache you feel when someone you looked up to stumbles. Cue one of my favorite DC Talk songs…
It reminded me of the heartbreak I felt hearing about Ravi Zacharias. Then Bill Hybels. Then Bruxy Cavey. In some ways it's tempting to feel like it's “just another one in a long line.” But that resignation is dangerous. These aren’t just headlines. These are people, and they’ve impacted lives, for better and for worse.
For years, I believed that influence for God scaled with platform: big stages, big books, big followings. I personally wasn’t chasing fame per se, but I admired those who seemed to be using it for good. When you see someone reaching thousands (or millions!) with the message of Jesus, it’s hard not to think that it’s an unqualified good.
But over the last 15 years, the sheen has worn off. Time and time again we’ve seen what happens when the platform outgrows the character holding it up.
That’s why these words from 17th-century theologian John Owen hit with such force today:
“A minister may fill his pews, his communion roll, the mouths of the public, but what that minister is on his knees in secret before God Almighty, that he is and no more.”
It doesn’t matter how many followers you have. It doesn’t matter how many people listen to your sermons, stream your albums, quote your books, or repost your reels. In the end, all that really matters is who you are when no one else is watching—when it’s just you and God.
That quote convicts me. It challenges me to check my heart, my motives, and my own hunger for recognition. We live in a culture obsessed with visibility. Whether you’re a pastor or just a person with a smartphone, everything urges us to be seen, followed, admired.
But we were never meant to get people to follow us. Our calling is to help people follow Jesus.
So I pray that God will keep me grounded, keep me honest, and keep me small (so far so good on that front anyway!).
Lord, have mercy. On me, on us, and on a world that’s confused visibility with virtue. Whatever we are in secret before You, that we are, and no more.