Not All Who Say "Lord"

A popular, evangelical preacher passed away this week. Almost immediately tributes flooded in praising his “clarity,” “courage,” and “faithfulness.” But the eulogies—like his ministry—were carefully curated.

What many overlooked (or don’t seem to care about) was this: for over five decades, this individual built an empire on a gospel that left sinners in their sins—and then sold it in leather-bound, gold-edged study Bibles for $80 a pop. He preached a gospel that rejected the New Testament’s clear pattern for salvation. His influence shaped generations, not into obedient disciples, but into spiritual consumers of a message that severed baptism from forgiveness, minimized obedience, and exalted personality over pattern.

In a world infatuated with celebrity preachers, his defenders now weep over his “legacy,” as if decades of doctrinal error are irrelevant because he had a good pulpit voice. But Scripture warns us not to judge before the time (1 Cor. 4:5), not to show partiality (Jas. 2:1), and not to tolerate any other gospel—no matter how popular its messenger (Gal. 1:8–9).

This article isn’t about one man—it’s about the dangerous addiction to platform-driven religion, the refusal to call out doctrinal fraud when it wears a tie, and the absolute necessity of returning to the New Testament blueprint before more souls are lost to polished deception.

In many churches the pulpit has become a platform, the preacher a performer, and the church a fan club—“I follow Paul... I follow Apollos... I follow Cephas...” (1 Cor. 1:12). Judgment Day won’t come with a highlight reel of book deals and YouTube views. It will come with a fire that tests each man’s work (1 Cor. 3:13). That should sober us. It should drive us back to simple devotion to Christ—not polished branding, not theological celebrities, not mass-produced study Bibles. As Paul warned:

I am afraid, however, that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may be led astray from your simple and pure devotion to Christ. For if someone comes and proclaims a Jesus other than the One we proclaimed, or if you receive a different spirit than the One you received, or a different gospel than the one you accepted, you put up with it way too easily (2 Cor. 11:3-4).

We’re in trouble already if we quote the preacher more than Scripture, defend him more than Truth, and judge everything else by whether or not it aligned with his commentary. At that point he’s no longer a preacher anymore. He’s a brand.

When a platform replaces the New Testament pattern, then celebrity outranks Scripture. That’s how you get an entire movement where people will gladly rewrite the gospel—but never dare question their favorite preacher.

Platform, celebrity-driven religion makes men untouchable, their errors uncorrectable, and their followers unteachable. It’s the perfect storm of pride, power, and plausible deniability—“How can you believe since you accept glory from one another but do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?” (Jn. 5:44).

Elevating a preacher is bad enough. But defending him while he rewrites the gospel? That’s not just complicity—it’s idolatry. It’s accepting “another gospel,” the very thing the Spirit warned us about (Gal. 1:6–9). Let’s talk about what God actually says about salvation and why ignoring that pattern isn’t just error—it’s eternal suicide.

It’s sad that so many think as long as the preacher is polished, passionate, and says “Jesus” enough times, he’s “preaching the Truth”—even if his gospel could never release one from sin.

We are not called to applaud effort. We are called to test every spirit (1 Jn. 4:1), expose error (Eph. 5:11), and hold to the pattern of sound words (2 Tim. 1:13). That word—pattern—means something. It’s not abstract. It’s not flexible. And it’s not up for revision every time a big-name “pastor” wants to make the message more marketable. How is one brought back into fellowship with God through Jesus Christ?

“Unless you believe that I am He, you will die in your sins” (Jn. 8:24).

“He who believes and is baptized will be saved…” (Mk. 16:16).

“Repent and be baptized… for the forgiveness of your sins” (Acts 2:38).

“Be baptized and wash away your sins, calling on His name” (Acts 22:16).

“All of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death” (Rom. 6:3).

“As many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Gal. 3:27).

“Baptism now saves you—not as a removal of dirt… but as an appeal to God” (1 Pet. 3:21).

If a man, his whole life, taught that baptism is irrelevant to salvation, a mere symbol, something to be celebrated after salvation, that’s not a minor detail. That’s a completely different gospel—and Paul said anyone who teaches that ought to be accursed (Gal. 1:8–9).

If a man preaches grace without obedience, faith without repentance, or salvation without baptism, he’s not preaching what the apostles preached.

“Well, you know, he meant well…”

Did he? Even if you can be sure, is sincerity a substitute for Truth?

Uzzah meant well when he reached out to steady the ark (2 Sam. 6:6–7). God still struck him dead—because he violated the pattern. Intent doesn’t override instruction. Being sincere doesn't make false doctrine safe. If anything, it makes it more dangerous—because people are less likely to question it when it’s delivered with confidence and a clean suit.

This isn't a debate over stylistic differences. This is about whether we will submit to God’s Word or rewrite it to fit our favorites. The plan of salvation is not a theological buffet. It’s not open to innovation, nuance, or softening. It's a rigid, divine blueprint—and any preacher, no matter how famous, who tampers with it is not defending the gospel—he’s defrauding it.

How should we respond when someone wants us to celebrate the legacy of a false teacher? With grief—but not gullibility. With sobriety—but not silence.

You don’t have to join the fan club. You don’t have to pretend decades of doctrinal error are irrelevant just because someone was bold, popular, or spoke truth on politics.

And you certainly don’t have to celebrate a man who consistently misrepresented how God forgives sin.

The goal isn’t to gloat over someone’s death. It’s to guard the truth for the living.

“Do not judge by appearances, but judge with righteous judgment” (Jn. 7:24). Some will tell you, “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” (Matt. 7:1) as if that verse ends the conversation. But Jesus didn’t say, “Judge never.” He said, “Don’t judge like a hypocrite.” The same passage tells us to remove the plank from our own eye so we can see clearly to help others.

If the gospel a man preached is not the gospel the apostles preached, then we don’t honor him by excusing it—we honor Christ by exposing it. In the end, it won’t matter who had the largest crowd, the biggest platform, or the most books sold. What will matter is whether we obeyed the King.

So no, I won’t be joining the chorus of glowing tributes. I’m not celebrating a “legacy” that confused the lost about how to be saved. I’ll leave the final judgment where it belongs—with the Lord (1 Cor. 4:5). But I’ll also keep pointing people to the only name under heaven by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12).

Because Jesus warned:

“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of My Father who is in heaven ” (Matt. 7:21).

Those are not words aimed at atheists. They’re aimed at the religious—at people who called Him “Lord” but didn’t obey what He said. And that ought to sober anyone who builds a ministry on charisma instead of the cross, on platform instead of pattern.