There’s something happening in the modern church that we don’t like to talk about, but I think it’s time we do. Somewhere along the way, ministry drifted into something it was never meant to be. Instead of shepherds laying down their lives for the sheep, we’ve got too many examples of shepherds expecting the sheep to lay down their wallets for the shepherd.

And I’m not talking about pastors being cared for. Scripture calls the church to do that. A pastor who works tirelessly, studies faithfully, teaches truthfully, and leads with integrity should not struggle to feed his family. That’s biblical. But in some corners of the church world, something has shifted from provision to entitlement. The attitude isn’t “thank you,” it’s “you owe me.” And that, right there, is the beginning of rot in the pulpit.

You’ve probably seen it. The pastor who thinks the church should upgrade his car because, “Well, the man of God shouldn’t drive something old.” Or the one who hints that the church should buy him a bigger home because “the pastor needs a house fitting his anointing.” And of course, we’ve all seen the extremes — the pastors asking for Rolex watches, designer wardrobes, even private jets. Jets. As if the Great Commission hinges on the quality of their cabin pressure.

If you ever wonder how far human pride can stretch, just look at a man holding a Bible in one hand and a multimillion-dollar jet in the other, telling widows and single moms to “sow a seed.” That is not ministry. That is manipulation dressed in church clothes.

But here’s the thing: The outrageous examples are easy to point at. The everyday drift is harder to see. It happens quietly. Slowly. A pastor starts to believe his comfort is part of his calling. He starts thinking the congregation should feel responsible for giving him a lifestyle that looks impressive instead of one that looks like Jesus. And little by little, the focus shifts from the flock to the pastor, from the mission to the man, from the Kingdom to the kingdom he’s trying to build for himself.

And somewhere in that drift, something else sneaks in. The pastor who starts to treat “missions” as a spiritual justification for personal escape. Trips that cost thousands, that produce very little lasting fruit, but come with great photos and great stories. Trips where the airfare alone could have fed hundreds, or supplied Bibles to entire regions, or funded local pastors on the ground who live the mission every single day. These become two-week getaways paid for with Kingdom dollars — offerings given by people who assume their money is fueling ministry, not subsidizing someone else’s adventure.

And again, this isn’t about never traveling. It’s not about condemning genuine missions. God absolutely calls people to go. But He calls them to go for the work, not the experience. He calls them to go to serve, not to sightsee. If a trip bears more selfies than spiritual fruit, we need to stop pretending it’s missions.

Because here’s the truth: Pastors are called to shepherd the flock God placed right in front of them. To live among the people they serve. To walk the streets of their own city. To preach in their own neighborhoods. To disciple their own congregations. To invest in the hurting and struggling in the places God put them.

As a pastor myself, my calling is simple. I shepherd the people God has entrusted to me. I live within the means He provides. I refuse to reach for luxuries under the excuse of “ministry benefits.” I don’t need a church-bought car, a church-bought home, or a church-financed lifestyle elevation. I’m not entitled to anything. I’m entrusted with everything. My job is to steward, not indulge. To serve, not be served. To give, not demand.

And when God blesses, as He often does, those blessings aren’t permission to float above the flock — they’re fuel to pour into the Kingdom. Scripture never once calls a shepherd to live above his sheep. Jesus Himself — the Chief Shepherd — lived with His disciples, walked the dust with them, ate with them, and ministered among them. Paul worked with his own hands so he wouldn’t burden the church. Every biblical leader modeled sacrifice, not luxury.

So if we’re going to restore integrity to the pulpit, it starts here: Pastors must stop expecting what God never commanded the church to give. They must stop chasing comfort under the banner of calling. They must stop using missions as a cover for personal desire. And they must remember that the offerings God’s people bring are holy. They come from single moms, retirees on fixed incomes, blue-collar workers, widows with mites, families who trust God more than their own math.

The money of the Kingdom is not play money for pastors. It is sacred. It is sacrificial. And it must be handled with trembling hands.

My prayer is simple: that God raises up pastors who aren’t addicted to lifestyle, applause, or opportunity, but are addicted to obedience. Pastors who live within their means. Pastors who choose integrity over indulgence. Pastors who would rather die than misuse God’s money. Pastors who look at their congregation and see not donors, but disciples. Not a funding source, but a family. Not a platform, but a people to love.

Because ministry is not about me. It’s not about perks. It’s not about trips or toys or titles.
It’s about Christ.
It’s about the cross.
It’s about shepherding whoever God puts in front of us — faithfully, humbly, and with clean hands.

If the church can get back to that, maybe the world will finally see again what a real shepherd looks like.