The Echo Chamber Preacher

Brother, I know why you do what you do. You stand strong, you preach hard, and you think you are doing it for God. You feel the weight of keeping everyone in line. You want to protect the truth. You want to be counted faithful. And if you are honest, you also like the applause of the ones who cheer you on. You enjoy being the one who says what everyone else is too afraid to say. It makes you feel needed, maybe even special.

But let me tell you something straight. You are drinking from the wrong well. You are getting your motivation from fear and applause instead of love. That is why your words come out mean and sharp. That is why you preached ugly. Your friends wanted you to say what they would not. They pushed you into it. And when the time came, those same friends said they never liked it either. They left you holding the weight, abandoned and ashamed.

That is what happens when our motivation comes from the wrong place. The applause of men is a cheap fuel. It burns hot, but it burns out. And it leaves you empty, bitter, and alone.

Brother, God never asked you to carry that. He never told you to perform for your friends. He never called you to speak to impress your group. He called you to rest in Him. He called you to love. He called you to reflect Christ, not the harsh expectations of your circle.

Do you remember Elijah under the juniper tree? He thought he was the last faithful one left, holding the line while the rest of the nation fell into compromise. But God told him there were seven thousand who had not bowed the knee. Elijah was not as alone as he thought. And neither are you. You are not the last man standing. You are not the only one guarding the truth. Your words or your courage do not hold together the kingdom of God. Christ holds it together.

Paul said, “I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief.” That was me. That is you. Mercy does not excuse sin, but it runs to meet us in our blindness. Even when you preach sharp and ugly, mercy does not leave you. Jesus prayed for the soldiers as they nailed Him to the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” That is the prayer He prays over you.

The truth is, you thought you were preaching for God, but you were really preaching for your group. You thought you were holding the line, but you were holding up your reputation. You thought you were loving, but love does not tear people down. Love restores. Love heals. Love gives life.

And here is the kicker. You thought you were alone, the last one standing. Like Elijah under the juniper tree, convinced he was the only prophet left who had not bowed to Baal. But God told him there were seven thousand who had never bowed the knee. Elijah was not as alone as he thought, and neither are you. The kingdom is not hanging by a thread. You are not the last man left.

Brother, stop feeding on applause and calling it faithfulness. Stop mistaking the roar of your circle for the voice of the Spirit. The mark of discipleship is not controversy. It is not applause. It is not being the sharpest in the room. Jesus said, “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” If it is not love, it is not Him.

And here is the test. Will you forgive? Will you forgive the ones who pushed you to be harsh? Will you forgive the ones who clapped while you burned? Will you forgive the ones who later turned on you and said they never liked it? Forgiveness does not excuse them. It frees you. Until you forgive, you are chained to them. Forgive, and you walk free.

And when you forgive, joy comes back. Not the thrill of stirring up a crowd, not the rush of being applauded, but the steady joy of being God’s child. Grace puts the smile back on your face. It softens your tone. It makes you approachable. Your family will feel it first. They will breathe easier. They will see Christ in you again.

Brother, lay it down. Lay down the burden of being God’s defender. Lay down the need for applause. Lay down the role of watchdog. God is God. He will keep His truth. He will guard His church. He will carry you, even in your blind spots.

The sheep do not need a watchdog. They need a shepherd. And the Shepherd has already come. His yoke is easy. His burden is light. His forgiveness is total. His grace is joyful. And His mercy is enough to carry you all the way home.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one… But in that casket safe, dark, motionless, airless it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves