The hardest aspect of pastoral ministry (part three)

by Dan Phillips

In part one I contrasted pastoral ministry with every other "job"; in part two, I raised the stakes, framed the issue in more specifically Biblical terms, and heightened the tension. Here I mean to provide such answers as I have.

But first, a brief disclaimer. Both the first meta and the second contained some excellent responses. Read them! Here I aim to state the central issue, then focus on a couple of specific implications and applications. I will fight the temptation to write a dissertation.

At the risk of incurring my own condemnation of sounding simplistic, the right pastoral frame of mind is found in 2 Corinthians 5:6-10 —

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, 7 for we walk by faith, not by sight. 8 Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9 So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. 10 For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.

This is an orientation Paul shares with all Christians — but with the pastor, it relates more specifically to his life-work than (say) with the trucker or the five-star general.

First, note that Paul explicitly contrasts walking by faith with walking by sight. The essence of walking with God is in the realm of the unseen, not of the visible and tangible. It is the "assurance of things hoped for," and therefore not in present possession; it is "the conviction of things not seen," so not capable of quantification (Hebrews 11:1; cf. Romans 8:24). And remember that, to Paul, faith is not a happy, optimistic feeling he worked up. Rather, it is a wholehearted embrace of an explicit word from God (cf. Romans 1:16; 4:3; 10:17; Colossians 2:7; 2 Timothy 3:14-17).

So: be pleased if you see visible results — but also, be surprised, and don't get attached to them. What we deal with is far greater than what can be seen (2 Corinthians 4:18).

Then note that Paul's overarching, all-controlling aim is to be pleasing to God. He does not aim at popularity, power, or prestige. Paul is radically God-centered in his life, and his ministry is an outflow of that orientation. In fact, pleasing God sometimes would require displeasing men (Galatians 1:10; 2 Timothy 3:12).

Finally, note that the final and ultimate reality standing over and against all is the judgment seat of Christ, which is where Paul's life and ministry will be finally assessed. Only then will Paul's life and ministry come to full review, and receive its final assessment; and the Assessor will be — not Paul, nor the church, nor the world, but — the Lord Jesus Christ.

Put it all together, and this is the picture with which we're left:

1. One must aim above all to please God...
2. ...which can only be done by responding to His Word in obedient faith...
3. ...and which will produce a life and ministry that will only have its final assessment at the judgment seat of Christ.

The pastor, then, is like a pilot who is flying by instruments. He can see nothing out of the window. He can't chart his course by sight nor feel. "I do not even judge myself," Paul says (1 Corinthians 4:3). He has to go by what the instruments tell him. In the pastor's case, the "instruments" are the Word of God. The pastor must beg God's humbling instruction through His Word and commit himself to all of it (1 Timothy 5:21), he must attend constantly to that Word (cf. 2 Timothy 2:7), he must grow in his grasp of (and "graspedness" by) it (1 Timothy 4:15-16) — and he must, in the final analysis, defer the final assessment of his ministry to the judgment of God on that Day (1 Corinthians 4:1-5).

Now, drawing to a close, I'll confess three things to you:

1. This conclusion makes me very uncomfortable
2. But I just have to live with it.
3. And so do you — whichever side of the pulpit you occupy.

It makes me uncomfortable because I have known pastors who, frankly, were jerks. Far worse, and God forgive me, I've been a pastor who was a jerk. I've known pastors who do foolish, selfish, peculiar things, and "play the God-card" to justify it. And here's a humbling fact: many of the things I've done and now regret, I did because that's how I saw the Word at the time. And I'm sure a goodly truckload of you are nodding — more of you, perhaps, in criticism of other pastors than in self-criticism, but some in each category.

However, in the final analysis, I must ask two questions. They are not, "Do you like this?" and "Is this the majority opinion?" No, they are: (1) What does the Word say? and (2) What better system would you propose?

Should a man make full evaluation of his ministry by majority-vote? Should he not make Scripture the map and chart of his priorities in ministry? Should he not look to the judgment seat of Christ as his final court of appeal? I can't think that anyone who knows and believes the Bible would seriously suggest such man-centered, God-sidelining course.

But then I hasten to say that, if a man makes a grasp of all of Scripture his real touchstone, it will leave him open to instruction and correction. What he learns in his study will send him out of his study. Because he will read in that Scripture that "He who trusts in his own heart is a fool" (Proverbs 28:26a), that "The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice" (Proverbs 12:15), and that "Whoever loves instruction loves knowledge, but one who hates correction is stupid" (Proverbs 12:1).

The pastor who takes this counsel to heart will want to please God by being the humble, teachable, wise man who assumes that he still has much to learn and need of growth (Proverbs 9:8b-9). He will avoid becoming the stone-eared fool who is inseparable from his folly (Proverbs 27:22), and who consequently makes the same foolish mistakes over and over and over again (Proverbs 26:11).

In other words, while he will not be the slave of others' opinions, he equally will not be fool enough to consider himself above and beyond the touch of the counsel of wise friends and teachers.

So there you have it. How does the pastor measure success? Not like any human business or employment. The singleminded focus of the pastor must be to please God. But there is only one way he can tell whether he is pleasing God: if he is ministering out of faith and love, and in compliance with the revealed will and priorities and guidelines of God as given in Scripture alone.

Thus doing, you can cherish the prayerful hope that, at the end, you will be able to say in good conscience:

I have fought the good fight,
I have finished the race,
I have kept the faith.
Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness,
which the Lord, the righteous judge,
will award to me on that Day,
and not only to me
but also to all who have loved his appearing.
(2 Timothy 4:7-8)

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The hardest aspect of pastoral ministry (part two)

by Dan Phillips

In part one, I laid out the single aspect of pastoral ministry that sets it apart from every other employment a human being can set his hand to: a pastor cannot infallibly measure his success by the visible fruits of his labor.

Some of the comments in the meta (which I commend to you) were so good that it's tempting simply to edit them together as a response. However, one or two still tended in the simplistic, "I-don't-see-what-your-issue-is" direction. So let me try to flesh it out a bit, and give more Biblical background.

The dilemma was expressed poignantly by Ligon Duncan at this year's outstanding Together for the Gospel conference. It was during a discussion after a message and, Herodotus-like, I'll give you a compressed summary:

If you go to a car factory, you might see all this disparate little pieces assembled one by one. And then, at the end — you have a car. It's done! Or even if you do something as insignificant as mowing a lawn, at the end, you can look back — and the lawn is mown. You see it. You're done.

But you can never say that in pastoral ministry. Ever!

And then Ligon put it this way: "Pastors are always wanting to get that interim report card."

He had put it so poignantly that it resonated deeply with me, and brought tears to my eyes. I doubt I was the only one in the room thus affected. Ligon phrased it perfectly, summed up the most trying aspect of pastoral ministry: insofar as you're a tender-hearted, God-centered pastor at all, you're desperate to know if you're pleasing Him, desperate to find some way of telling — now! — what you're going to hear when your ministry stands in review.

But there is no interim report-card. Not really.

If there were, what would it be? What is the visible, right-now, infallible indicator? Businesses have used the phrase, "How are we doing?" Every God-honoring pastor would like to be able to ask the Lord, "How am I doing?"

How could we tell? By numbers? If so, then Joel Osteen is a God-blessed success. Robert Schuller, Benny Hinn, Bishop Arius, Pelagius, Joseph Smith, Charles Finney, Harry Emerson Fosdick, every pope, Mohammed, Buddha — all of them have God's seal of approval, if numbers tell the tale.

And conversely, Jeremiah was a failure. Isaiah was a failure. Elijah was a failure. Moses was a failure. Paul failed in Lystra, and at other times. And, what's more, by that mark (I speak as a fool), Jesus was a failure, more than once. Edwards and Machen and Athanasius in their lifetimes experienced failure, at the points we (in retrospect) count them as most successful for the Kingdom.

But, if large numbers are no sure sign, then are small crowds, by contrast, proof of faithfulness, and large crowds just proof of the converse? Then Whitefield was a failure, Spurgeon was a failure; Piper is a failure, McArthur is a failure.

If outward signs are unreliable — and they surely are — can we tell how well we please God, by using internal indicators? Will He give us a reliable sense of success, a feeling that we are pleasing Him? Do we get that "interim report card" in our hearts, our souls?

If so, that sense was denied (at one time or another) to Jeremiah, to Asaph, to David.

I think we have to admit it: there is no single, analogous, infallible advance-indicator of pastoral success, externally or internally.

And yet pastoral ministry is vital, indispensable, essential, God-conceived, God-given, God-required, God-ordained, God-centered, and God-evaluated. We can't shrug off the question.

What's more, if you're worth anything as a pastor, you care. You care a lot. It isn't of distant or academic interest, because this isn't a hobby. It's your life, and you know that its echoes sound out into eternity.

What's more, if you're married and have children, the course of your ministry does not only affect you. It affects the dearest woman in your world, and the dearest children in your world, all of whose lives are indissolubly bound up with you.

If you — for the sake of argument, and to be blunt, simple and bottom-line — take a Biblically-necessary, God-honoring stand that alienates the people who pay your salary; if you see numbers steadily dwindle; if you see bills pile up; if you see yourself eventually forced to move... what kind of jerk could just shrug dispassionately and say, "Oh, well. Long as I'm being faithful" — and not care? It's your wife whose lot in life is bound up with yours. It's your children who have to uproot their lives, lose all their friends and familiar surroundings, and wander off where you wander.

If you mess up, they get messed up.

It matters!

So what's a pastor to do?

Next time, Lord willing, such as I have will be yours, in short form.

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The hardest aspect of pastoral ministry (part one)

by Dan Phillips

You'll not be surprised to learn that pastoral ministry has been on my mind for, well — okay, pretty much for my whole Christian life. In the doing of it, ere long I ran smack into what I think is hardest about pastoral ministry.

It certainly wasn't what you might think, or what I would have thought. It wasn't learning Greek or even Hebrew, or any of the Biblical or homiletical sciences; it wasn't learning the mechanics of candidating or interviewing or counseling or administrating; it wasn't preparing as many as four different messages a week; it wasn't maintaining a relationship with Christ or a holy walk. It wasn't earning degrees, or anything associated therewith.

It was the very nature of the work, in the specific aspect that sets it apart from every other "job."

Let's sidle up to that aspect.

Right now, I'm doing IT support. How do I know if I'm doing it well? Simple: I am doing well if I treat my callers decently and their problems gets resolved. Period. When the need has been met, I've succeeded.

How does a cook know he's doing well? If diners enjoy his meals, and come back for more. How does a farmer know he's doing well? If crops grow to harvest. How does a car mechanic know if he's doing well? If he succeeds in getting cars running as they should.

And how does any business measure its success? When it has enough people coming for its services and paying its prices to keep the business profitable. Simple. If this isn't happening, the smart owner finds out why, and fixes it. Location? Staff? Pricing? Advertising? Product? If it isn't what the public wants, you must change it, or perish.

I could go on, and quibblers could quibble, but I think you get the main, undeniable point: every human endeavor has ways to measure success right now (or shortly), and has an identifiable and quantifiable goal.

Every human endeavor, that is, except pastoral ministry. (Stay with me; you'll eventually see application for all Christians, though particularly so for pastors.)

Suppose a pastor preaches the Biblical Gospel with all his Spirit-enabled might, and not one unbelieving hearer comes to repentant faith. Ever. Has he failed? Or succeeded? How can he know?

Suppose a pastor patiently and thoroughly teaches Biblical doctrine(s), and a great majority of his congregation reject, or don't even think about what they've been shown from Scripture. Has he failed? Or succeeded? How can he know?

Suppose attendance in a pastor's church grows steadily. Has he failed? Or succeeded? How can he know?

Suppose attendance in a pastor's church declines steadily. Has he failed? Or succeeded? How can he know?

Suppose a pastor Biblically counsels a couple with a troubled marriage, and they divorce. Has he failed? Or succeeded? How can he know?

Suppose a pastor preaches his Biblical convictions and people (attenders or even colleagues) turn on him. Has he failed? Or succeeded? How can he know?

Think about that a bit, chat it over, and I'll develop the tension in more specifically Biblical terms in the next post, Lord willing. Then, in the third, I'll provide such answers as I have.

But I give you fair warning: I'm not particularly sanguine about simplistic, clichéd instant-answers and snappy formulas from idle theorists.

(As a hint, if you find yourself tempted to use the word "just" [as in, "I think a pastor just has to..."], do yourself a favor, and just don't.)

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Transparency: ...the bad and the downright ugly (Part 3 of 3)

by Dan Phillips

The purpose of godly transparency. In the previous post I quoted Spurgeon as saying, "I am the subject of depressions of spirit so fearful that I hope none of you ever get to such extremes of wretchedness as I go to." This quotation is justly well-known and oft-quoted (though seldom-sourced).

However, I'm not sure I've ever seen the thought reproduced in full:

I am the subject of depressions of spirit so fearful that I hope none of you ever get to such extremes of wretchedness as I go to, but I always get back again by this-I know I trust Christ. I have no reliance but in him, and if he falls I shall fall with him, but if he does not, I shall not. Because he lives, I shall live also, and I spring to my legs again and fight with my depressions of spirit and my down castings, and get the victory through it; and so may you do, and so you must, for there is no other way of escaping from it. In your most depressed seasons you are to get joy and peace through believing.

Spurgeon's purpose in alluding to his depressions was not to talk about himself. He wasn't out to make himself feel better about himself. These were not exercises in venting, nor personal therapy. Rather, the pastor was offering a point of contact to his hearers, by which to turn both himself and them to Christ. You might diagram it something like this:

• Are you subject to depression?
• I too am subject to depression — fearful depression!
• Even in such depression, I find I can and must turn to the sufficient Christ for life and joy
  
• ...and so can you, and so must you!

The Christian does not give himself leave from the two great commandments: the imperative of love for God, and for man (Matthew 22:36-40). "Honesty," "candor," "authenticity," or "transparency" — none of these is an abbreviation for "God gave me a pass from the two chief moral imperatives of the universe."

Example #1: Take as a positive example David, as he was wrestling with doubt and fear. He said, "I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will guard my mouth with a muzzle, so long as the wicked are in my presence" (Psalm 39:1). So he was "mute and silent," and held his peace even as his distress worsened (vv. 2ff.). David did not want to give a tool to the "wicked," with which they could further mock God and damn their own souls, and further waylay those they influenced. God forbid that he give occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme.

Example #2: Asaph sets another example. He found himself twisted in a knot by the age-old problem of the prosperity of the wicked (Psalm 73). He was undergoing daily discipline, and living a Godward life (vv. 13-14) — but the godless were living the high life. Asaph was positively envious of them (v. 2).

Now, at that time and in the grips of this worldly envy, Asaph could have been "transparent." He could have brought his great eloquence to play in regaling his hearers with his frustrations, his desires, his disappointments. He could have painted a comic picture of his pious friends who were still walking the walk. He could have salved his conscience by mocking them, and gathering around himself a group of similarly disaffected wits. He could have been their hero.

But how did Asaph see it?

If I had said, "I will speak thus,"
I would have betrayed the generation of your children
(Psalm 73:15)

"Betrayed." Not "served."

It wasn't that Asaph was dishonest; he simply was still a worshiper of Yahweh. Even in the grips of such emotional turmoil, he saw this sort of "transparency" for what it was: an act of betrayal, an act of treachery against Yahweh and His children. So far from being noble and fine, Asaph knew it would be low and faithless. Self-serving, other-destroying.

The risks of "transparency." This is my cautionary note. To too many, "transparency" is all about them. It is an act of therapy, neither of worship nor service. It is self-indulgence.

By the way, God knows I'm not speaking cuttingly of them as if I'm untemptable. I once ran a post past my dear wife and, God love her, she told me frankly that it tended to that direction. I killed it; you never saw it.

The sorts I have in mind do not so much confess their weaknesses as revel in them, celebrate them, rationalize them. They aren't struggling to overcome the passions of the flesh; they're struggling to overcome the guilt (and stigma) of embracing those passions. It isn't about pointing fellow-strugglers to the Christ of Scripture; it's about making themselves feel better about their own defection from Him.

And so, like Absalom, they gather about themselves disgruntled men and women who start as admirers and stay as enablers. Questions become doubts, doubts become mockery, mockery becomes open rebellion. Helping neither the "sharer" nor themselves, they perpetuate a cycle of straying. Their disclosures are no giving, serving acts of love. No, they are whining, boasting, grasping excesses of sheer self-gratification.

In the quest for self-help, nobody gets help.

So pastors (to return to that) will do well to test ourselves. Our disclosures — what are they about? What is the subtext? Are they about making us look ____ — real, humble, authentic, tough, earthy, worldly? Pathetic, pitiable, needy?

The sorts of openness we celebrated in the first two posts were clear in both their intent and effect. The design in those cases is to share the consolation received by God with those who need it (cf. 2 Corinthians 1:4-7). It is about dealing gently with those similarly afflicted (cf. Hebrews 5:2). It is about tenderly urging the faint to draw new strength and get back on the path (Hebrews 12:12-13), to be strong in the grace of the Lord (2 Timothy 2:1), to draw near to the Lord for needed help and mercy (Hebrews 4:14-16).

And so, as so often, we're left in a tension twixt two extremes:

• The man so arrogant that he can never admit to human weakness, no matter who that admission might serve
  
• The man so self-absorbed that he publicly revels in his failings, and may the consequences to the honor of God and the good of his neighbor be damned

The best kind of transparency is the sort through which people can look and see — not ourselves, but — the Lord.

And so we end where we began: at 2 Corinthians 4:5.

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Previous posts:

Transparency: the good... (part 1 of 3)
Transparency: ...and more good... (part 2 of 3)

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Transparency: ...and more good... (part 2 of 3)

by Dan Phillips

In the Transparency: the good... (part 1 of 3) we saw that God entrusted the proclamation of Jesus Christ as Lord to actual human beings and not to steel automata. He did this for a reason. The Biblical writers were equally candid about their wayward weaknesses and their Godward zeal.

Though we focused on Paul, we could easily do a lengthy series on the humanity of Moses, of Elijah, of Elisha; of Mark, of Peter, of Timothy. But I trust the premise is sufficiently laid to do a little building.

Such candor did not cease with "tongues." We see it in Augustine's Confessions among the earlier church fathers; we see it in spades in Martin Luther, who not only boldly expressed his faith, but openly admitted his fears and weaknesses.

In fact, in his very readable (but maddeningly under-documented) book Walking with the Giants (Baker: 1976), Warren Wiersbe devotes a chapter to the topic "The Minister and Discouragement." Some of the big names who were familiar with dark times as well as bright included Alexander White, John Henry Jowett, Andrew Bonar, and G. Campbell Morgan.

The great Charles Spurgeon was particularly open about his own weakness. "I am the subject of depressions of spirit so fearful that I hope none of you ever get to such extremes of wretchedness as I go to," he said in a sermon titled "Joy and Peace in Believing" (1866). He meant it, too. This isn't hyperbole. An entire chapter of his Lectures to My Students is whimsically titled "The Minister's Fainting Fits." It is devoted to the reality of discouragement and depression in pastoral ministry. Towards the start, Spurgeon explains his purpose in being so open:

Knowing by most painful experience what deep depression of spirit means, being visited therewith at seasons by no means few or far between, I thought it might be consolatory to some of my brethren if I gave my thoughts thereon, that younger men might not fancy that some strange thing had happened to them when they became for a season possessed by melancholy; and that sadder men might know that one upon whom the sun has shone right joyously did not always walk in the light

Spurgeon knew that his students would look up to him, and be tempted to think more highly of him than they ought. Rather than accepting that (in service of his pride), Spurgeon exposed his inclination to melancholy (in the service of their lasting good).

Elsewhere Spurgeon suggests a reason why servants such as he are subjected to such times of darkness. In the chapter "How to Meet the Evils of the Age" from An All-round Ministry, Spurgeon asks —

Is not this the reason why God’s servants are made to pass through so many trials, that they may really learn many truths not otherwise to be apprehended? Do we learn much in sunny weather? Do we not profit most in stormy times? Have you not found it so — that your sick-bed — your bereavement — your depression of spirit, has instructed you in many matters which tranquillity and delight have never whispered to you? I suppose we ought: to learn as much by joy as by sorrow, and I hope that many of my Lord’s better servants do so; but, alas! others of us do not; affliction has to be called in to whip the lesson into us.

Such seasons are no less essential pastoral training than Hebrew or Greek. Like the high priest, the pastor should be able to "deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is beset with weakness" (Hebrews 5:2). And so, having received his "whippings," Spurgeon is eager to turn them to his people's profit. His motivation was also Paul's, who observed that...

...the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 4 ...comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 5 For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. 6 If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer (2 Corinthians 1:3-6)

We lesser mortals take courage to know that even those we look up to as the "greats" have also gone through great discouragement and darkness. It is as Pilgrim thought, when he walked in the darksome valley and heard a voice before him saying "Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me" (Psalm 23:4). He took courage, "Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in this valley as well as himself."

This has been an important factor to me throughout my Christian life and ministry. I think of one man, who I've never yet heard to give an illustration of which he is other than the hero, and others the fools. He's informed me, but seldom been an encouragement to me. But Spurgeon has been my friend and counselor, for the very reason of his equally vivid candid admission of personal weakness, and his robust boasting of the greatness of Christ, and His riches of grace and mercy — mercy of which I know Spurgeon himself drunk deeply.

Now, some theoretician, on learning that Spurgeon was inclined to melancholy, might have advised him to avoid ministry. But this counsel would not have reflected Scripture, which clearly reveals that men of differing temperaments are used by God. The servant's very humanity is the anchor-point in pointing other humans to Deity.

Even as I learned much from J. I. Packer, I was helped by his admission of the shipwreck that holiness teaching nearly brought him to, and how John Owen saved his sanity. Or his humble preface to the study guide for Knowing God: "As fools long to play Hamlet, so I have longed to write a book of theology. This, however, is not it" (from memory).

It struck me again at the Together for the Gospel conference this year, during the conversations these evangelical leaders held for our benefit. In one in particular, these great men — R. C. Sproul, Al Mohler, Ligon Duncan — all were agreeing about how often they'll preach a sermon, and feel that it was an abject, colossal, thudding failure. They admitted that they will slink to the back of the church, almost dreading to hear what anyone will say.

I'm sure I wasn't the only preacher in the room who thought — "You? You've felt this? Even you?" Followed by: "Well, then, maybe there's hope!"

(Then they added the same I've found: that those are often the sermons the Lord chooses to use most graciously. The fancy ones? Not so much.)

Or then again Ligon Duncan, with great feeling, spoke about how he's enjoyed watching a car assembled from all the disparate parts. Then it's done, it's complete — which never happens in a pastor's ministry! Never! The pastor is never done, can never see his completed work, never sees the finished product. "We always want to see that interim report card," Duncan said. Hearing this successful, fruitful, blessed man speaking my own heart so eloquently stirred me deeply.

And it encouraged me. It turned me to Christ. That is the positive effect of godly transparency, as I've been fumbling to sketch it.

But before this sketch is done, such as it is, I'll have to break out the charcoal and draw some dark lines of caution.

In the next post.

Update: Part Three.

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Transparency: the good... (part 1 of 3)

by Dan Phillips

Paul said, forcefully and well, "what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake" (2 Corinthians 4:5). Insofar as we — preachers or "lay" witnesses — are faithful ambassadors, we want to hold out Jesus Christ. Not ourselves. We want to point people to Jesus, want them to believe and love and cling to Him. Not us.

Having said that, do you identify with Paul in any way? Does he read like a writing mannequin to you? Or does what Paul says resonate with you, does it have credibility to you? Is his call to "press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:14) compelling to you? If so, why is that?

Of course it is compelling because he is an apostle, a plenipotentiary of Christ, speaking in His name and with His authority (1 Corinthians 14:37). That is true objectively, and regardless of how we feel about Paul.

But God could have solely entrusted the Gospel to be proclaimed flawlessly by bloodless angels. He could have dropped heavenly newspapers out of the sky. He did neither. Rather, He gave the surpassing treasure to be borne in clay pots (2 Corinthians 4:7).

I take it that He had, and has, a reason.

UPDATE: after posting this I came across a passage in Spurgeon's Lectures to My Students where he makes this point, but with far greater eloquence:

Disembodied spirits might have been sent to proclaim the word, but they could not have entered into the feelings of those who, being in this body, do groan, being burdened; angels might have been ordained evangelists, but their celestial attributes would have disqualified them from having compassion on the ignorant; men of marble might have been fashioned, but their impassive natures would have been a sarcasm upon our feebleness, and a mockery of our wants. Men, and men subject to human passions, the all-wise God has chosen to be his vessels of grace; hence these tears, hence these perplexities and castings down.

Part of why Paul's writings resonate with me no doubt is because of his transparency. Nowhere does Paul hold himself out as a plaster saint, free from the weakness and failings we lesser mortals know.

He's bluntly candid about his past, mincing no words: "formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent" (1 Timothy 1:13), who "persecuted the church of God violently and tried to destroy it" (Galatians 1:13), and was "once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another" (Titus 3:3).

But he was no less candid about his post-conversion life, in all its chiaroscuro. Though good men have labored long and hard to undo his consistent use of 1spai (first-person singular, present active indicative), Paul boldly paints himself as struggling with the weakness and waywardness of his flesh (Romans 7:14-25). In the same way he says "I myself am" — not "I was" — the first among sinners (εἰμι ἐγώ; 1 Timothy 1:15). The great apostle admits to "fighting without and fear within" (2 Corinthians 7:5), to being depressed (v. 6) and in need of encouragement (2 Corinthians 1:4), to being occasionally "pressured in every way... perplexed... persecuted ... [and] struck down" (2 Corinthians 4:8-9 CSB).

I identify with this. I read Paul as a real person, a man not unfamiliar — at least, categorically, if not specifically — with the weaknesses and temptations and fears and misgivings with which I myself wrestle.

And so, when Paul calls me to think the way he does (Philippians 3:15) in stretching out with all his might in the pursuit of God's high call in Christ, I hear him: not as a mere theoretician (2 Corinthians 2:11), nor as a sheer authoritarian (2 Corinthians 1:24), but as a real human being who himself had been transformed, and was being transformed, by Christ. Someone who (like me) is most insistently not "arrived" (Philippians 3:13), but who nonetheless is dogged and undeterrable in pressing on towards that goal, for all he's worth (Philippians 3:7-16).

In this, Paul is like many inspired writers, who are equally transparent in how they write. We think immediately of David (Pss. 3, 5, 6, 13 etc.), Isaiah (6:5), and Jeremiah (20:7-18).

We know that these are actual, real men, and not superhuman Louis L'Amour heroes. We see that God truly can be known and served meaningfully even by the imperfect; and that bitter failure or times of darkness are no sure signs that we have no hope before and with God.

But there are dangers as well as uses to transparency, aren't there? It can be used, surely; but can it be abused?

Indeed it can be, and has been.

In the next post, I intend to continue to develop positively the uses of transparency, and the consequences of its lack. (That post will display how this is a "T4G 2008 reflection.") The third post is to note dangers and abuses.

Updates: Part Two; and Part Three.

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Substitutionary atonement and Proverbs (part 2 of 2)

by Dan Phillips

In the first installment, O Pyrophilus, I sketched out the course a Christian reader must take in harvesting the full, Divinely-intended value from the Old Testament. One must neither improve the text by inserting ideas inaccessibly alien to its human authors or readers, nor rob the text through denial of God's intended meaning.

I set as a challenging example the doctrine of penal, substitutionary atonement as pointed to by the book of Proverbs. The first of two signposts I found there was the frequent use of "Yahweh," the name of Israel's God, who must be approached by faith on the basis of penal, substitutionary atonement. To name Yahweh in the text of the OT is to name the God of penal, substitutionary atonement.

The second signpost

The second signpost I see is in Proverbs 17:15 —

He who justifies the wicked and he who condemns the righteous
are both alike an abomination to the LORD.

At first blush, the intent of this text is plain: it sets the standard for forensic justice in the deportment of judges. Yahweh intends strict justice to be carried out. The judge may neither turn a blind eye to wrongs committed, nor falsely impute wrongs or crimes to the innocent, for the (Exodus 23:6-8; Deuteronomy 16:18-20; 25:1; Proverbs 17:26; 24:24).

Failure to uphold justice in court was one of the crimes for which Yahweh indicted and punished Israel (Isaiah 5:7, 20; 10:1-2; Amos 5:7, 12-15; Micah 3:9-11; Malachi 2:17, etc.).

What does any of that have to do with penal, substitutionary atonement?

So glad you asked!

The problem...

It is a Biblical fact — not merely a NT fact — that all men are sinners by nature and by choice. Adam and Eve sinned and died spiritually (Genesis 2—3); and their children were conceived and born bearing that same broken, corrupted nature (Genesis 5:3). They still bear God's image, but that image is warped by a propensity to sin. God's universal assessment of mankind is not favorable (Genesis 6:5). David's depiction of mankind is similarly unsparing and stark (Psalm 53:1-3). And Solomon, author of Proverbs, echoes this same viewpoint: "there is no one who does not sin" (1 Kings 8:46). In fact, in that very book, he rhetorically asks, "Who can say, 'I have made my heart pure; I am clean from my sin'?" (Proverbs 20:9). Clearly the answer expected is, "No man."

"No man"? No man. "Including, say, Abram?" Yes, of course: that would have to include Abram.

Uh-oh. In that case, we have a problem.

The problem is Genesis 15:6, where we read that Abram "believed [Yahweh], and he counted it to him as righteousness." Abram — wicked, sinful Abram — was counted righteous, when he believed Yahweh.

Yahweh justified the wicked — the very thing that Proverbs 17:15 says is an abomination to Yahweh. How can this be? Did Yahweh Himself do what was abominable in His own eyes?

Here is where taking an approach that respects the whole text of Scripture makes an immense difference.

In the short(er) run we know that Moses, who penned the problematic Genesis 15:6, was aware of the fundamental principle of Leviticus 17:11 — "For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I [Yahweh] have given it for you on the altar to make atonement for your souls, for it is the blood that makes atonement by the life." Moses knew that atonement for sin, for sins, for sins such as Abram's, can only be made by the shedding of blood. He knows that Abram had offered sacrifices (Genesis 12:7-8; 13:4, 18), and that Yahweh Himself had made bloody sacrifice on formalizing His covenant with Abram (chapter 15).

Yet there is a tension within the OT itself on the subject of sacrifice. For one thing, the sacrifices themselves had no transformative power, and so many writers deride individuals who looked on them as if they were magical box-checking, formalistic remedies for their unrepented moral crimes (Isaiah 66:3; Jeremiah 11:15). Solomon himself brought scorching barrages to bear on anyone who viewed sacrifice as being an externalistic "fix" for an unrepentant, unbelieving heart (Proverbs 15:8; 21:27).

Beyond all that there is the fact that, even in the case of those with repentant faith, the sacrifices had to be repeated over and over and over. The Day of Atonement occurred year in and year out, again and again. In expressing this, none can surpass the eloquence of Apoll... er, the writer of Hebrews, when he says:

For since the law has but a shadow of the good things to come instead of the true form of these realities, it can never, by the same sacrifices that are continually offered every year, make perfect those who draw near. 2 Otherwise, would they not have ceased to be offered, since the worshipers, having once been cleansed, would no longer have any consciousness of sins? 3 But in these sacrifices there is a reminder of sins every year. 4 For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins. (Hebrews 10:1-4)

Trace it out, then:

1. God does in fact declare the wicked righteous
2. He declares the wicked righteous through faith
3. He declares the wicked righteous on the basis of penal, substitutionary atonement that deals with their sins and His just wrath...
   
4. ...But the atonement provided within the OT itself was imperfect and insufficient.

This was the state of affairs under which Solomon wrote Proverbs 17:15.

The tension, then, is not resolved within the OT. It is only moved forward.

However, the whole OT itself does contain within itself signposts to the ultimate and satisfying resolution of this awesome dilemma.

....and the promise

A major prophetic promise comes in a book which, ironically, begins (in part) by a thunderous and devastating denunciation of Israel's abuse of ritual and sacrifice to cover over their unbelieving lives (Isaiah 1:10-15). Yet I've long envisioned a contemporary of Isaiah's reading those words and thinking, "Yahweh doesn't want sacrifice? What does that leave us?"

Yahweh's ultimate and final answer is given in the jaw-dropping prophetic revelation of Isaiah 52:13 — 53:12. Though this isn't the place for a lengthy exposition, one can readily see the sacrificial imagery throughout this oracle. Isaiah depicts this human being, this Servant of Yahweh — who clearly is not Israel idealized nor otherwise (cf. v. 8, and the repeated contrasts of the one vs. the many, the we and the Him) — offering Himself up to bear the wrath of God for sins not His own, but His people's. This individual, Himself righteous (v. 11), dying as a penal, substitutionary sacrifice for the ungodly and wicked (cf. vv. 4-10).

The pivot, in connection with Proverbs 17:15, is found in Isaiah 53:11 — "Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities."

There it is:

• Many sinners...
• ...will be accounted righteous
• ...on the basis of the perfect and final penal, substitutionary atonement that the Servant of Yahweh would provide.

Note: we have seen all this without citing one verse about Jesus from the New Testament.

But it all makes the greatest sense of Paul's argument in Romans. Once again, on the face of it, these two verses stand in stark and obvious contradiction:

He who justifies the wicked and he who condemns the righteous
are both alike an abomination to the LORD (Proverbs 17:15)

And to the one who does not work but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness... (Romans 4:5)

Yet final and ultimate reconciliation is found in the penal substitutionary atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ. Paul opens this up in Romans 3:25-26, which speaks of Jesus Christ —

...whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. 26 It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just [δίκαιον, dikaion — righteous] and the justifier [δικαιοῦντα, dikaiounta — the one who declares righteous] of the one who has faith in Jesus.

Jesus Christ is God's ἱλαστήριον [hilastērion], the sacrifice that absorbs and deflects His just wrath. His blood deals with our sin; our sin is imputed to Him, and His righteousness is imputed to us. In this way and in this way alone, God can be righteous, and declare wicked Abram righteous through faith alone. He can be righteous, and declare wicked Paul righteous through faith alone.

And He can be righteous, and declare wicked you, and wicked me, righteous through faith alone, by grace alone, on the basis of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ alone.

And so you see, the principle of Proverbs 17:15 is the key to the necessity of penal, substitutionary atonement

1. If God, with no cause nor reason, pronounces guilty people righteous, then He violates His own principle of justice, and un-Gods Himself. However,
   
2. If God imputes our sin to Christ, and imputes Christ’s righteousness to us, with Christ making full atonement for our sin, then is He just and the justifier of believers
   

It was well that Thomas Watson called redemption “the masterpiece of divine wisdom.” Watson envisions the counsels of eternity thus:

God’s mercy looked at us in our miserable and helpless estate, but how to do it without wronging the justice of God? It is a pity, says Mercy, that such a noble creature as man should be made to be undone; and yet God’s justice must not be a loser. What way then shall be found out? Angels cannot satisfy for the wrong done to God’s justice, nor is it fit that one nature should sin, and another nature suffer. What then? Shall man be for ever lost? Now, while Mercy was thus debating with itself, what to do for the recover of fallen man, the Wisdom of God stepped in; and thus the oracle spake: —Let God become man; let the Second Person in the Trinity be incarnate, and suffer; and so for fitness he shall be man, and for ability he shall be God; thus justice may be satisfied, and man saved. O the depth of the riches of the wisdom of God, thus to make justice and mercy to kiss each other! (Thomas Watson, Body of Divinity [Baker: 1979 (reprint of 1890 ed.)], 51.)

Amen!

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Substitutionary atonement and Proverbs (part 1 of 2)

by Dan Phillips

Sail carefully

In approaching the Old Testament believingly, two extremes must be avoided.

Off to the left looms the Scylla of atomization. Each part of the Bible is treated as a standalone, an historical artifact written virtually without reference to any other part. If the human author is allowed some awareness of previous revelation, no greater purpose — no metanarrative — is seen as useful (let alone determinative) in interpretation.

The problem with this approach is that it, in effect, rejects the Bible's self-description as a unified and organic revelation, in which the parts are best understood when set within the whole (e.g. Matthew 22:29; Mark 12:24; Luke 24:44-48; John 7:42; 20:9; 1 Timothy 5:18; Hebrews 1:1-2, etc.).

The unity of the Bible is not only a significant fact for doctrine, but for interpretation as well.

Equally, off to the right is the jutting Charybdis of a false Christianization of the Old Testament.

Note: I am not saying that reading the Bible as a Christian book is false. Indeed, I think it false to read it any other way (though what I mean by that would require expansion beyond the purpose of this post). However, the ultimacy of Christ does not cancel out the relevance of each chapter of revelation within and to its own context.

We commit this error when we neglect the fact that the God who finally spoke "to us by his Son" had previously spoken "to our fathers by the prophets" (Hebrews 1:1-2). We effectively deny this fact if we take, as our primary interpretation of any passage, a meaning that the passage could not possibly have had either to the writer nor the readers. If God spoke hopelessly over the heads of both His prophets and His hearers/readers, you couldn't say that He spoke "to our fathers," and you couldn't call what He did "communication." It doesn't honor God to depict Him as, in effect, running the ultimate shell-game.

Having said that: the approach that is (I think) truest to the whole picture of revelation must suggest meanings that would make sense to the original writers/readers, and relate to the ultimate Big Picture that lay in the mind of God.

As an illustration, let's take the doctrine of the substitutionary atonement as it relates to the book of Proverbs.

"This should be interesting," some of you will doubtless say, "— since there is no doctrine of substitutionary atonement in Proverbs!" At one point, that would also have been pretty much the entirety of my own reaction.

I'd certainty agree that no one could build an entire doctrine of the atonement from Proverbs. But I'd also hasten to insist that no one should build an entire doctrine of the atonement from any single book of the Bible, including Romans and Galatians.

However, I do think that Proverbs contains at least two signposts that, in the context of the whole Canon, point us in the direction of the canonical doctrine of penal, substitutionary atonement.

Let me illustrate, then, by expanding a portion of a sermon I recently preached to the good folks at Calvary Community Church in Louisville, TN.

First signpost: "Yahweh"

The first signpost is broadly missed, or undervalued, for a couple of reasons.

First, nobody's helped by the stupid translators' trick of hiding "Yahweh" behind "LORD" and "GOD." We are so overdue for some head of a translation committee to look his fellow-scholars in the eye and say, "Brothers... why do we even do this anymore? We all know it's wrong, none of us can really make sense out of it. The more that people know, the lamer the 'explanations' in our forwards are sounding — so seriously, let's ditch that whole embarrassing LORD / Lord GOD thing, and let the text say 'Yahweh.'" And then everyone else on the committee needs to vote a hearty "Aye," stop baffling generations of Bible-readers, and start making up for lost time.

If this issue doesn't resonate with you, then try this: imagine that every occurrence of "Jesus" in the NT were replaced with "the Teacher" or "the Lord," because some group of unbelievers has a superstition about even saying His name. Maybe then the point will begin to stand out more starkly to you.

Second, because of this, too few reflect sufficiently on the significance of the fact that the living God of the Bible has a personal name, and that this means something. All sorts of religions talk about at least one "lord" and/or "god," so we don't stop to think when we see "LORD" in the text.

But we really should. Especially we plenary, verbal inspiration-types.

Actually, Proverbs is rather remarkable in this regard. Proverbs is different from much of the Old Testament in terms of the mode of revelation. Here we don't see oracles of Yahweh, or "thus says Yahweh," as in other books. Instead, this kind of "wisdom" literature is seen in other contemporary (and older) cultures, and the sage's laboratory is the world of observation and reflection.

We see this in Proverbs 24:30-34 —

I passed by the field of a sluggard,
by the vineyard of a man lacking sense,
31 and behold, it was all overgrown with thorns;
the ground was covered with nettles,
and its stone wall was broken down.
32 Then I saw and considered it;
I looked and received instruction.
33 A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest,
34 and poverty will come upon you like a robber,
and want like an armed man.

Verse 32 might be rendered a bit more literally: “Then I myself gazed, I applied my mind, I saw, I received an education.” The insight of revelation comes not from a vision or a voice, but through observation and reflection.

Now, given the nature of wisdom literature, and given its provenance in the world of nature and society, what name of God might you guess would dominate: the more generic, general-revelation name "God"? Or the very specific, special-revelation, Israelitish name "Yahweh"? I would have guessed the former.

I would have been wrong.

In fact, whereas words translated "God" occur only about eight times in Proverbs, the name "Yahweh" occurs eighty-seven times -- about the same proportion as the (very Yahwistic) book of Deuteronomy (cf. Bruce Waltke, "The Book of Proverbs and Old Testament Theology." Bibliotheca Sacra, 136, No. 544 [1979], p. 305).

"What," you ask, patience finally waning, "does the prevalence of the name 'Yahweh' have to do with substitutionary atonement?"

What kind of God is Yahweh?

I would make the argument that Yahweh is by definition the God of penal, substitutionary atonement. Without repeating works such as Leon Morris' well-nigh epochal The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, the worship of Yahweh prominently featured substitutionary atonement from its very first breaths.

Consider: Adam and Eve sinned, and Yahweh immediately informs them that a Seed of the woman (!) would defeat the serpent through bloody suffering (Genesis 3:15; snake-bit heel = bloody heel); and at least one animal's blood was shed to cover their shame (v. 21; skinned animal = bloody animal). The faith of believing Abel moves him to make blood sacrifice which Yahweh accepts, while He rejects Cain's bloodless (and faithless) sacrifice (closely compare Genesis 4:1-5 with Hebrews 11:4's "more acceptable sacrifice," before too hastily dismissing the bloody element).

When Yahweh formalized His covenant with Abram, what means did He choose? The bloody covenantal formalities of Abram's day (Genesis 15).

Surely no Pyro reader needs me to make the point that Israel's worship of Yahweh was blood-spattered, in a vivid depiction of penal, substitutionary atonement, from start to finish? Yahweh's covenant with Israel is inaugurated with blood (Exodus 24:5-8).

And after a series of commands which Israel is urged to obey (Exodus 20-24), Yahweh immediately begins giving instructions as to what to do in view of the certainty that they will not obey. That is, He directs the construction of the Tabernacle and the institution of the priesthood (Exodus 25ff.). And what is the primary function of the Tabernacle? The worship of Yahweh by the offering of bloody, substitutionary sacrifices (among others; detailed in the book of Leviticus). Thus the writer to the Hebrews could rightly say in 9:22 that "under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins."

In fact, the truth is expressed clearly in the central, clarifying text of Leviticus 17:11 — "For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it for you on the altar to make atonement for your souls, for it is the blood that makes atonement by the life. " That is what "Yahweh spoke to Moses" (17:1).

Accordingly, what is "blood" in these Biblical contexts if not shorthand for penal, substitutionary atonement?

Bringing it to Proverbs

Putting this together: a textually-respectful, whole-Bible reading of Proverbs will see each mention of Yahweh as equivalent to saying "the God of Israel, who can be believingly approached only on the basis of penal, substitutionary atonement."

Therefore, I would argue, just as each use of Jesus by NT writers is theologically "loaded," so it is with uses of Yahweh in the OT. No matter the proverb's subject, this is who Yahweh is: He is the God of penal, substitutionary atonement. It would be legitimate (if stylistically reprehensible) thus to gloss proverbs:

A false balance is an abomination to [Yahweh, the God of penal, substitutionary atonement],
but a just weight is his delight (Proverbs 11:1)

The name of [Yahweh, the God of penal, substitutionary atonement] is a strong tower;
the righteous man runs into it and is safe (Proverbs 18:10)

The purpose of Proverbs is expressly stated to be the acquisition and practical living out of God's viewpoint (Proverbs 1:1-6), so one will not expect a focused doctrinal exposition per se. However, when Proverbs 1:7 says that absolutely everything is based and built on the fear of Yahweh, we now understand that Solomon means the fear of Yahweh, the God who can be approached only through faith and on the basis of penal, substitutionary atonement.

In sum, then: the first signpost is in Solomon's use of God's name "Yahweh." The OT knows of no Yahweh who is not the God approached by faith on the basis of penal, substitutionary atonement.

In the next installment, I plan to examine a verse that directs us towards the atonement in a surprising manner; then to bring both posts together in a concluding statement.

UPDATE: part two.

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The "accountability" thing

by Dan Phillips

BoB. One of the questions posed to the Band of Bloggers panel (at which our blog was ably represented by Phil Johnson) was on the issue of "accountability."

I think "accountability" has taken on the status of a buzzword. You say it's important, everyone nods knowingly and murmurs "Mmm, accountability," and you're in. They know you're okay.

But what does "accountability" mean?

In some contexts, it means "infinite-buck-pass." Folks who rankle at submitting to any human authority simply assure that everyone (else) can be trumped by someone. This usually ends in a majority vote. Folks like this feel a lot better about majority-vote.

This solution has long puzzled me. In the Bible, the majority is almost invariably wrong.

Q: Can 10 out of 12 spies be wrong?
A: You betcha!

Q: Can virtually an entire nation be wrong?
A: You betcha! More than once!

Etc.

Further, to whom is the majority "accountable"? With mob-rule, who rules the mob?

The question of accountability strikes me as particularly odd in the context of blogging. Nonetheless, let's take it seriously, and work towards a serious answer.

To whom is a Christian blogger "accountable"? First, we have to define "accountability." Is that an easy task? Let's try to make it easy by suggesting answerable as a synonym. But does that really make it easy? What would you mean by either word? Are you asking who has the authority to censor a blogger, or to reprove him, to correct him? To force him to change his mind, or to change one of his posts?

How about his pastor? I actually think that's a good suggestion for some sort of accountability, since it is indeed the role of a pastor to keep watch over (and answer for) the souls of those under his charge (Hebrews 13:17). We are to respect our pastors and follow their lead (1 Corinthians 16:16; 1 Thessalonians 5:12-13; Hebrews 13:7, 17; etc.).

So I think it would be perfectly appropriate for a pastor to read his sheep's blogs insofar as he is able to do so, or at least to check on occasion to make sure that the blogger is representing Christ faithfully. After all, as I mean to develop in another post, blogging is indeed a stewardship with some attendant formidable responsibilities.

Frank Turk has shared that his pastor keeps tabs on him, and I think that's great. I had the pleasure of meeting Pastor Tad at T4G and offered my sympathies and prayers. It would certainly be faithful pastoring to offer correction and encouragement and direction to those under one's charge (cf. 2 Timothy 4:2).

Additionally, we three keep tabs on each other. More than once, each of us has put up a post in "Draft" status and invited the others for feedback. Or if a discussion heats up, we'll invite assessment or criticism or perspective, confident that we'll be candid and honest with each other.

But beyond that, what would one suggest? An advisory panel of Christian Blogger Overlord Watchdogs? What a great idea. We could call it "CBLOW."

But, seriously. What further "accountability" is called for?

I honestly think that to pose the question thoughtfully is to answer it. To whom is a Christian blogger answerable? Good heavens — what is more public than blogging?

Think about it: you talk to a fellow church member, and one person hears you. You teach a Sunday School class, and maybe a few dozen hear you. Preach, and (unless it's recorded) dozens or hundreds hear you.

But when you blog?

Blog, and everybody hears you — or at any rate everyone can. It is right out there in public, all of it, for God and everyone to see, analyze, fact-check, pick over, misrepresent, treasure, slander, repeat, steal, discuss, debate, and any other appropriate verb you might choose.

In the past, and very frequently, I've taken great comfort in this fact. When someone glances at a post-title and then blurts out his immediate emotional reaction, or skims to my last paragraph and rips apart what he imagines I said, or runs off to his own blog or another's to cry and complain about something... the public nature of this entire "conversation" is very comforting to me. I know that any fair-minded reader can examine what I said, and decide for himself — up, down, or sideways.

And if they're not fair-minded? Oh well; wasn't going to win them anyway.

I remember a fellow who angrily demanded that I source a quotation. But I had! I'm obsessive about sourcing. It was right there in the post. I even re-read it myself again and again — but he insisted it wasn't sourced, and got madder and madder at me for being so irresponsible. But everything I had written was on display for everyone to see. Very comforting to me, in that case.

But on the other hand, the knowledge that everything I write will be read by all sorts of people is very sobering as well. Think about it: everything I write will be read by people smarter than I, better-educated than I (the two are not necessarily interchangeable); by people who know things I don't know, and who see things from angles I haven't considered. Some of them will be supportive of what I want to say, some will be very angered by it, some will be bitterly opposed to it. And they all have access to a public forum. Genius or... er, non-genius, they have equal access to the same public forum that I access.

If I did in fact say something foolish and/or irresponsible and/or stupid, they can tell everyone. Everyone. On this blog, on their blog, on anyone's blog. Forever, until I die or am hounded off the scene in shame, known only as "Oh-yes-Dan-Phillips,-that-pinhead-who-____."

How's that for accountability?

And it works, too. In fact, it's a big reason why I tend to crankiness when someone quick-draws (and sloppy-shoots) some challenge to a question I already anticipated in the post. Before I hit PUBLISH POST, I try to read the post from several angles to anticipate challenges and questions it might provoke. I doubt anyone likes to be made a fool in public, and I try to avoid it whenever possible.

But what is the final court of appeal? When I (say) vigorously affirm the sufficiency of Scripture, a lot of folks are delighted, but equally a lot of folks are madder than wet cats. To which group am I responsible, to which am I "accountable"?

In the final analysis, to none of them.

Where the buck actually stops. On the great Day, my ministry as a blogger won't be passed before a majority vote, but before a vote of one (2 Corinthians 5:10; Hebrews 4:13).

I know that's got to seem suspiciously convenient to some. Consider these Scriptures, then:

You shall not curse the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind, but you shall fear your God: I am the LORD (Leviticus 19:14)

You shall not wrong one another, but you shall fear your God, for I am the LORD your God (Leviticus 25:17)

For they are my servants, whom I brought out of the land of Egypt; they shall not be sold as slaves. 43 You shall not rule over him ruthlessly but shall fear your God (Leviticus 25:42-43)

All these ethical demands, and each has the same motivator: fear your God.

The disabled person cannot avenge himself — but you had better fear God! The neighbor you bilk may not know enough to call your dishonesty — but you had better fear God! Your helpless fellow-Israelite may not have the power to deal with your injustice — but you had better fear God!

One might counter, "But there were courts and judges to which people could appeal. Israelites were accountable to them." Perhaps so.

So who was at the top of the human authority-ladder? Where did the buck stop? Who had no humans to whom he was "accountable," in that sense? That would be the king. As Solomon wrote:

I say: Keep the king's command, because of God's oath to him. 3 Be not hasty to go from his presence. Do not take your stand in an evil cause, for he does whatever he pleases. 4 For the word of the king is supreme, and who may say to him, "What are you doing?" (Ecclesiastes 8:2-4)

And where was the king's accountability?

"And when he sits on the throne of his kingdom, he shall write for himself in a book a copy of this law, approved by the Levitical priests. 19 And it shall be with him, and he shall read in it all the days of his life, that he may learn to fear the LORD his God by keeping all the words of this law and these statutes, and doing them.... (Deuteronomy 17:18-19)

The king was to learn from the Law the fear of Yahweh. The priests made sure he copied it accurately, but there's no indication of further responsibility on their part. The king was directed to the Word, and the Word taught him to fear Yahweh. That was to motivate him, keep him in line. Hold him accountable.

And besides, ultimately, if the fear of God is insufficient motivation, then we have a problem not soluble by committee.

This dimension should both humble and embolden the Christian blogger (Proverbs 28:1). He will welcome wise criticism without being its slave (Proverbs 9:8b-9; 11:2; 26:12).

He's wise enough to mistake neither his critics' judgment, nor his own, for God's.

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