This is why all pastors fall.

And why you will, too.

I was in that in-between state. In-between consciousness and sleep. And the words just came to me.

Have you ever been there? Laying in bed, moments away from dreams, so close you can hear them calling, and then you get a thought.

For most of my life, I would say to myself, “Self, you’ll remember this in the morning. Just run towards your waiting dreams.” And whenever I woke up I would inevitably go through the painful and fruitless process of not, in fact, remembering what it was I told myself I would remember.

I wasn’t going to let that happen last night.

So the moment I heard the words, I rolled over, grabbed my phone, opened up my Evernote notebook, and wrote them down. And they’re as much for you as they are for me:

Show me a leader who has fallen and I will show you a leader not who isn’t strong enough, but who isn’t weak enough.

Read them again. Slowly.

Why, exactly, did those words come to me? Well, I live in the Dallas area. Specifically Frisco, TX. And in Frisco we had yet another pastor fall. On Sunday, John McKenzie admitted to the leadership of the megachurch he started, Hope Fellowship, that he had engaged in “sexual sin” and “a pattern of consensual behavior that made him unfit to continue in his role as pastor,” a letter to congregants said.

This one hits close to home. Literally. I drive by Hope Fellowship nearly every day. I have friends that go there. One of my neighbors is on staff at the church. I see the church’s sticker on numerous cars in the school pickup-line.

Because of that, I’ve been thinking about this one even more than the countless other examples of Christian leaders failing. Praying about it. Repeating the mantra I have tattooed on my left arm to keep me humble: “He today; I tomorrow.”

And as I’ve thought and prayed about it, I have felt such a burden toward one message: we need to be weaker.

What do I mean? Well, one of the things I learned as a result of my own fall—where I became the “Christian alcoholic”—is the necessity of what I call radical vulnerability. What is radical vulnerability? It’s dragging our struggles and weaknesses into the light in a way that makes us (and really our sin natures) uncomfortable. How? You start by going one step further than you’re comfortable going.

• Telling your spouse what you’ve been thinking. Honestly.

• Telling your best friend that you lingered a little too long looking at the woman at the store.

• Being willing to have that uncomfortable conversation so it doesn’t turn into resentment, because resentment always justifies our deceitful actions.

• Letting your husband know that the trainer at the gym touched your arm—and you liked it and “felt something.”

• Admitting the jokes you find yourself making.

It's talking about where you've failed. Your mistakes. Your insecurities. How you've gotten it wrong. The things you've said and done that you hope no one ever finds out about or brings up again. The hardships that make you feel like you're drowning. The lessons you're still learning. The mistakes you KEEP making, despite your best efforts. All the little things that when left unsaid will turn into big things.

That's radical vulnerability.

See, I've learned (I've seen) that when we practice radical vulnerability, the opposite of what we think is going to happen happens. The failures don't become an indictment, but rather an instrument. An instrument that you can use, and an instrument that God uses. There's a peace. Dare I say, you even gain a sense of power. And that peace comes EVEN when we have to face the consequences of some of those actions or words.

That's because when we shine a light on our weaknesses and failures, God shines through us. When we're humble enough to admit where we've failed and that we can't do it on our own, he does some of his best work.

Let me be clear: This isn’t “regular” vulnerability. See, “vulnerability” has become somewhat of a buzz word in the last 10 years. It’s all over pop psychology. And the thing is, we’ve gotten used to it. It’s the same concept for why we continue to need stronger antibiotics the more we take them: we become resistant to the regular kind.

So what’s my point? Well, I think all pastors who fall, who fail, who succumb to the temptations that the Devil is accosting them with, do so not because they aren’t strong enough, but because somewhere along they way they stopped practicing radical vulnerability. They stopped exposing their weaknesses. They stopped admitting what can, could, and does trip them up.

And when we refuse to expose our weaknesses in a radical way, those things fester. Grow. And then they take over.

That’s why I can say, show me a leader who has fallen and I will show you a leader not who isn’t strong enough, but who isn’t weak enough. All pastors who fall do so because, at some level, they have not been weak enough—vulnerable enough—with the people God has placed in their lives to keep them accountable. Are there other reasons? Sure. But I’m telling you, a lack of vulnerability is one of them—and perhaps the biggest one.

And we are guilty of the same thing. Every single one of us.

Friend, we need to practice vulnerability. Not the regular kind, but the radical kind. Because radical vulnerability is really just true confession. The Bible calls us to it and makes clear what happens when we confess.

So today, start going one step further than you’re comfortable with in your small group, with your spouse, with your friend. I’m not saying you put everything out there on social media. Actually, you probably shouldn’t do that. But what I’m saying is start shining a light—in an uncomfortable way—on those things you think you need to keep secret. The things the Devil has said no one will get, no one will understand, and that he says are already too big to tell anyone about.

He’s wrong.

Freedom, true freedom, is waiting for on the other side of radical vulnerability. And so, too, is a lot less pain.

(By the way, I’ll be speaking on this topic at the Hope Together conference next weekend in Allen, TX. If you’re going, I’d love to have you at my session. If you’re interested, sign up here.)

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Photo by Jeremy Kuehn on Unsplash (This is a stock photo, NOT a phot of John McKenzie.)