From www.bobrussell.org October 5^th

Last week I spoke at The Billy Graham Training Center in Asheville, North Carolina, and learned something surprising about Billy Graham that brought me much comfort. Gigi, Billy’s daughter, greeted those who had come to “The Cove”—a scenic location in the Blue Ridge Mountains—for a three-day spiritual retreat. She said, “People often ask me to share insider information about my parents that most people don’t know. My mother, Ruth, was a character. She was always playing jokes and laughing. And she was quite outspoken. What few knew about my dad was that he was a hypochondriac! He was always fretting about something that was physically wrong with him.”

Gigi continued, “In their later years I once asked my mother how she was feeling and she responded that she was doing well for a woman her age. Then I made the mistake of asking Daddy how he was. He went on and on describing everything that was wrong with him from head to toe. When he was finally finished, my mother looked at him and quipped, ‘Why don’t you quit complaining and die like a Christian!’” All of us gathered at The Cove burst into laughter.

Why was it so funny—and comforting—to hear about Ruth Graham rebuking Billy? Most of us put Billy Graham on a spiritual pedestal and can’t imagine him needing correction. It’s comforting to learn he was a sinner just like us and his marriage had edgy times just like ours. That’s one reason the Bible tells us: “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed” (James 5:16).  We’re not comforted because greatness is dragged down; we’re comforted because grace is lifted up.

A lesson for preachers: be transparent with your congregation and admit your flaws. If you pretend to be perfect, people will admire you from a distance—temporarily. But if you confess your foibles, people will love you up close—permanently. It’s reassuring to know the people we respect as spiritual leaders have weaknesses because we are so aware of our own sins. We conclude, “Obviously God loves them and uses them, so maybe, by God’s grace, there’s hope for me.”

That’s one reason we are comforted by the apostle Paul’s confession: “For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing” (Romans 7:18–19). When I read that, I think, “Thank God! Even the great apostle Paul didn’t win every battle. Maybe there’s hope for me!”

One caution. Transparency and a touch of self-deprecating humor can build trust, but they require balance. If you continually cast yourself as the victim or always make yourself the punchline, you risk your credibility. I know a churchgoer who finally said, “Our preacher put himself down so often we began to believe the caricature.” When that happens, people start to wonder why they should listen to you. Radio preacher Steve Brown was known for candor. An elderly woman in his Key Biscayne, Florida, church told him, “Preacher, we’ve always had ministers who said they were sinners, but you’re the first one we’ve believed!” Confession needs to be tempered by discretion.

A lesson for congregations: don’t expect your minister to be perfect. Remember, “There is no one righteous, not even one” (Romans 3:10). Give your preacher a little slack. Don’t judge him by his worst moments. If you discover he lost his temper at a ballgame, got a speeding ticket, borrowed a sermon outline, was rude to his wife, or played golf for a Coke, remember Jesus’ blessing: “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy” (Matthew 5:7).

If you discern your preacher has a serious character flaw that causes you to lose respect and endangers his leadership, don’t gossip about him behind his back. Go to him personally. Galatians 6:1 instructs us, “Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted.”

John Foster was a much-respected elder and a dear friend. I once used a phrase in a sermon that he thought was inappropriate. I referred to a cohabiting couple as “shacking up,” which was common language in my upbringing. In John’s background that was vulgar. John—one of my biggest encouragers—came to me personally and said, “Bob, that phrase you used in your sermon last Sunday—‘shacking up’—that didn’t sound like a Bob Russell phrase.” Isn’t that kind and tactful? He didn’t say, “You offended me so much I couldn’t listen to another word!” Or, “I’m not the only one disappointed in you. I’ve talked to dozens of others who were just as shocked!” No, he said, “That just didn’t sound like something you’d normally say.”

Since John approached me gently, it was easier for me to receive his correction. I thanked him for his Christlike approach and then teased, “John, I assure you I won’t use that phrase again… when you’re in the audience!” He gave me additional grace and we laughed together. Our friendship lasted until the sad day he died. I still miss him.

Since God has forgiven us so much, let’s be eager to forgive. Only One lived a perfect life. Let’s extend grace to each other as sinners saved by grace. We don’t follow flawless men; we follow a flawless Savior who remakes flawed people—like you and me and even Billy Graham—flaws and all.

Bob Russell is Retired Senior Minister of Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, KY.