Over the last couple of months, there have been a number of people from my past who have affected me in ways I did not expect.

These were not necessarily people I currently looked to for counsel or had placed on a pedestal. But they were part of my past and, in some respect, part of my Christian life.

When people who were once connected to our faith journey disappoint us, it can affect us more deeply than we expect.

Pastors are sinners. Teachers are sinners. Mentors are sinners. Parents are sinners. Christian leaders are sinners.

And sometimes they fail.

That does not excuse sin or remove the responsibility that comes with leadership. But it does remind me that no person was ever meant to become the foundation of my faith.

Psalm 146:3 says:

“Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help.”

We can respect people, learn from them, and be thankful for the role they played in our lives without putting them in a place that belongs only to God.

When Curiosity Becomes Gossip

When someone we know or respect fails, there is a natural curiosity.

What happened? Why? What is the whole story?

But curiosity can quickly become gossip, and gossip is not limited to being the person spreading the story. Sometimes we participate simply by entertaining a conversation that was never ours to have.

Proverbs 18:8 says:

“The words of a talebearer are as wounds, and they go down into the innermost parts of the belly.”

Even the way we ask questions matters.

Do I actually need this information, or do I simply want to know?

Is this my story to share?

Would I ask this if the person were sitting beside me?

And if an issue genuinely involves us, Scripture gives us direction there too. Matthew 18:15 teaches us, in the context of sin between believers, to go to the person.

Not around them.

Not to five other people first.

To them.

There is wisdom in knowing when to ask, when to speak, when to go directly to someone, and when something simply is not ours to know.

What Am I Teaching My Girls?

This is where this has become particularly convicting for me.

I am not only deciding how I respond to these situations.

I am teaching my girls how to respond too.

They are watching how I talk about people who disappoint me. They are listening when uncomfortable subjects come up. They are learning what I do when someone asks a piercing question or when I hear something shocking about another person.

I want my girls to know they can ask hard questions. Christianity is not afraid of difficult conversations, and honoring someone does not mean pretending sin does not exist.

But I also want them to understand that not every question needs to be asked, not every question deserves an answer, and not everything we know needs to be repeated.

I want them to be able to say, “That isn’t my story to tell.”

I want them to know they can graciously say, “I would rather keep that private.”

I want them to know how to seek truth without chasing gossip, how to show grace without excusing sin, and how to speak directly to someone when something truly needs to be addressed.

Because someday I will not be standing beside them telling them how to respond.

The way I respond now is teaching them how to respond later.

Our Response Creates Ripples Too

Galatians 6:7 says:

“Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”

Sin creates ripples. One person’s choices can affect a spouse, children, a church, friendships, ministries, and even people they have not spoken to in years.

But our response creates ripples too.

Our words travel.

Our reactions travel.

Our faithfulness travels.

And as a mother, I know there are at least two little girls watching mine.

That makes me stop and consider not only what someone else’s actions are producing, but what I am planting through my response.

Pray for Those Who Lead

We also need to pray for our leaders.

First Timothy 2:1–2 tells us to pray “for kings, and for all that are in authority.”

We should pray for our pastors and church leaders. We should pray for teachers. We should pray for those serving our communities, our government officials, and our national leaders.

Not only the ones we like.

Not only the ones we agree with.

Prayer does not mean ignoring wrongdoing or removing accountability.

We can recognize failure and still pray.

We can disagree and still pray.

We can be disappointed and still pray.

Our pastors need prayer. Our teachers need prayer. Our leaders need prayer. They need wisdom, discernment, protection from temptation, and people around them who will speak truth.

And when someone does fall, perhaps our first response should be less about discovering every detail and more about praying for everyone affected.

Keep Your Eyes on Christ

Perhaps this is what I have needed to remember most.

If someone helped point me toward Christ years ago and later made choices that disappointed me, their failure does not undo what God did.

Paul wrote:

“I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.”
1 Corinthians 3:6

People plant.

People water.

But God gives the increase.

The pastor, teacher, mentor, or person who helped point us toward Christ was a vessel.

Vessels are imperfect.

God is not.

Someone else’s choices today cannot erase God’s faithfulness yesterday.

And perhaps this is one of the most important lessons I can pass down to my girls.

People will fail you.

You will fail people too.

Seek truth without chasing gossip. Ask hard questions when they need to be asked. Give grace without compromising truth. Pray for those who lead you. Guard your heart and your words.

And keep your eyes on Christ.

Because our children are watching how we handle the failures of others.

Our words are teaching them.

Our reactions are teaching them.

Our prayers are teaching them.

We are planting something.

What are we teaching the next generation through the way we respond?

“Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” Galatians 6:7 KJV

That verse does not specifically say that every sin will ripple outward through other people’s lives. Its immediate point is that what we sow has consequences.

But I have been reminded lately just how far those consequences can sometimes travel.

A person’s choices can affect a spouse.

Children.

Friends.

A church.

People they mentored.

People who once looked up to them. And sometimes even people they have not spoken to in years.

One choice hits the water, and the ripples travel farther than we ever expected.

But I have realized something else too: Our response can create ripples of its own. The original situation may not have been ours to control.

But what we say about it is. What we repeat is. The questions we ask are.

The conversations we entertain are. Whether we extend grace or add another layer of hurt is.

We are responsible for the ripples we create, even when we were not responsible for the event that started them.

And after thinking through all of this, I keep coming back to something Paul wrote to the Corinthians.

The church at Corinth had begun identifying themselves with particular Christian leaders.

Paul redirected their attention away from the servants and back toward God:

“Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but ministers by whom ye believed… I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.”

1 Corinthians 3:5–6 KJV

That passage has taken on a different meaning for me lately.

There have been people throughout my Christian life who planted.

Others watered. Some taught me. Some encouraged me.

Some were simply part of a season God used to shape me.

And some of those people may eventually disappoint me. But they did not give the increase.

God did.

Their failures today cannot go backward and undo what God did in my life years ago.

I can be thankful for the role someone once played without excusing the choices they make now. I can acknowledge wrongdoing without needing every detail.

I can be disappointed without becoming bitter. I can guard my own words when everyone else’s words are getting louder.

And I can remember that my faith was never supposed to rest on the faithfulness of another human being.

People planted.

People watered.

People were part of my story.

But God gave the increase.