Thoughts and questions along the church-size trajectory

by Dan Phillips

Happy new year. I think it's good that we start the year facing some of these questions together.

In my previous post I broached the question of church size and trajectory. Fond as I am not of verbosity, let's cut straight to what I hope are useful guidelines, questions, and answers.

My preface to these is that they are for you and me. I'll either ignore or delete questions like "So are you saying that _____'s church is too big/small?" I want you to apply this directly to your forehead. The happiest results I am aiming at are these:

1. Some leaders of churches that are big enough or oversized will conclude it's time to invest resources and personnel for planting daughter-churches in other locations. Note: "daughter churches," with their own pastoral leadership, preaching, and all.
2. Some attenders of massively oversized churches will conclude that a better stewardship of their gifts would be to find churches that are under-supported, rather than remain in a church where they are redundant by a factor of fifty.
3. People searching for a church will repent of their consumer mentality and look along Biblical guidelines.
4. Some leaders of smaller churches will find their spirits refreshed and be encouraged to stay the course and redouble outreach efforts.
5. Some attenders of smaller churches will repent of their inwardness, complacency, and indulgent laziness, and will catch fire for reaching out with the Gospel and with their church's ministry of the Word, and will permeate their local church with the investment of their gifts and time.

That said, then:

For Larger Church Leaders

1. What is "enough"? You know the Greek word translated "greed" or "covetousness" means simply wanting more. Can a church ministry be greedy? Are you sure that you are not erecting a monument to a gifted speaker, destined to be tomorrow's hollow, dead European cathedral, or compromised by the need to replace your current personality with an equal or greater crowd-drawer/bill-payer? This flows right into:
2. Why do you need more than a total of 217 people? That's a number I've plopped out there for years as the ideal church size, a bit more than half-seriously. But really: at around that number, you're large enough that you have the resources for some serious and worthwhile ministries, and still you're at a size where everyone could know everyone, and pastors could really pastor. Why do you need to be larger? How much larger? And while I'm asking...
3. Is your main talking head a pastor? Do you remember that Jesus describes a good pastor as one who knows his sheep by name, cares personally for them, is personally known by his sheep, and is willing to lay down his life for them (Jn. 10:3-5, 11-14). What percentage of the people he lectures does your speaking head know like that, serve like that? At what point of disparity do you conclude that it is no longer best either for him or them? Is he actually baptizing people he's never met, let alone heard their testimony? Which also flows right into:
4. Is your main talking head amassing, or reproducing? Remember that Paul always took apprentices, and he gave them lots to do. He even "shared billing" with them in writing his epistles (cf. 1 Cor. 1:1; 2 Cor. 1:1; Phil. 1:1, etc.). He famously told Timothy, "what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also" (2 Tim. 2:2). Who are your head personality's apprentices? Should he go to Jesus or a larger church today, who steps in? Which flows right into:
5. Are you keen on making your church as large as it can be, or on 
   
   spreading the ministry of the Word of God as broadly and deeply as you can? The latter, in my judgment, is the Biblical view (see first post and Acts' refrain). So these men your lead speaker should be apprenticing, are they regularly being sent to found other churches 10, 15, 20 and more miles from you? Are people from your congregation being called on to move and/or otherwise relocate to support these ministries?
6. Are there any passages, Scriptures, subjects, or activities that you are avoiding because of the negative impact it would have on attendance/prestige/cash-flow? Do you even need me to expand on that (Acts 20:27; 1 Tim. 5:21)?

For Larger Church Attenders

1. Are you attending your church primarily for what it does for you, or for what you can do for it? Or perhaps because it actually doesn't need you to do anything because there are already 10, 30, 100 volunteers ready to do what you can do? Can you coast because it's so big? Just go, have a great time watching a famous guy talk about God, select who you spend time with and to what depth, and get back to your schedule? Are you there as a consumer... while probably deriding consumerism when it comes to people like Warren, Hybels, Furtick and so on?
2. How are you investing your "talent"? Using Matthew 25:14ff., are you using yours somewhere where it's really needed and significant, or are you keeping it safe and sound because a dozen others already do it better anyway? Are churches around you struggling and scraping while yours sits atop multiple layers of redundancy? Which spirit more glorifies God and answers to the constant Biblical calls to give, stretch, sacrifice, love, extend?
3. How long would it be before you were even missed?
   
4. Do you care more about the spread of the ministry of the Word, or about you being comforted and coddled by well-stocked easy-reach shelves full o' goodness?

For Smaller Church Leaders

1. What is enough? Is it possible that your equally-faithful, equally-Christ-exalting, equally-Bible-teaching ministry is not being multiplied like Pastor Famoushead simply because that's God's will for your area, or because God sees you would be tempted beyond what you're able, simply because you aren't Pastor Famoushead? Is it possible that he's up to the pressure, and you just aren't, and the size of your charge is a divine kindness to you and to them?
   
2. Do you mistake smallness for purity? (See first post.) You shouldn't.
3. Have you given up? (See first post, and 2 Tim. 1:6-8, Greek.) You mustn't.
4. Have you done all you can to reach the lost in your area? You probably haven't.
5. Are you setting an example of outreach for your people? You should.
6. Are you setting an example of hospitality? You should.
7. Have you tried to teach your folks a Biblical vision of outreach with the Word? You must.
8. Are you investing in finding, encouraging, and cultivating reproducers in your fellowship? (This book is a great help.)
9. While you are still relatively small, are you exploiting that very smallness to build stronger, deeper relationships with those presently under your care? Beware sacrificing the unsatisfying but potential-laden present for the elusive utopian future.
10. Do you thank God that there's anybody who wants to hear you do what you love best? Because you really should.

For Smaller Church Attenders

1. Are you content, or even happy, that your church does not grow despite being surrounded by lost or ill-taught and deceived souls? Would you be just as happy if your church never lost or added one person, or baptized one convert? Because you really shouldn't be (see first post). You should repent, pray earnestly, change.
2. Whose job is it, primarily, to expand the witness and ministry of your church? Would your most candid response to my first question, "No, I really would like to see the pastor and other people bring in more of the right sort of person"? Or perhaps, "No, I really do hope Something does Happen, and more people happen by, wander in, and decide to stay"? After you do answer, read Romans 1 and 1 Thessalonians 1, and see if you need to revise your answer. Then read Ephesians 4:15-16, and reconsider. Leading to:
3. Are you doing your job faithfully? Do you evangelize, at work and while shopping and at home? How many friends have you told about how much you love your church and why, and have you invited, and have you brought? In the last month, the last year, the last five years? Or do you imagine that's someone else's job?
4. Do you look for newcomers when they actually do come, and make it your job to make them welcome and show them love?  Who is Romans 12:13 addressed to, do you think?
   
5. Is it more important to you to sit in "your" pew, or to sit with someone who could use the blessing of being shown love?
6. Do you attend your church prayer meetings, and is your voice heard regularly crying out to God to use your church's ministry to save the lost and disciple the saved? Are you a subscriber to the theories of the importance of corporate prayer and of sovereign grace, while never gathering corporately to beseech God to move in sovereign grace?
7. Do you do what the leaders can't do? Is the Word being preached and taught clearly, deeply, effectively, transformationally, to God's glory? Is Christ exalted in the church's priorities and ministries? Do your leaders follow Christ and love those they care for with integrity? If so, your leaders can't very well go around saying so, can they? ("Come to my church, I really preach the Word deeply and effectively!") So, do you?

I hope you find equal measures of help, head-scratching, and challenge in those thoughts. And by next Monday, everything will be different!

(Riiight.) 

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Small and static versus larger and growing: opening thoughts

by Dan Phillips

Is a small church inherently virtuous and godly? Is a large church intrinsically venomous and worldly?

I come from a bit of prejudice on the subject, I'll admit. All of my earliest church experiences were small (by which I mean not merely under 100, but under 50), and I liked it. But then I also was part of larger churches (over 200, over 500), and I liked that too. That said, I do tend to see the need to be as large as possible as evil...but also contentment with remaining comfortably small as comfortable no less evil.

Oops, I've given away the conclusion, without so much as a Spoiler Alert. Well, let's back-track. Let's lay some Biblical framework.

First, one definition: for the purpose of these posts, I'll define a "small" church as 100 or fewer, assuming a town of 25000 or more.

One the one hand: small can be glorious

The Bible is literally riddled with stories whose whole point is to glorify God precisely because of the smallness of the beginnings. "Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you; for he was but one when I called him, that I might bless him and multiply him" (Isaiah 51:2), for instance. He was one, he was old, and he was married to an infertile woman. All this served to glorify God all the more by what God made of this old believing man with his infertile wife.

Moses did not free Israel from Egypt by amassing a huge army. It was just two little old men, and one great big God. That was part of the point, and the glory, of the story.

Very famously, there's the story of Gideon, raised up to liberate Israel from Midian. Though Gideon surely did not agree, Yahweh thought 32000 troops were far too many (Judges 7:2-3). In fact, he thought 10000 troops was overkill (v. 4). But 300 was just right (v. 7). Just right to reassure Gideon, or the three hundred themselves? Surely not. But just right to glorify God by the deliverance He'd work.

Many other stories make the same point. King Saul's son Jonathan decides to take on a whole Philistine garrison, just by himself and his armor-carrier, explicitly reasoning "It may be that the LORD will work for us, for nothing can hinder the LORD from saving by many or by few" (1 Samuel 14:6b). Then l ater, in the name of the God of Israel, little punk shepherd-boy David knocks down the giant that had a whole king and army trembling (1 Samuel 17). In many ways, the OT warns against despising "the day of small things" (Zechariah 4:10).

The New Testament has many such stories and many such teachings as well. Jesus famously warns that the popular and crowded road is the one that leads to Hell, while its opposite is narrower and vastly less popular (Matthew 7:13-14). He warns his spokesmen to expect rejection and persecution (Matthew 10:21-22), and that whole towns might reject them and their preaching (v. 14).

Jesus was glorified by feeding huge masses by supplies that were paltry and cheap (John 6:9ff.). But he had no problem teaching things that sent people running away in droves (v. 60ff.). When that was their reason for leaving, attrition didn't bother Him a bit (v. 67).

Fast-forwarding, Paul warns that the church age will not be marked by gradual grown and development into a glorious golden age on earth. No, he says that the latter days will be marked by rejection and unpopularity of truth, and love of error (2 Timothy 4:3-4). The man who would be a man of God must be prepared to preach doggedly and persistently and consistently, when it looks like the very worst time for it (vv. 1-2, 5).

On the other hand: explosive can be good, too

First we have to remember the passion to see God glorified.

People who love God as they ought can't be content just to see Him glorified a little, if anything can be done with it. Their vision is God's vision: to see the earth "filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD as the waters cover the sea" (Habakkuk 2:14). Their sigh is, "Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men!" (Ps. 107:8 NKJV; cf. vv. 15, 21, 31). They long for God to be known and loved and marveled at and praised from pole to pole (Ps. 148:7, 13; Isaiah 42:10, etc.).

And people who love people as they should cannot be content to see their fellow-man living in darkness and despair, and skipping gaily off to a hopeless eternity under the relentless and endless wrath of God (cf. Matt. 7:12). They can't claim ignorance, and wouldn't dream of it (Proverbs 24:11-12).

So they're like Paul, who knew everything we know from the first section, and yet it was his ambition to preach Christ and His gospel everywhere, particularly where He was not yet known (Romans 15:20-24). You would search long, hard, and utterly fruitlessly to find in Paul any spirit of "Oh well, God's sovereign, I've done what I can, you can't save everyone."

So there are explosively big moments here and there in Scripture. The one that leaps to mind is the birthday of the church, on Pentecost. Growth from maybe the under-200 range to over three thousand, as a result of one sermon, is what most of us pastors would count a "really good day" (Acts 2:41; cf. 4:4 for another leap).

And something like this continues through Acts. There are persecutions and treacheries a-plenty, but there is also the constant refrain:

6:7 — And the word of God continued to increase, and the number of the disciples multiplied greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith.

8:4 — Now those who were scattered went about preaching the word.

12:24 — But the word of God increased and multiplied 

13:44 — The next Sabbath almost the whole city gathered to hear the word of the Lord.

13:48-49 — And when the Gentiles heard this, they began rejoicing and glorifying the word of the Lord, and as many as were appointed to eternal life believed. 49 And the word of the Lord was spreading throughout the whole region.

17:11 — Now these Jews were more noble than those in Thessalonica; they received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so.

19:10 — This continued for two years, so that all the residents of Asia heard the word of the Lord, both Jews and Greeks.

19:20 — So the word of the Lord continued to increase and prevail mightily.

So, the combination: eager, inventive, tireless preachers + actual saving Gospel + lost men and woman + saving hand of God = spread of the Word among converts. 

Growth, in other words. Good, sound, holy, God-honoring, healthy, appropriate growth, built and based on the pure word of God. Faithfulness and fruitfulness.

The two problems we're left with

These facts of revelation leave us with two problems. The first is often insoluble.

First question: Why is this happening/not happening to me/him? You look at a work that is plastic, formulaic, and all-wrong. They don't preach the Gospel deeply, they don't teach the Bible very intensively; it's like toy-time for toddlers. But they grow explosively. You've heard the story a thousand times. "We started with three people, and in a year we had 1700." No big budget, just tons of quick and impressive growth. It's years later, and they're still going strong.

Or on the other hand, you're a preacher who preaches the whole counsel of God with everything you've got. Every prayerfully-formed-and-delivered sermon/lesson exalts God, edifies saints, points to Christ, to the best of your God-given ability. And your church has at least some people who evangelize, and show love. And you're in a target-rich location.

And you just. Don't. Grow.

Now, we can make guesses about both. About the former, we can prate on about "itching ears" and Zeitgeist and all — except it's not really a cult or a heresy. They do preach Jesus and gospel, if not very deeply. It's just not what we believe Biblically it should be.

Yet they multiply like bunnies, looking for all the world like a real work of God for explosiveness.

About the latter, we could say there's not enough evangelism, they're too young/too old, their style is too this or not enough that, and yadda yadda yadda.

But none of those items were factors in Acts. If someone's heart is touched by God, if he wants to know and serve God alongside genuine believers, this would be a perfectly fine home for him. In fact, a terrific home. And for such a work to grow would bring great glory to God.

Yet it just doesn't happen.

Why?

I have no idea. Worse, I know of no way to tell until the Judgment.

Well, that's a sucky answer, isn't it? Not what you come to Top Men to hear. Well, I'm not a top man, and I hate the answer too, but it's all I've got. How many followers did Isaiah have? Jeremiah? Ezekiel? What happened with Jonathan Edwards at his church? How wildly popular was he in his lifetime?

Why?

No clue, other than to say something like "because thus it pleased the Lord to deal with His servants."

Second question: Is what is happening to me as-should-be? Should I be happy, concerned, or...?

Ah, now, there I might have some help for you. Some help.

Friday, Lord willing.

UPDATE: this way to the Conclusion.

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Lament of the pathetic preacher — and what we all must learn from it

by Dan Phillips

What mediocre preacher said this?

It is a long time since I preached a sermon that I was satisfied with. I scarcely recollect ever having done so.

If you didn't suspect a trick-question, you might speculate, "You, DJP?" — a fair and appropriate guess. But no, the mediocre preacher was Charles Haddon Spurgeon, in a sermon titled "Good Earnests of Great Success," preached in 1868 (thanks to Dave Harvey, whose post brought this to my attention).

Spurgeon goes on:

You do not know, for you cannot hear my groanings when I go home, Sunday after Sunday, and wish that I could learn to preach somehow or other; wish that I could discover the way to touch your hearts and your consciences, for I seem to myself to be just like the fire when it wants stirring; the coals have got black when I want them to flame forth.

If I could but say in the pulpit what I feel in my study, or if I could but get out of

my mouth what I have tried to get into my own soul, then I should preach indeed, and move your souls, I think. Yet perhaps God will use our weakness, and we may use it with ourselves, to stir us up to greater strength. You know the difference between slow motion and rapidity. If there were a cannon ball rolled slowly down these aisles, it might not hurt anybody; it might be very large, very huge, but it might be so rolled along that you might not rise from your seats in fear. But if somebody would give me a rifle, and ever so small a ball, I reckon that if the ball flew along the Tabernacle, some of you might find it very difficult to stand in its way. It is the force that does the thing. 

So, it is not the great man who is loaded with learning that will achieve work for God; it is the man, who, however small his ability, is filled with force and fire, and who rushes forward in the energy which heaven has given him, that will accomplish the work—the man who has the most intense spiritual life, who has real vitality at its highest point of tension, and living, while he lives, with all the force of his nature for the glory of God. Put these three or four things together, and I think you have the means of prosperity. [Paragraph breaks added]

Were I interviewed on truths that loom larger and larger over the decades, particularly regarding preaching, I know what would come near the top. It is this: the centrality and native impotence of preaching.

No reader of Pyromaniacs will need convincing of the former. It is the "preacher" who brings the word that saving faith requires (Romans 10:14, 17), and through the folly of what we preach that God saves sinners (1 Corinthians 1:21). Our paramount and awesome imperative, as pastors, is to "Preach the Word" regardless of opposition (2 Timothy 4:2, with context).

How, then, can I speak of the impotence of preaching?

My readiest answer is "From experience!" But let me back up. As a young Christian man and a beginning preacher, so high was my estimate of the Word of God that I virtually saw it as a magic book. Here's what I mean: Hebrews 4:12 was a central verse, with its declaration that "The word of God is living and effective and sharp beyond any two-edged sword," piercing where nothing else can reach. There it is. That book is full of divine power.

I still utterly believe that, more than ever. But the way I rather expected it to work was virtually ex opere operato. That is, you preach the Word, and wonderful things happen. Every time. Kazingo. Just by doing it. Because the Word is so inherently powerful.

As with all error, there is truth in all of that. Something does happen. Both preacher and hearer now stand under the testimony of God. It counts. Whether we repent or reject, whether we mourn or mock, whatever our response, God has spoken. He is on record; and His speaking to us is on our record.

But what was not prominent enough in my thinking was the absolutely and constantly essential ministry of the Triune God, whether the hearers are saved or unsaved. The work of conversion, of blessing, of edification, completely and utterly depends on God attending, using, and applying His word with power (cf. 1 Thessalonians 1:5; 2:13).

Consider this: Paul preached Christ. Lydia believed. Yay, there you have it, Hebrews 4:12! Yes indeed — but other ladies present did not believe. Uh-oh. Why not? Because "the Lord opened [Lydia's] heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul" (Acts 16:14b), and He did not do that for the others who heard the exact same preaching.

Was the fault Paul's? Had he done a better job, given a better altar-call, furnished a glossier Anxious Bench, could he have produced more responses? Well, maybe so; but he couldn't have opened more hearts.

This is the vital and indispensable element: the work of God behind, in, with, above, through, and often despite our preaching. It is the vital element, and it is the element we cannot control or produce by formula. We can only plead and beseech Heaven, that God would move His hand, and work to His glory.

Until and unless that happens, we are like Elijah on Mt. Carmel. By the very best of our preparation and passion, we can lay plenty of wood. And by our innumerable flaws and idiocies and patheticalities, we will surely drench the wood with abundant water.

But the fire?

That must come from Heaven, or it will not come at all.

This is a truth that Charles Spurgeon, probably the greatest preacher ever to use the English language, grasped and believed. John Stott (no slouch as a preacher) relates the story that Spurgeon, as he climbed the steps to his pulpit, regularly repeated over and over "I believe in the Holy Ghost, I believe in the Holy Ghost."

So must we, consciously and in great, pleading, abject dependence.

How? I'll close with a few specific exhortations:

1. The pastor himself must pray as he works on his sermon. I knew a preacher who would not prepare at all, because he felt that the Holy Spirit needed to give him the word on the spot. I wondered, "Couldn't the Holy Spirit have helped you on Monday, and Tuesday, as you worked on a message?" Of course He can, and does.
2. The pastor himself should pray for the work of God before, during, and after the delivery of the sermon. I confess I am still learning this...along with everything else worth learning.
3. But the congregation must also join in. Paul often pled for his converts' and readers' prayers for his ministry of the Word (cf. Colossians 4:3-4; 2 Thessalonians 3:1). So attend your church's midweek prayer meeting, and join your brothers and sisters in opening your mouth in prayers for conversions, for conviction, for instruction, for transformation through the ministry of the Gospel and Word. Then on Sunday, take time before the service starts to find your seat and begin praying for yourself and others, for your pastor, and for the effective ministry of the Word.

I stress this last, because my mistake as a pastor can fall to others in the congregation as well. You may feel you have a good and faithful pastor who preaches the Word. If so, praise God. And then perhaps you think that'll do 'er. He preaches, and presto! magic happens. If it doesn't, well then, the pastor must not be preaching well enough. He must not be working the formula. Cancel Pastor Appreciation Day/Month until he figures it out.

But no, think again. Do not imagine that even the very best preacher's sermon will accomplish any more than a snowball in the Sahara, apart from the hand of God on it. And that's where you are called to come in, and wrestle alongside  him in your prayers (Romans 15:30; 2 Corinthians 1:11).

Paul knew it, Spurgeon knew it. Let us know it as well.

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Walking that pastoral tightrope

by Dan Phillips

It has been remarked that I'm fond of creating lists. Like —

1. This one
2. This one
3. And this one. 

And that was another!

I could list out a bunch of reasons why that is true (see what I did there?)... but, instead, let's just make one more!

You know I'm not overfond of literary overwordiness, so I'll let the list expound itself. Ahem:

1. Pastor, if you see a largely empty auditorium and don't care, then outreach and effectiveness can't matter much to you (pace Matt. 28:18-20). But if you care too much, it will crush you...making you worthless for outreach, and ineffective!
2. Pastor, if you preach the Gospel with all the passion and power that you can plead down from Heaven, and yet not a single soul responds, and you don't care...then your faith and your ardor may be defective. But if you care too much, it will crush you, and end you as a pastor.
3. Pastor, if you preach all corners and angles of the Word of God to your congregation, knowing that they would change visibly (some of them dramatically so) if they took it to heart — and then you don't care or hardly notice when nothing whatever seems to happen in lives needing change, then you aren't much of a shepherd (Prov. 27:23; Ezek. 34). But if you care too much, it will crush you, and you will either leave the pastorate, or start crafting sermons that are bitter and petulant, or so edgeless and general that looking for response is no longer a painful issue.
   
4. Pastor, if you never lay out specific applications of how to show love for God or practice the priesthood of the believer or live out the doctrine of the church (e.g. church membership, church involvement, coming on-time so the whole assembly can start together, etc.), you may be playing it safe to protect yourself from disappointment or hostility, and you're failing to provoke your folks to love and good deeds (Heb. 10:24). But if you do get specific... you risk disappointment (in yourself) and hostility (in your hearers)!
5. Pastor, if you care too much what folks think of you, and modify your message and ministry to make sure you stay popular, you're no servant of Christ (Gal. 1:10; 1 Thess. 2:4). But if you don't care at all about others, shut out their feelings and cares and needs and failings, and never consider the impact of your words or actions — you're just a loveless, self-absorbed jerk (Matt. 7:12; 1 Cor. 10:33; 13:4-8a).

So, there it is. To care, as a pastor, is to live with constant pain, to deal regularly with self-reproach, self-recriminations, self-doubt; with disappointment, with frustration, with temptations to depression and despair. It is to be moved with concern, deeply and painfully (Matthew 9:36; 14:14). It is to be in constant, daily anxiety (2 Corinthians 11:28; Philippians 2:20). It is to hurt and ache along with every temptation and failure in the flock (2 Corinthians 11:29).

But not to care is to fail of our calling just as surely. There is no escaping this life of joy-and-pain without at the same time fleeing from our pastoral call.

So we must care, we must care constantly and deeply... but we must not care too much!

So, there you go! On "three," now: One... two...

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John Piper and Mark Driscoll: lessons not learned?

by Dan Phillips

NOTE: this week's SHST is pushed aside by a recent turn of events. To wit:

A recent "Ask Pastor John" segment is titled "Do You Regret Partnering with Mark Driscoll?" An answer to that question could have been very helpful. However, once the question is asked, the word "partnering" never recurs. Piper instead poses and answers a question of his own: "Do you regret befriending Mark Driscoll?"

I don't doubt that question was more appealing. Low-hanging fruit always is. However, it is is a question I've heard no one ask. I asked my Tweeps if anyone had heard that question asked, and no one had. (I also offered some other thoughtlets on Twitter: here, here.)

"John Piper has no regret for befriending Mark Driscoll," Piper said Bob-Dole-ically, answering the question he alone asked himself. Piper did go on to admit that he regrets not being a more effective friend. But then Piper somewhat undoes that admission, by saying that Mark knew he had flaws of leadership attitude, unsavory language, exegetical errors, and that Mark knew Piper knew. Piper says he always hoped the relationship would be redemptive and helpful. So it's really Driscoll's fault. Which, of course, ultimately is true...and, once again, was not the question.

Then, somewhat oddly, Piper stressed that Driscoll gave Piper a lot of time and counsel and "guidance." Driscoll gave guidance to Piper and his elders. "He certainly gave me more time and counsel than I deserved." Oh? What is this? Taken seriously, this rather subverts the perception that Piper was an elder brother taking Driscoll under his wing to sober, mature, guide and mentor the famously loose-cannon leaky-Canoneer. Instead, Piper depicts them as equals, giving and receiving counsel to each other.

Would that make Piper still less responsible for the direction Driscoll took? Is that the intent?

But this is all wide of the mark (no pun intended). The issue is that Piper had, as far as I know, a well-earned stellar reputation. He was regarded as a sagacious elder statesman. He lit the fires of devotion to God, delight in God, open celebration of God's sovereignty. He did and represented much that is really great and good. I myself have often admitted with enthusiasm (and do so again, here) that Piper's writings have done me great good, particularly Future Grace.

So when Piper extended his embrace to Mark Driscoll, all that gravitas and bona fides was added to Driscoll's resume. Driscoll had been "the cussing pastor" and all; now he was "John Piper's protegee," "John Piper's partner." When anyone started to express misgivings about Driscoll, he might hear the response, "But John Piper embraces him. Piper's working with him. Driscoll must be OK." Driscoll himself had that card to play, as needed.

Good men cautioned Piper privately and publicly, warned him, begged him to reconsider what he was doing. But Piper resolutely brushed them all aside and stayed the course. And so has Driscoll.

So now where are we? We are exactly where Piper's friends warned him he'd be. Driscoll has come to a sad place, yet remains defiant and undaunted, and it's Piper who has to explain their connection.

But Piper still doesn't seem to take it all that seriously.

In a way, Piper seems to ackonwlege that things are sort of bad now, though for unspecified reasons. Piper says he sees why Driscoll's books might be off of shelves temporarily. Yet he also immediately goes on to say he sees a day when they could be replaced and stand on their own merit. Which underscores something I'm going to say, below, about "echo-chamber":

Piper says Driscoll's books can stand on their own merit if they're true and helpful? Sir, they're PLAGIARIZED! They're someone else's work!
— Janet Mefferd (@JanetMefferd) November 13, 2014

Before we leave that paragraph, Piper says, "If he is disqualified from being an elder should he still exercise the teaching office of an elder through his books?" "If"? Is he, or isn't he? Driscoll himself insists that he is not disqualified. His hand-picked committee that was supposed to be counseling him insists that "we do not believe him to be disqualified from pastoral ministry." Is Piper saying differently? If so, he is not saying it very clearly.

Despite all that publicly known information, what Piper does say clearly is that he has "no regret." Hear Piper:

John Piper has no regret for befriending Mark Driscoll, going to Mark Driscoll’s church and speaking at his events, or having him come to the Desiring God conference. I do not regret that.

Instead, Piper sees himself as in a position to issue lessons that he says he has learned, and which he says we should all take from the whole affair. Having admitted no errors in judgment, and detailing nothing specific that he would do differently, he's ready to bid adieu to the whole thing, it appears, with this list. Here it is, and I shall add my own brief thoughts in brackets:

1. People are very complex. Some of our sins are hidden to ourselves. [Amen. But I didn't need this, to know that; and all the harm that has been done was not necessary for this point to be made.]
2. We need to take very seriously what wise counselors tell us about ourselves. [Ironic. The advice of wise counselors to Piper himself that he should distance himself from Driscoll, or be more public in his rebukes, apparently is excepted.]
3. Sometimes you can see what others are saying about yourself, sometimes you can't. If you see it, you repent and fight the sin. But if you can't? What then? You have to go with what you see, or you'd be hopping to everybody's varying opinion, something neither Paul nor Jesus did. Says Mark stood down instead of a fight (implying he did the right thing). [This paints Driscoll's stepping down as a noble act, given Driscoll's inability to get what his critics are saying. Putting it mildly, I do not see it that way.]
4. Biblical leadership structures are not luxuries. [Amen. Yet Driscoll was unwilling to follow the counsel even of his hand-restructured structure.]
5. Salaries shouldn't be huge. Corporate mindset, beware. [Like a pastor seeing himself as "the brand"?]
6. Same theology on paper can coexist with very different personalities and leadership styles and sins. No theology on paper or merely in preaching that keeps a man from sin. See Peter — what he did in Galatia had nothing to do with his theology. Peter and those who erred with him believed the truth, but did not walk in step with it. [Amen.]
7. God's kingdom and his saving purposes never depend on one man, church, denomination. His word is not bound. [Amen, and thank God. But is it not also true that "one sinner destroys much good" (Ecclesiastes 9:18)?]
8. Let him who is thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall; restore such a one. For Mark's detractors to sniff "Good riddance" is sin and un-Biblical.  Renew and restore all, including Mark. [Already? It's time to talk about restoring Driscoll, already? To what? After what process? After assuring ourselves of what, and how? Should repentance play a part in restoration? Shouldn't we be talking about what repentance looks like (— like this, and this, and this, and this) before moving on to restoration?]

I'm not reassured to see that Piper thinks these are the main lessons he should learn from this. He did not already know these things? If not, what would he have done differently, knowing them?

Here are the lessons I'd like to suggest might be more helpful to learn from this. Were I someone whose judgment meant anything to John Piper, I'd be putting this before him:

1. To whom much given, from him much is required (Lk. 12:48; Jas. 3:1). Piper should have been much, much slower to extend his good reputation to someone with such a genuine and palpable cloud around him (1 Ti. 5:22, 24). Piper made a mistake. I have no trouble believing that it was good-hearted and well-intentioned, but it was a mistake. I think it he should own it, not double-down about it. That would serve him and the church better.
2. To turn a deaf ear to wise and godly counsel, as Piper did, is not wise (Pro. 11:14; 12:15; 15:22; 26:12).
3. Widen your circle and get out of your bubble. The echo-chamber clearly did not get the word through to Piper. They did not serve him well. So I'll just say it, and take the hate that will come: what if Piper had read Pyro? What if he'd really thought about what (for instance) Phil Johnson was writing, years ago? What if Piper were to say, "Someone pointed me to this blog nobody'd ever told me of, it's called Pyromaniacs. Years ago, Phil Johnson and others warned that exactly this would happen. I wish I'd been reading and listening; I've learned I need to widen my circle among those sharing my core convictions but seeing things differently. I regret that I didn't do that then, and urge others not to repeat my mistake." Would that be constructive, specific, and perhaps admonitory to others who keep making the same sorts of errors?
   
4. Re-think your enabling of Charismaticism. And then withdraw it. If you had read this (and additional comments like this and this), and had thought it through, you would have seen. Please, please consider what I am about to say very slowly and very seriously: there is a very short and straight line between (A) thinking God tells you stuff He tells no one else, yet (B) taking no responsibility and accepting no consequences for your claims to such revelation, and (C) abusive, egotistic, narcissistic, damaging leadership. History's told many such tales, and you just witnessed another firsthand. With such rotten fruit, shouldn't the tree be reassessed?
5. Force yourself to admit the extent of the damage caused.

I don't begrudge Piper's befriending Driscoll, for my part. I have been befriended by men much, much, much better than I. Thank God for them. I feel like they're all slumming, having me for a friend. So what I do is (A) I try to learn all I can from them, and (B) I try not to make them regret their friendship.

So what I am sad about is Driscoll abusing the friendship Piper extended. And what I particularly regret is that Piper simply is not admitting the extent of the bad public decisions he made, the damage that resulted, and the utter preventability of the whole thing.

Which simply assures more iterations. And does nothing to correct the specific situation we're discussing.

Thus endeth the post that, of all my many posts, I probably most hated having to write. I hope it does someone some good, for the sake of Christ's name and church.

---

Love, love, love — hey, listen!

by Dan Phillips

Last Sunday I got to launch a series I've been excited about ever since I settled on it. Before, actually. It's in the book of Ephesians.

Yeah, I know; and actually I resisted it. I thought about preaching this, and I thought about teaching that; but I kept coming back to Ephesians as containing a storehouse of what I thought would best serve my dear ones here at CBC. So I finally yielded, and with the yielding came a measure of peace and a lot of excitement.

The first sermon served as an intro to Ephesus and the impact of the Gospel thereon, and was titled The Lifecycle of a Work of God. Let me just lift out (in a different way) one theme that struck me anew and afresh, even after having studied Ephesians for 470 years.

I take it that the letter was actually written to churches in Ephesus (as I'll develop a bit this coming Sunday, DV). That fact leads to a really interesting thread. To wit:

Paul first comes by Ephesus in autumn of 52 AD (Acts 18:18-21). He's on his way somewhere else, but as a good soul-fisherman he can't resist dropping in a line to see what happens. Instantly he gets a couple of hard strikes, and resolves to come back if he can.

Come back he does, for an extended stay, around 53-56 AD. Paul's ministry there is very effective and very fruitful, and probably leads to the planting of the seven churches of Revelation (cf. 19:10). Then he departs, only to call a pastors' retreat for the Ephesian elders, and urge them to serve, feed, and guard the flock as he had (Acts 20:16-38; Spring 57 AD).

Just a few years later, 61-62 AD, Paul writes them this magnificent letter. Among the themes he stresses (as I mean to show Sunday) is love — God's love for us, our love for each other, our love for God. In fact, you'll note that the last note in the letter is just that: "Grace be with all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with love incorruptible" (6:24).

Then a few years after that, he writes his apprentice Pastor Timothy, whom he had especially tasked to remain at Ephesus (1 Tim. 1:3). And in writing Timothy, what does the apostle identify as the core emphasis of his ethical instruction? "The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith" (v. 5).

Do you know where I'm going next? After 1 Timothy, did Ephesus disappear from the Canon? Not at all. Our Lord Jesus dictates a letter to them as the first of seven, in Revelation 2:1-7. He wants them to know that He is glad to see their action, their hard work, their persistence, their doctrinal purity (vv. 1-3). He only has one problem, one concern — but it's a serious one. So serious that, despite all the other pluses, if they don't rectify this, He'll remove their lampstand.

What's the problem? You know what it is: they have abandoned their first love (v. 4).

My point here isn't to do an exegesis of that verse, as I do to a degree in the sermon. My point is the simple theme:

1. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul stresses love.
2. In his letter to a pastor of the Ephesians, Paul stresses love.
3. When Jesus needs to upbraid the Ephesians, it is for having left their first love.

But what is even more interesting is the connection. The very last words of Ephesians, rendered very literally, are "Grace with all those who love our Lord Jesus with incorruptibility." Who love Jesus, that is, with a love that doesn't degrade, doesn't break down. Then Paul reminds Timothy to keep up that theme. (We could stick in here that tradition says the apostle John served in Ephesus; and what was a big theme of his? Yep.)

But then fast-forward, and what has happened? The Ephesian Christians' love has degraded. It has broken down. And that, despite repeated apostolic warning.

We can marvel at Paul's pastoral heart and foresight, and at his proactive ministry. We can also marvel at the obtuseness of this people, who'd had the blessing of what we'd all agree is just about the best pastoral care that any group of churches has ever had.

But what it leaves me with is the painful desire I feel for those I have served, whether as a pastor or as a father. You can see an issue coming at someone you love, see it with crystal-clarity. You can be pro-active. You can plead, instruct, warn, urge, thunder and weep.

But without faithful reception, even the most urgent transmission of truth only ends up being another bit of evidence in the final judgment

"He who has ears, let him hear."

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In praise of small churches — and yet...

by Dan Phillips

I stumbled on an article titled Four Unexpected Benefits of a Small Church, by a church-member named Jonathan Schindler. He develops four "unexpected benefits and opportunities" that are "specifically related" to the smallness of his church, which has shrunk from 150 to the 70-90 range. They are:

1. Being in a small church has forced me to be in community.
2. Being in a small church has forced me to serve.
3. Being in a small church has forced me to reckon with diversity.
4. Being in a small church has offered opportunities I might not otherwise have had.

Most know that I on principle oppose megachurches, though in recent years I've grown a little wobbly. To be specific: Valerie and I got to talk to people serving at Grace Community Church, and were exposed to the many, many ways they leverage their greater resources to serve, disciple, love, care, and reach out. We agreed: "If you're going to be a big church, this is the way to do it."

That perhaps is a topic for another day; now let's get back to the small church, as Schindler describes it, and get to my own points. I would say three things, to get us going:

1. I basically agree with Schindler's enumeration, and could expand it myself. However...
2. If you want to make your pastor's blood run cold, and you want to set him to wondering whether he should move on, tell him you're really happy that your church is staying small, and signal that you'll be just as happy if it never, ever grows.
3. The content-to-stay-small attitude can be every bit as poisonous and God-dishonoring as the we-must-add-numbers-at-all-costs attitude.

Perhaps what I want to say can be best expressed as yet another list:

1. If you think that verses like Matthew 28:18-20; Acts 6:7; 12:24; 13:49; 19:20; Colossians 1:6; 1 Thessalonians 1:2-5, 8-9; 2 Thessalonians 3:1; 2 Tim. 2:9 and others all describe goals and values and events for a distant and fading past, as relevant to us today as tongues and prophecies, feel good about staying small.
2. If there aren't any unbelievers or mis-taught, untaught, immature believers living with ten miles of your church, feel good about staying small.
3. If the Gospel isn't anything you think your neighbors need, and you think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.
4. If you feel like you have a note from God excusing you from finding ways to reach out with the Gospel, feel good about staying small.
5. If you haven't learned the Gospel well enough to explain it to anyone else, and you don't want to learn the Gospel well enough to explain it to anyone else, and you think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.
6. If you just don't want to have to learn more names and think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.
7. If you just don't want to have to accommodate people with different tastes, temperaments, and preferences than you, and you think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.
8. If your pastor doesn't really preach anything anyone needs to hear, feel good about staying small.
9. If it doesn't matter to you that your church dies when the current crop of 50-to-80-year-olds dies, feel good about staying small.
10. If the sight of cults and false teachers growing like weeds while the truths you cherish lie unheard and unloved doesn't matter to you, and you think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.
    
11. If you just don't want to have to deal with different skin-colors, and cultures, and accents, and ways of dressing, and hair-cuts, and jewelry, and educational level, and you think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.
12. If you just don't want to have to deal with babies, and children, and teens, and singles, and people in their 20s and 30s who don't have it all together yet, and you think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.
13. If you've got your church crafted exactly to mirror all your wants and your preferences and your styles and your opinions, and you don't want to risk any of that being challenged, and you think that's okay with God, feel good about staying small.

I want to be as plain as I possibly can be:

• Not one syllable of anything I just wrote should make any pastor or church member feel bad or inferior or self-reproachful about the bare fact of his church's relative smallness. It is perfectly possible for a church to be small precisely because it is being faithful to God (cf. 2 Tim. 4:1-4; cf. John 6:66).
• The only people who should feel a sting from what I just wrote are those content with not growing, not striving, not reaching out, not evangelizing, not making disciples, not penetrating his community, and not being impelled by love for God and man to get out of his comfort-zone — including saints who believe in outreach in theory, and think other people really should be getting on with it.
  
• I do not think a church should grow to be as big as it possibly can.
• Once a church gets beyond the point where shepherds can know sheep and where real fellowship is happening (Jn. 10:3, 11, 14; Galatians 6:2; 1 Thess. 5:11; Heb. 3:13; 10:24-25), they should plant other churches with their own apprenticed in-person on-site flesh-and-blood pastors. Then rinse, and repeat. Multiply Biblically-faithful, Christ-centered, Gospel-preaching, Bible-teaching churches.
• If a church is surrounded by unbelievers, and yet never or seldom baptizes converts, never or seldom takes in and loves and disciples not-there-yet believers, never or seldom grows outside of a narrow age/culture range, then every leader and every member should cry to God day and night for the spread of the Gospel, and that church should leave no legitimate stone unturned in its seeking for effective ways to reach out with the Gospel.

I think this should be the attitude of every member and every leader: If our church does not grow at all, God grant that it be despite our best and unceasing efforts and most earnest and continual prayers — and not ever greeted with smug complacency.

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Pastoral ministry: a call for Biblical thinking

by Dan Phillips

(See what I did there?)

The notion that pastor's are "called" to ministry is so enmeshed in evangelical culture that it is common for writers not even to bother attempting a Biblical demonstration of the idea. Consider this article as an example, with its list of categorical statements attended by nary a single warranting verse.

As I've already shown, the "call" model is without Biblical warrant. Not that the Bible says nothing, it just says something perfectly clear and quite different. Though I thought that article was clear enough, some of the same questions keep being asked, so we'll try to clear them up here, in two steps.

The Biblical model. "Pastors and teachers" are listed among the gifts of the ascended Christ (Eph. 4:11), though that passage gives no further clues about identifying pastors. The fullest treatment comes in 1 Timothy 3:1ff., which actually tells us all we need to know. It gives three lines of qualification.

1. Desire. Paul uses two verbs to denote the desire a gifted man has in 1 Tim. 3:1. They combine to indicate that the man will yearn for the office, will strongly desire it. He'll be driven from within — not because he's idle, not because his dad did it, not because it looks like fun, but because he needs to do it. The first pastor who trained me said something I dismissed at the time, though later I came to see the wisdom in it. "Gentlemen," he used to say, "if you can be happy doing anything else, do it."
2. Doctrine. Desire isn't enough. The man has to know his stuff. Unlike a deacon, the overseer must be able to teach (1 Tim. 3:2). Paul expands in writing to Titus, saying that an overseer must be able to identify and shut down false doctrine, and must be able positively to teach sound doctrine (Titus 1:9ff.). Not only must he be doctrinally sound, he must be doctrinally authoritative, in representing the Word of God and in guarding against error.
3. Devoutness. Desire and doctrinal knowledge must be adorned by a godly character. Only so does the man show that he understands and believes what he teaches, and can serve as a faithful, reliable overseer for others. Both 1 Timothy 3 and Titus give the particulars.

So there it is: an internal motivation on the level of desire, confirmed by theological soundness and holiness of character.

Why not just call that a "call"? One good brother said it doesn't matter what we label it, we end up the same place. I couldn't agree less, for two reasons:

1. Sufficiency of Scripture. The contrary position amounts to "Okay, okay, the Bible doesn't exactly teach the pastoral 'call'... but we've always called it that, so what's the diff?" Well, the "diff" is that God has given us everything for which we need a divine word in Scripture, and we are supplementing it as if He did not. We're improving on a Scripture that doesn't need our improvements. It's a bad idea, it sets a bad precedent, and sends a bad message.
2. The mystical mystique. Introducing the unbiblical notion of a "call" takes us out of the Biblical realm of desire tested by discrete evidences, into the realm of the God card. If an authority figure (another pastor) imagines that he hears another man's "call," he could push him into preaching, unqualified — of which I've heard story after story after story. Or the man (or woman!) can insist that the divine call takes precedence over everything else, and on that strength step into an office to the ruination both of himself and of his hearers.

In close, let me just do that thing I do. I know, as sure as Obama's already planning his next vacation, that people will have read this, will have no specific Biblical response, and will say "I just don't see any reason not to call it a 'call.'" 

To that, I can only reply, "Well then, you can't object if I call it a hamburger."

You're welcome!

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7 Things Ain't Nobody Got to Teach Me

by Clark Briscoll

OK: this is not a break in my hiatus.  What this is, is my poking around in the blog archives trying to find a post which I can convert into a bible study for a situation I have volunteered for at church tomorrow.  I actually did have something in the archive which I found useful and sufficient, but I also found this post which never made it out of draft status, and which is probably funnier in retrospect than it would have been when I originally wrote it in 2013.

It's all inside baseball, but you guys are fans.  You'll get it immediately, and if not I blame myself for being on Hiatus so long.

Still on Hiatus.  Sorry.

Enjoy.

File this under: Church Church Leadership Wisdom Calling Church History Stewardship

Recently, I have just come off my 18-month probation for making a new friend in a new market demographic -- something we used to call "missional," but which some people insist on calling being "unequally yoked," but which was obviously just a case of old, white guys being unable to take a seat at the back of the bus, if you see what I'm saying.  But, because they all played nice with me when my new books came out since then, and were very fair and balanced in promoting my books for sale to their market demographics, I forgive them.

While I have learned much from their good tidings and secret chidings, and I'm not afraid to say so, there are seven lessons that ain't nobody needed to teach me which I think are critical for you to learn if you're going to continue to be someone who wears my t-shirts and endorses my books.  They are all center-bound around an idea which Eugene Peterson once had: "Wonder can't be packaged."

1. TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS

Listen: when God has called you to something, obviously He's the one in charge of your success.  So just do whatever occurs to you, and then you can be sure that He will at least send you visions of sex and violence when there's nothing else to be said.  Also: there's nobody like you, babe.

2. YOU DON'T HAVE TO MOVE IF YOU SYNDICATE

Seriously now - there comes a time when there's nobody left to reach after you have thrown all the gospel-reduced nay-sayers out for everything from disagreeing with your language to making sound points about Biblical ethics which would force lesser men to quit or at least take a sabbatical to reorganize their lives.  If you syndicate, and only see people video video screen (meaning: they only see you once a week, and you never have to see them), that's a plush gig.

3. TEACH YOUR INSTINCTS

It's a well-known fact that nothing works like a Ponzi scheme except a Ponzi scheme -- and the only way to really multiply fruitfulness is to let other people in for a taste.  Again, when God has verbally told you that you're his guy, who can lay a finger on God's anointed?

4. POPULARITY IS STILL A COMMODITY AFTER HIGH SCHOOL

The trick of course is to turn popularity into something that other people think they are getting by being close to you.  Especially the guys who always have been and always will be the bookish kind who hang out in the library.  If they think that they can be as popular as you are by hanging out with you?  That can be monetized.  You might even get to be a best-selling author with their help.

5. IF YOU CAN GET PEOPLE TO BLURB YOU, WRITE

That's just common sense after #4 - no sense hanging out with the Library squad if they are not pulling their weight.  Your face and rep might be enough to move product, but nothing says "ECPA award" like the endorsements of old guys who think they can finally reach the young people.

6. RETIREMENT IS FOR LOSERS

"Retirement" ought to be a code-word for "collecting the royalties."  That is, at some point, you are the brand, and all you have to do is show up to collect the paycheck.  And why wouldn't you do that?  Do I have to remind you that God called you verbally?

7. ENJOY THE RIDE

It's a good gig if you can get it.  There's no sense in worrying yourself to death over stupid things like homeschool moms and seminary presidents.  I'm personally going to keep the top down, crank the music loud, and blame my wife when I'm not happy in our marriage.  I have nothing to do all day but smile and wave.

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When "I tried that" is a problem

by Dan Phillips

[NOTE: to avoid having to fiddle with pronouns, I'll use the standard generic "he"/"his"/"him" throughout.]

Hearing a person in a troubled marriage say "I tried _____" raises a red flag of concern to me.

Why? Surely all the person is doing is sharing his frustration, his disappointment, his hurt. It isn't necessarily a claim of self-righteousness, or an attempt to build a case against his wife. He isn't necessarily trying to make me think he's the good guy, and she's the bad evil vixen. Oh, it can be any or all of those things; but not necessarily.


So I will of course start talking about ways to implement what Scripture says to do, and he will say, "I tried that."

And that's a problem.

How? How can "I tried X" a problem? If a doctor said "Take two ibuprofen" or "Have a hot bath," and the patient had already done so without any relief, wouldn't "I tried that" be the perfect answer? Isn't it both honest and diagnostically helpful?

In this case, no. It is helpful, but it is not a good sign. It is helpful, in that I've come to see it often as a clue to how the person approaches marriage, and his role in it.

Here's the reality: as I remarked more times than I can count when teaching on the Biblical doctrine of marriage,

"Marriage is like being a Christian
 — only more so." 

In other words, everything I am called to be as a Christian, I am called to be in my marriage. I am called as a Christian to love, to be patient and longsuffering, to be gracious and kind, to be ready to forgive, to be devoted to serve the other for his good. I'm called to seek to embody these graces towards all.

But in just about every relationship I have, if tension arises, I can walk away. I can go home, I can go to bed, I can get distance from the locus of the tension. For that matter, I could move to the other side of the globe from it. And I'm not called by God to be everyone's close friend. It isn't a moral obligation.

None of which is true with marriage.

With marriage, I have all the same obligations, and more — and it's 24/7/365, it's right up there in my face, and I can't simply walk away if it gets rough.

But go back to other relationships. What is God's command to us, for those relationships? Are we called to "try" loving each other? Then, if it doesn't work, we stop, complain, do something else instead? Are we called to "try" being patient, kind, devoted to their good? How about our relationship with God? Are we to "try" holiness, see if it works for us or not? Righteousness? Faith?

You all know the answer: "Of course not." These aren't methods offered to us on a trial-basis, for us to test-drive and evaluate, then reject or embrace depending on outcome. It's not a negotiation. These attitudes and actions are our lives, as Christians. We're called to grow this fruit, period (Gal. 5:22-23). If Paul could say there is no law against such graces (Gal. 5:23b), he could not say there is no law calling for them. This is what we are called to be, not to "try."

So: God doesn't call me to "try" loving my wife as Christ loved the church as a tactic. He doesn't call me to run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes. He doesn't invite me to see how that whole love-my-wife-like-Christ business works out, then to keep it up or drop it, depending on whether it "works." He doesn't call spouses to try not gossiping and complaining about each other. He doesn't call wives to try being respectful and submissive, any more than He calls children to try honoring their parents — or believing in Christ.

And so I say it is a red flag, because I've found that it often is a symptom. It may indicate that the spouse holds as the paramount value — not glorifying God and enjoying Him forever, but — being treated as he believes he deserves. That is the first and great unwritten commandment. So when his wife doesn't treat him as he deserves, that's wrong. She needs to change. But she doesn't want to. How to get her to change?

Well, he could try various things. He might yell at her. Or he might freeze her out. Or he might ignore her. Or he might talk her down to others.

Or, if he's really pious, he might "try" loving her.

See what I did there? The objective is to get her to behave right. (And, for the record, she should: she should love him and honor him, and do her best to make him glad he's married to her.) In pursuit of that objective, he tries various things. This tactic, that tactic... God's commands might even be among those things he tries — in pursuit of his objective: getting her to treat him right.

So here comes the obvious rub. What if it "doesn't work"? What if she's still a merciless shrew? Well, he tried, you see? It didn't work. So he has to try something else. Like complaining about her to everyone who will listen. Like self-pity. Like growing increasingly bitter and resentful. Like wearing the martyr's robes for everyone to see. Like trying to get kids and friends to see her as he does, see how bad she is and how nobly he suffers.

Suppose, though, he realized that being a Christian who actually practices what he professes — which is, after all, what we're talking about, right? — isn't something you "try." It's something you do, come what may, and God helping you, you don't let all the powers of Hell stop you. Much less a grumpy, sharp-tongued, ungrateful spouse.

What then, when his wife responds to his love with contempt, scorn, or even abuse? What if his coming close to love and serve her just gives her a better and crueller shot at him? What then?

Let me ask you: Does the Bible say anything about how Christians should respond to verbal abuse? To ingratitude? To false accusations? Anything in there at all? Anything? Bueller?

I'll wait for the light-bulbs to finish flashing on.

See, marriage in that regard is not  a different category of life, as if I need to treat other people by unchanging standards, but my wife is different. It isn't as if I have 66 books of direction for all my relationships, but only a few chapters that apply to relating to my wife. She's only different in that she will always be there for me to practice these graces, and I can't walk away if it gets rough.

Because being married is like being a Christian.

Only more so.

And in that life, what gets "tried" is us and our faith (1 Peter 1:7) — not God's commands.

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The sufficiency of Scripture and preaching

by Dan Phillips

Last week I launched a few Tweets on a theme I've hit in the past and mean to develop more in the near future. You may have heard of it: the sufficiency of Scripture.

The specific point I was making was that, if we really believed it, we'd start there, rather than making stuff up and then testing it by Scripture. Here was one of my tweets:

If we rly believed in th sufficiency of Scripture, we'd start with Scripture in the first place — not start somewhere else and "test by Scr"
— Dan Phillips (@BibChr) May 2, 2014

Someone who doesn't follow my account (and thus understandably may not "get" where the shorthand of my tweet was coming from) responded, "So then why do we hear sermons in church instead of just Scripture readings?"

I take it that the idea is, if Scripture is enough, why say anything else? Why not just stand up and read it, and be good with that?

The question itself makes my brain itch. But the calmer DJP says "Teaching opportunity!" so, here we go.

The truth of the sufficiency of Scripture means that Scripture contains everything for which we need a word from God. That's what it does mean. It doesn't mean that, whenever we have a need, we whip out a Bible and read a passage at random without a moment's thought (before or after), and call it good.

The life of faith and obedience that the Bible (the Bible, the words in the Bible, the contents of what Scripture teaches) calls us to means that we read it, study it, understand it, think about it, and apply it.

So here's this "church"-thingie. What's it for? What am I supposed to look for in it? Who leads it? If I'm one of those leader-people, what am I supposed to do?

From what Scripture teaches me, I should start with the assumption that I don't have one clue, no idea whatever — unless I get that idea from Scripture itself. (If you're not clear on why that is, I can recommend something that goes to the literal heart of the matter in great Biblical detail.) So I consciously set aside my assumptions and biases and preferences, and go to the Bible, God's Word, believing that it contains everything for which I need a word from God.

So, let's fast-forward through decades of study and all, and get to the bottom-line: if Scripture is sufficient, then why do we preach sermons, in church?

Because that sufficient Scripture tells us to. See, for instance, 1 Timothy 3:2; 4:13; 5:17; and 2 Timothy 4:1-2; Titus 1:9.

See? That's how it works. It won't teach anyone who is unteachable — nothing does that. But it does give us everything for which we need a word from God.

Like to hear that opened up even further, live and in person? I know this conference that's coming up. We'd love it if you came!

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Repentance: unrepentant reminders

by Dan Phillips

Repentance is a Topic right now. In itself, that's a good thing. Repentance should be a constant topic in the lives of Christians — not just a constant topic, but a constant reality.

At the moment, I don't want to make a direct comment on the current issue that's brought this to the fore, and readers really shouldn't infer such from what follows.

Instead, I'd like to remind Pyro readers (and inform others) of how our readers have had the opportunity to be prepared to analyze and process such events Biblically, analytically — and not simply emotionally, whether by bitter and accusatory emotions, or chummy and exculpatory emotions.

In October of 2010 an article titled Repentance: fake and real laid down some cautionary warnings about imitations that can pose as real repentance, while withholding the actual cure itself.

Two days later a followup article titled The fruits of repentance keyed off of that very phrase, which is itself Biblical, and discussed the most commonly missing element in purported repentance: the productive element of repentance, the transformative, mortifying, and thus liberating element in repentance.

Just over a year later I wrote what I refer to as one of my Most Regrettably-Ignored Posts, Ever. Blogging is weird; some posts concerning which I had no particular expectations (like this and this) became huge things; while others of which I had large aims and expectations were virtually ignored.

One of the chief posts in this latter category was T. D. Jakes (and the like) Part Two: thinking clearly about repentance. Unlike later celebrated articles, this was written before the Elephant Room 2 disaster. Had the ideas in the post been broadcast and made the issue, a lot of damage and harm could have been averted.

Ironically, that post involved Mark Driscoll; and as it turned out, involved Driscoll a great deal. Driscoll was the Big Dog who was looked to to give a clean bill of health to T. D. Jakes... which Driscoll pretty much did. So much so, that anyone who didn't hop on-board was a racist.

If the thinking about repentance in this article had been made an issue to Driscoll before the fact, so that these questions and issues could not have been ignored, things might have gone very differently.

But they weren't, and they didn't, respectively.

So here we are again: repentance is an issue, and clarity is a need.

And so once again, I do what I can.

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