I came across a video of a pastor in Arizona the other day, and it caught me by surprise. I’ve written about him before when he publicly called out another church. I defended him for doing so, but criticized him when he later apologized.
You might be wondering, “FBP, who on earth are you talking about? If you’ve written about him before, did you put him on blast and name drop him?”
Well, I did, and yes, I did.
His name is Mark Driscoll.
If you want the background on what I wrote about him before, you can read “Mark Driscoll, Guest Speaker, Kicked Off the Stage”.
This time, what caught my attention was something completely different. I came across a video of Driscoll using a very vulgar phrase. I’m not going to repeat it here, and I’m not going to link to the video. If you really want to find it, I’m sure you can, but I don’t see any reason for me to help spread it.
What bothered me wasn’t simply hearing a word or phrase I didn’t like. We live in a world where vulgar language is everywhere, and hearing it certainly isn’t shocking. What caught me off guard was hearing it come from a pastor, publicly, and then thinking about the example that sets for everyone listening.
Am I chastising Mark Driscoll? In a way, yes. But this isn’t about him. He’s the example that got me thinking about something much bigger, something that applies to me just as much as it applies to him, and really, to every Christian.
I struggle with cursing. Swearing, cussing, whatever you want to call it, different names for the same action. It has come out of my mouth before, it still does, and it is something I struggle with. I know it is wrong, and I’m not going to pretend that because I’m writing about someone else doing it, I somehow have this figured out myself.
We see something interesting when Peter denies Jesus. By the third denial, Matthew tells us that Peter “began to curse and swear” while insisting that he did not know Him (Matthew 26:74). Mark records the same thing in Mark 14:71.
Peter was already trying to convince his accusers that he had nothing to do with Jesus, but then he swore, creating even more of a divide between himself and Jesus in front of them. His words helped reinforce the very message he was trying to send: I am not with Him.
And that matters because words have power.
Now, I am not saying our words have power in the same way God’s words do. They don’t. But read the Bible from cover to cover and tell me words don’t matter.
Genesis opens with God speaking creation into existence:
“Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.”
— Genesis 1:3 (LSB)
Moses stood before Pharaoh carrying the words God had commanded him to speak: “Let My people go.” David stood before Goliath and told him that the birds of the sky and the beasts of the earth would eat the flesh of the Philistine army. Esther spoke before the king when speaking could have cost her life. Jesus stood outside the tomb and cried out for Lazarus to come forth. And from the cross He declared, “It is finished.”
Those are not all the same kind of speech, and they certainly do not all carry the same authority. God speaking creation into existence is not comparable to you or me speaking, and Jesus commanding Lazarus out of the grave does not mean our words possess divine creative power.
That isn’t my point.
My point is much simpler: the Bible does not treat words as meaningless.
Words can proclaim truth. Words can deny Christ. Words can encourage. Words can deceive. Words can bless, and words can tear someone apart. They can confess Christ before men or, as we just saw with Peter, be used in an attempt to convince others that we have nothing to do with Him.
And when we turn to James, he tells us just how seriously we should take the words that come out of our own mouths.
James compares the tongue to a bit in a horse’s mouth and the rudder of a ship. Both are small things capable of directing something much larger than themselves. Then his imagery becomes even stronger: the tongue is a fire.
“So also the tongue is a small part of the body, and yet it boasts of great things. Behold how great a matter a little fire kindles!” — James 3:5 (LSB)
That’s the thing about words. They can seem small when they leave our mouths. It takes only a second to say them. But once they leave our mouths, we don’t get to decide how far they travel or what they do when someone else hears them.
And there is something else in James 3 that matters here. Before James ever gets to the bit, the rudder, or the fire, he opens the chapter by saying:
“Do not, many of you, become teachers, my brothers, knowing that we will receive a stricter judgment.” — James 3:1 (LSB)
That makes this particularly important when we are talking about pastors and teachers. They are not the standard—Jesus Christ is the standard—but Scripture recognizes that teachers have influence, and with that influence comes greater accountability.
James puts it pretty plainly:
“From the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so.” — James 3:10 (LSB)
And I can’t read that and just point at Mark Driscoll. I have to look at myself too. I can sit here and write about Christ, talk about Scripture, pray, and tell others they should be following Jesus, but then turn around and let words come out of my own mouth that I know shouldn’t be there.
I struggle with it.
That doesn’t make it okay. It means I need to work on it.
And that’s really the point here. I’m not writing this because I think I’m better than Mark Driscoll or because I’ve somehow mastered my own tongue. I haven’t. I’m writing it because when Scripture points something out, our response shouldn’t be to figure out how we can justify it. We should be asking ourselves where we need to change.
And this is where the stumbling block becomes important.
Someone may hear Mark Driscoll use a vulgar phrase and think, “Well, I would never say that. But if a pastor can say something like that, surely this other word isn’t that bad.”
No.
That is exactly how we start moving the line.
It doesn’t always begin with the worst thing. It begins with the smaller thing we convince ourselves is okay. Then that becomes normal. Once that becomes normal, something a little further down the road doesn’t seem quite as bad anymore.
The line moves again.
That’s why I don’t think we can look at a stumbling block only as, “Did somebody see me do this exact thing and then go do the exact same thing?” Sometimes the example we set simply gives someone permission to take the next smaller step toward something they were already struggling against.
I know this because I struggle with cursing myself. Imagine someone like me hearing a pastor use language far worse than something I might already be trying to justify. How easy would it be to think, “Well, what I say isn’t nearly as bad as that.”
And there it is.
The standard just became Mark Driscoll instead of Christ.
That’s the danger.
And it brings us to a question that goes far beyond cursing: Just because we can do something, does that mean we should?
Paul addresses this directly in 1 Corinthians 6:12 (LSB):
“All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything.”
Paul returns to the same principle in 1 Corinthians 10:23–24. Something may be lawful, but that does not automatically make it profitable. It does not automatically mean that it edifies.
As Christians, the question cannot simply be, “Can I do this?”
We also need to ask: Is this profitable? Does this edify? Does this point toward Christ?
Because my responsibility as a Christian is not to establish how much I can get away with. My responsibility is to point and lead others in the direction of Jesus Christ—the One we should actually be imitating.
That’s what makes the stumbling block so serious.
If someone looks at Mark Driscoll and thinks, “If he can say that, surely what I say is fine,” they’re looking at the wrong standard. And if someone looks at me and thinks the same thing because of the language that comes out of my mouth, then I have pointed them toward the wrong standard too.
The standard isn’t Mark Driscoll. The standard isn’t me. The standard is Jesus Christ.
Paul says in 1 Corinthians 11:1 (LSB):
“Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ.”
That little phrase at the end matters. Paul could tell Christians to imitate him because Paul himself was pointing beyond himself to Christ.
That is what we should be doing.
So when we talk about stumbling blocks, I’m not saying that I am responsible for every decision another person makes. I am saying that I am responsible for the direction I point them.
And that direction should always be toward Jesus Christ.