When Leaders Fall... How to Stay Faithful to God When People Let You Down
- Carson Bruce
- Mar 18
- 11 min read
Hello! My name is Carson Bruce, the content creator and host of The Worship Keys Podcast. If I have not had the privilege of meeting you yet, I hope to one day.
In the world of AI, please know this was actually written by me. I use AI for podcast episode summaries and YouTube video chapter markers, but I won't be using it for this purpose. Just FYI. If you see any big words, I understand if you get a little suspicious... Anyway! Here we go!
There’s a moment in ministry that many of us don’t talk about enough.
The moment when someone you trusted, someone you looked up to, someone who helped shape your walk with God... falls.
And suddenly, everything feels shaky. Your theology. Your calling. Your sense of safety in the church or ministry role.
Maybe you’ve been there. Maybe you’re there right now.
How do we respond? How do we grieve? How do we positively move forward, even with failed trust? So many questions and so much real pain.
My Perspective
This one is personal.
Recently, a statement was released from a ministry that helped shape my faith in a very real way during my childhood. This wasn’t just another church or organization—it was a place where I encountered God in a real way. It’s where I learned how to go home and build a personal prayer closet. It’s where I learned how to pursue a genuine relationship with God—not just head knowledge, not just theology, but something real, personal, and alive.
This ministry often preached about awakening a generation—about not settling, not compromising, not living lukewarm. It carried a strong message: what you sow into this ministry, you will reap in your own life… even in your children.
And now… that same ministry is walking through something deeply painful.
One of its main leaders is facing sexual allegations from four years ago. In response, they have canceled their upcoming events to grieve, reflect, pray, and handle this situation appropriately.
And honestly? This situation deeply bothers me.
Because this isn’t just news. This isn’t just another headline, as we have seen these type of things before from time to time. This is something that hits closer to home for me.
This is from a voice I looked up to. This is coming from a ministry who shaped how I saw holiness, conviction, and what it meant to truly follow Jesus. A ministry that spoke boldly against sin, against compromise, against double standards, and now we’re faced with something that feels like the very thing they warned against.
And it creates a tension I can’t ignore: If what we sow into ministry is what we reap then how do we process what we’re seeing now?
Because even within the leadership of this ministry, there have been real and visible challenges—within families, within children, and now within leadership itself.
And I don’t say that to accuse. I say that because it’s confusing.
Because it confronts something deeper than just one situation. It confronts the reality that no ministry, no message, no level of influence makes someone immune to brokenness.
And if I’m honest, there’s a part of me that’s just plain disappointed.
Not in a loud, angry way.
But in a quiet, unsettled way.
The kind that makes you reflect and wrestle with questions like:
How do we expect the people we lead to follow Jesus’ way when we struggle to walk it ourselves?
And maybe the harder question:
Am I putting too much weight on people instead of Jesus?
Moments like this don’t just test leaders. They test all of us. They reveal what our faith is actually built on. And right now… I’m feeling that weight.
I can’t help but think about myself as a 12-year-old boy sitting in those services, wide-eyed, taking it all in, believing every word, feeling like I was stepping into something sacred, powerful, mystical, fresh, and honestly unlike the normal church experiences in my life up until that point.
That young version of me didn’t question much. He just trusted. He just believed. And now here I am at 28, with more life behind me, more nuance, more awareness of how broken people can be, even in sacred spaces. Things feel different now. Heavier. More complicated.
But I want to say (write) this. This is not a blog post to blast this ministry or to steer anyone away from the church institution. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
Because even in all of this, there’s something steady underneath it all. Even though my perspective has shifted, even though people have let me down, God has not wavered. Not once. And I feel the weight of that tension inside me; the tension between innocence and awareness, between trust and discernment, between disappointment and faith.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, I’m realizing that maybe this is what real faith looks like. Not blind, not naive, but anchored, tested, and still choosing to believe.
Tyler Richardson was a recent guest featured on my podcast, and we discuss the challenges of church leadership. This conversation will be beneficial to hear in addition to reading this blog post. I am better at interviewing people than writing a blog post, so continue to read at your own risk.
Watch our episode together:
The Pain No One Prepares You For
We love talking about calling.
We love altar calls, surrender moments, deliverances, chains breaking, revival breaking out, spontaneous songs, and “yes Lord” seasons.
But no one really prepares you for what happens after those big pivotal moments, when you’re actually in ministry, serving week after week and people disappoint you. Because they will.
Not just random people. Close people. Leaders. Pastors. Mentors. Parents.
As Tyler said in our conversation, we often learn theology but not how to deal with people. And people are indeed complicated.
Keeping Jesus at the Center of It All
One of the most powerful things Tyler said was this:
“I don’t want to give a powerful leader Jesus’ face… and I don’t want to give a fallen leader the devil’s face.”
That’s it. That’s the tension.
Because if we elevate leaders too high, their fall will crush us. And if we demonize them completely, we forget they’re human too.
But Scripture anchors us:
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” — Hebrews 13:8
How Do I Respond?
Let’s make this practical for a second.
1. Stay in conversation with God
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.” — Psalm 34:18
Don’t shut down. Keep talking to Him—even if it’s messy.
2. Separate God from people
God didn’t fail you. A person did.
That distinction will protect your faith.
3. Be honest about your hurt
Even David cried:
“How long, O Lord?” — Psalm 13:1
You don’t have to pretend.
The Hard Balance of Justice vs Mercy
We want accountability. We should want accountability.
But we also can’t forget mercy.
“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” — John 8:7
Tyler said in our convo:
“The mercy you give is the mercy you’ll need one day.”
This doesn’t excuse sin, but it keeps our hearts from becoming hard and too prideful along the way.
There’s a book called Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson that has stuck with me in a powerful way. It tells the story of people who were wrongly convicted, overlooked, and forgotten, most notably the case of Walter McMillian. Shout out to my wife for first recommending this to me a while back. I do believe it is a movie too, but I have not seen it. And honestly, I did not "read" the book. I listened to the audio book... pro tip! Anyway!
But what makes the book so impactful isn’t just the injustice; it’s the relentless belief that people are more than their worst moments and that mercy has the power to rewrite stories we would otherwise throw away. And honestly, when you read it (listen or watch it), you realize how easy it is to form opinions about people’s lives from a distance, without ever carrying the weight of their reality.
And I can’t help but connect that to the church world.
Because in many ways, we create our own versions of “courtrooms” in ministry culture. We hear a headline, we hear a failure, and we begin to build our case.
We decide who deserves grace and who doesn’t. Who can be restored and who should be removed forever. And while accountability absolutely matters, while justice matters, we have to ask ourselves a hard question:
Have we forgotten how powerful mercy actually is?
At the same time, Tyler Richardson’s book, How to Survive Working for God, has been such a needed voice in this conversation. It doesn’t ignore the pain.
It doesn’t pretend leadership failure doesn’t exist. But it gives language to something so many of us feel: how do you stay in love with Jesus when the people representing Him let you down? How do you keep your heart soft without becoming naive? How do you walk in wisdom and grace at the same time?
And if I’m being honest… It’s a lot easier to talk about mercy when it’s not personal.
It’s easy to say, “We should restore people.” Until it’s your church. Your leader. Your trust that’s been broken.
It’s easy to take pride in a long, healthy marriage until divorce hits your home.
It’s easy to take pride in your job until you’re the one getting fired.
It’s easy to take pride in raising your kids “the right way” until one of them walks away from God and the Church entirely.
And suddenly, everything you thought you understood about justice, fairness, and “doing the right things” gets shaken.
Because deep down, many of us carry this quiet belief: If I do things right… bad things won’t happen to me.
But life doesn’t work like that. And guess what? God's doesn't even work like that, just speaking from my own experience! Maybe that makes you uncomfortable or maybe that is giving you some freedom... Who knows!
That’s what makes this so difficult. Because when failure happens close to us, it forces us to confront not just someone else’s sin but our own assumptions, our own pride, and our own need for mercy.
And maybe that’s where this lands:
We don’t minimize sin. We don’t excuse wrongdoing. We don’t ignore justice.
But we also don’t forget that every single one of us is standing in need of mercy.
“Mercy triumphs over judgment.” — James 2:13
One day, we may need that mercy more than we ever expected.
On another personal note, there was a season of my life where I truly believed I had more influence and favor with God based on how much time I spent in my prayer closet.
Don’t get me wrong here. I still believe we should want to spend time with Jesus. This is a real relationship. It’s not casual. It’s not surface-level. It’s something to be pursued with intention, hunger, and love. Desire is the key word here, not obligation.
But somewhere along the way, my pursuit quietly turned into performance, and I really hate to even admit that part. I started treating my time with God like I was clocking in for a shift at Chick-fil-A. And hey, I was a GREAT Chick-fil-A employee. Ask anyone from my hometown during that time ;)
The longer I stayed, the more hours I logged, the more I sacrificed... the more I believed God would move because of me.
I knew, theologically, that I couldn’t earn salvation. I knew God loved me. But functionally? Deep down? I believed that revival in my school, breakthrough in my friends and family, and the movement of God around me was directly tied to how much time and energy I personally gave to Him. And I am literally crying writing this right now, realizing this.
Like somehow, if I prayed long enough, if I was consistent enough, if I pushed hard enough, if I fasted enough...
I could accomplish something for God.
And to be fair, I DID see fruit of God moving 100%.
I saw breakthrough. I saw moments that felt like revival. I saw God move in ways that were real and undeniable.
But now, looking back, I realize something that has completely changed how I live: God was never moving because of my hours logged. He was moving because He’s God and my identity is child of God. He calls me beloved and there's nothing that could ever break that connection, not just for salvation, but for the here and right now moments.
And honestly… my life now feels more freeing than it ever did then. Because I’m no longer carrying the weight of thinking everything depends on me.
I don’t have to strive to earn favor. I already have it. I don’t have to perform to unlock His presence. I’m already invited to enter right in.
I don’t have to sustain revival by my own effort; God moves in ways far beyond my control. I don't have to jump and dance for 30 minutes and sweat before God decides to encounter a worship service! But hey, I do like to move during worship! SHONDO! Anyway...
Big difference in now vs then: God can move despite me, not just because of me.
And that realization has taken pressure off my shoulders and placed my trust back where it belongs.
The Billy Graham Story
Tyler shared a story about Billy Graham that completely reframes this convo.
When a disgraced minister sat in prison, abandoned by everyone, Billy Graham showed up.
Not to correct him. Not to lecture him.
But to sit with him. To hug him. To say, “I’m so sorry.”
That’s the heart of Jesus.
“Bear one another’s burdens.” — Galatians 6:2
The Truth We Cannot Lose!
At the end of all of this… after the disappointment, after the confusion, after the tension we carry in our hearts… we’re left with one question:
Is God still worth it?
Is He still worth it?
Despite the disappointment? Despite what we’ve seen? Despite what we don’t understand?
Is He still worth it?
Despite our own arrogance? Our own pride? The quiet ways we thought we had things figured out… only to realize we didn’t?
Because if we’re honest, this isn’t just about leaders falling.
It’s about the shaking of everything we thought was stable.
It’s about realizing that people will fail, systems will fail, even our own expectations of how things “should” go will fail.
And in that place, we’re faced with Him.
Not the version of God we built in our minds. Not the version of faith that felt easy or predictable.
But the real Jesus.
And I can’t help but think about that song that this ministry used in one of their dramas called“Worth It All” by Rita Springer.
It still hits me the same way.
Because it doesn’t come from a place of everything making sense.
It comes from surrender.
From wrestling.
From choosing Him… even when you don’t understand.
I don’t understand Your ways
Oh, but I will give You my song... I’ll give You all of my praise
You hold on to all my pain.
And with it You are pulling me closer... and pulling me into Your ways
That’s where I feel like I am right now.
Not fully understanding. But still… being pulled closer.
Now around ev’ry corner and up ev’ry mountain
I’m not looking for crowns or the water from fountains
I’m desp’rate in seeking, frantic, believing that the sight of Your face is all that I’m needing
And maybe that’s what this all comes down to.
Not platforms. Not leaders. Not ministries.
Just Him.
Just His presence. Just His face. Just knowing Him.
And so even here in the middle of disappointment, in the middle of questions, in the middle of a faith that feels more tested than it used to… I find myself coming back to this:
I will say to You
It’s gonna be worth it... It’s gonna be worth it
It’s gonna be worth it all... I believe this
Not because everything makes sense.
But because He is still who He says He is.
And that is enough for me to keep going.
Hope this blesses you, and y'all go listen to that song now!
-Carson
For more spiritual encouragement, check out these episodes:
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