---

Thursday, I dragged my 64-year-old father up Cumberland Gap for a backpacking excursion. It’s his birthday on Monday. Happy Birthday, Dad! Glad I could torture both of us with a long hike into the woods. 

Along lengthy miles, aching muscles, and merry laughter, we discussed a myriad of ideas, postulations, and beliefs, staying up late next to burning embers and my sleeping dog. Naturally, I wanted to write down some of those, and perhaps, eventually, I’ll get to all of them; what “two-becoming-one” means, the dangers of AI in the Church, and the effect of the camera on churches everywhere. 

But to begin, I want merely to discuss the act of raising specific earthly individuals into great esteem.

This came after a pointed question when I asked my Dad if his father ever abused him. This question did not derive from my own experiences or an idea that my “Granddaddy” wasn’t anything but honorable, heroic, and idyllic. On the contrary, he was and has been a hero of mine for most of my life—a man who laid his life down for the Kingdom of God and did everything in his power to follow Jesus and lead his family in so doing. 

But my inference developed from a recent conversation with a family member, and I was eager to see what my father would say alone on the mountain. And we were alone. Not a human soul did we meet for two full days along eleven miles of hiking. 

My father confirmed my suspicion and detailed some of the incidents his father had lost his temper born from anger or embarrassment and left him a bloody mess all the way into his late teen years before my father eventually left the house, quickly married and joined the Army. 

Years later, my father was able to forgive his Dad before he had suffered from Alzheimer’s and passed away at age 67. It was in those years of forgiveness and a failing mind, my Dad saw his own father able to forgive himself finally, as he’d forgotten all the sins he still held against himself. He could finally be happy with himself again. 

I’ll get back to that.

---

Amidst the dialogue on the mountain, my father remarked aside, “I don’t mean to hash this up or act as though I’m smearing my father. I really have let all this go.”

I understood and brushed off the thought. My curiosity hadn’t developed from gossip, but a mere desire to know familial historical events. What would be the point of gossiping about a patriarch who is in paradise and free from all sin and regrets, anyway? 

My respect, honor…or…let’s say, vision of my Granddaddy could never skew one way or the other based on the amount of sin or greatness he had accomplished that I may be ignorant of today. The reason why I love him is effectively produced by his love and devotion to the Lord and passing that along to all of us in the family. 

But he is still a man, worthless and empty without Christ; righteous and holy with Him.

And that is what the point of all this gets to. 

Ofttimes, humans have a nasty inclination to make untouchable heroes out of men or women. Secularly, its celebrities, athletes, therapists, teachers, or politicians. Religiously, its pastors, ministers, deacons, bishops, and worship leaders. We are affected by someone, or witness a miracle, or receive a timely word that shakes our very being. And with it rattling down our psyche, we place a person securely on a lofty pedestal, where they cannot be touched. If others criticize or offer some new unsavory information about that person, we grow defensive like a wolf over her pups. There is a temptation to refuse and refute, pull away, hide our eyes, and ignore what may be the truth, but we know is a lie.

I have had a few people whom I consider great influencers and spiritual fathers in my life. Ones that primarily shaped and developed my faith. The lineage of Alderman patriarchs are some of them—being great men of faith and the cloth; my Dad, especially. Also, my pastor, Dan Stallbaum. And Andrew Wommack and C.S. Lewis, from afar. 

As my father and I discussed this idea next to Martin’s Stream somewhere on the ridge, I confessed that no amount of damaging information about any of them would change how I feel. I’ve already been offered plenty of it. I know about my Great-grandfather’s fall into infidelity. I know about my Granddaddy’s temper. My Dad has confessed many of his sins to me. Protecting his reputation and honor, I wouldn’t dare mention them publicly. Nor would I discuss those about my pastor Dan Stallbaum, someone I love and respect, and unfortunately, some have tried to smear the name of in hopes of misdirecting from their own flaws and plank-filled eyes. 

When I heard about these sins and mistakes, it didn’t shatter my world or rattle my faith. Weak men are affected by the faithless acts of others. 

What I focus on is that my Great-grandfather repented and led his family and church to the end of his life. My Granddaddy, likewise. My father with them. And if I got some new information that suddenly Andrew Wommack and/or Dan Stallbaum had lost their minds, rejected their faith, or been locked up for embezzlement over the last two decades, I’d shrug and say, “That’s unfortunate. I hope they get help,” and move on. Because my faith is not dependent on the works of some ordinary men who taught me some extraordinary things. 

None of these men were ever on a pedestal in my life. And because of that, I can honor them when others find it hard. The words they spoke that changed my life are what I hold up high in my life. And those words came from the Holy Spirit through them. But a person?…he’s fallible. Christ…He’s the fullness everlasting. 

When we raise the pastor or worship leader higher than the Truth, we suffer idolatry. If we make gods out of people, they will become our greatest demons. 

I’ve come to believe that the term “church hurt” is a demonic term. It’s thrown around so often now that it’s almost as common as tea with jam and bread. People love to express their “church hurt” or empathize with someone about what they assume is…”church hurt”. But no one ever talks about “school hurt” or “government hurt” or “auto-shop hurt”. Instead, they talk about mean bullies, seedy politicians, and con-artist mechanics. 

Yet for some ungodly reason, Christians have let Satan insert a term into our vernacular that places the blame on the Church—the bride of Christ—instead of the individual who sinned. That, to me, is unacceptable. Stop calling your pain or bad memory the fault of the Church. If a pastor manipulated you, a deacon duped you, a minister forgot your name, or a worship-leader cheated with your wife—that’s not “church hurt”, it’s stupid-people-hurt.

This “church hurt”, or whatever you want to call it now, is simply another term for idolatry.

There’s an old saying, “Hurt people hurt people.” Which is true and anecdotal. But honestly, it’s even simpler than that. The truth is: “People hurt people.” I don’t have to be “hurt” to hurt you. I can do it without even trying or knowing it. And I have. As have others hurt me without realizing it or meaning to.

People hurt people. It’s only when we have made them our god that we suffer disillusionment, depression, or destruction. In other words, if God’s Word is all that holds sway in my life, then I will never be shaken by the actions or words of another.

Now, that’s not to say people shouldn’t be held accountable for their sins. Let’s not just let pastors embezzle or worship leaders have affairs or the laymen murder. Of course not! Let the law of the land have its way, lead the man or woman back to repentance, and move on. Apart from Christ, the wages of sin is death. The penitent heart finds grace, but the shameful heart hides itself in Hell. This is why confession is paramount. This is why any and all should repent and come forth into the light.

You could misinterpret my message here to think I mean any time we react emotionally or distraught when someone we admire or love falls into sin, is itself sin. But I’m not admitting that we all act as though sin isn’t destructive, therefore easy to watch someone commit. I will give three different scenarios to flesh out my meaning.

Say perhaps there is some old legend of the faith who had guided you in yours. And after his or her career, the knowledge of their prior misconduct—be it embezzlement, substance abuse, or infidelity—comes to the limelight. Or say there is a young teacher in the faith, who has learned through misguided leadership how to manipulate, lie, and cheat his or her way to the top of earthly fame. Lastly, and I’ll approach a scenario removed from the pastoral position, say it’s discovered your father has been unfaithful, even scandalous in years past, and those he abused have informed you decades later. Confronting him, you hope he repents and admits his faults, but instead he denies all the claims and runs away into hiding.

In all of these scenarios, there is the temptation to crumble into depression or get angry and bitter. Those whom you admired and loved have now shown they were human after all. But to be emotionally affected by these individuals is not the same as having your faith shaken and rocked to pieces. Unfortunately, though, this is common in today’s culture. When the pastoral or father figure falls, people blame God and/or the Church, throw up their hands and declare, “Oh, I knew all of them were the same! That whole lot is nothing but a bunch of frauds and charlatans.” 

Just because a mentor or spiritual father fails you, does not mean God or the Word failed you. You can still retain the wisdom and knowledge you gained from said individual whilst simultaneously nodding in understanding, loving their impact on your life, praying for them heartily, and releasing them to whatever whirlwind their sowing has committed them. You can be outspoken in your dislike for their methods and stand against them spiritually, even physically (I don’t mean physical harm here, but merely the physicality of your body in motion rather than your spirit). But this is not a sign of hatred of the individual; instead, a hatred of the root of a systematic problem in which they were taught and how they now teach—what we call: sin. 

But none of another person’s sin holds any factoring in the production of my faith or love of the Church. My faith is not determined or dismantled by the sins of a person of influence in my life. If my father comes forth with an avalanche of sin that winds him up in prison, I don’t suddenly despise and reject all he has taught me that was good and true. I hold fast to those things, and hopefully I can turn to him and help him out of the mess he has found himself in. That’s forgiveness, redemption, discipleship…that’s the message of the Cross. 

This is why I make an effort not to “follow” or puff up people of the faith who are still breathing. It’s much easier to go about my life with heroes of the faith like the Apostle Paul, C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton when I know they are unlikely to get up out of the grave and commit some adulterous act. But if culture continues making celebrities, and, to put it bluntly, idols out of pastors, worship leaders, podcasters, and prophets, we are bound to have our hearts rattled from time to time. And then we must face the cloudy discernment of finding out if all that they taught was from God or not.

So, we’ve established that if we do not hold people in high esteem—higher than God and His Word—we will not have our faith rattled. But now, what do we do with the sinner who is still leading many astray?

I don’t despise this individual for wanting to hide in their sin while figuring out how to get out of it clean-shaven. I despise how the Enemy, Satan, has and is using that hidden sin to control or otherwise destroy them and others with them. 

And the others–that’s a sticking point for me. That’s the part that tips me into righteous anger. How the sin of one in high esteem can shake down the ranks of those they lead. Again, I am not angry at the individual for sinning. I’m angry at the outcome they are fostering. Anyone who has read much of my previous writings has garnered some idea of my pain, betrayal, or otherwise frustration with the ethics and integrity (or lack thereof) of the modern progressive Western Church.

When a church is built on manipulation and gaslighting, hundreds, if not thousands, can be led astray. And when the bubble bursts and the truth is revealed, the sheep scatter. 

To where? That’s what I want to know. And what I want to help. Because sheep tend to think all shepherds and farms are bad just because one was abusive. I would hope desperately to let those sheep know that just because their earthly shepherd sucked, it doesn’t mean the Good Shepherd is bad, or that the Church itself is against them.

So it’s this terrible balance of wanting to help uncover, but not at the expense of destroying lives. Instead, to unpack the wounds so that they may heal. It’s awful for everyone involved. But ultimately necessary. 

If we would stop idolizing people, or making ourselves into another person’s idol (looking at you, designer-jeans pastors), we would stop this cyclical mess from occurring. 

---

Now back to those curses I never spoke about, but are definitely there in the Alderman past with those great men before us. 

1970, Marvin Daniel Alderman died from Alzheimer’s at age 66 with some unhealthy rage and abusive tendencies. 

2002, Leland Leroy Alderman died from Alzheimer’s at age 67 with some unhealthy rage and abusive tendencies. 

2026, John Marvin Alderman, age 64, hikes up 1700 feet of mountain with his son and dog to discuss the depths of what God is doing on the earth with a vibrant, healthy relationship. 

My point is that by Christ’s grace and my father’s faith and obedience, those curses of Alzheimer’s and rage have been severed, and neither he, myself, nor my children will ever experience them. That’s freedom in Christ Jesus, and any hurt, abuse, or disease you have inherited can be severed, too.

---