The Unspoken Hierarchy: Navigating Christian Titles and True Humility

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as I sat on my porch, enjoying the rare cool breeze, when my phone vibrated with an incoming call. I answered, a stranger’s male voice on the other end.

“Am I speaking to Mrs. N?” he inquired.

The question struck me as odd. For years, in every sphere of my life – conversations, market interactions, even daydreams – I’d been known simply as “Precious.” Who was this person, on this tranquil afternoon, addressing me with such formality? I confirmed my identity. The mysterious caller, who neglected to introduce himself, asked me to hold. Moments later, a familiar female voice greeted me.

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

I must have stared at my phone in utter disbelief. The voice belonged to Y, a close friend from my undergraduate days. Yet, she introduced herself not as Y, but as “Pastor Mrs. X,” adopting a title tied to her husband’s assumed name. The bizarre formality, coupled with the strange protocol of going through a “Personal Assistant,” sent a shiver of discomfort down my spine. What had happened to Y, my companion in shared laughter, cooked meals, and uninhibited moments?

A Friendship Transformed: The Sudden Shift in Identity

This opening line of the call was, without exaggeration, one of the most anomalous incidents in my life. How could someone with whom I shared such raw, authentic moments suddenly address me, and herself, with such a stiff, formal title? It felt like a chasm had opened between us, a barrier constructed out of an unexpected quest for status.

My mind immediately replayed an encounter from weeks prior. I had met Y’s husband, a pastor, at a church event in another town. When I asked after my friend, he puffed out his chest and declared with an air of self-importance that she was now a “big pastor” and that I would need to “pay money to see her.” At the time, I dismissed it as an odd, perhaps even jocular, remark. I didn’t fully grasp the implications until this “epic call” arrived, confirming the depth of the shift.

This wasn’t an isolated incident. I recalled another acquaintance, J, from my church days. We too had shared simple, unpretentious moments. After attending Bible school in Nigeria, she visited Cameroon and introduced herself to me as “Evangelist J.” It seemed a calculated announcement that “levels had changed.” This growing trend of adopting formal titles, sometimes seemingly for the sole purpose of establishing a new social or spiritual hierarchy, became increasingly apparent.

Returning to Y, my buddy from university: we were inseparable during our student years, more like sisters than friends. After graduation, I pursued graduate studies in Nigeria while Y remained in Cameroon, married, and began assisting her husband with his nascent church ministry. Upon my return, married myself, our geographical separation naturally reduced our proximity. Yet, we cherished our bond and actively sought ways to reconnect. Fate, or perhaps divine orchestration, brought us to the same city, and we eagerly planned a reunion. Then came the call, and the jarring introduction of “Pastor Mrs. X.” There was no hint of jest; she was deadly serious.

From that day forward, the easy flow of our friendship fractured. I, the “common Christian,” found myself unable to relate to the “Pastor’s wife” as before. She even updated her Facebook profile to conspicuously include “Pastor” in her name, a digital affirmation of her newly adopted persona.

The Quest for Honor: Unpacking the “Pastor” Mandate

A few months later, I visited Y, and the conversation naturally gravitated towards this sensitive subject. As we sat in her living room, she explained that after her ordination as a pastor in her husband’s church – where he served as prophet and chief Bible school teacher – she had decided to officially adopt the title. She asserted that everyone MUST address her as “Pastor” or “Madame.” I probed, asking if this was a biblical stipulation. She cited a verse about giving honor where honor is due, a common justification for such demands.

To ensure I wasn’t misunderstanding, I asked point-blank if I, her long-time friend, could still call her by her first name. Her answer was a firm no. I should use “Madame” if “Pastor” felt too imposing. She then recounted how a woman, previously her senior in secondary school and physically larger (a detail she oddly emphasized!), now deeply revered her because of her pastoral position. She insisted I needed to witness this respect firsthand. Later, I would tell Y that true respect is earned through character and conduct, not demanded by a title. When someone insists on being respected and takes offense if not granted, it often signals a deeper insecurity, a misalignment where position overshadows personhood.

Throughout our conversation, Y meticulously maintained her self-imposed “civility” by consistently referring to me as “Mrs. N.” It was undeniably weird, creating a palpable distance between two old friends.

Then, her husband entered the room. Y’s demeanor instantly transformed. Her voice boomed with exaggerated deference: “The prophet himself! You’re welcome, sah!” It was super weird, an almost theatrical display of reverence. Her husband, basking in the glow of her accolades, simply smiled, absorbing the praise poured upon him by his wife.

In my journey through faith, this imposition and insistence on titles stands out as one of the most un-Christian phenomena I have ever encountered. It felt like an inverse of the very principles Jesus exemplified.

When Jesus Spoke: Reconsidering Titles in Light of Scripture

The Master’s Example: Simplicity in Greatness

Consider the greatest man who ever walked the earth: Jesus. He is the Master of the universe, the most celebrated figure in history. He simply strolled through towns, and thousands followed Him. He is the ultimate teacher, the King of all kings, the miracle worker beyond compare. Yet, He was called Jesus. Simple. Unadorned. His divine authority was never challenged by the absence of a grand title.

He never needed to insist on being called “Master Prophetic Jesus” to validate His identity or His mission. He was all that and infinitely more, without demanding specific appellations. He did not alienate Himself from people because they failed to recognize or appreciate His kingship. Instead, He consistently demonstrated unparalleled humility, even to the point of a sacrificial death on a cross. He never declared, “Look here, I am God, and you better address me as such!” Yet, He *is* God, the Way, the Truth, and the Life, embodying power and grace without needing the props of human titles.

He washed the feet of His disciples, dined with tax collectors and sinners, and healed the sick without demanding homage for His position. His leadership was defined by service, not by an elevated status or a revered designation. This stark contrast between Jesus’s approach and the modern obsession with titles highlights a profound divergence from authentic Christian principles.

A Clear Warning: Matthew 23:8-12 Revisited

As our conversation progressed, Y struggled to maintain her “Mrs.” formality, eventually breaking into “Pre!” as our discussion grew more animated. It was a fleeting glimpse of the old Y, confirming that the imposed barrier was artificial and unsustainable. She confessed that her insistence on titles had alienated her from many friends and acquaintances who “didn’t want to respect her.” I was one of the few who remained close, primarily because she was navigating a difficult period, and I felt compelled to offer support.

During our talks, I sensed her deep longing for genuine friendship and connection, a void created by the very barrier she had erected: “I am a pastor. You better respect me!” She had even instructed her own family members to abandon the affectionate pet names they had used since her childhood, further isolating herself in the pursuit of a perceived, self-imposed dignity.

Y’s husband, too, proudly referred to himself as a prophet, expecting everyone to address him by that title. This trend, where so-called pastors, prophets, and “men of God” (who often become gods of men) insist on specific titles, has become disturbingly common. Beyond Y and her husband, I’ve witnessed this phenomenon repeatedly. These individuals, driven by self-aggrandizement and a thirst for power, seem to forget the scripture: “By their fruits you shall know them” (Matthew 7:16). Clinging to a title as if one’s spiritual validity depends on it is, in my opinion, hardly a display of good fruit.

It’s important to recognize that Jesus clearly 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 ‘master,’ for you have one Master, the Christ. The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” NIV

These words from Jesus are profoundly significant. It is disheartening to observe how many Christian leaders seem to have overlooked or deliberately skipped this critical part of the Bible. They yearn to be called “Father,” often colloquially translated as “Papa,” while simultaneously criticizing Catholics for having a Pope. The hypocrisy is glaring: what fundamental difference exists between demanding to be called “Papa” and respecting the title of “Pope” if both stem from a desire for human veneration?

Many contemporary Christian leaders exhibit the same conceit as the Pharisees and scribes Jesus described in this passage. They crave fame, power, and human recognition. This behavior has become so prevalent that it almost appears normal. Yet, the Bible reminds us that “narrow is the way that leads to life, and broad is the way that leads to destruction” (Matthew 7:13). The pursuit of self-exaltation through titles steers away from the narrow path.

The Illusion of Grandeur: The Rise of Self-Appointed Designations

In our modern era, “pastor” sometimes feels like a mere stepping stone. The “gods of men” are increasingly adopting more grandiose appellations like “Apostle,” “Bishop,” or “Prophet.” It’s not uncommon to see a young individual rent a hall, acquire some sound equipment, and then boldly claim one of these self-appointed titles. What’s even more telling is how these names often evolve as they progress in what I’ve termed “madnesstry” – a ministry driven more by ego and self-aggrandizement than by genuine divine calling.

For instance, someone might begin by calling himself “Apostle.” After a period, feeling that “Apostle” no longer confers sufficient prestige, he might transition to “Prophet.” Later, perhaps “Evangelist” seems more charismatic, so he adopts that instead. This fluid, self-serving adoption of titles often culminates in a spiritual “APE” – an acronym for Apostle, Prophet, and Evangelist, symbolizing a scramble for ever higher-sounding, self-appointed designations.

Some of these individuals take serious offense if you fail to address them by their chosen title. This behavior stands in stark contrast to Jesus’ clear teachings. His emphasis was on servanthood and humility, not on hierarchical titles that elevate one believer above another. The very act of demanding a title contradicts the spirit of Christ, who, being God, willingly took the form of a servant.

True Authority vs. Superficial Titles: What Truly Matters?

Pastor, if your name is Ezekiel and I call you, “Ezekiel,” what transgression have I committed? Your primary focus, and indeed the focus of any true leader, should be on faithfully executing God’s calling, not on dictating how people address you. There is no scriptural passage that prohibits calling a person by the name given to them at birth. The craze among some religious leaders to be addressed by specific titles fundamentally dilutes the essence of Christianity, shifting the focus from genuine ministry to superficial status symbols.

What is truly more important: the title itself or the work it supposedly represents? If you are a pastor and people call you “Reuben,” does that in any way diminish your pastoral responsibilities or undermine your God-given anointing? The power of the Holy Spirit and the effectiveness of ministry do not depend on human-invented titles, but on a leader’s character, faithfulness, and dedication to Christ’s commission.

This obsession with titles is an unfortunate deviation from authentic Christian practice. If individuals choose to call a pastor “pastor” out of genuine reverence and respect for their office and service, that is perfectly acceptable. However, a pastor who aggressively shoves such a title down the throats of others, demanding its use, displays a level of psychological dysfunction that borders on psychotic. It’s a manifestation of pride, not humility, and it erects unnecessary barriers within the body of Christ.

Embracing Authentic Christianity: Humility, Service, and Connection

My name is Precious. Should I earn a PhD tomorrow, I would still be Precious. If I become a renowned speaker or an acclaimed author, I would remain Precious. My true friends will always be my friends, and when we meet, we will converse, laugh, and exchange high-fives without the need for formal prefixes. Fellow Christians will always be my brothers and sisters in faith. To place myself above them, to demand a title that creates a chasm between us, would be to manifest the antithesis of Christ-like behavior.

As Christians, we are called to be the light of the world. Our focus should be on humbly spreading the gospel, just as Jesus did. The most powerful message we convey is often read not in our sermons or our titles, but in the sincerity and humility of our lives. Let us not push people away with an irrelevant obsession with titles, for it is the work—the genuine service, love, and discipleship—that truly matters. No matter our roles or responsibilities, we are all fundamentally one in Christ, united by His grace and called to serve one another.

“For you are all one in Christ.” Galatians 3:28b. This timeless truth should guide our interactions, reminding us that in His kingdom, there is no place for artificial hierarchies or self-exalting titles.