Category Archives: The Church

Because He Bled

We are gathered at this Table in a world that has been fundamentally transformed by the resurrection of Jesus. The world can never be the same as it was before because this is a world in which a man has come back from the dead. And so we believe in the resurrection, we declare and preach it, and we number it as being among the things that are of first importance.

But at this weekly meal, we commemorate and memorialize the death of Jesus. This is His body, broken on the cross. This is His blood, shed on the cross. And Paul tells us that as often as we eat and drink, we declare the Lord’s death until He comes.
In this meal, we participate in a living Christ, an alive Christ, a resurrected Christ. He would be no Savior at all had He not risen, and if He were not at the right hand of the Father. We ascend to Him there, in the power of the Spirit, as we partake of Christ. But it is the very fact of this life that enables us to extend the power of His death, the efficacy of His death, and offer it to a defiled world.

What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Jesus died once in history, and we can say that He died once for all because He is risen. Because He is risen, He can apply the potency of His blood to those who were not to be born for two thousand years after the death of Jesus. That death, two thousand years ago, is applied to you, here, now, because He has given gifts to men. One of those gifts is His Spirit, and He is the one who applies that remedy to your sore.
Because He bled, He can stop your bleeding. Because He was broken, He can bind up what is broken in you. Because He died, He is the remedy. Because He lives, He can apply it.

So come . . . in faith. Come, in gratitude. Come, with as many needs as you might have. So come, and welcome, to Jesus Christ.

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Not a Trickle

As we watch our culture disintegrate, seemingly in fast forward, we must guard ourselves against the contortions of unbelief. Whatever is currently happening, unbelief is always able to turn that into an argument for remaining in unbelief.

Before the decay of our culture was well-advanced, unbelief was always able to say “it is not that bad,” and dismiss the prophetic seers in our midst as cranks and misfits. But now that the problem is obvious to pretty much everyone, the voice of unbelief is immediately at our elbow whispering that the situation is so bad as to be hopeless. Too hot, too cold, and never just right.

The gift of reformation and revival is not a matter of past trajectories. We worship and serve a God who declares things that are not as though they were. We serve a God who gives a promised child to an old woman, barren her whole life. We serve a God whose declared intention is to save the world. We serve a God who raises the dead.

Whenever something remarkable happens in history, after the fact any competent historian can demonstrate how inevitable it all seems to us now. But Monday morning quarterbacking, however penetrating it is, is not faith. Faith is what overcomes the world, John tells us, and not astute analysis after the fact.

And so we gather, but we do not want to gather in our unbelief. We do not assemble as a collection of people with a spiritual hobby. This is not the weekly meeting of our club. In Christ Jesus, we are the new humanity, together with all His people all over the globe, and nothing whatever can be done to stop the growth and expansion of this new humanity, until the earth is as full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. His purpose in this is an inundation, not a trickle.

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Not Counting Rocks

I have said in other contexts that the Pauline requirements for ministry are character qualifications, and as such they are not analogous to the operation of counting rocks.

Though we are discussing the requirement of godly family management, let me illustrate the point with one of the other qualifications, also having to do with family. Paul says that an elder must be a one-woman-man. This sounds great, but what do we mean. Ever? It is obvious that we must draw a line at some point, and the first thing to do is admit this fact to ourselves. If we do not admit it, we will still draw that line, but the fact that we have done so will be invisible to us, and it will be entirely arbitrary.

For example, say that a man has been presented as a candidate for elder, and he has been married to the same woman, happily, for the last thirty years. But, when he was a young man, before he was a Christian, he was married to someone else who left him and divorced him after six months. This fact will be an item for discussion in his elder candidacy (as it should be). The question will be whether or not this man qualifies as a one-woman-man. Fine.

But suppose there is another candidate who slept with twenty-one women before his conversion, but was enough of a jerk not to marry any of them. He too is happily married now, and his past is treated in the elder election as a matter of irrelevance. But Paul doesn’t say “one-woman-man in marriage.” He says one-woman-man.

Now if you think you are counting rocks instead of evaluating character you will soon be at a point where you are not even able to count the rocks. You will think that the gold sanctifies the altar, and not the other way around. You will disqualify a man for being with two women in his life, and allow a man who has been with twenty-two women.

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Moons and Sun

“At thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore” (Ps. 16: 11)

The Basket Case Chronicles #122

“Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ. Now I praise you, brethren, that ye remember me in all things, and keep the ordinances, as I delivered them to you” (1 Cor. 11:1-2).

Paul mentions a common biblical theme here, which is that we learn by imitation. The things we really know how to do are those things that we picked up by copying others. Paul was imitating Christ, and he wanted the Corinthians to imitate him as he was doing this. There is a false piety that strives for originality, and lands in mind-numbing conformity. There is an obedience that seeks to imitate, and the results are strikingly original. A moon facing the sun can shine its own distinct glory. A moon that wants to be a sun is going to do a very poor job of it.

But notice also that Paul moves effortlessly from “remember me in all things” to “keep the ordinances” as they had been delivered or entrusted to the Corinthians. As the subsequent discussion in this chapter shows, those ordinances had to do with things like a right relationship between the sexes in public worship, and proper comportment in the Lord’s Supper. Note that Paul does not assume any tension between the personal activity of remembering and imitating a person, and what some might call the impersonal activity of keeping the ordinances delivered by that person.

Paul has said that we are to imitate him as he imitates the Lord. Well, the Lord said that if we loved Him, we would keep His commandments (John 14:15). Paul looks at Jesus, and imitates Him—and tells the Corinthians the very same thing. He says remember me, and keep the ordinances.

And this is why we must understand the widespread disregard for the Pauline ordinances in our day as nothing less than personal contempt for the apostle. Sometimes attempts are made to disguise that contempt, and sometimes not.

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A Reasonable Expectation

One of things we need to do in our discussion of family qualifications for ministry is examine some of our background assumptions. As with many other issues, our understanding of Paul’s requirement here (1 Tim. 3:2-5; Tit. 1:5-6) is affected not only by what the text clearly says, but by the eyes we bring to the text. What we see is sometimes a function of what is there to be seen, and other times a function of how good our eyesight is. There are times when certain assumptions about what the text “could not possibly be saying” will shape what we allow it to say to us.

One of those background assumptions (for moderns) is individualism. Now of course God did create us as distinct individuals, and we go to Heaven or Hell by ones. Moral responsibility is fundamentally located in the individual. But there is more to moral responsibility than that. Our lives are intertwined, and this is particularly the case when we are talking about parents and their children — Girard calls us interdividuals.

When we consider the scriptural examples, there are many instances of wayward children, which we will look at in due course. But one of the things we must do is look at what is exactly happening when that happens — and we are not left in the position of having to guess. Sometimes we are just told what happened (as when Jacob’s sons sinned over the rape of their sister). But other times, we are also told why — and not surprisingly, in certain cases, it was a matter of parental negligence.

Let’s look at a couple of specific examples, and then move on to some general statements that are made in Scripture about this.

In the period of the judges, an unnamed man of God once came with a message to Eli, chastising him for preferring to honor his sons over the Lord (1 Sam. 2:29). And in the next chapter, the first prophetic message that Samuel had to deliver was one of judgment to Eli, because his sons had “made themselves vile” and he had not restrained them (1 Sam. 3:13). Now it is true that Eli did eventually deliver a verbal rebuke, but that was plainly an instance of too little, and too late (1 Sam. 2:22-23).

Another example had to do with how David brought up his sons. Adonijah had a lot going for him, but one of his problems was that David had never crossed his will. “And his father had not displeased him at any time in saying, Why hast thou done so?” (1 Kings 1:6). Keep in mind that David’s sons were also priests — not in the public cult tended by the Levites, but probably within David’s palace (2 Sam. 8:18, ESV).

In these instances, Eli’s sons and David’s were clearly responsible for their own sin. They were responsible moral agents. But they had gotten into the position they were in because of what their father had not done in how he had brought them up. Their responsibility was individual, certainly, but it was not solitary. There was a shared responsibility in this, on the part of Eli and David.

We have already acknowledged the reality of certain exceptional cases. But we also have to remember that there are proverbial cases, general truths. For example, a son who is lazy during harvest is a son who brings shame (Prov. 10:5). Shame to whom? Clearly, the answer is that he brings shame to his parents. This is not a lazy man who brings shame to himself; he is a lazy son.

An industrious servant is going to be privileged in the inheritance over a son who causes shame (Prov. 17:2). Again, this is referring to shame coming upon the parents. And a son who is a wastrel is a son who brings shame (Prov. 19:26).

Now as already noted, individuals can certainly bring shame down on their own heads. It is shameful to answer a matter before you have heard it out (Prov. 18:13). To throw yourself into controversy hastily is shameful (Prov. 25:8). And of course, pride and haughtiness is a set up for shame (Prov. 11:2). But when the shameful person is being considered as a child, that shame is shared. And it is shared for a reason.

“The rod and reproof give wisdom: But a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame” (Prov. 29:15).

In the instances cited above, the shame comes to pass when the child is older. The shameful son is old enough to work the harvest, and doesn’t. He is old enough to receive an inheritance, and the servant gets it before he does. He is old enough to run up his parents’ credit card.

And in the examples from the households of Eli and David, the problems were adult problems, but the causes had been laid down many years before. A child left alone brings shame, and that leaving alone is something that can start happening as soon as the child is born and able to be left alone. Leave a two-year-old kid alone, and bad things start happening. What do you have to do to have a garden fill up with weeds? Well, nothing, as it turns out.

So, then, we want to avoid the charge of wooden legalism in this matter. A wooden legalist would be someone who cannot allow any sort of complication or exception. He thinks the law of God is made out of pressure-treated two by fours. But we must also acknowledge that God teaches us that it is generally true that a child who is brought up poorly is more likely to turn out poorly. To reason from the fact of some exceptions to a desire to have the proverbial wisdom never apply is to choose squishy relativism over wooden legalism. But the law of God is not made out of orange jello either.

The proverbs I have cited are proverbs. They are not “all triangles have three sides” kinds of statements. But proverbs are still generally true, or at least the the good ones are. A stitch in time usually saves nine. A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest, and once in a blue moon you win the lottery — but don’t count on it. You should count on something else.

Now because proverbs are generally true, we may be assured that a father like Eli, who has trouble confronting his sons, will have trouble confronting others in the church who need to be confronted. How the family is managed is, the apostle Paul teaches, a predictor of what you can expect within the congregation. To expect in one place what you saw in the other is a reasonable expectation.

Managing Mammon

Jesus set up a fundamental antipathy between God and Mammon. One way or the other, He said (Matt. 6:24). In another place, He said quite plainly that whoever does not give away all His possession cannot be His disciple (Luke 14:33). Look at your possessions, Jesus says, and if you want to be a disciple, kiss them good-bye. Say farewell.

Now here we are, gathered as a congregation of disciples. That is what our baptism declares, and that is what we profess to be. Are we making this profession in the teeth of the Lord who called us? Is stewardship of possessions disobedience?

Not at all. As we seek to understand this, and to obey it, what we must not do is dilute in any way the force of the Lord’s requirement. He is the revelation of the Father to us, and so we must not add to His words, and we must not take away from them. Whatever Jesus meant, we must do—all of us.

Jesus uses the word Mammon four times. Once is in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 6:24). Right before this, He had said that we must be laying up treasure in Heaven, not on earth. The treasure in Heaven cannot be robbed, and treasures down here can be. He then says that we cannot serve (douleuo) both God and Mammon. He then tells us His application, which we can see with His use of the word therefore. He says that we must not worry about our possessions, not that we may not have them. Indeed, Jesus assumes that we must have them, that we must use them. He says that our heavenly Father knows that we have need of all these things (v. 32). He then says that we are to seek first the kingdom, and these other things will be added. It is a matter of priorities, as tested and identified by the presence or absence of a slavish fear or worry.

The other place He uses the word Mammon is in the gospel of Luke (Luke 16:9-13), right after He told the parable of the unjust steward. He says that Christians ought to get a clue when it comes to finances, and learn how to make friends by using Mammon (v. 9). He goes on to say that we are summoned to be faithful in our use of Mammon (v. 11), treating it as a farm league wealth, where we are in training for the major leagues — where we will come to know how to handle real riches, permanent wealth.

So here are the two central indicators of a Mammon problem. First, are you a financial worrier? Jesus says no. And second, are you dedicated to the faithful use of Mammon as a temporary and battered scaffolding that we are using as we build the everlasting city, the one that is covered with eternal jewels?

Taking Heart at the Table

One of the things that God wants to do for you here at this Table is encourage you. This is a Table of thanksgiving, which you cannot properly offer when you are discouraged.

When we are discouraged, it is often because of affliction around us, or sin within us.

Affliction is God’s crucible, it is what God uses to purify His saints. To object to affliction is to object to that process of purifying. God removes the dross from the silver by means of smelting, and that means heat. You might like all your dross, and think you are doing quite well, considering. You are a rock in the rough, and the silver sparkles are obvious to anyone who knows you. But God refuses to leave you there. You want to be a rock with sparkles, while He intends an ingot, refined seven times. Hence the affliction, hence the smelting.

But what about sin within—including the sin of murmuring under the processes of smelting? What if you are discouraged because of that? Keep in mind that there is a difference between being defeated in the skirmish and defeated in the battle. You may have had a bad go of it. But is your weapon still in your hand? Are you here, worshiping the Lord? Do you want the next round to be better? Take heart. God has forgiven your sins, and His Spirit is with you here, teaching you to fight against the world, the flesh, and the devil more capably than you have done in the past.

So come, and welcome, to Jesus Christ.

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With Laces Untied

So let’s begin our work on this tough topic by getting two obvious things on the table.
The first obvious thing is that the apostle Paul teaches us that how a man behaves in his home is a predictor or indicator of how he will behave in the church. If you want a godly and competent leader in the church, then you need to look for a godly and competent leader in his home. The apostle couldn’t make his point plainer.

“For if a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the church of God?” (1 Tim. 3:5)

The word rendered rule here is proistemi, which means preside, rule, maintain. And the word used with regard to pastoral work is epimeleomai, which means to take care of, or provide for.

This is a simple if, then statement. If a man does not know how to do x, then he will not be able to do y. We will examine what that connection is later, but it should suffice for the present to show that there is such a connection. We should refuse to call a pastor based on certain realities in his home, and we should do this as a matter of obedience to God. If a pastoral candidate were not very good at racketball, or was not a competent hunter, or had never been hang-gliding, we would not be within our rights to say that obedience required us to reject him. There would not be a connection between these activities and the possibility of him being a good pastor, and there is a connection between him being a good father and being . . . a good father.

But the second obvious thing about this is that the world is a messy place, and that application of this qualification requires that we make judgment calls. Some of the judgment calls will be more difficult to make than others. This requirement is not like the requirement that our Constitution sets for the president being 35-years-old (Art. II). All you have to do to determine if the qualification is met is be able to count. Or to take an example from the Old Testament, the requirements for the priesthood were more objective and physical (Lev. 21:16-21), and therefore easier to check..

But what we must not do here is set these two obvious things at odds with each other. We must not assume that because there is a requirement that a man manage his household well, that there will never be difficulties in deciding what to do. Simplistic thinking is the badge of the legalist. But neither may we acknowledge that there will be hard cases, and conclude from this that the familial qualification is functionally meaningless. The requirement must be held as a real requirement — meaning that certain men are kept out of office because of it, and they are men who otherwise would be ordained to office.

So how do we balance these two things? There is a legal adage that says that hard or difficult cases make bad law. You should let the simple requirement drive the majority of your cases, and deal with your exceptional cases as they arise.

There is another adage that says that the exception proves the rule, but this adage is almost universally misunderstood. The phrase is frequently taken as the exception somehow establishing the rule, with the word proves taken in the sense of what you do to get to a conclusion in an argument. But the proverb was developed when the word prove had the meaning of test. The exception tests the rule.

Let me give you a made up example that will show how an exception can be made which tests, or honors, the rule, and then make up another example where it does nothing of the kind.

Say the congregation is considering a pastoral candidate, and it comes out in the interview that when he was 19, shortly before he became a Christian, he was shacked up with a girl for six months. She got pregnant and left him because she was a strident atheist and didn’t like the spiritual direction he was taking. He has had no legal recourse, and his son from that union was brought up as an atheist, and is one screwed up kid. After your candidate was converted, he finished college, went to seminary, and met his current wife while studying for the ministry. They married, and have five lovely children, all of whom love God, love Jesus, love their parents, and love church.

Now suppose you have another candidate, one who has five children, two of whom are sullen and disobedient. The other three might be okay, you think. But the two are bad attitudes with sneakers, laces untied. The pastoral candidate is the photo negative of the centurion in the gospels (Matt. 8:9). When the father saith come, the child goeth. When he saith go, the child cometh. When he says do this, the teen-ager doeth it not.

In the first example, the exception tests the rule — it makes you think hard about the rule, and it makes you see how the rule actually still applies. We are checking to see how this man manages the children he has, not how he was a father to a child he never had the opportunity to father. It is easy to see how the pastoral search committee could determine that his atheist son (whom he had met three times in his life) was not the kind of situation that the apostle Paul had in mind. With the children he has, the congregation can see how he rules in his household, and they can expect that he would take care of them on that basis.

But in the second situation, you can immediately see that the two exceptions were not instances that tested the rule — they were instances where the rule excluded the candidate. The bad things you saw in the household meant that if you called such a man, you should expect to see bad things in the church, bad things that were somehow related to his weakness in his home.

So the requirement in 1 Tim. 3:5 is clear, but requires wisdom to apply. And the application of wisdom should never be treated as though it were relativism.