Light to Live By

"The unfolding of your words gives light ..." (Psalm 119:130a)

Category: Pastoral Ministry (Page 7 of 7)

Revival and Theology

October 24, 2011 /

What is the relationship between revival and rich theology? Between a fresh, heaven-sent outpouring of God’s Holy Spirit and doctrinal purity and precision? Between living faith and sound doctrine? Between spiritual experience and Biblical truth?

Some seem to consider the two as polar opposites, working one against the other. If you try to bring the similarly charged ends of two magnets together and if the magnetic charge is not too great, you can intentionally hold the two together. But the moment you release your grip or let your attention wander they spin away from one another in opposite directions, repelled one from the other.

But is this a necessary relationship when it comes to revival and theology? Is this God’s doing? Is this God’s intention? Or is this something we’ve freighted both revival and theology with, something neither was designed to carry?

Paul repeatedly, especially in his later letters, makes a plea for “sound doctrine” (1 Tim. 4:6; 2 Tim. 4:3; Tit. 1:9; 2:1), “sound teaching” (1 Tim. 1:10), and “sound words” (1 Tim. 6:3; 2 Tim. 1:13).

By speaking of “the faithful word” (Tit. 1:9a) the Apostle underscores that fidelity is something essential to the nature of this “word.” But fidelity to what? Paul’s words imply a standing body of recognized truth which calls for loyalty and love, for allegiance and affection.

The trajectory of such logic is precisely correct for Paul says that “the faithful word” is “in accordance with” something he refers to simply as “the teaching” (1:9b). The literal word order of the Greek text is “the according-to-the-teaching faithful word.” The “word” under consideration is the one which jibes with what Paul and the other Apostles have taught (and is given to us by God in the pages of the New Testament). This differentiates it from the content of the false teachers (vv.10-16). Its conformity to the apostolic teaching is what makes this “the faithful word.” It is “faithful” in that it is in conformity to the apostolic teaching. But the adjective “faithful” is also qualifies “word.” Thus “the word” is qualified twice—this is not just any word, but the “faithful” one and that which distinguishes it as “faithful” is that it is “in accordance with the teaching.”

But this all sounds so, what shall we say, bookish? Dead? Sterile? So un-alive!

But this is a false echo, for “sound doctrine,” says Paul, is something that we are to be “nourished ” on (1 Tim. 4:6). That is to say, “sound doctrine” gives life! So revival and theology are not polar opposites after all! Indeed, the word translated “nourished” comes from the realm of parenthood and education. It is what parents strive to achieve in their children and what educators aim to produce in their pupils. They see a better future toward which they long to send their child or pupil, so they nourish them in the truth that will guide them to that future.

Revival will never be achieved by dotting our doctrinal i’s and cross our theological t’s. Church history, if nothing else, has taught us this. Scripture itself holds before us the persnickety Pharisees of Jesus’ day as an example of the deadness of such a pursuit. We cannot define our way into a movement of the Spirit. Let us be clear on this point.

But, with equal energy let us affirm that neither will we be revived by abandoning the diligent, collective, corporate pursuit of truth. Good, solid, Scriptural theology is not an ideal which would be nice to arrive at, but which is pragmatically impossible. As I argue vigorously in Revival in the Rubble, the Bible makes clear that genuine revival is always marked by a return to God’s Word with a ravenous hunger to know what He has said. Church history, I believe, will bear this out as well.

What we seek is truth to which our experience must bow and truth from which our experience must arise.

 


The Ministry vs. The Advance of the Gospel

September 27, 2011 /

I’ve been reflecting of late upon Philippians 1:12: “I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel.”

For several days the Lord has hit my “pause” button over the phrase “to advance the gospel.”

I’m beginning to realize that, while I am called to “the ministry,” so little of my life “in the ministry” makes any direct contribution “to advance the gospel.” I do all kinds of things that qualify as “doing the ministry,” but which contribute little “to advance the gospel.”

Tangentially perhaps. Maybe, via a series of logical connections, an individual might reasonably build a case that most of the things that occupy my time in one way or another “advance the gospel.” But did the Apostle intend for us to expend so much mental effort to justify our labors? Is that what Jesus wants?

The power of what Paul was saying—both for himself and for the Philippians believers to whom he wrote—was that there was a direct connection between his difficult circumstances and the “advance [of] the gospel.” That relationship is, then, the conductor that carries the power of the gospel (Rom. 1:16) not just forward to the unbelieving, but backward to Paul and the Philippian believers, giving them hope, strength, patience and joy to live through the circumstances and embrace them as a meaningful part of their calling.

So from that I have had this thought (and I think it is forming into a conviction) …

For one called as a disciple of Jesus and into His service, the further away from the “advance [of] the Gospel” our activities are, the less satisfying they are, the more draining they become and the more discouraged we become.

So, I review the things that “the ministry” has required of me this week (and its only Tuesday!). I realize I’ve spent most of my time dealing with things that I can make a case for as a necessary part of being “in the ministry.” But it takes some doing to make any valid connection to what they have to do with the “advance [of] the gospel.”

As a sustained experience this produces exhaustion, discouragement and a host of other negative emotions and thoughts.

Lord Jesus, help me to “do the ministry” in a faithful and responsible way before you as the Chief Shepherd and before the flock which you have called me to tend. Please also enable me to ever increasingly give myself to those things which enable the advance of the Gospel. In this way give me energy, strength, faith and joy. I ask this for your glory, amen.

The Pragmatics of Ministry

June 16, 2011 /

The Bible works. The Bible is true. The Bible works precisely because it is true.

But what precisely does that mean? What does the Bible do?

I ask because the fact is there are many, even within the ranks of Evangelicalism today—even among ministry leaders within Evangelicalism today, that doubt this.

The evidence?

The widespread dependence upon other things, rather than the Bible to produce the desired effect of ministry labors. Things such as programs, celebrities, music, staging, choreography, lights, lasers and smoke (yes, I’m serious!), marketing, makeup, organizational structure, etc., etc., etc. To any combination of these add generous seasonings of hype, pizzazz and zest and you’ve manufactured a “move of God.” The crowds will follow.

And in all things change is essential. We have a culturally inbred disdain for anything that we even think might smell of “yesterday.” New sells. Old repels. It is enough to make one wonder about the shelf-life of the things of God. Things like prayer and the Bible.

We are—in a word—pragmatic. Pragmatism is not concerned with whether something is true. Pragmatism asks “Does it work?” It has no time for anything it deems to be theoretical. Philosophizing and dreaming are deemed a waste of time. Just tell me, “Does it get the job done?” Thus the famous line by the TV psychologist: “How’s that working for ya?”

As good 21st Century, North American Christians we take the same basic approach to the things of God. If it doesn’t “work,” we conclude, without a moment’s hesitation or even a nanosecond of reflection, that we need to just move on to the next ministry technique, trend, fad or hot topic. If people aren’t buying the Bible right now, try talking about their needs. If they aren’t interested in gathering for prayer, talk with them about what they are interested in. The hope—latent and under the surface, almost so much so as to be completely forgotten—is that eventually they’d come to like the Bible and be willing to pray.

The concern in all this is: who defines what it means to “work”? Does it mean, as we hear people say, “That just doesn’t work for me”? What do we mean when we say the Bible works? By whose definition? By what standard? On whose timetable?

I am afraid that in all this we forget that we live and labor on an eternal continuum. This is not just something we should do, a perspective we ought to have, but something that is in fact real. Eternity is real. And if it is, the finish line is not where we—bound by and living in time—naturally conclude it to be. So I ask, when is it ever time (in this world) to decide something, defined and demanded by the Bible as unchanging, “doesn’t work”? It may not appear to be effecting the change we long for and, indeed, which God promises—but is that the fault of the Bible or is it possible that the fault resides elsewhere?

If we abandon the Biblical and embrace a time-defined pragmatism in ministry, when are we ever going to be able to say with the Apostle Paul, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Cor. 4:17-18)

Perhaps our contemporary spiritual bankruptcy is because we’ve drawn artificial, time-bound, self-centered timelines by which we decide if something “works.” Maybe things don’t “work” because we’re using them to the wrong ends or are evaluating them along an arbitrary timeline.

Could it be that our preoccupation with self is something to be repented of, rather than something to be cultivated and coddled in marketing our newest ministry strategy. Is it possible that our impatience with the Bible and prayer as “terribly inefficient” betrays the real reason the power of the Scripture doesn’t show up more often in our thoughts, words and actions. Maybe all this “doesn’t work for me,” precisely because we’ve got “me” in the center of everything when the center of center stage is reserved for Someone Else.

The Bible is true. It is for that very reason that it works. The Bible does what it says and performs what it promises. It may not do as I wish. It may not cater to my interpretations. It may not inquire about my deadlines. But it will do just what it says it will do. If that appears not to be true, step back and examine the grid by which you are examining the Bible. Today may be too soon to prove the Bible “works” (for not all is promised to us instantly), but I can assure you that tomorrow will prove the ultimate failure of whatever you may have substituted in its place.

Ministry Through the Lenses of Sanctification

May 7, 2011 /

There is a crisis in pastoral ministry. Recently someone reported that an average of 1,500 pastors leave the ministry each month. This constitutes a crisis of staggering proportions. Yet the crisis is found not merely in the leaving, but in the conditions in which many remain—and in the conditions which remain within themselves.

The issues are legion and the reasons manifold. It seems to me, however, that one powerful component of any answer comes in the matter of how we who are in the ministry view who we are and what we are called to do. What lenses are we to view the ministry through? From what vantage point will I be able to look accurately upon myself and my charges?

I suggest to you that we must being to view pastoral ministry through the lenses of personal sanctification. This is not the norm. It is far more common to view ministry through the lenses of success, organizational leadership, growth, responsibility, personal fulfillment and any number of other ways. We are taught in ways both formal and informal to gaze upon and evaluate ourselves and our ministries from these perspectives. It is not that there is no truth in these. It is not that there is no help in doing so. The problem lies in doing so exclusively—or very nearly so. This has left us in a crisis—a crisis in which a great many of us are not surviving, let alone thriving.

I suggest that we must go back to our theology—specifically our theology of sanctification. We must apply what we say we believe with regard to sanctification to how we view ourselves and our relationship to the people God has put under our care. Another way of saying this is that we must return to the cross. The cross must become real to us again—not just in an eternally saving way, but in a temporally and locally specific way.

The cross is a jewel—the greatest jewel! Three facets of the cross come before our view now. The first is the cross as a provision. It was on the cross that Jesus Christ uniquely, in a once-for-all act of substitution stood in my place, bore my sin and paid my sin-debt. “Christ died for sins once for all” (1 Pet. 3:18a). What He did there cannot be repeated, improved upon or paid back. When it comes to the cross as a provision it is unique and unrepeatable—all we can do is rest in it. The cross as a provision delivers from the penalty of sin. The second facet holds before us the cross as a pattern. Jesus announced, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24). Jesus died for me, that I might never have to die eternally. But it is equally true that Jesus died that I too might die—to sin, to self, to the Law and to the world. The cross as a pattern must be embraced, it must be reproduced in us. The cross as a pattern delivers from the power of sin. But these two facets remain little more than fascinating doctrinal facts unless we shift to see the cross from a third angle—the cross as a participation. This is what Paul meant by his yearning after “the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death” (Phil. 3:10). It is what he intended by “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I do my share on behalf of His body, which is the church, in filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col. 1:24). There was, of course, nothing lacking with regards to Christ’s sufferings and death as a provision. But what Christ suffered to the point of death to fully and perfectly provide, we are now commissioned to take to all for whom He provided it—and to do so always involves suffering. The cross as a participation delivers us from the pointlessness of pain.

The great Apostle survived and thrived in ministry—despite obstacles and challenges that dwarf what most of us go through—precisely because he had come to view ministry through the lenses of sanctification. He embraced the ministry with the cross between him and it. His prize was not “the ministry,” nor even “ministry for Christ,” but Christ Himself! For this reason he could say, “I have been crucified with Christ” (Gal. 2:20a). He could honestly claim, “I die daily” (1 Cor. 15:31). Thus he could demand: “count yourselves dead to sin” (Rom. 6:11a).

This we must do with all of life, but I am thinking at this moment of the fact that we must view the ministry through the lenses of sanctification. Not sanctification as doctrine or theology (though we must always be sure to get our doctrine and theology correct and it must then inform all our thinking); not sanctification as a proposition, postulation or line of reasoning to be tumbled about in the mind. I mean my own personal sanctification.

Pastor, could it be that God called you to the ministry not so you could do great works for Him, achieve great results in His Name, go down in the annals of history as “a great man of God” or so that many more might enter heaven through your service—but precisely and simply because He in His infinite wisdom knew that “the ministry” was the perfect tool by which He might produce your sanctification? Has He called you, not so you can produce for Him, but so that He might produce Christ in you?

Humbling thought, isn’t it?

Surely calling you to the ministry in order to make you like Christ is not the whole of God’s purpose, but it is never less than that purpose. The rest of God’s purpose in calling you to the ministry depends upon you cooperating with Him in this primary purpose of the whole of your Christian life and ministry.

What, may I ask, would change if we began today to view the ministry through the lenses of sanctification? I am sure this is not an exhaustive list and I’m confident some of them overlap one another, but let me suggest some thoughts that come to my mind. If I were to view  ministry through the lenses of my personal sanctification . . .

  1. My focus would change from outward results achieved for Christ to my inward conformity to Christ.
  2. My focus would no longer be on contrarian-people as obstacles to my success, but as aides to my progress in Christlikeness.
  3. My interpretation of the difficulties of ministry would no longer upon the pain they create within me, but upon “the fellowship of His sufferings” (Phil. 3:10) and upon “filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col. 1:24).
  4. My focus would not be on ministry methods or techniques, but on becoming a better man.
  5. My focus would be changed from primarily about doing to more and more about being.
  6. My definition of both success and failure in ministry would be radically altered.
  7. My goals would become more and more inward and upward rather than simply outward.
  8. My vision for ministry would be clarified and simplified.
  9. My ability to focus on the eternal rather than the temporal would be aided greatly.
  10. My enjoyment of ministry would increase dramatically, for now ministry (both the highs and the lows) could be seen as directly contributing to my greatest passion and desire—realizing in experience my union with Christ!

Gracious Father, thank you for calling me to your service. Thank you for doing so with larger and more personally beneficial purposes than I ever realized. Forgive me the pride of assuming my ministry is about what I will do for you and for others rather than what you will do in me, even through others. Grant me the grace to prize Christ above all things—even ministry in His Name. I gladly accept that the greatest grace I will receive in this life is conformity to the character of and sharing in the life of Christ Himself. In His Name I gladly pray, amen.

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