I was sitting in my study the other day, the morning light just starting to filter through the window, and I had my phone out. I was checking in with my "Inner Circle" on Voxer—that’s a group where we really get into the deep things of the supernatural and the walk with Jesus. As I was listening to the brothers share their hearts, a heavy realization hit me. It was like a weight dropped into the room. We were talking about leadership, about the desire to stand up and speak for God, and suddenly, the words of James started ringing in my spirit like a bell that wouldn't stop.
The pain point for so many of us is this: we feel a fire in our bones, and we want to run out and tell the world. We want the platform. We want to be the one with the "revelation." But there is a hidden danger in the rush. We see a world in chaos—a culture that has forgotten which bathroom to use and has lost its very identity—and we think the solution is for us to grab the microphone immediately. We feel the agitation of seeing truth suppressed, and our knee-jerk reaction is to become a master of the Word before we’ve even learned to be a servant of the Spirit.
But here is the solution preview, and it’s a sobering one: the path to true teaching isn't found in a fast-track promotion. It’s found in the wilderness, in the 2,000 cubits of space between us and the Ark, and in the brokenness of a man like Peter who had to lose his pride before he could feed the sheep. If you want to lead, you have to understand the "greater condemnation." You have to realize that Jesus is the Way, not just the destination, and there are bridges you must cross personally before you can ever hope to lead anyone else across them.
Let's look at the scripture that started this whole train of thought. My brethren, be not many masters, knowing that we shall receive the greater condemnation (James 3:1 KJV). When James wrote that, he wasn't just giving a suggestion. This is James, one of the "inner three" along with Peter and John. He saw the Transfiguration. He heard the heartbeat of God. When he says "masters," the Greek word there is didaskalos. It means an instructor, a doctor, a teacher.
Think about the weight of that. In the Jewish tradition, the path to becoming a "master" was grueling. I remember being told years ago about how this worked. Imagine a little boy, only six years old. While other kids are just playing in the dirt, he is sat down and told to start memorizing Leviticus. Can you imagine? Leviticus. The laws, the sacrifices, the minutiae of the tabernacle. By the time he’s thirteen—his Bar Mitzvah—if he’s got the calling, he has to have the entire Torah memorized. The first five books of the Bible, burned into his brain. And even then, with all that knowledge, he wasn't allowed to teach until he was thirty.
That’s why Jesus didn't start His public ministry until He was thirty. He was following the order. We see Him at twelve years old in the temple, sitting among the doctors of the law, asking them questions. I can see the scene in my mind: the dusty floor of the temple courts, the smell of incense in the air, and this young boy with eyes like fire, confounding the grey-bearded experts. He had the knowledge, but He waited. He submitted to the process.
Today, we have people who get a "word" or a single revelation and they want to start a YouTube channel the next day. They want to be a "master" immediately. But James warns us: there is a greater doom, a greater condemnation for those who take that seat. Why? Because as a teacher, you are a steward of the Ark.
I was thinking about the children of Israel crossing into the Promised Land. They had spent forty years in that howling wilderness. The old generation—the ones who complained about wanting the leeks and onions of Egypt—had all died off. This was a new people, a people who had been immersed in the Torah as it was being written. They were living it out. And yet, even among them, there was a specific protocol for following the presence of God.
In Joshua, it says: And they commanded the people, saying, When ye see the ark of the covenant of the Lord your God, and the priests the Levites bearing it, then ye shall remove from your place, and go after it. Yet there shall be a space between you and it, about two thousand cubits by measure: come not near unto it, that ye may know the way by which ye must go: for ye have not passed this way before (Joshua 3:3-4 KJV).
Two thousand cubits. That’s about 3,000 feet—over half a mile. Why the distance? If the Ark is right in the middle of the crowd, only the people in the front can see it. But if it’s way out in front, everyone can see the direction it's moving. As teachers and leaders, we are like those priests carrying the Ark. We have to be far enough out in front that we can show the way, but not so far that the people lose sight of the presence.
And here’s the kicker: we are stewards of that presence. We can't be "too close" in a way that makes the holy seem common. There has to be a sanctification, a setting apart. Joshua told the people, Sanctify yourselves: for tomorrow the Lord will do wonders among you (Joshua 3:5 KJV). If you want to see the supernatural, if you want to see the "wonders", you have to understand that it starts with sanctification, not just information.
My friend Joseph said something the other day that really stuck with me. He said, "Conrad, you’ve got to get to the bridge before you can cross it." We were talking about deep theology, the kind of stuff that makes your head spin. And it hit me: Jesus is the Way. He said, no man cometh unto the Father, but by me (John 14:6 KJV). He is the bridge. But in our walk, we encounter smaller "bridges" of revelation and conviction.
The problem is that once we cross a bridge—maybe God convicts us about a certain lifestyle choice or gives us a deeper understanding of a scripture—we immediately want to turn around and start taking shots at the people who haven't even reached the bridge yet. We want to club them over the head with our new conviction. That’s a fleshly, knee-jerk reaction. Just because you’ve crossed a bridge doesn't mean you're the Master of the Bridge. You’re just a traveler who found the way.
Personal Reflections
I’ve had to learn this the hard way. I look at Peter, and I see so much of myself in his early days. Peter was bold, he was quick to pop off, quick to say whatever was on his mind. He’d say, "Lord, I’ll never deny you!" and then five minutes later, he’s cutting off an ear or cowering in front of a servant girl.
I remember times in my own ministry where I thought I had the "meat" for everybody, and I’d just start dumping it on people who weren't ready. I was trying to force them across a bridge they hadn't even seen yet. I had to learn what it meant to have a broken spirit. After Peter denied the Lord, something changed in him. He went through an ordeal that broke his flesh. You can almost smell the charcoal fire of that breakfast on the beach in John 21. Jesus asks him, "Do you love me?" and then tells him, "Feed my sheep."
That was Peter's commissioning, but it came after the breaking. It came after he realized he couldn't do it in his own strength. We need to come under the "mission" of God—that’s what sub-mission means. Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you (James 4:7 KJV). If we don't submit to the process, if we don't let God break that "teacher's pride" in us, the devil is going to have a field day with our ministry.
I’ve spent years writing about these things, whether it's in my books or on ConradRocks.net. In my book Overcoming Night Terror: Making the Demons Leave, I talk about the reality of the spiritual battle. You cannot teach people how to overcome if you haven't been in the trenches yourself. You can't just quote a manual; you have to have the scars.
I’ve realized that sometimes my "Ark" was too close to the people. I wanted to be everyone's buddy instead of a steward of the Word. Other times, I was so far out in some deep revelation that I forgot to make sure the people could still see the Way. Jesus corrected me by reminding me that He spoke in parables for a reason. He said He did it so that seeing they might not see, and hearing they might not understand (Luke 8:10 KJV).
That sounds harsh until you realize that truth is a pearl. You don't cast pearls before swine. Jesus spoke cryptically to see who was actually hungry. If you’re hungry, you’ll dig. If you’re just looking for entertainment, you’ll move on. As teachers, we need to provide "meat in due season," as it says in Matthew 24:45. We have to be faithful and wise servants who know what the household needs right now, not just what makes us look smart.
Biblical References
When we talk about this "greater condemnation," we have to look at the responsibility of the steward. The Bible is clear that the Lord confirms His word. And they went forth, and preached every where, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. Amen (Mark 16:20 KJV).
If you are truly teaching under the anointing, there will be signs. I’m not saying you should chase signs—Jesus warned against that—but signs should follow the believer. If there is no life, no change, no supernatural "confirming" of the message, then we have to ask: are we teaching from the Spirit or just from the intellect?
Paul the Apostle is the perfect example of this. The man had the scriptures memorized. He knew the Tanakh inside and out. But he was using that knowledge to kill Christians until he met Jesus on the road to Damascus. He was "Anti-Christ" while being a "Master of the Word." It wasn't until he met the Living Word that his teaching became life. He wrote two-thirds of the New Testament, but he did it from a place of being a "prisoner of the Lord."
Then there's that passage in 1 John that people love to take out of context: But the anointing which ye have received of him abideth in you, and ye need not that any man teach you: but as the same anointing teacheth you of all things, and is truth, and is no lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye shall abide in him (1 John 2:27 KJV).
People use that to say, "I don't need any teachers! I just have the Holy Spirit!" But look at who’s saying it—John, a teacher, is teaching them! What he’s saying is that once you reach a certain level of maturity, you have an internal "witness" that helps you discern truth. But we still need mentors. Paul mentored Timothy. Elijah mentored Elisha. We need that 2,000-cubit gap sometimes to see where the veterans of the faith are headed.
Key Takeaways
- Respect the Weight: Teaching isn't a hobby; it carries "greater condemnation" (James 3:1).
- Embrace the Process: Don't skip the "memorizing Leviticus" phase of your life. Growth takes time.
- Mind the Gap: Stay far enough ahead to lead, but close enough to be seen. Stewardship requires distance and holiness.
- Cross Your Own Bridge: Don't judge others for not being where you are. Focus on your own sanctification first.
- Feed, Don't Club: Provide "meat in due season" based on what the Spirit is revealing, not just what your flesh wants to say.
Conclusion and Call to Action
The world doesn't need more "masters" who are in love with their own voices. It needs stewards who are in love with the Presence. It needs men and women who have spent time in the wilderness, who have had their spirits broken and remade by the Master Carpenter, and who carry the Ark with fear and trembling.
If you feel called to teach, I encourage you: don't rush. Dig into the Word. Spend time on your knees. Let the anointing teach you in the secret place before you try to stand in the public place.
If this message has touched you or challenged your walk, I want to hear about it. Are you facing a "bridge" right now? Are you feeling the weight of the "greater condemnation"? Leave a comment below. And if you want to dive deeper into the supernatural walk, check out my books and the other episodes here on ConradRocks.net. Let's go higher and dig deeper together.
God bless you as you follow the Way.
Action Items
- Audit Your Intentions: Spend thirty minutes in prayer this week asking the Holy Spirit to reveal if your desire to teach stems from pride or a genuine call to stewardship.
- Study the "Silent Years": Read through the Gospel of Luke and pay close attention to the gap between Jesus at age twelve and age thirty. Meditate on the value of preparation.
- Identify Your Bridge: Write down one area of conviction or theology you've recently "crossed over" into. Commit to not using that new knowledge as a "club" against others for the next thirty days.
- Memorize a "Stewardship Verse": Commit 1 Peter 5:2-3 to memory this week to remind yourself of the heart required for leadership.
- Engage with Mentorship: Reach out to someone further along the path than you and ask for their perspective on a "bridge" you are currently trying to cross.
No comments:
Post a Comment