Rend Your Heart

By / Dec 18

“Rend your heart, and not your garments.”
Joel 2:13

Garment-rending and other outward signs of religious emotion, are easily manifested and are frequently hypocritical; but to feel true repentance is far more difficult, and consequently far less common. Men will attend to the most multiplied and minute ceremonial regulations–for such things are pleasing to the flesh–but true religion is too humbling, too heart-searching, too thorough for the tastes of the carnal men; they prefer something more ostentatious, flimsy, and worldly. Outward observances are temporarily comfortable; eye and ear are pleased; self-conceit is fed, and self-righteousness is puffed up: but they are ultimately delusive, for in the article of death, and at the day of judgment, the soul needs something more substantial than ceremonies and rituals to lean upon. Apart from vital godliness all religion is utterly vain; offered without a sincere heart, every form of worship is a solemn sham and an impudent mockery of the majesty of heaven.

Heart-rending is divinely wrought and solemnly felt. It is a secret grief which is personally experienced, not in mere form, but as a deep, soul-moving work of the Holy Spirit upon the inmost heart of each believer. It is not a matter to be merely talked of and believed in, but keenly and sensitively felt in every living child of the living God. It is powerfully humiliating, and completely sin-purging; but then it is sweetly preparative for those gracious consolations which proud unhumbled spirits are unable to receive; and it is distinctly discriminating, for it belongs to the elect of God, and to them alone.

The text commands us to rend our hearts, but they are naturally hard as marble: how, then, can this be done? We must take them to Calvary: a dying Saviour’s voice rent the rocks once, and it is as powerful now. O blessed Spirit, let us hear the death-cries of Jesus, and our hearts shall be rent even as men rend their vestures in the day of lamentation.



Jesus Our Hope

By / Dec 17

The two disciples began the seven-mile walk home from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Despairing recent events, they didn’t notice the man joining their party until he began talking. Had they known him? They certainly had, though they were unaware at the moment. In an ironic twist, the topic of their home going discussion was now one of their carpool. The one whom they had hoped was the one to redeem Israel (Luke 24:21) was alive again. Their hope was not put to shame (Romans 5:5). But they couldn’t see that yet. Oh, how hope is often veiled by own our doubts!

It’s a common fear, this putting to shame of one’s hope. It is a fire easily extinguished by the wet blanket of the world’s disappointments. By definition, hope is something future-oriented, out beyond, something promised though not yet possessed. Anything out in the future is, of course, uncertain, and that uncertainty plays with our mind. The things we hope for (and hope in) can let us down. We’ve been there a thousand times, haven’t we? The hoped-for Christmas present never comes. The hoped-for spouse never asks you out. The hoped-for promotion never materializes. To grow up in this world is to grow up learning to deal with disappointment.

Hope, it seems, is a fickle thing. Perhaps it’s something better left alone. That’s why so many today seem to have none. Why bother? So cynicism reigns. Things might be okay later on, but don’t get your hopes up. Everything ultimately disappoints. Even death, that release into the great land beyond is now thought by so many as a great nothingness—a removal of sorts from all that matters, never subjecting one to pain again, nor, for that matter, to any other emotion. Culturally, our hope amounts to nothing. The great hope of the enlightenment, that we were progressing upwardly, soon to be far better versions of ourselves, is no longer enough. We aren’t progressing—the twentieth century proved that well enough—but now we’re barely even trying. We dull our fears with entertainment and erase our eternal hopes with something more instantly gratifying: another hit of sugar, another purchase from Amazon, another trip to the beach, anything short-lived because who has time for things to come one day? So credit card bills carry a never decreasing balance because someone has to foot the bill of our hopelessness.

The Emmaus road disciples would find a home in twenty-first-century America. Obviously, Jesus is dead, yet the world still spins. Death is imminent but better left unconsidered. Going home is the only option left. At least there’s comfort there as we wait out the rest of our days.

But as they walked, their new partner rebuked their lack of faith and spoke wonderful things to them from the Bible. He proved something, though they weren’t sure at the time what the point was. All they knew was that their hearts began to light up with something pushing them onward, a burning inside that restored the hope they thought they’d lost (Luke 24:32). They went home despairing a dead Jesus but on the way, they met a living savior.

Hope is born out of such things. It’s when our head is lowest and our hearts are dimmest that Jesus does his best work, even if that work has been there from the foundation of the world. It’s us that needs to see it, and it’s to us that Jesus comes, rebuking if he must, but still lovingly bearing with us as if we’re the only ones in the world. To him, we are. You, Christian, are his mission—the very reason he lived, died, and rose again. In his glory, he has all the time in the world for you. All the patience too, it seems. He aims to make his people not only able to bear with the world he left them in but to make them hopeful in the living.

That day, Jesus taught his disciples (and therefore us) to look beyond this world. Christians do not set their hope on the uncertainty of worldly riches be they life or treasure. Christians set their hopes, rather, on God who richly provides (1 Timothy 6:17). Christian hope is solid and firm, like the Rock it stands upon. More than vague optimism, Christian hope is the firm conviction of things not yet seen that are coming sure as the morning sun—like a risen Savior revealing the glory of what’s really before us.

The Bible is riddled with hope. Open it, and like a spring tightly wound, it jumps. Even the darkest moments glimmer with something better coming quickly from heaven. It seems that for the saints of Hebrews 11, every day was like Christmas Eve. By faith, they followed the Lord where he led. As a child waking too early in the morning, not all their steps were sure, but they knew something great was coming.

Every Christmas we celebrate the coming of King Jesus. But the hope of the world did not end 2,000 years ago on the cross. The hope of Christmas was not only that Jesus came into the world back then but that he’s coming again very soon. It is that great hope to which the New Testament points. Yes, Jesus accomplished our salvation on the cross. That’s the “already” of the gospel. But the “not yet” is out ahead. So Christians serve the living God today because, as Paul tells Timothy, “We have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior” (1 Timothy 4:10).

As the prophets of old grounded the hopes of Israel in the certainty of God’s promises, so Jesus grounds the hopes of Christians in the certainty of the same. Jesus grounds our hope in the certainty of God himself. Jesus, our hope, has more than the shifting winds of circumstance and chance. Jesus, our hope, has the firmness of the promises of God. What God has said surely will come to pass (Joshua 21:45, Isaiah 14:24, Ezekiel 12:25). Christian hope is a certainty, even if he in which we place our hope cannot be seen. As the apostle Paul said, we walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

When the world gets dark, as it did that day on the road to Emmaus, we say things like “it’s hard to keep hope alive.” But we don’t have to keep this hope alive. Our hope isn’t a vague self-willed determination. It’s a person. And Jesus is alive. If he is our hope, it matters not how you feel about your hope. Jesus died and rose again so that even when our hope fades, his resurrection glory burns all the brighter.

“For all the promises of God find their Yes in him” (2 Corinthians 1:20). Placing our hope in the promises of God apart from the person of God ensures disappointment. Misplaced hope is a terrible thing to live with. But placed in the crucified hands of Jesus, hope holds us up because Jesus holds us up. The one we hoped would be the redeemer of Israel is the redeemer of Israel. Hope proves himself. Hope becomes a solid foundation rather than a wobbly anticipation.

J.I. Packer helps us understand the biblical meaning of hope in his Concise Theology.

Living between the two comings of Christ, Christians are to look backward and forward: back to the manger, the cross, and the empty tomb, whereby salvation was won for them; forward to their meeting with Christ beyond this world, their personal resurrection, and the joy of being with their Savior in glory forever. New Testament devotion is consistently oriented to this hope; Christ is “our hope” (1 Tim. 1:1) and we serve “the God of hope” (Rom. 15:13). Faith itself is defined as “being sure of what we hope for” (Heb. 11:1), and Christian commitment is defined as having “fled to take hold of … this hope as an anchor for the soul” (Heb. 6:18-19). When Jesus directed his disciples to lay up treasure in heaven, because “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matt. 6:21), he was saying in effect, as Peter was later to say, “set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Pet. 1:13).

Hope, for the Christian, is as firm as can be, and even our suffering can’t take it away. As Packer goes on to say, “Though the Christian life is regularly marked more by suffering than by triumph (1 Corinthians 4:8-13; 2 Corinthians 4:7-18; Acts 14:22), our hope is sure and our mood should be one of unquenchable confidence: we are on the victory side.”

We are on the victory side not because we are overcomers but because Jesus, our hope, is the Overcomer. Christian hope, therefore, is resting in the victory of Jesus. It is knowing that he cares for his people and will bring them home—or, more precisely, he will bring his home to them, making new what we destroyed.

That evening after the long journey home, Jesus sat with his disciples and did what he’d done so many times before. He took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them (Luke 24:30). And when they ate, as Adam and Eve’s eyes were opened to their sin, these disciples’ eyes were opened to their Savior. They saw before them Hope himself. And they ran back to Jerusalem to share the good news with their brothers and sisters in hope.



Jeff Dodge on The Local Church and Theological Training

By / Dec 17

We asked Jeff Dodge, Teach Pastor at Cornerstone Church in Ames, Iowa, “Why is the local church integral to theological training?”



How Theology Drives Missions

By / Dec 16

We live in a culture that pits practice against knowledge. In Christian circles, this often takes the form of separating theology from mission and stressing pragmatism (“what works”) over theological analysis. The cry is often heard: “Just tell me what to do!” Theology is regarded as dry, speculative, and divisive. Mission is about action, and action is good.

The Bible operates very differently from this way of thinking. There is a lot of theology in Scripture, and that theology flows directly into practice. The letters of the New Testament, for example, often contain deep theological teaching followed by the word “therefore” and an explanation of how believers should live in light of that theological truth. It would be safe to say that all practice in the Bible is theologically grounded. We are to live the way we live and do the things we do because of what is true. Some definitions are in order. What is “theology” and what is “mission”? In historic evangelical Christianity, theology is simply the whole teaching of Scripture on the subjects that are central in the Bible. Those subjects include, supremely, God Himself (theology = theos + logos, or the study of God), but they also include his Word, his Son, his Spirit, humanity, the problem of sin, how people are saved, his Church with its practices and mission, and the progress and destiny of history. Scripture is the final authority and controlling source of theology in evangelical Christianity.

However, we do not look at Scripture in a vacuum. We interpret it in a certain way, according to established rules for understanding various types of texts in their contexts. So, hermeneutics[1] is an essential component of our theological method. We also look at Scripture in light of the study, contemplation, and controversies of the people of God across both geography and history. There is nothing new under the sun, and issues that appear new to a modern Christian have probably been studied and argued in other places and other times. Our ancestors in the faith have wrestled with the text of Scripture for centuries. In the process, they have discovered both blind alleys to be avoided and agreements that have stood the test of time. Scripture has the final word; Church tradition does not. However, we would be fools to ignore the experience and insights of our brothers and sisters in Christ who have wrestled hard with these same issues but who happened to live in another place and time.

Theology is shaped by missiology in profound ways. Throughout history, theological controversies have grown out of missionary experience. That was certainly the case in the early church. The great confessions of the fourth and fifth centuries (such as the Nicene Creed and the Chalcedonian Formula) were the fruit of missionary experience and missionary efforts at contextualization.[2]  The early church had to express the gospel in the cultural context of a Hellenistic world that conceived of reality in terms that were very different from the world-view of the Bible. That Hellenistic worldview pressed in on the church’s teaching in ways that threatened to compromise the integrity of the gospel. Church leaders wrestled with the text of Scripture in light of the challenges presented by their cultural context. The result was an understanding of the Person of Christ and the Trinity that has stood the scrutiny of time down to the present. The missionary experience of advancing the gospel into a new cultural context forced the development of theological expression. The fact that the same unbiblical errors they faced then have continued to plague the church in the centuries since simply shows the value of considering church history as we do theology in our day.

The example of the controversies of the early church leads us to another important feature of theology. Theological thinking will address certain issues, such as the nature and character of God or the person and work of Christ, in every cultural setting, for the compelling reason that those issues are central to Scripture. However, in some places or times, other issues will emerge that must be addressed from Scripture as well.

In the modern world, the issue of abortion falls in this category. The 1963 edition of the Baptist Faith and Message said nothing about abortion or the sanctity of life in the womb for the simple reason that it was not an issue in the United States at that time. The consensus of American culture agreed with the teaching of Scripture that you should not kill babies in their mothers’ wombs. By the year 2000, that consensus had changed. The legalization of abortion in the United States in 1973 forced Southern Baptists, in company with other evangelical Christians, to think through their understanding of the Bible on this issue. As a result, the Baptist Faith and Message 2000 contained a new statement marking conception as the beginning of human life. The addition did not represent a change in Southern Baptist theology; the changing cultural context simply made it necessary to speak to an issue that had not needed commentary in a previous context. In the same way, believers in non-Western cultures may need to address issues that Western Christians do not encounter.

What is missiology, and how does it relate to theology? Missiology is the study of the mission God has given His people to do. It answers two questions: “What is God’s mission?” and “How do God’s people accomplish it?” Behind both questions, however, there is a more foundational issue: how do we know how to answer these questions? Where do we go to find the answers? What authority (if any) governs how we answer them?

Just as the proper study of systematic theology begins with an examination of epistemology (how do we know what we know?) and theological method (what are the rules of the game for answering our questions?), missiology must also examine its sources, presuppositions, and methodology before proceeding to the task itself. It must show how it will find and assess answers to its questions before it can honestly proceed to finding and assessing them.

What we do is shaped by what we believe is true. This is the point at which theology intersects with missiology. Whether mission strategists realize it or not, the answers they give to our two foundational questions (“What is our mission?” and “How do we do it?”) accurately reflect what they believe is true and what they value as important. Theology shapes mission, and missiology reveals theology. Whatever someone may say they believe, what they do shows what they truly believe.

There is a real sense in which all the major heads of doctrine in a good systematic theology define our missiology. That begins with our doctrine of Scripture itself. Because we believe the Bible is the Word of God (“breathed out by God,” in the words of 2 Tm 3:16), it carries the authority of God Himself. It defines both the nature of our mission and the means by which we accomplish it because it is the Word of the King of the universe. Because we believe the Bible is inerrant, we can trust it. Because it is sufficient, we do not need other sources to tell us what to do. The Bible is our source for answering our missiological questions. We can learn from other sources, such as cultural studies and communication theory, but we need to examine and evaluate all of them strictly in light of Scripture. Because it is clear concerning everything we need to know, we do not need any outside authority to explain it to us or apply it for us. The Bible rules our understanding and practice of missions.

When we say that the Bible controls our missiology, we are making some assumptions about the way the Bible is interpreted (hermeneutics, as we mentioned earlier). It is possible to wrench verses out of context, or read things into verses that are not there, and prove anything. The text must be in control of our interpretation. This includes considering the grammar, the historical context of the passage, and the place of each passage in its paragraph, chapter, book, testament, and the grand narrative of Scripture. Sober, responsible hermeneutics are necessary for sound theology and good missiology.

The other heads of doctrine are equally significant for evangelical missiology. The doctrine of God affects every aspect of our understanding of missions. Because God is infinitely glorious, absolute in his Being, creator of everything, and transcendent over all he has made, the mission of his people is about him. The glory of God and the advance of his agenda in the world are the focus of the church’s mission. It is not about us, and it is not ultimately about the lost among the nations. Because God is who he is, he is the center of everything, and everything must be done under his direction and for his glory. God’s plan is to fill the earth with the knowledge of his glory as the waters cover the sea. Our mission, under his sovereign rule, must advance the knowledge and worship of God using the means he has prescribed so that both the end and the means glorify him.

In the same way, the biblical doctrine of humanity exerts a profound influence on our missiology. God made humanity, male and female, in his image. However, the first man and woman rebelled against God by disbelieving his Word and disobeying his command. The result was disastrous, and it set the stage for the mission he has given his people. From the time of Adam and Eve onward, every person in the world is guilty before God, corrupted in every part of their nature, spiritually dead, and unable to do anything to save themselves. Everything else that is wrong in the world proceeds from this fundamental issue. At the very least, this says two things about our mission. First, the greatest need of every man, woman, and child is a salvation that includes forgiveness of sins, spiritual resurrection, and inner transformation. Second, because people are spiritually dead, only supernatural means will accomplish anything. Persuasion is appropriate, but not enough. Coercion, deceit, or manipulation are out of the question. Only the power of God can save someone.

God’s solution to humanity’s dilemma is Jesus. Scriptural theology teaches us that God became a man in the Person of Jesus Christ, taking full humanity to himself while remaining fully God. He lived the life we should have lived, as our substitute and federal head, and then died the death we deserved to die, taking on himself the wrath due for our sin. He conquered sin, death, and Satan by rising again from the dead, never to die again. He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father, where he intercedes for his people. He will come again in glory at the end of the age. He is the only way that any sinner can be saved. Everyone who repents of their rebellion against God and puts their trust in him will be justified before God, made alive by the Holy Spirit, and guaranteed eternity with God in glory. There is salvation in no one else. Anyone who trusts in him will be saved, but no one is saved apart from receiving the gospel and believing in Jesus. He closed his ministry on earth by commanding his people repeatedly to take this Good News to the ends of the earth to make disciples of all peoples. The mission of the people of God is profoundly Christ-centered. What the Bible teaches about the person and work of Jesus is the very heart of Christian mission.

Everyone on earth is a sinful rebel. Everyone who is judged by God based on their own record will be justly condemned. Jesus is the only savior for sinners. No one can be saved apart from the Good News of Jesus. Anyone who repents of their sin and trusts in Jesus will be saved. The Holy Spirit works through the proclamation of the Good News to take dead sinners and make them alive in a miracle that can only be described as new birth. These are theological statements, and they form the bedrock of a biblical missiology. Because these things are true, the mission of the church is irreducibly evangelistic.

Furthermore, this mission is not designed to produce mere converts but to produce disciples.

Disciples are made in the context of healthy local churches. The biblical theology of the church is rich with instruction on the nature, structure, and functions of a healthy local assembly. These churches themselves need leaders grounded well in biblical doctrine so they can instruct God’s people and protect them from false teachers. The whole counsel of God on what He means by “church” is essential to a healthy missiology.

God has commanded his people to proclaim the biblical gospel and to make disciples who are increasingly conformed to the image of Christ. He has commanded his people to plant churches that exhibit all the characteristics described by a robustly biblical ecclesiology. He has commanded his people to train leaders who are exemplary disciples themselves and who are adept at theological analysis and teaching among every tribe, tongue, people, and nation on earth. The mission of the church is, therefore, a theological statement: under the authority of Scripture, because of who God is, who we are, who Christ is, what He has done, the person and work of the Holy Spirit, the nature and role of the church, and the destiny of history, we are to proclaim the Good News, disciple believers, form healthy churches, and train leaders among every people group on earth. Further, we are to do all of these in robustly theological ways.

In the face of contemporary pragmatism, it is critically important that our missiology is shaped by the full scope of our theology. Because the gospel is profoundly uncomfortable to fallen sinners, there is every temptation to water down the message or soften its rough edges. In the face of unbiblical religious systems that deny central doctrines of Christian theology, it is tempting to downplay things like the uniqueness and deity of our Lord Jesus Christ. Church, done correctly, is hard, and it is especially hard in environments where Christians are persecuted. Some missionary agencies skip church altogether, and some missionaries redefine it in ways that compromise biblical standards to bypass the difficulties. Only a thoroughly theological approach to missionary practice will safeguard us from errors like these.

However, the relationship between theology and mission goes two ways. Just as good missiology must be rooted in theology, good theology must produce missions. Anyone who claims to have mastered evangelical theology but is not thereby driven into missionary practice does not understand their theology at all. If you understand who God is, the spiritual condition and destiny of the peoples of the world, the glories of the gospel, the nature of Christian discipleship, and the trajectory of history under the sovereign hand of God, you will be compelled to take part in God’s global mission. If you are not, you either do not understand your theology, or you do not actually know God.

Notes:

[1] Hermeneutics is the technical term for the philosophy and methodology of interpreting texts.

[2] Contextualization is the attempt to make the Christian faith intelligible, and the Christian church at home, in a given cultural context, without compromising or distorting Biblical truth.

Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared in Midwestern Magazine.



Deacons’ Wives or Deaconesses? 1 Timothy 3:11 Reconsidered

By / Dec 16

Recently, my fellow elders and I took a weekend retreat devoted to thinking carefully about a handful of matters related to our church. One of the topics under consideration was whether women should be included in the diaconate.

Our church has always had only men serve as deacons, but we wanted to seriously consider whether 1 Timothy 3:11 taught that women should be deacons as well. As anyone who has studied this passage in detail knows, there are compelling arguments on each side of the debate. In this short article, I will detail some of those arguments and then describe why we ultimately landed on “deacon’s wives.” The major reason I decided to write this article was not to try and convince everyone that we were right, but, rather, to provide a basic intro into the relevant arguments on each side and to hopefully provide some guidance along the way.

Perhaps the most helpful place to begin is to read the passage at hand. 1 Timothy 3:8-13 (ESV) says,

8 Deacons likewise must be dignified, not double-tongued, not addicted to much wine, not greedy for dishonest gain. 9 They must hold the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience. 10 And let them also be tested first; then let them serve as deacons if they prove themselves blameless. 11 Their wives likewise must be dignified, not slanderers, but sober-minded, faithful in all things. 12 Let deacons each be the husband of one wife, managing their children and their own households well. 13 For those who serve well as deacons gain a good standing for themselves and also great confidence in the faith that is in Christ Jesus.

Before looking at specific arguments, a general comment is in order to set the stage for the discussion. The focus of this debate is on verse 11. In this verse, Paul says that “‘gynaikas’ must be dignified, not slanderers, but sober minded, faithful in all things.” The difficulty is that gynaikas can either mean “woman” or “wife” depending on the context. Therefore, depending on how one interprets the context, the text can legitimately read either “wives must be dignified…” (as in deacon’s wives, though there is no modifier in the text) or “women must be dignified…” (as in “women deacons” or “deaconesses”). Hopefully, the rest of this article will help you as you think through the relevant argumentation on each side.

Arguments for Deaconesses

Let’s now turn our attention to the arguments for deaconesses. First, Paul uses gynaikas eight other times in 1 Timothy and, in most of these occurrences, “women” is the proper understanding and not “wives.” More specifically, in 1 Timothy 2:9, the same phrasing occurs using “women likewise” (gynaikas hosautos). Therefore, since this phrase in 1 Tim 2:9 is understood to be “women likewise,” we should also expect this phrase in 3:11 to be understood the same way. Second, why would there be qualifications for deacons’ wives but not elders’ wives? One could argue that it would be even more important for an elders’ wife to be qualified than for a deacons’ wife. Third, there is no possessive modifier in the text, meaning “their”, as in “their wives,” is not actually in the Greek text. Fourth, hosautos (“likewise”) is used in v. 8 to introduce the qualifications for deacons. Its use in v. 11 seems to indicate that a new category is being introduced that is parallel to deacons, namely, the office of deaconess. Fifth, the awkward structure of the passage (male deacon qualifications vv. 8-10, then deaconess qualifications v. 11, then back to male deacon qualifications v. 12) is explained by the fact that Paul “bookends” the qualifications for the deaconate with general qualifications (vv. 8-10, v. 13) and then in between he specifically addresses female deacons (v. 11) and male deacons (v. 12). Overall, we can see a compelling case in which this passage supports the view of deaconesses.

Arguments for Deacon’s Wives

Now, let’s consider the arguments for understanding this passage to be referring to deacon’s wives. First, in the very next verse, gynaikas is understood as “wife” (“Let deacons each be the husband of one wife”). The immediate context of v. 12 should have more weight on our understanding of gynaikas than the similar phrasing using hosautos in 1 Timothy 2:9. Second, if Paul were referring to deaconesses, why would he use the ambiguous gynaikas? Though there was not yet a Greek term for “deaconess” at the time Paul penned this epistle, diakonous is what is known in Greek as a third declension noun that could be either masculine or feminine. Therefore, if Paul intended to clearly communicate that he was referring to female deacons, all he had to do was add a feminine article to the noun. Third, if Paul were referring to deaconesses, why would he not include marriage qualifications for them as he had previously done for elders (v. 2) and male deacons (v. 12)? Fourth, the structure of the passage is awkward in that it goes from male deacon qualifications (vv. 8-10) to female deacons (v. 11), and then back to male deacons again (v. 12). Finally, as to why Paul would include qualifications for deacons’ wives and not elders’ wives, Guy Waters writes,

In light of the sensitivities surrounding deacons’ work, and in light of the fact that wives may be called on to assist their husbands–particularly in addressing the needs of the church’s women–one could see why Paul might have desired that the church be satisfied with the character of a candidate and his wife as they assessed his suitability for the diaconate.

While one may be more or less convinced by arguments on each side, it should be clear that there are valid textual arguments–as well as arguments from silence–on both sides of this exegetical debate. What is one to do, then?

The Tipping Point

For me, the tipping point that led me to side with the view of deacons’ wives involved three arguments in particular. First, the structure of the passage turned out to be paramount in my mind. The explanation for the awkward structure by those who hold to deaconesses is that Paul addresses general diaconal qualifications in vv. 8-10, then specific qualifications for women in v. 11, then male specific qualifications in v. 12, and then concludes by once again addressing deacons in general in v. 13. While this is at first compelling, a closer look proved unconvincing to me. The problem is that Paul begins the so-called general qualifications in v. 8 with “Deacons likewise must be dignified.” Now consider how Paul begins v. 11: “Their wives likewise must be dignified.” If v. 8-10 were general qualifications, then why would Paul repeat “dignified” again when considering deaconesses? In light of this, it seems more likely that vv. 8-10 are not general but are set apart, in a sense, from the qualifications that are given to the women in v. 11. Ultimately, this would mean that male deacons have 4 verses specifically dedicated to them and female deacons would have just one. The lack of qualifications is problematic if Paul were actually speaking to the office of deaconess. The more natural reading of the text, then, seems to be that vv. 11-12 would fall under family and marriage qualifications for male deacons, which is not too dissimilar to elder qualifications mentioned above (vv. 1-7).

Second, along the same line of thought concerning qualifications, the fact that Paul does not include marriage qualifications for women is troublesome for the position that this could be referring to deaconesses. When I began to study this issue, I initially thought Paul probably left off marriage qualifications because of a cultural reason. Meaning, men were often more sexually promiscuous in the ancient world, so it was likely assumed that women didn’t need to be told to be a “one-man woman.” However, the problem with this reasoning is that widows were not allowed to be enrolled to receive support by the church if they were not “one-man women” (1 Tim 5:9). Therefore, this does not seem to be a cultural issue, but, rather, the reason there is not a marriage qualification for the women in v. 11 is because Paul is not describing a new office but is, instead, continuing to describe qualifications for male deacons.

Finally, though this may appear insignificant, if the structural argument by those who hold to deaconesses is adopted (general qualifications vv. 8-10, female v. 11, male v. 12, general v. 13), then why does Paul use “diakonoi” in v. 12 instead of “aner” (meaning “male”)? In other words, why would Paul say in v. 11, “women” and then in v. 12 say, “deacons” instead of “men”? If he were actually referring to male and female deacon qualifications, we would expect him to use “women” and “men” instead of “women” and “deacons.” The fact that Paul uses “diakonoi” in v. 12 seems to be another reason to favor the understanding that he is continuously addressing male deacon qualifications in v. 8-13. With this understanding in view, “deacons’ wives” seems to me to be the best understanding of v. 11.

In conclusion, I recognize that this is not a simple exegetical matter to think through. As stated above, there are sound arguments on both sides. This is not a matter in which we should be utterly dogmatic. Rather, when discussing or even debating this passage, charity is essential. My hope is that this article will be a helpful starting place for those who are new to the topic or additional exegetical fodder for those who are trying to work out what they believe.



Episode 147: FTC Mailbag

By / Dec 15

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz answer reader-submitted questions on leaving a ministry well, pros and cons of multi-site churches, the problems with “vritual reality” church, the trend of deconstruction, and more.



My Cup Overflows

By / Dec 15

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. – Psalm 23:5

Psalm 23:5 envisions a great banquet. David is not just an invited guest. He is the guest of honor. As David enjoyed the delicacies at the table, his mortal enemies stand around the table looking on. David did not fear the evil in the valley because of his shepherd. And David did not fear the presence of his enemies because of his host.

David was not a delegate who negotiated his way to the table. He was a friend with a reserved place at the table. To make this clear to David’s congregated adversaries, the host breaks open an expensive flask of fragrant oil and pours it on David’s head. This is more than basic hospitality. It is extravagant generosity. When the host puts the bottle of wine down, he picks up a bottle of wine and pours it into David’s cup until it overflows.

David was a recipient of personal, ongoing, and abundant blessings. This is the testimony of all who trust in the Lord. Pessimists see the cup half-empty. Optimists see the cup half-full. Christians see the cup running over.

The Hand That Pours

Psalm 23 is not the boast of a spoiled youth. This is not the testimony of a trouble-free life. It is not the memoir of a peacetime king. David was a neglected shepherd boy in his father’s house. David was a fugitive from the murderous ways of Saul. David was a father whose rebellious children broke his heart. David was a wartime king who faced one enemy after another. David was an exile whose own sought to overthrow him, Yet David exclaims, “My cup overflows.”

Unbelief only sees an empty cup. Doubt debates whether the cup is half-full or half-empty. Worry fears the cup will be lost, broken, or stolen. Faith sings of an overflowing cup. “My cup” is tied to “my shepherd.” You cannot separate the cup that overflows from the hand that pours (Psalm 16:5). Cups break. But God has more cups in the cupboard. When your cup breaks, God is able to give you another cup. If you know and trust the hand that pours into our cup, you can sing, “My cup overflows,” no matter the circumstances.

The Cup That Receives

Metaphorically, a cup refers to one’s life, fate, or destiny. It usually warns of impending judgment. When a cup is used as a metaphor in scripture, it is typically not good news (Psalm 16:5; Jeremiah 25:15-16; Revelations 14:9-10). In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39). The cross was the cup. The Righteous one said, “I thirst,” so that sinful ones can sing, “My cup overflows.”

Because of Christ, your cup is not empty. God pours favor into your cup. It is not just a sip. God fills our cups to the brim. He does not stop here. God pours until our cups overflow. Do not complain that you do not have what you desire. Thank God that you do not have what you deserve. Do not compare, compete, or complain. If you try to move your cup, you will miss the outflow that leads to overflow. The Lord can make your cup overflow wherever you sit.

The Drink That Satisfies

Nothing in this world can satisfy the thirst of the soul. But there is a storehouse of blessings available to all who are in Christ (Ephesians 1:3). It is yours for the asking. Lift your cup to the Lord. Your cup is not greater than God’s fountain. Your thirst is not greater than God’s supply. Your need is not greater than God’s provision. Your weakness is not greater than God’s strength. Your hurt is not greater than God’s comfort. Your sin is not greater than God’s grace.

God is able to bless you in superabundance (Ephesians 3:20). You ask for one blessing. God gives many blessings. You needed help to forgive. God enables you to forgive and forget. You ask for a job. God gives you a career. You desire the pain to stop. God heals you completely. You wanted a loved-one to stop acting up. God radically changes their lives. You yearn for the Lord to use you. God grants you a fruitful ministry to many. Your cup overflows! An overflowing cup should result in overflowing praise.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at hbcharlesjr.com. 



Loving Even the Cantankerous

By / Dec 15

He was one of the most cantankerous men I had ever known. When all the church wished to move forward into a new area of ministry, you could count on him confronting the elders about it in a negative way. In fact, “negative” was his middle name. Our system of decision-making did not allow his views to be buried in a hidden vote, but brought him straight into contact with the leaders with whom he almost always disagreed. Time after time, there he was, the only “aginner.”

What did we do?

The leaders decided not to solve the problem administratively, by a system change. No, we were looking for a heart change. We felt we should confront him directly in the hope that he could become the man God wanted him to be. Much to our surprise, it worked! He received our admonition with amazing calm. He appreciated our concern. And he completely reset his life and renewed his sense of commitment to the church. At the end of it all, our greatest leadership curmudgeon became one of our most reliable allies. Love won out.

Why should we desire love above administrative solutions?

First of all, love is the highest mark of maturity. Therefore, not loving the other members of the church is a sign of our immaturity. There may be problems with the other person that are inexcusable, but no problem makes love impossible. In fact, it might be love that calls for helping the offending person see the right way, if you can do it with grace. Or, in other cases, it might mean overlooking his or her fault.

Second, love is the “perfect bond of unity,” the glue that keeps the church together, according to the apostle Paul (Col. 3:14). Do you want unity in the church? Of course you do. But love is critical to make that happen. A church that does not major on love is headed toward disruption. Nothing bonds like love as it works itself out in forgiveness and acceptance.

Third, love is the way of blessing because it is grounded in humility.

“Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others” (Phil. 2:3-4).

God says that the humble person is the blessed person. “Clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, for ‘God is opposed to the proud, but gives grace to the humble’” (1 Pet. 5:5). A church is always in need of more grace. More grace comes from more humility toward each other. And humility toward others is, in essence, love at work.

Finally, love is the reasonable return for what God has given you. “Forgive each other as God, for Christ’s sake, has forgiven you” (Col. 3:13; Rom. 15:7). Christians should never forget God’s mercy toward them. If you have experienced the love of God, it is natural for you to extend the same toward others.

Getting practical toward the persons hardest to love

As you are seeking to raise the level of love in the church as a whole, some will not cooperate. Here are some practical reminders for loving the cantankerous person, the person who seems to be out of sync with everyone.

  1. Invite him to your home. His fear of you may be at the heart of his problem. Deflate that by letting him into your life. When he is there in your home, give him much respect, ask him questions and show genuine loving interest. It will do both of you good. Often people squeal only because nobody pays them any attention.
  2. Try to find out what drives him. Most people are resistant to change. This man will likely think of a certain period in his church life as the most exciting. Perhaps in the 50’s he was the young married man who had a lot to do with the changes taking place then (there were plenty of them). He fought for them and they appeared to succeed. But now he is marginalized and someone is introducing changes that leave him cold. You could do well to find out more about his way of thinking. And remember that you might be in the same position someday.
  3. Within reason, give him some servant responsibility. I don’t think we ought to promote cantankerous people to positions that give them a platform for their negativity. Nor do we reward sin. Yet, all believers should serve. Perhaps this difficult person had notable responsibilities in the past, but now has none. Imagine how he feels. Yet there are important jobs that he can do, and do well. Employ him in a servant’s role (rather than a management role) that makes a difference. Check up on his progress and commend him when appropriate.
  4. Confront him if he continues to cause problems in the church. It is sinful to disrupt church unity, so, sadly, you must confront people who are creating unrest. Do it kindly, with as much interest in their side as possible. See if God will turn on the light of understanding for both of you. Pray much for a loving attitude toward him. If he persists in sin, he will need further discussions and even a rebuke or church discipline.[1]

The church’s unity and loving acceptance is not a minor matter, and is worth all your efforts at restoring it. This will always involve reaching out to the resistant persons in the group. Do it with genuine love. The old poem by Edward Markham is still instructional:

He drew a circle that shut me out,

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But Love and I had the wit to win,

We drew a circle that took him in.

When the cantankerous person will not keep from harming the church, action must be taken that maintains the unity of the Spirit without him. Sad, but true. It is loving toward the disruptive person and toward the church as a whole to deal decisively with this disunity, and it must be done.

[1] See Restoring Those Who Fall, a church discipline policy statement for clear instructions. Order at www.CCWtoday.org.

 

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published at ccwtoday.org. 



Getting Started with Gospel Conversations

By / Dec 14

You want to engage your family, friends, and neighbors in gospel conversations, but you don’t know what to say or you feel awkward moving the conversation toward spiritual matters. Let me share two of my favorite questions that effortlessly lead any conversation toward the gospel. Don’t think of these questions as silver bullets; rather, they are tools for your toolbelt.

Before revealing the questions, let me explain why I love them. I love these questions because they remove two of the most common barriers to starting gospel conversations.

The first barrier is not knowing how to start. Many people appreciate learning these simple questions because they spell out what to say without being impersonal or mechanical. There is nothing wrong with having a stock question in your pocket that you can pull out any time you need it. Learning a stock question allows you to focus on the other person without worrying about what you will say right off the bat.

The second barrier is feeling weird, awkward, or uncomfortable. The world, the flesh, and the devil want to discourage you from speaking up by making you believe you will be a pariah. The great thing about these questions is that they are natural, casual, and disarming. You can ask them in all kinds of settings with people from all kinds of backgrounds. They are not offensive or jarring. In fact, most people are happy that you have taken an interest in them.

The first question is: “Do you consider yourself a spiritual person?” Along the same lines, you can ask, “Do you have any spiritual beliefs?”

Asking about a person’s spirituality moves the conversation a little beyond, “How’s the weather?” but it does not go so deep so fast that people put their guards up. In fact, most people are starved for meaningful conversation and they like talking about themselves. This is a “softball” question that gets them talking. Their answers provide a lot of insight into their beliefs and worldview. This insight comes in handy when tailoring your gospel conversation to them. Most people consider themselves spiritual in some sense, but even if they don’t have any spiritual beliefs, they will not mind the question. Regardless of what answer they give, you can probably find a tangent that connects to the gospel.

The second question is: “What do you think is the biggest problem in the world?”

Nearly everyone knows there is something wrong with the world. Even those few outliers who believe suffering is an illusion will complain about something sooner or later. Clearly the world is not the way it should be, so your conversation partner will have some opinion about the worst problem we face. Unlike the first question, this one is not an obvious turn toward spiritual things—but that is part of its beauty. You get a chance to learn a lot about the person’s values and priorities, which will help you craft a gospel message just for them.

I have asked this question all over the world, and the different responses always fascinate me. Some people say terrorism, others say corruption, and others say the economy. I have heard people say over-population, pollution, and climate change. You can agree that almost anything a person says is at least slightly problematic, so you do not have to directly contradict them. Sometimes, I will press them to see if they really believe they have identified the biggest problem in the world. I try to get them to dig a little more. More often, I say something like, “Yes, I can see why you would say that is a big problem, but I do not think that is the biggest problem we face. Those problems are external, but our biggest problem is internal. Most problems are the fruit, but the root is sin that separates us from God.”

I heard a story—possibly fictitious—about a London newspaper that asked its readers, “What is the biggest problem in the world?” Supposedly, G. K. Chesterton replied simply, “I am.” Apocryphal or not, this story captures the essence of what we want our audience to realize: each person’s biggest problem is sin.

Most people tend to shield their eyes from their own faults, blame others, make excuses, and externalize sin. Asking “What is the biggest problem in the world?” gives you an opportunity to discuss the seriousness of sin, the holiness of God, and the impending wrath of God against sin. Russian novelist and philosopher, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, wrote, “If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.”

One of the first jobs of evangelism is to help people confront the horror of their own sinful hearts. Helping individuals face the sinfulness of their hearts and their powerlessness to change it, we position them to appreciate the grandeur of the gospel. Each person has rebelled against God, disrespected his honor, and offended his holiness. Each person needs the salvation Jesus alone provides. Only Jesus fully obeyed the law of God, honored his heavenly Father, and lived in submission to the Holy Spirit. Jesus alone was qualified to represent humanity before God, and he bore the full weight of God’s wrath when he died on the cross. Jesus rose from the dead and conquered sin, death, hell, Satan, and he fully satisfied God’s justice. Through faith in Jesus, we are united to him. United to the eternal Son of God, we receive the status and position of adopted children of God.

The gospel message is good, and faithful Christians long for those around them to hear it and believe, but moving from surface-level topics to the gospel often seems like a daunting task. I pray the two questions described in this article will better equip you to seamlessly and fearlessly start gospel conversations. While talking about the gospel may cause offense, asking strategic questions may give you more confidence to try, and well-worded questions may give your audience a more receptive ear.

Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared in Midwestern Magazine.



Redeeming Pastoral Ambition

By / Dec 14

Forest fires rage each year in California and Arizona in the summer consuming everything in their path. Saplings as new as the spring and mature trees as old as the Declaration of Independence are scorched to ash. Too often, our desire for greatness is like that—an all-consuming fire.

CORRUPTING TRUE GREATNESS

The Bible recounts story after story of men and women who sought their own greatness. We see this in godless rulers such as Pharaoh in the book of Exodus and Nebuchadnezzar in the book of Daniel. Sometimes we see worldly glory seekers among the faithful, like when God rebuked Jeremiah’s trusted scribe, saying, “And do you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not” (Jeremiah 45:5).

Yet the quest for glory still rages. Incalculable amounts of exertion, passion, money, and skill are employed in the pursuit. If we could know our own hearts perfectly, we’d have to admit that this is our story too. Some vision of greatness, whether consciously or not, tugs us along. It seems to be the subject of every commencement speech. “Go change the world,” ambitious graduates are told, which usually means, “Go become great in the eyes of the world.” Our current culture of side-hustles can stoke discontentment too; at times I’ve struggled to feel like my calling to pastor a local church is enough, as though if I did more then I’d be something more worthwhile. I’m probably not the only pastor who feels this way.

The disciples of Jesus had this same problem. In Mark 9, after beholding the glory of their Lord in his transfiguration, Mark tells us the disciples engaged in quite possibly the dumbest argument in the history of the world: a fight over which of the disciples was the greatest.

The context of the conversation makes their argument even more ridiculous. Consider what happened in Mark 9. Jesus revealed his glory on the mountain, showing he’s not weak and feeble but strong and glorious. Jesus then received the stamp of approval from God the Father and was highlighted as far more important than Moses and Elijah, two significant Old Testament prophets. Then Jesus victoriously battled a demon which had previously defeated the disciples. Then Jesus promised to rise from the dead, invoking imagery of himself as the exalted “Son of Man” figure mentioned in Daniel 7:9–14. The grossly understated takeaway from Mark 9 is that Jesus is a big deal.

When Jesus asks the disciples what they discussed, Mark says they kept silent because “on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest” (9:34). They won’t answer because of shame. They’ve got hands in the cookie jar but reckon that if they slide the jar behind someone’s back, well, maybe Jesus won’t know.

But he knows. He sees the crumbs on the floor and the chocolate on their cheeks. Their petty and myopic argument about worldly greatness is sin, just like when we pastors size each other up at conferences and seminary students view classmates as competitors.

THE INVITATION TO TRUE GREATNESS

Zack Eswine notes in his book The Imperfect Pastor that ambition has a certain “arson” to it. That’s certainly true. But if we read Jesus’s words carefully, we’ll see Jesus doesn’t want to put the fire out. He wants to douse our desire for greatness with gasoline.

You might expect Jesus to issue a harsh rebuke. I mean, he is a prophet, and prophets do that sort of thing from time to time. Instead what they got—and what we get—is patience. He teaches; he instructs; he redefines; and he redirects. We would fire these disciples and hire others. But Jesus loves them. He tells them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” Notice the exact phrasing: “servant of all,” not just servant of the greats, like servant of a famous pastor or a seminary president. His point is that the greatness of our service is enhanced not diminished by the lack of greatness of those we serve.

For us visual learners, Jesus goes on to illustrate his point. He called a child to himself, took the child in his arms, and said to the disciples, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me” (9:37). Jesus implies that greatness is receiving children because they are a specific example of the broader principle of servanthood. In receiving children, Jesus shows us that true greatness—by his definition—is serving, loving, and caring for the needs of people who cannot repay you.

THE REDEMPTION OF GREATNESS

Of course, the disciples don’t get it—not before the cross and resurrection, anyway. As Luke records, even during the last supper with Jesus, this same argument flared among them. “And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he said, ‘Take this, and divide it among yourselves. . . . A dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Luke 22:17, 24).

Christ’s lesson on true greatness didn’t stick. Ultimately we need more than a lesson or an invitation. We need redemption. Our definition of greatness is too corrupt. We all have in us what comedian Brian Regan calls the “me-monster.” I give away 20% of my income. I memorized the book of Ephesians. I have 2,000 Facebook friends. My church had a dozen baptisms last month. I bench press 350 lbs. and run marathons. I . . . I . . . I . . .

Jesus told his disciples, “I am among you as the one who serves” (Luke 22:27). Indeed he was. And his service to sinners leads him to the cross where he dies for our sins, including those we commit pursuing greatness in the eyes of the world. And he redeems our corruption and shows us a better way. If you want to change the world, have the ultimate side-hustle, and be a modern prince of preachers, then by the grace of God be a servant of all.

Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared at the 9Marks blog and is used with permission.