Beyond the Label: Why Christian Titles Are Hindering True Ministry

The essence of Christian leadership, as taught by Jesus Christ Himself, is humility and service. Yet, in many contemporary church settings, an increasing emphasis on elaborate titles and hierarchical structures seems to overshadow these foundational principles. This article explores the growing trend of Christian leaders adopting and demanding specific honorifics, examining its impact on genuine fellowship, spiritual growth, and the broader message of the Gospel.

My personal journey recently intersected with this phenomenon in a way that profoundly highlighted the disconnect between Christ’s teachings and modern practices. It was a serene afternoon, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside my home, when my phone rang. A male voice, unfamiliar yet formal, greeted me.

“Am I speaking to Mrs. N?”

The query was jarring. For years, in every sphere of my life—from casual conversations to market interactions—I had been known simply as “Precious.” The abrupt formality of “Mrs. N” from an unknown caller immediately created a sense of distance. I confirmed my identity, and after a brief pause, the male voice instructed me to hold, only for it to be replaced by a distinctly female voice.

“Hello Mrs. N, this is Pastor Mrs. X speaking.”

My eyes instinctively darted to my phone screen, as if to confirm the caller ID. The voice belonged to Y, a dear friend from my university days. The profound shift in her self-introduction—”Pastor Mrs. X,” deliberately using her husband’s initial rather than her own, and relayed through an assistant—was nothing short of bewildering. This wasn’t the Y I knew; it was a persona I struggled to reconcile with the vivacious, down-to-earth companion with whom I had shared so many of life’s mundane and profound moments.

The Shifting Sands of Friendship: When Titles Erect Barriers

The opening exchange of that phone call remains one of the most anomalous experiences of my life. How could someone with whom I had forged such an intimate bond—sharing laughter, struggles, and everyday life—suddenly adopt such a formal, self-exalting designation? And why the need for a “Personal Assistant” to facilitate a call to an old friend? It felt like a chasm had suddenly opened between us, carved by the very titles intended to denote spiritual authority.

This wasn’t an isolated incident. My mind flashed back to a conversation with Y’s husband weeks prior at a church event. When I inquired about Y, he responded with puffed-up pride, declaring she was now a “big pastor” and implying that access to her now required a “fee.” At the time, I dismissed it as hyperbole, but this phone call lent it a chilling validation. The casual, reciprocal nature of our friendship had, it seemed, been replaced by a transactional hierarchy.

This phenomenon isn’t exclusive to Y. I recall another acquaintance, J, from my early church days. We shared a similar easy camaraderie. After attending Bible school in Nigeria, J returned to Cameroon for a visit, announcing her arrival with a phone call that began, “This is Evangelist J.” It felt less like a friendly update and more like an official pronouncement, a subtle but unmistakable declaration that “levels had changed.” These instances paint a concerning picture of how titles, rather than unifying believers, can inadvertently create artificial divisions and alter the very fabric of personal relationships.

The Erosion of Authentic Connection: A Personal Testimony

Y and I shared a deep bond during our undergraduate years, a sisterhood woven through shared experiences and mutual support. Post-graduation, life led us on different paths; I pursued graduate studies in Nigeria, while Y married and began assisting her husband in his fledgling church ministry in Cameroon. Upon my return, married life and geographical distance naturally meant we weren’t as close, yet the desire to reconnect remained strong. Fate brought us to the same city, rekindling hopes of restoring our old friendship. It was then that the “Pastor Mrs.” call came, signaling a profound shift that I initially struggled to comprehend.

From that day forward, the natural flow of our friendship felt constrained. The ease and familiarity were replaced by an awkward formality. Y even altered her social media profile to include “Pastor” in her name, a public affirmation of her new identity. Months later, during a visit to her home, I finally addressed the elephant in the room. She explained that following her ordination as a pastor in her husband’s church—where he held the titles of prophet and chief Bible school teacher—she had decided to insist on being called “Pastor” or “Madame.” When I gently probed about biblical stipulations for such a demand, she cited the principle of “giving honor to whom honor is due.”

I cautiously asked if I, her long-standing friend, could still address her by her first name. Her unequivocal “no,” and the suggestion to use “Madame” if “Pastor” was too much, solidified my apprehension. She then recounted how a former senior from secondary school, whom she described as “very fat” (a detail whose relevance eluded me), now “revered” her due to her pastoral position. This anecdote, intended to validate her stance, only underscored the problematic nature of demanding respect. True respect, I later conveyed to her, is earned through character and conduct, not legislated by a title. When respect is demanded, and offense taken if not granted, it often reveals an underlying insecurity or a fundamental misunderstanding of genuine human connection.

Throughout our conversation, Y maintained an almost theatrical ‘civility,’ repeatedly addressing me as “Mrs. N,” creating an unnerving distance. The situation escalated to “super weird” when her husband entered the room, greeted by Y with an almost worshipful pronouncement: “The prophet himself! You’re welcome, sah!” The scene was a stark illustration of an imposed hierarchy, a performative display of reverence that felt profoundly unchristian.

The Paradox of Power: Jesus, the Humble King

In my spiritual journey, few things have felt as incongruous with the Christian faith as this insistent imposition of titles. Consider the greatest figure in human history, Jesus Christ. He was the Master of the universe, the celebrated Son of God, capable of feeding thousands, healing the sick, and raising the dead. He was the ultimate teacher, King of all kings, and miracle worker. Yet, He was known simply as “Jesus.”

His authority was never challenged by the simplicity of His name. He didn’t need to be called “Master Prophetic Healer Jesus” to validate His divine identity or power. He never alienated Himself from people who failed to recognize His kingship or appreciate His divine status. On the contrary, He humbled Himself to the point of death on a cross (Philippians 2:8). He never proclaimed, “Look here, I am God, and you better address Me as such!” Yet, He is indeed God, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. His life was a living sermon on servanthood, humility, and authentic connection, principles that stand in stark contrast to the pursuit of grand titles.

Interestingly, as our conversation deepened, Y eventually dropped the pretense and reverted to calling me “Pre!”—a testament to the enduring power of genuine friendship over artificial barriers. She later confided that she had alienated many friends and acquaintances who “didn’t want to respect her,” revealing the lonely consequence of her self-imposed titles. I offered support during a difficult time, sensing her longing for true connection, a longing stifled by the very wall she had erected around herself. The line, “I am a pastor. You better respect me!” extended even to her own family, whom she instructed to abandon the affectionate pet names from her childhood. Her husband, similarly, insisted on being addressed solely as “Prophet.”

The Prophetic Warning: What Scripture Says About Titles

This pervasive trend of so-called pastors, prophets, and “men of God” (or, as I critically observe, “gods of men”) demanding specific titles is alarmingly common. Beyond Y and her husband, I have witnessed countless iterations of this behavior, often driven by self-serving motives rather than genuine humility. As Scripture wisely states, “By their fruits you will know them” (Matthew 7:16). A desperate clinging to a title, as if one’s spiritual identity or authority depends on it, is hardly a fruit of the Spirit.

In an age increasingly prone to superficiality, the craving for high-sounding appellations like “Apostle,” “Bishop,” or “Prophet” has intensified. It’s not uncommon to see young individuals rent a hall, purchase equipment, and then simply adopt one of these titles, sometimes changing them as they progress in what I’ve termed “madnesstry” – a ministry driven by self-exaltation rather than divine calling. One might begin as an “Apostle,” deem it insufficient, then graduate to “Prophet,” and perhaps later settle on “Evangelist” for its perceived charisma. This constant self-rebranding often culminates in what amounts to an “APE” (Apostle, Prophet, Evangelist) of one’s own making.

What is truly striking is the strong offense taken by some when their preferred title is not used. Yet, Jesus Christ Himself explicitly addressed this very issue in Matthew 23:8-12:

“But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have one Teacher, and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Nor are you to be called ‘teacher,’ for you have one Teacher, the Messiah. The greatest among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts themselves will be humbled, and whoever humbles themselves will be exalted.” (NLT)

These words are profoundly convicting. It is lamentable that many Christian leaders, seemingly eager to skip over this direct instruction, yearn to be called “Father” or its colloquial equivalent, “Papa,” even as they criticize other denominations for having a Pope. The glaring hypocrisy often goes unaddressed: what essential difference remains between a “Papa” and a “Pope” when both demand hierarchical reverence?

Many contemporary Christian leaders, much like the Pharisees and scribes Jesus critiqued, are consumed by a desire for fame and power. This pursuit has become so normalized within certain Christian circles that it no longer appears anomalous. However, the Bible reminds us that “narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it. Broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it” (Matthew 7:13-14). True discipleship often means walking a path less traveled, one marked by humility rather than self-exaltation.

The True Measure of Ministry: Work, Not Titles

Pastor, if your name is Ezekiel, and I address you as “Ezekiel,” what transgression have I committed? Your primary focus should be on diligently fulfilling the divine mandate entrusted to you, not on dictating how people address you. There is no scriptural injunction that forbids believers from using the name given to them at birth. The obsession with specific designations subtly dilutes the profound essence of Christianity itself.

Why would individuals who profess to follow Jesus—the epitome of humility—be so fixated on particular appellations? Which holds greater significance: the title itself or the work undertaken in the name of Christ? If you are a pastor named Reuben, does being called “Reuben” in any way diminish your pastoral responsibilities or undermine your calling? Absolutely not. The work, the fruit of your ministry, is what truly matters, not the label attached to it.

While believers may choose to address a pastor as “Pastor” out of genuine reverence, a leader who attempts to coerce or shame people into using a specific title exhibits a behavior that verges on the psychologically unhealthy. It reflects a misplaced focus, diverting attention from the selfless service Christ exemplified to a narcissistic preoccupation with personal recognition.

My name is Precious. Should I earn a doctorate tomorrow, I will still be Precious. Should I become a renowned speaker or an acclaimed author, I will remain Precious. My friends will always be my friends; we will converse, laugh, and share high-fives without the barrier of contrived titles. My fellow Christians will always be my brothers and sisters in Christ. To place myself above them, to demand special deference based on a title, would be to manifest the antithesis of Christ-likeness.

As Christians, we are called to be the light of the world, illuminating paths with the Gospel message, delivered in the same humility that Jesus demonstrated. The most impactful message we convey is the one people read from our lives. Let us not inadvertently push others away, or create unnecessary divisions, through an irrelevant and unbiblical obsession with titles. It is the sincere work of ministry, the genuine love, and the humble service that truly reflect the heart of God. In Christ, regardless of our roles or earthly designations, we are all one.

“For you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Galatians 3:28b