I’m a “preacher” of sorts. Specifically, I’m a Zen priest and I run a small temple (in addition to my very different day job). This is a question that I’ve given a lot of attention to.
The dynamic between the titular leader of a religious group and the members of that group is complicated: fraught with all kinds of traps on both sides of the relationship. The “rank and file” of the group tend to idealize the leader. They may look to him or her as an example of what they hope the practice of their religion will turn them into, so their hopes for personal transformation get projected onto the leader. The leader, however, absolutely must not buy into that scheme himself, nor encourage it in anyone else.
The urge to do that can be extremely seductive, though, and may have a subtle sub-conscious effect. It’s quite true that developing a cult of personality draws a crowd, and it would be easy to think that if your goal is to reach out to as many people as possible, then why not leverage this tendency for the “good of the cause”. In these days, when it’s hard to get people to commit to anything beyond themselves, then any effective strategy for getting people in the door can be tempting.
That opens a terrible door. The leader now has to keep this illusion of supposed spiritual superiority going, and this will create a serious psychological dissonance in his own mind. If he knows (as he should) that he isn’t on some spiritual plane elevated above those around him, then he’ll be living a dishonest life, and that’s miserable. More typically, he’ll fall into the delusion of believing the charade himself. Either way is a form of hell.
The only sane course is to offer whatever guidance one can with no pretense whatsoever to being in a position of privilege. You have to truly be nothing special at all, and to make sure that everyone else sees it that way, too. That, ironically, is the only position from which one can genuinely help.
@Seek_Kolinahr makes a great point about working some other way to support oneself. Not only does that disentangle one’s ministry from pecuniary concerns, but it serves as a reality check in the ongoing “nothing special” lesson.