Deacons: A Book Review

By / Jul 7

Deacons are the guys who fire the pastor when he does something stupid, right?

 Are deacons just glorified janitors?

Does our church even have deacons? Who cares?

Depending on what church you are a part of you might have very different perspectives on what a “deacon” is. Whatever your view is, if you are tempted to think that the role of deacons is something relatively yawn-worthy, something on par with organizing church yard sales or pointless committee meetings, Matt Smethurst would like to change your mind.

In his new book, Deacons: How They Serve and Strengthen the Church, Smethurst wants to open your eyes to this sobering and encouraging reality: “Deacons wrongly deployed can halve your ministry, but deacons rightly deployed can double it…For better or for worse, deacons are difference makers,” (p. 20).

Smethurst, who is now an elder at his church, first served for years as a deacon himself. Serving in both roles provides him a unique perspective on what a deacon is and isn’t, and how faithful deacons can enhance and focus the work of the elders. Central to Smethurst’s argument in the book is what deacons must be and what deacons must do: deacons must be Christ-like servants, and deacons must do Christ-like service.

What a Deacon Must Be

Our English word “deacon” is simply a transliterated form of the Greek word diakonos, “servant.” A deacon, quite literally, is a servant. Smethurst demonstrates that this means that a deacon is to be what all Christians are to be: servants. A quick search of the use of diakonos in the gospels shows us that the call to be a “servant” is not limited to an elite few, but universal for all Christ-followers (cf. Matt 23:11; Mark 9:35).

“If you’ve put your trust in Christ,” Smethurst writes, “you are already a deacon in a broad sense,” (p. 16). Of course, the Bible does begin to use the noun “deacon” in a more technical sense as one of the two ordained offices in the church, as the epistles of Paul show us (cf. Phil 1:1; 1 Tim 3:8-12). But even as we examine the qualifications of a deacon in 1 Timothy, we should be struck with just how ordinary these requirements are. Deacons are not called to leap over tall buildings in a single bound or stop proverbial trains with their bare hands. The requirements for the diaconate are none other than the same requirements all Christians are called to submit to: speak the truth, abstain from drunkenness, do not be greedy for dishonest gain, be faithful in marriage, etc.

Smethurst explains: “Deacons must embody the kind of character expected of all Christians. But they should be exemplary in the ordinary. Deacons are the people in your church of whom you should be able to say, ‘Brother, do you desire to foster unity? Sister, do you wish to grow as a servant? Watch them,” (p. 71).

This is why character always matters more than competency when it comes to selecting a deacon. Deacons, like elders, are to be living-breathing examples of godliness for the church to model themselves after.

The temptation for many churches is to view the diaconate as the junior varsity team to the elders when it comes to spiritual maturity. Sure, he doesn’t really know his Bible and has a bad temper, but he is really handy and is willing to mow the church lawn, so we should make Ted a deacon. Finding competent deacons who can organize ministries is crucial—but competency never outweighs character (see pgs. 32-36). And when we rightly understand what deacons are called to do, the importance of what they must be becomes even clearer.

What a Deacon Must Do

Acts 6:1-7 is an important starting place for understanding what deacons must do. The early church is threatened with serious divisions that are occurring across ethnic lines: Hellenistic Jews are ignored in the daily distribution of bread. Jesus taught that the church would be formed from peoples from every nation (Matt 28:18-20) and the Jerusalem church is the first petri-dish in which this multi-cultural community is growing. These divisions contradict Jesus’ vision of what the church is to be. So, what do the apostles do?

Although Acts 6:1-7 never uses the noun diakonos the way Paul uses it in Timothy, we do get the verbal form of it (diakoneō) when the apostles explain, “It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve (diakoneō) tables,” (Acts 6:2). So the apostles call on the entire congregation to select seven men, “of good repute, full of Spirit and wisdom,” (Acts 6:3, note the importance of character!) who can serve the church. The apostles conclude, “But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word,” (Acts 6:4). So the church chooses seven men to serve the church (Acts 6:5-6).

And what happens? We are told, “And the word of God continued to increase, and the number of the disciples multiplied greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith,” (Acts 6:7). These seven men didn’t just slow down the infestation of division in the church—their service led the church to explode in health and evangelism!

From this story we glean many insights into what a deacon’s ministry should do:

Prioritize the ministry of Word and Prayer

The apostles are reluctant to forego their ministry of the Word and prayer to wait on tables, but not because they find the service below them or the problem to be unimportant. There’s actually a play on words with diakonos in Acts 6:2, 4, which becomes apparent if we just use our English word “deacon”:

“It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to deacon tables… But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the deacon-ing of the word.”

The word used in verse 4 for “ministry” comes from the same word group as diakonos: diakonia. The apostles are not unwilling to be servants—they just know that the unique service they have been called to cannot be neglected.

This distinction in service correlates to the distinction between elders and deacons in 1 Timothy, where the only substantive difference between the two is the requirement for elders to be “able to teach” (1 Tim 3:2). Pastors must devote themselves to the ministry of the Word. It can be tempting for pastors to get entangled in many problems in the life of the church either from a lack of help or a lack of trust in others and begin to neglect the prayer and ministry of the word—but this comes with a cost. Smethurst notes:

“By prioritizing Scripture and prayer, the apostles are choosing to stay focused on the whole church’s spiritual welfare, even as they affirm the Hellenists’ physical needs…a church whose ministers are chained to the tyranny of the urgent—which so often shows up in “tangible problems”—is a church removing its heart to strengthen its arm. It’s a kind of slow-motion suicide,” (p. 47).

Deacons thus are to work and care for the needs within the church so that the elders may be free to prioritize prayer and the ministry of the Word.

Promote and Prioritize Unity in the Church

Unity was threatened in Acts 6 and the seven stepped up to protect the unity. “Deacons should be those who muffle shockwaves,” writes Smethurst, “not make them reverberate further,” (p. 54). Deacons are those who labor to prioritize and implement the priorities of the elders and to free the elders to devote themselves to what will bring the most unity: prayer and Word. Deacons are not those who use their position of authority to battle others or cudgel the elders. In fact, Smethurst points out that while there are several passages where elders are called to exercise oversight and members are called to submit to them (Acts 20:28; 1 Tim 3:1-2; 5:17; 1 Pet 5:2; Heb 13:17), there is no such parallel with deacons. “Members…are called to emulate deacons; they are never told to obey them,” (p. 84).

Smethurst cites Mark Dever’s helpful analogy,

“If the elders say, ‘Let’s drive to Pittsburgh,’ it’s not up to the deacons to come back and say, ‘No, let’s drive to Philadelphia instead.’ They can legitimately come back and say, ‘Our engine won’t get us to Pittsburgh. Perhaps we should reconsider.’ That’s very helpful. But in general their job is to support the destination set by the elders,” (p. 83).

Smethurst concludes, “A contentious Christian…will make a poor deacon. So what should mark a deacon? Palpable humility. A spirit of gentleness. A willingness to be flexible. The ability to stand on conviction without being combative,” (pgs. 76-77). This is so critical when many churches (particularly in the Baptist tradition) view the deacon board as a kind of adversary to the pastor, there to check him if he moves the church in a direction they don’t like. It is the role of the elders to lead the ministry; it is the responsibility of the deacons to help facilitate the ministry, not provide an alternative direction.

Deacons can promote and protect the unity of the church by responding to opportunities for division in the church, supporting the ministry of the elders, and exhibiting humility in their own character.

Care for the Physical Needs of the Church

Since deacons are to work on “anything in a church’s life that threatens to distract and derail elders from their primary responsibilities,” (p. 75), this often means that deacons should be working to identify and meet tangible needs within the church. In Acts 6, that was an equitable distribution of bread. In churches today that may look like caring for the physical needs of widows, care for the church facilities, oversight of the church’s technology, budgets, hospitality, outreach opportunities, benevolence ministries, and so on and so forth.

It is interesting to note that we are never told exactly how the seven in Acts fixed the dilemma. Nor are we told that the apostles dictated what needed to be done. After the congregation had agreed that they were qualified and competent (why they must be “full of wisdom”), the apostles simply trusted them to figure out how to solve the problem. When addressing physical needs within the church, deacons are to be creative problem solvers. Their desire to guard the unity of the church compels them to this, “An ideal deacon candidate should have a track record of: sees a problem → wants to safeguard unity → thinks creatively → solves the problem,” (pgs. 55-56).

Conclusion

At one point, the church I now pastor had a board of deacons who oversaw the pastor and had authority over him. Later on, the church changed its model of governance and, while not eliminating the office entirely, had all deacons vacate the office and simply left it empty. Apparently, no one thought the job was important enough to be filled. Smethurst’s book shines like a lighthouse blazing through the fog of that kind of indifference. The work of deacons is not an optional quirk; it is a difference-maker in the life of a church.

There is so much more in this book that should be commended. The appendix on the issue of whether or not women can serve as deacons is worth the price of the book alone! Smethurst has packed the book with good exegesis, enlightening history, careful theology, and oodles and oodles of practical wisdom and refreshing encouragement.

He closes his book with these words of encouragement to all laboring in the diaconal ministry: “I want to reiterate that diaconal work is not glorious because it is always seen (it often isn’t). Nor is it glorious because it always gratifies (it often doesn’t). Ultimately, the work is glorious because of what it mirrors,” (p. 118). That mirrored reality is none other than the Deacon of all Deacons, the Servant of the Lord: Jesus Christ.

Editor’s Note: You can purchase Deacons: How They Serve And Strengthen The Church here or wherever books are sold. 



At the Feet of the Fake: What Fiction Can Teach Us About Theological Interpretation

By / Jul 6

From the same pen which birthed the ever-important fictional town of Gilead, Iowa, came a collection of delightful essays entitled, “When I Was a Child I Read Books.” In one of these essays, novelist Marilynne Robinson writes regarding the concept of “imaginative love” in which she describes the capacity for humans to feel genuine affection for those who are not really there. Using fictional characters, or real authors of the past as test-subjects, she stated, “I love the writers of my thousand books. It pleases me to think how astonished old Homer, whoever he was, would be to find his epics on the shelf of such an unimaginable being as myself, in the middle of an unrumored continent.” She concludes, “All together they are my community.”

The Teacher Who Is Not There

Those who have spent much time in the presence of well-crafted fictional characters need not be swayed by Robinson’s logic. For, the evidence of such a possibility resides in their deep inward adoration for their favorite characters. Those of us who find fiction as a well of joy are more than equipped to recite the real lessons we have learned at the feet of the fake. One of Dickens’s orphaned boys—Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, or Pip—may have taught us to adore the mundane; one of Rowling’s students, Longbottom perhaps, may have taught us the worthiness of bravery. These characters’ lives, in their entirety, find their full existence inside a few pages, but their instruction lives large within us.

Fiction has the power to instruct all those who would dare dive into the world of the imaginative. She’s equipped to act as the schoolmaster on an endless assortment of topics; she knows lessons of love and heartbreak, hope and despair, fortune and loss, friendship and traitors, work and leisure, and the list could almost ever-flow. Fiction’s wisdom is as vast as her contributors and is increasing with each new page published. When one surveys the list of potential lessons taught from fictional literature, they may not suspect theological realities to be present, yet the theologian has much to learn from novels.

A Real Lesson From the Fake

The roads of fiction and theology cross at a number of intersections. However, the jurisdiction of this essay will be confined to a brief examination about the lesson fiction literature might teach us regarding the task of theological interpretation of Scripture. Even with this delineation, the points of contact between novels and theological interpretation proliferate. For who would doubt that well-crafted fiction has a lesson for theologians and theological interpretation when it comes to articulating plot development, or pursuing a robust understanding of character, or developing empathy with those caught in the drama, or visualizing interlocutors and antagonists. Yes, in this very incomplete list of reasons, the theologian has ample justification to crack open their next Jane Austen novel.

However, there is a benefit which exists at a more basic level about which the novelists or fiction reader can instruct the theologian. Namely, the novelist can instruct the theological reader about the inherit relationship between the ontology and functionality of a piece of literature.

We would all think a reader crazy who picked up Alexander Dumas’s classic, The Count of Monte Cristo, and proceeded to read the gathered chapters as an anthology of loosely, but not explicitly, related content. This reading method would be unthinkable and would undermine any hermeneutical effort or impact. No one cracks a novel and reads chapter two assuming that it has nothing or little to do with chapter nine. Nor do readers set out to read a great work of fiction with the assumption that it matters not where they begin working through the drama.

These acts strike us as silly since anyone who picks up a novel has a deep underlining conviction about what a novel is and even when they are not seeking to apply their convictions regarding the literary piece’s ontology, they do so, nevertheless. When a reader reaches for a novel, they do so with the intuition and assumption that what they hold is a unified story and this internal belief shapes how they proceed to work through the words therein. Their understanding of the book’s ontology will not allow them to interpret chapter two as having nothing to do with chapter fourteen. Yes, readers of Edmond Dantes’s tale know that the wisdom of Abbé Faria—discovered towards the beginning of the novel—will pay dividends in the plot against Gérard de Villefort throughout the rest of the masterpiece. Moreover, they need not be schooled in an academic form of literary method to have this correct intuition. The fiction reader’s intuitive hermeneutical method is rooted simply in what they know a novel to be—a story, unified by author and theme, which is taking them to somewhere, to something, or to someone.

This is a real lesson which theological readers can learn at the feet of the fake. A piece of literature’s ontology will always impact how we are to handle the content of that piece. Or, as the late theologian John Webster stated, “bibliology is prior to hermeneutics.” Practitioners of theological interpretation put the proverbial cart before the horse when they set out to outline methods of handling and applying the Biblical data before coming to terms with what the Bible is in the first place. We must know what the Bible is before we can properly ask what we ought to do with it.

When readers rearrange their theological and hermeneutical method to put ontology before function, they learn, says Scott Swain, that “the Bible is an extraordinary book” and therefore “the reading of the Bible is an extraordinary enterprise.” The Bible’s extraordinariness comes from the reality that with it and in it, the triune God of the universe—who tells the stars where to hang and the oceans where to stop—has revealed himself in order that wicked creatures might find themselves reconciled in and to himself.

While the contents of this divine self-disclosure were constructed by diverse hands—authors spanning multiple centuries, continents, and cultures—it nevertheless has a unified divine author who threads a yarn of consistency through all its content. This divine author, and his telos for the Scriptures, assures readers that they can have the same intuition intact when they approach the pages of Scripture as they do when they discover the drama of a great novel. Theological interpretation, which approaches the biblical data with theology and presuppositions in hand, is done best when the ontology of the Bible dictates the function of the interpreter. The divine authorship actually bears hermeneutical responsibility that would bar interpreters from treating the Scriptures as an anthology of loosely related material.

So, as we sit at the fictitious school of the imaginative, may we learn a real lesson. A lesson which declares that literary ontology must precede literary function and that the proper interpretation of speech will always have the speaker in mind. For our purposes, that speaker happens to be the a se, simple, immutable, impassible God of the cosmos. May each new great novel we read remind us that the literary intuition of the interpretative community may serve her well or for harm, but it will indeed show up in how she treats the text.

Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared at the blog for Credo Magazine and is used with permission.



An Agent of Usefulness: William Wilberforce

By / Jul 6

The story of William Wilberforce is fairly well-known, especially since the renaissance of popular interest in him birthed by the movie “Amazing Grace.” But it is his spirituality, his personal walk with Christ, that is less known or appreciated. We learn much of this primarily from his own Spiritual Journals, which I will publish for the first time later this year, with Christian Focus Publishers.

William Wilberforce was born in Hull, England in 1759, the son of a wealthy merchant, enjoying all the privileges that wealth and position afforded him. He became a member of Parliament but until his evangelical conversion in 1785/6, he had no real driving passion except pleasure. Once converted Wilberforce would never be the same. He was counseled and mentored by the likes of John Newton and John Wesley, and soon became the leader of the parliamentary campaign for the abolition of slavery. He saw the slave trade abolished at age 47, and slavery itself at age 73, dying only three days after it was achieved.

In his initial speech on slavery and abolition that he gave to Parliament in 1789 he said, “When I consider the magnitude of the subject and when I think at the same time on the weakness of the advocate who has undertaken this great cause, when these reflections press upon my mind, it is impossible for me not to feel both terrified and concerned at my own inadequacy to such a task. As soon as ever I had arrived this far in my investigation…I confess…so enormous, so dreadful did its wickedness appear that my own mind was completely made up for the abolition…let the consequences be what they would, I from this time determined that I would never rest till I had effected its abolition.”

I am convinced that his words, passion, drive, and character are needed now more than ever, especially when one thinks, for example, of such issues as abortion and human trafficking. At the same time, I believe Wilberforce has been a massively neglected Christian voice, that, as JI Packer rightly stated, we would be foolish to neglect: “William Wilberforce was a great man who impacted the Western world as few others have done. Blessed with brains, charm, influence and initiative, much wealth…he put evangelism on Britain’s map as a power for social change. To forget such men is foolish.”

As a believer, Wilberforce reflected much on his walk with Christ, especially his prayer life, and in all his self-assessment and introspection, he was his own worst critic. His very detailed journals were his way of keeping a detailed check on his life, character, and spirituality. He loved to read Scripture, learning much of it by heart and in Greek. His constant fear and battle was that people might see him as he saw himself, a man constantly failing in his own spiritual life. He loved to read, so when he was unable to do so because of his eye disease, or when he was getting ready in the morning, he hired ‘readers’ to read Scripture and Christian books to him—these became the equivalent of 18th century podcasts for him.

Wilberforce recorded in his Diary that God had set before him “two great objects”: the abolition of the slave trade and the reformation of manners—an incredible Christian impact on the culture of his day. Pursuing those became his focus for the rest of his life: he sacrificially gave all he had—time, wealth and health—and never took the easy road. Wilberforce became a very active, involved, determined, and sold-out Evangelical at the very time he was needed, and he never gave up! When the opposition he faced was fiercest, he simply relied all the more on Christ.

Wilberforce had powerful enemies and he experienced actual physical assaults, in addition to receiving several death threats, necessitating him traveling with an armed bodyguard. He had numerous lies told about him, including that he had secretly married a black slave and had children by her. He also battled the sickness and frailty of his own body, which included Ulcerative Colitis, a genetic and debilitating eye disease, an opium addiction because of the pain, and a painful curvature of the spine.

Wilberforce was generous to a fault, illustrated by the fact that because he was unable to fire servants when they became old or infirm, his house soon resembled an unofficial retirement home. He also funded so many causes, much of it done without fanfare or public knowledge. In the end Wilberforce died in a house that was not his own, having been forced to sell what he had owned to pay debts that were not his but those of his son, William Jr.

Wilberforce assembled around him or, maybe more accurately, attracted a group around him that would become his encouragers, mentors, supporters, and enablers in all the causes he championed. This ‘Clapham Circle’ believed exactly what Wilberforce wrote in his only book Real Christianity, that, “It is the true duty of every man to promote the happiness of his fellow creatures to the utmost of his power.” Little wonder then that Wilberforce was always looking for ways to share Christ with friends and influencers.

He was also an incredible family man who loved his children and loved kids generally, being described by several who knew him as childlike but never childish! He chose a wife with a similar-outlook as he—a committed Evangelical—that they might encourage each other and bring up their children in a house of faith. He was 37; Barbara was 26. He proposed after only eight days and they were married within a few weeks, and so began in his own words, “thirty-five years of undiluted happiness.” Within a decade they had four sons and two daughters and he was devoted to all seven of them! Guests were amazed as the children treated him as one of them, as he joined in their various games: marbles, Blindman’s Buff and running races, and all this in a day when fathers rarely even saw their children.

His family and the cause of abolition took much of his time, but he was also very active pursuing the second of his “great objects,” impacting society with the gospel. He was an active creator, member, leader, or supporter of at least 69 very active societies. He campaigned for the poor, for chimney sweeps, the uneducated, and for children in mines and factories. He helped found the Church Missionary Society, the British and Foreign Bible Society, and the London Missionary Society, which would send Eric Liddle to China and Livingstone to Africa. He sacrificially supported dozens of evangelical and humanitarian institutions including fever hospitals, asylums, infirmaries, and prisons. He founded schools for the deaf and the blind, lending libraries, and schools for the poor. He helped to found the School for the Blind in York, the National Gallery in London, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution—all four of which are still flourishing. He financially supported the artist William Blake; Patrick Bronte through school; Mrs. Charles Wesley in her widowhood; and many missionary and ministry candidates who were too poor to finance themselves.

Within hours of his death, more than 100 high-profile figures in Britain, wrote to request the highest honour Britain can afford someone, that they be buried in Westminster Abbey, and there he lies today.

As we reflect on his life and impact, we should see Wilberforce as being an example for believers today that we should:

  • Give our all to Christ: time, talents, and treasure.
  • Use every opportunity to share the gospel.
  • Discern God’s direction for our lives, and be obedient to whatever we are called to do, including the very important work of politics.
  • Seek out mentors, encouragers, prayer-warriors, and accountability partners.
  • Expect opposition and suffering.
  • Repent as soon as we fail, then continue to follow God.
  • Nurture a Christian home and family.
  • Be generous and a blessing to all.
  • Be winsome.
  • Never give up, and having done all, to stand.
  • Be faithful in meeting with other believers for worship.
  • Read and memorize Scripture, and read challenging and encouraging Christian books.

Wilberforce referred to himself an “Agent of Usefulness.” What an understatement that turned out to be!

Editor’s Note: This article appeared in the Spring ’21 edition of Midwestern Magazine. The full issue, entitled They Still Speak: Wisdom Today from the Voices of Yesterday, is available free online at mbts.edu/magazine.



Jani Ortlund on Advice to Wives Whose Husbands are Starting Out in Ministry

By / Jul 6

FTC.co asked Jani Ortlund, Executive Vice-President at Renewal Ministries, “What is a piece of advice you would give to women whose husbands are just beginning in ministry?”



Won Kwak On Cultivating A Healthy Legacy

By / Jul 2

We asked Won Kwak, “What can a young pastor do to start cultivating a healthy legacy?”



Don’t Assume Anything In The Pulpit

By / Jul 2

“You remember the three Hebrews boys in the fiery furnace…”

“You remember when Jesus stilled the storm on the Sea of Galilee…”

“You remember what Paul said about justification by faith alone…” 

My sermons were filled with statements like these, as a young pastor. I took for granted that the congregation knew and understood these passing references. So I skipped the explanation and rushed to the point I wanted to make.

That all changed with a conversation with a member. I considered her one of the most mature young adults. But I had to hide my surprise when she told me…

“You know, Pastor. When you say, ‘You remember…’ as you are preaching, I want to stand up and say, ‘No, I don’t.’ I don’t know many of the Bible stories you mention. And I am learning a lot from your preaching.”

She meant it as a compliment. It hit me like a ton of bricks. As a result of that conversation, I determined not to assume anything in the pulpit.

Beware of three common assumptions we tend to make as we preach and teach the word of God…

  1. Do not assume people know the passage. Preachers tend to avoid famous passages, assuming people already know them. This is not wise. We live in a day of rampant biblical illiteracy. Many people do not know the major characters, classic stories, or fundamental doctrines of the Bible. Don’t bemoan the demise fall of Sunday School and Bible study. View this as an opportunity to introduce your people to the Bible and teach them the scriptures.
  2. Do not assume people understand the passage. People may know the passage you reference. But that does not mean they understand the meaning of it. It is one thing to know Psalm 23. It is another thing to know the Good Shepherd. Familiarity with the wording of a text does not guarantee spiritual illumination. Dig deep in your sermon preparation to help them see beyond a superficial understanding of the text.
  3. Do not assume people believe the passage. A person can know the text. That person can also understand the intended meaning of the text. But do not assume knowledge and understanding translates into faith. Many congregants have been squeezed into the world’s way of thinking (Romans 12:2). Their theological, ethical, and moral views have been shaped by popular culture more than biblical truth. Faithful preaching must be apologetic. We must be ready to give the reason for our hope in Christ to our on congregations (1 Peter 3:15).

Editor’s Note: This originally published at HBCharlesJr.com



The Draw of Worldly Christianity

By / Jul 1

“I don’t get the hype,” my friend said about the new restaurant opening in our city.

“Seriously?” I asked. I’d been unofficially counting down the days until opening, waiting for the renowned barbeque joint to open its Tallahassee outpost. We were getting hometown access to the Tom Brady of ribs and my buddy didn’t “get the hype.” As former UCLA basketball coach John Wooden would say, “Goodness gracious sakes alive.”

On the drive back from our inaugural lunch, I asked my friend what he thought about the food itself and he casually said, “It was fine. I just don’t really get the appeal.”

In this instance, my friend was beginning with a severe skepticism that even delicious barbeque couldn’t overcome. On the other hand, I was beginning with high expectations, which were bound to either lead to extreme disappointment or a biased impression of what was put onto my plate. In either case, we were both in for a confrontation between expectation and reality. But the sort of excited optimism I had comes close to what we’re seeing amongst antsy, searching people and a prosperity gospel that promises a God whose chief goal is to facilitate your personal happiness. It’s not hard to find the appeal.

We all feel pressure to pursue peace with God, whether that means reasoning away His existence or seeking to appease whatever version of Him we think exists. That’s part of the issue with the new prosperity gospel. Whereas the Bible teaches that peace with God comes via death (to Christ and also to self), this newer message implies that peace with God is settled, and we can now return to the preeminent goal of self-fulfillment. The ultimate appeal is that you can pursue the earthly carrots dangling in front of you in the name of Christianity.

As author Jen Pollock Michel rightly noted, our society believes that “happiness is our only duty today, self-betrayal our only sin.” This version of Christianity functionally gives a hearty “amen.” In a therapeutic society, the achievement of self-fulfillment with God’s apparent stamp of approval is the perfect recipe for Christians to desire the things of this world while still feeling as if they are close to Jesus and He is very pleased. It appeases our need to know God isn’t mad at us while giving license to continue on making much of ourselves.

But the Scriptures give a condition to following Jesus that is the complete opposite of self-pursuit: self-denial. Jesus said, “Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27). My mentor puts it this way: “Salvation is free, but following Jesus isn’t cheap.” Being part of God’s kingdom means I am not the one in charge, and sometimes the boss and I are going to have different ideas. Imagine following Jesus without having to renounce yourself? This version of Jesus would always want for me exactly what I want for myself – in the same manner I want it for myself but with supernatural powers to make it happen. Unfortunately, that’s just not who the Bible portrays Jesus to be. As Mark Sayers said, the “heresy hidden under the surface is our belief that God would not ask Western people to deny themselves.”

I’m not implying that new prosperity gospel churches are flooded with raging egomaniacs. In fact, many of the people in these churches are passionate about social justice issues, generous with their time and resources, and truly bought-in to their local churches. My use of the term “me-centered” refers to the focus of the theological teaching. Think of the solar system. Humans once believed the earth was at the center of the universe with the sun and stars orbiting around it. We now understand that is not true in the slightest. (At least I hope everyone reading this understands that.) The primary error of the new prosperity theology is that it places the individual in the center of every situation and places God in orbit as a sort of powerful yet controllable satellite.

One popular pastor has written, “If the size of your vision for your life isn’t intimidating to you, there’s a good chance it’s insulting to God.” This pastor claims God “intends to uproot you from the tyranny of the familiar, shatter the monotonous life you’ve had, and take you on an adventure.” I can hear the cheers of thousands at the MLM national conference, giving each other a high-five and wanting more. This same pastor wrote, “The greater life hasn’t ended for you. It’s only out of sight under the waters of the ordinary. And God can resurface it, supernaturally, as many times as it takes. As many times as you’re willing.” For a society living in chronic discontent, it’s easy to see why this attracts people like the “Hot Now” sign at Krispy Kreme. How can you not stop in for the hot donut?

Perhaps one of the most alarming characteristics of this movement is the genuine and seemingly powerful emotional buy-in of the people involved. “God showing up” to a gathering means people were really into the music and responded with excitement to the pastor’s message about overcoming whatever obstacle is in the way of one’s dream. In new prosperity gatherings, conviction is usually not tied to realizing one’s sin, but rather to realizing you’re not being as proactive in pursuing self-care, positive thinking, or ambition as those on stage.

Congregants are made to believe they have to “listen to [them]selves, to behave authentically, in tune with what [their] intuition dictates,” which is apparently God Himself calling them to something greater. Be careful what drives your emotion and in which direction! In pop-Christianity, people claim they are elevating God; they just functionally believe that is done by emoting passionately during the service to “give everything to Him.” Me-centered Christianity is very expressive, but we must take great care as to the content of the worship, because “quite possibly, the worst judgment on this side of heaven is to be under the delusion that you are worshipping God, when in reality you are only worshipping a god you created.”

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Editor’s note: This article is an excerpt from Getting Over Yourself: Trading Believe-in-Yourself Religion for Christ-Centered Christianity by Dean Inserra and is used with permission. Learn more about this and other Moody Publishers/For the Church imprint titles here.

 



Pastoral Advice Worth Repeating: Part 5 – Ground Yourself in God’s Word

By / Jul 1

Preaching and teaching the Bible is more than an academic exercise. It must be more. Teaching the Bible can be done academically, but “academic” is not a sufficient description for the Christian teacher as a whole, and especially not for the Christian pastor as a whole. William Still summarizes the pastoral office with beautiful concision:

The pastor by definition is a shepherd, the under-shepherd of the flock of God. His primary task is to feed the flock by leading them to green pastures. He also has to care for them when they are sick or hurt, and seek them when they go astray…[1]

The first faculty member of “Old Princeton,” Archibald Alexander, once penned a chapter on “The Pastoral Office” from a previous sermon. His opening was a simple quote from John 21:16: “Feed my sheep.”[2]

Much can and should be said of the singular focus of this task of shepherding, of feeding the sheep. It is far too easy to be distracted in pastoral ministry. Pastors are people, and it happens. Thus, it is good to remind oneself of the simplicity of this central task from Jesus: “feed my sheep.” And food with which one feeds Christ’s sheep is the Word of God which reveals him.

The best feeders of sheep understand and convey the nature of this food.

This requires a pre-requisite to feeding others on the Word. Pastor Still is helpful here again, saying that “this written Word, summed up in the incarnate Word, not only expresses what God is like, but is and becomes by the operation of the Spirit of God, the nourishment by which we become like Him also. To be a pastor of the sheep, a feeder of the Word to others, you must be fed yourself.”

Food for the Under-Shepherds

Listen to the many faithful pastors who have gone before you. If you are one who would teach the Bible, one who would pastor, the message of the Bible should have a growing richness to you which deepens your affection for Jesus Christ. To know Christ, to trust in what he accomplished, and to see the great wonder of it all is to grasp his covenantal faithfulness and display his love.

Let’s look at an example sentence from Scripture that carries some serious covenantal weight, that has richness which expands in each layer of comprehension. In his letter to the Colossians, after exclaiming Jesus’ divine identity, Paul writes this in Colossians 1:19–20:

“For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.”

It is worth meditating on that sentence and its preceding context. It is worth meditating on all that these words mean. For the Colossians, it means that no false teaching compares with the “fullness” to be found in Christ. But for Paul, who had been a “Jew’s Jew”—well, I cannot help but wish to know what Paul felt the first time he grasped the covenantal weight of this truth. Paul had been a Pharisee. It is an understatement to say that Paul knew the history of the people of Israel. Paul says he was “extremely zealous” for the traditions of his fathers (Galatians 1:14). Paul was also a witness and apostle of Jesus Christ himself (Acts 9:3–7; Gal. 1:11–18). He had encountered the incarnate God. The presence of Yahweh is terrifying to sinners, fatal to sinners. This much Paul knew before the road to Damascus. And yet Paul, the “chief of sinners” (1 Tim. 1:15), had encountered the incarnate God and lived.

I do wonder how Christ’s invasion of his soul and mind gripped his emotions. Paul’s initial blinding view of Christ proceeded from immediate fear to ultimate and deepening affection. Evident in his letters and ministry, Paul came to realize that the Almighty God of his fathers was pleased—He chose—to dwell among men, to reconcile them to himself in the cross and resurrection of Jesus. The “completeness of God’s self-revelation,” writes James Dunn, “was focused in Christ, that the wholeness of God’s interaction with the universe is summed up in Christ.” Paul understood that true Christian reflection on the work of Christ “could not rest content short of assessing him in the highest possible terms, of God’s self-expression in and through him.”[3]

This is God dwelling among men. God dwelling among men! Or as Murray Harris writes, “It was by God the Father’s choice and at his good pleasure that all divine attributes and powers resided in the person of Jesus.”[4] This is what God had always promised!

There is historic, covenantal weight here that would floor a Jew who knows his history. But this is not only true for Paul or other 1st century Jewish Christians who knew the God of the Old Testament and the sin of His people. This covenantal weight is real for each of us today, as inheritors of the covenantal blessing which comes through Jesus, the true Israel.

How can one who believes this, whose hope depends on this, teach this truth stale and unfeeling?

Are you stirred by the power of God’s shocking grace in dwelling among sinful man? Do you see Christ’s ministry of reconciliation for what it is? Teaching this verse and its surrounding passage is more than an academic exercise. Teaching this is to call our people to yearn for the fullness of God, to yearn for the completion of our dwelling with God. Do those who know you see that yearning in you? Teaching this is to exemplify joy-filled gratitude in our lives for what Christ has done in making peace between the sinner and the Creator. Does gratitude to God season your speech, behavior, and thought?

Pastors and the Astounding Gift of God’s Word

For those who would teach the Bible in the local church: we must see the astonishing nature of “Immanuel.” It is astonishing that the revelation of God has been given to man at all, let alone that the revelation is one of reconciliation. From the Word we must gather that utter awe and worship and fear are appropriate with regard to the presence and revelation of God. Awe and worship and fear do not—must not—diminish simply because you teach about this God all the time. Convey awe and worship and fear in your teaching. Sinners have no place in His presence and have no inherent right to His revelation. Perhaps the Lord transformed your heart and made you His decades ago, but is it not still among the greatest of wonders that you can hold God’s Word in your hands? The shocking truth of His grace and mercy and revelation only grows as you come to know your sin more and more. A wretch like you! A wretch like me! But God (Eph. 2:4), not satisfied to leave His chosen people under wrath, loved us. From the Word we must also gather that this God has, in His overwhelming love, given His presence to us. He was pleased to dwell in His fullness in Jesus Christ, to come and die in our place and take death to its grave, bursting forth from the tomb resurrected and exalted. The Spirit of this God dwells in those who believe.

Yes, the gospel—the message of the Bible. Yes, you know the gospel. Are you not still amazed by the gospel? Awake, O sleeping teacher! How can you be one who would teach the church of Jesus and not be filled with affection for Christ and his glorious gospel? To the adopted of God, the beauty of redemption and reconciliation never runs dry. It only deepens and widens, rushing over us and through us to others.

Conclusion

Those who know the Word best display the heart of Christ most faithfully. I fear you may misunderstand my meaning: one can memorize an astonishing amount of Bible references and fail to truly know the Word, that is to know the heart of God revealed in His Word. Like Pharisees, we can lose the seed of Christ’s heart, trampled on the path of our intellectual acumen. But a posture of humility and gratitude birthed and sustained by his grace keeps us abiding in his love.

What do you feel when you open the Bible, teacher? What do you feel when you hold it in your hands, when you read what is written? Relax…I’m not being weird or amorphously mystical. But I am serious. Do you feel anything? How about gratitude? How about awe? How about worship? How about unbridled joy? How about hope in spite of terrible circumstances? A thirst for more of God? Is your affection for Christ growing?

The presence and revelation of God is astounding. If we teach the Bible as an academic exercise, with no sense of being astounded ourselves, with no worship in our own hearts, that’s a confusing message to someone who is young in the faith and learning to cherish the gospel. Feed them! Light the way of the sheep with the Word, as the Word lights your own. Quoting from William Still one last time, “The pastor is called to feed the sheep, even if the sheep do not want to be fed.”[5] They may not feel sustained by it or delight in it in each moment. But keep feeding. The Word surprises each of us in God’s time, it sustains and delights when He chooses. So keep feeding. Ground yourself, your family, your ministry in the Word of God.

No privilege or adventure exceeds that of walking another human being into the arms of Jesus Christ. No arduous task is as worthwhile as the long, narrow path of discipling others with the Word of God lighting the way. The Word of God is food for the sheep. It is food for you who feed them. And the Word never ceases to surprise and sustain and delight those who give themselves to the feast.

Footnotes:

[1] William Still, The Work of the Pastor, revised ed. (Fearn, UK: Christian Focus Publications, 2010), 17.

[2] Archibald Alexander, “The Pastoral Office,” in The Pastor: His Call, Character, and Work (Edinburgh, UK: The Banner of Truth Trust, 2020), 89.

[3] James D. G. Dunn, The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary series (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publishing, 1996), 101.

[4] Murray J. Harris, Colossians and Philemon, Exegetical Guide to the Greek New Testament series (Nashville, TN: B&H Publishing Group, 2010), 45–46.

[5] William Still, The Work of the Pastor, 23.



5 Reasons I Love Being a Pastor

By / Jul 1

Being a pastor is difficult.

I remember my mentor in ministry telling me when I was in my early twenties that if I could do anything else, I should do that. He warned me there would be days that I wished I was working in any other sort of job. He was right. But I couldn’t do anything else–or rather—I couldn’t without feeling I was running from God, and he agreed that was a sign that God was calling me to be a pastor.

I can tend towards dwelling on the difficult and the negative some days because they are what so often are calling for our attention: solving problems, considering the next step in loosening or tightening COVID restrictions, wondering how this next phone call or meeting will go, remembering that I forgot to check in with somebody undergoing a trial. The list goes on.

But there are so many blessings in being a pastor, so many reasons I count it one of the greatest privileges of my life, so many reasons to thank God for being a pastor, and so many reasons I love being a pastor.

In keeping with Paul’s admonition to think about “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things,” (Philippians 4:8), I want to list five of the many reasons I love being a pastor.

#1 – I get to teach and study God’s Word as part of my job.

For all of the stresses that being a pastor entails, and the pressure of the Sunday morning sermon deadline, and all of the spiritual battles that come my way, every week I get to—and am expected to—spend hours studying God’s Word and preparing to teach it. This is an inestimable privilege.

I once heard an older pastor say that he couldn’t believe that he gets paid to study God’s Word. That is a perspective that I need to keep in mind and thank God for weekly. It is a joy to spend time in God’s Word and be filled up with it and challenged by it so that I can have the joy of equipping, encouraging, and stretching God’s people with it. May I never take this for granted.

#2 – I get to be there for people’s highs and lows in life.

Some of my favorite moments in pastoring are being right there for the highs and lows of people’s lives and being used by God in those situations to “rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). It is a joy to pray with new parents while holding a newborn baby, and it is a joy to see the radiance in the eyes of a couple getting married while standing right behind them. It is also a different, somber kind of joy to be able to help a couple apply God’s Word to their marriage struggles when the need for counseling comes. It is something I would never trade to have the privilege of praying with a newly bereaved relative thanking God for the life of their loved one, sometimes while the body is still in the room.

These intense times of ministry bond me with God’s people and remind me each time of some of the unique reasons I love being God’s hands and feet. It is also special to be able to often minister during these highs and lows in people’s lives with my wife as she uses her gifts with me. May I never take this for granted.

#3 – I get a front-row seat to God’s work.

Another benefit to being a pastor that I love is getting a front-row seat to God’s work. The average church member does not have the joy of seeing some of the mercy ministry that goes on in secret in the life of a church. It is a holy privilege to know about an act of love in Jesus’ name that only God, me, and the other person involved know about due to confidentiality. It is a distinctive joy to not only ache at marriage problems but also to rejoice with a couple who is now reaping the benefits of following God’s ways in their relationship. I alone get to “see the light bulb come on” in the middle of a sermon for that person who has been trying to figure out what they believe about Jesus. I alone sometimes get to see tears of repentance over sin or tears of hope due to longing for Heaven and being reunited with a beloved spouse or child.

I know that God is always doing a million things and that we are usually only aware of a few of them at any given moment, but as a pastor, I literally get to see God’s invisible hand working out his plan for his glory and his people’s good every week, if I have the eyes to see it. May I never take this for granted.

#4 – I get to see people come to know Jesus as Savior and Lord and then baptize them.

“I wasn’t sure before, but I know that I know Jesus now,” the 16-year old boy told me in the car as we drove from Subway after getting his monthly favorite sub (ham with black olives–lots of black olives!) and catching up on high school life.

“What’s the change?” I asked, excited as I had been praying for him for years as he had been coming to youth group ever since I became a youth pastor.

“I didn’t care about sin before, but now I don’t want to sin anymore because I love Jesus,” he replied.

I never would have been part of that conversation if God had not called me to be a pastor. Baptisms–whether the believer going public grew up in the church or recently began to attend–are some of the most joyous Sundays on the calendar. When you get to talk about the gospel, make disciples, and baptize as part of your job, you are blessed. May I never take this for granted.

#5 – I get the privilege of serving Jesus as his errand boy.

Harold Senkbeil, in his book The Care of Souls, says that a sheepdog always has his tail wagging when he is working, and one eye always on his master. Too often my tail is not wagging, but those are the moments or days that I have my eyes off of my master. But some days, as I look to the day ahead and ask Jesus for strength and wisdom to serve his church that he has promised to build, it will hit me with a wave of joy: I get the privilege to serve Jesus as his errand boy today—wherever and in whatever way he may choose to take me for that day or that season. May I never take this for granted.

I don’t say it often enough—I love being a pastor.

Editor’s Note: This piece originally appeared at the Baptist Convention of New England blog and is used with permission.



Matt Capps on Transitioning to Pastoral Ministry

By / Jul 1

We asked Matt Capps, "Recently transitioning back into pastoral ministry, what do you feel prepared for this time around?"