“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” — Matthew 6:21
Paul Tripp tells a story about a pastor who came to him in despair. His church plant was struggling. His team was fractured. His marriage was strained. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” the man said. “I’m praying. I’m preaching. I’m doing everything right.”
Tripp looked at him and said something that cut to the bone: “Ministry is war. But you’re fighting the wrong enemy.”
The pastor, like so many of us, had been blaming external circumstances—difficult team members, limited resources, cultural resistance, the spiritual apathy of his city. But the real battle was raging somewhere else entirely.
It was raging in his own heart.
The Kingdom of Self vs. The Kingdom of God
Every Christian leader faces an internal war that most of us would rather ignore. It’s the war between the kingdom of self and the kingdom of God—not out there in the culture, but right here in the depths of our own souls.
This is not the kind of battle that shows up on your church dashboard. You won’t find it in your attendance numbers, your giving reports, or your small group multiplication metrics. It’s hidden. It’s subtle. And it’s devastating.
Tripp’s framework is devastatingly simple: We blame our struggles on external factors when the real problem is internal idolatry. We point fingers at difficult people, tight budgets, and resistant cultures when the true enemy is our own unacknowledged ambition, our hidden desire for recognition, our secret craving for control.
The Heidelberg Catechism, that jewel of Reformed theology, asks in Question 1: “What is your only comfort in life and in death?” The answer is glorious: “That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.”
But here’s the problem: we don’t actually believe that. Not fully. Not when it costs us something. Not when belonging to Christ means not belonging to ourselves—our plans, our reputation, our carefully constructed ministry empire.
How the War Manifests
This internal war manifests in ways we rarely recognize:
We preach grace but practice performance. Our sermons celebrate the finished work of Christ, but our leadership demands more—more hours, more sacrifice, more results. We become functional Pharisees, binding heavy burdens on others while claiming to proclaim liberty.
We confuse faithfulness with fruitfulness. When numbers plateau, we panic. We assume God’s favor is measured in attendance graphs and baptism counts. But Spurgeon—who knew something about ministry pressure—warned: “It is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness.” The same is true of ministry. Faithfulness is our duty; fruitfulness is God’s business.
We hide behind spiritual language. We call our ambition “vision.” We call our control issues “leadership.” We call our insecurity “high standards.” The kingdom of self is a master of disguise, cloaking itself in the language of spiritual maturity while undermining the very gospel we claim to proclaim.
We neglect the one discipline that matters most. We’re experts at reading books on leadership, attending conferences on church growth, and implementing the latest discipleship strategies. But when was the last time we sat in silence before God and asked: “Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. See if there be any grievous way in me” (Psalm 139:23-24)?
The Demons Think Rightly
Fabs Harford, writing for Verge Network, offers a piercing insight: “Those strong in thinking tend to think if thoughts are right then people will start to feel rightly and act rightly. But the demons think rightly—evidencing that right thoughts about God don’t equal worship.”
This is the trap of the intellectual Reformed tradition we love so much. We can have our soteriology straight, our covenant theology airtight, our eschatology carefully constructed—and still be worshipping the idol of our own theological correctness. The demons have better theology than we do. What they lack is love.
True discipleship—and true leadership—doesn’t neglect or reduce human faculties. It engages the whole person: thoughts, feelings, and actions. But it starts with something deeper than all three. It starts with treasure.
Jesus said it plainly: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” The heart follows the treasure. Not the other way around. You cannot think your way into loving God. You cannot feel your way into loving God. You cannot act your way into loving God. You must treasure Him.
The Path to Victory
So what’s the way forward? How do we fight—and win—this internal war?
First, we must identify our true treasure. This requires ruthless honesty. What do you think about when you’re alone? What drives your decision-making when no one is watching? What are you building—God’s kingdom or your own? The questions are simple. The answers are often devastating.
Second, we must pursue eternal impact over earthly success. The church growth movement taught us to measure what matters. But what if we’ve been measuring the wrong things? What if the metrics that matter most—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control—don’t show up on our dashboards?
Third, we must embrace grace as the foundation for all ministry. This is where the Reformed tradition shines. We are not saved by our performance, sustained by our discipline, or validated by our fruitfulness. We are saved by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. And that grace is not just the entry point to the Christian life—it’s the entire journey.
Calvin, in his Institutes, wrote: “The whole life of Christians ought to be a sort of practice of godliness, in which they are trained by the cross.” The cross—not the crown. The cross of self-denial, of dying to our kingdom so that His might advance. The cross of brokenness, of coming to the end of ourselves and finding Christ sufficient.
When Ministry Becomes Worship
Here’s the paradox at the heart of the Christian life: the moment ministry becomes about us, it ceases to be ministry. The moment we begin building our own kingdom, we forfeit the privilege of building His.
But the reverse is also gloriously true: when we come to the end of ourselves—when we acknowledge the bankruptcy of our own righteousness, the impotence of our own strength, the futility of our own ambition—something remarkable happens. Ministry becomes worship. Leadership becomes service. Preaching becomes prayer. And the kingdom of self collapses before the kingdom of God.
This is the freedom we were made for. Not the freedom to build our own empires, but the freedom to be His. Not the freedom to be recognized, but the freedom to be hidden in Christ. Not the freedom to succeed, but the freedom to be faithful.
John Newton, the slave-trader turned hymn-writer, understood this. In his old age, when asked about his ministry, he said: “I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world—but I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am.”
That is the testimony of a man who has fought the internal war and found that grace is sufficient. That is the testimony we need. That is the testimony our churches need.
The Battle Is Worth Fighting
Ministry is war. But it’s not primarily a war against cultural decline, theological drift, or spiritual apathy. Those are real battles, but they’re not the decisive one.
The decisive battle is the one raging in your heart right now. Between your kingdom and His. Between your glory and His. Between your treasure and the pearl of great price.
And here’s the good news: this is a war Christ has already won. The kingdom of self is doomed. The kingdom of God is advancing. And by His grace, we get to participate—not as casualties, but as conquerors.
So fight. Fight the good fight of faith. Fight to believe that He is better than whatever you’re clinging to. Fight to treasure Him above all else. Fight to build His kingdom, not yours.
The war within is the war that matters most. And by God’s grace, it’s a war we can win—one surrendered moment at a time.
What internal battles are you facing in ministry? How has God used brokenness to shape your leadership? Share in the comments—we’re in this war together.
Recommended Resources:
- Dangerous Calling by Paul David Tripp
- The Reformed Pastor by Richard Baxter
- Lectures to My Students by Charles Spurgeon
- Heidelberg Catechism, Questions 1-5