When I first said yes to the call of ministry, I didn’t picture ring lights, follower counts, or email algorithms.
I imagined a pulpit, not a platform. A sanctuary, not a stage. I pictured tables, living rooms, and hospital rooms. I thought I was saying yes to walking with people through the long, slow arc of spiritual transformation—birth, death, baptism, suffering, celebration.
I still believe that’s the heart of it.
But I’ve learned, like many of you, that we now live in what Mark Sayers calls a platform society—and that changes everything.
“Our society increasingly forms people through the dynamics of platform, rather than through the dynamics of formation.”
—Mark Sayers
In Platforms to Pillars, Sayers makes a stark but honest observation: formation has been traded for performance. Discipleship has been pushed to the margins while self-expression is celebrated as the highest good.
In my first year of ministry I submitted a book proposal to a publisher. They wrote back telling me to build a larger platform and following and then try again. I’ve come to realize this fact:
The pastor is no longer just a shepherd or theologian. Now, we are asked—often subtly, sometimes overtly—to be thought leaders, influencers, and content creators.
When Metrics Replace Fruit
There’s a subtle spiritual erosion that happens when we give in to this. When our sermons start getting shaped more by applause than by the quiet voice of God. When our pastoral identity starts to be measured in metrics—engagements, likes, shares— we are treading into dangerous territory. Rather, our identity must be shaped by the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, and peace. It should exude patience, kindness, and goodness. Our identity should reflect faithfulness, gentleness, and the ever so elusive self-control.
And here’s the hard truth: platform culture doesn’t just live on our screens.
It creeps into our souls.
We live in a world where charisma often overshadows character, or at worst, where character doesn’t matter.
I’ve felt this tension. Have you?
That temptation to say something “tweetable” instead of something true?
That slow drift toward performative vulnerability rather than honest confession?
That weariness that comes not just from the work, but from constantly feeling like you’re being watched, evaluated?
Not Famous. Faithful.
But here’s the good news: God’s Kingdom is not built on platforms. It’s built on pillars.
Not personalities, but people of depth. Not spectacle, but substance. And the Church doesn’t need more influencers. It needs more intercessors.
Over the past 3 years I have overseen more than 20 funerals. I remember each of them. What they all remind me is the subtle fact that the pulpit I’m blessed to occupy is held up by pillars.
Those pillars are the people who have poured their lives into the community of Fort Pierce and to First UMC Fort Pierce. They have made the hard decisions. They have prayed over, argued over, had committee meetings over all of the intricate realities that I enjoy daily. They have loved and cried in more abundant ways than I could ever imagine. My 3 years in the pulpit are supported by 133 years of people who have interceded on behalf of the church, the city, and the world.
That’s what I want to be. That’s who I want to become.
Not famous. Not flashy. Faithful.
I want to be someone who is slowly, painfully, joyfully being shaped into the image of Christ.
Someone whose hidden life in God is deeper than their visible life on stage.
And I think that’s the call for pastors today.
To resist the pressure of platform culture by cultivating an inner life that is strong, rooted, and real.
To shepherd communities not with performance, but with steadfast love.
To preach not for the camera, but for the Kingdom.
The Way of the Pillar
I’m learning to let go of the illusion of influence and embrace the way of the pillar.
It’s slower. It’s quieter. It’s harder.
But it’s holy.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s what the Church needs most right now.
Grace and Recovery 