The Man in the Window
The Man in the Window
Lagniappe — Episode 3 | Brad Kirby, Lead Pastor
Welcome to episode three of Lagniappe — a little something extra from my heart, rooted in God's Word, and shared with our church family.
This one is going to feel a little different from the first two. It's more personal. A little more raw.
I was about to say "more real," but that would not be quite right. I am usually pretty real already. For better or worse, what you see is what you get. This one simply goes a little closer to home. I am sharing it not to make the moment about me, but because sometimes the most pastoral thing we can do for one another is tell the truth about where God is working in us.
As I tell you my story, I hope you will listen for your own. The details may be different, but the struggle is more common than most of us admit.
One Year In, With Fresh Eyes
I've now had the privilege of serving as your Lead Pastor for a little over a year — and honestly, it has flown by. Warp speed. Some of you may be thinking, "Really? It feels like you've been here five years." That's church time for you — it's a little like dog years. Depending on who you ask, one year can feel like seven.
One of the gifts of being new is that you get to see things with fresh eyes. You're a little like a secret shopper — except you're not hiding, and everybody knows who you are. You notice the strengths and the weaknesses. The wins and the places where we still have room to grow. The things being done incredibly well, and the things that may need a little attention.
That has been true in every church I've served throughout thirty years of ministry. In some ways, churches are all alike. In other ways, every church is completely different. Every church has strengths and weaknesses. Every church has victories and challenges. They are just different from place to place because churches are made up of people — and people are wonderfully different. As I said Sunday, churches are a little like Baskin-Robbins. At the end of the day, we're all ice cream — but we come in a whole lot of different flavors.
During my first year at CityBridge, I have been deeply encouraged — honestly, even a little overwhelmed — by the strengths of this church.
There is real community here. Not just a class you attend. Not just a room full of people sitting in rows. There are people genuinely showing up for one another and walking through life together.
There is a deep commitment to God's Word. This church wants faithful, biblical teaching — not fluff, not trends, not spiritual lemonade.
There is real discipleship happening. We are not interested in simply making converts. We want to see lives transformed. We want people to know Jesus, follow Jesus, and become more like Jesus.
There is a growing willingness to engage people who are far from God. We are learning little by little to look beyond ourselves, step outside our comfort zones, and move toward people who may never walk through the doors on their own.
I could keep going. These are not small things. They are beautiful, God-given strengths — and they are worth celebrating.
Every Strength Can Become a Weakness
But here's something I've learned about churches — and people in general: Sometimes our greatest strength, if it gets out of balance, can slowly become a weakness. In some cases, it can even become our greatest weakness.
A church that is compassionate without truth can leave people comfortable in patterns that are hurting them, instead of lovingly calling them toward repentance, healing, and change.
Faith without wisdom can lead us to make impulsive or irresponsible decisions — and then expect God to clean up a mess He never told us to make.
Having a culture of excellence devoid of grace can create a culture where performance matters more than people, and everyone feels like nothing is ever quite good enough. It can also leave so little room for flexibility that we miss what God may be doing in the moment.
It is amazing how quickly we can take something beautiful, sprinkle a little human nature on top, and make it weird. It does not take long.
Every strength is a gift from God, but every gift must remain surrendered to God and grounded in Scripture.
Authenticity Has to Stay Biblical
One of CityBridge's greatest strengths is authenticity. CityBridge is one of the safest churches I have ever been part of when it comes to honestly sharing our struggles.
I see it in ReGen, in the atrium, in Community Groups, in Merge, and even from the stage. People are willing to talk openly about pornography, addiction, fear, anxiety, broken relationships, failure, sin, and all the places where we desperately need the grace of God.
After thirty years of pastoral ministry, let me tell you — that kind of openness is rare. I have been in churches where someone admitted they struggled with anger, and people looked at them like they had just confessed to robbing a bank.
So, this is gloriously refreshing. We are not pretending to have it all together. We are not polishing ourselves up before we walk into the room. We are simply saying, "This is where I am struggling. This is where I need help. This is where I need Jesus."
That is a beautiful strength, but authenticity, like everything else, must also remain biblical.
There is a difference between honest communication and careless communication. There is a difference between confession and criticism. There is a difference between speaking the truth in love and simply saying every thought that wanders through our head.
Not every preference needs a press conference.
Not every opinion needs an audience.
Not every frustration is a word from the Lord.
Just because a thought crossed our mind does not mean God cleared it to cross our lips.
Before any of us hears that as a word for somebody else, we should hear it as a word for ourselves. The question is not only, "Are people speaking wisely to me?" It is also, "Am I speaking wisely to others? Are my words helping them follow Jesus, or am I simply unloading what I feel?"
God's Word has much to say about the words that come out of our mouths — both the words we should speak and the words we should avoid. Our speech is not a small matter to God. Words have the power to encourage, heal, correct, and give life, but they can also wound, deceive, divide, and destroy. Scripture teaches us that godly communication is not only about choosing the right words; it is also about examining the motives of our hearts.
Jesus said in Matthew 12:34, "From the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks."
Ephesians 4:15 tells us to "speak the truth in love." Motives matter. If my speech is not balanced, checked, submitted to Scripture, it may be best for us to stay quiet.
Ephesians 4:29 gives an even clearer standard for our speech: "Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear."
James 1:19 says, "Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger."
So, we are not going backward. We are not going to become less honest. We are not going to shut down communication. We are not going to lose our authenticity. We do need to always pay attention and stay vigilant that our communication is biblical, balanced, gracious, necessary, and helpful.
Brad, What Are You Doing?
Now, having said all of that — that is not actually the main point of this video. This is where it gets personal.
I want to invite you into this honestly, because I suspect some of you know this struggle too. During my first year at CityBridge, I have noticed something happening in me that I simply don't like. I want to be authentic about it. At times, I have found myself caring more about the opinions of people at CityBridge than I should.
Not constantly. Not dramatically, but slowly, subtly, quietly, almost without my noticing, the desire to please people began creeping in. Pastors have probably always faced this temptation because ministry is so public. We stand in front of people every week. We teach. We lead. We make decisions. As it turns out — people have opinions. Lots of opinions.
Some want the church to grow larger. Others want it to stay smaller and more personal.
Some want more outreach into the community. Others want more focus on discipling the people already here.
Some want change. Others want us to preserve what has always worked.
Some want more accountability and structure. Others want more flexibility and freedom.
Some want the pastor at every event, shaking every hand and eating every casserole. Others want him in his study, praying, preparing, and leading.
Then there are the sermons.
Some think the sermon was too long. Others think it was too short.
Some think I talked too fast. Others think I talked too slowly.
Some want more application and illustration. Others want more history and context.
Some want it deeper. Others want it simpler.
At CityBridge, I can preach one sermon, walk off the stage, and actually have people walk up and grade me. That's new. The somewhat funny thing is one person will give me an A-plus, and another in the same service, listening to the same sermon will give me a C-minus. Apparently, preaching is the only class where every student gets to grade the teacher. Ha!
I have been doing this for a long time. I understand that different people will respond differently. I expect it to some degree. It can be tiring, but it is not exactly surprising. At a church this size, we have all kinds of people in the room on Sunday morning.
You have mature believers, brand-new believers. Some are still trying to figure out what they believe. Some come hungry for the Word. Some desperately need encouragement. There are even some, whether they realize it or not, who really just want to be entertained.
Different people will hear the same message differently. That is normal, but it is also hard work. There is no way to make everyone happy. It is even a bit more interesting at CityBridge because we value open and honest communication so deeply that, if we are not careful, people can feel unusually free to share every reaction, preference, and critique.
I once had someone critique the length of a prayer almost immediately after I finished praying it. My minute-and-a-half prayer was apparently thirty seconds too long. I did not realize prayer had a shot clock.
Over time, this has subtly crept into my mind and heart. I have gone home after pouring out my voice, my emotions, my heart, and an entire week of study — knowing I had been faithful to the text, knowing I had honored the Lord, and knowing the message was good for the church — and still felt uneasy.
I have bent Emily's ear more than I should, asking for feedback and replaying decisions and sermons because I was concerned about what certain voices were saying. Not because I believed I had displeased God, but because I wondered whether I had pleased everybody else.
I know that I am not alone, that's why I wanted to share. Maybe it is the response to a text message, the evaluation at work, the opinion of a parent, the approval of a spouse, the acceptance of a friend group, or the reaction to something you posted. The setting changes, but the heart question is the same: Whose voice gets to tell me whether I am enough?
I was allowing the opinions of people to carry more weight than they should. I was beginning to look sideways for approval when I should have been looking upward for faithfulness.
That is dangerous for any pastor — and for any follower of Jesus — because when pleasing people becomes our controlling concern, faithfulness to God can slowly become negotiable.
Recently, I had to stop and ask myself, "Brad, what are you doing?" This isn't who you are. This isn't who you have been. I believe that when I preach, you are seeing the real Brad. Trust me, pretending has never been one of my spiritual gifts.
The Brad you see on the stage is the same Brad you will meet in the hallway, across the table at lunch, in a hospital room, or sitting in your living room. What you see is what you get.
Though, lately, concern about what people think has managed to weasel its way into my head more than it has in other churches I have pastored.
Should I talk faster?
Should I slow down?
Should I leave out something important just to beat the clock?
Should I add something because someone wants me to sound more like another teacher?
Should I lead differently because someone is uncomfortable with change?
Should I hold back because someone might misunderstand?
It is not constant. But it has been frequent enough for me to notice. It has started stealing some of my joy, clouding some of my focus, and limiting some of my effectiveness. No good. I do not like that. Actually, I hate it.
I do not want to lead timidly. I am not a timid leader.
I do not want to preach distracted. One of my strengths has always been the ability to lock in, focus clearly, and say what I believe God has called me to say.
I do not want to make decisions while constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering who approves, who does not, and who may be composing an email before I even finish the sentence.
A Thermometer, Not the Thermostat
Now, I do want to listen to people. I need to listen to people. I want to be a wise pastor who receives counsel. A wise leader stays teachable. I care what this congregation thinks. I care about what you experience. I care when you are hurting. I care when you see something I may not see.
Your feedback can be incredibly helpful, but opinions must be a thermometer, not the thermostat. They can help me understand the temperature in the room, but they cannot control the temperature of my soul. They can inform me. They can sharpen me. They can serve me, but they cannot rule me.
Galatians 1:10 says, "For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ." Paul does not leave much wiggle room there. You cannot make the approval of people your highest goal and still faithfully serve Christ.
At some point, every one of us has to decide whose approval matters most.
That does not mean we become hard, defensive, or unwilling to listen. It means we learn the difference between receiving counsel and surrendering our identity. We can let wise people speak into our lives without letting every opinion sit on the throne of our hearts.
Colossians 3:23-24 says, "Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ."
He said … "whatever you do."
That means this is not just a pastor problem. This is an everybody problem.
Some of us feel it at work, trying to satisfy a boss whose expectations keep moving. Some feel it at home, trying to become the version of ourselves that will finally earn a parent's praise. Some feel it in friendships, on social media, in school, in marriage, or even at church. We adjust, perform, overexplain, apologize for things that are not wrong, and carry expectations God never gave us.
When you preach.
When you parent.
When you work.
When you lead.
When you study.
When you serve.
When you coach.
When you teach.
When you build.
When you clean.
When you care for your family.
Whatever you do, do it for the Lord.
Not for applause. Not for approval. Not for recognition. Not to keep everyone happy.
Do it for the Lord.
People are inconsistent. Their opinions change. Their expectations shift. People will love you one day and misunderstand you the next. Sometimes people will be your biggest advocate on Monday and crumple you up and throw you in the garbage on Tuesday. Some will think you are too much. Others will think you are not enough. The goal is not to be enough for everyone. The goal is to be faithful to God.
The Man in the Window
I once heard a story about an attendant working at a train station. The station was behind schedule. Bags were piling up. Lines were growing. The ticket machine was broken. People were getting angry. None of it was the attendant's fault. He was the one on the platform; he was visible, so people started criticizing him anyway. No matter how nice he was, how hard he worked to solve problems, how gentle he was … they were sarcastic. Impatient. Telling him how to do his job. Threatening him. Saying he should be fired. Making demands.
Somehow, he remained calm. He stayed polite. He kept doing his work as faithfully as he could. Finally, someone watching asked him, "How are you staying so calm? Why are you not losing your mind?" The attendant simply pointed toward a small window in a nearby booth. He said, "Do you see that man in the window? That is my boss. His opinion is the only one that really matters." Then he said, "And he thinks I am doing just fine." I love that story!
The truth is, there is one whose opinion matters more than every other opinion combined. He is not in a booth, in a seat in the sanctuary, sitting behind a keyboard at a computer or on social media. … He is seated on the throne.
I need that reminder. I bet I am not the only one.
Parents need that reminder.
Employees need that reminder.
Students need that reminder.
Teenagers need that reminder.
Leaders need that reminder.
Maybe you are exhausted because you are trying to keep everybody happy. Maybe you are changing who you are depending on who is in the room. Maybe one critical comment ruins twenty encouraging ones. Maybe you are carrying expectations God never placed on you. Maybe you are living for applause from people who will never be satisfied.
Listen to me: You cannot build a peaceful life on the shifting opinions of people.
People's responses can be meaningful, but they are not a reliable foundation for identity. Approval can feel warm, but it cannot hold the weight of your soul. Criticism can hurt, but it does not have the authority to name you. In Christ, you are not the sum of the compliments you receive or the complaints made about you.
Our Goal Is Obedience
So, CityBridge, I promise you, we will not lose one ounce of our authenticity. We will not stop listening. We will not shut down honest communication. We will not become defensive or unteachable, but make no mistake: CityBridge, something is going to change in me. It has to! I am freeing myself from being overly controlled by what people think of me.
I want to be a good example. I want to serve this church well. I want to lead with humility. I want to love people deeply, but my ultimate aim has to be to please the Master. I have spent too much time wondering: "Did they like it? … Did they dislike it? … Do they like me? … Do they dislike me?" That is not me, and it ends today.
I hope CityBridge grows by thousands. (Parking team… if that happens… I am sorry and you're welcome.) I pray we reach people who are far from God. I pray we make disciples. I pray we baptize people, strengthen families, restore marriages, send missionaries, and become an unmistakable light in this dark and depraved generation like Paul exhorted. That is my fervent hope, prayer, and goal.
If being obedient costs us something, we will still obey. Even if faithfulness is misunderstood, we are going to be faithful. Even if following God means 500 people walk away, we will not abandon what God has called us to do, no matter the opinion or preference.
Our goal is not applause. Our goal is obedience. Our goal is not popularity. Our goal is faithfulness. Our goal is not to please everyone in the station. Our goal is to look toward the window — to look toward heaven — and know that the One who matters sees our hearts.
His approval is enough.
His grace is enough.
His presence is enough.
I am purposing in my heart today to remind myself to find my rest in Him and I am asking you to do the same.
So, let me ask you personally: Whose opinion has been carrying too much weight in your heart? Whose disappointment are you afraid of? Whose praise do you feel you cannot live without? What would change if you listened humbly, learned what was true, released what was not, and rested again in the love and approval of God?
Stop living as a slave to the opinions of people.
Stop letting human applause become your identity.
Criticism does not have to become your prison.
Let's listen. Let's learn. Let's stay humble. Let's receive wise correction. But above all else, let's live before the face of God. His is the voice that names us, steadies us, corrects us, and calls us forward. His opinion is the one that matters most.