Michael shares a powerful testimony of how he unknowingly shifted from relying on God to building his church on his own strength. During this season, the church grew in numbers, but something was missing. It wasn’t until Paul Washer preached a convicting message that the Lord opened Michael’s eyes, revealing that his congregation feared him more than they feared God. This realization led to a deep spiritual awakening and a humbling experience, where God stripped away what Michael had built to restore the church on a foundation of true faith and reliance on Christ.
When I went to Oak Grove in 1993, it was a divisive Landmark King James-only Southern Baptist Church. Two deacons had gotten into a fistfight the month before I arrived, and during the business meeting, they had asked me three times to consider becoming the pastor. Each time, I told them, “No, no way.” But the Lord had other plans.
On my first Sunday there, as I preached, a man stood up in the back of the church and came running down the aisle, shouting, “I’m lost, I’m lost.” It was the worship leader of the church. Within a few days, I believe five people had been converted. By Wednesday night, people were standing up and confessing their sins. I even had to stop one lady because she was getting too detailed and graphic in her confession.
I won’t go into many details, but in seven years, the church had become the largest it had ever been. We were packing in chairs and had started a building program. And then God showed up. In the first couple of years, every day I’d get up early and say, “Lord, I don’t know how to pastor these people. I don’t have what it takes. You gotta help me, Lord. You sent me here. I didn’t want to come here. You sent me here. You gotta help me.” And every day, the Lord helped me.
As the church began to thrive, I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back, I recognized that I wasn’t getting up early in the morning to pray the same way I used to. I was still praying, but I wasn’t saying, “Lord, I don’t know how to pastor.” I wasn’t saying, “Lord, you gotta help me.” I was just uttering prayers, thinking I had learned enough to manage on my own. I thought I could just repeat what I had learned.
I’ve never told Paul this, but I’m going to tell him tonight. Every year, we would have a missions conference. For the first three Sundays, I would preach, and then I’d find a missionary who was home. Paul lived just right across the river from us, but he was still in Peru at the time. He preached one Sunday morning and evening. That Sunday night, he preached a sermon that I really didn’t know how to handle. It sounded—he won’t remember this—but it sounded almost like health, wealth, and prosperity. He didn’t use those words and wasn’t preaching that, but it was basically about trusting God, believing God, and that He’ll do great things.
I was praying and asking, “Lord, how do I conclude all of this? How do I wrap this service up?” And then God spoke to me. Now, some of you may not believe that, and that’s okay, but I know what happened. I was there. He said, “You’re building this church on you and your gifts. The people fear you more than they fear Me.” Immediately, I began to break like a little baby and cry. In fact, I began to cry so hard that people began to look at me, wondering what was going on.
I tried to dismiss the service, but I just broke down again. I tried to tell them what had happened, but I couldn’t. I ran to my office, got on my face, and for two hours, I prayed and promised God that if He would just be gracious to me, He could tear down everything I had built. I said, “Lord, just leave what You’re doing, and I’ll be happy if nobody ever knows who I am. If I stay here for the rest of my life, I’m okay with that.”
When I finished praying two hours later, there was no one left in the building, and God began to do a work in my heart. He stripped everything I had built. It was the worst year of my life, but the best year of my life. Do you know why? Because God loved me so much that He wasn’t going to let me ruin what He had started in my life and in that church.
Do you hear what I’m saying to you tonight? The arm of flesh can do a lot. It can perform marvelously. Musicians can do amazing things and move our hearts. We can have wonderful services and leave saying, “Wasn’t that a good exposition today? Didn’t we hear the Word of the Lord and learn new things?” But, friends, if it’s not of the Spirit of God and He’s not in it, it doesn’t last. Nothing transformative happens. Only heaven can do that. Only heaven. I can’t. No one can. I realize that if God doesn’t use what I say here tonight, nothing’s going to happen spiritually—maybe emotionally, maybe even intellectually, but not spiritually, where it counts.
The great mistake made by most people in church today is that they’re hoping to discover in themselves that which is to be found in Christ alone.
This excerpt is from the full sermon: The Gospel of David’s Tabernacle
