In too many churches, “above reproach” has become code for *keep your mess hidden*.
It’s the pastor who makes sure to mention how “hot his wife is” so no one questions their marriage.
It’s the leader who carries the pain of everyone else’s lives but deals with his own by locking it behind spiritual clichés: *just praying through it*, *just trusting God*, *just leaning on the Word*—while silently unraveling.
It’s the image of control. The performance of maturity. The kind of integrity that holds up in a spotlight, but not in a mirror.
And we wonder why so many fall hard. Why others quietly disappear. Why those who stay often feel like frauds.
The Apostle Paul’s words to Timothy and Titus—*that a leader must be “above reproach”*—weren’t about protecting the Church’s brand. They weren’t about looking good enough that no one asks hard questions.
They were a call to live a life held in the light.
Not a spotless life.
A *seen* life.
A life marked not by the absence of struggle—but by the refusal to hide it.
We’ve turned “above reproach” into a PR strategy.
Paul meant it as an integrity strategy.
And there’s a world of difference between those two things.
Here’s what no one tells you:It’s easier to preach about sin than to confess your own doubts.
It’s easier to talk about grace than to admit you still desperately need it.
It’s easier to create a persona people admire than to offer them the person you actually are.
But if “above reproach” means pretending we’re sure about everything, settled on everything, victorious in everything—then let’s stop pretending this is about Jesus. That’s just religious performance with better branding.
The integrity Paul describes isn’t a pristine display case.
It’s a cracked jar of clay that holds a treasure so beautiful, so real, that it changes everything.
What if we taught leaders that integrity isn’t being beyond correction, but being the *first* to invite it?
What if it’s not about living a life that *withstands* the light—but one that’s *already in it*?
I’m talking about a pastor who can say, “I’m not sure how to interpret that passage yet.”
“I’m still working through the grief of what I thought I believed.”
“There are days I wonder if I still want to do this.”
That’s not weakness.
That’s *courage*.
That’s above reproach.
I’ve lived the other version. The one where I carried my own struggles in secret. Where I led in public and unraveled in private. Where I talked about transformation while wondering if mine was actually happening. Where I thought “maturity” meant having no cracks, when all it really meant was hiding them better.
And if I’m honest, the most dangerous parts of my story weren’t the sins I committed. It was the shame I carried that told me I wasn't enough to be loved because I committed them.
And yet, one of my favorite verses has always been Romans 5:8
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
That’s what we’ve built in too many circles:
A system where it’s safer to fake holiness than to walk honestly with Jesus. A culture where leaders burn out trying to meet the expectations of people who’ve confused image with faithfulness. A stage where vulnerability is only allowed once it’s been neatly packaged into a testimony.
But what if “above reproach” was never about impressing anyone?What if it’s not about silencing what others might question—but owning it before they even ask?
What if the highest standard of leadership wasn’t perfection—but presence? The courage to show up, blemishes and all, in the light of God’s mercy and say: “This is who I am. And Jesus is still not done with me.”
I want to follow leaders like that. Leaders who don’t trade honesty for influence or a paycheck. Leaders who see their success as God's child not in the numbers that gather around their voice. Leaders who bleed the gospel, not just quote it. Leaders who know that holiness isn’t about being polished—it’s about being *held* by the One who is.
So if you’re a leader carrying a story you’ve been too afraid to tell, this is your invitation:
Let it into the light.
Not when it’s finished.
Now.
That’s integrity. That’s trust. That’s above reproach.
And that’s the Church I want to help rebuild.