woe to you when all men speak well of you
“[We] are being persuaded to spend money we don’t have, on things we don’t need, to create impressions that won’t last, on people we don’t care about.”
Tim Jackson
“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven."
Jesus
When I first moved to New York in 2005, I met with every Christian leader who would give me time.
I wanted to learn what ministry was like in the city.
I wanted wisdom on how to start a church, reach people far from God, and avoid the traps most people fall into when they move here. I received a lot of wisdom from various sources, but there was one man who gave me advice that has haunted me to this day. It was also the shortest meeting of them all.
___________________________________
Stan Oakes was the president of The King’s College for many years. He had a wise and gentlemanly demeanor, but you could tell he could throw down if he needed to.
A friend introduced us and set up the meeting, so I started my spiel:
“I’m a young leader with a desire to learn from others in the city who have been here longer than me. I’m asking for any advice you would give me as I start a church in New York.”
He had this big book he had written something in, and he opened the page and read the following words to me from Luke’s Gospel:
“Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you.” — Luke 6:26
“That’s really what you need to know about doing ministry in this city,” he said. “You can’t love the city biblically and need its approval at the same time.”
He offered a few kind words of hospitality, and that was it.
No 10-year strategy. No reading list. No “Let me tell you how we did it back in the day.”
Just a warning, and a holy warning at that.
That was the shortest, most insightful advice I have ever been given.
___________________________________
We live in a world of reputational management. Maybe it’s because we have a fear of being canceled. Maybe because there’s biblical truth to a good name. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because we want to be liked and need the approval of others more than we’re willing to admit.
Psychologists call this our “social mirror”; we see ourselves not as we are, but as we believe others see us. This deep need to be affirmed, admired, and accepted is hardwired into our nervous system. It touches something primal in us, the longing to belong.
But here’s the problem: if your identity is always up for vote, you will live in chronic anxiety—always adjusting, always performing.
Stan’s advice would ring out in my heart and test me deeply five years later when our church plant was featured in the New York Times on Easter Sunday (you can read the article here).
Being called “The Evangelical Squad” wasn’t exactly a compliment. Something in me bristled at how we were presented. We were caricatured a bit; well-dressed kids with Bibles moving into neighborhoods to do something old in a new way. But then I remembered those nine words.
I wasn’t called to be spoken well of by New York City; I was called to be spoken well of by Jesus.
We did our best to contextualize, preach the truth in love, and genuinely serve our community. But the gospel doesn’t always get applause. It is, as Paul said, “the aroma of life to those being saved, and the aroma of death to those who are perishing.” (2 Corinthians 2:15–16)
___________________________________
“Woe to you…” These are strong words. Jesus isn’t issuing a casual suggestion here. He’s throwing a warning flare into the sky. When you shape your life around universal approval, you may find you’ve walked off the narrow path. At some point, being faithful to Jesus will put you out of step with culture, critics, and even your own desire to be liked.
This doesn’t mean we chase offense; it means we choose obedience over optics, clarity over comfort, and truth over trends.
Leonard Ravenhill said, “The early Church was married to poverty, prisons and persecutions. Today, the church is married to prosperity, personality, and popularity.”
He goes on to say…
“If we displease God, does it matter whom we please? If we please Him, does it matter whom we displease?
The temptation today is subtle: blend in just enough to gain a following, be edgy but not holy, be spiritual but not surrendered.
I constantly remind myself not to mistake human applause for divine affirmation or to confuse a crowd with a calling.
Sociologists note that living to be universally liked is not only exhausting but also unsustainable. It requires constant self-surveillance, emotional regulation, and social calibration. You have to remember what version of yourself you presented to which group. It’s not just tiring; it fragments the soul.
But Jesus offers something scandalously freeing—you can be fully known and still deeply loved. You no longer need to edit yourself for mass approval when you’re already approved by the One who matters most.
His invitation isn’t “Be impressive”; it’s “Be faithful.”
___________________________________
There is a deeper kind of success, a hidden kind, that doesn’t show up in headlines or follower counts but echoes in eternity. That’s the kind worth building your life on. Let the world misunderstand you, so long as Christ understands you. Let the city mislabel you, so long as your name is known in heaven.
As much as I love New York and consider it my home, I am only passing through. Even if I am here 40 years, I will still just be an interim pastor. The next generation will lead, I will leave, and the gospel will go forward.
Stan was right.
Woe to you when all men speak well of you.
But the reverse is also true. Blessed are you when Jesus speaks well of you.
Will you join me this week in making that the only voice that truly matters?
Cheers.
Jon.
Discussion Questions:
In what hidden place of your life are you quietly shaping your choices more around approval than obedience, and what fear is keeping you from bringing it into the light?
When did your love for culture last lead you to compromise your convictions just enough to stay liked, and how did you justify it to yourself?
Whose opinion do you fear losing the most, and how is that shaping who you’re becoming when no one’s watching?
What relationship or opportunity have you lost, or watered down, because living fully into the gospel felt too costly?
If the only reward for faithfulness was being known and approved by Jesus, not seen or celebrated by anyone else, what would you start doing differently today?
