The Courage of a Non-Partisan Pulpit
The pulpit stood empty.
Rain tapped the roof in anxious rhythm. A single shaft of colored light slipped through the stained glass and fell across the worn oak. The Bible lay closed, waiting. In thirty minutes, the room would fill. Farmers. Teachers. Mothers. Veterans. A few teens scrolling their phones. A few saints clutching Kleenex.
The man called to preach sat alone in the front pew. Elbows on knees. Hands clenched. Thoughts tangled.
He’d been told to keep it spiritual. Told not to stir things up. Told not to sound like one of those pastors. He’d even been forwarded JD Greear’s latest post.
And yet.
He looked again at the pulpit, then at the Word, and then at the sky.
This wasn’t just another Sunday. It never was.
The Pastor’s Call: Clarity Over Comfort
JD Greear recently shared a warning for pastors. In it, he quoted a friend who said, “If I’d say it around the firepit, I’ll say it from the pulpit.” Greear pushed back, calling that an unfaithful hermeneutic. “The pulpit is not for your opinions,” he wrote. “It is for the Word of God.”
And he’s right. Partially.
Yes, the pulpit must not become a place for venting. It must not echo Twitter rants or campaign slogans. Pastors are not political mascots, and the Word is not a talking point.
But Greear’s follow-up point was more troubling. He urged pastors not to bind consciences where Scripture is silent, especially in political matters. Better to err on the side of silence, he said, than risk politicizing the gospel.
But in a time like ours, silence is not neutral. It is not safe. It is not wise.
Sometimes it’s not wisdom keeping the pulpit quiet…it’s fear.
When hell markets confusion as compassion, when the slaughter of the unborn is praised as healthcare, when children are taught to distrust their bodies, when entire societies lose the meaning of marriage, truth is not being politicized. It is being attacked.
And if the shepherd does not lift his voice now, the wolves will speak instead.
The Pulpit Is Not Caesar’s Podium
Romans 13 tells us that government is God-ordained. But it also tells us that rulers are accountable to God. They do not possess unlimited authority. They are not lords. Christ alone is Lord. And that means when the government overreaches, when it begins to call evil good and good evil, when it claims the right to define truth, the preacher must not nod politely.
He must speak.
Not with partisan fever. But with courage.
To preach that life begins at conception is not a political statement. It is a theological one.
To preach that God made us male and female is not endorsing a party. It is confessing a design.
To call fathers to lead, mothers to nurture, and children to obey is not conservative talking points. It is biblical order.
This is not about politics. It is about lordship.
The Conscience Belongs to Christ
One of the more dangerous ideas floating through evangelical pulpits is this: that clarity alienates, but nuance builds bridges. That hard truths are better left implied. That if we just preach the gospel, people will figure out the rest.
But Jesus did not speak in hints. He did not whisper truth from the corners of culture. He proclaimed it from hillsides and temple courts and rugged crosses. He wept over Jerusalem, but He still warned it. He loved sinners, but He never affirmed their sin. He was tender with the broken, but He never tiptoed around reality.
Pastors do not have the right to edit Christ.
When a preacher softens truth to fit the mood of the room, he has already left the room where God speaks. When a church values cultural relevance over scriptural reverence, it may still attract crowds, but it will stop making disciples.
The conscience belongs to Christ. And if we do not preach as men under orders, we will preach as men seeking approval.
Greear is correct to say that the pulpit must not be partisan. But the gospel is never apolitical. It declares that Jesus is Lord. Not Caesar. Not Congress. Not the court. Not culture. And that declaration has always had consequences.
The Courage to Speak
There is a fear in the church today that saying too much will drive people away. But what if saying too little is what’s been emptying the pews all along?
The world is not looking for relevance. It is drowning in relevance. It is choking on opinion, trend, and spin. What it needs is truth. Truth that stands when everything else falls.
Greear wants pastors to avoid entangling the gospel in party politics. That’s good. But the greater danger now is not that pastors will endorse candidates. It is that they will so fear being misunderstood, they will say nothing at all.
The gospel is not fragile. Truth is not fragile. What is fragile is our pride. What is brittle is our reputation. And many pastors are willing to protect those, even if it means dulling the blade of the Word.
But courage looks different.
Courage says that abortion is evil and not up for negotiation. Courage says that gender is not a feeling. Courage says that marriage is not fluid. Courage says that governments do not own children. Courage says that churches must not sell their pulpits to the highest bidder, even if that bidder is silence.
And true courage says it all with tears, not with fists. With clarity, not contempt. With gravity, not glee.
We need fewer firepit sermons and more furnace sermons. The kind that come from men who, like Daniel’s friends, refuse to bow. The kind that are preached not with swagger but with scars.
Back to the Pulpit
The rain has stopped. The room has filled. A hymn has been sung. The preacher steps to the pulpit.
He does not carry a party. He carries a cross.
He does not wave a flag. He lifts a flame.
He opens the Word. He sees the faces. And he begins.
Not with opinion. Not with apology.
But with this:
“Thus says the Lord.”
And in that moment, heaven leans close.
Author’s Note:
This is written for every pastor who has felt the pressure to stay quiet, to be vague, or to take cover behind nuance. JD Greear’s article is right to warn against making the pulpit a campaign stop. But the greater danger in our time is not partisanship. It is passivity. The pulpit is not a firepit for tossing around hot takes. But it is not a museum display either.
Let the pulpit burn again. With truth. With courage. With Christ.
— Pastor Rich