Sitting in the seat of critique can be as hard as sitting in the seat of leadership, especially when the goal of critique is reform. Reform that leads to justice. Reform that leads to mercy. Reform that leads to love. I once learned from a mentor that you can learn two things from any leader: what to do and what not to do. This has helped me not to slip into cynicism in both my following and leading.
I’ve rarely sat in the seat of critique. Most of the seats I’ve occupied have been leadership seats: building schools, programs, and organizations that embody the shared dignity of all people. I’ve tried to build coalitions broad enough to hold different views and practices, yet focused enough not to drift.
I’ve received my share of critique along the way. Some of it was deserved. Some of it, at least to me, was unfair.
I’m a builder by nature, not a critic. The voices that formed me: Andrew Young, Dr. John Perkins, Barack Obama, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Pete Scazzero, and Dr. Tony Evans taught me to work for change from the inside. They taught me to live in the world as it is while laboring toward the world as it should be. I’m not drawn to wholesale deconstruction; I don’t believe every system or institution must be torn down, but I’m not a gradualist either. I’d call myself a hopeful realist who understands, as Dr. King once said, “The fierce urgency of now.” My protest has usually taken the form of building, speaking, and equipping.
When students in my city were being overlooked and their education taken for granted, we built a charter school that treated every student not as a number but as a name. Knowing that school choice was unpopular with many in our city and state, we pressed ahead, believing it was better to be criticized by some than to see our students denied the quality of education they deserved.
After the Pandemic wreaked devastation on many families in our community, I left that charter school to become the inaugural executive director of an organization focused on providing teenagers with the social-emotional skills, leadership development, and college and career readiness they needed to thrive in a post-pandemic world. I went back into the school system I once rejected because I didn’t want to contribute to the tiered system of education that too many, sometimes even in the same household, were receiving.
After leaving that organization, I was confronted with the fact that our poor leadership formation practices were inadequately preparing us for the harsh realities of the 21st century, so I launched an organization alongside Leadership Foundations to root people in the truth of the gospel and the ancient practices of a slowed-down spirituality.
As a leader who has started several new initiatives and worked in many sectors, I know that leadership is hard, nuanced, and messy. That’s why I come alongside leaders, not as a critic, but as a guide.
So when I feel compelled to critique, it’s because something has crossed a line I can’t ignore.
What crossed the line
Lately I’ve heard a lot of criticism of Pastor Philip Anthony Mitchell. I don’t know him. I’ve followed him only enough to understand why so many people in my orbit are drawn to his ministry. I’ll leave others to the broader debate about the meaning of the leaked clip from the team rally before ACCESS Texas and his many recent statements on podcasts.
My main concern is narrower. It’s the last line of the statement he released in response, later circulated by GOSPLGRID:
“And may we all be more slow to slander and quick to pray as God will hold us accountable for our idle words.” ~ Philip Anthony Mitchell
On its face, that statement is scriptural. James, the brother of Jesus, tells us to be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to wrath (James 1:19), and Jesus warns that we’ll give an account for every careless word. I agree with both. I detest the mockery that passes for commentary online, and Psalm 1 warns us not to “sit in the company of mockers.”
But there is a difference between slander and critique, and that line blurs it at best and erases it at worst. Slander invents or distorts in order to destroy. Critique names real words and real harm in order to restore. When a leader answers public concern by warning that God will judge those who speak, every critic is treated as a slanderer before the merit of the argument is heard.
Why it matters
I’ve watched this pattern before: as leaders grow in power and influence, God’s name becomes a shield, invoked to protect them from questions that arise when their leadership goes astray. “Don’t talk about me, or God will deal with you.” “Touch not my anointed” (Psalm 105:15), a verse about protecting God’s people, gets turned into a gag order for followers or observers. Criticism is explained away as jealousy or envy, and over time, the people around the leader learn that any negative evaluation is disloyalty.
That culture has been present in many of the most painful collapses of the last two decades, including Mark Driscoll’s Mars Hill, Bill Hybels’s Willow Creek, and the ministries of Ravi Zacharias and Mike Bickle. I am in no way saying that Pastor Mitchell is like those men; to my knowledge, there is no proof or allegation to claim this type of behavior or level of manipulation or abuse. I’m saying the culture that shielded them from critique was sustained by lines like his words above. And this level of critique matters when a platform reaches millions and is worldwide.
In preparing and researching for this piece, I listened to portions of a recent episode of the Live Free with Josh Howerton Podcast featuring Pastor Philip Anthony Mitchell. While I wasn’t planning on addressing much more than the last line of his statement above, I feel it is necessary to address this because it reveals why so many people feel hurt and upset by him. Speaking about what he calls “Radical Islam,” Pastor Mitchell said that “often the past is a good predictor of what is going to happen in the future.” He says this, pointing to the violent and oppressive spread of Islam from the seventh century, throughout parts of Africa, Asia, and the Middle East.
What Pastor Mitchell neglects is the violent history of Christianity that so many Western, evangelical, protestant, and Catholic Christians fail to reckon with in their past. A history filled with conquest, slavery, violent oppression, and covered-up abuse carried out in Jesus’ name. Frederick Douglass drew the line I want to draw:
“What I have said respecting and against religion, I mean strictly to apply to the slaveholding religion of this land, and with no possible reference to Christianity proper; for, between the Christianity of this land, and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference—so wide, that to receive the one as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked. To be the friend of the one, is of necessity to be the enemy of the other. I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the corrupt, slaveholding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land. Indeed, I can see no reason, but the most deceitful one, for calling the religion of this land Christianity.”
~ Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
Paul writes that God wants “everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:4). We can’t invite people to that truth while hiding from our own history.
This reckoning goes far beyond Pastor Mitchel and deserves more than a few paragraphs; I’ll take it up in a future essay in this series.
The point is, what if some critique comes not from envy but from love? From a desire to see a leader grow, and to keep the people hurt by his words from being hurt further? To build sustainable institutions where those under our care can thrive and aren’t silenced or scared into submission.
Scripture assumes this kind of love from friend to friend and leader to leader: “The wounds of a friend are trustworthy” (Proverbs 27:6). Paul opposed Peter “to his face” (Galatians 2:11), then wrote about it, and didn’t call it slander or libel. As Dr. King warned, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
I feel it is important to give a word of pastoral care here. I want to steward my leadership well, and this is not me telling you not to listen to Pastor Mitchell or partake in his ministry. It is me cautioning him and you. There have been so many people blessed by his ministry, and I pray that he bears lasting fruit that flourishes and thrives. That more people fall in love with Jesus because of his ministry.
My caution is that none of us is above critique, me included. That’s especially true when people tell us our words have hurt them. We won’t always agree with our critics; I certainly haven’t, and it is often necessary to persevere in the face of opposition to make lasting change. But we can sit with their words graciously without treating the critique as an attack on our character or theirs.
A word to the critics
Since this critique isn’t about me, I owe the critics the same measure of honesty. Don’t mock. Don’t condemn. Enlighten. Shine a light on the error and leave room for the person to grow and repent. Paul tells Timothy, “Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress” (1 Timothy 4:15, NIV). He knew that Timothy would make mistakes, but he encouraged him to be diligent in his leadership, knowing those under his care would see his growth, but they first had to give him the space to grow. This is uncomfortable for the leader to be so vulnerable, but it is the only way we will endure.
The seat of critique is uncomfortable, and it should be. It’s only worth sitting in if we’re there to restore, not to destroy. If love is the ultimate aim.
The series No One Is Coming is a collection of essays from my writing in this season of life. It speaks to how we often wait for some metaphorical figure to step in and make all things better. The title comes from Geoffrey Canada, who said that when he learned Superman wasn't real, he cried because no one was coming with enough power to save them. In this series, I will write about what I am reading. Essays will range widely. I invite you on this journey, and if something resonates with you, would you do two things for me? Would you leave me a comment or send me an email (dannyb@actjustlylovemercy.org) and let me know, and would you act on your convictions, inspirations, and encouragements? Stop waiting for someone to rescue you or your community and join in the work of restoration, renewal, and revitalization.