The Pulpit and the Cross
When Preaching Crucifies the Ego
Dr. Chuck Hill — February 26, 2026
Several years ago, I read an article on preaching by Lenny Luchetti, Associate Professor at Indiana Wesleyan University. One line has stayed with me and continues to search my heart: “Preaching is perfectly designed for the crucifixion of the ego and if our ego doesn’t get crucified, our ministry will.”1 In that single statement, he names a danger we rarely discuss yet regularly face.
Let’s be clear, the pulpit is a sacred space. Not because of its location, but because of its function. It is the place where God’s Word is opened and His voice is declared. Yet it is also a revealing place. It quietly exposes the motives of the one who stands to proclaim and uncovers what truly drives the heart behind the message.
Each week we stand before people with an open Bible and their attention fixed. They listen. They respond. Some are stirred. Some are grateful. Some are critical. Yet something deeper than communication is taking place. Even as the Gospel is proclaimed, the Holy Spirit is at work within the preacher, searching the heart and examining hidden motives.
Preaching cannot be reduced to content delivery. It is an act of surrender. It is a steady dying to self so that Christ may be clearly seen and faithfully heard. Paul captures this in Galatians 2:20 when he writes, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (NIV).
The Greek word translated “I” is ego, the term from which we derive our English word ego. Paul is speaking of the self at the center, the part that seeks control, recognition, and significance. So when he says, “I have been crucified with Christ,” he is not describing inconvenience. He is describing death. It is the surrender of self rule and the yielding of life to Christ’s authority. The old self is dethroned, and Christ is crowned as ruler in its place.
That truth carries weight for those entrusted with preaching. The pulpit will either expose and refine the ego or subtly empower it. The same platform that magnifies Christ can, if we are not careful, magnify us. That is why preaching must continually drive us back to the cross.
The danger is subtle. We may begin with a sincere desire to serve Christ and shepherd His people, yet over time our focus can drift. Affirmation can begin to matter more than obedience. The reaction of the crowd can feel more significant than the smile of God. Gradually, we begin evaluating preaching by how well we performed rather than how faithfully we served.
Ego in the pulpit rarely appears as open pride. More often it hides beneath insecurity. It replays comments long after the service ends. It compares itself to other voices online. It softens conviction to preserve acceptance. It elevates style in pursuit of applause. What appears to be diligence can, in truth, be self protection.
In our digital world, affirmation is easily quantified. We can track views, count likes, and monitor reposts within minutes of preaching. If we are not careful, we begin measuring impact by metrics rather than by faithfulness.
When our need for validation seeps into the message, Christ is displaced. The content may remain biblically grounded, yet the focus shifts from faithfulness to performance. That is why Paul writes, “For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Corinthians 4:5, NIV).
The pulpit does not exist to showcase personality, talent, or intellect. It exists to exalt the Lord Jesus.
Ironically, preaching is one of God’s chosen instruments for forming humility in us. We study texts we cannot exhaust. We proclaim truths we did not author. We call others to obedience in areas where we ourselves are still being shaped. If we are honest, every sermon must first do its work in us before it can be proclaimed with integrity to others. Transformation does not flow from our charisma, but from the Word of God and the power of His Spirit.
The fruit of a crucified ego is a different kind of preacher. One who speaks boldly without needing to impress. One who receives encouragement without attaching identity to praise. One who endures criticism without collapsing. One who prepares diligently yet entrusts the outcome to God.
Excellence still matters. People deserve our best. But applause does not define success. This kind of preaching labors over clarity and application without putting style before substance. It enters the pulpit with confidence while trusting the Lord to save, convict, heal, and build as He sees fit.
When preaching is driven by ego, ministry becomes exhausting. Every sermon feels like a verdict on our worth. But when the ego has been crucified, preaching becomes worship rather than performance. We are no longer striving to prove ourselves. We are offering ourselves to God. And this surrender is not a one time act. It is a weekly return to the cross, a quiet moment before we stand to preach when we ask, “Will this be about me, or will this be about Christ?”
The goal is not to diminish ourselves, but to magnify Christ. When Paul writes in Galatians 2:20, “I no longer live, but Christ lives in me,” he describes a life so completely surrendered that Christ becomes the governing center of identity and the guiding force behind all we do.
Preaching is both a sacred privilege and a refining fire. If we allow it, the pulpit will shape us into servants whose lives align with our message. When the ego is crucified, Christ is seen more clearly, the Word carries greater weight, and we walk in deeper freedom. Preaching becomes what it was always meant to be: a conduit for the grace of God.
So may we never protect our ego at the expense of the gospel. And may the cross we proclaim each week remain the place where our ego gladly dies.
- Lenny Luchetti, “How to Bake a Good Sermon,” CT Pastors, June 15, 2015, https://www.christianitytoday.com/pastors/content/how-to-bake-good-sermon/.