When Power Replaces Pastors: Matthew 4:8-10

Jesus has not preached a sermon yet. No miracles. No healings. No followers. No brand. No crowd chanting his name. And before he ever opens his mouth publicly, Satan takes him up high and says, Look at all of this. Every kingdom. Every system. Every seat of influence. I will give it to you.

All you have to do is bow.

That matters. Because the temptation was not to do something evil, it was to take a shortcut to something good. Authority without obedience. Impact without sacrifice. Visibility without vulnerability. A crown without a cross.

That is still the most dangerous temptation facing the church.

Jesus does not argue theology. He does not ask clarifying questions. He does not try to redeem the offer. He simply says no and walks back down the mountain.

That mountain did not disappear. It just changed clothes.

Today, the mountain may look like access. Endorsements. Invitations to exclusive rooms. Platforms that promise reach but quietly demand silence. Numbers that look impressive but come with strings attached. Influence that works as long as you do not disrupt the comfort of the powerful.

Somewhere along the way, some churches have confused being close to power with being close to God.

We wanted seats at tables instead of towels around our waist.
We wanted influence instead of integrity.
We wanted to win instead of being faithful.

And the moment pastors-teachers start sounding more like politicians with Bible verses, people stop trusting the shepherd. Sheep know when they are being managed instead of loved.

Let me make it plain. The church does not lose credibility when it loses power. It loses credibility when it refuses to tell the truth while holding power.

I remember a pastor I knew early in ministry. Solid preacher. Loved the people. But he got invited into a circle he had always dreamed about. Big donors. City leaders. Photo ops. Suddenly, his sermons changed. Not drastically. Just subtly. No more naming injustice. No more challenging systems. No more uncomfortable truth. Everything was “wisdom” now. Everything was “timing.”

One day, after service, an older woman pulled him aside. She had been in that church for decades. She said, “Baby, I still hear God in you. But I do not hear courage anymore.”

That sentence will preach you into repentance.

Every leader has to decide who they are really accountable to: Jesus or the room. The Spirit or the applause. The call or the check.

Big is not always blessed. Loud is not always anointed. Growth without depth is just inflation. Faithfulness often looks small, slow, and costly. And sometimes obedience means learning how to say no even when the opportunity looks like answered prayer.

Because every yes costs you something. Sometimes it costs your voice. Sometimes your integrity. Sometimes your soul.

Jesus saved the world without ever holding office, controlling a system, or cutting a deal with an empire. He chose the long road. The lonely road. The faithful road.

That should humble every one of us who claims to lead in his name.

The question for the church in 2026 is not whether we can gain power again. The question is whether we can be trusted if we do.