Against Accountability
I don't really believe in accountability anymore.
American Christians talk a lot about accountability. It is part of the application of almost any sermon on obedience. We are told what to do, and when we ask, “But how do I do it,” the answer tends to be, “Get accountable. Get some people in your life to hold you accountable to obey.” I’ve heard this advice many times. I’ve given it. But I’m increasingly convinced that it reflects a flawed way of thinking that contributes to some of the unhealth in many of our churches and hearts.First, though, some clarifications. I do very much believe in accountability in certain senses of the word. Accountability should always exist in the church as a guardrail to power. We all have the power to harm others by our sin, and we should be accountable for that harm. People who hurt people should not be allowed to continue hurting them.
Leaders in the church should be especially accountable, as they have a special place of power within the household of God. I’m part of a denomination because I deeply believe this. I don’t call myself a pastor because I decided I was one, or because I pretend to have heard some voice from heaven telling me I am one. I’m a pastor because godly men beyond my sphere of power examined and tested me and laid hands on me and set me apart for that calling. And as God used them to give that office, He can use them to take it away if I abuse that power. He can, and they should.
I also think personal accountability is important in the sense of transparency. Sin flourishes in the darkness, so we shouldn’t keep corners of our lives in shadows. I seek to let other people see into my life, even the potentially hard parts. I have brothers who I invite to challenge my conclusions and actions. I have software on all my devices so people can know what I’m doing with them. I’m deeply suspicious of anonymous accounts, locked rooms, and hidden finances. They give needless opportunity for the Tempter to add that attractive addendum to every invitation to sin: “…And no one will ever know.”
Given all of that, how can I say I don’t believe in accountability anymore?
As the above examples reflect, accountability is essentially punitive. It finds its force through punishment and consequence. I am accountable as a pastor inasmuch as I face potential censures for my sins. Saying I am accountable to other people is simply to say, “I can’t avoid the relational and reputational consequences of the wrong things I choose to do.”
My concern is that we look to accountability to do more than simply impose consequences. We think it can prevent sin and foster holiness. We see it not as a negative guardrail to curtail the harms of sin but as a positive tool to create Christlikeness—at times, the positive tool.
Consider the man who commits adultery. I often hear people react to such situations by saying, “If only he had been accountable to other men.” And my heart always asks, “Really?” A person doesn’t commit adultery because they aren’t accountable; they commit adultery because they decide to embrace the insanity of evil. They believe some lies, they chase some false vision of beauty, and they ultimately act out of that, with devastating consequences. They don’t avoid sin because of the potential consequences—they choose to sin in spite of them.
More crucially, even if a person who would otherwise cheat is constrained because there are people around them who will find out—that isn’t Christlikeness. That isn’t from-the-heart righteousness. That is simply caring enough about keeping the outside of the tomb whitewashed that we keep the lust and the lies hidden. The fear of man does not transmute itself into the fear of God simply by labeling it accountability; it detracts from it.
Accountability is important in restraining the effects of sin, but it can do nothing to kill its root. It is a weedwhacker, not an herbicide. And looking to it as the solution to our sinful hearts reveals something deeply flawed in how many Christians think about obedience as a whole.
Consider the earlier question, “How do we do it?” How do we obey? How do we fight sin and grow in obedience? The answer cannot be punitive. It cannot be about imposing consequences, because that is about fear of punishment, and “whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” (1 John 4:18)
Growing in Christlikeness requires inside-out change. It starts with the deep things of the heart. We must experience God’s love in Christ in a way that causes us to love Him more and the things of the world less. We must know the joy of the Lord, the delight of His presence and gratitude for His gifts, in a way that reveals the hollowness of this age’s passing pleasures. We must have a hope in the eternal city, a rest in the indwelling Holy Spirit, and a freedom born of the sovereign love of the Father.
Or, put another way, obedience is ultimately a question of beauty. We need to know what is true and what God requires, but we will not truly seek it until we see it as beautiful. Which is, I think, the root failing of much American Christianity. We have kept a worldly sense of beauty while trying to force God’s truth and morality on top of it. Which is why accountability has become so central to our recipe for obedience—in the absence of loving the beautiful, all that is left is external constraints.
That said, how might we encourage that in others? How can we help people to obey from the heart?
We should say, before answering, that while we can encourage that love of the beautiful, we cannot force it. A person will ultimately see and seek it or they won’t. The Holy Spirit can shape that choice, but we cannot control it. Our focus on accountability can arise from recognizing that people won’t always choose what is right and saying to ourselves, “But how can we make them, even though they don’t see it?” It can reveal how we want to put ourselves in a place only God should occupy.
However, here are three brief suggestions on things that truly can grow from-the-heart obedience:
1. Making space to enjoy God. We live in a world of technology and efficiency. We want the immediate, automatic solution. Heart transformation resists such pragmatism. It requires meditation on God’s Word—not just reading but chewing on it and letting it seep into our hearts. It requires deep prayer—not just presenting a list of needs as quickly as possible but working through things with our Father. It requires space to think, silence, self-reflection, and praise.
2. Community that models and encourages love of God. Sometimes when people talk about accountability, they really mean something closer to this. We can help each other grow in Christlikeness. And yes, sometimes that means calling out sin. But it means much more. It means living life loving God in a way that people can see and imitate. We can fall more in love with God be watching other people love Him. It means practical help in habit formation. And it means encouragement. Celebrating the good. Telling each other stories that reflect the beauty of Christ.
3. Applying the gospel, continually. Ultimately, the way we change is through experiencing the love of God embodied in Jesus Christ. We love as a result of His love, and love is the root of all true obedience. The gospel is the water that feeds the root of righteousness. So we must return to it daily, speak it to others, and drink it up as it slowly grows us up into Jesus Christ.