After a year and a half of sprinting in my first pastorate, I felt drained.

For a while, I thought that was totally fine. Ministry is supposed to be hard, right? And as a single man, there was nothing stopping me from leveraging my singleness to serve others. To be clear, I do think the undivided devotion Paul speaks of in 1 Corinthians 7 enables me to flex and focus in special ways. But an undivided devotion is not an unlimited one.

As the fog of exhaustion encumbered my soul, I found it difficult to focus on my work and my flock. My attempt to run harder had me running on fumes. Being a single man didn’t change the fact that I am just a man.

Advice to singles often swings from exhortations to productivity (“you’ll never have this much free time in your life again!”) to sympathy (“trust God to help you through this season”). But what isn’t talked about as often is the need for single pastors to rest. This can be more difficult than you think.

Limited Energy 

Getting a smartwatch was a rude awakening. Mine tracks my sleeping, and I had told people that I was usually in bed by 11 p.m. and awake around 6 a.m. But my watch told a different story. The amount of time I was actually sleeping instead of doomscrolling or watching videos was around five to six hours.

My exhaustion had less to do with my day-to-day ministry load and more with my restlessness. You might say my “rest” wasn’t actually that restful. And by neglecting my rest, I was, in a sense, neglecting my work. Now I’m not saying there aren’t times where we have to embrace the long hours and chaos of ministry to address the needs of our people. But if that becomes our default rhythm, it’s possible that the primary cause of our fatigue isn’t the church’s problems but our own priorities. Like Martha, we may be “worried and upset about many things” (Luke 10:41) while neglecting the most important things.

This means we have a responsibility to guard the things that give us rest. Whether it’s our sleep, our private devotional life, or our days off, these gifts from the Lord are designed to refresh us and recharge us for the work we’ve been called to. It is not inherently selfish or lazy to take deliberate periods of rest.

Limited Perspective 

As with many things in the Christian life, the need for rest wasn’t anything that I didn’t know already. I’ve heard countless warnings and exhortations about it. But I lacked the perspective to see the long-term effects of my being constantly on the go.

Of course, this is a danger for all pastors, but single pastors face a unique challenge. Having a family can be like a mirror to a pastor’s soul as it allows you to see the effects of your work on your spouse and kids. But without those guardrails, we may be heading toward burnout with very little warning.

Those risks are compounded with the inner anxiety of feeling like we’re not doing enough. There’s always more to do—more calls to make, more books to read, more lessons to prepare, etc. A savior complex without intervention is a lethal combination.

That’s why we need thoughtful brothers and sisters who can give us honest feedback. That is, we need a spiritual family. And this is precisely what God has given us in the church. 1 Timothy 5:1–2 exhorts us to treat older men as fathers, younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters.

Who knows you well enough to know your limits? Who has permission to look at your schedule and your life and ask honest questions about how you’re doing?

Honest feedback helps me on two fronts. First, it helps expose areas of idleness. Gentle nudges have propelled me further than I would have gone on my own. Second, it helps me see when I need to pull back. And when I do decide to pull back, I can rest assured that it’s not a decision I’ve made in isolation. I’ve received the counsel of wise family members who know and love me.

For many single pastors, getting this kind of feedback will be something we have to intentionally cultivate. Whether it’s inviting our fellow pastors or church members to examine the rhythms of our life or pursuing mentors who can speak into our lives, we need the perspective of others.

Personally, I’ve confessed to church members that I’m close with when I’m lacking in commitment, energy, and encouragement. I’m so grateful that these saints have heard, loved, and prayed for me while pushing me to be more like Christ.

Embrace Your Limits 

When I asked Vaughn Roberts, himself a single pastor, what advice he’d give other single pastors, he said, “Be willing to tell your friends that you’re lonely.” Years of pastoral ministry had taught him to stop maintaining facades of strength and to embrace his limits.

A few months later, I found myself discouraged and tired, so I texted a few friends and asked for prayer. I also asked if anyone was free for dinner that evening, and an evening of melancholy was prevented by Christian fellowship. I wonder how many assaults from Satan would be thwarted if we were more willing to ask for help.

Embracing our limits isn’t an admission of defeat. It’s a recognition of reality. For it’s in our weakness that God’s power is made perfect (2 Cor. 12:9).

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“You speak with the voice of the Serpent.” “You preach the doctrine of demons.” Ouch. These are some of the criticisms I have received over the past twelve years of pastoral ministry. Of course, not all my critics have aligned me with Satanic forces of darkness. Much, if not most, of the criticism has been quite helpful for my growth and sanctification.

Anyone in a public office is going to face some level of criticism, and that includes pastors. Not everyone will agree with our decisions, our exegesis and applications, our actions, or our advice. And at times, our people will let us know why they think we’re wrong. Criticism is inevitable.

In a fallen world, ungodly criticism is also inevitable. Sometimes ungodly criticism will come our way from unregenerate people. I am convinced that the person who told me that I speak with the voice of the Serpent was one of those people. Such criticism from unbelievers is easier to handle. It can even be encouraging. Jesus himself said, “Woe to you, when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets” (Luke 6:26). People who love darkness hate the light (John 3:19–20). Criticism leveled against us from the domain of darkness is often a reminder that we are doing something right.

In this short article, I’m not going to address the ungodly criticism that comes from unbelievers. Instead, my aim is to help us think carefully and biblically about how to handle the ungodly criticism that comes from godly people—that is, fellow saints indwelt by the Spirit and loved by Christ. Such people still sin against each other and, at times, against us.

We should not expect that our people will always package their criticism with encouraging affirmations, deferential language, and balanced nuance. Sometimes they will bite. Sometimes their words will be intended to hurt. Sometimes they will falsely judge our motives. We should be ready for this kind of ungodly criticism lest, on the one hand, we become arrogant, untouchable, angry, and uncorrectable; or, on the other hand, discouraged, defeated, and afraid to lead. We don’t want to find ourselves like Elijah retreating to a “juniper tree” to wallow in self-pity (1 Kgs. 19:4, KJV). We want to receive ungodly criticism with humility, patience, resilience, and wisdom. Toward that end, I have four suggestions.

Genuinely Desire the Edification of the Criticizer 

Giving criticism is hard. Giving criticism in a mature, reasonable, dispassionate way is even harder. Let’s be honest, most of our members have not thought carefully about what it means to give and receive godly criticism before coming to us with a concern. People often bottle-up their frustrations internally, and when they finally talk about them, their passions get the best of them. Of course, I’m not excusing ungodly behavior. I’m simply making an observation that can help us be more compassionate and less defensive.

Even when we are the object of ungodly criticism, we must desire the spiritual good of the criticizer. As the apostle Paul wrote to the Christians in Rome, “We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up” (Rom. 15:1–2). He says something similar to Christians in Galatia: “Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness” (Gal. 6:1). These two passages are not addressing the exact same issue, but they both highlight a relevant principle: the “strong” and the “spiritual” should proactively work for the good of the “weak” and those “caught” in sin. A posture of the heart that genuinely desires the good of others is necessary for handling ungodly criticism.

We must also remember that we are under obligation as undershepherds not to please ourselves but to build up God’s people, including the criticizer. In other words, we need humility. Paul exhorted the “spiritual” among the Galatians not to become proud when restoring a brother or sister caught in sin: “For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself” (Gal. 6:3). Frustration and resentment grow in the soil of pride. If our hearts are proud, we will seek our own good instead of the good of the criticizer when his or her ungodliness is evident. We should ask ourselves: Do we care more about winning an argument than shepherding this person? Do we care more about justifying ourselves than helping a brother or sister grow in spiritual maturity?

Ungodly criticism often comes from Christians who do not yet exemplify mature Christian virtues, at least not in this particular area. We do believe that sanctification is progressive, after all. Even our harshest critic is loved by the Good Shepherd and has been given the same righteousness that justifies us, which means we need the grace of God as much as they do. Remain humble, then, and remember that the critic is not a hindrance to your ministry—he or she is your ministry. Your job is to work for their good. You and I will need wisdom to know when to push back and when to listen, when to bear patiently and when to confront and correct. But the aim is the same: to build them up in their walk with Christ.

Know Your People Well 

People have different personalities, struggles, weaknesses, hobbyhorses, influences, and interests. Before we let ungodly criticism cripple or calcify us, we should ask questions like: Does this person have a persnickety personality? Does he perceive himself to be the church’s theological watchdog with the spiritual gift of sniffing out heresy? Is she prone to emotional highs and lows? Does he come from an abusive home and have a history of unrighteous anger? Is she hypersensitive because the leaders of her previous church did her great spiritual harm? Is this person a new believer? Do they have a history of assuming motives?

Of course, recognizing the weaknesses or idiosyncrasies of others should not be an excuse to dismiss their criticism as illegitimate (more on this below), but it should help us respond to criticism with appropriate poise, maturity, and compassion. To be clear, we are not people pleasers, so we must not flatter or compromise the truth. However, knowing people well may help us discern whether someone simply needs to be heard or whether their criticism calls for a response. A wise and loving husband will not get drawn into a meaningless argument when he knows his wife has had a hard day. Likewise, a good pastor will not become overly affected by criticism if he knows the criticism is, in part, the fruit of other variables in that person’s life. Sometimes losing an argument is a win, and sometimes winning an argument is a loss.

Learn from the Criticism 

Just because criticism is given in an ungodly manner or with an ungodly motive doesn’t mean there is no truth in it. Pastors must be open to correction. We need the help of God’s Spirit to cultivate humility so that we do not think more highly of ourselves than we ought (Rom. 12:3). Like all members, we have our own idiosyncrasies, weaknesses, and blind spots. God may use clunky, and even ungodly, criticism to edify us.

The book of Proverbs reminds us repeatedly that the wise man learns from reproof, but fools despise correction:

• Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but he who hates reproof is stupid. (Prov. 12:1)
• The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice. (Prov. 12:15)
• The ear that listens to life-giving reproof will dwell among the wise. (Prov. 15:31)
• Like a gold ring or an ornament of gold is a wise reprover to a listening ear. (Prov. 25:12)

A wise pastor will not swiftly dismiss criticism because of the way it was packaged. Instead, he will give due consideration to the substance of the critique.

Brothers, let us not reject rubies because they are wrapped in toilet paper! Maybe God is using the exegetical watchdog in your church to keep you theologically precise. Maybe God is using the hypersensitive saint to help you grow in patience and gentleness. Maybe the church member wrongly impugned your motives, but did the critique reveal a weakness in your leadership? Next time you get criticized, even in an ungodly manner, ask yourself if the substance of the criticism is true or if there is something you need to learn from it. A plurality of elders is useful here, as faithful, mature brothers can help us discern if the criticism is justified or unfounded.

Stay Near the Cross

In his excellent article, “The Cross and Criticism,”Alfred J. Poirier, “The Cross and Criticism,” The Gospel Coalition, July 28, 2019, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/cross-criticism/. Alfred Poirier reminds us that the key to handling all types of criticism is “understanding, believing, and affirming all God says about us in the cross of Christ.” The cross simultaneously declares the heinousness of our sin and the reality of our forgiveness and justification in Christ. The cross has “criticized” us and “judged” us “more intensely, deeply, pervasively, and truly than anyone else ever could,” and yet the cross is also the rock-solid assurance of God’s love for us and the basis of our justification (Rom. 3:23–26). By understanding the meaning of the cross, we can rightly say with Poirier: “I do not fear man’s criticism, for I have already agreed with God’s criticism. And I do not look ultimately for man’s approval, for I have gained by grace God’s approval.”Ibid.

Meditating regularly on the gospel will prepare us to handle ungodly criticism without sniveling or sneering, but instead with humility, patience, resilience, and wisdom. In fact, how we respond to ungodly criticism might prove to be one of our most profound opportunities to emulate the love of Christ. For “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8). Christ reconciled us to God even while we were enemies (Rom. 5:10). We can work for the good of our criticizers because Jesus cared about the ultimate good of his crucifiers, and that includes you and me. 

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Paul T. Sloan, Jesus and the Law of Moses: The Gospels and the Restoration of Israel within First-Century Judaism. Baker Academic, 2025. 288 pages.

Scholars hope their work will receive a wide readership and have an impact on the status quo, but it’s often difficult to tell which works will make a splash. One recent work that fits that description is Paul T. Sloan’s Jesus and the Law of Moses: The Gospels and the Restoration of Israel Within First-Century Judaism (Baker Academic, 2025).

On one level, it is not difficult to understand why many have received Sloan’s work so warmly. Rather than boring and stilted academic writing, Sloan offers lucid prose with humor and personality. You almost want him to be right. The book breathes with eloquence and ease.

But Sloan’s strengths are not merely stylistic. He holds up Jesus as the interpreter of the Mosaic law and the one who restored Israel from exile. In the process, he provides insight after insight into Jesus’s handling of the law. However, the insights and eloquence are mixed with serious errors. Sloan’s analysis is problematic in its presentation of the law-gospel distinction, in its Christology, in its insistence on continued law-keeping for Jews, and in its denial of Christ’s death as a sacrifice of atonement. We will consider each of these shortcomings, but first we’ll highlight some of the book’s strengths.

Strengths of the Book 

Sloan’s thesis is that central to Christ’s ministry in the Synoptic Gospels is his role as the eschatological Messiah who comes to bring about the restoration of Israel. Christ is an authoritative interpreter of the law who adjudicates debates on how to apply the law’s ordinances in light of the eschatological Jubilee (see Lev. 25) he brings in with Israel’s restoration. If Sloan is right, then some of the more popular presentations of Jesus’s disputes with the Pharisees are misleading. Sloan takes umbrage, for instance, with the notion that Jesus’s criticism of the Pharisees is something like, The Pharisees love the law too much. Rather than minimizing or disparaging the law, Sloan insists that Jesus is often correcting the Pharisees’ misinterpretation of the law (whether that’s because they fail to recognize who he is, or because they fail to recognize the eschatological significance of his coming).

In other words, many of the showdowns between Jesus and the Pharisees are not debates between those who love the law too much (the Pharisees) and someone who loves God more (Jesus); rather, they are intramural debates between those who love the law yet disagree on how to interpret and apply it. According to Sloan, Christ’s main criticism of the Pharisees is not that they idolized the law but that they didn’t know “what time it was” and therefore didn’t interpret the law rightly. The eschatological restoration of Israel was upon them, but they were seeking to apply the law in ordinary times. Sloan writes, “It seems that Jesus treats the Sabbath as a microcosm of the Jubilee he heralds, and thus he claims that it is not just permissible but necessary that on the Sabbath he do what the Sabbath qua Jubilee requires” (131). What Sabbath and Jubilee require is the release of bondage from the domain of Satan and death. This is why, as Sloan convincingly demonstrates, Christ’s healings all correspond to the reversal of Levitical curses.

Some of Sloan’s best moments are nestled in this demonstration of Jesus as the divinely authorized teacher and interpreter of the law. This is seen especially in his treatment of the “permitted profanations” of the law, as when his disciples plucked heads of grain on the Sabbath (Matt. 12:1–8). Jesus’s actions have precedence: “David and the priests have ‘violated’ the law, but they show that in some cases violations are permitted” (159). Just as David and the priests may profane the Sabbath or violate the law because of a greater or situation-specific command, so also Jesus’s “mission takes precedence over otherwise good rituals and commandments” (149). Sloan goes on to argue that Jesus’s work is “commissioned and that such a commissioning is at least on par with the temple” (138). The “something greater than the temple” (Matt. 12:6) does not refer specifically to Jesus himself but to Jesus and the disciples’ mission.

The strength of Sloan’s argument comes with a necessary caveat. It is not simply that Jesus’s commissioning is on par with the temple and parallel with David’s, or the priests’, commissioning, as Sloan emphasizes; Jesus is also Lord of the Sabbath and the fulfillment of the temple. He is inaugurating a new eschatological reality and era in the New Covenant, which the law pointed to all along. Sloan agrees. However, he goes on to argue that Jesus, as Lord of the law, reestablishes the law and restores God’s people to a form of law observance. And this brings us to a few serious criticisms of Sloan’s work.

The Law-Gospel Distinction Misrepresented 

Our first objection, though by no means the most significant, is that Sloan sets up a false foil when he contrasts his approach with the law-gospel distinction articulated in the Reformed tradition. The kind of false contrast described above—between a laid-back Jesus and the uptight Pharisees—may be more common at a popular level (or for certain strains in the Reformed tradition), but it does not characterize the best articulations of the law-gospel distinction. Yet Sloan uses these crude portrayals as his foil to dismiss the notion that Jesus dealt with legalism in his ministry.

But the law-gospel distinction has never been about maligning or rejecting the law. What the Reformers rejected—following Paul and Jesus, they believed—was not the law per se, but rather the attempt to establish one’s righteousness by adhering to the law. The 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith is representative of this Reformed approach to the law:

Although true believers are not under the law as a covenant of works, to be thereby justified or condemned, yet it is of great use to them as well as to others, in that as a rule of life, informing them of the will of God and their duty, it directs and binds them to walk accordingly; discovering also the sinful pollutions of their natures, hearts, and lives, so as examining themselves thereby, they may come to further conviction of, humiliation for, and hatred against, sin; together with a clearer sight of the need they have of Christ and the perfection of his obedience; it is likewise of use to the regenerate to restrain their corruptions, in that it forbids sin; and the threatenings of it serve to show what even their sins deserve, and what afflictions in this life they may expect for them, although freed from the curse and unallayed rigour thereof.The Second London Baptist Confession of Faith (1689), 19.6

The law reveals and condemns sin, but it also instructs people in righteousness. The law is not powerless, then, but it is completely powerless to justify (e.g., Gal. 2:16).

So while some mistakenly call a high view of the law “legalism,” and while this so-called form of “legalism” is by no means in Christ’s rhetorical crosshairs in the Synoptic Gospels, this does not mean that Christ never challenges a form of legalism in the Synoptic Gospels. It is difficult to imagine, for example, how the parable of the Pharisee and tax collector in Luke 18:9–14 (which receives only a footnote on page 31) can be read as anything but an indictment against legalism: “He told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous” (Luke 18:9). Mark 2:17 is also relevant here, where Christ offers a summary of his entire ministry: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” This cannot mean that Jesus thinks there are some who are truly righteous and therefore not in need of him. Rather, he’s referring to those who think they’re righteous and will thus be deaf to his message. Jesus is saying that he came to call those who know that they lack righteousness. Again, claiming a righteousness before God based on personal adherence to the law may not be at the heart of every dispute, but this misuse of the law wasn’t altogether absent during Jesus’s ministry either.This mischaracterization of the law-gospel distinction is not unique to Sloan, particularly when it comes to scholars who work in the area of “Biblical Studies.”

If Jesus and the Law of Moses had simply stopped here—with a modest recalibration of how to understand Christ’s disputes with the Pharisees, along with a couple shots below the belt at traditional Reformed theology—there would only be little to complain about. But Sloan is far more ambitious in his proposed “recalibrations,” and herein lies our main concern with this book.

Diminished Christology 

One of the consequences of Sloan’s recalibration of Christ’s role and his relationship to the law is that it leaves him with a rather diminished Christology. Christ seems to be reduced to little more than an authoritative interpreter of the law. And while this may in part address his prophetic office, one is left with the impression that his priestly and kingly offices find little purchase in the Synoptic Gospels (e.g., the typical proof texts for Christ’s kingly and priestly offices, as well as his divine authority as “God from God,” are used by Sloan to bolster his thesis about Christ’s role as the eschatological Messiah).

Even more pointedly, Christ’s obedience to the law does not appear to be, for Sloan, vicarious in any way. When Christ “fulfills” the law, he is merely “upholding” the right standard—a standard he expects his people to live up to for themselves. There is no category in Sloan’s proposal for something like Christ’s passive obedience, that is, his entire life of suffering that culminated in his death, which renders his people “not guilty” on account of his propitiation, or atoning sacrifice. Nor do we hear of Christ’s active obedience—his fulfillment of God’s law, which renders his people “righteous.” For example, Sloan writes, “Jesus’s point in Matt. 5:17, then, seems to be that he came to do what the Law and the Prophets require, and such commandments perdure at least until ‘all is accomplished’ (5:18)” (81). Christ, apparently, does not meet the standards of the law on behalf of his people so much as he upholds and clarifies those standards for them to then meet on their own. He, in this sense, accomplishes little more than emboldening them to do better.

Even the death of Christ, for Sloan, is not vicarious in the strict sense:

Knowing his fate, Jesus goes to the cross willingly, interpreting his death as an endurance of the covenant discipline through which it will be exhausted for those who repent and follow Jesus’s instruction. Through his resurrection, the restoration is inaugurated, and (now summarizing just Matthew and Luke) having received authority from his heavenly Father, Jesus commissions his disciples to spread this news to the rest of Israel and the nations, “teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matt. 28:20; cp. Luke 24:46–47). (75)

By “repent and follow Jesus’s instructions,” Sloan seems to mean something along the lines of “live in keeping with the Law as Jesus teaches it” (79, 209). In other words, continued law-keeping and observance is, for Sloan, an essential component of the repentance upon which Christ’s death as “covenant discipline” is predicated.

Law-Keeping and Dividing the People of God 

And this raises a fundamental problem with Sloan’s argument. Sloan’s proposal is that Christ’s work of restoration in the New Covenant effectively reaffirms the law. In this, Sloan follows the approach of E.P. Sanders, who held that Second Temple Judaism was not legalistic but rather a grace-based religion. Many of the assumptions of Sloan’s work are indebted to Sanders’s covenantal nomism.E.P. Sanders used the phrase “covenantal nomism” to characterize Israel’s perceived relationship to the law during Second Temple Judaism. According to Sanders, God had graciously brought Israel into a covenant relationship. Keeping the law, then, was not a way of getting into the covenant but rather the way Israel was expected to maintain, or stay in, this covenant relationship. The Pharisees, contrary to popular opinion, were not legalists but too lenient in their grace-based approach. For instance, Sloan critiques N.T. Wright, who said, “Jesus was replacing adherence or allegiance to Temple and Torah with allegiance to himself. Restoration and purity were to be had, not through the usual channels, but through Jesus” (138).N.T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, Christian Origins and the Question of God, Vol. 2 (Fortress, 1996), 274. Sloan responds that Jesus’s debate was not with “the Pharisees over matters of food, purity laws or the Sabbath” or Jewish law observance (171). The issue for the Pharisees is that Jesus made himself “not just the herald, but the executor of the restoration, divinely authorized as the Son of God to teach the law and to serve as Israel’s authoritative prophet endowed with the authority to summon Israel to God through himself” (171). This was a battle over authority, not over perceived threats to the law. In other words, Sloan agrees with Wright on the need for allegiance to Jesus, but he sides with Sanders that this allegiance to Jesus is expressed through continued careful “grace-based” law observance in the New Covenant era.

We believe that this approach to the law misunderstands Jesus’s teaching. Jesus fulfilled the law, and at the same time, he ushered in something completely new in the New Covenant. It is noteworthy that Jesus’s followers were accused of teaching that “Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses delivered to us” (Acts 6:14). This is a question of authority, but it is more than that. The religious leaders saw Jesus and his work as a threat to their place (temple), cultic institutions, and overall understanding of the law. Jesus was ushering in something new and unprecedented. He inaugurated the time of fulfillment that brought about the end of Mosaic law observance as covenantally binding.

There are endless debates about the law (Titus 3:9), and the debates over discontinuity and continuity will continue. But Sloan’s emphasis on the continuity of the law and the necessity of law observance within the New Covenant era invites misunderstanding that hits close to the very heart of the freedom offered in the gospel. Sloan argues that Jesus requires Jews to continue observing the law as part of the New Covenant (209). Sloan’s emphasis on the necessity of continued law observance even under the New Covenant is a shocking claim.

Sloan’s interpretation leads him to sympathize with the law-keeping demands represented in the Judaizers’ perspective. They claimed, “It is necessary to circumcise them [the Gentiles] and to direct them to keep the law of Moses” (Acts 15:5). Sloan comments sympathetically, “Circumcising them and directing them to observe the law of Moses need not be interpreted as a sign of ill will but can be seen as a desire for their full inclusion: Gentiles are really joining the family, and so they must do all that the family does” (222).

Judaizers argued at least two things: (1) Belief in Jesus includes following the Mosaic law as an essential ground for one’s righteous standing (Acts 15:1); (2) Gentiles must become Jewish in order to be brought into the covenant (Acts 15:5). Unlike the Judaizers, Sloan does not argue that Gentile Christians should observe the law as though they are now Jewish. He also is clear that law-keeping is not required for salvation. However, Sloan does argue that as a result of salvation, Jesus “teaches his fellow Jews to keep all aspects of the Law, from the Ten Commandments and the love of neighbor to the purity regulations and tithing requirements” (215). In other words, Jews are to continue to observe the law.

Sloan also argues that Gentiles should keep aspects of the Levitical laws that apply to them (not circumcision or dietary laws) (230). Of course, the typical interpretation of Christ’s teachings—which Sloan critiques in his work—places significant emphasis on the fact that Christ’s death and resurrection are the means of ushering in the New Covenant and inaugurating a new age. This New Covenant does not push for strict observance of the Mosaic law but rather obedience to the new “law of Christ,” which is the fulfillment of the Mosaic law (1 Cor. 9:21; Gal. 6:2). Sloan acknowledges this as a potential problem for his suggestion that Christ reestablishes the law in the New Covenant, but he dismisses it (84–85). For our part, we do not believe Sloan’s rebuttal is adequate and maintain that he does not give enough weight to the monumental shift that takes place between Christ’s obedient life and his resurrection.

So, while Sloan’s view is not that of the Judaizers that Paul faced, his argument for continued law observance is subject to some of the same critiques that Paul issues in Galatians and elsewhere. Arguments for continued law observance misunderstand the purpose of the law and its place in redemptive history. Sloan’s thesis misunderstands the time of eschatological freedom of the New Covenant in the gospel. In this new era, to call people to ceremonial law-keeping is akin to submitting again to the “yoke of slavery” and puts one under obligation to keep the whole law (Gal. 5:1–3). Yet Sloan argues that Jewish believers are still called to law observance. They should be circumcised and follow the cultic rituals, Sabbaths, festivals, and dietary laws of the Old Covenant as a part of their New Covenant discipleship. This flies in the face of the New Testament’s consistent argument concerning the fading away of the Old Covenant shadow, which was confirmed in the destruction of the temple in AD 70.

The teaching of the New Testament, especially the books of Galatians and Hebrews, undermines the necessity of continued ceremonial law observance. Hebrews clearly teaches the fading away of the Old Covenant with its laws and institutions as it gave way to the New Covenant. To be clear, Hebrews does not have a negative view of the Old Covenant but instead teaches that it was a temporary, external covenant. In Jesus, the time of reformation has come (Heb. 9:10). The pressing issue in the book of Hebrews is: How do believers (likely Jewish believers in particular) interact with the cultic institutions and liturgy in Jerusalem at this point in redemptive history? The destruction of the temple was a definitive affirmation of the theology of Hebrews. The Old Covenant and its shadows preach Christ, while its rituals and law-keeping are becoming obsolete. This means the Old Covenant “is ready to vanish away” (Heb. 8:13).

Sloan’s approach offers a fundamental misunderstanding of the New Covenant’s newness and binds the conscience of believers (especially Jewish believers) to law-keeping, which has been abolished and is passing away (Eph. 2:15; Heb. 8:13; 9:9–10). It also divides the one people of God, the “one new man,” into two men again (Eph. 2:11–22). Sloan explicitly names this concern and responds by saying that distinctions do not equate to disunity (209–212; 221–231). But Sloan’s vision of the Jew-Gentile relationship is much more than a mere ethnic distinction: it is a fundamentally separate program for obedience. Jews and Gentiles, in Sloan’s argument, are saved through Jesus, but they have fundamentally different ways of pursuing sanctification and holiness. Indeed, some of Israel’s laws—which believing Jews must ostensibly obey today, according to Sloan—were explicitly intended to distinguish them from the Gentiles. How, in such a framework, are Jews and Gentiles to function in a single flock under a single Shepherd (John 10:14–18)?

Sacrifice of Atonement? 

Sloan’s gospel confusion comes through not only in his emphasis on law observance but is especially seen in his understanding of the cross. He argues that “Jesus’s blood shedding is not presented as an atoning sacrifice in the ‘technical’ sense” (201). What he means is that Jesus’s death does not meet the stipulations set up in the law. Therefore, it is not technically a sacrifice: “Clinging to the metaphorical domain of ‘atoning sacrifice’ to interpret Jesus’s death in the Synoptic Gospels signals a misrepresentation of both sacrifice and Jesus’s death” (203). We, for our part, will indeed cling to this “atoning sacrifice” language. But we don’t do this as though the sacrifice of Christ were operating in a metaphorical domain. Just the opposite: every sacrifice of the Old Covenant was in the metaphorical domain of this more real sacrifice of atonement in the death of Christ.

Sloan’s wording in this section of Jesus and the Law of Moses (200–206) moves beyond the Synoptics’ presentation of the death of Christ to a more categorical theological statement. He is clear in his emphasis that, in the theology of the Synoptics, it is a categorical error to understand Jesus’s death as an atoning sacrifice. Given his more limited focus in this book, it is understandable that Sloan addresses neither Paul nor Hebrews nor John. But is the Synoptic understanding of the death of Christ fundamentally at odds with the rest of the New Testament? Are John, Paul, and the author of Hebrews guilty of “misrepresentation of both sacrifice and Jesus’s death” when they present Jesus’s death as an atoning sacrifice? The rest of the New Testament is also engaged in the same work Sloan gives himself to in Jesus and the Law of Moses: interpreting the work of Christ—including his life and death and resurrection—in light of the law of Moses.

But it’s not only John, Hebrews, and Paul that present Jesus’s sacrifice as an atonement; the Synoptics do as well. In fact, Jesus’s death is understood as a sacrifice of atonement in Matthew, Mark, and Luke.For example, see David Garland, A Theology of Mark’s Gospel (Zondervan Academic, 2015), 472–506. Isaiah’s second exodus theme and his prophecy of a Suffering Servant could be called the theological foundation of these Gospels. Isaiah 53 is alluded to in Mark 10:45 (including the idea of exchange, Isaiah 53:10–12; see also Matt. 20:28) and Mark 14:61 (“like a lamb. . .silent,” Isaiah 53:7), and it is (explicitly) quoted in Luke 22:37 (“he was numbered with the transgressors,” Isaiah 53:12). The Synoptics describe Jesus’s sacrifice of atonement in the framework of the Suffering Servant and thus invite further theological reflection and articulation, which is provided in the rest of the New Testament.

Similarly, Sloan draws a sharp contrast between Christ’s death as “the blood of the covenant” and his death as “atoning sacrifice” with an extended reflection on Exodus 24 and 29 (200–201). But we find this sharp bifurcation befuddling. Why must we choose between Christ’s death as either a sacrifice or an atonement or an enactment of a covenant? Why can’t the blood shed in Exodus 12 (Passover), Exodus 24 (the confirmation of the Old Covenant), and Exodus 29 (the consecration of the priests), together with the blood shed in Leviticus 16 (the Day of Atonement) all point forward to the same referent (Christ’s Pascha)? Sloan does not seem to have much of a category for compounding typological fulfillment. To be fair, he might retort: “To identify Jesus’s shed blood with sacrifice . . . fallaciously collapses comparable purposes (forgiveness) into identical means (sacrifice) and mistakenly collapses a bloody execution performed by non-priests in a profane space into sacrifice” (202). But we would simply respond, Take it up with the author of Hebrews, because that is precisely what he does over the course of some six chapters (i.e., Hebrews 4:14–10:18).

To say that Jesus’s death is not a sacrifice of atonement because it is performed in a profane space by non-priests is to require too much of texts that were intended to anticipate a greater reality. In Sloan’s argument, the shadow of the law dictates the way the substance of Christ’s sacrifice must take place. But this gets things backwards. Sloan emphasizes, “The death is nonsacrificial in nature, being a profane execution performed by nonpriests in common space” (206). This is a grievous error and an example of Sloan forcing the Synoptics’ presentation of Christ’s sacrifice to fit into his own theological formulation. Christ’s death is indeed sacrificial in nature. It is a sacrifice pointed to by the law and its prescriptions for sacrifice, but it is also infinitely and qualitatively different. Christ’s sacrificial death is the fulfillment of all other sacrifices. This sacrifice is put forward by God the Father (Rom. 3:25) in the heavenly holy place (Heb. 9:24), and it involves the blood of the Son of God (Heb. 9:12) who offered himself through the eternal Spirit (Heb. 9:14). It is not sacrificial only if you judge it according to the letter of the Mosaic Law. For the law in its sum and substance bears witness to this sacrifice of Christ.

Not only that, but Matthew’s account of the climactic tearing of the temple curtain from top to bottom immediately after the death of Jesus signifies that this sacrifice was infinitely more powerful and effective than any sacrifice ever offered in the temple (Matt. 27:51). The tearing of the curtain shows that the way to God has been opened and that the temple and its laws are no longer necessary. The claim that the death of Christ is nonsacrificial should be rejected outright. Sloan rightly notes that Christ’s blood restores the covenant, but it does so through the unparalleled and climactic sacrifice of atonement.

Conclusions: The Implications of a Paradigm Shift 

Sloan and others might insist that we are critiquing the author for the book that he should have written rather than the book that he did, in fact, write. The defense may come along these lines: “This is a book about the Synoptic Gospels. To demand that the author wrestle with his thesis’s relevance to John or Paul or Hebrews is unreasonable.” And, to be fair, there is surely room for focusing on one’s area of expertise. But while deciding to focus on the Synoptic Gospels may be well and good, that also means one’s theological conclusions should be as modest as the area of focus is narrow.

The moment one begins to extrapolate the theological consequences of (in this case) Christ’s teaching in the Synoptic Gospels to the whole Christian life—down to the particulars of what Christ’s death does or doesn’t mean, how Jews and Gentiles relate to one another in the church, and what Christ’s death and resurrection mean for the law of Moses—one can rightly be expected to consult the rest of the New Testament. Sloan may object that he hasn’t given himself (in this work) to the tasks of New Testament Theology or Systematic Theology, but that is precisely what he has done when he leaps from modest observations and recalibrations to paradigm-shifting proposals for what constitutes the gospel, the Christian life, and the church.

However much Sloan may wish to stay in the Synoptic-Gospel academic silo, he has placed a high burden on himself with his far-reaching conclusions. He cannot have his “specialized focus on just these three books” cake and eat his “fundamentally paradigm-shifting proposal” too. A thesis like this has to answer questions like, How is the meaning deepened, extended, and further revealed in the broader storyline of God’s redemption in Christ and in other passages? To be sure, Sloan makes a modest attempt at this kind of work (213–230)—but only selectively (for example, he avoids the New Testament examples that present Jesus’s work on the cross as an atonement). Sloan’s argument about continued law observance becomes a hermeneutical principle that requires him to reinterpret the rest of the New Testament. It also assumes a congruity with Pauline theology (231). This hermeneutic is evident in his (unconvincing) reinterpretation of Mark 7:19 and Acts 10 texts that Sloan insists do not set aside dietary restrictions. This also means that he needs to reinterpret Paul in passages like Romans 14 (for example) such that the apostle is addressing something besides Jewish food laws. It is one thing to say that the New Testament permits some ritual law observance in some form in the New Covenant. It is another thing altogether to say that the New Testament requires continued law observance. We suspect that many of Sloan’s interpretations will be sympathetic to E.P. Sanders, as that is the trajectory set in Jesus and the Law of Moses.

On a related note, Sloan may have put himself in the difficult position of leaning over his theological skis. For example, if Jewish followers of Christ are commanded to observe the law, what does this mean in a post-AD 70 situation in which the temple has been destroyed? Does it look like Rabbinic Judaism? Does it look like the way the Israelites were to observe the law in their years of exile? This would seem to be a strange conclusion in light of the fact that Christ, according to Sloan, has come to end exile and inaugurate the eschatological Jubilee. It would be an odd providence indeed if Israel’s “restoration” and the reestablishment of the law looked identical to Israel’s time of exile.

Many more questions could be asked. For instance, if Jews who follow Christ are required to observe the Mosaic law, does this also prohibit intermarriage with Gentiles? Or, again, is it even possible—in this schema—for Jews and Gentiles to be members of the same local church if “Christian obedience” means something altogether different for these two groups? Does the pastor have two sets of exhortations in his sermons: one for the Jew and another for the Gentile?

These kinds of concerns are anything but peripheral. In our judgment, the apparent difficulties they pose to Sloan’s ambitious theological conclusions would be enough to rule it out, even if it didn’t have the logical, theological, and exegetical shortcomings highlighted earlier. For these reasons, we consider Jesus and the Law of Moses to be a book full of many thought-provoking observations, but one that is ultimately undermined by its failure to take its own views to their logical conclusions and deal with their theological and real-life consequences.

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Shepherding God’s flock is one of the most exhilarating, enriching, and rewarding stewardships a man may undertake on this side of glory. Pastoral ministry is not, however, a safe enterprise. The office exposes a man to an array of enigmatic trials, haunting questions, deep disappointments, searing heartaches, and a daunting cluster of responsibilities essential to the care of souls. In all this, we bear the weight of our accountability to God for the oversight of a flock for which the Good Shepherd laid down his life.

We are not sufficient for such a calling. Thankfully, God is rich in mercy. Thankfully, Jesus has sent the Comforter to aid us in our frailty. And thankfully, for most pastors, God also provides a flesh-and-blood helper—a woman to walk beside us and to bear the burdens of ministry with us.

The pastor’s wife is a rare species with a peculiar calling. She is one flesh with the pastor. If he is worthy of his office, this means she is one flesh with a difficult man. If she is worthy of her calling, this means she has slit the throat of anything akin to a “normal life” on the altar of sacrifice to God. A faithful pastor’s wife seeks no pity in response to the sacrifices she makes. But she is owed the pastoral watch care of her husband as she navigates ministry expectations and determines the shape and scope of her service in the assembly that he shepherds.

How may a pastor love his wife by helping her set life-giving, and not life-draining, expectations for her ministry to God’s people?

1. See Straight on Your Wife’s Biblical Job Description

Scripture delineates specific qualifications for pastors and details their job description. No such text is found for a pastor’s wife. The implication is that Christ’s expectations of a pastor’s wife are identical to his will for every other woman in the assembly. Like them, she is called to grow in godly living (1 Tim. 2:9–10, 5:9–10), to excel as a faithful mother (Titus 2:3–5, Prov. 31:28), and to prosper as a suitable helper to her husband (Gen. 2:18–19; Prov. 31:28; 1 Tim. 3:4–5). Like them, she is also called to use the unique gifts with which Christ has sovereignly equipped her for the purpose of edifying the blood-bought body she serves as a member (1 Cor. 12:4–7, 18–20; Eph. 4:1–7).

At one end of the scale, Scripture does not assign to your wife the role of lead shepherdess of the women. Nor, at the other extreme, does Scripture position your wife as queen bee whose relationship to you insulates her from sacrificial ministry amidst the lowly worker bees. So, first and foremost, you must align your wife’s ministry with biblical expectations. The next step is to know your wife.

2. Shepherd Your Wife to Minister Within the Sphere of Her Gifting

Consider the relationship of your wife’s unique gifting by the Holy Spirit and the ministry she is presently fulfilling in the assembly. Is she currently weighed down with responsibilities that lie outside the pale of her gifting? If so, improper expectations are likely hindering her from running the race Christ intends for her to run in the service to his body.

If, for instance, your wife mostly dreads teaching the Bible or overseeing women’s ministries yet feels obligated to shoulder these duties, it is your responsibility as her pastor to free her from whatever expectations conscript her to fulfill them. If her gifting is behind-the-scenes service, free her to do that. Do not abandon her to languish under a burden of teaching or administrative oversight simply because someone expects her to serve in those roles. If your wife is not a teacher, not a leader, not a courageous recruiter, it is a mistake to lay such expectations upon her primarily because she is married to you.

In assessing how your wife’s spiritual gifting will best serve the ministry you lead, remember that she is not the previous pastor’s wife. She is not the pastor’s wife of the church in which you were raised. She is who she is by the grace and ordination of the church’s head. Loose her to take on ministry responsibilities that correspond to how the Spirit has equipped her. He did not situate her in the membership of your church haphazardly or mistakenly. He has a purpose for her that he expects her to discover and leverage for his glory and the edification of the covenant community (Eph. 4:15–16).

As you strive to harmonize your wife’s ministry with her spiritual gifting, you may encounter resistance. Your efforts may collide with the expectations that some church members have of her. How can you help her navigate these shoals?

3. Do Not Permit Church Members to Place Ministry Expectations on Your Wife

There are biblical expectations that every member of the church will rightly have for every other member of the church. But some members tend to press unnecessary expectations on pastors’ wives. It is your duty to shield your wife from pressures of this nature.

This caution may apply most directly to younger pastors who take the reins of smaller churches with established ministry patterns. It is common in such settings for an unwritten job description to meet the new pastor’s wife at the door. You must, of course, listen to the wisdom of church members as you seek to understand the assembly’s needs and practices. But it is vital you shield your wife from all ministry expectations that she sees more as pressure to please others and less as an invitation to serve that she truly welcomes. That said, it is also possible for such pressure to be self-imposed, thus a parallel admonition is in order.

4. Do Not Abandon Your Wife to Set Ministry Expectations for Herself

A pastor can passively stand aside, leaving his wife to determine ministry expectations on her own because he is “so busy.” But the Spirit’s call to know and love your wife includes shepherding her toward ministry involvement that interfaces with her gifting and your need for her support as a husband-pastor.

It also involves helping her determine proper load management. She will take on tasks she does not relish, but do not stand in the shadows while she is pressed to serve as a safety net for all manner of duties others care not to assume. It is your responsibility to ensure that the ministries she commits to do not wear her down. Loving her may even involve relieving her of certain responsibilities and shouldering any fallout from church members whose expectations of her are disillusioned.

A sweet spirit and a servant’s heart enable many pastors’ wives to shoulder tremendous pressures with stoic resolve. But it is another matter when pastors’ wives are pressured to perform duties they are ill-equipped to handle, under expectations they could not possibly satisfy. When your wife is weighed down by expectations, the inevitable consequence is deep-seated frustration and spiritual fatigue. These, in turn, invariably diminish her effectiveness as a wife and mother, fueling her sense of inadequacy and failure. It also tends to diminish her husband’s capacities to pastor, which harms the very church she is struggling so hard to serve. Her husband-pastor must protect her from falling into such a downward spiral.

5. As a Couple, Keep Your Eyes Fixed on Eternity

Your wife’s job? She is a pastor’s wife, nothing more. She is a pastor’s wife, nothing less. As she learns to fulfill her high and noble calling, as she runs her race to enhance her husband’s effectiveness in ministry, as she pours out her life in service to her Lord, she will receive no accolades from the world and few, if any, from believers whose unfounded expectations she disappoints along the way. But as she honors her Maker’s will, faithfully employing her gifts for the advancement of the church for which Jesus died, she will come to sense God’s pleasure.

In the throes of her race, you must both look long. Remember that when she stands in eternity, the one speaking, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” will be no opinionated church member checking off a list of expectations. These priceless words will be spoken by her Lord. His assessment is all that will matter on that day. It is all that matters today. His desire for her is joyful fatigue in ministry, not joyless exhaustion. So lovingly lead her there, and do so with an eye fixed on the day when joyful fatigue will give way to pure joy.

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Have you discovered that it’s often difficult to know when a young person is ready to be baptized and partake of the Lord’s Supper? Granted, there are a variety of factors to consider for each individual, and faithful churches and Christians may disagree on how to approach this question. Regardless, I’d like to propose three questions and some related reflections for your church’s elders to consider as you examine younger baptismal candidates

1. Can This Young Person Count the Cost of a Life of Following Jesus?

Jesus makes it clear that before someone makes the public commitment to follow him, that person needs to know and embrace what a life of following Jesus will require from him (Luke 14:25–33). Just think of the temptations you’ve faced as a Christian and to which you’ve had to say no: love of money, sexual sin, idolatry, etc. There’s a cost to a lifetime of saying no to these things.

Remember, Jesus isn’t like the credit card company that sets up shop on a college campus trying to get students to sign on the dotted line without reading the fine print. No, Jesus forces potential converts to stare at the fine print before signing on (Luke 9:57–62)! We tend to think that there’s not much difference between the one who never claimed to follow Jesus and the one who claimed to follow Jesus but then later reneged. But the Lord tells us differently: “For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish’” (Luke 14:28–30). In other words, don’t start what you can’t finish.

Jesus’s response to the crowds at the end of John 2 is also helpful in this regard, as there were “many” who “believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing” (John 2:23). A huge crowd says they want to follow Jesus! We might be tempted to go ahead and fill the baptismal tank, but Jesus does the opposite: “. . . [he] did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man” (vv. 24–25). Many in the crowd thought they wanted to follow Jesus, but he had reason to doubt that they “counted the cost.” So to return to the original question, Can this young person count the cost of a life of following Jesus?

2. Can This Young Person Fulfill the Responsibilities the New Testament Gives to Church Members?

The Lord’s Supper signifies that all the individual partakers are part of one body (1 Cor. 10:17), and being part of his body brings with it certain responsibilities (1 Cor. 12). And, significantly for this conversation, these responsibilities are “one-size-fits-all.” That is to say, these responsibilities pertain to all members. As far as the New Testament is concerned, there’s no “kid’s meal” version of church membership. Therefore, elders should clearly communicate the New Testament’s commands about church membership to all potential members to see if they are willing and able to fulfill these commands.

Some questions to consider: Will this person be able to deliberate over and affirm the decision to remove a fellow member on account of adultery? Less dramatic but more common, Would she be able to point out to a fellow member when she sees a pattern of sin? What about voting to dismiss the long-time pastor because he’s decided to deny justification by faith alone in Christ alone? If someone isn’t ready to carry out these biblically mandated responsibilities, then they’re not yet ready for membership. Can this young person fulfill these kinds of responsibilities?

3. Would (and Should) Our Church Excommunicate a Young Person if Necessary?

The worst-case scenario for any church member, regardless of age, is that he or she would fall into unrepentant sin. In such cases, the church must obey Jesus’s instructions for church discipline (Matt. 18:15–20). Thus, in the same way that a medical doctor shouldn’t take on a patient unless he’s willing to give her the news about her cancer, the church shouldn’t take in a member to whom they won’t give the news about her unrepentant sin (see 1 Cor. 5:5). If, out of love, you’re willing to give someone the Supper, then you must be willing, out of love, to withhold it. Ask yourself, Would our church practice church discipline on this particular young person?

Then related to this is a second question: Should our church practice excommunication on this young person? Every culture recognizes that there are certain processes and consequences to which minors shouldn’t be subjected—for the simple reason that they are not yet adults! It’s worth considering, then, whether the instant transformation of this young person’s relationships with the adult Christians in his life should be reserved for a time closer to adulthood (Matt. 18:17; 1 Cor. 5:9–13; 2 Thes. 3:14).

A Church Decision 

None of the above points would matter much if God had told us that each individual was supposed to be the final authority on their spiritual standing before him. If that were the case, when an elder met with someone for baptism and membership, the only question would be, Do you think you’re ready for this? But this is exactly what John the Baptist doesn’t do when he refuses to baptize the crowds who come out to him (Luke 3:7–17). It’s what Jesus doesn’t do in John 2 when he refuses to entrust himself to the crowd that “believes” in him (John 2:23–25). In short, the decision to publicly recognize someone as a Christian involves more than just that individual and the Lord. Matthew 18:15–20 makes it clear that it takes a church to “bind” and “loose.”

Moving Slow Is Better than Moving Fast 

I’ll close with two reasons why, when it comes to young people, moving slow is better than moving fast. First, there is an explicit warning against someone taking the Lord’s Supper when she shouldn’t (see 1 Cor. 11:29–30). Therefore, we need to be confident that those who come to the table will be able to come in a right manner.

Second, one’s righteous standing before the Lord is in no way based on baptism, the Lord’s Supper, or church membership—much like it isn’t based on any aspect of our obedience (Gal. 2:15–3:14). Our relationship with the Lord is built entirely on God’s saving work in Jesus Christ, which we receive through faith. So when wisdom requires, we can wait on baptizing a young person without fearing that we are putting them in spiritual danger, for we know that it’s God who justifies the ungodly (Rom. 4:5).

The post Is This Young Person Ready to Be Baptized? Clarifying Questions and Considerations for Churches appeared first on 9Marks.

I will never forget the phone call from the chairman of the search committee informing me that the church had overwhelmingly voted to call me as their next senior pastor. I was excited, and the church was too. The future seemed bright.

Three years later, I received another unforgettable call while on vacation: a significant number of families within the church were demanding my removal.

I am now twelve years removed from the ill-fated business meeting that followed, and I can still recall nearly every detail. The line indelibly engrained into my psyche came from an older gentleman sitting center right, eight rows back, who stood to his feet and exclaimed, “Pastor, I don’t care what that book says, that’s not how we do things here!”

“That book” he referenced was the Bible I held open in my hand. And his declaration, affirmed by many others in the room, instantaneously changed my life forever. The church was more concerned for their traditions than God’s Word preached and practiced. Upon that revelation, I knew my ministry within this church was done.

Scars That Remain

In the years since, my wounds have mostly healed, though scars remain. Emotional scars, much like physical scars, have a way of marking us for a lifetime. They become perpetual reminders not only of the pain experienced but also of lessons learned. 

The days immediately following a termination or forced resignation are lonely. Feelings of failure, regret, and uncertainty are overwhelming. My pride was shattered, as were “my” plans for life and ministry. The Evil One tempted me to think of my situation as unique, yet sadly I continue to hear from many who share a similar story. Many of us are now brothers initiated into a fraternity we never requested to join.

Like anyone else, pastors can understand being terminated for justifiable reasons. However, when the sheep reject the shepherd for the truths he has taught, the pain goes deep. Initially I felt relief, like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The secret meetings, back-channel messages, and anonymous letters ceased. Yet, in my grief, I soon had to acknowledge that I lost more than a job; I lost the local church that the Lord had entrusted to my care. Regardless of who was at fault, this realization cut deeply. The body had been severed, leaving wounds that do not quickly heal.

It was difficult to resist the urge to immediately pursue a new pastorate. However, an immediate return to ministry would not have been fair to me, my family, or any future congregation. Instead, I set my pride aside, joined a healthy local church, and took a job outside of pastoral ministry. I decided it would be better to decline preaching opportunities and forego the interview process than to expose my wounds for all to see.

I wrestled with whether the reward was worth the cost, and I often wondered if I would ever return to pastoral ministry. As days turned into months, and months turned into years, I faced the growing possibility that a return to full-time pastoral ministry may not be the Lord’s plan for my life. This realization was devastating.

Finding My Identity in Christ 

Yet, by God’s grace, the Spirit began to open my eyes to the reality that, for far too long, my identity was found in my professional title, not in my being a Christian. Through the sanctifying lessons of this season, Christ convicted me of my sin. I could not faithfully follow him—much less lead others—if my identity as a pastor hindered my ability to trust him as my only hope in life and death. Over time and through many tears, he brought me to the point where I could honestly say that if I never pastored another church or preached another sermon, Christ is enough.

Waiting was difficult, but it was not without purpose. This season provided me the opportunity to experience ministry from a different perspective. I had time to examine the various ways I could, and should, have served the church better. Culpability is rarely one-sided in a broken relationship, and there was much to learn from even my strongest critics. Each of these realizations not only made me a better pastor, but most importantly, a more faithful follower of Christ.

A Question I Had to Answer 

In the days leading up to the ill-fated business meeting, I was tempted to compromise my teaching to keep my position. For the first time in my life, I had to truly grapple with the question of whom I would fear more, God or man. It wasn’t merely a theoretical question, but one that required practical obedience. Would I compromise my teaching and keep my position, or would I stand firm and find myself unemployed?

As I was brought face-to-face with my fears, I not only developed thicker skin, but the Lord also grew in me an unwavering commitment to expositional preaching and deep discipleship.

In hindsight, I wish I had been a better expositor, as well as a more seasoned pastor. The church that forced me out needed both. What I did provide, and for this I have no regrets, was consistent and faithful preaching of the gospel. I strove to make the point of the passage the point of the sermon and to direct my listeners to the hope found in Christ. I was (and still am) committed to the belief that sound doctrine must drive the methodology, missiology, and doxology of the local church. Whether it is how we receive members, how we fence the Lord’s Table, or how we determine which songs to sing, our theology must drive our decision making—not tradition or personal preference. We must preach Christ crucified. We must declare the whole counsel of God. We must care deeply about what “that book” says, because that’s all we have to say.

Lessons Learned 

This painful experience, along with my subsequent years in pastoral ministry, taught me never to assume every member of my church understands these foundational truths in the same way. A shared statement of faith, though extremely helpful, is not a guarantee that your entire congregation will always agree on doctrine, the ordinances, or church membership. Perhaps this assumption proved to be my biggest mistake.

The words we use may not be received or understood as we intend them to be. Therefore, when our members ask questions, we must patiently answer them and slow down if necessary. When doctrine appears to lead to division, hold fast to the truth, but also resist the urge to see congregants as your “adversaries.” God loves them in Jesus and so must you.

Looking to Christ 

Pastors will continue to face unjust criticism, people will reject our teaching, and sometimes those closest to us will betray us. Regardless, we must look to Christ. Jesus, in his suffering, never dismissed his opposition; rather, his love for them compelled him to go to the cross. Oh, may this same love compel us to love those whom he has called us to lead!

James tells us that the testing of our faith “produces steadfastness” and that the full effect of steadfastness is that we might be “perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (Jas. 1:3–4). While I am far from perfect, the lessons learned through my termination did produce in me steadfastness, a steadfastness that continues to have its effect as the Lord reminds me each day that in Christ I have all I need. By God’s grace, I am now able to look back upon this trial with joy. My scars not only serve to remind me of lessons learned, but of the faithfulness of God and the hope I have in Christ.

The post I Was Fired for My Preaching appeared first on 9Marks.

Vermon Pierre, Dearly Beloved: How God’s Love for His Church Deepens Our Love for Each Other. Moody Publishers, 2024. 176 pages.

Jonathan Edwards writes, “Love to God, love to Christ, and love to saints for God and Christ’s sake, and the enjoyment of the fruits of God’s love in holy communion with God, Christ, and holy persons—this is what [Christians] have a relish for; and such is their renewed nature.”

According to Edwards, love to God and Christ marks the Christian’s “renewed nature,” but Christian love is not only vertical. It’s also horizontal, for love is integral to the corporate identity of God’s people. We become children in God’s household by the free and infinite love of the Father given through the Son and applied by the Spirit. Christian community, then, is not ultimately built upon shared affinity but upon the Triune love of God.

As such, Vermon Pierre’s thesis in Dearly Beloved is absolutely right: “If we are united to God most especially in love, so also we are united to one another in love. God’s love for us in Christ is the only force strong enough to bring us together to God. And God’s love in Christ is the only force strong enough to keep us together with God as one community in Christ” (11).

So how does the Bible describe the love of God’s people for one another? After all, if we want our church members to be united in a polarizing world, we need a love that’s both different and compelling.

The Most Powerful Expression of Love 

According to Pierre, the Bible emphasizes marital love as the kind of love that should be displayed in a local church (12, 14). This is the book’s main thread, and it’s woven throughout. Since God’s love for us is compared to the love of a husband for his wife, we ought to show the same kind of (marital) love to one another in the church. Pierre uses the word “beloved” to describe this marital love of God.

Pierre reminds us that God’s covenant with Israel was sustained by his exclusive love for them, much like a husband’s love for his wife. More importantly, the new covenant inaugurated by Jesus at the cross broadens God’s loving commitment to include the Gentiles. So how does God’s love affect his people—both Jew and Gentile—today? “[God’s] love, and specifically the beloved love of God, unites people to God and unites them to one another. Because we are beloved to God, we become beloved to one another. And as we are beloved to one another, we will be united to one another” (36–37).

After focusing on how we are “beloved” in Part 1, Pierre explores in Part 2 how we are to live “beloved” toward one another in a variety of areas: initiative, words, delight, intimacy, presence, commitment, passion, conflict, and perseverance.

Commendations 

Pierre makes God’s love for his people come alive. God really loves them, and he’s committed to them despite their wandering and betrayals. And Pierre rightly points out that we ought to love one another despite our differences in personalities, cultures, and backgrounds. As God offers us grace, Pierre encourages us to “jump on the chance to be favorable and do good to each other, knowing such chances steadily chip away at whatever concrete blocks of conflict are dragging down our relationships” (149).

One practical example of how our love for one another should show itself is in the way we speak to one another. “Instead of the trends of harmful, divisive words, we want to speak words that commit us to each other, to nurture and sustain each other. . . . In Jesus, we see people as Jesus does, which leads us to speak to people as Jesus does” (63). We need this exhortation injected into our own churches today.

Cautions 

Despite the book’s strengths, it seems that Pierre has wrongly emphasized God’s marital love as the primary analogy for our love for one another. The logic of the book goes like this: Christ loves the church like a husband loves his wife. Therefore, we should imitate Christ by showing that same kind of love to fellow church members. We love one another, Pierre says, “not only out of [God’s] familial love; we love one another also out of his spousal, beloved love” (40). This is the “strongest way to love one another” (39).Here is Pierre’s full statement: “To be united together like the Bible calls us to, we must love one another. And the strongest way for us to love one another is to see and treat others as being beloved to us” (39). A couple additional examples of similar statements by Pierre: “The same marital love that bound us to the Lord binds us to one another and fuels our ability to be united together as one people, as His beloved bride” (41); “For long one another, we have available to us, necessary to us, the most passionate, fervent, committed dimension of God’s love–His marital, ‘beloved’ love” (43). 

Most Christians would likely agree that marital love best pictures God’s love for the church. But the Bible rarely speaks of our love and unity for one another using the analogy of a marital relationship. Instead, it emphasizes other relational themes, namely, friendship and family. For example, the new covenant love that Jesus establishes and then commands of his disciples is likened to the love that friends have for each other (John 15:12–15). Our Lord himself said, “No one has greater love than this: to lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13, emphasis added).

The New Testament is also brimming with commands to love one another as brothers and sisters, which is how Paul commonly addresses the readers of his letters (e.g. Rom. 1:13; 1 Cor. 1:10). Herman Bavinck notes that “fraternal love” is the “hallmark and proof that believers are Jesus’s disciples.”Bavinck says that Christians “are bound to each other through intimate love, like children of one family. . . That fraternal love is therefore also the hallmark and proof that believers are Jesus’s disciples. . . . It is proof that we have passed from death into life, obligating us to give our life for the brothers and sisters, a love that is rooted in God’s love for us.” Herman Bavinck, Reformed Ethics, Vol. 2 (Baker Academic: 2021), 447–448.

More broadly, we should be careful about elevating certain analogies of God’s love over others. Nowhere does the Bible teach that God’s spousal love triumphs over his love as a father, a brother, a friend, a Savior, etc. Nor should different pictures of God’s love be pitted against each other. Rather, we should be in awe that God loves—yes, loves—sinners like us and that this love can be expressed in many different ways.

A Word for Pastors 

Pastors, this is yet another reason to preach from various parts of Scripture, as it allows your members to see God’s love in different ways. Hosea compares God’s love for his covenant people to a faithful husband who compassionately pursues an unfaithful wife. Revelation teaches that God loves his people like a King who defeats evil in order to bring them back into his kingdom. Isaiah displays God’s love as redeeming and holy.

We don’t need to draw a one-to-one comparison between God’s love and ours. After all, we don’t and can’t love others in precisely the same way that Christ loves us. He alone is our Redeemer and King. Instead, we should preach the multi-faceted and incomparable nature of God’s love and then urge people to respond by loving him and loving others.

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Following Jesus means suffering, and this is especially the case if you’re a pastor. Satan wages war against Christ’s church, unbelievers slander and persecute the godly, and the godly sin against each other. And the pastor? Well, he is in unique proximity and leading amid all this action. Suffering is part of the job. But pastoral ministry rarely ends in one dramatic act of suffering. Instead, we are faced with the uncomfortable question: are we ready for the quiet, often unseen, and slow death that comes from shepherding the sheep for whom Christ died?

In my experience, the temptation to bail out of ministry hasn’t come from one major trial that seemed impossible to overcome. Instead, it’s been the feeling of death by a thousand cuts that threatens my joy in this work. Are you like me in this, brother pastor? Does the almost imperceptible, unrelenting, and incremental suffering make you wonder, Is this worth it? Wouldn’t a simple nine-to-five job be better?

Trials that Make Up a Slow Death 

Let me share just a few examples of the kinds of trials that require long-suffering on the part of shepherds.

A Shepherd’s Kindness May Be Taken for Granted 

Sheep can take for granted a shepherd’s patience and grace. It’s the pastor’s job to bear with their faults and sins, even when they sin against him. The pastor knows he must love and forgive, but that responsibility isn’t always acknowledged going the other way. If the shepherd has weaknesses or sins against the sheep, he doesn’t always receive the same grace or forgiveness. Instead, the sheep run away.

A Shepherd’s Commitment May Not Be Reciprocated 

The shepherd gives his life for the good of the sheep, but the sheep don’t seem to care. We pour ourselves out all week meeting with people, praying for them, and crafting the best sermon we can for their good. Our families may even have to regularly make sacrifices so that we can serve the church. As a shepherd, you’re always on call. Yet many sheep seem to think that attending church once or twice a month is sufficient. The church simply falls way down on the priority list.

A Shepherd’s Responsibilities May Make Him Susceptible 

Sometimes, the closer the sheep are to the shepherd, the more likely the shepherd is to get bitten. That’s how sin and brokenness work; the people who are given the most care and attention often have the strongest complaints. Pastors are pulled away from the study, and from other sheep, to give many hours to the weaker sheep, the ones who feel like you’re not doing enough.

A Shepherd’s Counsel May Be Ignored 

Often, sheep don’t let the shepherds care for them. A pastoral meeting can go really well, and you’re encouraged by the initial response. But sheep end up doing what they want to do. In fact, they often only show up to get advice after they’ve reached their own conclusion. You would love to guide them with Scripture, but they’re only coming to you as a formality. They might not admit it or realize it, but many sheep are basically their own shepherd. It leaves you feeling used or useless, and it breaks your heart for them.

A Shepherd’s Oversight May Be Rejected 

Sheep often find their own shepherd somewhere else. It’s not really God’s Word they’re wanting to hear. No, they’re looking for confirmation regarding their own decisions or affirmation regarding their own concerns. So rather than listening to you, their pastor, who knows them, sees them, and will give an account to God for them, they turn to the preacher or podcaster online, or someone else with even less credibility, and they turn against you in the process. It grieves us not because our (relative) authority is threatened, but because pastoral care is inherently relational, and we’re the ones who will be held accountable for their souls (Heb. 13:17).

Any pastor could easily come up with additional scenarios because there’s one consistent pain point: you’re committed to the good of the sheep, but they’re often not committed to you. You’ll deal with conflict and stay put. They’ll leave. Of course, that doesn’t mean we never give them reason to leave. We sin against our people in a variety of ways, and some of the cuts we receive come as a consequence of our own mistakes. But by and large, even the most faithful shepherds will bear some scars given to them by those they serve.

How to Die a Slow Death Well 

If the pastor is called to lay down his life for the sheep, then scenarios like the ones above cannot be completely avoided. No matter how healthy the church is, all sheep carry the weakness of their own sin; they’re vulnerable to the dangers of this world; and they’re prone both to bite and to wander. How, then, can a pastor die a slow death well?

First, we need to remember whom we’re ultimately serving. If we make our work all about the sheep or all about ourselves, then we’re likely going to be miserable in suffering. But we must remember: we’re under-shepherds of Christ. They’re his sheep. He died for them to bring glory to himself. So he must increase and we must decrease (John 3:30). I have found much peace by simply telling myself, “It’s not about me.”

Second, it’s good to die. It’s part of following Christ. Jesus said, “If anyone wants to follow after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24). In dying for the good of others, God is making me more like his Son. And it’s not in vain, for Jesus goes on to say that those who lose their life for him will ultimately “find it,” and his Father will “reward” them on the last day (vv. 25, 27).

Paul’s letters reveal a pastor who understood Jesus’s words and applied them to the struggles of gospel ministry. Paul likened his ministry to a woman in labor until Christ was formed in the church (Gal. 4:19). And he said what every pastor dying a slow death well can say: “For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’s sake, so that Jesus’s life may also be displayed in our mortal flesh. So then, death is at work in us, but life in you” (2 Cor. 4:11–12). Likewise, at the end of his ministry, he could say,

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time for my departure is close. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. There is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me, but to all those who have loved his appearing. (2 Tim. 4:6–8)

Brother, if you feel like your suffering goes unseen by many of your sheep, rest assured that it doesn’t go unnoticed by the Chief Shepherd. If we can die to ourselves for the sake of Christ, even if it’s by a thousand cuts, then we can be sure our life of service was worth it.

The post The Art of Dying a Slow Death Well: Long-Suffering in Pastoral Ministry appeared first on 9Marks.

If you click on a job posting at ziprecruiter.com, you’ll find the job overview, the specific responsibilities, and the required qualifications. This information clarifies what the job entails. But when it comes to the work of a pastor, it’s Scripture that lays out the job.See John 21:15–18; Acts 20:28; Col. 1:28–29; 2 Tim. 4:1–2; 1 Pet. 5:1–3. 

If you’re a pastor, your work can be summed up in one biblical word: shepherding (Acts 20:28; 1 Pet. 5:1–3). And, I would argue, shepherding includes four main responsibilities: leading the flock, feeding the flock, protecting the flock, and caring for the flock. I hope this short article helps you, pastor, to evaluate how you’re doing in each of these areas.

Leading the Flock 

Sheep need shepherds to lead them precisely because they are prone to wander. Pastor, you have the privilege and responsibility to lead the flock (1 Thes. 5:12–13), and the primary way you lead is through the public ministry of the Word. You speak Christ’s words to the flock, guiding and directing them as they follow him. Without your leadership, the church may be ill-equipped to understand and fulfill its mission.

For example, your members may affirm that the church’s mission is to make disciples but remain unsure about how to carry it out. They may reduce the mission to inviting friends to church or doing mercy ministry in their city. But as you patiently and intentionally instruct them through the Word, you can guide and equip them to fulfill the Great Commission (Matt. 28:18–20).

Feeding the Flock 

Sheep need to be fed, which is also the pastor’s job (John 21:15–17). The primary way a shepherd feeds is through his teaching and preaching God’s Word. In feeding from God’s Word, God’s people remember and are reinforced in truths such as that they are loved by Christ, forgiven of all their sins, commanded to live according to his precepts, helped by his Spirit to do so, and promised life in the world to come.

Pastors may neglect their duty to feed in at least two ways: by refusing to feed or by replacing the healthy food the sheep need with something that lacks substance. Assuming you’re not outright refusing to feed your flock (which would look like a pastoral strike!), consider the latter kind of neglect.

Substituting Christ with anything—moralism, life-coaching, political agendas—is a failure on the shepherd’s part and detrimental to the flock. It’s worse than giving your children Cheetos and Skittles as their main meal for the day. Your church needs heavenly food. That is, they need Christ himself, the bread of life, who alone nourishes and satisfies the soul (John 6:35). So as you preach and teach Christ from the Scriptures, you invite the flock to feast on him. He is sweeter than honey and more satisfying than a medium-rare steak. Week after week, you have the privilege of helping your church taste and see that the Lord is good (Ps. 34:8).

Protecting the Flock 

Sheep are defenseless and vulnerable. They are not predators but prey. Therefore, they need shepherds to protect them, particularly when it comes to false teachers who prey on the flock (Acts 20:29; Eph. 4:14). These teachers make lies sound like truth; they make slavery look like freedom; they offer poison as candy. They present the pathway to destruction as if it’s the road to a full life. And your church members are susceptible to these forms of deception.

Christ doesn’t want any of his blood-bought sheep to be deceived or devoured.  That’s why your head must remain on a swivel and your shepherd’s staff must remain at hand. Your weapon for protection is Scripture, and the primary way you wield it is through upholding sound doctrine. As you rightly divide the Word, you expose deception, refute heresies, and present the pure gospel. This helps protect the flock from being captured by empty philosophies (Col. 2:8–9).

Caring for the Flock 

Sheep require oversight and care. The Chief Shepherd knows and cares for his flock (John 10:14–15), and he commands you to follow his example (1 Pet. 5:1–3). Do you know your church members’ names? Are you aware of ways to pray for them? Do you have a general sense of how they’re doing, either through personal interactions or through updates from another elder?

Much of your pastoral work is done publicly, but caring for the flock often occurs through personal interactions behind the scenes—after services, in your office, in their homes, or at hospitals. Though less visible, this work is no less valuable. Members of your church are vulnerable to despair, discouragement, and doubts, and you can speak directly to their needs by applying the gospel and strengthening their faith (Acts 20:20; Rom. 15:13). You can also be present to rejoice with them during their happiest moments, like the birth of a child. Or you can be there to mourn with them during their darkest hours, as when they receive a devastating diagnosis or experience the loss of a loved one. Through this kind of pastoral care, weary souls are renewed and the church tangibly experiences the care of the Chief Shepherd.

Conclusion 

Pastors, Christ has called you to devote yourselves to the care of souls, ministering the Word in all your duties.Martin Bucer, Concerning the True Care of Souls, trans. Peter Beale (Banner of Truth, 2009), 33. Your job responsibilities are weighty and worthy of the utmost diligence. On that final day, when Christ the Chief Shepherd evaluates your work, what will he say? By God’s grace, may he commend your faithful labors and say, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matt. 25:21).

The post Pastor’s Job Description: Four Essential Responsibilities of a Shepherd appeared first on 9Marks.

How should Christians treat family members who have been excommunicated from their local church? The Bible clearly instructs believers to avoid close fellowship with those under church discipline (Matt. 18:17; 1 Cor. 5:9–11; Titus 3:10; Rom. 16:17; 2 John 10). However, God has also commanded us to carry out certain responsibilities in our family relationships (Eph. 5:25–33; 6:2), even in relationships with unbelieving family members (1 Pet. 3:1–2; 1 Cor. 7:12–16). These situations can create a tension: How can Christians affirm the church’s decision regarding excommunication while still fulfilling their duties as spouses, parents, or children?

In short, Christians must continue to fulfill their God-given family responsibilities while also honoring (as best as possible) the divinely intended consequences of church discipline. To demonstrate this point, I will briefly summarize the aims of church discipline, examine the nature of the family in comparison to the church, and then provide examples of how this issue has been addressed historically by Reformed churches. I will close by suggesting some practical ways for Christians to fulfill both their family obligations and their responsibilities as church members toward those who are under church discipline.

The Aims of Church Discipline 

Jesus outlined the process of church discipline in Matthew 18:15–17, and Paul gives similar instructions in 1 Corinthians 5 regarding the church’s responsibility toward an unrepentant member. The church is also called to deal with false teachers in a similar manner (Titus 3:10; Rom. 16:17; 2 John 10).For a brief and helpful treatment of the practice, see “A Step-by-step Primer for Church Discipline,” by Geoff Chang. https://www.9marks.org/article/a-step-by-step-primer-for-church-discipline/. For a more thorough treatment, see Jonathan Leeman, Church Discipline: How the Church Protects the Name of Jesus (Crossway, 2012). From these passages, we can deduce five aims of church discipline:

1. Declaration: The church declares that the unrepentant sinner is behaving like an unbeliever (Matt. 18:17).

2. Purification: Discipline protects the church from being corrupted by sin, which, as a consequence, protects every member from confusion regarding what behaviors God disapproves of (1 Cor. 5:6–7, 13).

3. Alienation: The sinner is excluded from the fellowship and safety of the church community (1 Cor. 5:11).

4. Rejection: False teachers must be rejected and avoided so that they do not spread error (Titus 3:10; Rom. 16:17; 2 John 10).

5. Motivation: The sinner’s exclusion from the church is intended to lead him to repentance (1 Cor. 5:5; 1 Tim. 1:20).

The family members of those under church discipline are called to respect these aims, even as they continue to fulfill their obligations at home.

Family and Church as Separate Institutions 

To understand why Christians should fulfill family responsibilities toward those who are excommunicated, we need to recognize that the family and the church are separate institutions, each established by God with its own respective purposes and attending duties. The church is a special grace institution comprised only of those whom God has redeemed through faith in Christ. The family, on the other hand, is a common grace institution established before the fall (Gen. 2:18–24), and it is designed to be a source of stability and love for all people. And because the institution of family is rooted in creation and common grace, its duties are not dependent on someone’s spiritual standing before God. Family duties are therefore binding even when a family member has been excommunicated from the church.

Paul uses similar reasoning when addressing marriages between believers and unbelievers. A Christian husband, for example, is not freed from his marital duties if his wife is an unbeliever. Instead, he is to remain married, for his marital duties serve as a sanctifying influence (1 Cor. 7:12–16). By extension, when a spouse is excommunicated, the marriage covenant remains intact. The believing spouse must fulfill his marital responsibilities, even as he acknowledges that the other is living as an unbeliever. Neglecting family responsibilities under the guise of church discipline would undermine God’s common grace design for the family (see also 1 Tim. 5:8). In turn, the church’s disciplinary action does not dissolve relationships or responsibilities within the family.

Historical Perspectives 

Recognizing the continuing obligation of family duties in cases of excommunication has been the predominant view in church history, particularly in the Reformed tradition.Some Mennonite traditions from the sixteenth century differed from the predominant Reformed position. For instance, Menno Simons, the founder of the Mennonites, taught his followers that even spouses and children should avoid those who had been excommunicated (this was called “the ban,” or shunning). Even within Mennonite traditions, however, there were more moderate views (like the Waterlander Mennonites) that encouraged marital and family relationships to continue in a normal manner. For a survey of the early representations of this tradition, see Joe L. Coker, “‘Cast Out From Among the Saints’: Church Discipline Among Anabaptists and English Separatists in Holland, 1590-1620,” Reformation 11, 1 (2006). Arguing from the limited grounds for divorce given by Jesus in Matthew 19:9, English separatist John Smyth states simply, “excommunication does not dissolve the [marriage] union.”Ibid., 20. Smyth’s words come from his “Defense of de Ries’s Confession,” cited in James Robert Coggins, John Smyth’s Congregation: English Separatism, Mennonite Influence, and the Elect Nation (Waterloo, Ontario: Herald Press, 1991), 56. If it does not dissolve the union, then it cannot alter marital responsibilities. English Puritan William Ames agrees that avoiding the excommunicated “refers not to moral and other necessary duties.”William Ames, The Marrow of Theology, trans. John Dykstra Eusden, Reprint (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1997), 201. Family duties commanded by God would certainly qualify as moral and necessary. John Owen also clarifies, “No duties arising from or belonging unto any of these [family] relations are released, or the obligation unto them weakened, by excommunication. Husbands may not hereon forsake their wives . . . nor wives their husbands.”John Owen, The Church & The Bible, The Works of John Owen 16 (Edinburgh, Scotland, Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth Trust, 1995), 180. Likewise, John Gill asserts that “excommunication does not . . . break in upon the natural and civil relations between a man and wife, parents.”John Gill, A Body of Practical Divinity (Christian Classics Ethereal Library, n.d.), 313. 
Jonathan Edwards is also clear on this point. “Jonathan Edwards, The Works of Jonathan Edwards, Volume 2, 2nd ed (Edinburgh, Scotland, Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth Trust, 1974), 120.” Similar examples could be cited from the nineteenth century.Nineteenth-century American Baptist, Eleazer Savage, advocates excluding and shunning those who have been excommunicated, yet he carefully clarifies that Jesus’s command not to eat with such persons does not “signify the avoidance of common family meals, which might be quite as impossible, in point of fact, as inconsistent with certain scriptural relations and duties.” Eleazer Savage, “Manual of Church Discipline (1863),” in Polity: Biblical Arguments on How to Conduct Church Life, ed. Mark Dever (Washington, D.C.: Center for Church Reform, 2001), 509.

This brief survey represents a historical consensus in Reformed thought: family obligations remain binding even when a relative has been removed from the church.

Applying Discipline Within the Family 

Using the five aims of church discipline identified above, I will provide some brief guidance for practical application. Granted, these are complicated situations, and I do not intend to establish absolute rules for every case. If you find yourself in such a situation, seek pastoral counsel to help you think through the particulars of your situation.

Declaration — Acknowledge the church’s judgment and communicate clearly to your loved one that they are living as an unbeliever (1 John 2:3–4). You should also take providential opportunities to speak with concern and evangelistic clarity (Jas. 5:19–20). At the same time, though, excommunication shouldn’t be all you talk about. In every conversation, you should season your words with love (Eph. 4:15) and “give grace” (Eph. 4:29). Your love for your family member should always be evident and demonstrable even in these difficult circumstances.

1. Purification — Believing family members must not approve of or participate in the sin of a disciplined relative. Therefore, avoid situations that compromise your witness or go against your conscience (Eph. 5:3–4; 1 Thes. 5:22). For example, you might celebrate the birthday of a homosexual family member, but you should refuse an invitation to attend that individual’s “wedding.” In some cases, parents may need to limit an excommunicated adult child’s presence in the home if it influences or endangers younger siblings.

2. Alienation — In some situations, it may be wise to limit the frequency of certain social activities to reinforce your concern and the seriousness of the sin. Your decision on this matter, and how you carry it out, will likely depend on whether you’re dealing with a spouse or some other relative.

3. Rejection — If the excommunicated person is a false teacher, you should be absolutely clear on why you reject their errors (Rom. 16:17; 2 John 10). Show them from Scripture where their error lies and plead with them to believe the truth.

4. Motivation — Avoid shielding loved ones from the consequences of their sin, which can prevent them from feeling the need to repent. Posting bail if a son gets arrested is probably more acceptable than spending tens of thousands of dollars on lawyers to clear him of a crime you know he has committed. We should remember that repentance is the goal, not relief from all earthly consequences (Eccl. 8:11). Like the prodigal son, the person needs to feel the consequences of his sin deeply before he knows to repent (Luke 15:13–17).

Honoring both sets of obligations — family and church — to an excommunicated family member can be done without contradiction, though it requires wisdom and courage. Again, it is highly recommended that you seek pastoral guidance to help you think through your specific situation.

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J.L. Thompson graduated from the Pastors’ College in 1880 and took a pastorate in Esher, southwest of London. But within a few years, he found himself struggling. He writes,

I was completely broken down in health, not able to put a couple of thoughts together, and hadn’t preached for months. Thinking, in my depressed state, that I should never be able to take a charge again, I applied for an insurance claim, to which I considered myself to be entitled. I was examined by the physician, who cheerily told me that six months of complete rest at the seaside would restore me to health.

Thompson decided to write to his former pastor and college president to see if he knew of any seaside homes that he might apply to. He wrote back,

Dear Mr. Thompson,—I don’t know of any Ministers’ Rest. Mr. Brown’s House at Herne Bay is more general. I am sorry you suffer from depression, for I know how heavy an affliction it is. Get to the seaside as soon as you can, and I will find you £5 towards the expense. The Lord bless you!—Yours heartily, C. H. Spurgeon.C. H. Spurgeon, The Sword and the Trowel: A Record of Combat with Sin & Labour for the Lord. (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1892), 378-379.

With Spurgeon’s encouragement and support, Thompson was able to take six months off for rest, saving not only his ministry but his life.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, the most famous preacher of the Victorian era, understood the discouragement and depression that accompany pastoral ministry. Spurgeon had a remarkably fruitful ministry. Thousands were converted under his preaching; his sermons were being sold weekly by the thousands; church ministries were growing. It would be easy to think that Spurgeon was constantly encouraged and joyful.

But when you read his letters and listen to his sermons, you realize that Spurgeon was often deeply discouraged. He bore the “daily pressure of anxiety” (2 Cor. 11:28) for his many church members, for the orphanage, for the pastor’s college, and for much else. As a result, he often fell into a dark “melancholy,” what some today might call depression.

In his classic Lectures to My Students, Spurgeon gave a lecture on pastoral discouragement (“The Minister’s Fainting Fits”). Whether you call it discouragement, depression, melancholy, or “fainting fits,” Spurgeon’s point is that this experience of spiritual and emotional darkness is a part of pastoral ministry. It’s not something unusual but rather something to be expected. And as Spurgeon read church history, he saw that many other pastors had experienced something similar. From Martin Luther to John Calvin, from David Brainerd to Adoniram Judson, and to many others today, many of God’s servants have had to walk through dark valleys. But there in that darkness, they encountered God’s faithfulness.

Here are four reasons from Spurgeon why pastors should expect to encounter pastoral discouragement:

1. Because We Are Human

The first reason we should expect to be discouraged in the pastorate is that we are mere men.

Is it not first that they are men? Being men, they are compassed with infirmity, and heirs of sorrow. Even under the economy of redemption it is most clear that we are to endure infirmities, otherwise there were no need of the promised Spirit to help us in them. It is of need be that we are sometimes in heaviness.C. H. Spurgeon, Lectures to My Students: Addresses Delivered to the Students of the Pastor’s College. Vol. 1. (Passmore & Alabaster, 1875), 168.

This is easy to forget. As those who regularly handle the things of God, we can forget that we are still mere men. We have the privilege of preaching, advising, counseling, and leading, and sometimes we can begin to feel that we are somehow above our people. But these times of discouragement come to humble us, to remind us that we are mere men who live in a fallen world.

Part of being human means living in a fallen body. So often our lowness, or depression, can come as a result of health challenges. Spurgeon writes,

Most of us are in some way or other unsound physically. Here and there we meet with an old man who could not remember that ever he was laid aside for a day; but the great mass of us labor under some form or other of infirmity.Ibid.

Spurgeon was frequently sick due to issues with his kidneys. Later in life he developed gout, which afflicted his feet and joints. These illnesses were extremely painful, and because they were compounded by overwork, Spurgeon was sick for weeks at a time. Often, the physical illnesses led to deep discouragement.

But Spurgeon also had a category for mental illness.

As to mental maladies, is any man altogether sane? Are we not all a little off the balance? Some minds appear to have a gloomy tinge essential to their very individuality . . .Ibid., 168–169.

Some people are more prone to depression and discouragement than others. Spurgeon was naturally very optimistic, but once, when he was 22, he was preaching to a large crowd of about 10,000, and some troublemakers yelled “Fire!” which led to a stampede. Seven people died from being trampled, and many more were injured. Spurgeon was never the same after that event. He was traumatized by it and, for the rest of his life, he would occasionally sink into depression.

And yet, Spurgeon believed that the Lord could use even these kinds of weaknesses to make us better pastors.

These infirmities may be no detriment to a man’s career of special usefulness; they may even have been imposed upon him by divine wisdom as necessary qualifications for his peculiar course of service.Ibid., 169.

Pastor, your weaknesses and discouragement do not inherently disqualify you. Rather, they highlight God’s grace as you persevere. Spurgeon’s people would watch as their pastor persevered and preached through pain, and that helped them persevere, too. Many pastors have battled serious discouragement, and yet the Lord has used that struggle to make them into skillful and tender counselors.

Good men are promised tribulation in this world, and ministers may expect a larger share than others, that they may learn sympathy with the Lord’s suffering people, and so may be fitting shepherds of an ailing flock.Ibid., 168.

God could have sent angels to be pastors. But angels are unable to suffer like us. They would never understand our pain. Instead, he sent frail humans like us. Why? Because our frailty makes us ready to show compassion to fellow sufferers. Pastoral discouragement allows us to identify with our people.

2. Because of the Weighty Nature of Our Work

If pastoral ministry were simply reading books, preaching sermons, and attending meetings, there would be no reason to be discouraged. But when we consider the weighty calling of shepherding souls, of leading God’s people, of preaching to the lost, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed.

Who can bear the weight of souls without sometimes sinking to the dust? Passionate longings after men’s conversion consume the soul with anxiety and disappointment. To see the hopeful turn aside, the godly grow cold, professors abusing their privileges, and sinners waxing more bold in sin—are not these sights enough to crush us to the earth?Ibid., 170.

As a pastor, dealing with sin is discouraging. You preach and you counsel, but unless the Spirit brings repentance, you are helpless. So you pray, and teach, and wait for God to move. This is a burden, a daily anxiety we feel for the sake of our people.

Sometimes the more earnest you are about your work as a pastor, the more liable you are to be discouraged as you see how feeble and fruitless your efforts can be. Not only that, but pastoral ministry feels endless. Until we bury people, the work of shepherding them to the Celestial City will be ongoing, and we will be anxious for their souls.

Ours is more than mental work — it is heart work, the labor of our inmost soul. How often, on Lord’s-day evenings, do we feel as if life were completely washed out of us! After pouring out our souls over our congregations, we feel like empty earthen pitchers which a child might break.Ibid. 

Pastoral ministry is different from being an engineer or an accountant. You can compartmentalize your life from your work in those vocations. But as pastors we have to engage our hearts, our minds, and our bodies in the work. We have to be present with our people and give of ourselves to them. The ongoing toll of this will wear anyone out.

3. Because Leadership Can Be Lonely

The more a pastor gives himself to the things of the Lord, the more likely he is to find himself alone. Spurgeon describes his experience:

A minister fully equipped for his work, will usually be a spirit by himself, above, beyond, and apart from others. The most loving of his people cannot enter into his peculiar thoughts, cares, and temptations. Men of God who rise above their fellows into nearer communion with heavenly things, in their weaker moments feel the lack of human sympathy.Ibid., 170-171.

As those who have been set apart by the congregation to prayer and the ministry of the Word, pastors can find themselves isolated. You want to cultivate godliness in your people, but this takes time, and it’s hard to be patient. Additionally, as those who have authority, your people will probably treat you differently. People feel like they can’t act normally around you. As much as you try to relate to them, they will still view you as their pastor.

So, Spurgeon advises, make sure you build fellowship with other like-minded pastors.

This loneliness, which if I mistake not is felt by many of my brethren, is a fertile source of depression; and our ministers’ fraternal meeting, and the cultivation of holy intercourse with kindred minds will with God’s blessing, help us greatly to escape the snare.Ibid., 171.

Spurgeon was intentional about spending time with other pastors. His day off was Wednesday, and he would often spend the day with another pastor. And he was part of several pastoral fellowships around London. This was not simply because Spurgeon was an extrovert; this was about persevering in the ministry.

4. Because of the Inactive Nature of Our Work

It’s a privilege to study, to read, to write, and to meet with people. But the lack of physical activity can also be a challenge. Spurgeon, who was probably overweight for most of his life, can attest to this.

There can be little doubt that sedentary habits have a tendency to create despondency in some constitutions. To sit long in one posture, poring over a book, or driving a quill, is in itself a taxing of nature; but add to this a badly-ventilated chamber, a body which has long been without muscular exercise, and a heart burdened with many cares, and we have all the elements for preparing a seething cauldron of despair, especially in the dim months of fog.Ibid.

I’ve known pastors who have poured themselves into their work—studying, counseling, and preaching—while neglecting their bodies. And some have cut short their ministries because of ulcers, back pain, and all kinds of other problems. As those who focus on spiritual matters, it’s easy to think that our bodies are unimportant. Spurgeon probably had that attitude for most of his younger years. Sadly, he died at 57. I wonder what the Lord might have done if he had lived to be 70!

As Paul says to Timothy, physical training is also of “some value” (1 Tim. 4:8). If you want to prolong your ministry, Spurgeon would encourage you to look for opportunities to be active, especially out in nature.

A day’s breathing of fresh air upon the hills, or a few hours’ ramble in the beech woods’ umbrageous calm, would sweep the cobwebs out of the brain of scores of our toiling ministers who are now but half alive. A mouthful of sea air, or a stiff walk in the wind’s face, would not give grace to the soul, but it would yield oxygen to the body, which is next best.Ibid., 172.

As those who spend much of our time in front of a computer screen and in books, this is a good reminder: go for a hike, plant a garden, take evening walks. These sorts of tasks not only keep me active, but they also end up being some of the best times for spiritual meditation.

Conclusion 

Brothers, don’t be surprised at your discouragement. It’s part of the burden you carry as a pastor. When you experience these dark seasons, trust that God will accomplish good through it, in you and in your people. Turn to him, believe his promises, receive his comfort, and then minister out of the comfort you’ve received.

The lesson of wisdom is, be not dismayed by soul-trouble. Count it no strange thing, but a part of ordinary ministerial experience. Should the power of depression be more than ordinary, think not that all is over with your usefulness. Cast not away your confidence, for it hath great reward.Ibid., 178.

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Within certain corners of the evangelical and Reformed world, natural law has sometimes been viewed with suspicion—as though appealing to nature and reason undermines the authority of Scripture, or as though it represents a concession to Roman Catholic moral theology that downplays human sinfulness and hesitates to speak from the Bible in public life. The suspicion is understandable, at times, but it is historically uninformed.

For most of the Christian tradition—including the Reformed tradition—natural law was simply taken for granted as a moral theory. It was situated within the doctrine of creation, and it was assumed in the works of Luther, Calvin, the Reformed Orthodox, and the broader tradition of Reformed Scholasticism.John T. McNeill, “Natural Law in the Teaching of the Reformers,” The Journal of Religion 26, no. 3 (1946): 168–82. Even where the term itself has fallen out of favor in contemporary Protestant thought, the concept persists under alternative labels: creation order, general revelation, creation ethic. The conceptual substance remains even when the vocabulary changes, mostly because Christianity will, inexorably, rely upon its tenets if it hopes to engage secular society.

The real problem today is not that natural law is misguided or unbiblical. The problem is that it has largely disappeared from our theological vocabulary. And when it disappears, several consequences result. Our arguments in the public square become weaker, which goes a long way toward explaining why evangelicals were caught flat-footed in the marriage debates. Our doctrine of creation becomes thinner. In its outward-facing interactions, the church can begin to look as though it inhabits its own moral ghetto, as though Christian ethical claims are believable only by faith and untethered to reality as it actually is. Worse still, we end up with a truncated understanding of how God reveals himself and a narrow account of Scripture’s sufficiency—one that leaves us scrambling for Bible verses when confronted with questions like IVF that the Bible does not directly address.

But natural law is not a threat to Scripture. Properly understood, it is one of Scripture’s own teachings. And the place to begin making that case is Psalm 19.

What Is Natural Law? 

Before turning to our anchor text in Psalm 19, a working definition is in order: Natural law is the objective moral order established by God and woven into the fabric of creation. It reveals the orderly design of creation, the goods toward which human beings are ordered, and the moral norms that distinguish right from wrong. Theologically, this moral order reflects the wisdom and character of the Creator. Anthropologically, human beings—made in the image of God—possess rational faculties that allow us to recognize aspects of this moral order through the exercise of reason.

A qualification is immediately necessary. Because of sin, our perception of this order is darkened. Human beings suppress the truth. But our rational capacities are not destroyed. Historic Reformed theology holds that the intellect is wounded, not extinguished. Through God’s common grace, people remain capable of recognizing basic moral truths—which is why societies can still distinguish between good and evil, make laws, condemn injustice (think of the Nuremberg trials), and pursue the common good. Sinful humanity suppresses the truth in unrighteousness, not in total ignorance. Scripture portrays humanity’s opposition to the natural law not primarily as a knowledge problem but as a problem of the will.

In short, creation speaks morally because creation was designed morally. And as rational creatures, we are endowed with capacities to know basic truths about the moral order.

Psalm 19: A Map of Moral Knowledge 

Psalm 19 is often read as a beautiful poem about nature and Scripture. But it is doing something much deeper. It provides a map of how moral knowledge works. David structures the psalm in three movements: creation (vv. 1–6), in which the moral order is revealed; covenant (vv. 7–10), in which the moral law is specified in inscripturated form; and conscience (vv. 11–14), in which the moral law is internalized. The psalm moves from cosmic revelation to covenantal legal revelation to personal application. Or we could categorize God’s revelation as visual (creation), verbal (law-code), and visceral (conscience). All told, Psalm 19 offers a remarkably sophisticated moral theology, and we should marvel at how the Bible speaks about the way God reveals himself and makes us capable of receiving that revelation. Psalm 19 shows us how God reveals moral order in creation, clarifies it in his Word, confronts the human heart, and how visual, verbal, and visceral revelation all harmonize as expressions of God’s moral law.

Creation as Moral Revelation 

David begins with creation. “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork” (Ps. 19:1). The psalmist describes creation as a kind of universal proclamation. But there is a fascinating paradox: verse 3 says, “There is no speech, nor are there words.” Creation speaks—but without words. It communicates through what we might call visual revelation. And note the language of verse 2: “Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night reveals knowledge.” Creation is not whispering. It is pouring forth speech—an abundance of revelation. Consider the manifold ways that even sinful human beings marvel at creation and act intelligibly within it.

Some evangelicals today, out of good intentions, are hesitant to say that natural revelation actually conveys moral knowledge. They want to protect God’s special revelation and uphold the doctrine of sin. But David has no such reticence. He explicitly says that night after night reveals knowledge. He is speaking declaratively and descriptively about what is true objectively. This revelation is universal. No language or cultural barrier prevents it. It reaches everyone by virtue of their humanity participating in God’s order. It is what C.S. Lewis called the “Tao” in The Abolition of Man—a cosmic moral reality pervades human existence.

This is what theologians call general revelation—the idea that creation itself testifies to the Creator’s moral law. Genesis 1–2, together with the Noahic Covenant, grounds and then reasserts the normative intelligibility of creation toward its proper ends. Human beings thrive when they live in harmony with their natural state as created beings, utilizing their abilities effectively for their intended purposes. A fish, for example, is most free in water rather than on land. And the same is true for human beings: the propensity to push against the created limits of our nature may feel like freedom, but in time those limits have a way of reimposing themselves—often at great cost to those who believed the elimination of limits was liberation, when in fact it leads to bondage.

Paul echoes this idea of creational witness in Romans 1: “What can be known about God is plain to humanity, because God has shown it to them. His invisible attributes—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly perceived in the things that have been made” (vv. 19–20). And Paul’s point is not how little people know. It is how much they know. Humanity is “without excuse” (v. 20). The problem is not ignorance. The problem is suppression. Sinners suppress the truth in unrighteousness (v. 18). They push it down, but the truth keeps resurfacing—like trying to hold a beach ball underwater. We see this today in our society’s growing unease with the consequences of transgender ideology and the fallout that comes from the dissolution of the family.

Scripture does not teach that nature fails in its task. Scripture does indeed testify to the fallenness of sinners, but the problem is not that nature fails to reveal. The failure lies with the creature. We refuse what is plainly visible and morally binding in what has been revealed.

Psalm 19 is not merely praising nature’s beauty. It describes moral design embedded in reality. The sun follows its course. The heavens operate with regularity and purpose. Creation is ordered. And the same God who orders the heavens orders human life. Creation is therefore normatively thick—not morally neutral; universally intelligible in that believer and unbeliever alike can access it; and ontologically grounded in that morality corresponds to reality. What Christians insist is true is not merely true for Christians but for everyone. This is the basic insight of natural law: moral norms track with creational design.

Covenant Law Specifies Creational Law 

At verse 7 of Psalm 19, the psalm suddenly shifts. The name of God changes from Elohim, the God of creation, to YHWH, the covenant Lord. The focus moves from the heavens to the Torah. The implication is clear: if creation provides moral order, the written law—special revelation—provides moral clarity. Creation shows us that a moral structure exists. Scripture specifies what obedience looks like.

David describes the law with six attributes: perfect, sure, right, pure, clean, and true. These words describe more than rules. They describe the moral character of divine revelation. If the first movement of Psalm 19 concerns visual revelation, this second movement concerns God’s verbal revelation. And crucially, special revelation does not contradict creation or general revelation. It presupposes both and clarifies them.

The Decalogue (or Ten Commandments) illustrates this principle. Many of the commandments assume creational realities. The prohibition of murder presupposes the image of God as established in Genesis 1 and 9. The norms of marriage—complementarity, exclusivity, permanency—point back to Genesis 2. Sabbath observance points back to creation itself. The written law does not invent morality. It codifies what is present in creation. It was not permissible to murder before the sixth commandment was given; the sixth commandment merely makes explicit what the creation order already implies.

Psalm 19 therefore corrects two common errors. The first is natural law without Scripture, which leads to vagueness and distortion—Aristotle, after all, used natural law reasoning to defend slavery. The second is Scripture detached from creation, which risks portraying moral law as arbitrary, as if God imposed rules without reference to human nature. But Scripture repeatedly teaches that God’s written law reflects the same wisdom that structured creation. The law is not arbitrary. It is the verbal expression of the wisdom that made the world.

Conscience as Moral Witness 

In the final movement, the psalm turns inward—it turns toward the visceral, felt reality of the moral witness located within our interior recesses, the conscience. The focus shifts from the cosmos and the law code to the human heart. “Who can discern his errors? Declare me innocent from hidden faults” (v. 12). David recognizes that the law confronts the inner life. He speaks of hidden faults, presumptuous sins, the words of the mouth, and the meditation of the heart. Here we encounter the moral law applied to the conscience.

Paul describes this reality in Romans 2:15: Gentile non-believers “show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness.” Conscience does not create moral law. It registers moral law. It is a moral awareness system. And so Psalm 19 gives us a remarkably coherent framework: creation reveals that a moral order exists; Scripture clarifies that order and names our duties before God; and conscience, coinciding with both creation and the written law, applies moral knowledge to the human heart.

Faith and Reason from the Same Divine Source 

Beneath this framework lies a deeper theological truth. God created human beings in his image with rational faculties capable of perceiving the moral structure of the world. Reason is therefore not autonomous—it is a creaturely faculty dependent on God’s design and subordinate to his revelation. But subordinate to Scripture does not mean contradictory. Faith and reason come from the same divine source. Scripture clarifies and corrects what reason perceives and misperceives in creation. When reason functions properly, it recognizes the moral truths embedded in creation. Scripture then authoritatively articulates those truths. Faith and reason are not rivals. Special revelation and general revelation are not rivals. They are gifts of God, designed to work together and emanating from one divine source.

This is precisely where natural law fits. Natural law simply describes how human beings, using reason, can recognize aspects of the moral order woven into creation. God is not schizophrenic. There is not one moral code for non-Christians and another for Christians. There is one moral order known through three distinct modes: creation, the law code, and conscience. The God who authored Scripture is the same God who authored creation. Truth discovered by sound reason and truth revealed in Scripture cannot ultimately conflict, because both proceed from the same divine Author. Which means that when Christians speak about morality, we are not proposing something strange or unnatural. We are not imposing an alien ethic on the world. We are telling the world what is true about itself.

And there’s a warning for when we depart from the natural law: All secular and progressive moralities are not only violations of Scripture, but they are also absurd and irrational. Paul says that persistent rejection of the moral law leads individuals to become “futile in their thinking” (Rom. 1:21) and to social destruction (Rom. 1:22–31).

In contrast, our moral claims are not alien to the world. They are fitted to the world we actually live in. Christian morality is morality. Christian morality is reality. Period.

The major point is this simply this: Psalm 19 refuses both natural law without Scripture and Scripture severed from creation.

Why Natural Law Still Matters 

What difference does this make for the church?

First, natural law provides a shared moral grammar. When Christians argue for justice, human dignity, or the sanctity of life, we are not introducing foreign ideas into public life. We are appealing to truths embedded in creation itself.

Second, natural law helps us articulate the moral logic of Scripture. Behind the prohibition of murder lies a deeper moral reality—human life is a basic good, grounded in the image of God. Natural law helps us see and articulate the underlying structure often embedded within Scripture’s commands.

Third, natural law exposes cultural contradictions. A society that loudly proclaims fairness and equality while allowing biological males to dominate female athletic competitions, for example, has abandoned the very principles it claims to defend. When our culture says we may take the life of a child eighteen weeks inside the womb but that a child eighteen weeks outside the womb deserves protection, we can name that for what it is: an absurd, irrational conclusion. Life is life at every stage. Natural law exposes bad arguments.

Fourth, natural law deepens discipleship. When we teach ethics, we should not merely present a list of prohibitions. We should teach the goodness of God’s design. Sexual ethics is not merely a series of negations; it is about learning to steward a good gift within the design God created.

Fifth, natural law reminds us that joy and human flourishing follow from aligning ourselves with the moral order. God did not design his law as an arbitrary burden. He designed it for our joy. Obedience to God is not the suppression of our humanity—it is its fulfillment.

Sixth, natural law undergirds civil society. Even fallen societies establish laws, punish injustice, form families, pursue knowledge, and build civilizations, because creation itself presses toward order.

Seventh—and I save this for last deliberately—natural law may persuade unbelievers, but it may not. The fundamental human problem is not merely intellectual; it is volitional. Sinful wills resist moral truth. If someone has not arrived at their moral conclusions by way of reason, they will not be reasoned out of them. This means our use of natural law is not primarily apologetical.

It is first catechetical. Natural law trains Christians to recognize the moral order of God’s world and to understand why God’s commands are good. It forms moral imagination. It teaches believers to see reality rightly. And in doing so, it prepares us to speak truthfully and confidently in a confused age.

The Gospel and the Climax of Natural Law 

Natural law does not replace the gospel, but it prepares the ground for it.Andrew T. Walker, “The Gospel and the Natural Law,” December 8, 2020, First Things, https://firstthings.com/the-gospel-and-the-natural-law/. As theologian David VanDrunen writes, “If a contemporary world tempted to nihilism is to hear the gospel—really to hear it—it needs to understand that the world actually has a purpose and that the evil and suffering surrounding us are not the way things are supposed to be. There is nothing more important for the church than proclaiming the good news of salvation for the world in Jesus Christ. Far from undermining the message, natural law provides the scaffold.”David VanDrunen, “Natural Law for Reformed Theology: A Proposal for Contemporary Reappropriation,” Journal of Reformed Theology 9, no. 2 (2015): 129, https://doi.org/10.1163/15697312-00902018.

Natural law helps supply the framework that makes the majesty of the gospel intelligible to a broken world. It helps people recognize that something in the world is wrong. And once they see the moral mess of the world around them and their own moral debt as a violation against the law of God that saddles the conscience with guilt, the gospel becomes intelligible. The gospel announces that the Creator has come to redeem his creation.

And here we arrive at the climax. The moral order of creation is not upheld by an abstract principle. It is upheld by a person. Christ is the one through whom all things were made, in whom all things hold together, and who upholds the universe by the word of his power. The moral order of the world is not an impersonal system. It is sustained by the living Word of God.

Natural law can establish that a moral order exists. But it cannot explain why that order will ultimately prevail, why it is worth defending at personal cost, or why human beings—broken as we are—keep trying to give our lives a purpose. For that, you need the news that the Author of the moral order has entered history, has borne the accumulated weight of human moral failure, has assuaged divine wrath, and has walked out of a tomb a living, breathing human being. The resurrection is thus not an accessory to natural law. It is the reason for Christian moral confidence, because it tells us that creation is not evacuated of substance or purpose.

C.S. Lewis once called the moral structure of the universe the “Tao.” But later in life, he reflected on that concept and asked a remarkable question: “Is not the Tao the Word Himself—considered from a particular point of view?”Letter to Clyde S. Kilby, January 11, 1961, quoted in Michael L. Peterson, C.S. Lewis and the Christian Worldview (Oxford University Press, 2020), 74. And Lewis is exactly right. The natural law is not an abstraction. It is the imprint of Christ upon creation.

Conclusion 

When we speak about natural law, we are not talking about something foreign to the Christian faith. We are talking about the moral structure God built into the world. Psalm 19 shows us that creation declares it, Scripture clarifies it, and conscience registers it. And ultimately, Christ fulfills it. Christians should not be embarrassed to speak of natural law—we should put it in its proper place. The natural law is not a summons to de-center the Bible in our public pronouncements, nor is it an invitation to a Christless moral law—it is an entry point that leads people to the question of who the source of that moral law is. We should want the world to recognize moral truth because the world and its creatures were designed to do so. And when we speak about morality in public life, we are not introducing something strange. We are pointing people back to the order that God placed in his creation from the beginning.

This essay will be published in a forthcoming volume by the author. Crossway has granted permission for it to be published in this format.

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Pastor, you may have no intention of ever publishing a book or an article, and that’s fine. But you’re already a writer.

You write sermons, emails, Sunday school lessons, elder updates, notes of encouragement, and maybe the occasional devotional or article for your church. (Did I mention emails?) Some of your writing is public. Most of it is ordinary and unseen. But all of it uses words to serve people. And each of us can grow in that.

So let me offer nine marks of a healthy paragraph—shorthand for words people will want to read. Writing is an art form, which means taste and judgment are involved. So these are not laws. They’re simply lessons I’ve picked up through editing, practice, and making plenty of mistakes along the way.

I’m aiming especially at pastoral writing—not literary fiction, academic prose, or the generic thing we often call “content.” In other words, the kind of writing that’s targeted at serving people’s souls.

1. Be Clear

If people don’t know what you’re saying, it doesn’t matter how stylishly you say it. Cleverness can be a gift, and a memorable phrase can help something stick. Just think of famous written phrases like “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose,”This saying is taken from the writings of Jim Elliott, a missionary who was martyred while attempting to reach the Auca Indians with the gospel in the jungles of Ecuador in the early days of 1956. or “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.”This saying from John Piper figures prominently in his preaching and writing, including especially his book Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist (Crossway, 2025). But cleverness can also take over and overwhelm clarity. This happens when you use a phrase because it sounds good, even if it sends the paragraph sideways.

Before you write, simply ask, What am I trying to say? If you can’t answer that clearly, then your reader certainly won’t be able to either. As pastors, we often write from an overflow of concern. We see the angles. We anticipate objections. And feeling the need to say everything, we can fail to say something—or at least fail to say it well.

2. Get Concrete

One of the easiest ways to improve a paragraph is to ask, How can I make this more concrete? Pastors can drift into religious language that’s accurate but abstract. We write about “faithfulness in the Christian life” or “gospel-centered community” or “a culture of this or that.” Those phrases are fine—but just know they hover above the ground. Try naming the actual thing. “A tired mom opening her Bible before the kids wake up.” “A member choosing not to repeat what he heard.” “An older saint writing a note to a discouraged college student.” Concrete words are your friends. They give the reader something to see.

This is why examples are crucial. If you write, “The redeemed people of God should encourage one another,” that’s true. But if you write, “So walk across the room after church. Send the text. Write the note. Tell the weary saint, ‘I see God’s grace in you,’”—now people are visualizing obedience.

3. Deploy Verbs

Often the best way to make a sentence stronger is to make the action clearer.

If you write, “There is a need for Christians to have a greater awareness of the importance of prayer,” that sentence is true—and stilted. Just try: “Christians need to pray.” Maybe that’s too blunt for your final version, but at least it’s crystal clear.

Much clutter hides inside phrases like “there is,” “there are,” “it is important,” “we need to be aware,” “in light of the fact that,” and so on. These phrases aren’t always wrong, but they often signal too much scaffolding. Find the actor. Find the action. Put them near each other. “Christ comforts sinners.” “Members bear burdens.” “Shepherds know their sheep.” Or as Jamie Dunlop has written, “Elders lead ministry. Deacons facilitate ministry. The congregation does ministry.”Jamie Dunlop, “Deacons: Shock-Absorbers and Servants,” 9Marks, March 31, 2010, https://www.9marks.org/article/deacons-shock-absorbers-and-servants/.

Perhaps you worry that active verbs will make your writing feel simplistic. In truth, they’ll simply help it move. And that matters in pastoral writing because we’re often dealing with weighty truths that need clean sentences, not inflated ones.

4. Stay Organized

Once you know what you’re trying to say, you still must decide how to arrange it. This is where a lot of pastoral writing gets messy. We care about the topic. We see every side road. We keep finding one more illustration, one more quote, one more paragraph to squeeze in. Soon the piece has more furniture than the room can hold.

Outline what you’re writing, even if it’s loose. What comes first? What must be explained before the next thing will make sense? What belongs here, and what belongs somewhere else—some other paragraph, some other piece, or maybe just between you and the Lord?

A good paragraph should have one job. If you’re trying to explain the problem, answer an objection, give an illustration, and land the plane, it probably needs to be broken up.

5. Get Moving

So much writing takes too long to start. You can almost feel the writer warming up on the page. “In our day and age, there are many important issues that Christians need to think through carefully.” Okay, sure, but that sentence could introduce almost anything.

Consider starting closer to the pressure point. Instead of, “The reality of the matter is that it’s easy for many Christians to struggle with prayer,” maybe write, “Most Christians feel guilty about prayer.” Instead of, “Conflict is, without doubt, one of the most difficult realities that local churches face in a fallen world,” maybe write, “Some church conflicts begin with sin, but many begin with unclear expectations.”

I’m not saying every opening sentence needs to grab the reader. But it should do something: create interest, establish direction, or put pressure on the question you’re trying to answer. Sometimes your real beginning is buried in paragraph two or three because you had to write your way into the piece.

6. Vary the Rhythm

There is a musicality to good writing. You may have seen an image of Gary Provost’s paragraph about writing, with each sentence color-coded based on length. Even without the colors, his point is worth hearing:

This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety.

Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this; it is important.

So write with a combination of short, medium, and long sentences. Create a sound that pleases the reader’s ear. Don’t just write words. Write music.This illustration is taken from Gary Provost, 100 Ways to Improve Your Writing (Penguin Random House Australia, 1985).

That may be a little overwrought, but the point is: mix it up. One of the best ways to check rhythm is simply to read your writing out loud. Your ear will catch what your eye excuses. You’ll hear the repeated word. You’ll feel the sentence that starts to drag. You’ll notice the phrase that sounds officious and stuffy rather than pastoral and clear.

Here’s a little tip. If you’re going to list two or three or four things—adjectives, for example—try putting the one-syllable word at the end. It helps the sentence land with a little more force. A few sentences ago I said, “You’ll notice the phrase that sounds officious and stuffy rather than pastoral and clear.” I could have switched the last two adjectives and said, “rather than clear and pastoral.” But that kind of fizzles since you’re moving from one syllable to three. Instead of “clear and pastoral,” say “pastoral and clear.” Or rather than writing “Jesus is full of love, compassion, and mercy,” say “Jesus is full of compassion, mercy, and love.” Do you hear the difference? It’s not an ironclad law, but it’s usually a good instinct.

7. Be Warm

This one matters a lot for pastors. We write on behalf of elder boards, churches, and ministries—and before long, we can start sounding more institutional than pastoral.

Of course, careful language is vital. But careful doesn’t have to mean clinical. Instead of saying, “The elders are prayerfully initiating a process of member care in response to prolonged disengagement,” you might just say, “The elders are trying to care for members we haven’t seen in a while.” Instead of, “Your attendance at our regular gatherings has been inconsistent,” you might say, “We’ve missed you, and I wanted to check in.”

The warmer sentence may not be the final sentence. Sometimes you do need more precision or punch. But start by trying to sound conversational, like a human being.

8. Revise Humbly

Give yourself enough time to come back to what you’ve written. Most first drafts are too long. Mine usually are. The magic is in the edit, because it forces you to ask, Did I already make this point? Is this sentence doing anything? Could I say this with fewer words?

When you edit, look for words that aren’t earning their keep. “At this point in time” can become “now.” “Due to the fact that” can become “because.” “In the event that” can become “if.” You can even shorten individual words to enhance flow. Instead of “however,” you can say “though.” Instead of “nevertheless,” you can say “nonetheless” (one syllable shorter!), or even better, “still.”

I’ve felt this most often as an editor. So many articles aren’t wrong; they’re just bloated. They carry one more illustration, quote, qualification, or paragraph the writer couldn’t bear to lose. Honestly, a lot of modern Christian books would be better if they were simply shorter—like, a quarter to a third shorter. (And don’t assume “shorter” means “thinner.” Not the same thing. Less is often more.)

When a piece of writing matters, ask someone to read it. Ask, Is the main point clear? Did anything feel confusing, too sharp, too long? Faithful are the wounds of a friend—especially the one who edits you. Good editing preserves a writer’s voice while saving a writer’s face.

9. Write to Serve

Part of serving readers is learning to sound like yourself. Learn from writers you admire, but don’t become a bargain-basement version of them. If you’re funny, be funny when it fits. If you’re not, don’t force it. As with preaching, some of the worst writing happens when you’re trying to sound like someone else.

Immerse yourself in good writing. I’m not sure I’ve ever known a good writer who wasn’t a voracious reader. Read authors you find compelling. Listen to communicators who hold your attention. Ask, What about this works? Then adapt one or two things in your own way.

And then write. There’s no substitute for reps. Write out your sermons, even if you don’t bring a manuscript into the pulpit. Write Sunday school classes, devotional reflections, journal entries—even articles if you have the opportunity.

Don’t wait until you have something grand to say before you practice saying ordinary things well.

Conclusion 

We traffic in words because God has chosen to work through words. From creation to salvation, from his perfect Word to our fallible ones, God loves to turn the lights on through written truth. That’s why we care about words: because we care about souls.

So let’s grow in being those who steward our sentences with care and humility. (And maybe you’re thinking, He should’ve ended with humility and care.)

The post Nine Marks of a Healthy Paragraph: Practical Suggestions for Improving a Pastor’s Writing appeared first on 9Marks.

“How do you pastor members who have extremely sensitive consciences?” Our elders asked this during my pastoral candidacy. They loved and knew their people. I made good use of Romans 14 in reply. But experience did not inform my answer.

Today, after eight years, it does.

Conscience is our moral faculty that assesses what is good and badThis definition is from Kevin DeYoung, The Art of Turning: From Sin to Christ for a Joyfully Clear Conscience, pp. 13–14.—a unique feature of our humanity, not a bug. But the conscience can be buggy. A conscience may be seared so that an alarm does not sound when it should (1 Tim. 4:2). Or it may go off needlessly.

I’ve met church members who are hard on themselves. Like radar that mistakes birds for bombers, their consciences hold them in a state of emergency. They live under the threat of God’s judgment. They apologize a lot. Some are hard on others, too. Like air traffic controllers with defective equipment, they cry danger when there is none. They accuse a lot. They may mean well. Or they may despise rather than welcome their brothers and sisters (Rom. 14:10). The issues are many. Intensity levels vary.

How do we pastor members with extremely sensitive consciences? Our mind may jump immediately to the counseling appointment. We’ll get there. When we do, we’ll make good use of Paul’s model and instruction in Romans 14. But as I thought about my own pastoring, the whole of the ministry came into view.

Here are four venues for pastoring especially sensitive consciences.

1. Pastor the Conscience at the Front Door 

We meet all kinds of consciences at the front door—that is, the membership class, a newcomers’ reception, or conversations after the service and over coffee. Each conscience is shaped by a different upbringing, the preaching they’ve been under, and the part of the country they’re moving from. Those with especially sensitive consciences are usually new believers or Christians deeply shaped by people who played a key role in their salvation or growth.

Here are a few ways to pastor the conscience at your church’s front door.

Speak Joyfully of God’s Liberating and Transforming Grace 

Our pews are lined with stories of burdened consciences set free by grace through the Word. This includes many who traveled in especially strict fundamentalist circles. You never know what the Lord will do in the life of your next guest. Let the joy of this good news be the first note you strike. Everyone needs to hear it, especially those with sensitive consciences.

Tell Guests What to Expect and What You Expect 

This is just good hospitality. Teach on your Confession of Faith (what you believe together) and your Membership Covenant (how you live together). Get specific. Use Albert Mohler’s “Theological Triage” to illustrate why your church does not treat all differences alike.Albert Mohler, “Theological Triage.” 9Marks, 2010. https://www.9marks.org/article/theological-triage/. Explain and illustrate how you guard the gospel by granting differences on tertiary matters.

Know Your Region and Run Allergy Tests 

“I don’t like the music” was something I was used to hearing in church work. But “God doesn’t like the music” was new to my ears after moving to my region.

We speak with guests about the priority of the congregation’s voice and the enhancing role of music. One guest asked, “Would the elders be willing to sign a statement stating they would never change the music at the church?” With love and candor, I replied, “No, we would not.” I explained, and he joined. He made no trouble when change came.

Distinguish Between Your Church Culture and Your Church’s Convictions 

The topic of music illustrates this point as well. For years, we were well-led from the piano. In our search for a vocational director for congregational singing, we were flexible to be led by piano or guitar. We needed the right man with the right convictions. Understanding the sensitivity of some guests to what’s appropriate for the church’s worship, I’d say this in our receptions: “At Heritage, we are jealous to guard the congregation’s voice in our singing on Sunday. We’re led by piano. Down the road, we could be led by guitar. But our commitment to singing will remain.”

Speak Lovingly to, for, and About Your Congregation—Tough Love Included  

I don’t let my children condescend to one another. Neither do we despise one another as church members (Rom. 14:1, 10). We want our guests to pick up on a spirit of love and mutual affection in their earliest interactions with our church. This may require tough love at times. This doesn’t happen often, but sometimes a member lets their guard down with the pastor and makes a joke about members who take issue with alcohol (or vice versa). I don’t laugh. Sometimes I correct the attitude on the spot. They usually thank me later.

2. Pastor the Conscience in the Pulpit 

God sanctifies consciences through his Word, primarily through the pulpit. As James Montgomery Boice is famous for saying, church leaders overestimate what they can achieve in a short period but underestimate what can be done over the long term. That applies to shaping consciences as well.

Here are a few ways to pastor the conscience from the pulpit.

Talk About, Teach on, and Speak to the Conscience  

We don’t preach to rocks. Or animals. We preach to people with consciences that can both accuse and defend them—accurately or inaccurately (Rom. 2:14–15). So, let’s take our cues from the apostles who spoke about their own consciences in pursuit of a hearing: “My conscience is clear” (2 Cor. 1:12). Warn the flock by speaking of the “insincerity of liars whose consciences are seared,” unable to feel (1 Tim. 4:2). Appeal for purity by warning against a “defiled” conscience that approves what is evil and rejects what is good (Titus 1:15). Finally, preach the joy of a conscience cleansed by the blood of Jesus with which we draw near to God (Heb. 10:22). In short, be sure the conscience gets airtime in your preaching.

Understand Your Context but Never Underserve the Text 

Do you have members who are teetotalers? Your audience should inform how you preach on Jesus’s transformation of water into wine in John 2:1–11. But don’t fail to preach the joy of the kingdom captured in the gift of wine. Be careful to avoid embracing strained interpretations to avoid touchy topics. Yes, the wine Jesus made was an alcoholic beverage, miraculously well-aged even. He saved the best for last (2:10).

Manage Your Church’s Overton Window by Working Through Books of the Bible 

Every community has an Overton window—a window of acceptable ideas and speech.This idea is commonly used in discussions of what is politically possible at any moment based on what ideas are acceptable to the voting public. Joseph Overton suggested that politicians stay inside this window of acceptable ideas to avoid coming off as too extreme. Politicians will also strategize for how to move the Overton window to make currently unacceptable ideas seem attractive. By way of application, expositional preaching is the way we seek for God’s Word to define what is right and wrong, good and bad. Are there taboo topics in your church? If you’re doing book-by-book exposition, God eventually brings them up. Thankfully, when your text puts you outside the Overton window, you’re in good company. Here’s a suggestion: when you find your text outside the window, slow down. For my church, I slowed down in our series through Colossians. In four sermons through 2:16–23, we defined legalism, considered the various ways we undermine Scripture’s sufficiency, and mapped the path for deep inward change.The following four sermons are an example of slowing down in a series to deal more surgically with a subject raised by the text. “The Problem of Add-On Christianity,” Colossians 2:16–23; “The Problem of Ultra-Biblical Christianity,” Colossians 2:17–18; “The Problem of Super-Spiritual Christianity,” Colossians 2:18–19; “The Problem of Extra-Pure Christianity,” 2:20–23; “Union with Christ, Power for Life,” Colossians 3:1–4.

Take Responsibility for the Emotional Temperature of the Church Around Specific Issues 

The regular preacher also bears responsibility for the spirit of these discussions. How you talk is how they will talk. How you feel is how they will feel. Are you walking on eggshells to avoid upsetting people? That’s the kind of church you’ll have. Alternatively, are you feisty and dismissive toward those with more sensitive consciences? In the long term, that’s the kind of church you’ll have.

Don’t Discount the Value of a Little Humor 

Don’t make fun of your differences. But do have some fun with them. One friend’s church was preaching through Genesis and tackled the age of the earth. Church members took different positions, and the topic could have gotten contentious. Here’s what those pastors did. The older pastor taught a lesson titled, “An Old Man for a Young Earth.” The younger pastor—say his name was Joe—taught by a different title, “A Young Man for an Old Earth.” The next week, a church member brought a sign, “Joe is not young, and the earth is not old.” There was nothing malevolent about it. These pastors effectively led their church to hold essentials and get along despite this difference.

3. Pastor the Conscience Around the Elder Table 

Preaching is central, but not enough. Healthy churches need a stable of elders who shepherd the flock of God among them (1 Pet. 5:1–2). If the elders are not getting along on a topic broached by the Sunday sermon, the sheep will know. Elder teams do well to pursue the same mind on specific subjects as well as an overall approach to getting along with differences where they remain.

Here are suggestions for pastoring the conscience around the elder table.

Work Through Your Own Issues First 

Elders are to be examples to the flock, which includes how they relate with one another. Large teams like ours—pushing fifteen to twenty men at times—have a natural disadvantage in dealing with touchy topics. But eventually, taboo topics eat trust. It’s worth the work to get on the same page. Or if you can’t, work to agree on how to relate given your differences.

Know Your Sheep and Know the Scriptures, in That Order 

Every church has its issues. Elder teams can’t master every subject. But teams can get a working handle on the topics that keep coming up among their flock, or don’t but should. Our elders differed on the moral status and practice of alcohol, a reflection of our church’s differences. This was a taboo topic for us. So, we surveyed ourselves as a team to chart the spectrum of convictions and practices, then shared our experiences with alcohol personally and pastorally. Next, we read the relevant Scriptures and summarized our shared observations and differences. Third, we discussed and agreed on a way of relating to one another and the church, given our study. Differences remain, mostly in practice, but this is a non-issue now.

Don’t Let So-called “Matters of Conscience” Sabotage Ethical Discussions 

Elder teams should be able to discern the difference between a debatable matter and a matter of moral significance. A movie that depicts a murder is different than a film that displays a woman’s naked body. Those who object to the latter are not “weaker.” They’re seeing God more clearly, for the pure in heart shall see God (Matt. 5:8). “Pure in heart” is a thing.

Understand the Bible’s Teaching on Worldliness 

What is worldliness? Should the church avoid cultural expressions that come from the world, whether clothes or music? John tells us, “For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world” (1 John 2:16). Worldliness is loving only those who love you back, being anxious about your life, and bickering about who is the greatest (Luke 6:32; 12:22–31; Mark 10:42–44). That kind of thing. Moses came down the mountain and found idolatry, which is worldliness. The music and dancing at the foot of the mountain were problematic because they were to the wrong god (Exod. 32:19).

Equip the Saints for the Work of Ministry in a Body with Diverse Consciences 

In addition to teaching and godly counsel, good books go a long way. I’ve used three. Andy Naselli and J.D. Crowley’s Conscience: What It Is, How to Train It, and Loving Those Who Differ offers a careful unpacking of its title. Our elders used this book to anchor our discussion on conscience issues. For a shorter treatment, try Kevin DeYoung’s The Art of Turning: From Sin to Christ for a Joyfully Clear Conscience. For a longer treatment, read Rediscover the Joy of a Clear Conscience by Christopher Ash. And for children, That Little Voice Inside Your Head by Andy Naselli.

4. Pastor the Conscience Across the Table 

Finally, we reach the one-on-one conversation—across the dinner table, the coffee table, or the table in your office. Here we take our lessons from Paul’s letter to the Romans, his famous fourteenth chapter. I’ve organized these lessons with five words for easy recall when you need them.

Before you head into your next meeting with a sensitive conscience, remember these five words.

Welcome 

With love for sensitive consciences, Paul commands us, “As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him” (Rom. 14:1). Not everyone will. Because of their own over-accusing conscience, they may impose a sense of alienation on themselves. With great hesitation, one brother met with me to ask if it was okay if he stayed in our church even though he was bothered in his conscience by a certain church practice. With a little instruction and a lot of warmth, he remains with us today. Their conscience may condemn them. Others may despise them. Make sure they’re welcome with you.

Warn 

With concern for sensitive consciences, Paul commands them, “Let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him” (Rom. 14:3). This means they cannot leverage Paul’s command to the strong to manipulate the entire church to live just as they do. Neither should they leave the church because someone else has different thoughts or practices on a matter of conscience. This will require maturity on their part and instruction from you on how to discern a debatable matter. One of our elders is fond of asking, “Could a reasonable Christian read the Scriptures and take the other position?” Use that question.

Train 

On one hand, train this brother or sister to honor the Lord by obeying their conscience (Rom. 14:6, 12, 14). Remind them, “Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (14:23). On the other hand, train them to know when it’s time to disobey their conscience.Andy Naselli, “Don’t Always Follow Your Conscience.” Desiring God, 2016. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/dont-always-follow-your-consciencePaul’s choice of the word “weak” indicates that this is not a desirable condition (15:1). Where the conscience is misaligned with God’s Word, the Christian does well to recalibrate their conscience with uncomfortable obedience to Scripture. Concerning bacon, Jesus told Peter to “take up and eat.” Peter replied, “By no means, Lord” (Acts 10:14). But Jesus had the final word: “What God has made clean, do not call common” (Acts 10:15). Jesus is Lord over all, including the conscience.

Refrain 

Paul tells us to welcome the weak in faith, but added, “Do not quarrel over opinions” (Rom. 14:1). Reason with them from the Scriptures, but do not legitimize every opinion with debate. It is tempting. Some claims provoke. Some arguments are downright fanciful. Ask God for wisdom to know when to correct and when not to engage. Paul seemed to know what many of us have learned, that there is no end to such discussions.

Remain 

This is not a condescending command: “We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves” (Rom. 15:1). Or, as one friend put it, “Love them more than you hate where they are at.” Hang in there with them. Members with especially sensitive consciences are not in the way of ministry; they are your ministry. And they are partners in ministry. Learn from their obedience to what they believe the Lord requires.

One Foot in Front of the Other on the Path to a Joyfully Clear Conscience 

The goal in all our efforts is a congregation marked by peace with God and one another.

Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience. (Heb. 10:22)

So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding. (Rom. 14:19)

This takes time. Consider the placement of these exhortations in their respective letters, ten and fourteen chapters in.

So, brothers, mind the front door. Shepherd your people from the front on the Lord’s Day. Pursue a unified front as elders. And get in front of your people one-on-one when they need you. Some with a pestering conscience need help, others need encouragement, and still others need rebuke. Be ready to administer the right medicine for the soul of each patient. And as Paul said, “Be patient with them all” (1 Thes. 5:14).

Walk with these sensitive—and sometimes over-sensitive—souls, one foot in front of the other.

The post Pastoring the Pestering Conscience appeared first on 9Marks.

We launched Wiberg Seminary in Sweden in January 2026—a very humble beginning—with six students in our first course, an introductory course on the Old Testament. And yet I came to this day with great joy and a sense of fulfillment, because this is a vision I have carried for the nineteen years that have passed since I myself was a theology student and first heard of the doctrines of grace—though I didn’t hear about them in the classroom. 

Don’t misunderstand me: I loved studying theology, and I thrived at school. I still think of my teachers with affection and gratitude, even though I eventually came to hold different theological convictions than them on many topics. Nor do I claim to know much about what is taught at other theological institutions in the country or about their approach to theological education. 

So why was it so important to begin a new seminary in Sweden? 

The short answer is: there is no theological education in Sweden that trains men who will lead congregations that hold to the doctrines of grace and the continuity of the Old and New Testaments— particularly from the standpoint of historic Baptist ecclesiology. Nor do I know of any Swedish program that shares our church-centered philosophy and realist epistemology. This justifies the hard work of building something new from the ground up.

There is, of course, a longer answer as to why Sweden needs a new seminary. Like the rest of the West, Sweden continues to reap the consequences of the philosophical shifts coming out of the Enlightenment. Under the influence of people like René Descartes (1596–1650), the center of reality shifted from outside authorities (like divine revelation) to the self. The result today—after many philosophical twists and turns over the last few centuries—is a worldview in which people see themselves as autonomous creators of their own reality. Such a worldview presents challenges when it comes to passing on the faith to the next generation.

A Faith to Receive and Hand Down 

Even as Christians committed to the authority of God’s Word, we are shaped by the autonomous, self-actualizing individualism around us. Therefore, we often struggle with Scripture’s emphasis on the objectivity of our faith and the idea of transmitting it from one generation to the next. Scriptural concepts such as “remembering” are virtually synonymous with holding to right doctrine, whereas verbs such as “forgetting” are associated with defiance, faithlessness, and apostasy (Ps. 78:3–8).

The apostle Paul speaks of the gospel as something he “received” and “delivered” in a formal transmission from teacher to student (1 Cor. 15:3); he exhorts Timothy to “continue in what you have learned” (2 Tim. 3:14); and he urges the Thessalonian church to “stand firm and hold to the traditions” they were taught (2 Thes. 2:15). Likewise, Jude urges believers to “contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3).

Biblical faith is not an individual construction but something received, guarded, defended, and handed down, all in communion with preceding generations. In turn, we have a responsibility not to forget or distort the faith but to hand it down to the next generation.

The Faith That Is Constructed 

Westerners—and statistics suggest Swedes are the worst of all—struggle to understand the Christian faith as something received from preceding generations. We are suspicious of anything that smells of authority, and we assume that everything our fathers believed is false until proven otherwise. So instead of receiving our faith within a confessional tradition, Christians in our society tend to construct and articulate their individual faith through unwritten scripts that govern their behavior and are developed within their social communities. In Sweden, these scripts are unwritten because churches reject all written confessions of faith. The pastor or some other group in the church sets the tone for what is believed. Christians also listen to friends or pick up ideas from famous preachers and digital influencers, yet without any grasp of a coherent theological system.

The result is that nearly everyone who identifies as an “evangelical” in Sweden holds to a faith informed by something other than historic Christian orthodoxy—Hollywood, therapeutic deism, Sabellianism, hyper-dispensationalism, antinomianism, Marcionism, or process theology—even as they remain convinced that they have no creed but the Bible. They denounce confessional traditions as human inventions but lack the ability to distinguish between “matters of first importance” (1 Cor. 15:3) and tertiary theological matters. The faith they profess is only superficially related to the Christianity of the Bible.

The Remedy: Confessional Congregations 

If I have described the problem correctly, then the solution for Sweden cannot simply be a new theological seminary. Rather, the solution is confessional congregations that engage in discipleship guided by the Word of God as it has been taught over the centuries and articulated within a given tradition. The planting of such congregations is the highest priority for those of us who long to see a reformation in Sweden.

These congregations—which today number only a handful in Sweden—will be small and subjected to great pressure from established churches and traditions. Therefore, a new theological seminary is needed to serve these congregations by training pastors who can lead them faithfully. To be sure, the most fundamental aspects of training a pastor—especially their character and pastoral competence—take place within the context of a local church. Yet a congregation may be greatly helped by a seminary that understands and supports the church in its difficult and glorious mission.

The post Why Does Sweden Need a New Theological Seminary? appeared first on 9Marks.

This is the third article of a 3-part series. Read Part 1 and Part 2.

If corporate worship is one of God’s primary means of discipleship for his people, how can believers grow in this area? This is a particularly important question given the threats to corporate worship and our discipleship.

One of the most overlooked tools for growth is honest self-examination—asking ourselves where our habits, patterns, and expectations fall short of the biblical vision for gathered worship.

With that burden in mind, the following fifteen questions serve as a diagnostic instrument for our liturgical discipleship. These questions are not intended to induce unnecessary guilt or promote an unhealthy form of introspection that prompts us to look more to ourselves than to Christ in worship. Nor are they meant to imply that certain (extra-biblical) practices or habits are binding when it comes to corporate worship. Rather, the goal is to grow in the way we participate in God’s gracious means of gathered worship.

These questions fall into three broad categories: preparation for worship, participation in worship, and departure from worship.

Preparation for Worship 

The kind of discipleship that happens in corporate worship—what we might call “liturgical discipleship”—begins long before we enter the church building. Scripture repeatedly urges God’s people to “prepare your hearts” (1 Sam. 7:3, KJV), “set your mind on things above” (Col. 3:2), and “consider how to stir up one another” (Heb. 10:24). Yet preparation is often the most neglected part of worship. Here are four questions to help us see how intentionally we approach the privilege of gathered praise.

1. Prior to Sunday morning, do I orient my heart and my schedule so that I am as prepared as possible—mentally, spiritually, emotionally—to worship with God’s people?

True worship requires intentional recalibration. Preparation is not accidental; it is deliberate, reflecting love for God and his people.

2. Do my Saturday evening activities compromise my ability to worship well on the Lord’s Day?

Careless Saturday nights can lead to careless Sunday mornings. When it’s within our power, we should try to be rested and fully engaged on Sunday morning.

3. Before Sunday, do I make an effort to read the sermon text, familiarize myself with the songs, and plan my giving so that my heart is prepared to worship?

Being well acquainted with the sermon text, songs, and other elements of worship can help truths encountered in the service go deeper into our hearts and minds than they would otherwise.

4. Do I pray for an undistracted mind and a focused heart in anticipation of corporate worship?

Because we live in an age of distraction, intentional prayer is needed for our minds and hearts to stay focused on the Lord.

These questions expose an important reality: worship is not something we merely attend but something we must prepare for.

Participation in Worship 

Corporate worship is not, and must not become, a spectator event. Scripture calls believers to “offer a sacrifice of praise” (Heb. 13:15), “sing to the Lord” (Ps. 98:1), “attend to the public reading of Scripture” (1 Tim. 4:13), and “receive with meekness the implanted word” (Jas. 1:21). The next nine questions help Christians assess how fully they engage during public worship.

5. As worship begins, do I listen attentively to the call to worship, recognizing the privilege of being summoned by God himself?

Worship begins with God’s initiative, not ours. He calls us to listen to his voice and to respond in faith and obedience. Are we freshly amazed at such authority and mercy?

6. Do I actively fight distraction by resisting intrusive thoughts about responsibilities, worries, and upcoming tasks?

Attention to God and his Word is an act of love. May we give him the reverence and awe he deserves.

7. Do I resist cultivating a critical spirit about things I find distracting, distasteful, or personally undesirable?

A critical, judgmental spirit is a worship killer. We must labor to make sure small (non-essential) matters remain as small matters.

8. During corporate prayers, do I track with the flow of thought, adding my “Amen” as I pray along with the person who is leading?

Corporate prayer is not intended to be a performance by a single church leader. Rather, it is an invitation to every member to pray along with the church as a whole as together we enter into the joys, burdens, and petitions that are voiced.

9. During congregational singing, do I offer a joyful noise to the Lord—even when I feel timid or self-conscious?

Singing is not an optional extra; it is an act of obedience that provides mutual encouragement and instruction to your brothers and sisters in Christ.

10. While singing, do I allow the beauty of the music to enhance truth without allowing it to overshadow the truth?

Music serves doctrine, not the other way around.

11. Do I resist judging those on the platform as “performing,” choosing instead to assume the best about their motives?

Charity protects unity in worship.

12. During the sermon, do I listen carefully, asking the Spirit to help me obey while still thinking humbly and critically through the passage being preached?

Preaching is not a one-dimensional exercise by a man who enjoys the sound of his own voice. Nor is application automatic; it must be purposefully pursued in humility before the Lord.

13. During the Lord’s Supper, am I thinking only of my own experience, or am I also remembering that Christ died to create a people—the brothers and sisters beside me—who will one day share together in the Marriage Supper of the Lamb?

Personal introspection at the Supper is necessary and important, but we must not forget that communion is a communal meal. Treasure the corporate nature of Christ’s command to proclaim the Lord’s death as a worshiping community.

These questions remind us that worship is active, not passive. As a kingdom of priests serving Christ Jesus amid his new covenant temple, God forms us as we participate in such priestly service—with mind, voice, body, and heart.

Departure from Worship 

Corporate worship is not complete when the final “Amen” is spoken. Scripture’s benedictions are not dismissals but sendings: God blesses his people and sends them out into the world to live as witnesses to the power of the gospel. These final two questions help believers consider how Sunday shapes Monday.

14. As the worship service concludes, do I receive the benediction as God sending me into the world to live out the truths I’ve received?

The benediction is a commissioning, not merely a closing remark. Am I listening and heeding God’s closing word of blessing?

15. As I depart, do I intentionally build up the body through purposeful fellowship, prayer, or words of encouragement?

Avoid a speedy exit from corporate worship. Lingering with God’s people after a service can be a disciplined mark of sacrificial love for them.

Conclusion 

Again, these fifteen questions are not meant to burden but to sharpen. We don’t want the focus to be on “how we’re doing in worship” instead of on Christ, the object of our worship. However, when we answer these questions honestly, they can help expose how deeply we need to be reminded of the significance of Lord’s Day worship. And they remind us that corporate worship is not merely about an event we attend but about God’s wisdom on display in Christ. It’s by looking to Christ that we are increasingly formed into his character and likeness.

The post Fifteen Questions to Help You Grow in Corporate Worship: Preparation, Participation and Departure appeared first on 9Marks.

Corporate worship is not neutral ground. It is, as we explored in a previous article, integral to every Christian’s discipleship. It’s not surprising, then, that spiritual opposition abounds in corporate worship. That’s why believers should approach Lord’s Day worship prepared to “fight the good fight of faith” (1 Tim. 6:12).

To help in this fight, we need to be alert to ways in which our corporate worship is spiritually threatened. The threats listed below all relate to the heart, and they can occur at various levels. Furthermore, many of the threats overlap. Regardless, we need to address these threats because they significantly affect our discipleship.

Unbelieving Hearts 

The most serious threat to corporate worship is an unbelieving heart. The gathered church is not merely a crowd; it is God’s worshiping community—those regenerated by the Spirit, reconciled to the Father through Christ, and adopted into his family. Yet Scripture warns repeatedly that some can draw near with their lips while their hearts remain far from God (Isa. 29:13).

The worst-case scenario is a room full of people singing, praying, and listening, yet lacking the new birth. Without regenerated hearts, worship cannot be offered in spirit and truth (John 4:24), for the most impressive outward display of worship is futile if it does not flow from hearts that genuinely treasure Christ. This sobering reality should compel pastors to preach the gospel clearly and call people to humble self-examination, not merely to outward participation.

Pharisaical Hearts 

Another threat to corporate worship is the Pharisaical heart, a heart that’s content to get the externals of worship “just right” while the inner life is marked by pride, hypocrisy, or self-righteousness. Jesus sharply rebuked this posture in the Pharisees who outwardly projected well-manicured spiritual lives but inside were little more than white-washed tombs (Matt. 23:27).

We still face this danger today. One can love doctrinal clarity, song lyrics that are theologically robust, and biblical depth, yet still fall into the deadly trap of worshiping the form rather than the Father. God desires “truth in the inward being” (Ps. 51:6). Therefore, we must cultivate humility, repentance, and dependence on God—not merely competence in our rituals—when we gather for worship.

Experience-Hungry Hearts 

We also have to be on guard against the experience-hungry heart—the worshiper who is less interested in God than how worship makes them feel. These longings take many different forms:

• the desire to be emotionally swept away in the euphoria of a high-energy worship setting;

• the desire for a light-hearted, country-club atmosphere characterized by joking, casual banter, and good vibes;

• the desire to experience something ancient or transcendent through the use of incense, chants, and aesthetically pleasing pageantry.

Not all these desires are inherently sinful. But when worshipers seek a particular mood, vibe, or aesthetic instead of God himself, they approach worship the way one might search for the perfect restaurant: “The menu and ambiance were just right!” Worship is not about curating an experience; it is about encountering the living God through the means he has ordained.

Performance-Oriented Hearts 

The danger of performance cuts across the entire congregation, and we see it in . . .

• preachers who deliver sermons to impress rather than feed;

• musicians who use the worship service like a recital or concert to showcase their natural talents;

• Scripture readers and prayer leaders who focus more on delivery than genuine service to Christ’s body
  ;

• hyper-critical spectators who evaluate each element of the service like judges on a panel.

Critique has its place; in fact, it’s necessary and vital, but not at the expense of true worship. Corporate worship is not a competition or a concert. It’s a holy assembly where every servant seeks to decrease so that Christ may increase.

Distracted Hearts 

On any given Sunday, many Christians resemble Jesus’s friend Martha—overly concerned with logistics, details, and responsibilities, all while failing to treasure the gift of the Lord’s presence with them (Luke 10:38–42). A distracted heart may be busy for Jesus yet inattentive to Jesus.

Distraction during worship—wandering thoughts, anxious concerns about less important matters, constant interior multitasking—gradually forms believers who find it difficult to concentrate long enough to behold the glory of Christ. This is especially a danger for church leaders who preside over various elements of the service. By God’s grace, they should seek to be examples to the congregation of what it means to worship with an undistracted heart.

Uninformed Hearts 

Some hearts are eager to worship but simply lack understanding. They don’t know what a worship service is, why Christians gather the way they do, or how the biblical elements of the service hold together. This is (understandably) where many new believers begin, but they shouldn’t remain there. It’s also why churches must commit themselves to what might be referred to as liturgical discipleship: teaching the biblical, historical, and practical foundations of Christian worship so that God’s people understand what they are doing and why it matters.

One way to carry out this kind of discipleship is through the use of rubrics. Here’s how Bryan Chapell defines rubrics and their purpose:

. . .rubrics are the little directions that appear in the bulletin or are voiced by the worship leader to lead the congregation through the conduct of worship. The rubrics are not the major elements of the worship service, but rather are the instructive transitions that tell the congregation what to do and why. Rubrics verbally tie together key aspects of the worship service, explaining their purpose and sequence in relation to the theme(s) of the entire service. Skilled use of rubrics helps the worship service to make sense and move along with clarity, purpose, and attitudes appropriate for each element.Bryan Chapell, Christ-Centered Worship (Baker Academic, 2017), 203.

By using rubrics, or simple directions, churches can disciple their members to better understand the meaning and purpose of each element of gathered worship.

Passive Hearts 

Some attend worship like spectators. They enjoy the atmosphere, the music, the message, and the people around them, but they don’t actively participate. Their minds are elsewhere. Their voices are faint. And their passive hearts remain unengaged.

Such people watch worship happen but fail to offer themselves as living sacrifices (Rom. 12:1). But for those transformed by the gospel, active participation in corporate worship is not optional. “Let the redeemed of the Lord say so” (Ps. 107:2) as they behold the splendor of God’s mercy in Christ each Lord’s Day!

Naïve Hearts 

One of the most dangerous threats to corporate worship is the naïve assumption that Sunday morning is spiritually safe, peaceful, and insulated from temptation. Many Christians don’t realize that they may face more temptation, more distraction, and more spiritual opposition during the corporate gathering than at any other time during the week.

Worship is warfare. The evil one, as he did throughout the New Testament, works to oppose the ministry of the Word. And it seems that he works overtime when God’s people assemble for worship, seeking to distract, deceive, distort, and dislodge every edifying thought. Therefore, Christians should prepare for spiritual warfare when they gather.

Conclusion 

Each threat listed above has the potential to undermine God’s gift of corporate worship and its role in our discipleship. Therefore, we should ask God to make us a people who are alert, humble, attentive, joyful, and ready to contend for the faith each and every Lord’s Day.

The post Threats to Corporate Worship and Our Discipleship appeared first on 9Marks.

For many Christians, corporate worship and discipleship appear to have little connection. Though it’s called corporate worship, many churchgoers think of it in individualistic terms—“Sure, there are other people in the room with me, but we’re all here for our own experience with Jesus.” Discipleship, meanwhile, is reduced to one-on-one relationships as fellow members spur one another on in Bible reading and prayer (which are obviously good things).

Given how myopically we tend to view worship and discipleship, it’s not surprising that many churches fail to connect the two. But since corporate worship is so spiritually formative, churches should view it as part of a comprehensive approach to discipleship. This is best accomplished through three interrelated stories: the Bible’s story (biblical theology), the church’s story (historical theology), and our own stories (practical theology).

Biblical Theology and Corporate Worship 

Scripture reveals that corporate worship is not peripheral to God’s people but woven into the very purpose of creation and the goal of redemption. Adam is not only created in the imago Dei, or image of God, but also as homo liturgicus, a worshiping person. And Adam’s worship was never intended to remain private. His commission to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1:28) implies the expansion of worshipers to the ends of the earth (cf. Hab. 2:14).

Yet this commission is almost immediately threatened by sin’s entrance onto the scene. After the fall (Gen. 3), the biblical storyline reads like a history of worship under assault: sacred purpose distorted, sacred space defiled, and sacred service redirected toward false gods. But God does not abandon his design. Instead, he initiates a long reclamation project to build a worshiping people through successive covenants. From Noah to Abraham to Moses to King David, God progressively reestablishes access for his people to himself with a renewed call to faithful worship.

Access to God reaches its fulfillment in our Lord Jesus Christ. In him our sacred purpose of enjoying communion with God is restored through his atoning grace and intercessory work at the Father’s right hand. Sacred space is reclaimed as Emmanuel—God with us—tabernacles among us (John 1:14). Sacred service is renewed as believers minister as a royal priesthood and a kingdom of priests (1 Pet. 2:9; Rev. 5:10), following the lead of our chief liturgist, the Lord Jesus (Heb. 8:1).

Finally, Revelation tells of redeemed saints from every nation gathered around the throne in a cosmic “holy of holies,” praising Jesus the Lamb for all eternity. This is the end toward which the entire storyline moves: God glorified through a redeemed community worshiping him together forever.

To neglect the corporate character of worship is not merely to misunderstand a church practice—it is to misunderstand the purpose of creation and redemption. Corporate worship is the divinely intended arena where God forms, nourishes, and gathers his people for his glory. Therefore, churches must help their members grasp the glorious privilege they have each Lord’s Day.

While corporate worship is integral to the Bible’s overarching story, the church’s story reveals how believers through the ages have embraced—and at times forgotten—this sacred calling.

Historical Theology and Corporate Worship 

Nick Needham writes, “Any serious consideration of worship must take into account the history of worship, as a sort of running commentary on Scripture—embodied in practice and preserved in literary monuments, especially liturgies.”Philip Graham Ryken, Derek W. H. Thomas, and J. Ligon Duncan III, ed. Give Praise to God: A Vision for Reforming Worship (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2003), 375. 

For instance, the Bohemian reformer Jan Hus gave his life to recover the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers. This doctrine helps Christians understand why we can pray and sing directly to God rather than through human mediators. Or consider how the clergy-dominated medieval Mass reveals the recurring danger of performative worship. Perhaps recognizing this danger could change our perspective on modern services where a handful of musicians on a stage overshadow or silence the congregation’s voice.

In our day consumerism, individualism, and digital distraction produce their own powerful liturgies that shape worshipers long before they arrive on Sunday. When church leaders ignore this, they leave congregations vulnerable to these competing influences.

Practical Theology and Corporate Worship 

As church members grasp the Bible’s story of worship and the church’s story through the ages, they should increasingly see that congregational worship is God’s gift to them. They are entering the sacred space of Christ’s new covenant temple—his church—where their holy calling is “to proclaim the excellencies” of the One who called them out of darkness and into his marvelous light (1 Pet. 2:9).

This grand vision of worship affects our discipleship in many practical ways. For example, when a believer comes to worship with a heavy heart and sees a brother across the aisle praising Jesus even as he’s suffering from an incurable disease, his own hope is rekindled. Or when a hymn written centuries ago stirs our affections, we remember that a day is coming when we will stand beside its author in the great congregation of the righteous.

May church leaders disciple their flocks to understand and gladly participate in God’s gracious provision of Word-saturated, gospel-adorning corporate worship that magnifies God’s mercy in Christ. And may the Lord’s Day continue to forecast the eternal joy we will one day share around God’s throne.

The post Discipled Every Sunday: The Priority of Corporate Worship in Christian Discipleship appeared first on 9Marks.

Editor’s Note: The following article originally appeared at TGC and is used here with TGC’s permission.

I’m a new elder.

For years, I’ve aspired to the office. I’ve memorized 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1. I’ve read books on eldership and attended elder meetings. But until recently, I’ve never actually served as an elder.

I’ve especially been reflecting on one parable as I begin. It’s probably not at the top of your “Scriptures for elder training” list—it certainly wasn’t on mine. But take a look at Luke 14:7–11, the parable of the wedding feast.

Not Just Banquet Etiquette

Luke 14 isn’t merely about banquet etiquette. Jesus exposes the quiet desire to seek honor from others and asserts that in his kingdom, the way up is down.

If you’re a new elder, you may feel tempted to prove yourself. Taking the low seat means resisting that urge. Here are three ways new elders can do that.

1. Speak Less; Listen More

One of the most practical ways a new elder can take the low seat is with his words.

You’re likely eager. You finally sit at the table. You finally have a vote. Perhaps you’ve aspired to this for many years. As you listen, you notice things that could be improved. You have ideas. You have energy. You want to contribute. That desire isn’t wrong. But it can drift into something else: the urge to prove yourself.

Proverbs 18:13 warns, “If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.” Take time to hear—because you need time to understand. Don’t lose your eagerness. Just let your ears be more eager than your mouth. Hold back your “answers.” Listen long enough to learn.

In Jesus’s parable, the man who takes the high seat risks being told, “Friend, move down.” That’s not what you want to hear in your first year of eldership. You don’t want to be pulled aside after a meeting for responding too quickly, speaking too sharply, or offering solutions before you fully understand the problem.

If anything, you want the opposite. You want the other brothers to tell you, “Friend, move up higher. We’d like to hear what you think.”

In my previous church, a veteran elder advised new elders not to say anything in elder meetings for their first six months. That’s not a universal rule. Every elder board is different in size, experience, and culture. But the instinct is wise: As a new elder, assume you should speak less and listen more.

You may be more trained than some other elders, but they’ve been in the trenches of your church for years. They carry battle wounds you haven’t yet seen. They’ve buried members, counseled struggling marriages, and wept over prodigal children long before you sat at the table.

New elder, take the low seat—and for now, let your ears do the work.

2. Learn Context, and Assume the Best

Your elder work didn’t begin with you. And that’s a gift.

From ministry practices to staffing structures to budget lines, you’re stepping into decisions you didn’t make. Some of it may seem unclear to you. Perhaps even unwise.

But taking the low seat requires humility. Before you critique, learn the context. Before you propose a change, understand the history. Assume there are good reasons behind the decisions you’ve inherited, even if you don’t yet see them.

C. S. Lewis writes, “If you join at eleven o’clock a conversation which began at eight you will often not see the real bearing of what is said.” You’re entering a conversation that began long before you arrived. Learn what happened at eight, nine, and ten o’clock, and assume the best when you don’t yet understand.

In a recent meeting, a fellow new elder modeled this well. At several points, he asked, “Have we dealt with this in the past?” It’s a simple question, but it communicates humility. It says, “I may not know the whole story yet.”

In time, you may propose a change, and your ideas may prove helpful. But for now, take time to learn the context, and assume the best.

3. Remember Your Role

You may be tempted to put too much weight on elder meetings. You may think of them as “the room where it happens,” to borrow a phrase from Hamilton.

But remember your role. Elders are shepherds, not shareholders. A shareholder walks into the meeting thinking, Now my work begins. But a shepherd walks out of the meeting thinking, Now my work begins.

 Peter exhorts elders to “shepherd the flock of God that is among [them]” (1 Pet. 5:2). The meeting is only a small part of the work. Pray for the flock. Feed them God’s Word. Pursue the wandering. Protect them from wolves. At the end of the day, the most important work in an elder meeting doesn’t concern the budget or the building. It concerns souls.

As a new elder, you’re not there to win arguments. If you’re there to feel important, you’ve already taken the wrong seat. Take the low seat by asking, “How are Joe and Mary doing?” Even more, by praying for them and inviting them over for dinner.

Care for souls. Be a shepherd. The meeting serves the ministry, not the other way around.

Look to the Chief Shepherd

You’re a shepherd, yes. But don’t forget: You’re an under-shepherd. The church doesn’t belong to you. The honor isn’t yours to claim. Beware of self-exaltation. Jesus says, “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled” (Luke 14:11).

Taking the low seat doesn’t mean ignoring biblical conviction or becoming a “yes man.” It means choosing humility rather than grasping for honor. It means seeing your fellow elders as gifts, not rivals. It means remembering that the church belongs to Christ and acknowledging the price he paid for her.

Jesus didn’t merely teach us to take the low seat. He took it himself not at a banquet but at the cross. Though honor was rightly his, he didn’t grasp for it. If the Chief Shepherd took the lowest seat, how can his under-shepherds reach for the highest?

In Christ’s kingdom, the way up is down. It’s true at wedding feasts. And it’s true in elder meetings.

To learn more about TGC’s virtual cohort for elders and deacons (May 20–June 24, 2026), go here.

The post Advice for New Elders: Take the Low Seat appeared first on 9Marks.

Jonathan Griffiths, Gathered for Good: God’s Good Design for the Local Church. B&H Publishing, 2025. 176 pages.

“God gathers us to one another for our good and for his glory” (10). A fine claim, is it not? It’s not particularly controversial or provocative. Most Christians agree that gathering together is good—and yet, how easily can these words come out of our mouths without ever resting in our souls.

Audience 

The truths in Gathered for Good by Jonathan Griffiths are not merely intended to convict the nominal Christian or the new believer; they help even the most mature believer see God’s beauty and providence in the fellowship of his people.

Perhaps you’re a pastor who has found your heart growing dull due to creeping thoughts that there’s little you can receive from those whom you serve. Exhaustion and burnout inevitably set in as you pour into one-sided relationships with other members. If this sounds familiar, take heart! Not only are you there for the good of your local church, but your local church has been given for your good—and ultimately for God’s glory. And Griffiths has graciously reminded us of this truth.

Scope and Voice 

Prospective readers should note what this book is and what it is not. Do not expect a deep dive into ecclesiological blueprints. The tagline does contain the word “design,” but the focus is more on the “purpose and principles” that characterize the church. While other books focus on the nuts and bolts of the local church, Gathered for Good focuses on the heart of God for his gathered people, and it aims to draw the hearts of God’s people to one another in their gathering.

Griffiths weaves the gospel into every page, even as he follows a formulaic flow for each chapter. He introduces the topic with an engaging anecdote or question, tracing its root to a passage of Scripture, and then he provides three or four subpoints. Griffiths seems to have a good grasp on the ways a wide range of people perceive the local church. He speaks as comfortably and graciously to the person lingering on the edges as he does to the pastor who preaches fifty Sundays a year. And he connects with the reader not by making legalistic appeals or inducing guilt, but by appealing to their own personal good. These tender instincts undoubtedly spring from a heart seasoned by years of faithful shepherding.

Content Overview 

Griffiths is aware that intentional, meaningful, and consistent involvement with the local church can be difficult. As such, it is fitting that his first chapter provides four reasons from Scripture why believers should devote themselves to their local church. Next he discusses the uniqueness and beauty of corporate worship in engaging a person’s eyes, ears, and mouth (chapter 2) before painting a picture of biblical service that flows from one gospel-redeemed individual to another (chapter 3).

In chapter 4, Griffiths demonstrates how grace-filled giving contrasts with the world’s version of charity. He later builds on this point by using Matthew 6 to lay out a framework for holistically investing in heavenly things (chapter 6). Sandwiched between these two chapters is an invitation to take a seat at the table (chapter 5). Griffiths shows how communion offers more nourishment for the growth of the believer than the stale customs we are accustomed to.

Chapter 7 addresses prayer, and the author’s pastoral insight, wisdom, and relatability are on full display as he diagnoses common deficiencies in prayer habits and prescribes their scriptural remedies. In chapter 8, Griffiths discusses society’s understanding of “family” and then tries to capture the biblical meaning of the concept, effectively pressing it into the life of the local church. He closes the book by demonstrating the need to grow the gathering through the proclamation of the Word, faithful parenting, personal evangelism, and a corporate witness.

Thoughts and Recommendations 

The logical flow of Griffiths’s arguments and their connection to the book’s overarching argument are not always as tight as they could be. For example, the section on parenting as evangelism seems to blur the distinction between individual and corporate actions. Some chapters overlap in their content (i.e., “Giving” and “Investing”). Further, the book can seem a bit sermonic in both rhetoric and rhythm, which means some readers will want more stylistic variation.

A curious omission is the lack of a discussion on baptism as one of the key elements of the church’s gathering. While Griffiths devotes the entirety of chapter 5 to communion, its sister ordinance is not given the same emphasis. Additionally, it may have been helpful to discuss the role of church discipline within the gathered body. Granted, chapter 1 touches on the individual’s need for accountability, and chapter 8 exhorts members to move toward those who are struggling. However, neither of these exhortations is connected to the necessity and benefits of church discipline.

Despite these critiques, Jonathan Griffiths has given the church a gift. Given his ability to speak to Christians at various maturity levels, the book can be useful for a wide range of individuals, as well as for small groups, one-on-one discipleship, or studies for the entire church. I’m especially eager to place this book in the hands of those who have yet to think carefully about church membership.

The post A Book for Church Members on the Fringes . . . and the Ones Who Pursue Them appeared first on 9Marks.

For fifteen years I have held a position that doesn’t have an official title, a job description, or a definitive role. I’m a pastor’s wife. I’ve found being alongside my husband in ministry to be simultaneously a beautiful privilege and an incredible burden.

My husband began formal ministry at twenty-three years old, just months before we were married. We had big dreams for how the Lord might use our family, but none of those dreams included a long journey through the school of suffering. We never wanted a megachurch. We thought ministry would look a lot more like committing to an ordinary means of grace ministry and then trying to be faithful for a long time. The Lord had other plans.

Of course, we wept with friends in ministry who told stories of the deep sorrow caused by persistent, unrepentant sin among church members, but in our naivety, we thought the Lord would tell a different story through us.

In the School of Suffering 

Fast forward ten years, and it felt like ministry was out to get us. All those stories we’d heard from others were becoming our reality. I watched as my fun-loving, tenderhearted husband grew exhausted and took on a solemn look of defeat. I spent hours praying for the Lord to sustain us in those hard days. During every sermon he preached, I prayed for clear thinking, clear communication, and Spirit-filled encouragement, despite the sleepless nights. And I watched in awe as God continued to give my husband favor in the pulpit. But I also watched as his shoulders were visibly saddled with the overwhelming weight of ministry as he made his way back to the pew after each sermon. We were sinking together under the burden.

As God always does, he used that season in our lives to sanctify and teach us. He sustained our marriage, our children, and our souls, even when it felt like the sea of suffering was crashing in on us. But when we finally packed up our house and moved to a new area, it took years for me to see how truly broken I was.

On our last Sunday at that little church, I wept as the congregation around me sang, “When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well with my soul.’” I wept for the agony we had endured, for the sin we had seen, for the dreams that were dying before my eyes. I wept for my own loss of sweet friends I would no longer worship alongside weekly; for the beauty of what God had accomplished in the lives of these precious ones through his Word; and for the many wonderful saints who ached at our departure. I didn’t understand why we had to walk away from our dreams of a healthy church in this city; I didn’t understand why we had to say goodbye.

I had long been learning in this school of suffering, and I felt like I was ready to graduate.

Blessed While Walking with a Limp 

Because our God is so incredibly faithful, he continues to teach me through the painful process of healing. He is too good to waste even an ounce of our suffering. Like Jacob, who wrestled with the Lord, I have begged of him a blessing through the pain, and I have gleaned more than I could have asked for or imagined. But I now walk with a limp.

The beauty and pain of being a pastor’s wife is wrapped up in the fact that this role isn’t actually an office in the church. It comes with a myriad of blessings, like getting to know much of what is happening among the Lord’s people. As Erin Wheeler put it, “I treasure these things in my heart like Mary.”Erin Wheeler, “The Privilege and Power of a Praying Pastor’s Wife,” 9Marks, https://www.9marks.org/article/the-privilege-and-power-of-a-praying-pastors-wife/.

But this “job” also comes with unique, and often unseen, sorrows. The limp I walk with comes from hours on my knees. Yet, even in the pain, I have received more of God himself. When the sorrow has weighed heaviest, I have been most keenly aware of Christ’s strong arm sustaining me. When the ugly words that spewed from the saints were harshest, I saw more sweetly the beauty of my Savior’s gentle call to “come.” When kind encouragement came like water in a parched land, I felt keenly the embrace of Jesus through the welcome of his people. Now I consider my husband’s calling a joy, because my Lord has gently been applying balm to my soul through the Word and the fellowship of the saints.

Encouragements for Difficult Seasons 

If you are a pastor’s wife walking through a difficult season, hear this: God sees, knows, and cares. Your unseen limp is seen by him. As you beg him for a blessing in your own life, consider the encouragements.

Rejoice in Your Sorrow 

There is nothing like pain to make you seek a doctor. There is nothing like sorrow to send you to the Great Physician. This is why you can, with James, “count it all joy” when you fall into “trials of various kinds” (Jas. 1:2). God can reveal his kindness and faithfulness to you in ways you have yet to imagine. Sorrows can become joys as you walk with the Savior.

Remember Who You Are  

You are a wretched sinner in need of a great Savior. But there is good news! In Christ, that is exactly what you have. Jesus has borne your sin and shame and extended to you, through faith, the only real solution to your eternal problem. You have a great Savior, and in him you are chosen, beloved, adopted, redeemed, rescued, and justified. You don’t need the approval of others—because you have his! I recall Rico Tice once saying:

When we know we are children of God, we don’t fear the rejection of others—we’re loved by our Creator! We don’t fear their mockery—the Maker of the cosmos thinks well of us! We don’t fear the withholding of a favor or a promotion or anything else—we’re heading to glory in heaven.Rico Tice, “Who Are You?” The Good Book Company, https://www.thegoodbook.com/blog/interestingthoughts/2015/03/31/who-are-you/?srsltid=AfmBOoqF9oZ7o5mvomqVW1_xrIOdytI2OleEDTEkTkgT9H-dud5ndE1S. 

So when someone says that you or your husband are rotten, you can say with joy, “We are! But we have a glorious Savior, and I’d love to talk with you about him.”

Find a Friend 

Find one or two trusted sisters and share with them the whole truth. Tell them the pain you’re feeling. Tell them when it’s hard for you to love others. Tell them when you’re straying from regular time in the Word and prayer because of discouragement or busyness. Pursue honesty even when it means you just weep. If this feels impossible in your own local church right now, ask a pastor’s wife from another church to grab coffee. She’ll likely understand and could probably use the same encouragement.

Don’t Grow Weary in Doing Good 

When Paul gives us the instruction to “not grow weary of doing good” (Gal. 6:9), he doesn’t give any exceptions. Instead, he tells us to favor those who are of the “household of faith” (v. 10). But what about when the household of faith is causing your pain? There is wisdom in establishing boundaries for certain circumstances and that should be done prayerfully and with counsel from others. But Paul’s admonition remains. We are called to do good to fellow Christians whenever we have an opportunity and to never grow weary in this task.

I wish I could say I’ve done this perfectly, but I am not Jesus, and I’ve failed here more than I’ve succeeded. But if it was always easy to do good, then we wouldn’t need the reminder to not grow weary. At times, people will assume that you have poor motives, or they will gossip about some little detail you’ve forgotten. Sometimes they will simply be unmoved by your kindness. Do good anyway. God has commanded it, and he only commands what is good.

Don’t Give Up on the Church 

We naturally try to stay away from the things that hurt us. When other Christians cause us pain, we can be tempted to think, I love Jesus, I just don’t want anything to do with the church. But Jesus is not a brideless groom. His bride is the church, and he has called every believer to be a part of her and to fiercely love her because he loves her.

The church is made up of sinners this side of heaven. You will hurt others, and others will hurt you. Therefore, meditate on the beauty of Christ’s unrelenting faithfulness to a bride who often gives herself to other lovers, and see yourself in that picture. Then have that same compassion for his people. Don’t give up on the church. Jesus hasn’t, and he has been with her much longer than you have.

Draw Near to Jesus 

Jesus loves you and he will not leave you. He sees your pain, and he works through sorrow to reveal himself in the midst of the storm. He may not immediately stop the waves of sorrow from crashing in, but he will be a safe place to hide as they roll over you. Draw near to him. Meditate on his Word. Learn his heart. Seek him diligently.

The pain of a pastor’s wife is often as unseen as her work. And yet, God is faithful. He only wounds in order to bring about a greater healing. He is too good and too faithful to allow your suffering to be fruitless.

The post Walking with an Unseen Limp: God’s Enduring Faithfulness in the Private Pain of a Pastor’s Wife appeared first on 9Marks.

Editorial Note: 9Marks has published many articles about the congregation’s biblical authority over a church’s membership in the context of an elder-led polity. What follows is one pastor’s attempt to teach his church on this topic in the process of the church’s transition from an elder-rule polity to an elder-led congregationalism. This article was written to the congregation in the week leading up to their first vote to receive and release members.

* * * * *

Who doesn’t love a new set of keys—keys to a new car, a new house, or a new office? This Sunday we turn a set of keys that are new to us, but they belong to an institution that is as old as our faith.

In September we worked through a set of texts in our New Testament that outline Jesus’s plan for building his church. In Matthew 16, Peter confessed that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matt. 16:16). Jesus responded,

You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. (Matt. 16:18–19)

If it’s crucial to make sure the right people have the keys to your house, Jesus takes the question no less seriously for his own kingdom. Three sermons in September answered the question, Who Holds the Keys? From our first sermon, “The King and His Kingdom,” we learned that Jesus is heaven’s king who manifests his reign in churches that confess his name (Matt. 16:13–18). In week two, “The Keys and the Keepers,” we learned that it is every member’s job to guard Jesus’s name (Matt. 16:19; 18:15–20). In our third week, “Turning the Keys Together,” we examined three case studies to show how the apostles instructed the churches on the basis of Christ’s teaching—how they applied his blueprint for church membership (Gal. 1:6–9, 1 Cor. 5:1–13, and 2 Cor. 2:5–11).

In the weeks following, we reviewed and then agreed together on a handful of changes to our Constitution. These changes focused on how we receive and release members at Heritage Bible Church. That’s what the keys are about: church membership.

Here we are now a few days away from our Family Meeting where we’ll exercise the keys together for the first time. It’s a big moment.

With a new set of keys typically comes some instructions and reminders. So, let’s gather our gains from our three-week study and answer this question: What happens when we turn the keys this Sunday?

Here are six answers to help us pray, prepare, and celebrate together. A handful of pertinent additions from the new Constitution are quoted with bold text.

First, We Agree in the Lord by Vote to Receive and Release Members 

Very practically, this is what we are doing. By means of a congregational vote, we will make decisions together regarding our membership rolls. Under our Constitution, until about one month ago, our elders made this decision. Our elders were the final authority for decisions on members—who were added to the rolls or removed by discipline. Members were officially added when we voted at an elders’ meeting on a Wednesday night. Then members were presented to you at a subsequent Family Meeting when we reported on their testimony of faith in Christ.

So many good things going on there! But consider that, constitutionally, our elders did not even have to tell you the names of these new members. Yikes. Even so, our instincts have pulled us more and more over the years in the direction of congregational involvement and responsibility—for example, the addition of a membership class years back, and later a membership covenant and regular members’ meetings. When we share the testimonies of new members, we communicate our shared responsibility to acknowledge a true confession of Christ. And by presenting these members to you in public, we highlight your responsibility for them and their responsibility for you.

So, what changes? This Sunday, we will not report to you that you now have new brothers and sisters for whom you are responsible. Rather, we will “recommend” individuals to you for membership on the basis of their credible confession of faith in Christ. To see that we arrive together ready for business on Sunday, two weeks ago we sent you an email with the names, images, and testimonies of these dear souls. You’ve had the chance to bring to our attention any concerns. The difference might feel subtle, even simple. That’s a good thing. That’s because we’ve been going about this as “together” as we can, short of you making the final decision. Sunday, we’ll turn the keys together when we vote to receive new members.

A small change procedurally. In principle, a big deal. Let’s consider why that is so.

Second, We Declare What Heaven Has Already Decided Concerning These Souls 

What could be more powerful than “the keys of the kingdom of heaven”? Jesus picks his metaphors with purpose. Keys open and shut, lock and unlock. But did Jesus really mean to give to the church the power to decide if people go to heaven or hell?

If that doesn’t sound quite right, you’d be right. When Jesus said, “Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven” (Matt. 16:19), he used a strained grammatical construction—“shall have been bound in heaven” (emphasis mine). He could have been more simple and direct. But this is how he spoke.

Here’s what this means: we are ambassadors who discern true kingdom citizens and declare them in (by receiving a new member) or out (through church discipline if necessary). When we receive a member into our church, we declare that brother or sister to be a citizen of the kingdom of heaven. By this corporate act, we vow to treat them as a brother or sister with all of the privileges and responsibilities that membership entails. In short, we want our church rolls to match the roll of heaven.

We’re not deciding who gets in the kingdom, but our declarative responsibility is no small part of our church’s gospel witness. We want to get this right. How can each of us as members arrive at a responsible decision this Sunday when we turn the keys? Must each of us have the same firsthand, personal knowledge of these individuals? No. But that doesn’t mean our vote is a mere formality. Rather, our votes are based on evidence.

The testimony of witnesses was crucial to Israel’s legal system (Deut. 19:15). Witnesses substantiate claims. This substantiation was the basis for Timothy’s encouragement concerning the genuineness of his own faith when Paul wrote to him, “Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses” (1 Tim. 6:12). That likely refers to Timothy’s baptism. Witnesses were also essential to the process of identifying false confessors in Jesus’s instructions for church discipline: “Take one or two others along with you, that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses” (Matt. 18:16).

This Sunday, on the basis of good evidence, let’s declare on earth what is true in heaven concerning these souls.

Third, We Guard Christ’s Name and One Another—the What and the Who of the Gospel 

Our new Constitution puts a profound truth in simple terms: “The members of this church possess the responsibility to guard its gospel teaching and to guard one another as gospel confessors.” This profound truth has practical, formal, and informal entailments.

Heritage has always been ordered so that the members make formal decisions regarding our church’s confession of faith—the what of the gospel. Peter said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matt. 16:16), and Jesus affirmed that profession as the foundation for the church he would build. About ten years ago, the elders proposed a handful of changes to our confession, and the members accepted those changes by a vote. It makes sense that the congregation should bear this formal responsibility, as the apostles held congregations responsible for the gospel they preached and professed (Gal. 1:6).

Informally, we have always taken care of one another—the who of the gospel. We do this whenever we speak the truth in love, encouraging and exhorting one another in Christ. This Sunday we do so formally together for the first time, making a decision together on who will bear the name of Jesus with us in this congregation. This is what Jesus means by his imagery of “binding” and “loosing.” Think including and excluding, attaching and detaching, receiving and releasing. As an “elder-led congregational” church, this authority is now vested in our members.

How precious is the name of Jesus! That’s the measure of the preciousness of his people, for he puts his name upon them. How sacred, then, is our membership roll. There is no greater responsibility. Most of the time this will be a happy decision to receive new members.

But sometimes it will involve mourning as if for the death of a loved one (1 Cor. 5:2). This is the only response fitting when we exercise the keys of the kingdom by “loosing” a member through church discipline, excommunication being the last step in that process. In doing so, we obey Matthew 18:15–20, as did the church at Corinth in 1 Corinthians 5:1–13. Difficult as it is, “loosing” a member is an act of loving guardianship: we love the unrepentant individual by not endorsing their self-deception (1 Cor. 5:5, 11); we love one another by protecting our church from the leaven of sin (1 Cor. 5:6); and we love our neighbors by not confusing the name of Jesus with a member who confesses Christ with their lips and denies him with their life (1 Cor. 5:1).

Given the stakes involved here (Jesus’s name) and the limitation of our knowledge concerning any one member, how can we do this in a unified way with confidence? Let’s consider now the process we—that is, the congregation—have put in place and what you as church members can expect from your elders. If we’re all doing our jobs, then there should be no surprises when we assemble to vote.

Fourth, We Fulfill Our Biblical Responsibilities with the Help of Our Biblically Appointed Leaders 

If leaders don’t turn the keys on behalf of the church, where do leaders fit in this process? Let’s spend a little more time on this one.

Jesus said to Peter, “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 16:19). But Peter is dead, and there’s no basis in this text or any other for a succession of Peters (Popes!) who possess the keys of the kingdom of heaven. So, who holds the keys? I’ve assumed an answer in this article. It’s an answer that we argued for from Scripture in our second sermon, “The Keys and the Keepers.” In short, the church possesses the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Specifically, local churches.

Here’s the argument in two parts. First, in Matthew 18, Jesus uses the same imagery of binding and loosing to interpret what local churches do through a process of church discipline. In other words, Jesus says to Peter, “I give you the keys of the kingdom,” but two chapters later, he teaches the church how to exercise them. Read Jesus’s instructions and keep track of who is doing what.

If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother. But if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church. And if he refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. Again I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything they ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them. (Matt. 18:15–19)

There is a biblical order to this sensitive process. “The process moves from private to public and from individual to corporate when the person who has confessed Christ refuses to listen.” Our goal is the “spiritual restoration” of a brother or sister. But if unrepentance persists, the church agrees to treat them as a Gentile or a tax collector. Notice that it is the church that does so. Elders are not even mentioned here. Thus, the process of “loosing” is fundamentally the responsibility of the congregation. So it is with “binding,” or receiving members.

A second argument for the congregation holding the keys comes from our New Testament letters. As we explored in our third sermon, “Turning the Keys Together,” the apostles assumed congregational authority. In the same way that the apostle Paul held the whole congregation accountable in the church at Galatia for the gospel they preached and believed—the what of the gospel—he put the onus on the whole congregation at Corinth to handle the discipline of an unrepentant member—the who of the gospel (Gal. 1:6; 1 Cor. 5:1–13). Then, when the excommunicated brother returned, Paul again put the responsibility on the church to receive him back. “I beg you to reaffirm your love for him. . . . Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive” (2 Cor. 2:8–10, emphasis mine). Even as an apostle, Paul did not decide the matter for the church. Paul did not write to the elders to receive this man back. He wrote to the party with the proper biblical authority: the church at Corinth.

What, then, is the role of leaders?

We don’t see them mentioned in Jesus’s instructions for discipline in Matthew 18. It seems like a glaring omission given the prominent place that priests and prophets and kings played in the story of God’s people to this point. To be sure, the church still has leaders, elders who shepherd and oversee the flock. But elders do not occupy the same role in relationship to the church that Israel’s leaders played in her life. Elders do not mediate God’s Word or presence or rule. Elders in the New Covenant rather lead God’s people to fulfill her God-given role as a royal priesthood and holy nation. We are—all of us—a kingdom of priests, ambassadors of Christ’s kingdom on earth. Together, we bear responsibility for Jesus’s name in this place.

Here’s where leaders fit: as a local church under the authority of Jesus, we “recognize and install elders who will teach [us] the gospel of Jesus Christ and who will lead [us] to carry out [our] responsibilities under Christ.” By the structure of the Constitution we have adopted at Heritage, we appoint biblically qualified elders for the purpose of teaching the congregation to identify the true gospel and true gospel confessors. As part of this, we have outlined a process by which our elders interview prospective members and recommend them to you.

This Sunday we as elders conclude our part of the process you’ve entrusted to us when we recommend these individuals for a vote into membership. As a member joined to this body in support of your elders, it is not necessary for you to know every applicant personally. By voting to receive a new member, you agree with the elders’ recommendation on the basis of the testimony we’ve published and the process we’ve undergone with them.

Fifth, We Entrust Some Brothers and Sisters to the Care of Other Churches 

There are two ways we release members at Heritage. When necessary, we remove someone from our rolls as a matter of church discipline. After a process that involves witnesses and eventually the whole church, we agree to remove someone from our membership and treat them as an unbeliever.

We renew our agreement to this process every time we recite our Membership Covenant:

I will endeavor to watch over others in brotherly love; to humbly give and receive admonishment lest I become hardened by the deceitfulness of sin; and to consider how to encourage others to love and good works (Heb. 3:13; 10:24). If I ever continue in my sin without biblical repentance, I implore this body to seek my spiritual restoration and purity (Matt. 18:15–20) and will submit to this process for my spiritual well-being.

But what about those who are leaving our church for any number of other reasons? I quote our Membership Covenant on the matter of discipline in order to draw a contrast with every other kind of departure. This is important: we are not “loosing” them, marking them out of the kingdom. But we are releasing them from our church so that we no longer bear responsibility for one another. A brother or sister may leave because they are leaving the state. They may leave because they are marrying a believer from another church. Or for any number of providential or prudential reasons, they may decide to join another church. Sometimes these departures will be discouraging. At times, these departures are mixed with sin. But not all sin is disciplinable. So we joyfully release members to other churches when they leave to join a church that preaches the same gospel they professed with us.

Resignations should not be a surprise: “Members are encouraged to speak with an elder if ever they are considering resigning their membership.” And most of the time we should know what church that is. Our word choice indicates that this is not binding. But it should encourage confident and mutually edifying transitions to safe pasture: “Generally, a member should wait to resign their membership at Heritage until they have become a member at the new church.”

We work with resigning members to time the vote for that kind of hand-off of care. This should be normative, as it best honors what we recite together from our Membership Covenant: “I will, when I move from this place, as soon as possible, unite with a church where I can carry out the articles of this covenant and the principles of God’s Word.” To be “entrusted to the care of a specific church” is something we should want and work for where we can. At times we will not know the church but are willing to trust a departing member to seek safe pasture.

When you vote in these instances, you need not worry about knowing the details nor even agreeing that an individual should or should not have left our church. The question at hand is straightforward. With these votes “members decide that the individual leaves in good standing, agreeing with the elders’ judgment that church discipline is not necessary.” In the case of those leaving the fold here, the elders whom you have appointed have spoken with the departing member and recommend that you receive their resignation. Put positively, now we get a public opportunity to say with one voice that this brother or sister leaves in good standing with us. That should make for healthier departures and the kind of good-bye that strengthens those going and those staying. For our relationship as church members ends as it began, with the gospel.

Sixth, We Manifest Jesus’s Power and Presence among Us 

Jesus has great encouragement for us as we carry out this sober responsibility, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them” (Matt. 18:20). Jesus wants us to know where he is when we gather as a congregation (which, by the way, is what he means by “two or three”) to exercise the power of the keys. He is powerfully among us.

Yes, he is powerfully among us even if our votes are not unanimous. When Paul appealed to the church at Corinth to receive a repentant brother back, he said, “this punishment by the majority is enough” (2 Cor. 2:6, emphasis mine). We should not be surprised in the years ahead if there are painful discipline decisions over which we are not all in agreement. But even then, the Lord Jesus is powerfully among us (Matt. 18:20; 1 Cor. 5:4).

Yes, insofar as the Son is omnipresent as God, the Lord Jesus is everywhere in the universe. Insofar as Jesus sent his Spirit to live within us, Jesus himself is with each Christian wherever we go. But he is with us in a special way when we gather as a local congregation to worship his name (1 Pet. 2:4–10) and to do the work of guarding this name through church membership (Matt. 18:20; see also 1 Cor. 5:3–5).

This is our sweet and sobering responsibility.

May the Lord bless this humble embassy of his heavenly kingdom.

The post What Happens When We Turn the Keys? appeared first on 9Marks.

Abstract: Travis Rymer shares about the painful experience of pastoring while suffering with two forms of cancer. Rymer is honest about his own struggles, acknowledging that trusting God in this trial has often been difficult. He offers biblical and practical suggestions, as well as encouragement, to pastors who are seeking to persevere in faith and lead their people well amid their own suffering.

How do you get two cancers at the same time? I didn’t know it was possible. Neither my doctor nor I expected to find anything. However, the shock and worry on his face when he walked into the room indicated that he had found something—and it was serious.

On my 43rd birthday, I learned I had rectal cancer. Soon after, I would find out it was stage 3. I was scared, but the real kicker came when we met to review the scans and the doctor told me they had found another cancer—lymphoma. All I could think was, Game over.

I’ll spare you all the details of what happened next: a port in my chest, twelve rounds of chemo, surgery, and numerous humiliating situations that humbled me severely. And just for fun, I took a golf ball off my left eye at 100 mph during my first three rounds of chemo! I (literally) ended up flat on my face with blood pouring from my head. I cried out, “Are you serious right now?”

The physical circumstances were hard, and I pray I never have to go through that again. What was worse than that, though, was the fear of dying young and leaving my family behind.

How Suffering Has Affected Me 

Most people recognize that there are different kinds of suffering, but they might not realize that each kind of suffering has its own sharp edge. Suffering under injustice, for example, exposes our vulnerability, while suffering due to our own sinful mistakes often produces regret and shame.

Our theology also shapes our experience of suffering. For instance, those like me who hold to a “Big God” theology believe that God is in control of our suffering. Scripture teaches us that he uses trials to grow our faith and that he works all things according to his good pleasure (Eph. 1:11). Yet knowing that God decides what happens in our lives can itself become part of the trial.

In my experience, suffering has brought a sense of abandonment—a divine face-punch, if you will. It can leave you writhing in pain and looking for answers. God can seem distant at best and cruel at worst. Ultimately, he chose this trial at this time for you. Your walk with God becomes a personal fight to trust in him. “Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” (Job 2:10)

When the trial begins, you might think, Okay, here we go. It’s time to put my money where my mouth is. It’s an opportunity to see if your faith is real. You expect God to show up, and you anticipate growth. But as the trial goes on or the seriousness of it hits you in a fresh way, it gets harder. You start to wrestle with the deep things.

In your private prayers, you cry out, “Where are you, Lord? Why are you doing this? Why now? Are my kids really going to see me die? Will they learn that you don’t answer prayer? Don’t they need me? I need you to show up! Does this mean you’re done with me?”

Then, as time goes on, you begin to question whether God’s promises are true for this life or only for the future. Is Psalm 34:17 true? Does God really deliver the righteous from “all their troubles”? Paul was confident he would be delivered (2 Cor. 1:10). Can you have that same confidence? Sure, ultimate deliverance will come through death and all types of rescue in this life are only temporary precursors to the final rescue to come (2 Tim. 4:17–18). But what about when you need rescue here and now?

What’s worse is that when you pray, God doesn’t speak. Like Job, you cry out for answers, but nothing comes. Like so many psalms, you plead with God to come near. “God, do not be far from me; my God, hurry to help me!” (Ps. 71:12). And then you realize that there are countless passages just like this one. “Lord, do not abandon me; my God, do not be far from me” (Ps. 38:21).

It can get dark. Many times, I have wept with my face on the floor, begging God not to take my life. I have cried in bed in the darkness of night grieving my own death. While watching my son play basketball, I could only think about how I might not be here next year.

When you’re a pastor, there’s no place to hide. While you suffer, other sufferers are asking, “Where is God?” They’re watching to see how you make it through. It’s your role to help them answer these kinds of questions. The only thing is, you’re asking the same questions yourself! What they need is what you need.

So how are you supposed to help others when you need that same help?
And how do you fight while you feel beaten down?

Suggestions for Leading in the Midst of Suffering 

Based on my own experience, I’ll offer some suggestions for how you can lead your people as a fellow sufferer.

Let the Trial Work on Your Soul and Allow Others to See It  

The truth is, there’s no other way to suffer well and help others at the same time. Only Jesus has the words of life. And unless a grain of wheat falls and dies, it cannot bear fruit (John 12:24). At least part of the purpose of this trial is to refine your faith through fire (1 Pet. 1:7), and that too is part of God’s ministry to others through you (2 Cor. 1:6). As hard as it might be, when you let others into your trial to see you wrestling with these things, their faith benefits as well.

Do the Next Thing in Front of You 

I don’t know who said it, but it’s good advice: Do the next thing in front of you. Today has enough troubles of its own (Matt. 6:34). You don’t know if the Lord will let you survive this, but today you have an opportunity to serve. Take it.

Pastor by Faith 

Pastoring while suffering forces you to pastor by faith. Sure, this should always be our prerogative. Unfortunately, suffering forces the issue when we are otherwise all too prone to rely on ourselves. The hardest part is helping others fight for faith during their own trials by pointing them to promises that you are praying for yourself—promises that seem unanswered thus far. In the back of your mind, you may be reserving judgment on whether or not the promise is true for you, which can make you feel like a hypocrite. But isn’t this how we fight for faith? We listen to the Scriptures speak that which our eyes cannot see.

This too is a gift because being a pastor forces you to face questions you might otherwise avoid or respond to superficially. When you have to get up and preach next week, you don’t have the luxury of spiritual lethargy. Admittedly, it can feel like a burden. Am I faking it? Is there anything real in me? I don’t feel like doing this. Yet this is another grace. As you exhort the person in your office to trust in God and wait on his timing, you are exhorting yourself. You are living by faith while pastoring by faith. Faith is working overtime in you and through you.

Be Transparent about Your Struggles and Limitations 

I have tried to be honest with people during this trial, and most people have been surprised by my struggles. That surprises me. How can I not struggle? This is an aspect of genuine faith, and it’s all over the Bible. But some people don’t seem to understand this.

Obviously, if you are struggling to put one foot in front of the other, you may need to take a step back from at least some of your pastoral responsibilities. Such decisions should be made with the counsel and prayer of your fellow elders, your wife, and those who know you well. But the fact that you are fighting to trust God’s promises is important. People need to see that you’re wrestling. So be as transparent as you can in appropriate ways. This will help you avoid feeling like a hypocrite.

I have written Psalm 25:16–18 and Isaiah 30:20–21 on my wall. I also grabbed Psalm 71 along the way, in addition to 2 Corinthians 1:8–11. Like a young child picking up shells at the beach, I’ve collected an armful of such verses. They are written there as open prayers. More than once, I’ve pointed to these and said to someone, “The Lord hasn’t yet answered these passages for me, but they are promises. So I’m calling on God to answer them. Let’s pray them together for us both.”

Become Acquainted with Parts of the Bible that Address the Reality of Suffering 

There are passages I “knew” but had no experiential knowledge of. I have become aware of an entire category of passages that express what I’ve called “the divine face-punch.” While these passages might seem discouraging at first glance, they will help you in the long run. More than that, they’re really helpful for your people. Think about it. How many places in Scripture are asking “Why?” or “How long?” How many are pleading with God to arise and do something? How many lament God’s silence? I had heard of these passages, but now I truly know them!

Develop a Theology of Rescue  

I don’t have space to elaborate fully here, but one thing God has been teaching me is that trials are largely about learning to believe in the resurrection. Paul said that he and his co-workers felt that they had received the sentence of death, but this sense of despair had a particular purpose: “to make us rely not on ourselves, but on God who raises the dead” (2 Cor. 1:9).

Brother pastor, there’s rich nourishment in the connection between the promises of rescue and the realities of affliction. As you work out how these two things relate, you will be strengthened and your people will be helped. This is an important way to watch your life and doctrine during a season of suffering.

Encouragement in the Midst of My Suffering 

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but it has been encouraging to hear from people about how my suffering has helped them. Perhaps these examples can encourage you too.

Toward the end of last year, a friend wrote, “I want you to know you’re one of the main reasons my faith is strong.” A sister afflicted by many troubles told me after one sermon, with tears, “I believe you now. I believe you.” Another brother was comforted to hear that I had felt abandoned at times because that’s how he felt too. Someone else told me that when he first heard about my cancer, he became angry at God. However, it forced him to rethink his understanding of God’s sovereignty. I received an unexpected note after counseling a young couple about their second miscarriage. They shared about how they had experienced firsthand how someone can offer comfort with the comfort that they had received from God.

My trial isn’t over yet, but I am doing better. I will never be the same. I am still finding my way forward and praying the verses on my wall. When I experience noticeable “chemo brain,” neuropic aches and pains, hurting feet, or when I deal with the side effects of surgery, I am reminded of my frailty. As I approach the next scan, I fear I’m about to be thrown right back into the fire.

I walk with this daily, but so do many of my people. In all of it, God is teaching us not to rely on ourselves but on him who raises the dead.

The post Pastoring with Two Cancers: Leading Your People While Fighting for Faith appeared first on 9Marks.

R.B. Kuiper, The Glorious Body of Christ. Banner of Truth, 1967. 416 pages.

I’d memorized the first part of the verse more than twenty years ago, as a young Christian, but it was today that I connected it to the verse that immediately follows it.

The verse I am referring to is Paul’s well-known benediction in the middle of his letter to the Ephesian church: “Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us” (Eph. 3:20).

No doubt you’re familiar with this promise. It reminds us that our God is the God of more—far more. There are no limitations on his ability or power to do good in us and for us as his people. We are weak, but he is strong.

But to what end is this promise given? The following verse clues us in: “to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

So, yes, God is able to do far more than all that we ask or think. And, yes, he is more than willing to exercise his power on our behalf.

But for what reason? So that his glory might be seen in his church.

The church is a place where God intends for his glory to be made visible, and though in itself the church is weak, God has everything at his disposal to make his name great among us. And this is something he’s committed to do, beyond all that we can ask or imagine.

If God is so committed to seeing his glory displayed in the church, we ought to be as well. That’s why The Glorious Body of Christ by R.B. Kuiper deserves a careful reading by a wide audience. Kuiper seeks to share “the teaching of Holy Scripture concerning the church of Christ . . . specifically its glory.” He writes in the introduction that his “chief concern is to give the reader some glimpses of the marvelous glory of the body of Christ.” This he does in 53 concise chapters. These chapters were originally published as monthly articles in the Presbyterian Standard between 1948 and 1952.

Kuiper was a minister in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church, though his aim in this book is broader than Presbyterianism. He doesn’t want to appeal only to those who share his particular ecclesiastical convictions. Rather, he writes as one who “did not have in mind any particular denomination but rather the church described in the Apostles’ Creed as ‘catholic.’” He largely accomplishes that goal, though his presbyterian polity does show up from time to time. However, even those who remain unpersuaded by his views on matters of church government will benefit from what Kuiper says concerning the identity, holiness, leadership, preaching, and mission of the church.

For pastors, this book could work well as a one-chapter-a-week read over the course of a year, perhaps on a Saturday night before preaching. Church members might also find it useful to read one of these chapters each week prior to gathering with their local church. The book can help any Christian grow their love for and dedication to the body of Christ.

“Glorious things of you are spoken, O city of God” (Ps. 87:3). This book will help you rediscover those “glorious things,” or perhaps hear them for the first time.

The post Where God’s Glory Is Displayed appeared first on 9Marks.

I hadn’t seen him in years. After small talk, he asked the question many pastors dread: “So, how big is your church?” If you pastor a small church, you know the feelings that come: insecurity, defensiveness, the temptation to exaggerate, and a desire to highlight the strengths of your church.

The average church has sixty people in attendance. But many pastors still feel like failures. They can live in a low-grade state of discontent, watching other churches double or triple in size while theirs feels stuck. They wonder why God hasn’t answered their prayers. Isn’t it a good thing we’re asking God for? Didn’t Jesus promise to build his church, or did he just mean theirs?

Along with spiritual confusion comes practical challenges: thin volunteer teams, tight budgets, limited staff. Small church pastors watch people they love leave for larger churches with more programs and services, creating a revolving door.

I’ve pastored at a megachurch with everything pastors dream of, and now for over a decade I’ve pastored a church of under two hundred people. I’m not against growth. I have longed for it. Prayed for it. Worked for it. But my current church has never seen the overnight growth that some churches experience.

I have hated this. I’ve been discouraged. Disappointed. Confused. And, over time, I have come to thank God for this mercy.

Though it’s good and reasonable to desire growth, I have learned to rejoice in the fact that God has chosen not to grow my church at the speed I once envisioned.

Focused Shepherding 

Proverbs says, “Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox” (Prov. 14:4). Growth brings abundance, but also a messier barn. I learned that lesson in my first job working on a ranch. More horses meant more mouths to feed, more stalls to muck, more wheelbarrows of manure to haul. At times, I wished for only one stall to clean.

Church growth can have a similar effect. Right now, you may have one counseling session, one critical email, one couple walking through infertility. Now multiply that based on how much you want your church to grow. More people can mean more problems, more needs to meet, and more strain.

That doesn’t mean we should fear growth. After all, the abundance of crops is a good thing! We want to see more people discipled. We shouldn’t intentionally try to keep things small so that we have fewer problems. Yet it’s easy to fantasize and miss the realistic picture of growth. The lack of growth may be God’s mercy to help you focus on the flock he has given you right now. Diligently shepherd the sheep God has given you today instead of dreaming about the sheep you wish you had.

Engaged Laborers 

I used to pray, “God, bring people to our church.” Then I realized this kind of prayer isn’t really in the Bible. Jesus said the harvest is “plenty”; the problem is that there are few people willing to enter the harvest, which is why we should “pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest” (Matt. 9:37–38). We are not called to pray that God would send people to our church. We are called to pray that God would send us to them.

Some growing churches can easily become complacent in evangelism. This is particularly the case when much of their growth comes through Google search rankings, visibility, or “transfer growth.”

But I’ve talked to many dying churches that once had full auditoriums, schools for growing young families, and national radio ministries. Some confess that over time they became inward-focused, reliant on past success, and content to preserve their comfort.

A season of stagnation offers an opportunity for a church to examine itself. It forces us to ask: Are we truly engaged with our neighbors, coworkers, and city? Are we showing hospitality, building friendships, and proclaiming the gospel? Do we share God’s heart for our community? Perhaps God is choosing not to give growth until there is a radical reorientation of our hearts to be like Jesus who came to seek and save the lost (Luke 19:10).

Deeper Dependence 

When growth stalls, pastors often scramble for solutions: courses, Facebook groups, cohorts, books, consultants, or new and innovative methods. I’m not saying all these things are worthless, but what if God wants to bring us to the end of what our best resources can do? What if he is giving you a fishes-and-loaves season where you bring the limited people, dollars, staff, and resources to him and say, “God, do what only you can do. Glorify yourself.”

He leads us to depend on him not only for his power but also as our true source of joy. Like all trials, God’s purpose is to shape our character, draw us close to him, and build in us greater endurance. It forces us to ask crucial questions: Is my greatest joy in God or in a popular church? Is my righteousness in a number, or is it in Christ? Am I preaching to be faithful to God and love people or to feel better about myself? Am I living faithfully to fulfill the ministry he has given me?

This is an opportunity not to grieve what you lack, but to remember what you already have in Christ.

Numbers rise and fall, whether by thousands or by dozens, but our calling is the same. We worship God, preach the gospel, form community, train and equip members to do the work of ministry, and carry out Christ’s mission.

Your church enjoys the same purpose in Christ’s mission as every other Christian church in the world. And Jesus is just as much the head of your church as he is of the one with the new building. He cares for your church and has purchased it with his blood. He is not withholding any good thing from you.

Pastor, don’t miss the good God has given you by focusing on what he hasn’t yet given. Slow growth is not God’s neglect. It is his goodness.

The post Why It Might Be Good That Your Church Isn’t Growing appeared first on 9Marks.

My journey to pastoral ministry wasn’t a straight line.

For some, the journey is relatively straightforward—discern a call, go to seminary, work an internship, become a staff pastor, etc.—but mine was a series of fits and starts. The initial idea came from a mentor who asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I sheepishly said, “Maybe be a teacher,” and he replied, “I think you want to be a pastor.” He was right. Yet, I had no idea what pastoral ministry might look like for me.

In seminary, I came across many brothers whose calling seemed sure. When talking about the future, it was evident that their burden was to be in the pulpit every Sunday. For me? I enjoyed preaching occasionally, but the thought of a weekly pulpit ministry was frankly a little overwhelming.

Later, after having some success in my classes, I began contemplating the idea of doing a PhD, with the hopes of teaching in a classroom environment or—even better—starting a training program in a local church. However, that plan was derailed before I could even begin as my wife and I were expecting our first child. The PhD would have to wait—I needed a job!

In God’s providence, I began a career in Christian publishing. Things finally made sense. I loved books, reading, and telling others about books. Why not do it for a career? It was a great fit for my personality too, as I love to meet new people and have conversations with strangers—something I was doing a lot of.

But what about my aspiration to pastor? Was that something I’d have to give up on? No, far from it! In fact, in God’s kindness, the fits and starts of my journey made my pastoral aspirations even more clear. My aspiration was to be a lay elder.

All Churches Need Good Lay Elders 

If we’re going to have healthy churches, we need faithful lay elders eager to shepherd the flock and build up the body. The apostle Paul understood this well when he told Timothy to “entrust” what he had been taught “to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also” (2 Tim. 2:2). All churches need faithful men to help lead. And while we should labor to pay pastors for their work, especially those who preach and teach (1 Tim. 5:17), many churches may only be able to pay a handful of such men. This is especially true in newly planted churches, churches undergoing revitalization, or churches in contexts where financial or demographic constraints limit staff size.

I was reminded of how vital the need for lay pastors is while visiting a downtown church in a large metropolis. The church was undergoing revitalization and couldn’t support a large staff. In fact, the lead pastor shared with me how difficult it is to labor in this bustling city because of how transient it is. Like most cities in America, it’s hard for folks to stay.

The morning I visited, I attended a Bible study before the service led by a faithful lay elder who was teaching through the book of Esther. The lead pastor remarked what a blessing it was to have faithful lay elders like this man because it eased the burdens of his ministry.

Lay elders are like Aaron and Hur holding up Moses’s arms in battle against the Amalekites (Ex. 17:10–13). They help bear the burden of ministry when the load seems overwhelming.

Lay Eldering Is Eldering 

Based on my many conversations with aspiring brothers all over the country, I know that many wrongly think that “being a pastor” necessarily means receiving a paycheck from a local church. Some of these men desire to be lead pastors while others desire to be “staff guys” at a church. While I thank God for men who desire to serve the church full-time, I also feel the urge to remind them that pastoring doesn’t require a paycheck.

The distinction between “lay elder” and “staff elder”Presbyterian churches distinguishing the office of “teaching elder” from “ruling elder.” I prefer the lay and staff distinction because of the specific responsibilities given to all elders. For the distinction within a Presbyterian context, see PCA BCO 8:5, 8:8. is helpful as we pursue the biblical principle of paying pastors (from 1 Tim. 5:17). Nonetheless, Scripture recognizes only two church offices: elders (also called pastors or overseers) and deacons. Fundamentally, there isn’t a tiered system of greater elders and lesser elders—just elders!I do not deny Paul’s recognized parity in any given eldership in 1 Tim. 5:17. Some elders are worthy of more honor based on their responsibilities. My point here is simply to say that all elders start from the same baseline. No elder is more an elder than another even if he receives more “honor” (i.e., pay) for his labors in preaching and teaching. The qualifications and expectations for lay elders are the same as those for all elders (see 1 Tim. 3:1–7, Titus 1:5–9, and 1 Pet. 5).

Practically, this means that as an elder in my local church, I share the same responsibilities as my fellow elders: exercising oversight, teaching God’s Word, providing pastoral counsel, praying for the sick, mediating disagreements, making hospital visits, discipling younger Christians, and shepherding our members. These duties belong to all the elders, regardless of whether we receive a paycheck. And while we must recognize that there are differing capacities for different men, the overall thrust is the same: elders are elders, whether they be lay or staff.

Consider a Vocation to Help You Become a Lay Elder 

In light of the need for faithful elders, I often challenge young men with this question: What might it look like to structure your life and vocation around serving as a faithful lay elder in your church?

All of us must consider a variety of factors when choosing a vocation. The obvious ones are things like compensation, opportunities for growth, the job market, skills and interests, work-life balance, personal fulfillment, and more. But what would it look like for aspiring lay elders to choose their career based on their desire to serve in their local church and, more specifically, to serve as an elder?

This might mean choosing a career where the compensation is lower but the schedule provides more flexibility to shepherd the flock. It might mean choosing a job with less travel. Or, as in my case, it might mean picking a career that “stacks” well with pastoral ambitions. Working at a Christian publisher and serving as a local church pastor actually work together in great harmony!

Consider Getting Training to Be a Lay Elder 

In some cases, aspiring (or current) lay elders might consider pursuing theological training with the goal of serving more faithfully. Not every man needs to attend seminary, and in some cases it may even be unwise. Men who have a full-time job, a family, and church responsibilities have multiple factors to consider. Yet, because theological training is now available in diverse forms—seminary, church-based programs, internships, distance learning—aspiring lay elders can more easily pursue the education that best fits their situation.

Lay Eldering Is Not a Failure 

Sadly, I often hear young men say they’ve “failed” to use their seminary degree if they aren’t serving on a church staff in some capacity. What was the point of going to school, paying for classes, and graduating if I’m not going to “use” it?

My counsel is, rather than see a vocational “zag” as a failure, see it as God’s providence refining your aspirations. Might such a “zag” mean not being on a church staff? Possibly. Does it mean never getting to pastor? Not by a long shot.

Brothers, if you love the church, love God’s Word, and aspire to the pastoral office, don’t limit that calling to a paycheck. Instead, consider structuring your life around serving Christ’s church as a faithful lay elder. The church needs elders, lay and staff alike. Lay elders aren’t backup options—they are faithful shepherds of the church that Christ laid down his life for.

The post Brothers, Aspire to Be Lay Elders appeared first on 9Marks.

Sabrina burst into tears as she sat on our couch. This was the first time my wife, Amanda, and I had Mante and Sabrina over for dinner. They had recently moved to Bellingham—a few blocks from our church. “What is the name of the church you were at in San Diego?” I asked moments before. “Are you going to call my pastor?” she asked fearfully, her voice choked with sobs.

As it turned out, Sabrina had been excommunicated by her previous church. While this was only the beginning of our journey with Mante and Sabrina, God had been orchestrating this beautiful story for years. This is a real-life example of God accomplishing his will through the ordinary means of grace in local churches thousands of miles apart. Several churches in different states unknowingly became “fellow workers” in caring for Sabrina and Mante (1 Cor. 3:9).

Putting the Pieces Together 

The first time they attended Legacy Church in the summer of 2023, they both had a thick ESV MacArthur Study Bible. They were living together, and we suspected they weren’t married—neither wore rings. The next Sunday, they didn’t return. Instead, they explored a few other churches in the area. To our surprise, they returned five months later. That’s when we invited them over to dinner. After dinner, we sat in the living room and asked them questions to try to learn more about them. They’d been dating for two years and had met in San Diego before moving across the country to Pennsylvania. While in Pennsylvania, they bought a bus and started converting it into a camper. They then drove cross-country to where we live in Bellingham, Washington.

Bewildered by these contradictory pieces of information, I asked why they came back to Legacy and what they were looking for in a church. Mante, a newly professing Christian, explained that he liked the other churches they visited because of their worship, but Sabrina, who seemed to have a healthy church background, convinced him that preaching the Bible was more important than the production quality of the music. They may not have known the right terminology, but they returned to Legacy because of expositional preaching and a culture of evangelism and hospitality.

We grappled with their incongruent choices, sensing God’s hand was at work. They knew what good preaching was, and they knew we preached the Bible. And both of them had theologically conservative Study Bibles. Yet they were living together while unmarried. How did Sabrina know what to look for in a church? Who taught her about expositional preaching? More to the point, wouldn’t they have known that we would confront them in their adultery? And why would they return to Legacy instead of attending one of the other churches that didn’t practice meaningful membership? They could have remained unknown with their sin unconfronted.

It was around this time that I asked the question about Sabrina’s previous church. The question clearly struck a nerve. After Amanda comforted her, Sabrina shared that she had attended San Diego Reformed Church (SDRC). The pastor had told her that she couldn’t be a member there any longer, nor could she share in the fellowship of the Lord’s Table with her beloved SDRC friends. In other words, she was excommunicated—the final stage of church discipline that Jesus taught about in Matthew 18:15–20. At this point in our relationship, we didn’t know why she was excommunicated, nor did we know if SDRC was a faithful church. What we did know is that the formal act of discipline stung Sabrina. After months of patient shepherding, she told us the story.

Back in April of 2021, Sabrina had become a member of SDRC, where she sat under the expositional preaching of Pastor Zack Gilman for more than a year. She was also being discipled by various women at the church and seemed to be growing in her faith. But Sabrina was in the San Diego restaurant industry, which was notorious for its sensual and immoral lifestyle. It was there that she met Mante, a scientifically minded atheist at the time, and Sabrina became the wandering sheep of Matthew 18:10–14. She seemed to have tasted the goodness of the Word of God, yet she walked away.

She formed a romantic and adulterous relationship with Mante, and several close friends confronted her. By that fall, she had confessed the relationship to her best friend, Janet, yet Sabrina refused to end the relationship. On January 11, 2022, Janet, along with Pastor Zack and another friend, met with Sabrina again to call her to repentance. After months with no signs of repentance, they were forced to “tell it to the church” (Matt. 18:17). In July, Pastor Zack sent a painful email to the members of SDRC in which he explained the next stage of discipline according to Matthew 18 and the responsibility of the members at their next members meeting.

At that meeting on July 17, Pastor Zack exhorted the church to commit to praying for Sabrina, and he urged them to call her to repentance. Sabrina recalls being bombarded with love. The members pursued her. They pleaded with her. They warned her. She said, “It felt terrible, like I was being stalked. I didn’t want to hear any of it.” The fleshly desires of the world pulled her away and hardened her heart to the calls of repentance. That August, the members of SDRC formally removed Sabrina from their membership as an act of church discipline.

The apostle Paul, addressing intolerable sexual immorality, told the church in Corinth to deliver a man “to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord” (1 Cor. 5:5). He then went on to tell them “not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother [or sister] if he is guilty of sexual immorality” (v. 11). The members of SDRC were to “cleanse out the old leaven” so that they might be a “new lump” (v. 7). Sabrina was the leaven, and the church was purified by excommunicating her. This act of discipline also communicated the judgment of God that she would receive if she did not repent.

If, on the other hand, the church hadn’t taken this step, Sabrina might have continued believing she was right with God, the church would have been infected with immoral behavior, and outsiders who knew that Sabrina was living with her boyfriend would be confused about what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

God’s Sovereign Grace in Pennsylvania 

It was after being removed from SDRC that Sabrina moved to Pennsylvania. She had severed relational ties to the church and become hardened to the gospel. Mante, however, had started having spiritual conversations with Sabrina’s dad, Izzy, a long-time, faithful Christian. Mante had a scientific background and studied wildlife biology, and he was absolutely confident in the theory of evolution and the idea of a world without God. Yet these conversations challenged him.

“I was so sure in what I believed,” he said, “but Izzy was so sure in what he believed too.” Mante was perplexed at how this could be. “If he believed it so much, then maybe I should look into it,” he said. Izzy was able to apply biblical truth to real life in a way that struck a chord with Mante. He was becoming curious about the claims of Jesus Christ. The tables were turning.

While Sabrina was running from God toward Mante, God was drawing Mante to himself. Eventually, by God’s grace, Mante put his faith in Christ. And, by that same grace, Sabrina would later repent of the sin that she had been confronted with long ago by her church in San Diego.

Shortly after this, Mante and Sabrina got an itch for adventure and googled “most adventurous place to live in the United States.” That’s why they had moved to Bellingham, where they eventually found our church.

A month after bursting into tears on my couch, on Sunday, December 31, 2023, it became obvious that the Lord was at work in this couple as they approached me after the service. Mante began, fumbling as he searched for the right words, “We know that we are not honoring the Lord in our relationship. Can you help us?” It wasn’t supposed to be this easy. Where was the difficult confrontation about their sin? Where was the loving plea from other church members to repent and believe the gospel afresh? Unbeknownst to us, that work had already been done. The Lord had been at work through the faithful labor of the saints of San Diego Reformed Church.

The Discipleship Journey in Bellingham 

I met with Mante and Sabrina later that week and walked them through the gospel and Ephesians 1–2. They wanted to start living a life that honored the Lord, but they didn’t know how. They didn’t want to simply “check the box” on marriage by going to the courthouse to make it “legal”—they wanted to repent!

But there was a lot to untangle. They lived together in a city where they had no family or friends, and they ran an Airbnb out of their home. This is where the members of Legacy Church stepped up. One member was in Brazil on a long-term business trip, and without meeting the couple, he gave Mante the keys to his house and let him live there until he returned. Another member, a mother of four, started discipling Sabrina through the letters of 1, 2, and 3 John. Together, Amanda and I discipled them on what it looked like to live a gospel-centered life.

Before long, Mante joined the Army Reserves. Attending basic training for eight months was part of their plan to live faithfully. This time of separation was also a catalyst that propelled Sabrina to build relationships with other women in the church. Additionally, church members provided a place for her to live when Mante returned from basic training. Legacy Church was living out Christ’s love for Sabrina and Mante (Acts 2:42–47).

Reconciliation in San Diego 

On May 12, 2024, Brian MacSwan, our lead pastor, preached a sermon on church discipline. This was an opportunity to follow up with Sabrina about how she had been disciplined by her previous church. She admitted that SDRC had done the right thing and that they had carried out the process faithfully.

Providentially, on May 19, 2024, right after hearing the sermon on church discipline, Sabrina had a trip to San Diego planned. We encouraged her to attend SDRC and reconcile with them, and she did. That Sunday she met with Zack and his wife, Taylor, for dinner. They wept tears of joy as they celebrated her repentance. On Sunday, June 16, 2024, Pastor Zack again wept as he reported her repentance to the church. He made it clear that Sabrina was in right fellowship with Christ and his body. The members of SDRC rejoiced alongside the host of heaven at this wandering sheep who had been found (Luke 15:3–7).

The Joy of Repentance 

Earlier this year, Sabrina went through Legacy Church’s membership class while Mante was away at basic training. She was baptized into our membership on January 5, 2025, having realized her prior baptism as a child preceded her actual conversion.The members of Legacy Church voted to affirm Sabrina into membership on December 1st, 2024, contingent upon her being baptized as a believer. On May 31, Mante and Sabrina were married. Then, on June 29, Mante was also baptized and welcomed into membership at Legacy Church.

This is a story of God’s extravagant grace and mercy displayed through the local church. However, we do not exercise church discipline because of stories like these; things don’t always turn out this way. Many congregations weep bitterly as those whom they have excommunicated never show signs of repentance. Rather, we exercise church discipline because the Bible commands it for the purity and witness of the church and for the eternal good of those who are excommunicated.

In the case of Sabrina, we rejoice! The joint work of two churches thousands of miles apart embodies Paul’s words to the church in Corinth. One church “planted,” another “watered,” but “God gave the growth” (1 Cor. 3:6).

The post A Tale of Three Cities: A Testimony of Grace Through Church Discipline appeared first on 9Marks.

Being a pastor is a tremendous privilege, but it’s also hard. It always has been. Pastoring requires a strange mixture of skill sets and a high standard of holiness. And the internet age has only added new challenges, as pastors are expected to weigh in on any and every topic. Add to all that the burden of the “weight of souls”This phrase is taken from Charles Spurgeon, Encouragement for the Depressed. that lies on pastors, and it’s easy to see why pastoring presents a unique temptation—the temptation to leave.

In light of these challenges and heavy responsibilities, what compels a pastor to stay and remain faithful to his flock? To answer that, we need to hear the words of the Good Shepherd.

The Good Pastor 

In Jesus’s famous teaching on “The Good Shepherd,” he identifies a difference between good pastors and bad pastors. (The Greek word for “shepherd” can also be translated as “pastor.”)

I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. (John 10:11–12)

Jesus is the Good Pastor, the Pastor that you and I cannot be. You and I are limited, sinful, and expendable, while Jesus is a bottomless fountain, perfect and irreplaceable. Yet Jesus’s model of shepherding serves as a good picture of what we should be like as pastors.

We can distinguish between good pastors and pseudo-pastors by what they do when danger and difficulty arise. The pseudo-pastor uploads his resume to job boards and hits the road. The good pastor stays, exhibiting courage, grit, and love. He lays down his life to fight off a wolf, even when the wolf arises from within the flock (Acts 20:29–30).

But why would he do that? Once again, contrast him with a shepherd who: “flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep” (John 10:13). The good pastor stays because he cares for those whom he leads. This doesn’t mean that there are never good reasons for a pastor to leave his flock. It may even be a loving thing to step aside and let another shepherd provide the care and leadership a church needs during a particular season. But the ordinary posture of a pastor toward his church should not be to run just because things get difficult. We preach, pray, love, and stay.

In short, being a good pastor means you must care about your flock, but caring will cost you.

The Cost of Caring 

While I am still relatively young when it comes to pastoral ministry, I have done this long enough to see that many men who are put into the pressures and disappointments of ministry adopt the attitude of the hired hand—not because they are mercenary or cruel, but as a survival tactic. They start out with warmth and enthusiasm, but in time a calloused cynicism settles in. And, in a way, it makes sense. If you open up your heart to a congregation only to have them take a shot at you, maybe for something trivial and unfair, it can be easier emotionally to simply back away, to slide a piece of armor between you and them, and to stop caring so much. If you don’t care about me, fine, I won’t care about you.

But that isn’t what a good shepherd, or pastor, does. Think, for example, about the apostle Paul and the Corinthian church. He set aside his right to be paid by them and instead worked the double-shift of bi-vocational ministry so as not to put any hindrances on this fledgling church. Yet some in the church used that very act of service as a point of attack in an attempt to delegitimize Paul’s entire ministry and accuse him of not being a true apostle (2 Cor. 11:7–11). And though Paul was clearly hurt, notice the one thing he does not do. Close his heart to them. No, he says, “We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open” (2 Cor. 6:13).

The Power of Caring 

I still have much to learn as a pastor, but one thing that has surprised me is how powerful it is to genuinely care about people. People are incredibly lonely, suspicious, and often deprived of encouragement. To be clear, caring about your members will not solve all their problems. Showing up at the hospital in the middle of the night to be with a crying wife will not bring her husband back to life. But it will show that you care.

While meeting with a man recently, he mentioned how years ago when his family was first visiting our church, I spoke a word of encouragement, telling the church how proud I was of them. He said that alone compelled him to stay at our church, because he had never heard a pastor praise his congregation for something before.

You may be just an “okay” preacher. You may not be a visionary leader; you may not know how the social-media game works; and you may not know the next program your church needs to reach the next generation. But if you care about the sheep, that will go a long way. It was said of John Newton that his “preaching was often not well prepared, nor careful or ‘graceful’ in delivery.” However, he had “so much affection for his people and so much zeal for their interests, that the defect of his manner was little consideration with his constant hearers.”Taken from John Piper, “John Newton: The Tough Roots of His Habitual Tenderness,” Desiring God, https://www.desiringgod.org/messages/john-newton-the-tough-roots-of-his-habitual-tenderness. 

Pastor, you will continue to make mistakes and fall short, and you’ll even be a bonehead from time to time (I certainly have). But when your words come out sideways or you drop the ball, hopefully your members will be able to say, “We know he cares about us.” And if they don’t, if they turn around and try to take a bite out of you, you have two choices: take your ball and go home or choose to be a good pastor who stays. In those moments, you must rely on the Great Shepherd, who is watching over you and all his other wounded sheep.

But remember, your jet fuel in ministry isn’t that everyone appreciates you and sees all the hard work you are doing. It is that Jesus cares about you. He sees not only your hard work but also all of your sin. And, wonder of wonders, he still cares about you. Even though this care cost him dearly.

So, pastor, while it’s right for you to care about your congregation, you and I should always care more about Jesus. I am reminded of Ray Ortlund Sr.’s last words to his son, Ray Ortlund Jr.: “Tell Bud, ministry isn’t everything. Jesus is.”

The post Caring Enough to Stay: What Pastors Can Learn from the Good Shepherd appeared first on 9Marks.

“You just threw your life away.”

I heard these words many times during the two years I awaited trial in a Fort Worth jail. The words missed the point. The life I threw away was not my own.

Thirty years ago, as a high school senior with two military academy appointments, I bludgeoned and shot a harmless sixteen-year-old friend. I am confused to this day as to what motivated me to do it. I still shake my head in disbelief. Somehow, I thought her death would placate another girl, my fiancée and partner in crime.

Nine months later I was arrested and charged with murder. Inexplicably, I pled not guilty. Despite my refusal to take responsibility, the victim’s parents graciously refused to request the death penalty. I was convicted and sentenced to a minimum of forty years in prison. Four years later I ended my appeals and admitted my guilt. I was a twenty-four-year-old atheist with a life sentence and a striking resemblance to the unbelievers described in Romans 1:30–31: “slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless.”

God’s grace and my family’s prayers protected me from further self-destruction through the following decade. While I earned a B.S. in sociology and worked in a prison factory as a draftsman, I selfishly pursued relationships with the curious women who wrote to me.

Drawn by the Spirit 

In 2009 I met Charlotte, a witty, pretty, and vulnerable professing Christian who was undeterred by my atheism. I encouraged her advances, and within months we were in love and talking about marriage. My sister was the lone voice of opposition to a union that served my interests with little benefit to Charlotte. Although I ignored wise counsel and married her, the time before and after our 2010 wedding was a season of spiritual awakening for me.

Three clues emerged that the Holy Spirit was drawing me to place my faith in Jesus Christ. First, my praying mother persuaded me to start reading the Bible, if only out of love for Charlotte. I did. Unlike my childhood exposure to God’s Word, which was mandatory and led me to try to manipulate God to my advantage, this time I was sincerely and hopefully seeking.

My second clue came when I read a pamphlet that defended the historicity of the Gospels. Previously the claim that Jesus lived, died, and rose again fell on a hard heart. Now I was awakened to the reality and reliability of God’s Word.

My third clue came when I began to be more sensitive to Charlotte’s needs than my own. During the weeks following our marriage, I realized how little I had to offer her. With my worldview of humanism and materialism, I was cynical and selfish. I had left behind a series of broken lives and relationships, and I had little hope that the future would be different. Something had to change. It had to be me.

Charlotte and I married in August, and in September I went to the prison chapel where I heard the gospel proclaimed. I went freely, silently praying for help to overcome unbelief, aware of the futility of my atheism, and hopeful that in this surrender the God who made both me and my new wife would mercifully remake me into a loving husband and son. In that moment, I was not aware of the scope of my depravity, nor did I have every doubt answered, nor did my heart grow warm inside. I simply knew I needed the mercy of Christ’s cross.

I prayed, “God, I have denied you for ten years. If it takes ten years to get my answers, I’ll still follow Jesus.” I called Charlotte and said, “I’m ready to build our marriage on the Word of God.”

Baptized and Building Healthy Churches 

The next month I was baptized by the prison chaplain and began a year of discipleship under inmate elders. That same month state prison officials announced a partnership with the non-profit Heart of Texas Foundation and Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Under this arrangement, forty prisoners per year were selected for a bachelor’s program that would prepare them to serve as “field ministers.” Two years after I turned to Jesus in faith and repentance, I was selected to attend this seminary. In May 2017, I graduated and was sent to preach the gospel at a prison near Wichita Falls.

I threw my life away in sin, but Jesus gave it back to me when he saved me.

My first ministry assignment lasted eight years. Along the way I experienced many challenges that come with building a healthy church in prison. Since I was convinced that 9Marks resources were biblical, I began to examine our weekly gathering against each mark of church health. Though it’s an unusual context, my experience has proven to me that healthy churches can be built even within the walls of a prison.

Allow me, then, to identify three traits of prison churches, and then I’ll share some ways that I’ve tried to promote the biblical marks of a healthy church in this unique context.

Prison Churches Have Ecumenical Gatherings 

Texas prison chaplains must facilitate one weekly service for Protestant inmates, which means that Baptists worship alongside our brothers from Methodist, Pentecostal, and non-denominational backgrounds. Resident inmates serve as music ministers and ushers, while guest volunteers, inmates, and the chaplain himself handle the preaching. Already you see how a prison church looks different than most other churches on the outside.

However, what may seem like a recipe for confusion can provide these churches an opportunity to display unity in their core beliefs. To build a church in this setting, I appeal to the congregation’s shared convictions concerning their love for God’s Word and their reverence for the gospel.

The Effectiveness of Expositional Preaching 

Expositional preaching in particular allows ministers to present God’s Word in a clear and straightforward manner. Prisoners in our church know the difference between text-driven and testimony-driven sermons, and they want the Bible. Sadly, the men (and women) who volunteer to preach in prison must pass security checks, not theological ones. Although the chaplain is responsible to screen the guest volunteers, the sermon’s method and content typically receive little oversight. And the prisoners rarely know the text beforehand and often don’t know the preacher.

While this situation is far from ideal, I have worked for chaplains who are open to showing greater discernment regarding who comes in and what they say. I’ve even found chaplains enthusiastic about expositional teaching through books of the Bible, a practice that transcends denominational differences. When an elder Christian brother named Randy was dying of liver disease several years ago, he said, “My only regret is that I won’t get to hear the end of our series on John’s epistles.” To promote sound preaching, I have taught my fellow inmates, spoken gently to volunteers, pleaded with chaplains, encouraged fellow inmate ministers, and volunteered for every preaching opportunity that arises.

The Centrality of the Gospel 

When I have the opportunity to address the congregation, I explain that we aren’t held together by race, where we’re from, gang affiliation, or any other trait that prisoners usually value. We are people united by a shared commitment to the gospel. And because of the gospel, our prison church should entail relationships that contrast relationships typical in our segregated prison population.

To promote gospel literacy, I have passed out dozens of copies of Greg Gilbert’s What Is the Gospel? along with a study guide I made. In my discipleship and pre-baptism classes, in meetings with the inmate ministry team, and in my preaching, I advocate a gospel-centered culture that “knows nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2). Since I’m responsible for serving all professing Christians, and not only the Reformed ones, the central truths of the gospel give me a “home base” to which I can safely return after venturing into secondary doctrines. Gradually the congregation learns to live in the prison like a people defined by the gospel.

The Importance of Conversion and Evangelism 

While I’ve found a willingness to unify around the gospel, I’ve noticed some confusion about how to share the gospel with others. Prisoners are accustomed to guests who lead the entire congregation in the “sinner’s prayer,” and we know at least one despondent man who tearfully gives his life to Jesus every Sunday. Any verbal profession is celebrated as a genuine conversion, with most ministers being hesitant to ask whether the inmate is credibly converted.

Like all Christians, those ministering in prison need to be reminded that conversion is a sovereign work of God’s Spirit and it comes about through the proclaimed Word. Ministers and Christian inmates should be encouraged to share Christ in their daily interactions, not merely to invite others to attend chapel (though this can be a good start). As with any church, building this culture of evangelism requires teaching from the pulpit, in smaller settings, and in one-on-one discipleship. Many Christian prisoners will adopt a biblical approach to evangelism if shown the way.

Prison Churches Are Allowed Little Formal Structure 

Prison rules prevent inmate-led organizations in which one inmate has authority over another. To many chaplains, this means the weekly gathering is not a church and the inmates who teach and preach are not elders. Other chaplains, realizing that spiritual leadership is voluntary and non-coercive, allow some formal structure under their direct supervision.

The Emergence of Church Leaders 

Despite disagreements over what to call them, church leaders typically emerge organically in the prison church. When I arrived at my first ministry assignment, I had the title “field minister,” but I had no informal influence. The true pastors were the men who lived there before me and who lovingly discipled the congregation. After a few years, men began calling me their pastor, not because my formal title changed, but because I fed and cared for them. Anywhere there is a church, there will be “young men” and there will be “fathers” (1 John 2:12–14). These “fathers” should carry out their responsibilities even if they have no formal recognition.

The Privilege of Church Membership 

Another challenge for a healthy prison church structure is identifying church members. At my last prison, the chaplain allowed anyone, whether Christian or not, to attend an “open call” Sunday service. At my current prison, on the other hand, churchgoers must request a pass to be added to the list of approved attendees. In either case, the de facto church elders must learn the regulars’ names, visit them, and provide pastoral care. With the chaplain’s support, the congregation can gradually be organized around a covenant and a statement of faith, a process that was started and abandoned at my current prison before I arrived. God willing, we will resume this practice, allowing those who affirm a covenant the benefits of accountability and church identity. Those unwilling to affirm our covenant would be free to continue in attendance, though ministry positions would only be offered to covenant members and the Lord’s Supper would be fenced.

The Safety of Church Discipline 

Without the structure of church membership and formal leadership, church discipline often looks very different in prison churches, as it is dependent on the strength of the relationships among these brothers in Christ. I urge our more mature men to cultivate relationships that can withstand gentle correction. And while I cannot expect another inmate to listen to me simply because I work for the chaplain, I can persuade him through my daily care that I love him and want what’s best for him. While excommunication is (legally) difficult to enact, a form of discipline can take place through interpersonal relationships. For instance, when a  member is caught getting high, the initial “between you and him alone” is often the point of restoration. If necessary, the chaplain can take formal action to suspend or remove someone whose behavior is bringing harm to God’s reputation or the church.

Ultimately, the guardian of the prison church is the Good Shepherd, who will expose sin, raise up undershepherds, and gather his flock wherever they are found. Whether through a conscientious chaplain, the tender care of accountability partners, or the convicting ministry of the Spirit, I’ve seen the prison church survive these structural challenges.

Prison Churches Are Made Up of Relationships Marked by Time and Transparency 

Oddly enough, the material deprivation and close quarters of prison can be a spiritually edifying environment. How healthy it is to share a cellblock with a spiritual elder, to be under their accountability when you are struggling with sin, or to have an abundance of time to spend with a new believer you are discipling! For its transparency and the time together it allows, the prison environment is fertile ground for deep discipleship.

The Intimacy of Discipleship 

I try to build discipleship relationships primarily within my housing unit.  As a new convert in 2010, I received constant watchful care from a half-dozen brothers who lived around me. They offered counsel, correction, prayer, and daily Bible study, and their lives modeled for me mature Christianity. Teacher-student relationships can thrive as young believers may live only five feet away from a mature saint. And there is ample time to pray, study, and enjoy life together. Prison churches are strongest when more mature believers initiate these discipling relationships within their cellblocks.

The Opportunities for Prayer 

The common areas of our cellblocks are our most accessible place to meet, and in every prison I’ve been in, there’s an openness to spirituality and a fear of the divine in a communal event known as the “prayer call.” An outspoken inmate will announce the appointed time, and men will stop what they’re doing to circle up and share their petitions. When this is done well, it can be evangelism-by-prayer, an opportunity for a believer to share the necessity of prayer through Jesus Christ and his call for all men everywhere to repent. The prayer call is but one venue for the prison church to share a biblical view of prayer.

Given the time we have for one-on-one discipleship, it’s possible for me to model prayer several times each day. In venues where corporate prayer is possible, I preface my prayers with short exhortations on the biblical priorities for prayer, such as the first three petitions of the Lord’s Prayer (Matt. 6:9–10). The proximity to my brothers means I am usually available to join them in prayer, and when my soul is weary, they are available to join me.

 The Challenge of Carrying Out the Church’s Mission 

A final challenge for prison churches comes in the area of missions. Our local family of believers must look first to areas of the prison where people have not heard the gospel and are unable, often for security reasons, to gather with us. At my current prison, we view the main assembly for general population inmates as the home church, with its mission field being the more secure housing areas, including death row. The “home church” sends out ministers to preach and gather with believers in other parts of the prison.

Our mission also encompasses planting house churches with as few as three members, which is especially helpful at prisons where the main assembly is dysfunctional. This was the case in 2019 when the Lord led a group of ten of us to come into a covenant with one another in an eighty-man dormitory. By God’s grace, we established this church just in time for the year-long prison lockdown caused by COVID-19. Through 2020 and 2021, we gathered weekly for worship, prayer, and study; we served our neighbors through evangelism and charity; and we represented the hope of Christ in a difficult time.

A Closing Plea 

You may not be reading this from a jail cell, but I wonder if you, pastor, have considered local jails and prisons like mine as one of your church’s mission fields? Across the security fencing and behind the high walls are men and women who may never experience the privilege of a healthy church if you do not plant one there. This will require a strong relationship with the chaplain, a time during which you teach the inmates basic ecclesiology, and the help of the Spirit to lead you and your congregation to gather these castaways as a church.

The biblical marks of a church highlighted by 9Marks have given me a barometer and a compass by which I measure the health of prison churches and plot a course forward. I do not believe prison’s restrictions make this important work impossible. In fact, I have explained that this context brings with it certain advantages to a faithful, Word-centered church. The Good Shepherd, who gathers and leads his sheep, will make a way. And as one minister among many who has been included in this display of my Savior’s grace, I am grateful.

The post Building Healthy Churches Behind Bars appeared first on 9Marks.

The other night I went to fill up a glass of water before bed when disaster struck. My aim was off as I reached toward the water dispenser on our fridge and the lip of the glass knocked awkwardly against the door. This caused me to lose my grip and drop the glass on the floor. My kitchen floor is mercilessly hard, so what happened next was inevitable. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces around my feet. I was stunned. It all happened so fast.

Over the past several years, many Christians have felt stunned by how quickly division can enter the church, shattering bonds that once kept believers close. We’ve seen it on macro levels as movements and institutions fracture and fray. We’ve seen it on micro levels as members leave and relationships rupture. Sometimes, we look back and recognize that the break was inevitable. But always, we grieve as brothers and sisters who once enjoyed fellowship now express hostility.

Division is not a new challenge for churches. Writing to the believers in Corinth, Paul says with a heavy heart, “I hear that there are divisions among you” (1 Cor. 11:18). As long as we live in this fallen world, unity will not come easily. But unity is possible as we “walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which [we] have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Eph. 4:1–3).

The question is: in this divided world, how can we foster this kind of unity within the church? And one answer is: by remembering our union with Christ.

Union with Christ refers to the believer’s position in Christ established at conversion, experienced in all of life, and enjoyed forever. It is a profoundly personal doctrine. But it is not merely a personal doctrine. God has united all his people together with Christ, and remembering our shared story, purpose, and future in Christ will strengthen our unity.

Our Shared Story in Christ 

Consider some idyllic small town in America on the Fourth of July. The members of the community, often isolated in the busyness of everyday life, come together for a morning parade. They smile and cheer for their school band and their veterans. Throughout the day, neighbors, friends, and families gather for backyard barbeques. And that night, everyone is together again for the fireworks. What’s causing this unusual display of camaraderie? A shared story. July Fourth is not just America’s Independence Day—it’s their Independence Day.

Union with Christ brings us into a shared story with all God’s people. Romans 6—which is all about union with Christ—makes this abundantly clear. In fact, it’s so obvious that sometimes we read right past it. Look at the first four verses and notice the pronouns:

What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. (Rom. 6:1–4)

Do you see the shared story? We, the church, have died to sin. We, the church, have been baptized into Christ Jesus. We, the church, have been buried with him and have risen with him to walk in newness of life. This is our story.

Remembering this story will help us foster the kind of humility necessary for unity. We were all once enslaved to sin. We have all experienced the same dramatic rescue. Despite our many differences, none of us has received any less saving than anyone else, because none of us needed any less saving than anyone else. Therefore, there’s no room for pride.

And we are all still struggling with sin. We are engaged in a warfare we cannot win on our own. We need all the help that God provides, including the strength that comes through his people.

Our Shared Purpose in Christ 

In the church, we all have the same purpose: we are aiming to grow into the “measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Eph. 4:13). Since we are united with him, we want to live like him. And Jesus never intended for us to do this on our own.

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. (Eph. 4:15–16)

We are saved together, and we are sanctified together. As Sinclair Ferguson writes, “The fellowship of the church is the context in which sanctification matures.”1 God has called us to grow in Christlikeness alongside Christ’s people. And when we work properly together, we will grow together.

What does it look like to work properly together? Well, we don’t need fellow believers to kick us when we’re down or guilt us into insincere repentance. We need brothers and sisters who are willing to hang in there with us, to pray for us, and to remind us of the inexhaustible grace that is ours in Christ. We need fellow church members who will lovingly spur us on toward godliness until the race is complete.

Our Shared Future in Christ 

We’re all headed somewhere. Apart from Christ, we were headed toward the grim reality of everlasting death. But in Christ, we are headed toward the glorious destiny of everlasting life (Rom. 6:23). And we will not enjoy eternal life on our own.

One day, we will stand together in the presence of our Lord, united forever. All the petty arguments and painful disagreements that divide us now will have come to an end. Every Christian relationship that broke apart in this life will come back together. A perfect unity of unending love is all that will remain.

We’re not there yet. But in Christ, we will get there. And knowing that we will spend eternity alongside all of Christ’s people should encourage us to pursue greater unity now.

So, as you gather with your church this Lord’s Day, remember your shared story, your shared purpose, and your shared future. Remember and rejoice, for all of this is yours in Christ.

***
Editor’s Note: This article has been adapted from Brad Wetherell’s book Saved to Sin No More: How Union with Christ Empowers a Life of Holiness, (Crossway, 2026).

The post How Union with Christ Unites the Church appeared first on 9Marks.

My eyes were scanning and then I noticed my friend John. Almost immediately, my mind churned with thoughts and questions:

• How could I not have thought to warn him about this?
• He can’t do this; it will be terrible for him.
• What should I say? It will be awkward if I say something.
• Maybe if I don’t say anything at all, he just won’t do it.
• Am I culpable if I don’t warn him?

I resolved to say something. I leaned over and whispered something like this: “You shouldn’t do this. This is not for you. I can explain more later.” John acquiesced. He didn’t take the Lord’s Supper.

Should I have warned my friend not to take the Lord’s Supper? It’s a good question. But it raises several other questions: who exactly is the Lord’s Supper for? Who should say who can partake of the Lord’s Supper? How can churches properly ensure that only the right people take the Lord’s Supper?

In this article, I hope to answer these questions and provide some helpful examples from church history (and the present day) as to how churches might serve the Lord’s Supper to the right people. This is what people have often called “fencing the table.”

1. What Is the Lord’s Supper? 

The New Hampshire Confession of Faith defines the Lord’s Supper this way:

We believe that Christian Baptism . . . is prerequisite to the privileges of a church relation; and to the Lord’s Supper, in which the members of the church, by the sacred use of bread and wine, are to commemorate together the dying love of Christ; preceded always by solemn self-examination. (Article 14)

So, baptism leads to membership and membership is displayed, in part, through participation in the Lord’s Supper. The Supper itself makes use of bread and wine in order to represent what Jesus secured for us via his death—union with himself and one another.

2. Who Should Take the Lord’s Supper? 

As we saw in the New Hampshire Confession, the Supper is only for baptized church members. But why? Three criteria help us break that down. First, the partaker must be born-again. Regeneration is the formal qualification for partaking because partaking is an act of faith. Without faith, one can’t receive Christ in the Supper.

Second, the partaker must be baptized. The Lord’s Supper is a covenant sign for those who have professed faith through baptism. Baptism is the front door of the church, and the dining room is where you feast on the Supper. You must walk through the door to get to the dining room.

Third, the partaker must belong.This point is shaped by Bobby Jamieson’s discussion of the relationship between church membership and the ordinances in Going Public (Nashville, TN: B&H, 2015), 138-139. That is, they must be accountable to a local church via something that looks like membership. The Lord’s Supper certainly strengthens the faith of individual believers, but it is not an exclusively individual event. Instead, the meal belongs to Christ’s gathered people—i.e., local churches. The local church, therefore, is the authorized agent for administering the Supper. Baptized believers have a right to the Lord’s Supper by virtue of their membership in the church.

So who is excluded from the Supper? Unbelievers, unbaptized believers, and unchurched believers should all be excluded.

3. How Can Pastors Wisely Administer the Lord’s Supper? 

At least two practices help pastors and churches properly fence the table.

First, preach the Word. The proclamation of the gospel is the foundation for the Lord’s Supper. Through a right understanding of the gospel which comes through preaching, the Lord’s Supper becomes a tangible, visible illustration of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ—a visual sermon in itself. So, to properly fence the table, the gospel must be preached because the gospel is what explains the Table and qualifies who may come to it (Col. 1:13–14).

Second, practice meaningful church membership. Fencing the table begins in the interview process of a prospective member. That is where you, pastor, should ensure he or she understands the gospel, believes it, and has professed it through baptism. The other side of meaningful membership—church discipline—is also necessary in order to properly fence the table.

If your church is full of unrepentant sinners who Sunday after Sunday partake of the Supper as though it’s all okay, then you have a serious problem. This not only potentially deceives the partaker to their eternal detriment, but it also confuses the world on what it means to be a Christian. What lies between becoming a member and potentially disciplining members is discipling members. Through the ordinary means of grace, church members should grow to look more like Jesus.

You may be thinking, “Okay, Nick. I got preaching and membership, but what would it look like to actually fence the table?” To answer this, let’s survey three examples—two from the past and one from today.

John Calvin (1509–1564) 

In his Lord’s Supper liturgy, Calvin included words for both true believers and those who professed to believe but undermined their confession with their lifestyle. For the true believer, Calvin encouraged them to discern “whether he truly repent[ed] of his faults and is sorry for them.”John Calvin, “Forms of Ecclesiastical Prayers” in Reformation Worship, 327. For the deceived unbeliever, however, Calvin actually issued an excommunication of sorts to be individually administered. Here is a sampling of that excommunication:

In the name and by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ, I excommunicate all idolaters, blasphemers . . . all those who rebel against their father and mother . . . quarrelers, fighters, adulterers . . . hoarders of wealth . . . drunkards . . . gluttons, and all those who lead a scandalous life.Calvin, “Forms,” 326.

From this, we may observe that Calvin rightly connects excommunication with the Lord’s Supper. That’s the essence of excommunication: public disfellowshipping through exclusion from the Lord’s Supper. This connection is in contrast with evangelical churches who have wrongly separated the Lord’s Supper from belonging to a church.

Also, it is interesting to note that Calvin loosely followed the Ten Commandments for determining who was disqualified from the Lord’s Supper. In other words, Calvin was not arbitrary in his judgments but rather adhered to biblical morality.

While Calvin is right in both regards, he wrongly assumed for himself and the other pastors the authority to excommunicate. This measure is inconsistent with the New Testament where the authority of the keys resides with the congregation (1 Cor 5:1–8).

So you may not want to follow Calvin’s model of publicly listing who may not take the Supper. And yet, his example does provoke us to think about how we might protect the Lord’s Supper from “pollut[ion] and contaminat[ion].”Calvin, “Forms,” 326.

Thomas Cranmer (1489–1556) 

The Anglican Tradition is well known for its liturgy, especially the Book of Common Prayer, which is largely the work of English Reformer Thomas Cranmer. Like Calvin, Cranmer also included a word for the spiritually deceived in his “fencing of the table.” He would say:

If any of you here is a blasphemer, adulterer, or is in malice, or envy, or in any other grievous crime (except he is truly sorry, therefore and earnestly minded to leave the same vices, and trust himself to be reconciled to Almighty God . . . ), let him bewail his sins, and not come to that holy table.Thomas Cranmer, “The Supper of the Lord, and the Holy Communion, Commonly Called the Mass” in the Book of Common Prayer (1549) in Reformation Worship, 366.

Here we see two distinct features in Cranmer’s “fencing” compared to Calvin’s. First, Cranmer speaks directly to the sinner and calls them to action. He doesn’t excommunicate them, but rather pushes them toward godly repentance. Secondly, Cranmer invites the penitent sinner who has committed such gross sins to be reconciled to God. The Supper is for repentant sinners.

Cranmer’s model here instructs us that no matter how scandalous the sin, if a sinner is truly repentant, he too can “take and eat.” So, the fencing of the table is an opportunity for you, pastor, to call the erring to repentance.

An Example from Our Local Church 

At my church on Capitol Hill, we prepare for the Supper by reading 1 Corinthians 11:27–29 aloud. After this reading, we issue an invitation and a soft fencing. Below are the words I used to fence the table when I led the Lord’s Supper recently:

We understand that this means that this table is open to you this evening if you are a baptized member of an evangelical church in good standing. That includes members of this church and members of other churches where the same gospel you’ve heard here is preached. If you’re allowed to take the Lord’s Supper there, then you’re welcome here. If you’re not sure, then you don’t need to feel any embarrassment. It’s our custom not to come forward, but for the elements to be brought to you. As the plate is passed along, you can simply let it pass by and use the time for prayer and reflection.

You may notice some stark differences between my church’s practice and Calvin and Cranmer’s. For starters, our fencing doesn’t focus as much on what the individual has done (i.e., their specific sins). Instead, we highlight membership in a local church. That said, we do fence the table against wrong believing and wrong living. By wrong believing, I mean those who believe a different gospel. By wrong living, I mean those who are not “members in good standing”; that is, those who have been excommunicated in our church or another church.

We also provide a category for people who are not sure where they stand spiritually. In their case, we encourage them not to feel any embarrassment but instead spend that time in reflection and prayer.

Concluding Encouragement 

So however you fence the table, let me encourage you to preach the gospel clearly, practice meaningful membership, and learn from church history as well as from other churches around you. Finally, remember that the fence must have a gate. Don’t build the fence so high and thick that weak believers feel unable to partake in the Supper. Calvin is helpful here:

And since we are conscious of our much frailty and misery in ourselves . . . let us understand, therefore, that this Sacrament is a medicine for poor, spiritually sick people, and that the only worthiness that our Lord requires of us is to know ourselves well enough to be displeased with our vices and to find all our pleasure, joy, and contentment in him alone.John Calvin, “Forms of Ecclesiastical Prayers” in Reformation Worship, 327. 

Amen.

The post Who Is the Supper for and How Do We Fence the Table? appeared first on 9Marks.

There are many things seminary doesn’t prepare a pastor to do. 

I’ll concede, however, that much of what seminary doesn’t prepare a pastor to do is based on the context in which he serves. For example, in my early years of pastoral ministry at Christ Church West Chester (then The Journey), seminary didn’t prepare me for the reality that I’d have to shovel snow off the sidewalk on the same Sunday mornings I was frantically trying to finish my first sermons; it didn’t prepare me for the fact that I’d have to learn how to troubleshoot a boiler system via FaceTime with Terry Kraus so that we could assemble in a warm gathering space; or that I’d (literally) have to chase bats out of the sanctuary so they wouldn’t fly in circles over people’s heads during our evening services. 

Today, though, I can happily say, nearly eleven years later, I’m prepared for (some of) what seminary didn’t prepare me for: we have interns to shovel our sidewalks; more competent men alongside Terry Kraus to service our building; and bats have been (mostly) chased out and are now (mostly) kept out, thanks to the wire fencing in our tower. 

And yet, after all these years and on the other side of my sabbatical, I’m still learning about something that seminary didn’t prepare me for—understanding the privilege of pastoral ministry. Now, to be fair, I don’t believe seminary can prepare a pastor to understand this privilege, at least not in the way I’m thinking of here. This type of understanding is based on both the place and the length of a pastorate. 

For example, seminary didn’t prepare me for the happiness I’d experience at Claire Baker’s wedding; for the anguish I felt when Terri Melloni’s daughter passed away; for the burden I sense for those afflicted by trials and temptations and delayed providence and broken promises and missed expectations and scary situations and uncertain futures; or for the distraught hopefulness I feel in the wake of Murray Mullins’s sudden death last Thursday. (There are many other examples I could share, but not all of them can be in a public forum). 

Seminary didn’t prepare me to understand that this is the privilege of pastoral ministry—to be beside you, serving as your pastor at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows in your lives; to be with you from life’s first cry, when you welcome your child(ren) into the world, to life’s final breath, when you leave the land of the dying for the land of the living; and to be near you when life doesn’t work out the way you thought or expected or desired. And reminding you all along the way of the love of God the Father through God the Son in the power of God the Spirit, even as I’ve prayed that you would keep the faith and not lose heart. 

Writing Murray’s funeral sermon last week brought these feelings to mind, as I had the privilege of exercising my final duty as his pastor. I smiled as I wrote, because I realized that it was a gift to remember the man, our beloved brother, Murray Mullins. (I even told Meghan that funeral sermons for our members are my favorite sermons to write and preach, not because I want you to pass, but because I get to think about you and serve you one last time). 

As I continue to learn the privilege of pastoral ministry, I think for the first time I understand the apostle and can say, “For what is [my] hope or joy or crown of boasting before the Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you,” Christ Church West Chester. “For you are [my] glory and joy” (1 Thes. 2:19–20). 

Faithfully, 

Your pastor, 

Raymond M. Johnson 

The post The Privilege of Pastoral Ministry: A Letter to My Church appeared first on 9Marks.

Zack DiPrima. Charles Simeon: Parish Pastor. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2025.

If you’re reading this review on this site, you probably know Charles Simeon as a preacher—and for good reason. But what do you know about the man as a pastor?

Charles Simeon: Parish Pastor is Zack DiPrima’s treatment of this topic in a slightly modified form of his dissertation. While Simeon’s imposing preaching ministry and influence on Anglicanism in the eighteenth century are well documented, DiPrima’s research sheds light on the pastoral theology that undergirded his storied ministry (10). The book examines five aspects of the pastoral theology of the apostle of Cambridge: mentoring, churchmanship, personal piety, local parish ministry, and preaching (10).

DiPrima aims to give his readers a dead mentor. He writes as one whose spirituality has “been mostly shaped by evangelical Anglicans,” men such as Richard Sibbes, Charles Bridges, J.C. Ryle, and, of course, Charles Simeon. DiPrima also writes as one who would like to see a recovery of Simeon’s brand of ministry (ix), as we suffer from the lack of such models. “The broader evangelical movement today aches for a generation of pastors whose ministries are infused with the savor of Christ” (ix). I cannot help but agree. The pastors who rise to public prominence in our culture—and thus are the most accessible examples to follow—often do so because of their cantankerous extremity or pragmatic success.

Simeon, on the other hand, was not only zealous but warm, not only faithful but exceedingly fruitful, not only towering in his influence but committed to his local parish. He stands in contrast to the better-known evangelists of the eighteenth century who impacted the world by focusing on ministry outside their parishes. “By staying local and exemplifying an extraordinary commitment to ordinary ministry, he marshaled a multitude of zealous men ready to follow his model.” That is, “In order to reach people outside his parish, he molded pastors—and in order to train pastors, he cared for the people within his parish” (11). And the results were impressive: Simeon trained over 1100 ministers, placing pastors in a multitude of churches, sending missionaries, and inspiring the likes of Charles Bridges and John Stott. It’s Simeon’s commitment to simplicity and the ordinary means of grace that make his model of pastoring so magnetic and replicable.

Rather than offering a formal review of the book, I want to highlight a particular aspect of Simeon’s pastoral theology, his mentoring, in the hopes that it will inspire you to read the book and imitate the model and tenor of Simeon’s pastoral ministry.

Ministerial Mentor 

Simeon understood that part of the pastor’s job is to replicate himself. Therefore, he generously gave his time to befriending and teaching young men at Cambridge. It’s important to situate Simeon in his own historical ecclesiological context to appreciate the significance of his approach.

Anglicanism was deeply hierarchical (30), yet Simeon, without eschewing his polity and tradition, treated all fellow Anglicans like peers. Of his curates (think lowly pastoral assistants) he remarked, “Not my curate” but “my brother.” Likewise, he gave the men he trained his time and affection, in part by hosting smaller gatherings—conversation parties and preaching cohorts. In the former, dozens of men (and some women) would pack into Simeon’s sitting room weekly to ask and learn about pastoral ministry. These “parties” were Socratic and uniquely “provided him an opportunity to address precise points of pastoral theology in an unhurried environment” (31). The preaching cohorts were smaller. “Simeon would offer a text for consideration and charged the men to produce a sermon outline for the text during the meeting” (31). Simeon would then provide feedback, allowing him to mold a generation of future preachers.

Simply put, Simeon gave these men his teaching and his life. It was the two in tandem that impacted them. Simeon’s view of pastoral ministry was deeply shaped by 1 Thessalonians 2:7: “But we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children.” And as DiPrima demonstrates through the writings of the men Simeon mentored, they experienced his gentle nurturing firsthand and, in turn, gave him their hearts. Again, Simeon needs situating. Pastoral ministry in the state church at the time was often little more than a vocation. In fact, men regularly spoke of their evangelical conversions while they were in the ministry (157). Simeon’s burning zeal for Christ stood out against a backdrop of clerical mediocrity and malaise. He was passionate about the Word of God, the church of Christ, and the souls of the people, and so he drew young men to himself. However, as DiPrima notes, “Young Ministers did not just learn from Simeon, they longed to be like him” (93). When, for example, Thomas Thomason, a disciple of Simeon’s, served overseas, he carried a picture of Simeon because it “steeled his confidence through periods of anxiety” (109). Shortly before Thomason’s death, he shared the following about his mentor: ”To my very dear Mr. Simeon say, I feel unworthy of the great love he has had at all times honored me with. Oh may his bow abide in strength, and may he be, if possible, still more useful in his age” (44).

Such stories are manifold throughout the book. When William Wilberforce, the famous abolitionist, heard Simeon preach, he was left “undone by his total devotion to God.” He remarked, “Simeon with us—his heart glowing with love for Christ. How full he is of love, and of desire to promote the spiritual benefit of others. Oh! That I might copy him as he Christ” (159).Emphasis mine. And many men did copy his lifestyle and preaching.

Powerful Preacher 

Readers familiar with Simeon will likely associate him with his preaching, and DiPrima highlights this aspect of Simeon’s ministry as well. The state church in his day produced preachers like it produced pastors. Sermons were manuscripted, sterile, and less than biblical. It was not uncommon, in fact, for men to read the sermons of others from the pulpit. Simeon, however, ascended into the pulpit as one standing as God’s ambassador. He preached as one with and under authority. He understood his task, then, as bringing out what is in the Bible, never being wiser than the text. His goal was to give his people an encounter with the Almighty God (177). It was earnest and powerful. Yet it was also simple and textual and, therefore, replicable. And replicate it he did.

Evangelicalism as a whole, and expositional preaching as one facet of it, was fringe at the time of Simeon’s appointment to Trinity Church. But it would spread through the whole of England by Simeon’s death, and even continue beyond his death. His model would be “immortalized in the writing of Charles Bridges,” who instructed another generation of preachers to make use of Simeon’s skeletal sermon outlines (188). Later giants like John Stott and J.I. Packer would also “trace their roots as preachers back to Simeon” (183).

I heartily recommend Zack DiPrima’s book both as an historical work and for the gift it gives: a dead (or should we say, living) mentor in Simeon. A man who was long-suffering, holy, humble, and zealously committed to the Word of God in the church of Christ. A man who not only preached faithfully but gave his life to his people. May God raise up more men like this.

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The young man sitting in my office was clearly in distress and had come to me for help. He was convinced that he’d committed the “unforgivable sin of blaspheming the Holy Spirit,” which Jesus refers to in Matthew 12:30–32. When I asked why he thought he had done such a thing, he told me the thought had entered his mind, and he simply could not escape it. I gently suggested that those who had actually blasphemed the Spirit were unlikely to be concerned about it. He acknowledged this but could find no relief for himself. It was at this point that he told me a mental health professional had given him a diagnosis of “scrupulosity.” I had never heard of the term. But as I learned more about it, I realized I had encountered it often, and so had others.

In his book Precious Remedies Against Satan’s Devices, Puritan pastor Thomas Brooks addresses a panoply of pastoral counseling cases, including one he called a “sad, doubting, questioning, and uncomfortable condition.” What he had in mind were people whose consciences were wracked with guilt over sin, real or imagined, that left them in despair. While many causes could give rise to this, one was clearly what we would call an over-scrupulous conscience. Brooks described his counselees as those who “mind their sins more than their Savior,” those who “make false definitions of their graces,” and those who are convinced that “their graces are not true but counterfeit.” That is to say, their conscience either sees sin where there is no sin or fails to see the grace for sin that is theirs through faith in Jesus Christ.

Examples abound. The teenager who’s never sure their repentance was sincere enough and so confesses the same sin repeatedly in their nightly prayers. The child who’s never sure their profession of faith was genuine and so prays the sinner’s prayer for the umpteenth time. The missionary who’s paralyzed in his ministry lest he say something wrong that obscures the gospel he came to preach. The mom who’s convinced that her own failings are irredeemably damaging her children and only finds temporary relief from her guilt in their good behavior. These are just a few of the overly scrupulous consciences I’ve encountered. But they stand in good company. A young Martin Luther wearied his pastor so much with prolonged, detailed, and repeated confessions that his pastor finally told him to become a Bible professor, as if to say, “Physician, heal thyself!”

As pastors, how do we help those who suffer from an overly scrupulous conscience? Puritan pastors like Thomas Brooks, Richard Baxter, and Richard Sibbes, among others, wrote hundreds of pages on cases of a conscience like this. So what follows is not meant to be exhaustive and definitive, but suggestive and directional. I want to suggest two categories to explore, three resources to employ, and one posture to adopt.

Two Categories to Explore 

Fundamental to any biblical anthropology is a conviction that human beings are embodied souls. We are not Gnostics, who think the body does not matter. Nor are we materialists, who deny the reality of our spiritual nature. Some creatures that God has made are essentially one or the other. Angels are spiritual beings. My dog Hektor is alive but lacks an intelligent soul. But human beings uniquely possess both. And while body and soul are distinct, in this life, they are never separate. What happens to the body affects the soul, and what happens to the soul affects the body. Psalm 88 powerfully illustrates this. The author is clearly depressed, and it affects his body. He is like one without strength, abandoned among the dead, like the slain lying in the grave (vv. 4–5). But it also affects him spiritually and emotionally. A sense of God’s wrath weighs on him (v. 7). He feels alone, rejected, and abandoned, not only by his friends, but by God himself (vv. 8, 14). Thomas Brooks’s “sad, doubting, questioning, and uncomfortable condition” is simultaneously a spiritual and bodily experience, and we should address both categories of that experience.

This means that as pastors, we should never hesitate or fear to ask if they’ve talked with a medical doctor about what they’re experiencing. Some people suffering from overly scrupulous consciences are experiencing intrusive or perseverating thoughts and may resort to repetitive, ritualistic prayers or activities in a search for relief from their distress. These physical acts can even become compulsive, disrupting sleep and normal daily life. While no medicine can “cure” an overly scrupulous conscience, in some cases, there are medications that can help a person reassert control over what feels like thoughts and rituals that are controlling them. A doctor may also be able to help with issues that could be exacerbating their distress, like poor sleep or nutrition. It’s well known that when people came to him for counsel, Martyn Lloyd-Jones, a former medical doctor, almost always started by making sure they were getting sleep, nutrition, and exercise. If the body is not well, the soul will feel it. So don’t forget to ask about it.

But we’re not just bodies, we’re also souls, and dealing with the troubled conscience, especially an overly sensitive one, requires us to pay close attention to spiritual categories like sin and doubt, repentance and faith. These are things that pastors are deeply familiar with, but in this case, an extra level of care is warranted. While the overly scrupulous often present the same—lack of assurance, a weight of unrelievable guilt, intrusive thoughts, and a restless, compulsive search for relief—not every instance of “scrupulosity” is the same. Brooks lists no less than eight “devices” or causes that the enemy employs to bring Christians into this “sad condition.” Several of them do not involve sin at all, but rather misunderstandings about the nature of providence, the nature of sanctification, or the role of emotions in the Christian life. For Brooks, each separate cause suggests one or more specifically tailored “remedies,” or pastoral responses. Just as hay fever requires an antihistamine rather than an antipyretic, different causes of scrupulosity require different spiritual remedies. While it may be tempting to tell the overly scrupulous to repent and leave it in God’s hands, such counsel might make their suffering worse by leaving the root cause entirely unaddressed. As pastors, our calling is the spiritual care of souls. We don’t want to commit spiritual malpractice. Bringing relief to the overly scrupulous requires us to do more than the pastoral equivalent of “take two aspirin and call me in the morning.” We need to take time to carefully diagnose the causes for the specific person under our care.

Three Resources to Employ 

What resources can we bring to bear to help the overly sensitive conscience? I want to highlight three means of grace that the scrupulous conscience needs.

Scripture 

Paul reminds Timothy that all Scripture is “profitable for teaching, for rebuking, for correcting, for training in righteousness,” and at least three of those uses, if not all four, are appropriate for the overly scrupulous. As he treated various cases of conscience, Thomas Brooks repeatedly turned to the Scriptures, not least because he understood that underneath and behind the wrong thinking about their relationship to God, the overly scrupulous were believing lies about God and themselves. Both distorted theology and anthropology needed to be corrected if comfort was to be received.

For example, to those who thought more of their sin than their Savior, he reminds them that though “Christ in this life will not free any believer from the presence of any one sin, he doth free every believer from the damning power of every sin.” Then he grounds that remedy in Romans 8:1, “There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.”

We need to be quick to turn to the Scriptures with the overly scrupulous, not simply to comfort them but to correct their distorted views and remind them of the truths Scripture reveals about God, themselves, and the gospel. That way, when the lies of Satan and their own conscience assert themselves, they can counter those lies with truth.

At the same time, we need to be wise in the use of Scripture. The overly scrupulous can easily take the instruction offered and twist it into further proof of their doubts or turn it into another mechanistic means of relief that ultimately fails. It’s helpful at this point to remember that, ultimately, the Scriptures reveal not a system of truths, but the person of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen for sinners. Sometimes, the best use of Scripture will not be to correct false thinking, but to direct them to the rest that’s found in the arms of Jesus.

In our preaching ministry, we need to remember that for every hardened conscience sitting in the pew, there’s at least one sensitive conscience, if not several, sitting next to them. So often our sermon applications lean toward correction and exhortation, perhaps because we’re preaching to ourselves. But the overly scrupulous conscience hears our exhortation as condemnation and further proof that they are not right with God. Jesus said, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:30). We want to make sure that the overly sensitive conscience walks away from our sermons convinced that’s true.

Prayer 

To whatever extent “scrupulosity” is a malfunction of the brain, medical remedies can help. But to whatever extent it is a spiritual affliction, whether of unbelief or Satanic attack, we must avail ourselves of the Spirit’s aid. One of the sad byproducts of the overly sensitive conscience is that the sufferer feels either that they cannot approach God in prayer, or they turn prayer into a mechanistic, ritualistic, and repetitive exercise. Either way, faith is lacking, and James reminds us that prayers offered without faith are not answered (Jas. 1:6–7). So it is especially important that we not only pray for but also with those who suffer in this way. And when we pray, we want to pray not only for comfort and relief, but for faith, for light, and for protection. Pray for faith to trust the gospel; pray for the light of truth to dispel distorted thinking and lies; pray that the enemy would not find a foothold.

The Church 

The path to spiritual health for the overly scrupulous is long. The combination of deeply rooted lies and deeply ingrained compulsions is not quickly overcome. There will be many relapses along the way, and unexpected situations will trigger, or at least threaten to resurrect, old patterns of thinking and behaving. For this reason, the burden of “pastoring” the scrupulous cannot fall on just one counselor, pastor, or friend. The whole church is needed. So pull together a team of mature believers who can regularly but gently remind the sufferer of the truths of the gospel. Pull in friends or church members with expertise in mental health care as well as spiritual soul care. Include people whose main role is to help the suffering saint carry on with normal life. Simply having someone to take a daily walk or engage in a hobby with can be very helpful for the person paralyzed by guilt over what they may or may not have sinfully done. Trapped in their heads, they need friends who can help them escape the endless loop by simply reconnecting with their body. No one person can do all of this. It takes the whole church to do the work of the church, as “speaking the truth in love,” we “grow in every way into him who is the head—Christ” (Eph. 4:15).

One Posture to Adopt 

As I sat and listened to the young man in distress before me that day, and as I began to reason with him out of the Scriptures, I confess that what I felt rising within me was frustration and impatience. No matter what I said, no matter what Scripture I brought to bear, his scrupulosity had an objection. It was as if he were invincible to the comfort of the gospel. And so I began to pray for compassion, patience, and a willingness to listen. All those things were important. But as I continued to work with him over the ensuing months, what I realized I needed most was to adopt a posture of gentle but joyfully confident faith. Faith for him that he was safe and forgiven, even though he didn’t feel like he was. Faith that the gospel was true for him, even though he thought it was only true for others. Faith that Jesus loved him, even delighted in him, even though he was convinced otherwise. Faith that grace was evident in his life, even though all he could see was his sin.

The sad irony of the overly scrupulous Christian is that they see in themselves what should drive them to Christ, and that’s their sin. And yet it drives them away. As pastors, we labor week in and week out to get people to take their sin more seriously, to see what they don’t want to see. The scrupulous see it all too well, and then some. But that’s all they see. And yet, as Richard Sibbes so famously put it, “There is more grace in Christ than sin in thee.” As a pastor, you will need to instruct and correct and exhort. But most of all, adopt a posture that lets them see Jesus in you, so that slowly but surely they will come to see Jesus, “full of grace and truth,” for them (John 1:16–17).

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“Dad, Mr. Brooks looks so old!”

[Insert snickering and agreement from siblings]

“But, dad, Mrs. Nina looks so beautiful!”

[Insert hysterical laughter and overwhelming agreement from siblings]

When Brooks Buser gave me the box set of Missionary: Obeying the Great Commission, I was honored and excited. Honored, because I know something of the hard work he and others put into the project. Excited, because I’m always looking for good ways to tell good stories to my congregation and my children, something each episode of Missionary’s original docuseries does incredibly well.

This docuseries tells the story of Christians who followed Christ’s call to “go” as it takes viewers through history and around the world to learn about some of the church’s most noteworthy missionaries. The real benefit, though, isn’t merely its historical accuracy or global scope but its ability to expand mission-related categories in the minds of God’s people.

In the Church 

As the series takes you through the lives of William Tyndale, Hudson Taylor, Amy Carmichael, William Carey, David Livingstone, and John Paton, it’s striking to see their “common” faith. We’re reminded that God uses the faith of ordinary Christians to do the extraordinary work of bringing people into the kingdom of Christ and planting (or strengthening) local churches. This kingdom work often takes a painstakingly long time—time well invested since “we not only want to quickly light [evangelistic] fires, but we want to build [local church] furnaces that will last.”Mark Dever, Missionary, John Paton episode.

As a pastor, this series helps me teach my congregation that they don’t have to have a PhD or be widely read or well-spoken to be faithful to Christ’s call to “go.” They need the same thing those six great missionaries possessed—a common faith in the knowledge of the truth that issues forth in obedience to Jesus’s missionary mandate. This common faith is well-suited for missionary work that crosses geographical and linguistic boundaries.

This series also helps me prioritize the church’s role in our missionary endeavors, which affects the missionaries we support, the missions organizations we funnel missionaries toward, and the missions efforts we invest in. We want our missions efforts to be aimed at planting or strengthening local churches.

In the Home 

I tested the storytelling capabilities of this series on my children first. They know Brooks, so I assumed they’d be at least marginally interested, particularly since we started with the “Bonus Feature: YembiYembi: Unto the Nations”—and I was right.

After observing how beautiful Mrs. Nina looked on camera (in contrast to her dear husband, Mr. Brooks), my kids watched with unflinching focus until one of them remarked, “That looks like a happy place, Daddy. I’d like to go there someday.” This observation opened the door for us to talk about why the YembiYembi people were so happy—they were getting a Bible in their own language! Like Namake, John Paton’s friend, they “knew that if there is a God and he had spoken to [them], but not in [their own] language, it would do [them] no good.”Mark Dever, Missionary, John Paton episode.

My kids got a sense of what it’s like to live away from home in a second language, and they saw the need for translation work because so many people still have no access to God’s Word in their own language. Introducing these missions-related categories helps me as a parent to teach my children how to leverage their life for the sake of what God is doing globally. 

How We Did It 

So, practically, how do we expose our church and our children to a series like this? I assume there are a variety of good ways, but here are two things we did (one as a church, one as parents).

First, our church regularly meets on Wednesdays at 6 p.m. for a midweek inductive Bible study. Since we open the church building at 5 p.m. to let our members eat and fellowship in the lead-up to the study, we announced that we’d be watching the series from 5 p.m. to 5:40 p.m. each Wednesday night. It’s a simple way for our church to grow in its understanding of church-centered missions over dinner.

Second, as a parent, I took time to watch Missionary with my kids and to make each viewing special. Hot chocolate and popcorn did the trick in our home! Each viewing was followed by a brief conversation about what was striking and what they learned. My goal was simply to expand mission-related categories in their young minds.

Conclusion 

I chuckle now as I remember what my kids said about my friend “Mr. Brooks,” but I was surprised when my nine-year-old son realized he missed rewatching “YembiYembi: Unto the Nations” on a Wednesday evening and all but begged me to have it played again so he could rewatch it—a desire his pastor-father was happy to oblige. And I was surprised again when last night he sat beside me in our church’s sanctuary as “YembiYembi: Unto the Nations” came on and said, “This is my favorite one. They get the Bible for their church.” That’s right, my son, and that’s what makes Missionary different from National Geographic.

The post A Resource to Point You to God’s Global Purposes: Missionary: Obeying the Great Commission appeared first on 9Marks.

The nature and function of the “conscience” is something we often take for granted. In one sense, few things seem as immediate and obvious as the nature of this particular human faculty: a person’s conscience discerns right from wrong, approving the former and disapproving the latter. And yet, there is also a sense in which the precise nature of the conscience eludes us. Theologian Charles Hodge (1797–1878) describes the conscience as a “mysterious power,” a mental faculty that seems both to emerge from our inner world and stand outside of us as an external judge.Charles Hodge, Princeton Sermons: Outlines of Discourses, Doctrinal and Practical (Banner of Truth Trust, 1958), 170.

A further complication arises from the evident reality that one’s conscience can malfunction. As Hodge puts it, “It is not infallible in its judgments.”Hodge, Princeton Sermons, 170. Though usually a reliable guide, experience suggests and Scripture confirms that one’s conscience can both go strangely quiet in the face of sin and chirp too loudly about matters on which the Bible is silent. Paul illustrates both when he warns Timothy against “the insincerity of liars whose consciences are seared” (1 Tim. 4:2). Having lost all sensitivity to the real sin in their lives (e.g., they are untroubled by their dishonesty), these mencan still insist that Christians “abstain from foods that God created to be received with thanksgiving” (1 Tim. 4:3). These two seemingly opposite faults stem from the same problem: a failure to correctly calibrate the conscience.

If this sort of miscalibration characterizes those who are on the wrong path, it seems reasonable to conceive the life of the believer as a lifelong attempt to calibrate the conscience correctly. Indeed, Paul does something very close to this in Romans 12:2, framing a godly life in terms of “the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” That is a fine definition of a rightly calibrated Christian conscience: thoroughly transformed and renewed by the Spirit, such that it is able to “discern what is the will of God” in every situation.

But how, exactly, do we do this? How do we perceive God’s perfect will for our lives while neither succumbing to an overly sensitive legalism nor an overly permissive license? For those in ministry, the need to understand these dynamics is impelled by a double burden. Pastors must both attend to our own consciences and look after the spiritual health of those set under our care. Indeed, as the Puritan William Ames put it, the minister’s “daily labor . . . is to deal with the consciences of men.”William Ames, Conscience with the Power and Cases Thereof (London, 1639), “To the Reader.”Another way to describe that “daily labor” is as a continual attempt to calibrate consciences so that they increasingly reflect God’s own character.

Let’s consider four key steps along that road.

1. A Properly Calibrated Christian Conscience Begins with Becoming a Christian

This does not mean that non-Christians lack a conscience. The conscience is a constituent part of our humanity as made in God’s image, and Scripture teaches that even fallen sinners “show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them” (Rom. 2:15). As Archibald Alexander (1772–1851) observes, “Though man in his natural state is spiritually dead . . . yet is he still a reasonable being, and has a conscience by which he is capable of discerning the difference between good and evil, and of feeling the force of moral obligation.”Archibald Alexander, Thoughts on Religious Experience (Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1844), 46. We observe this all around us every day; unregenerate people clearly experience guilt for some but not all of their actions, and that ability to differentiate demonstrates the reality of a conscience at work.

And yet, while the conscience remains after the Fall, apart from the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, it cannot bring salvation or real growth in godliness. As Alexander goes on to say, “There is nothing in this kind of conviction which has any tendency to change the heart or to make it better.”Alexander, Thoughts on Religious Experience, 47. Moreover, while the conscience is still present in the unregenerate, it is prone to sometimes grievous malfunctioning, not only failing to differentiate right from wrong, but actually reversing moral categories outright: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil” (Isa. 5:20).

The first and most significant step for calibrating the conscience, then, is to receive the blessing of enlightenment that only the Spirit of God can bring. When Paul describes his conversion and commission in Acts 26, he recounts the Lord Jesus sending him to the Gentiles “to open their eyes, so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God” (Acts 26:18). This spiritual opening of the eyes through conversion is the sine qua non of conscience calibration, and thus, a minister’s first step towards helping people along this road is to make sure that he is regularly preaching towards conversion, clearly presenting the gospel, and communicating that apart from new birth in Christ all moralistic attempts to calibrate the conscience will fail.

2. The Conscience Is Rightly Calibrated Primarily Through Immersion in God’s Word

If the Christian life is one long attempt to calibrate our consciences, such that we are approving what God approves and disapproving that which he does not, then clearly the key factor will be steady exposure to and meditation on God’s will and ways. And the only place where we can learn about God like this is in Scripture.

Indeed, Psalm 119 can be read as an extended meditation on conscience-calibration through such continual engagement with God’s special revelation:

Blessed are those who keep his testimonies,
who seek him with their whole heart. (Ps. 119:2)

Here at the outset, we see that the psalmist prizes a well-informed obedience that flows out of a renewed heart, a heart that increasingly mirrors God’s own in its judgments and desires. Then, as the psalm unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear that the God-given means for achieving this sanctified synchronization is to meditate on God’s own self-revelation:

I will praise you with an upright heart,
when I learn your righteous rules. (Ps. 119:7)

Note that learning God’s “righteous rules” is connected not just with obedience but with real praise that flows from “an upright heart.” That is the mark of a correctly calibrated conscience—a growing delight in approving and disapproving in accord with God’s own judgments:

How sweet are your words to my taste,
sweeter than honey to my mouth!
Through your precepts I get understanding;
therefore I hate every false way. (Ps. 119:103–104)

Here, as elsewhere, meditation on divine precepts yields a deeper understanding of God’s ways and a corresponding love of them. If our minds are not steeped in Scripture, they will be steeped in whatever our pop culture happens to offer on any given day, and the result will be a conscience calibrated according to the rhythms of the world, a movement that runs precisely contrary to Paul’s summons in Romans 12:2.

Practically speaking, then, believers must intentionally cultivate a Word-based piety characterized by hearing from God in Scripture, meditating on what has been heard, and praying God’s promises back to him. Such constant immersion is critical because the circumstances and challenges of life in a fallen world are too varied and multifaceted to be anticipated in advance. We need minds and hearts so saturated with Scripture that we reflexively think and feel in God-honoring ways. In other words, we need rightly calibrated consciences.

Pastors have a special responsibility to both encourage their people to be in the Word and to model it for them Sunday by Sunday. Services centered around and saturated with Scripture will both serve as a means of corporate conscience-calibration in the moment and as a way of showing people what it looks like to think biblically on the very sorts of difficult issues that most require a fine-tuned conscience.

3. A Right Calibration of the Christian Conscience Will Be Greatly Helped Through Fellowship with God’s People and Greatly Hindered by Neglecting It

One of the most interesting aspects of the conscience is its susceptibility to the influence of other people, whether for good or for ill. In Romans 1, after explaining that fallen humanity willfully breaks God’s moral law despite knowing better, Paul highlights this corporate aspect of conscience-calibration by noting that sinners also “give approval to those who” commit similar sins (Rom. 1:32). What is it about our fallen hearts that causes us not only to sin but to actively cheer on others as they pursue sin themselves? In large part, this tendency reflects an intensification of the basic orientation of fallen humanity, “who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth” (Rom. 1:18). In rebellion against God, we suppress the truth about the wrongness of our own actions, thus deadening the conscience and relieving the burden of guilt. By encouraging others to join us in sin and celebrating when they do so, we engage in this same dynamic on a corporate scale and multiply its conscience-searing effects.

But thankfully, among the redeemed, this same corporate movement of hearts can work in a positive direction. Scripture urges God’s people to “exhort one another every day,” so “that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin” (Heb. 3:13). This is precisely the opposite of the sinful dynamic Paul describes in Romans 1:32, and it highlights the role that the church plays in calibrating the Christian conscience. Sometimes the exhortations and example of others can cut through a deadened conscience and draw us back toward godliness.

Pastors must pay special attention to this, as the inherent power of community to mold individual attitudes regarding moral issues will always be operative. The question is whether that power will be harnessed toward God-honoring or destructive ends. We’ve all seen congregations where the collective conscience has been miscalibrated. Sometimes, this involves promoting third-order wisdom questions to first-order imperatives—think of a church context where homeschooling becomes the de facto norm and an unstated expectation. At other times, this same group power can foster a culture of license around a particular issue—think of a church context in which overindulging in alcohol is winked at. Our communities will shape our consciences, and thus, pastors should both encourage meaningful church membership and be intentional about building a healthy culture in which conscience issues are treated with care and biblical nuance.

4. The Christian Conscience Will Be Rightly Calibrated Through Intentional and Steady Self-Examination

Though originally intended for Timothy in his pastoral work, Paul’s exhortation to “keep a close watch on yourself” (1 Tim. 4:16) applies to every believer who wishes to rightly calibrate the conscience. This is because calibration requires both listening to one’s conscience and then prayerfully correlating its judgments with what we find in Scripture. There is thus a reciprocal relationship between self-examination and biblical meditation. Through self-reflection, I call to mind the particulars of my conduct and give space for my conscience to comment on what it finds. And yet it’sultimately in God’s Word that I find the standard against which such inner self-judgments are to be measured. Without meditating on Scripture, my conscience is liable to drift, and yet without careful consideration of my life’s particulars, my Bible reading can detach from the circumstances into which God has placed me. This is why Puritan authors like Henry Scudder (d. 1659) insisted that “you should . . . be well read in the book of your conscience, as well as in the Bible.”Henry Scudder, The Christian’s Daily Walk (Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1800), 106. Each reinforces the other, and the synergy between the two serves as a key engine for calibrating the conscience.

For pastors, the sermon provides an opportunity to prompt and model self-examination from the pulpit. Effective application digs into the particularities of life in a fallen world, both illustrating the kinds of questions we should be asking ourselves in private and serving as an on-the-spot diagnostic for our hearers. The English Puritans were especially good at this, as illustrated by Joseph Alleine (1634–1688):

Be exhorted, O man, to examine yourself. What does your conscience say? Does it accuse? Does it pierce you as you go? . . . Does your conscience carry you to your closet and tell you how seldom prayer and reading are performed there? Does it carry you to your family . . . ? Does your conscience lead you to your shop, your trade, and tell you of some iniquity there? . . . O conscience! . . . Rouse yourself, and do your work. Now let the preacher in your bosom speak.Joseph Alleine, A Sure Guide to Heaven (Banner of Truth Trust, 1995), 48–49.

Calibrating the conscience, whether our own or that of our hearers, is not easy work. But it’s the essential work to which ministers of the Word are called, their “daily business” and deepest privilege. Through our preaching, teaching, and shepherding, we have an opportunity to help believers better understand what the conscience is and how it can be rightly calibrated for God’s glory and our good.

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Think for a moment about your outward appearance. How is your hair looking today? Are those Pilates classes paying off? Did you remember to take all the tags off the new shirt you are wearing? Is there something stuck in your teeth? These questions are hard to answer because most of the time we cannot see most of our physical selves, and so we often must solicit the input of a trusted friend. But even then, we all know that a friend’s input can be of limited value. Perhaps they didn’t take the time to look all that carefully, or they themselves are color-blind, or maybe they just said what they thought we wanted to hear so that our feelings wouldn’t be hurt. This is why we have mirrors in our world, so that we can look at ourselves and make corrections as necessary.

Scripture depicts humanity as a race of people who are under the reign of sin and death (Rom. 5:12–14) and whose hearts are deceived (Jer. 17:9). As it is with our physical appearance, so it is with our spiritual condition—we often do not walk around with an accurate picture of ourselves. This means that growth in godliness will require some input from outside of us. Like a good friend telling us that we are not, in fact, “pulling off” that new hairstyle, other people in our lives can often see things about us that we cannot perceive on our own. It is for this reason that the Bible encourages those who desire wisdom to encourage input and even rebuke from others (e.g., Prov. 13:18, 27:6).

But even our closest friends and keenest observers can only know so much about us, and so our understanding of ourselves cannot be totally dependent on outsiders’ perspectives. After all, others can only know what we tell them and what they see in public; they have no access (unless we give it to them) to some of the unattractive things that go on deep down in our hearts—our anger, fears, doubts, and temptations. They cannot see the ways that we have (often unknowingly) ordered our inner lives to make room for attitudes and behaviors that we do not wish to acknowledge or change.

Thus, it is no surprise that the Bible commends not only soliciting input from others in the church, but also the practice of introspection or self-examination. Believers are encouraged to keep their hearts “with all vigilance” (Prov. 4:23), which seems to demand at the very least careful attention to what is going on within them. Paul told Timothy that faithfulness would require him to “keep a close watch” on himself (1 Tim. 4:16), and he warned the Ephesian elders to “pay careful attention” not only to the flock, but to themselves (Acts 20:28). In light of these commands, Christians have long engaged in the practice of intently “looking in the mirror,” searching their hearts before God in light of the teachings of Scripture.

In 1962, J.I. Packer mourned the decline of introspection in the church, writing that believers in his day “constantly give evidence of our neglect of this secret discipline by unprincipled and irresponsible public conduct.”JI Packer, A Quest for Godliness (Crossway, 1990), page 108. I’d contend that the situation today is even worse. Ours is an age that does not encourage followers of Christ to engage in a careful examination of the state of their souls. After all, introspection involves patient attention and a willingness to participate in (sometimes) brutally honest self-criticism. We have been discipled by our entertainment culture to shy away from practices that confer their best gifts in response to steadfast effort over an extended period of time. Our instincts have been formed by popular psychology so that we are suspicious of any exercise that would suggest that there is something wrong with us “below the surface.” We are slow to believe that the bad habits, unkind words, and foul moods—and all the things that we would like to change about ourselves—are not the result of how we have been shaped and victimized by forces outside of us, but find their source in our hearts. As Packer noted, this neglect of self-examination is made evident in our lack of private and public holiness.

Lessons for Pastors 

If pastors are to help their congregations recover a healthy practice of introspection, there may be no better guides than the Puritans. They aimed to pursue self-knowledge in their personal devotional life, and their pastors sought to encourage the practice through their public ministry. John Owen wrote the following about the need for self-examination:

Many people live in the dark to themselves all their days; whatever else they know, they know not themselves. They know their outward estates, how rich they are, and the condition of their bodies as to health and sickness they are careful to examine; but as to their inward being, and their principles as to God and eternity, they know little of nothing of themselves as they ought, or are acquainted with the evils of their own hearts as they ought. Yet the whole course of their obedience, and consequently of their eternal condition, depends on this. This, therefore, is our wisdom; and it is a needful wisdom if we have any design to please God, or to avoid that which is a provocation of his glory.John Owen, Overcoming Sin and Temptation: Three Classic Works by John Owen. Edited by Kelly M Kapic and Justin Taylor (Crossway, 2006), pages 238-9.

Much of historical memory has saddled the Puritans with a reputation for sin-sniffing and hypervigilance that probably reflects more about how dull the church in our day has become when it comes to matters of the conscience. The Puritan sensitivity to the deceitfulness of sin and the danger of a neglected conscience is almost certainly closer to what we see modeled for believers in Scripture than the self-acceptance and self-esteem that flourishes in many churches in our day.

With that said, here are three aspects of the Puritan approach to the duty of introspection that can help us:

1. Introspection Must Be Guided by Scripture 

Scripture serves as the rails upon which helpful self-examination can progress. Under normal circumstances, our conscience is a gift of God, serving as his lieutenant in the human soul. But in this fallen world, even such a good gift operates under the weakening effects of sin, and so believers must be wary of the tyranny of a poorly calibrated conscience. Much of pastoral ministry is spent dealing with believers whose consciences are either too sensitive (and thus constantly plaguing them with guilt and shame) or not nearly sensitive enough (thus making room for behaviors that shouldn’t be tolerated).

Thus, for the Puritans, only the Word of God could serve as the final authority in all matters. Richard Baxter wrote,

Make not your own judgments or consciences your law, or the maker of your duty; which is but the discerner of the law of God, and of the duty which he maketh you, and of your own obedience or disobedience to him. There is a dangerous error grown too common in the world, that a man is bound to do every thing which his conscience telleth him is the will of God; that every man must obey his conscience, as if it were the lawgiver of the world; whereas, indeed, it is not ourselves, but God, that is our lawgiver. And conscience is . . . appointed . . . only to discern the law of God, and call upon us to observe it: and an erring conscience is not to be obeyed, but to be better informed.Quote in Packer, pp. 112-113.

2. Introspection Doesn’t Just Set Us Hunting for Sin 

When we think of careful self-examination in the Puritan tradition, we tend to think of time spent examining one’s attitudes and actions for signs of sin or moral compromise. And while that is a significant part of the work (because we tend to be most blind toward our failings), there are also works of grace that may be going on below the surface in a believer’s heart. It is hardly humble to fail to recognize the work of the Holy Spirit within us and give him the praise that he is due. After all, Paul’s oft-quoted instruction to the Corinthians that they ought to examine themselves to see if they are in the faith (2 Cor. 13:5) anticipates that the conclusion will be that, in fact, they are. As Richard Sibbes reminds us, “We must have two eyes, one to see imperfections in ourselves and others, the other to see what is good.”Richard Sibbes, The Bruised Reed (Banner of Truth, 2021), p. 35.

3. Pastoral Ministry Can and Should Encourage Godly Introspection 

The high value that the Puritans placed on self-examination led them to be masters of application in their preaching. They knew that gospel propositions left sitting on the surface of the heart rarely bore good fruit, and so it was the job of the preacher to plant the truth deep down into the soil of their hearts through application. This, it seems to me, is the great labor of preaching. Understanding the message and grammar of a text may take some time, but it is normally not a monumental feat. But it is quite a task to proclaim the truth of a text to one’s hearers in such a way as to drive them to apply it to their own hearts, so that the text strikes them as God speaking to them, driving them to examine their beliefs and loves and conduct in light of it.

In conclusion, I would suggest two things to pastors looking to encourage the discipline of healthy introspection in their congregations. The first would be to give specific instructions to self-examination as part of your sermon application. Instead of saying simply, “God’s people should be patient,” try something like,

Christian, how do you lack patience? How can you more fully appreciate God’s patience with you, so that you might grow in patience toward others? Take time this week to prayerfully examine your life and ask the Holy Spirit to help you identify a few times when you’ve been sinfully impatient. Confess that sin and ask the Spirit to help you change. Do that each day this week and see what the Lord shows you.

This leads to the other thing that a pastor should do, which is to practice healthy self-examination in his own private devotional life. Our preaching will not drive people to deep examination if we are content to remain at a surface level in our dealings with our own hearts. Packer summarizes the matter with characteristic clarity,

Whence comes the skill to apply God’s truth appropriately in preaching? From the experience of having God apply his truth powerfully to oneself. Ordinarily, said the Puritans, it is those whose own consciences are more deeply exercised by God’s truth who have the most power to awaken the consciences of others by prudent and piercing applications.Packer, 117.

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Sean DeMars, Redemption Song: A Primer on Singing for the People of God. Christian Focus, 2025. 96 pages.

How many books on congregational singing can you think of right now? Five max?

Sean DeMars’s Redemption Song fills a gap for pastors and song leaders by providing a brief exposition of Exodus 15, in which he finds “a description of and prescription for corporate worship that has much to say to the modern church” (11).

Eleven Lessons 

DeMars shares eleven insights that this Old Covenant song teaches Christ’s New Covenant people about corporate worship.

First, God’s people sing (17). It is not their duty, but their privilege. The benefits of singing include the engagement of the intellect, imagination, and memory (20).

Second, God’s people sing in response. A good pocket-sized definition of worship is “the right response to the grace of God” (27). Worship is not a work that merits grace.

Third, God’s people sing together. DeMars points out that the Psalms use plural pronouns 346 times (34). However, one ought not equate the personal language of the Psalms with merely private practices. Some Psalms, after all, are both corporate and personal, as are some of our favorite hymns (see “It Is Well with My Soul”) (52).

Fourth, God’s people sing to God, about God. DeMars pushes back against worship services that “spend a great deal of time singing praises to themselves instead of God” (39).

Fifth, God’s people sing the truth. It does not honor God to sing false things about him. DeMars cites the chorus to Cory Asbury’s famous song “Reckless Love”: “Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God.” Why sing songs like this, DeMars asks, when there’s “an embarrassment of riches available to us when it comes to maximally God-glorifying music?” (44). Further, you don’t want your members teaching false things about God, much less singing them.

Sixth, God’s people sing the whole counsel of God. DeMars shows the breadth of emotions in the Psalms. Pastors and song leaders, how does your song bank compare? Do your songs reflect the emotional diversity of the songs we find in Scripture?

Seventh, God’s people sing history. “The Song of Moses teaches us that we must not forget the saints who came before us” (52). Sing songs that are five years old, five hundred years old, and five thousand years old (52).

Eighth, God’s people sing with a leader. Moses probably did not know music theory, nor is there evidence that he had a great voice, but he still led the people, and they followed joyfully. Likewise, Miriam led a song with a tambourine, and “all the women went out after her” (Exod. 15:20–21). Singing from the front is an opportunity to lead your people in their singing.

Ninth, God’s people sing to bear witness. DeMars describes the Song of Moses as a testimony set to music (61), and unlike some testimony songs today that are more generic in nature, Exodus 15 refers to an actual event in redemptive history.

Tenth, God’s people sing in wonder. This wonder comes from considering the magnitude of God’s redemption. Our singing often fails to reflect that magnitude, yet DeMars doesn’t shame readers. Instead, he instructs us to meditate on the gospel and “get back to singing to God with your whole heart” (66).

Lastly, God’s people sing with joy. DeMars helps us understand that we can sing with joy because we’ve been delivered like the Israelites. This chapter could be nuanced by a one-line concession that saints can be sorrowful yet always rejoicing (2 Cor. 6:10). At the same time, joy is rooted in the unchanging nature of the gospel.

The Regulative Principle 

The book has two appendices, one on the regulative principle and another on case studies exemplifying its flexibility. I appreciate that DeMars doesn’t enter into scholarly debates on the regulative principle but instead focuses on helping readers understand that God’s Word has something to say about the way we worship him. The Bible gives us rules about worship, not to take away from our worship experience but to “help facilitate strong, healthy, vibrant worship” (76).

The second appendix puts flesh on the bones of the regulative principle discussion. It speaks to many concerns pastors and song leaders have about the specifics of a service.

Food for Thought 

Redemption Song will help you reflect on and teach about Exodus 15 and its relationship to congregational singing. You’ll also get fresh considerations on the regulative principle. Finally, its brevity makes it more digestible than most books on congregational singing.

One unique aspect of this book is that it’s an exposition of an Old Testament text applied to corporate worship today, whereas some adherents to the regulative principle base their worship solely on explicit New Testament commands. Perhaps we should ask ourselves what other components of Old Testament worship could inform our corporate gatherings.

The post How Can Exodus 15 Help God’s People Sing Today? appeared first on 9Marks.

If you’ve ever worked in an office, you’ve probably heard of “Take Your Child to Work Day.” On this occasion, parents bring their son or daughter to the workplace to see what Dad or Mom do for a living. It’s a refreshing and sweet distraction from the day’s activities.

“Take Your Child to Work Day” also reinforces a basic notion—the office is no place for a child. Not only do children have limited ability to understand the activities of an adult workplace, but they also pose a threat of distracting adults from their main objective at the office: to work.

When it comes to our children, I fear many of us are tempted to view corporate worship like the workplace. From our children’s perspective, it’s possible for them to take interest in aspects of a Sunday gathering, but ultimately, it’s not for them. From the parents’ perspective, children—especially very young children—pose an impediment to adults engaging in the worship service. Though I see legitimacy in these perspectives, it’s important to affirm that corporate worship is not like the workplace. Rather, corporate worship is, in fact, for children. The goal of this article is to present a rationale for why churches should joyfully welcome children, even little children, into their main Sunday gatherings.

Why Children Should Be Welcome in Corporate Worship 

 At my church, though we provide childcare for kids aged three and under, we expect those four and older to join their parents in our main service. Some parents choose to bring their kids into the service at younger ages. There’s a lot of freedom here. We also acknowledge that many healthy churches will have different sensibilities on this issue. Some churches don’t offer childcare, thinking all children, infants included, must be in the service. This is not my view. Meanwhile, it has become especially common for many churches to offer “age-appropriate” instruction for kids as old as eleven or twelve. Though these churches vary in the quality of such programs and are usually well-intentioned, I would like to gently encourage them to lower the age. The rest of this article will share some biblical and philosophical arguments for my perspective and then some closing applications.

The Bible Normalizes Children in Gathered Worship 

In the Old Testament, we’re frequently told of the involvement of children in corporate worship. We’re told “little ones” heard Joshua read the whole Law of Moses in the assembly of God’s people (Josh. 8:34–35). “Little ones” and “children” stood with their parents to hear the Word of God in 2 Chronicles 20. Young ones heard prophecy and confession of sin in the assembly in Ezra 10. In Deuteronomy 31, we see all Israel was expected to gather for the Feast of Booths:

Assemble the people, men, women, and little ones, and the sojourner within your towns, that they may hear and learn to fear the Lord your God, and be careful to do all the words of this law, and that their children, who have not known it, may hear and learn to fear the Lord your God, as long as you live in the land that you are going over the Jordan to possess. (Deut. 31:12–13, emphasis added)

As an interesting wrinkle to this pattern, when Ezra read the Law before the assembly in Nehemiah 8, he read to “both men and women and all who could understand.” Who could understand is unclear, but it’s reasonable to assume that this group excluded infants. Regardless, the Old Testament presents a rather vivid portrait of corporate worship as an environment that included children, even very young children.

The New Testament doesn’t seem to present a contrary picture. First, the Lord Jesus dignified children throughout his earthly ministry. Children were present when he fed the multitudes, the only miracle recorded in all four Gospels. The same children were present for the instruction that followed these feedings. Jesus used a child as a breathtaking illustration for trust in God (Matt. 18:1–4). He memorably charged his disciples, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 19:14). Though these examples are not in the context of gathered worship, they all occurred in the context of multi-generational ministry and discipleship.

For our purposes, Paul’s epistles might be the most instructive on this point. In Ephesians and Colossians, Paul addresses children directly: “Children, obey your parents in everything for this pleases the Lord” (Col. 3:20). Paul expects children to be present in the gatherings of these local churches as his letters were read. Further, given a first-century context where teenagers were generally viewed as adults, Paul would have likely had children twelve and under in mind. Clearly, the Bible normalizes the presence of children in corporate church gatherings.

Corporate Worship Should Be Multigenerational 

The inclusion of children in corporate worship is a part of a broader view of the local church: namely, it is to comprise a variety of generations and backgrounds. One of the problems with churches that overemphasize “age-and-stage” programs is that such ministries tend to divide the local church into disparate silos. A robust “children’s church” program, 9 a.m. traditional services, and 11 a.m. contemporary services tell the world that Christians unite around styles of worship rather than the object of worship. Age-and-stage programs certainly have their place in the life of most churches, but when they literally divide a congregation in the essential feature of its life (the main Sunday gathering), they damage a church’s witness.

The local church is where young and old thrive together as they share in the filling of the Spirit (Eph. 5:18–21). The apostle John exhorted both young men and fathers at the same time, acknowledging their respective strengths to benefit the whole body (1 John 2). The apostle Paul charged older women to teach younger women how to love their husbands and children (Titus 2). The Bible’s blueprint for the life of the local church––both gathered and scattered––is profoundly multigenerational. When we bar children from our gatherings, we imply that the church is not united in worship, nor is it for children.

Children Should See Their Parents Worship God  

The greatest charge given to parents is to raise their children in the fear and instruction of the Lord. One of the too often neglected means of accomplishing this task is children seeing Mom and Dad heartily entering into the gathered worship of God’s people. Children learn something about the Lord by how their parents listen to sermons, recite creeds, join in corporate prayer, and sing God’s praises. To put a finer point on this, children will discern what their parents believe by what they sing on Sunday, but they’ll learn if their parents believe by how they sing on Sunday. Authentic Christian worship is one of the most strategic tools of evangelism in our gatherings, especially when it comes to our children.

“Children’s Church” Programs Can Have Major Liabilities 

Historically speaking, the concept of “children’s church” as an “age-appropriate” alternative for a church’s main gathering is an invention of the twentieth century. Though well-intentioned, programs that separate children from the local gathering for years on end are fraught with problems. First, it’s a ministry that requires significant volunteer resources. It usually requires many adults to regularly give up time in the main gathering. Ordinarily, a strong children’s church program can only be sustained by a medium-sized or large church. This reinforces a cycle of commodifying the ministry of the church. We train people to come to church for the amenities of non-essential ministries. Over time, Christians shop for churches that will provide these amenities. Smaller churches then feel the need to develop fancy programs to attract people rather than emphasizing the ordinary means of grace. This vicious cycle has played on repeat for over a half-century in the wake of the church growth movement.

Second, children’s church has contributed to the juvenilization of churches. The instinct that divides the local church in favor of a ministry that children will find readily accessible and entertaining is the same impulse that often silos older students from the church’s life as well. As children age, parents think they need a youth ministry with peppier music and entertaining teaching to reach their kids. The trend shows that such kids, if converted, are won over to a more performative-based ministry. So what happens next? They seek out similar ministries when they go to college. On into adulthood, if they look for a local church, they usually try to find one that is high production and youth-oriented. This pattern has undoubtedly contributed to the watering down of so many local churches. Sadly, some evangelical churches feel more like a stage show followed by a self-help talk than anything rooted in a historical tradition. The fact that churches feel more like youth camps than a historically rooted faith community is downstream from a programmatic instinct that insists on age-tailored ministry. This has not redounded to the greater maturity of the church at large.

Application 

Though we think it’s wonderful to have children in our services, it is certainly not without challenges. Because of this, I want to close with some reflections on frequently asked questions and concerns.

“Won’t My Child Find It Difficult to Understand Everything in the Main Gathering?”  

Probably. However, the goal of a Christian worship service is not the total comprehension of all in attendance. In other words, it’s okay if children don’t understand everything. I encourage parents to highlight to their kids what they can understand. When we sing “Jesus, What a Friend of Sinners,” talk to them about what true friendship is. After taking the Lord’s Supper, explain the drama of the gospel displayed in the ordinance. When the preacher is explaining the basic elements of the gospel in a sermon, give a friendly elbow to your nine-year-old to lean in. Some parents challenge their children by giving them a list of words to listen out for in a sermon (“cross,” “gospel,” “Father,” “sacrifice,” “sin,” etc.). If their child checks off every word, they get a reward. Regardless of how you help your child understand the gathering, they will inevitably understand with greater depth the grandeur of Christian worship.

“Won’t My Child Find Corporate Worship Boring?” 

More than likely. They probably think many things that are good for them are boring––like chores and broccoli. It’s okay if children don’t find corporate worship readily entertaining. Frankly, many adults don’t find church gatherings entertaining. Thankfully, our chief aim in worship is not to be entertained; it’s to be edified to the glory of God. The Christian’s call in worship is to encounter God through the ordinary means of grace. We preach the Word, pray the Word, read the Word, sing the Word, and see the Word. Through all these means, the Word of Christ dwells in us richly. To the soul well-attuned to God’s will, corporate worship will be exhilarating. Of course, we don’t pursue experiences, we pursue God, and experiences inevitably follow. For this reason, I challenge parents to consider their physical and emotional posture in corporate worship. I’m not saying a Christian must raise his hands or emote in any way that’s inconsistent with his or her personality. But whatever one’s mode of showing reverence, awe, or excitement is, it ought to be manifested in public worship. Children will remember what excited their parents and moved their souls. Every church service is an opportunity for parents to inform the moral intuitions and shape the affections of their children.

“Won’t My Child Be a Distraction to Me or Others in the Service?” 

 Possibly. But the local church is a family at the end of the day. I often exhort the church members to endeavor not to be a distraction and endeavor not to be distracted. Though we want to remove distractions from our gatherings as much as possible, they are inevitable and when they occur, we extend grace. If you’re a parent who’s deep in the trenches of pew-training, be encouraged that this is a season that will soon pass. Each Sunday is an opportunity to invest in the long-term spiritual health of your child.

“Should I Care about This If I Don’t Have Children?” 

 Absolutely. Part of a local church’s responsibility is not merely to equip parents to disciple their children, but also to display a community of blood-bought saints who have been changed by the power of the gospel. Belonging to the family of God engenders a spiritual interest not only in one’s own biological children but all the children of his or her church family. This means if you’re a member of a local church, each Lord’s Day is an opportunity to evangelize and disciple the children in your gathering. You share a stewardship to help their parents train them for service in the kingdom of Christ and the enjoyment of heaven.

Conclusion  

Only the eternal ages of the New Heavens and New Earth will be able to quantify God’s marvelous grace accomplished through corporate worship. Which of us can tell what God is doing through every sermon, every song, every prayer, every confession of sin, every recitation of a creed, every celebration of the Lord’s Supper? God is doing great things through gathered worship, and children should be there as witnesses.

The post “Let the Little Children Come”: A Brief Case for Welcoming Children into Corporate Worship appeared first on 9Marks.

Let’s say that Phil and Alice Jones, a young couple, come to you asking for advice on schooling their children. They’re sorting through options: public, secular private, Christian private, full-time homeschool, and a homeschool co-op. They’re bewildered by so many choices, and they’re not sure what’s the best fit for their growing family. So, you sit down with Phil and Alice, ask a lot of questions, sort through their conscience convictions, and then advise them as best you can. That’s a typical part of your private ministry of the Word—teaching church members how to wisely sort through conscience convictions and apply Scripture to their situation.

It turns out there are a lot of families in your congregation with preschool children who wrestle with similar questions. You talk this over with your elders. The elders feel like hosting a panel that represents the different schooling options would be helpful for your church. They also encourage you, their senior pastor, to preach on the conscience from Romans 14:1–15:7. That’s a normal part of your public ministry of the Word—teaching and preaching to edify and instruct your members on God’s perspective.

When most Christians (and many pastors!) sort through these conscience differences, they often assume moral neutrality. Christians believe that so long as there isn’t a Bible verse explicitly condemning a specific action, then that must mean that it’s morally solid. Now it’s true that my church members have freedom in Christ to choose from a range of schooling options—public, private, homeschool—so long as they don’t have bad motives in their choice. The apostle Paul tells us: “Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind” (Romans 14:5).

But is that all there is to it? Not at all.

Here’s my assertion—not all options are morally equal simply because they are morally acceptable. What’s more, pastors have a responsibility to teach moral reasoning to their congregation in both their public and private ministry of the Word, though each of these ministries will likely look a little different. More on that in a minute. First, let me try and prove the assertion.

An Example of a Morally Significant Conscience Decision 

Phil and Alice let you know they’ve looked at all the schooling options. They like homeschooling a lot because it offers significant time for discipling their children. That’s attractive to them, but they’re not sure if Alice has the organizational skills to pull it off. They’re also very evangelistic and eager to see their children be a gospel witness in the secular public schools. They know there are challenges, but they feel like the risks are outweighed by the benefits. They inform you that they’ve sorted through their schooling options and plan to enroll their daughter in public school in the fall semester. At first glance, this seems like a fine decision for them to make.

However, you decide to investigate it further since you don’t live in the same neighborhood and don’t know their public schools. You ask Charlie, a longtime deacon, who lives a few blocks from Alice and Phil. He’s immediately alarmed. You can see concern written all over his face. “What? They’re going to put their kid in that school?” he says. His shock and tone have got your attention, so you ask him to explain why he’s so disturbed by Alice and Phil’s decision.

Here’s what he tells you: “The public school in our community is one of the most liberal in the country. They’re pro-LGBTQ and very aggressive about teaching this agenda in the classroom. Alice and Phil’s children will get extensive exposure and be brainwashed in this kind of environment.”

You are now more concerned. But you ask, “Can’t parents just opt their kids out of this teaching?”

Charlie shakes his head. “No, they’ve passed rules on the school board that strip all rights from parents. So, if Alice and Phil’s daughter Shirley starts to question her gender, the school won’t tell the parents. They’ll encourage Shirley to pursue a gender change if she expresses a desire. They won’t involve the parents. If the parents oppose it, the school will contact Child Protective Services.”

You now understand Charlie’s alarm. You’ve got no choice. To shepherd well (1 Pet. 5:2–3), you should talk to Alice and Phil and help them see the moral freight attached to the decision to put their children in this school system. Can you explicitly say that it would be sin for them to do it anyway? Maybe, maybe not. At the very least you can say that it would be very unwise, bordering on reckless, for them to take this path.Lest you think that I’m opposed to public schools, I could come up with scenarios in homeschooling and private Christian school that would also be unwise and bordering on sin. No option is excluded from this moral weight category, depending on the circumstances. 

You see, saying that a decision is acceptable is not the same as saying that two acceptable decisions are morally equal in value. This is the case for at least two reasons. First, different options in any given conscience issue may come with different gradations of moral clarity. Our ability to discern the good from the bad is not always a black-and-white game. Sometimes we aren’t 100% sure, but one decision does seem to be better than another when we bring various biblical principles to bear on it. Pastor, you need to teach your people how to collate principles from Scripture that can help them weigh their options on a scale and then choose what is best.

Second, even if one decision seems to be equal to another, morally speaking, there is a second scale that we need to consider—the wisdom-foolishness scale. So you can do A or B and probably not be sinning in either case. But A seems to be the wiser of the two options for reasons one, two, and three. As a pastor, you need to be able to share why wisdom leans one way and not the other. Sure, the person is free to do either, but that doesn’t mean they should do either. Sometimes your counsel will be the difference between a wise option and a suboptimal, borderline foolish option.

The need to help members reason morally through various conscience issues is just one way in which pastoring is tough business.

The Private Ministry of the Word for Phil and Alice 

Let’s now consider how helping members privately takes a slightly different shape from instructing the entire congregation behind the pulpit.

Back to Phil and Alice for a second. After talking to Charlie, my next step is to sit down with Phil and Alice and talk to them about their decision to send Shirley to the public schools in their community. I text them and we arrange a face-to-face meeting.

Whereas preaching and teaching casts a large, generalized net because you face a large audience, the private ministry of the Word ministers to specific persons with specific circumstances and specific conscience convictions.

• As Phil and Alice’s pastor, I state my personal opinion for them while they sit on the couch in my office. I let them know what Charlie told me about their local public school and express my concern about their choice.

• Because of the specific details I now know about their public school, I can work out the nuances and implications for their situation. “While you may be free to choose this school for your children, I fear that you will be in danger of disobeying one of your chief responsibilities as parents—teaching your children to know God (Deut. 6:6–7; Prov. 22:6).”

• I can press into their specific situation and help them to recalibrate their consciences if needed. “You might reconsider given the school’s progressive ideology whether this is a good thing for your daughter. You’ve got a responsibility to educate her, but you also must protect her from lies as the school attempts to brainwash and confuse her. Does this lead you to reconsider your choice?”

• I can warn them what the consequences of their decision might be in order to help them make the right one. “If your daughter becomes convinced that she’s a boy or adopts a favorable attitude toward LGBTQ issues, it will put you at odds with her as her parent. It will be a long and hard road. How does that make you think about this decision?”

My conversation is meant to help them see the moral freight of this weighty decision. I think it’s unwise and potentially sinful to send their child to an aggressively pro-LGBTQ public school like the one Charlie described. It’s my responsibility to counsel them as best as I can based on God’s Word. That said, I don’t have the authority to make them do what I say, and I can’t go so far as to say that going with the public school is obviously sinful. At the end of the day, Phil and Alice must choose for their daughter and live with the consequences of their decision.

Be warned, pastor. If you start trying to force people to agree with you on these conscience issues—even those issues where you think one option is morally superior to another but you can’t say one is definitely sin—you’re flirting with authoritarianism. Share with your people your reasoning from God’s Word. Challenge them with the truth. But stop short of trying to make them do as you say.

My Public Ministry of the Word for the Entire Congregation 

Okay, so I can go pretty far in the counseling room with Phil and Alice. I think, given the details of their situation, I can basically say, “I wouldn’t recommend sending your kids to that school. It seems unwise at best and potentially sinful to do so.” Does this mean that I should stand in the pulpit and say to my congregation, “Don’t send your children to public school! To do so would be unwise at best and potentially sinful?” Uh, no, not quite. Here are a few reasons why speaking so directly would be a bad idea.

First, in the absence of explicit biblical teaching, you must be careful not to push your people to conclusions—even right conclusions!—before you teach them how to work those conclusions out based on various biblical texts and their application to our context. Fourth-grade math teachers don’t hand their students calculators before they’ve first taught them to do basic addition, subtraction, division, and multiplication. Similarly, you shouldn’t skip over the process of moral reasoning to quickly arrive at your conclusion. A habit of going straight for the right answer may lead people to assume that it’s your word they must follow rather than God’s.

Second, the Bible doesn’t condemn public school full stop. In the case of Phil and Alice, the problem was with their specific school district. I may have other members who have a much better school district. They may choose to send their kids there for evangelism reasons and that be morally right and wise.

Lastly, the Bible doesn’t hold out a specific form for how parents should educate their children. Let’s say that I do condemn public school full stop (I don’t and wouldn’t but keep going with the hypothetical). What do I then tell parents they must do with their children? The Bible doesn’t tell us private school is morally superior to or wiser than homeschooling! I must be careful not to prohibit what the Bible doesn’t because doing so may mean then having to require what the Bible doesn’t. One wrong begets another.

So there I am in my pulpit preaching on Romans 14–15. This section of Scripture clearly provides guidelines on conscience differences and prioritizes love. In my sermon, I’ll explain how the apostle Paul teaches us to navigate differences between believers charitably. I’ll instruct members on differences between strong and weak consciences and apply those to contemporary situations. I may even hold out specific case studies or examples and show the congregation how the moral math recommends one decision over another. But I stop short of drawing a universal that the text doesn’t commend.

After church, we host a panel on the different schooling options. (The schooling question is just one example of how to sort through differences between consciences, but it’s the area where my congregation needs help!) If I’m standing in front of a room full of parents, what should be typical of my teaching and instruction in this public setting?

• I must show consideration to those who have a conscience conviction: “You might feel convicted that homeschooling is a good fit for your family and struggle with public or private schooling options.”

• I should instruct and recalibrate more restricted consciences to show charity to those with a stronger conscience. “You might feel personally convinced that homeschooling is the best option because of how much time it gives you to disciple your children. But that doesn’t mean it is necessarily the best option for every family in the church.”

• I should teach the strong and weak consciences to show charity to one another. “Whatever schooling option you choose, you want to respect the conscience choices of other members. Christ gives us freedom to choose differently.”

• I should reflect the freedom of conscience that Scripture affords: “As a believer, you have freedom to choose any schooling situation that fits your family.”

• But I must be willing to trace out the moral parameters entangled with different options. Not all choices are morally equal. “Some of you might consider public schools in the Cheverly District, but I need to warn you of schools that will go contrary to our Christian values and strip the authority that God gives you as parents of your children.”

Public and private settings offer different challenges. But they also provide wonderful opportunities to shape the consciences of your church members and to be honest about the moral parameters that surround their decisions.

Pastor, don’t let your members assume that their freedom in Christ neutralizes the moral value behind their decisions. It doesn’t. Be wise and deliberate about your moral instruction, both in counseling and preaching, for the glory of God and the good of your church.

The post Can I Bind the Conscience More in the Counseling Room than in the Pulpit? appeared first on 9Marks.

9Marks helps pastors and members build healthy churches by recovering nine biblical priorities: expositional preaching, gospel doctrine, conversion and evangelism, church membership, church discipline, discipleship, church leadership, prayer, and missions. These marks represent pillars of a faithful church—core commands God has given to promote life in the local body.

But anyone who has labored in the trenches of ministry knows that a church can be committed to these commands in theory yet still find its practice of these marks perpetually frustrated. When a church’s trellis is broken, its ministry vine can’t grow. This is why church operations—the daily management of people, finances, and processes—is so necessary.

While the Bible prescribes the primary marks of healthy ministry, it often leaves the “how” to the realm of biblical prudence. Operations is a stewardship ministry that applies godly wisdom to matters of church management and provides the essential infrastructure needed for a healthy church to function with integrity and endurance.

Order as a Theological Category 

We’re tempted to overlook the healthy management of resources, staff, and systems. After all, you won’t find church operations in an ecclesiology textbook. And this work doesn’t stand out like the key elements of a Sunday morning service. Yet I believe operations is a theological category, one that’s rooted in our doctrine of creation.

Scripture begins with God bringing order from chaos. The world was “without form and void” until God spoke and established form, sequence, and boundaries (Gen. 1). Later in the Old Testament, when the tabernacle laws were given (Exod. 25–27), they weren’t mere paperwork; they were instead an operational system designed to protect the holiness of God’s dwelling place. Then, after the exile, God used Nehemiah’s practical wisdom and administrative oversight to restore Jerusalem’s walls.

In the New Testament, too, the apostles acted with spiritual wisdom to bring order from chaos in a way that protected the church’s mission. In Acts 6, they appointed deacons to oversee the daily distribution of food so that their ministries of the Word and prayer wouldn’t be sabotaged by administrative neglect.

Pillars of Healthy Church Operations 

Healthy church operations function as a quiet servant of the Word in the following five ways.

Governance 
This is where ecclesiology meets the law. Do your convictions about congregationalism and elder plurality actually live in your bylaws? Bylaws are so important for orderly decision making. They inform the elders, staff, and congregation about how the church should be led both biblically and legally.

Finances 
How are the church’s resources stewarded? Financial systems protect the congregation’s generous investments and guard leadership against misconduct. A balanced budget and clear spending policies are matters of integrity.

Facilities 
Ministry happens in time and space. Whether your church is renting a school or maintaining a century-old building, stewarding your facility well is essential. Buildings either facilitate (thus the name!) or hinder the local gathering of the saints.

People 
Healthy policies for human resources and congregational care ensure that staff are employed in accordance with their gifts and that the congregation is well-equipped for the work of ministry (Eph. 4:12). Policies, handbooks, and job descriptions communicate clear expectations, and rhythms of regular communication about these matters guard against “management by assumption,” which can lead to staff and member burnout.

Systems and Processes 
How does the work of the church actually get done? As a church grows, relying solely on informal and relational equity is dangerous. Clear systems and processes will move your church away from subjectivity and toward a shared understanding of how and by whom decisions are made.

How Healthy Operations Serve the Gospel 

When its operations are healthy, the church doesn’t become more corporate; instead, its leaders are set free. Robust church operations serve the Great Commission in a variety of ways.

They create more time for pastoral ministry. When you’re not chasing paperwork or untangling avoidable crises, you can invest more time in shepherding.

They help you disciple more consistently. When your church has clear systems for tracking members and connecting them to classes or groups, people will feel known and fewer will get lost in the shuffle.

They help you steward resources more faithfully. When your church manages finances well, its giving can be spent on the mission priorities, not on correcting avoidable mistakes.

They help you maintain peace among leaders. Clarity reduces conflict. Direction reduces tension. When you have clear management systems, it eliminates decision fatigue and emotional drain that arise when staff are always guessing how to respond to each new situation.

Healthy operations aren’t about efficiency for its own sake. They instead involve honoring God with what he’s entrusted to us in order to create environments where the ministry vine can put down deep roots, grow, and bear fruit for years. The operations categories don’t replace prayer, preaching, or shepherding, but they do protect these more visible marks. Healthy operations are a framework that ensures the visible marks of the church shine forth clearly.

Don’t Neglect the Invisible Mark 

We must be clear-eyed about the consequences of neglecting church operations. Poor operations can erode a church slowly from within. They’re frequently a factor behind the devastating headlines of church failure. When a ministry collapses, it’s often not due to a theological technicality. More normally, it’s due to moral failure or a failure in basic management practices and financial oversight.

God loves to bring order out of chaos, but that’s no excuse for us to invite disorder. There’s a healthier way. A church where the work of operations is well-stewarded before God is one where communication is clear, money is handled responsibly, and staff know what is expected. These are marks that church leaders have been set free to do what Jesus has called them to do—make and mature disciples.

If you found this article helpful, Zach through the ministry of TGC is offering an 8-Week cohort for executive and associate pastors where you can learn more about how to serve your local church through healthy church operations. Click here to register today.

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Picture this: a church member meets with an elder to wrestle with a significant moral or theological issue. Let’s say the issue is along the lines of someone pursuing remarriage after a complicated divorce, doing IVF to start their family, or trying to go to the mission field. The elder listens carefully, agrees almost entirely, and both leave the meeting feeling aligned.

A few weeks later, however, the rest of the elder board discusses the matter and takes the opposite stance. They conclude the member should not remarry, the couple should not pursue circumventive reproductive technology, and despite one elder’s affirmation, the hopeful missionary is told he’s not ready to go.

What now? For members and elders who disagree with a board’s decision, pressing questions arise: Can I serve alongside or be shepherded by someone I believe is wrong on a morally significant issue? How much difference can one board bear? How far should I go to reconcile ethical, political, or pastoral disagreements?

To answer these questions, this essay offers a biblical framework for interpreting and responding to disagreements, with a particular focus on those that arise with elders in the local church.The scope of this essay is intentionally limited to disagreements within the context of a single local church. It will not address broader questions of inter-church cooperation, partnership in parachurch ministries, or determining appropriate levels of separation or unity in relation to the wider body of Christ. These are significant issues but setting them aside here will allow for a more focused treatment of the dynamics and applications relevant to local church life, especially in the concluding applications of this essay. Drawing from the various disagreements among church leaders in the book of Acts, this framework unfolds along two pathways for preserving unity.Apart from Acts and Paul’s confrontation of Peter in Galatians 2:11–14 (which is included in this essay), the rest of the New Testament does not narrate conflicts among or with elders. The following Scriptures are also relevant to this study, even though Acts remains the primary focus: Romans 14:1–15:7; 1 Corinthians 1:10–17; 3:3–9; 8–10; Ephesians 4:1–16; Philippians 4:2–3; 1 Timothy 5:19–20; Titus 3:10–11; Hebrews 13:7, 17. 

First, our hope, prayer, and effort should be that God will use our disagreements to display the unity of the Spirit. This can happen when we either reach a unanimous agreement or extend loving acceptance to one another despite our differences.

Second, when a disagreement escalates into a dispute that divides the membership or elder board, God protects the unity of the church through our responses: either by acknowledging his sovereignty as people separate or by admonishing the unrepentant.A survey of the disagreements that are recorded in the book of Acts reveals two broad categories of conflict within the early church: disagreements that display unity and disputes that divide. Understanding the difference between these is crucial for guiding how churches respond to conflict today. Christopher Landau also makes a distinction between “disagreements” and “disputes.” He defines disagreements as a “want of agreement or harmony; difference; discordancy, diversity, discrepancy” that does not inherently imply hostility or damage. Unlike a conflict or a dispute—which involve active contention, vehemence, and relational rupture—a disagreement marks a lack of unanimity but remains an opportunity for constructive engagement (Landau, A Theology of Disagreement, pp. 17–22). Landau emphasizes that disagreements are often fleeting moments where differences emerge but have not yet become toxic or divisive. His focus is precisely on these initial stages, encouraging the church to cultivate ethical practices that allow disagreements to be faced in a loving, respectful manner, thus preserving peace and unity. Additionally, several episodes in Acts (e.g., 4:1–22; 5:17–42; 12:1–25; 13:44–45) depict disagreements arising from outside the church—whether Peter and John’s Spirit-filled boldness before religious authorities or Paul and Barnabas’s response to Jewish jealousy and public contradiction in Pisidian Antioch. In both cases, the apostles modeled bold proclamation, steadfastness in prayer, and a willingness to move on from unfruitful disputes, showing that mission faithfulness does not require agreement from all hearers. While such passages provide valuable instruction for responding to external opposition, this essay focuses on disagreements within the context of local church relationships. 

How God Used Disagreements in Acts to Strengthen the Church 

Even though disagreements are often discouraging, Luke records several in Acts that display the Spirit’s power to unite his people. In Acts 6:1–7, a complaint arose from Hellenistic widows who felt neglected in the daily food distribution. Unlike Israel’s wilderness grumblings, which bred deadly division, this concern became the catalyst for Spirit-led unity. The apostles appointed seven men to oversee the distribution, the whole congregation was “pleased,” (Acts 6:5) and “the word of God continued to increase” (Acts 6:7). In the post-Pentecost church, complaints that once destroyed God’s people now prompt solutions that strengthen the body.

In Acts 10–11, Peter faced criticism from Jewish believers for eating with Gentiles. Instead of withdrawing, he patiently explained the events that led him there. His clear account silenced critics and moved them to praise God for granting repentance to the Gentiles (Acts 11:18). Wrongly criticized because of misunderstandings, Peter answered with grace and clarity. As a result, the Spirit turned criticism into worship.

A weightier example appears in Acts 15, when “no small dissension and debate” arose over whether Gentile believers must be circumcised to be saved. The apostles, elders, and congregation heard testimonies from Peter, Paul, and Barnabas, followed by James’s scriptural reasoning. Together they reached a Spirit-led consensus that preserved unity without compromising the gospel. Even large disagreements can be resolved through biblical dialogue and submission to the Spirit.

Finally, in Acts 18:24–28, Priscilla and Aquila met Apollos, an eloquent preacher who knew only John’s baptism. They “took him aside and explained . . . the way of God more accurately,” enabling him to refute opponents even more powerfully (Acts 18:26, 28). This shows how correction, given and received humbly, can make preaching more fruitful and strengthen a church’s witness.

Two Paths to Unity When We Disagree 

1. Agreement 

As these examples in Acts show, God often works through local church disagreements to produce Spirit-empowered unity. Ideally, the Spirit unites us by bringing us to unanimous agreement, having all things in common (Acts 2:44) and being “of one heart and soul” (Acts 4:32). In our day, amid widespread disunity and polarization, we need God’s Word to remind us that his Spirit is still uniting hearts and lives in deep fellowship and conviction.

Yet unanimity is not the only way the Spirit displays his unifying power.

2. Acceptance 

At other times, unity comes through acceptance. Even when convictions differ, believers can embrace one another in love, refusing to divide unless God’s Word requires it. Acts 10–11 provides a prime example. After receiving a vision and being led by the Spirit to Cornelius’s household, Peter declared, “God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean” (Acts 10:28). Later, at the Jerusalem Council, Peter testified that God “made no distinction between us and them, having cleansed their hearts by faith” (Acts 15:9) and concluded, “We believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will” (Acts 15:11).

Therefore, the unity within local churches must not be based on ethnicity, education, or social status, but on the Spirit’s work of cleansing the hearts of all who put their faith in Christ. This radical redefinition of who is acceptable in God’s eyes requires us to embrace everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself (Acts 2:39). If we submit all our differences under the lordship of Christ, God’s Spirit will lead us either to full agreement or loving acceptance of one another, even amid a whole host of disagreements.

This should be especially true for elders in a local church. If strong disagreements about weighty moral and ethical issues exist on your elder board, this may not be a cause for concern. It can be healthy for elders to hold differing convictions while maintaining unity and modeling loving acceptance.

Some members may initially be troubled to learn that their elders disagree on significant issues (e.g., vaccines, child education, alcohol use, political views, or theological interpretations), but Paul’s exhortation in Romans 15:5–7 is critical. After a lengthy discussion about issues of conscience, he did not require agreement on his views about food sacrificed to idols; rather, he urged the Roman Christians to live in harmony and welcome one another amid diversity. Likewise, elders should exemplify love, unity, and patience, even when holding strong convictions on matters not explicitly addressed in the church’s statement of faith or covenant.

Reflecting on Disagreements: Questions for Elders and Members 

With that in mind, if you are an elder or member facing disagreement with your church leadership on significant issues like remarriage, fertility treatments, or missions, consider the following reflection questions:

• Do I believe the Holy Spirit can bring unity to the members of my church, despite our disagreements?
• Am I listening to both sides of the argument, recognizing that my disagreement might come from incomplete information, misunderstandings, or a need for further teaching from God’s Word?
• How do your church’s foundational documents (such as the statement of faith, church covenant, or constitution) and position papers written by the elders address the issue of disagreement?If your church has not adopted robust foundational documents, it should consider doing so. These documents provide essential guidance for handling disagreements, helping the church perform “theological triage” by distinguishing core gospel convictions from secondary or emerging issues. They also assist leaders in “finding the right hills to die on,” ensuring that unity is preserved without compromising the essential truths of the gospel.
• While divorce, remarriage, abortion, and missions qualifications have been discussed for generations, newer issues like IVF, embryo adoption, and artificial intelligence may take months or years for churches to understand and apply God’s Word faithfully. Is this issue likely to become added to or an amendment of your church’s statement of faith?
• Is the disagreement a direct application of your church’s official doctrines and documents, or does it involve several steps of interpretation or implication?In my experience, American members and pastors would benefit from deeper relationships with Christians from other cultures and should consider seeking their counsel. Many pastors and missionaries worldwide serve in contexts where faithful church options are scarce or distant, making transfers or moves impractical. In such settings, leaders must carefully discern which doctrinal or ethical issues are significant enough to warrant division. Observing how churches navigate disagreements under these constraints can help American believers prioritize unity, distinguish core gospel convictions from secondary matters, and exercise patience and humility in conflicts that might otherwise lead to separation. 
• Before resigning my eldership or membership and moving to another church, am I willing to give this situation extra time, prayer, and patience?

God commands us to speak and act toward one another with grace and kindness, even amid disagreement. The New Testament repeatedly calls us to wage war against our sinful flesh, which produces strife, jealousy, and division that undermine the church’s witness (1 Cor. 3:3; Gal. 5:19–21; Eph. 4:31–32; Phil. 2:14–15; Col. 3:5–8). Yet when approached with humility, prayer, and love, God can use disagreements not only to preserve unity but also to strengthen the body of Christ. By pursuing agreement when possible and extending gracious acceptance when not, we reflect the Spirit’s power to bind the church together in genuine, godly unity.

God Works Through Disputes That Divide to Protect Church Unity 

While Acts encourages agreement and acceptance amid disagreements, it also offers sober examples and helpful instruction for when disputes escalate and divide the membership of local churches. As Paul warns in Acts 20:28–29, “fierce wolves” will arise from within to harm the flock, making vigilant and courageous shepherding essential to maintaining church health and unity.

Luke’s candid record of early church conflicts teaches that when sharp disagreements become divisive disputes, we must carefully discern whether we should acknowledge God’s sovereign purpose in the separation or admonish the unruly to protect the rest of the body. The following examples from Acts and Galatians 2 illustrate these two necessary responses to safeguard the unity and mission of the church.

First, in Acts 15:36–41, Paul and Barnabas experienced “a sharp disagreement” over whether to include John Mark on a missionary journey. No matter what we conclude about whether Paul or Barnabas was in the right, this dispute was not resolved and resulted in them parting ways. Yet it doubled their missionary effort. Barnabas took Mark to Cyprus, and Paul partnered with Silas to continue elsewhere.

Similarly, in Acts 21:10–14, Paul faced a difficult disagreement with his companions who warned him of impending danger in Jerusalem. When persuasion failed, his companions submitted to God’s sovereign will, recognizing their human limitations and trusting God’s providence. This account shows us that sometimes honoring God’s sovereignty means accepting that unanimity is not always possible and painful separations are part of God’s plans.

This story of separation reminds us that sometimes we need to simply acknowledge God’s sovereignty in sending, moving, and governing the affairs of his people. Therefore, when local church unity or fellowship is no longer possible—whether for good reasons like church planting or sending out missionaries, or because of less encouraging reasons like disputes dividing elders and members—we need to preserve the unity that exists in the broader body of Christ.

On the other hand, the early church also faced internal threats that required firm admonishment to protect its unity. In Acts 5:1–11, Ananias and Sapphira’s deceit regarding their offering threatened the communal unity of the Jerusalem church (Acts 4:32–37). The Holy Spirit’s swift and severe judgment served as divine discipline. This story should caution elders from avoiding necessary confrontations with the members of the church. To guard the body from further harm, God’s people need pastors who are filled with both courage and compassion. They need the very courage that Paul demonstrated when he publicly confronted Peter for withdrawing from fellowship with Gentile believers under pressure (Gal. 2:11–14). Peter’s hypocrisy compromised the gospel, and Paul’s admonishment was necessary to maintain the unity of the Spirit centered on the gospel. Therefore, preserving the church’s unity sometimes requires admonishing unruly leaders or members to prevent them from dividing the rest of the church.

When these examples of disagreement in Acts are considered together, they show that conflicts can become opportunities for the Spirit to display his unifying power. God may lead us either to agreement or gracious acceptance of one another despite our differences. When disputes escalate and threaten the church’s health, leaders must discern God’s will—whether by acknowledging his sovereignty in necessary separations or by admonishing those who undermine gospel unity.

In sum, elders and members facing significant moral, theological, or pastoral disagreements are called to patience, careful attention to Scripture and church foundations, and trust in the Spirit’s work. Rather than rushing toward separation, we are to pursue reconciliation, safeguarding the unity that both honors God and bears witness to the world.

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Daniel Darling, In Defense of Christian Patriotism. Broadside Books, 2025. 288 pp.

Talking about patriotism in church can feel like stepping on a landmine. Some Christians grew up with flags in the sanctuary and participated in “God and Country Sunday.” Others were warned about Christian nationalism and the dangers of idolizing one’s country. Many younger believers today simply feel uneasy saying anything positive about America at all. To put it simply, many faithful Christians are confused about patriotism.

Daniel Darling’s little book In Defense of Christian Patriotism aims to clear up some of that confusion. His main point is this: Christians can love their country without worshiping it. We shouldn’t embrace nationalism, but neither should we be embarrassed to show gratitude for the nation God has placed us in.

Right out of the gate, Darling puts his finger on something important: our culture is discipling us toward cynicism, not gratitude, and that spirit has crept into the church. Many Christians today feel like they need to apologize before they say anything good about America. But Darling reminds us that Scripture encourages gratitude wherever God has shown common grace. Patriotism isn’t about pretending our country has no flaws; rather, it’s about thanking God for the good he has given us, even in spite of those flaws.

Darling roots his reasoning in Christian worldview thinking. God created nations, he works through history, and he assigns all of us a place and a people to belong to. Loving your country, then, isn’t idolatry. It’s part of loving your neighbor.

Darling also spends time pushing back on the idea that faith has no place in public life. He shows that public expressions of faith aren’t a weird modern invention; they’re woven throughout American history. For example, past presidents prayed publicly, political leaders quoted Scripture, and churches shaped civic virtue. America was never a Christian nation, if by “Christian” we mean founded explicitly on the truths of the gospel, but neither was it designed to be a strictly secular nation in which expressions of faith were suppressed or discouraged. Furthermore, removing Christian influence doesn’t create neutrality; it just means another worldview fills the vacuum.

To be clear, Darling isn’t arguing for civil religion or baptizing a particular political party. He warns against confusing America with the kingdom of God, and he acknowledges that Christians have sometimes spoken unwisely and acted foolishly in political moments. Most importantly, he reminds us that our greatest witness comes through the local church, not from winning the culture wars.

I appreciate the tone of Darling’s book. It’s calm. It’s charitable. It refuses the extremes: “America is the hope of the world” or, on the other hand, “America is a dumpster fire and always has been.”

Will every reader agree with every line? Probably not. Some may want a stronger warning against patriotism because they think it tends toward idolatry. Others may wish that more time was spent critiquing secular progressivism. But at a time when many Christians feel lost between Ditch #1 (nationalism) and Ditch #2 (cynical resentment of America), Darling provides a good middle lane: Gratitude without worship. Discernment without disdain. Hope in Christ, not in the Constitution.

If you want a book that shouts or rants, this isn’t it. But if you want a wise, careful nudge to thank God for where he has placed you in the world, In Defense of Christian Patriotism is worth reading.

The post Should Christians Feel Guilty for Being Patriotic? appeared first on 9Marks.

Dee and I were not particularly close friends in high school. He never came to my house; I never went to his. I never met his parents; he never met mine. Some may have described our friendship as “shallow,” not because there was anything wrong with our friendship, per se. It could have become deeper and more personal. It just never did. And yet, Dee and I shared a special bond for one specific reason: we played football together. Dee was a large, ominous-looking middle linebacker—the kind of guy you would much rather have on your team. To this day, I picture him on the other side of a huddle, tired and sweaty, with a level-headed determination in his eyes. “Let’s go get these guys.” I haven’t seen Dee in years, but if I did, I imagine we would still share this same bond. Not because we enjoyed a particularly deep friendship, but because we worked hard and fought together toward a common goal.

Many of our relationships in the church (maybe even most of them) tend to work in the same way. Most of us will only enjoy deep, intimate friendships with a few people. The rest of our relationships will look much more like my relationship with Dee. We may know each other by name and face; we may have a few brief conversations from time to time; and we may regularly share a common experience that matters to both of us.

But we never go especially “deep.” And that’s okay.

In fact, these less-personal friendships—let’s call them church acquaintances—are vital to the health of our churches and the advance of the gospel.

Our Aversion to Church Acquaintances 

Several years ago, I helped to plant the church I now pastor. We have always emphasized “meaningful membership”—the importance of publicly professing our faith in Christ and making a conscious commitment to follow him together. Early on, the church was so small that all the members knew each other personally. In those early years, the spiritual significance of our membership seemed obvious and tangible to everyone. Every new member stood up and shared a five-minute testimony with the congregation. We hosted church-wide events in people’s homes. It was a special time! But as the church grew beyond a certain point, some began to raise an important question: Is our membership truly meaningful anymore?

It took me a while to understand this concern. Our theology had not changed, nor had our philosophy of ministry. But some had associated the meaningfulness of our membership with the ability to know each member personally, and that was no longer possible. In turn, the idea of forming less-personal friendships with a wider range of people felt like compromising—like settling for a less meaningful kind of fellowship. Some felt they were struggling to keep up as they tried to form deep friendships with every new member, while also maintaining the ones they were already invested in.

In short, our value for deep Christian friendships led some to resist the simpler, less-personal ones.

There are many different reasons we might have this aversion to church acquaintances. But in hindsight, it seems like this mentality is downstream of our modern-day individualism and the longing for “authenticity.” We tend to measure relational health in terms of disclosure. The more we are free (and expected) to share our hearts with people we trust, the healthier we assume that friendship must be. In turn, we tend to be suspicious of relationships in which we are not expected or invited to “bear it all.” We feel as if we must pretend or hide who we truly are to play by the rules of these friendships. So, we often do not value them; we avoid them; and we neglect the necessary skills to cultivate and multiply them within our churches.

“And good riddance,” we may even think. “I don’t need those shallow friendships. Who does?”

Meanwhile, our churches suffer. Because these less-personal friendships often lead to (or at least create the necessary conditions for) the deeper and more personal ones we all long for. Not to mention, these church acquaintances are also incredibly valuable in and of themselves.

Why Church Acquaintances Really Matter 

Picture a few thousand people gathered together in Solomon’s Portico (Acts 5:12), the outermost courtyard of the temple in Jerusalem, and the only area Gentiles were allowed to enter. Picture this assembly, filled with a strange mix of people—Gentiles and Jews, rich and poor, locals, foreigners, men, women, and children—all gathered in one place to declare that Jesus is the King of all creation. 

It was not the emotional depth of each person’s relationship that made this gathering so powerful. They did not all know the daily routines, life stories, ambitions, and fears of every person present. But they all knew the crucified, now-resurrected Christ. And they had chosen to gather there, in the outermost courtyard of this ancient temple, to declare that God was now building them into a new and living temple by faith in Christ (Eph. 2:21–22, 1 Pet. 2:4–5). God tore the curtain in two; he would no longer stay at a distance from his people. Now he would dwell with congregations like this and, through them, fill the earth with his glory (Eph. 1:7–10, 22–23). This is why our churches gather still to this day.

In other words, our membership is not just meaningful because we know each member. Our membership is meaningful because each member knows Christ and is being formed into his image together. Our lives are linked, not just by a subjective sense that we “feel connected,” but by the body and the blood of Jesus.

These days, we are quick to ask, “What is best for each individual Christian?” And without a doubt, from that vantage point, deep discipling relationships are most helpful. But too often, we never get around to asking, “What is best for our entire congregation?” From that vantage point, church acquaintances are absolutely essential. If we value and cultivate them, then our churches become like an interconnected web of relationships. The people who are acquaintances of ours will be other members’ closest discipling relationships, and vice versa. All of us will share the bond of fellowship. But if we do not value and cultivate these acquaintances, it can lead to a culture that is intimidating and hard to break into for anyone new. Visitors will walk into our churches and sense, “Wow! These people all really know and care for one another. But I’m not so sure there is any place for me in all of this.” Of course, none of us will want them to feel this way. But if they have to form deep, meaningful friendships to start feeling like part of the team at all, then chances are, many never will. If we want our entire congregation to thrive—not just the most connected members within it—then we need our members to value church acquaintances.

How to Help our Members Value Church Acquaintances 

By God’s grace, our congregation is starting to mature beyond these growing pains. The brothers and sisters with these understandable barriers have largely embraced the beauty of church acquaintances (while also maintaining their deeper discipling relationships). Here are four things that have helped us to create a culture that also values church acquaintances:

1. Preach on the Spiritual Significance of Being a Congregation 

As pastors and elders, we are always preaching to our entire congregation—that is, to all the members together. This means that we should regularly apply the truths of Scripture to a wide variety of relationships within our churches, including church acquaintances. For example, encourage your members to consider the other people in the room and what this week’s passage means for their relationships with all of them.

By regularly speaking to these church acquaintances from the pulpit, we can both reinforce their importance and give people the eyes to see their spiritual significance. Jesus has a team. To be a member of the church is to be on that team. And regardless of how well we know every other team member, we are all wearing the same jersey and working towards the same goal. That matters. Let’s preach to the whole team as if it is a team, not just to the individual players.

2. Honor the Role and Responsibilities That the Entire Congregation Shares 

A special bond is often formed between those who do important things together. As members of a church, we share some very important responsibilities. For example, entire congregations are expected to gather regularly (Heb. 10:25), welcome and remove members (Matt. 18:15–20), appoint leaders (Acts 6:3), submit to those leaders (Heb. 13:17), give sacrificially (2 Cor. 8–9), and send church planters and missionaries (Acts 13:1–3). Sharing these responsibilities can have the effect of forming bonds between each member, regardless of how well they know one another personally.

The reverse is also true. If a congregation has no role to play together, no responsibilities—no collective purpose other than to show up to the same services—that will make it difficult to cultivate a sense of connection between members who are not close personal friends. They will feel like members of a team that never practices or plays together. By honoring the role and responsibilities of the entire congregation, we train each member to think, “I may not know Amanda very well, but we do share the spiritual responsibility of binding and loosing people in Jesus’s name.” Or, “I may not be close friends with Tray, but we both give our hard-earned money to help this church make disciples.” That matters. Let’s shine a spotlight on the important work that every member of our church does together.

3. Show Hospitality to Newcomers and Those Who Have Recently Joined the Church 

In Ephesians 4, Paul tells us that the leaders of a church are responsible for “equipping the saints for the works of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (4:12–13). Elders play an important role in cultivating all kinds of relationships in our churches, including church acquaintances. If we do not value them, then our congregations won’t either. (This is likely why being “hospitable”—that is, demonstrating care and concern for strangers—is a qualification for eldership.) For the “hands” to value the “arms” in your church, they are going to need a good wrist. For the “feet” to care about the “legs,” they are going to need a good ankle. Like a good coach, let’s value the whole team by valuing each member of the team ourselves. Don’t just spend time with the members you know (or like) the best. Carve out space in your family’s weekly and monthly rhythms to spend time with visitors and new members. Better yet, bring a few long-standing members along with you so they can begin forming these same kinds of bonds—and possibly even deeper ones.

4. Wait 

Like deep friendships, developing healthy church acquaintances can take time—especially after a prolonged season of growth or change in your church. Keep preaching, keep doing important work together, keep getting to know people. Then wait for the Lord to knit all of you together. Remember, this is ultimately a spiritual work that only he can do.

Conclusion 

Praise God for deep discipling relationships. We all need them! But let’s not undervalue the casual acquaintances we have in the church. Ironically, in doing so, we can undercut a culture of disciple-making and miss out on the beauty of our spiritual connection with each member. We may not all be close friends, but as members of the same church, we are in the same huddle. And that matters.

The post The Surprising Importance of “Shallow” Christian Friendships appeared first on 9Marks.

Dave Harvey, The Plurality Principle: How to Build and Maintain a Thriving Church Leadership Team. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2021. 192 pp.

Over the past thirty years, plural elder leadership has become more popular nationally and internationally. This shift has strengthened local church shepherding. However, not all agree with this movement. In the early 90s, when my church adopted plural elder leadership, one local pastor spoke against it in his church newsletter. Without identifying us, he stated that churches with elders were not Baptist. He offered no biblical or historical argument, just anecdotes.

Here’s the reality: moving to elder plurality can result in opposition, even though plurality leads to healthier congregational care.

Why Oppose Elder Plurality? 

Numerous texts convinced me that neglecting this New Testament leadership structure shortchanged my congregation of shepherding, care, and guidance they needed and weakened my own pastoral effectiveness (Acts 11:30, 14:23, 15:2ff., 20:17–30; Eph. 4:11–12; Phil. 1:1; 1 Thes. 5:12; 1 Tim. 3:1–7, 5:17–20; Titus 1:5–9; Heb. 13:7, 17; Jas. 5:13–16; 1 Pet. 5:1–4).

Yet consider three categories of objections:

1. 1. Denial: “It’s not the way we’ve always done it,” which denies historic Baptist practice. Or “It’s just not biblical,” which denies what we see in the New Testament. Unfortunately, much of the opposition that plurality receives is rooted in denial.
   2. Holding on to power: “I don’t want some group of untrained men telling me what to do,” which misunderstands biblical authority. “This is my church,” which displays personal control.
   3. Misunderstanding congregationalism: “We don’t want to lose our voice”; congregations mistakenly think plural elder leadership cuts out the congregation’s authority.

Instead, plurality strengthens congregational authority. Everyone benefits from elders exercising a greater variety of gifts, with the senior pastor having increased liberty to play to his strengths.

Understanding Plurality 

Harvey looks at plurality from various angles to encourage churches to follow this biblical principle while enabling leaders to understand the unique role they share in God’s economy. He also asserts that too many churches have plurality in name but not in practice. It’s played out by talk without a walk, by overstepping the best use of the elders’ gifts, by gifted leaders swallowing up plurality, and by the creation of a top-down church government. He insightfully comments, “The more gifted the individual, the more essential the plurality” (78). Plurality, when rightly exercised, curbs the innate tendencies to control, to make ministry about self, and to use the church instead of serving it.

Plurality and Senior Pastors

Does plurality eliminate a senior pastor role? Championing the senior pastor, Harvey qualifies him as the primus inter pares or “first among equals.” He explains the right emphasis is not on first or equals but among. As he notes, “The senior leader becomes a steward of the group’s authority and responsibility and accountability” (47, italics original). The senior pastor’s gifts naturally position him to see how to expand the church’s ministry, to use leadership gifts on behalf of the elders, and to maintain better care for the elder team. Harvey affirms that people generally follow gifted leaders. Yet a gifted leader needs a commitment to plurality to avoid dependence on his personality. He distinguishes senior pastors with five responsibilities: custodian of plurality, catalyst for progress, curator of culture, captain of communication, and liaison for partnerships (57–66). 

Lay and Staff Elders 

Harvey espouses a solid rationale for non-staff elders in the plurality. Lay elders, while maybe lacking formal theological training or pastoral tenure, add needed diversity to a leadership team. As shepherds, they expand pastoral oversight and supply wisdom to work through pastoral issues. In the case of staff-elder turnover, they provide stability. They also offer broader perspectives to help staff pastors who may be trapped in ministerial tunnel vision. Harvey wisely adds, “When power is shared, it’s not lost; it’s multiplied” (112–118).

How Does Plurality Operate? 

For elders to play a significant role in the church’s health, they must focus on healthy practices within the elder team. Harvey identifies four pillars that any elder team can use in working together to build healthy plurality.

1. 1. Be on the same page with communication and guidelines.
   2. Be honest and humble through transparency and deference to each other.
   3. Encourage and nurture one another by paying attention to each other’s walks, marriages, conversations, and attitudes.
   4. Cherish time together to cultivate joy, holiness, and fellowship (122–125).

One Suggestion 

Harvey’s foundational premise asserts, “The quality of your elder plurality determines the health of your church” (15). Perhaps determines overstates the elders’ position and power. Influences, shapes, hones, and intensifies might be more apt. Ultimately, Christ determines the church’s health by the rich provisions of his redemptive work (Heb. 10:1–25). Yet Jesus has, indeed, appointed elders to shepherd the church toward spiritual health.

Harvey succeeds in writing an effective resource for elder boards, elder candidates, and congregations seeking to transition to elder plurality. I gladly recommend his book.

The post Is Elder Plurality Necessary? appeared first on 9Marks.

On the subject of confronting sin, Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “Nothing can be more compassionate than the severe rebuke that calls a brother back from the path of sin. It is a ministry of mercy, an ultimate offer of genuine fellowship.”

We tend to celebrate a church’s ministry of mercy when it matches our basic understanding of the Word—programs that provide care for the poor, resources that heal brokenness, and intercessory prayers for struggling brothers and sisters. But Scripture teaches that mercy walks alongside justice and righteousness, not away from them. Church discipline is such an occasion. Jesus taught that the purpose of discipline was to gain an erring brother (Matt. 18:15–20). Similarly, Paul wrote to the church in Corinth regarding the man who had his father’s wife, that the church was to put the man out of membership… “so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord” (1 Cor. 5:5). Discipline, though painful, is merciful. It intends to save.

My church recently enacted discipline in the form of removing an associate pastor from his role due to ongoing character deficiencies. All of our elders cared deeply for this brother and remain grateful for much of his ten-year ministry to our church.

And yet, this brother demonstrated a consistent pattern of anger, quarrelsomeness, and grumbling, all of which spilled over into our membership. Several elders addressed the issues with him individually, but the behavior did not change, so finally the situation came before us as an elder board. We decided unanimously that he needed to step away from the office of pastor. Our desire was that the brother would remain a member in our church because we wanted spiritual good for him and felt our church was the best place for that to occur. Sadly, he decided to leave because he disagreed with our decision.

I’m certain we did not handle the situation perfectly, but through it all, the Lord protected our congregation from dissension and division.

The question we faced throughout the process was a difficult one: When do character deficiencies disqualify someone from a pastoral office? All Christians, even pastors, struggle with anger, bitterness, and pride from time to time. Where is the line between acceptable imperfections and disqualifying sin?

While a great deal of discernment is required in every unique situation, here are the three lessons I learned from our church’s experience.

1. Character Qualifications Are Real Qualifications

When we think about the requirements to hold the office of elder, it’s easy to dismiss “small things” like gentleness and hospitality. Given the more practical concerns of leadership ability and management capacity, who has time to worry about such matters?

God does apparently, and he thinks we should too. In 1 Timothy 3:1–7, Paul lists fourteen qualifications for the office of elder, thirteen of which are related to character. The same is true in Titus 1:5–9. Paul seems far more concerned with character than competencies.

Character is not a secondary, nice-to-have feature for an elder; it is essential to the role. This is to be expected. As shepherds of God’s flock, we are called to be examples to the sheep, modeling the care that the chief Shepherd has for them (1 Pet. 5:1–4).

2. Have Hard Conversations Early

No one enjoys confronting a fellow leader—especially when it’s about their character. The temptation will be to leave the situation alone for a while, hoping that it will just work itself out. While God can do anything he purposes and is far kinder than we deserve, we should not expect miraculous change apart from faithfulness to the commands of Scripture. God has called us to hold one another accountable and confront sin (Matt. 18:15), not to passively wait for change.

When concerns about a fellow elder’s character arise, say something to them. The hope in addressing the issue early is that it never needs to go further, the man can repent, and you have gained your brother. As elders within a local church, we need to strive to create a culture where it’s easy to speak into one another’s lives. Such conversations are life-giving and protect us from ourselves.

3. Ignoring the Issue Is Unloving

When a pattern of sin persists and there’s no perceivable change, ignoring it feels easier, but it’s not loving. It’s unloving to the brother whose character is disqualifying because it tells him that his sin is not sin. It’s unloving to fellow elders, who are forced to endure the dysfunction. It’s unloving to church members, who are called to emulate the lives of their elders but find themselves following a man whose life should not be replicated.

Conclusion

Accusations against an elder should not be taken lightly, but when a brother is found in sin, Scripture clearly calls us to act, not only for his sake but also for the sake of the church (1 Tim. 5:19–21). This is true not just for major scandals, but also for patterns of behavior that fall short of the high calling placed on our lives as under-shepherds of Christ. These moments must prompt us to reflect on our lives and recommit to our calling. My prayer is that, like Paul, we may all one day say with confidence, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tim. 4:7).

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* * * * *

Protestantism began as a conscientious resistance movement. We resisted man’s command, but only because we were conscience-bound to obey God’s. But how can we know when to resist man’s commands?

We calibrate our resistance with the categories of God’s Word (1 Thes. 5:21).See J.C. Ryle, “Private Judgment” in Knots Untied (Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, f.p. 1874, repr. 2016), 49-68. Step one: tune the conscience to the frequency of the fifth command.

1. The Command

Protestants’ ethical discourse sees honoring parents as our paradigmatic response to all human authority.Luther extends the command to all those in authority as masters, “obedience due to superiors, persons whose duty it is to command and govern” (Larger Catechism, quoted in Patrick D. Miller, The Ten Commandments [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2009], 208-209). So also Calvin, who treats each command as a part standing for the whole (John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, eds. John T. McNeill, transl. Ford Lewis Battles [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1960], 1:372, 374, 376; 401-404). So also Heidelberg Catechism Q&A 105: The 5^th command requires “that I show all honor, love, and faithfulness to my father and mother, and to all in authority over me; and submit myself with due obedience to all their good instruction and correction, and also bear patently with their infirmities, since it is God’s will to govern us by their hand (Schaff, Creeds, 3:345). So also Westminster Shorter Catechism Q&A 64-65 (P. Schaff, Creeds 3:690), and Thomas Watson, “Father is of different kinds; as the political, the ancient [geriatric men], the spiritual [pastors], the domestic [heads of homes, including masters of servants], and the natural [dads]” (Thomas Watson, The Ten Commandments [Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth], 122). The verb “honor” is kabbēd, that is, to give glory or weight.Also noted by Joachim Douma, The Ten Commandments (Philipsburg, NJ: P&R, 1996), 171; Miller, Commandments, 176. So we begin by taking human authority seriously—parental, vocational, governmental. We acknowledge its gravity.

Satan knew human authority mattered to God, so he upended it, bottom to top—he took animal form, to suggest to Eve, apart from Adam’s authority, that they contravene God’s authority (“did God really say . . . ?”). Sin inverts God’s authority structure, corroborating Patrick Miller’s insight that the fifth command bridges the first and second tables of the Law.Patrick Miller, The Ten Commandments 168, who also rightly notes, “The primary thrust of the commandment concerning parents is that authorities are to be honored. The primary thrust of the statutes and ordinances that explicate the parents’ commandment is that authorities are to be worthy of the honor they receive” (Miller, 212). Submission to socio-political authority latent in the fifth command expresses obedience to the first four commands and shapes obedience to the last five. “There is no authority except from God” (Rom. 13:1).

But sin does not just rebel against authority in the abstract or against qualms of conscience. It defies objective natural law, known instinctively from conscience, whether taught or not by the codification of natural law in the Decalogue. Our response to authority, then, is not itself reducible to a mere conscience issue. “Do this and live” stipulates an objective “this” which we must do—fifth command included.

Jesus obeyed the fifth command by taking human form, submitting to his fallen parents (Luke 2:51), paying pagan taxes (Luke 20:22–25), and even recognizing Pilate’s God-given authority over him (John 19:11). He became obedient to unjust crucifixion under corrupt leaders (Phil. 2:8) by entrusting himself to him who judges justly (1 Pet. 2:23)—notwithstanding his blamelessness. He did all this to satisfy God’s righteousness for us—not excusing us for further rebellion, but “leaving you an example [of submission to unjust authority], so that you might follow in his steps” (1 Pet. 2:21; cf. 1 Pet. 2:13–20). That’s not Protestant liberalism, and it’s not fundamentalist legalism. It’s the gospel ethic, and it has to matter if we want to be like Jesus.

The New Testament epistles then do not revoke the fifth commandment; they invoke it (Eph. 6:2). They “plead the fifth” as grounding obedience to parental, vocational, and governmental authorities (Rom. 13:1–7; 1 Tim. 2:1–2; , 1 Pet. 2:13–17).The noun honor (timh.n) in Romans 13:7 is cognate with the imperative verb honor (ti,ma) in LXX Exodus 20:12. For the New Testament, what conscience should be conscientious of is God as the authority behind all human authority (backing it up), as well as over it (holding it accountable). Indeed, God calls us, at times, to suffer injustice under unjust human authority to illustrate Christ’s sufferings (Col. 1:24; 1 Pet. 2:13–20).

And besides all this, reverence for rulers is wise, and those who counsel otherwise will normally suffer ruin (Prov. 24:21–22; cf. Eccl. 8:2–3). Still, we should think through categories of abusive authority, conditions for obeying it, and criteria for resisting it.

2. Categories of Abusive Authority

Scripture shows us at least three categories of abusive authority that Christians can, and sometimes even should, resist. But when, how, and why we resist authority is often a matter of conscience, to be considered case-by case. What follows, then, is not a prescription for every case, but rather a set of biblical categories and criteria for thinking through cases where we will need to decide if and how we should resist authority. The expression of resistance will need to be commensurate with the abuse. Thankfully, there are levels of resistance for conscience to consider, among which are flight, verbal protest, civil demonstration, appeal to higher authorities, outright disobedience, or principled violence. Scripture shows us at least three categories of abusive authority we might want to resist.

Sinning Against Subjects

Pharaoh sinned by enslaving the Israelites (Exod. 1), yet when Moses resists by killing the Egyptian foreman vigilante-style, his conscience strikes him—“surely the thing is known” (Exod. 2:14)—and Pharaoh seeks the death penalty. Moses knew better than to do what he did—even in protest of ethnic slavery—and he was exiled for forty years. Pharaoh sinned against his subjects again by telling them to make bricks without straw (Exod. 5), but when the Israelite foremen confront him about the new policy, they’re made to regret it (Exod. 5:15–23). All the while, Pharaoh is resisting God’s authority . . . and only God can make him regret that.

Ahab (through Jezebel) extorted Naboth out of his vineyard, and Naboth resisted at the cost of his life (1 Kings 21). Herod wrongfully imprisoned the Baptist (Matt. 14). Rapacious taxation (Luke 3:13–14) and judicial partiality (Lev. 19:15) also qualify as sinning against subjects, as does any unjust boss (1 Pet. 2:18), and any unjust use of physical force, financial threat, or judicial power, either by a parent, teacher, boss, or ruler. This category is where we are often called to “endure sorrows while suffering unjustly” (1 Pet. 2:19). Sometimes authorities are sinning against us, resisting is futile, and we can do nothing but pray and endure it.

Yet there are times it would be unreasonable, and even unrighteous, to not defend ourselves against serious verbal or physical abuse, out of respect for the image of God in ourselves and a concern for the sixth command to be upheld in civil society—especially in the domestic sphere. A wife can do more than flee a violent husband—she can and should call the cops on him, get a restraining order, prosecute, even kill him in self-defense if absolutely necessary. A child can flee or report abusive parents whose treatment goes beyond legitimate corporal punishment. Congregations can and should fire abusive pastors. Scripture often lets these domestic exceptions go without saying (e.g., Eph. 5–6), but they are grounded in the imago dei principle of Genesis 9:5–6.

Legalizing Sin for Subjects

Ahasuerus authorized private citizens to exterminate Jews in Esther 3:7–15, allowing some subjects to sin against others. Yet God raised Esther to prominence with the king, she foils the plot, and the Jews are permitted by law to defend themselves. The U.S. has witnessed the legalization of colonial slavery, mid-century ethnic segregation, pornography, abortion, and no-fault divorce. Some companies allow questionable use of employee expense accounts. Here, Christians shouldn’t sin even though we legally could. Instead, we should promote virtue, protest vice, expose injustice, and shrewdly petition lawmakers—like Esther did.

Coercing Subjects to Sin

Pharaoh commands midwives to perform late-term abortions (Exod. 1:16), and God rewards the midwives for resisting (Exod. 1:17–21).Their resistance predates Sinai, so they are not responding to special revelation, but to natural law written on their hearts. They knew to preserve human life, notwithstanding a king’s command to the contrary. They couldn’t not know. God vindicates Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego’s disobedience to Nebuchadnezzar’s compulsory image worship (Dan. 3:15–20), then vindicates Daniel’s defiance of Darius’ edict against private prayer (Dan. 6:7–24). Mordecai refuses to bow to Haman at the king’s command, and Haman hangs from the gallows he meant for Mordecai (Esther 3:1–2).Though Joseph seems to make a surprisingly quick peace with people bowing to him in Egypt (Gen. 41:43). The Sanhedrin forbids the apostles to testify of Jesus’s resurrection, and the apostles refuse to comply (Acts 5:28–29). Included here is government sponsored torture to elicit apostasy, and crackdowns on public religious gatherings (Heb. 10:32–34), which contextualize the counsel of Hebrews 10:23–25.So H. Attridge (Hermenia, 290), F.F. Bruce (NICNT, 257, 259, says unfaithfulness was “actuated by fear of the authorities” or “the imperial power”), G Cockerill (NICNT, 479, 501, noting official opposition and imprisonment often accompanying confiscation of property), D. Hagner (NBC, 166, notes “persecution, whether from Romans or the non-Christian Jewish Community), L.T. Johnson (NTL, 36, 261), W. Lane (Word, 2:290, 300, considers the possibility of “official judicial action of magistrates who imposed heavy fines or confiscated property” and the “decree of expulsion in AD 49” as previous historical context for current Christian fears).  P.T. O’Brien (PNTC, 371, n.155, 385, popular persecution of Christians “increased the likelihood of arrest”), T. Schreiner, BTCP, 321, 331, quoting O’Brien, 385, on imprisonment by the authorities). All cite a renewed coercive persecution like the one mentioned in the immediate context (Heb. 10:32-34) as a probable impetus for early Christians to abandon Lord’s Day gatherings in 10:24-25. Historically, it’s common knowledge that Judaism was still a licit religion in the empire, while Christianity was not. That’s why the readers would be tempted both to revert back to Judaism and to quit attending church. This category provides the clearest threshold for resisting authority. In other words, when any authority over you requires you sin against God, you should resist.

3. Conditional Obedience

Yet even our obedience to human authority is qualified. Paul says, “Children obey your parents in the Lord” and servants obey masters “as you would Christ” (Eph. 6:1, 5)—which apparently includes the unfair ones (1 Pet. 2:18). Wives submit to their own husbands as to the Lord (Eph. 5:22). We obey all human authority, not only in the Lord, but also as to the Lord. This is why the Lord commanded Gideon to commandeer “your father’s bull, and pull down the altar of Baal that your father has, and cut down the Asherah that is beside it and build an altar to the Lord your God” (Judg. 6:25–26). If that’s not dishonoring your father in his own front yard, then I’m not sure what is. But it’s not sin for Gideon because the first command informs the fifth (cf. Ezek. 20:18–21).

Jesus commands our ultimate loyalty on the same basis. “Anyone who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me” (Matt. 10:37). That’s not just an affectional priority; it’s volitional, which is why his disciples defy any injunction against evangelism (Acts 4:19–20; 5:29). We are not allowed to not evangelize, notwithstanding state law or family custom to the contrary. It’s the same with gathering as local churches in Hebrews 10:23–25, where some of the members were apparently staying clear of the gathering out of fear of state (or parental) reprisals.

So we obey authorities in all things that don’t lead us to sin, either against God (1st table), others (2nd table), or ourselves (God’s image in our own persons). And if we must resist, then we make sure we know what specific sin we’re refusing to commit, we resist in a righteous way, and we resist in proportional degree.

4. Criteria for Resistance

A clear threshold for disobedience appears when authority deploys power to coerce people into sins of commission or omission (Pharaoh’s infanticide, Nebuchadnezzar’s image, the Sanhedrin’s prohibition, injunctions against church gatherings). Equally obvious is legalized murder of citizens by citizens (a purge like in Esther 3). Note the seriousness—either human life at any stage is imminently threatened, or God’s supremacy in worship is being usurped by the state.

But we don’t get a pass to disobey just because an authority sins against a subject or legalizes sin for subjects. Not every such instance rises to a degree that compels non-compliance or demands public protest. The Westminster divines acknowledged as much: “Infidelity or difference in religion doth not make void the magistrate’s just and legal authority, nor free the people from their due obedience to him [citing only 1 Pet. 2:13, 14, 16]: from which ecclesiastical persons are not exempted.”Westminster Confession 23.4, quoted in Schaff, Creeds, 3:654. The American Revision pertaining to separation of church and state has less to do with the paragraph here cited and more with the one prior on the magistrate’s authority to call synods, xxiii.iii (Schaff, Creeds 3:653-654).

In fact, Calvin argued that “they who rule unjustly and incompetently have been raised up by him [God] to punish the wickedness of the people. . . . [W]e need not labor to prove that a wicked king is the Lord’s wrath upon the earth.”Calvin, Institutes, 2:1512, citing Hosea 13:11; Isaiah 3:4; 10:5; Deuteronomy 28:29. See also 2:1510-1518. When’s the last time we thought about that? To our dismay, Calvin says,

Therefore, if we are cruelly tormented by a savage prince, if we are greedily despoiled by one who is avaricious or wanton, if we are neglected by a slothful one, if finally we are vexed for piety’s sake by one who is impious and sacrilegious, let us first be mindful of our own misdeeds, which without doubt are chastised by such whips of the Lord [cf. Dan. 9:7]. By this, humility will restrain our impatience. Let us then also call this thought to mind, that it is not for us to remedy such evils; that only this remains, to implore the Lord’s help, in whose hands are the hearts of kings, and the changing of kingdoms [Prov. 21:1 . . . Ps. 82:1 . . . Ps. 2:10–11].Calvin, Insts., 2:1516-1517.

Ah yes, we almost forgot—the subduing effect of self-examination. . .

Still, we might resist on behalf of others if given the chance to defend them from being sinned against by authorities. After all, Pharaoh’s decreed infanticide wasn’t just sinning against the midwives, but against the infants. Here we commend Harriett Tubman for the Underground Railroad, Corrie Ten Boom for hiding Jews from Nazis, white solidarity with blacks against Jim Crow laws or apartheid in South Africa, and Bonhoeffer’s plot against Hitler.Yet we should not drape the mantle of ethnic civil rights around the neck of every sexual minority. That’s a category mistake, as Voddie T. Baucham Jr. clarifies, It’s Not Like Being Black: How Sexual Activists Hijacked the Civil Rights Movement (Washington, D.C.: Regnery Faith, 2024).

All told, sometimes when authority sins against subjects or legalizes sin, we might be wise and righteous to submit and suffer, depending on the circumstances. Other times, when authority sins against subjects or legalizes sin, we can and should resist. The form of resistance, whether fight, flight, or somewhere in between, will be an issue of wisdom, conscience, and degree. But again—and this is big—every time an authority coerces us to sin against a clear command of God, we are indeed right to “obey God rather than men.”

5. Kinds of Resistance

How then shall we resist? We distinguish among legal recourse (Esther’s exposure of Haman’s plot and her appeal to the king; Paul’s appeal to his citizenship and to Caesar), non-compliance (the Hebrew midwives; Daniel; apostolic evangelism contrary to command), and vigilante justice (Moses killing the Egyptian). The first two are allowed, whereas the third normally is not, though in rare cases where leaders are committing crimes against humanity at scale, as in Hitler’s case, it’d be unreasonable and unrighteous to remain complicit. That said, when God wants to avenge unjust rulers for their injustice in Scriptural narratives, he normally raises up other official leaders like Jehu to execute Ahab’s house with the sword of the state (2 Kgs. 9–10). Or he sends them into battle to die at the random draw of a military bow (1 Kgs. 22:34). Athaliah was executed by the army, not a private citizen (2 Kgs. 11:13–16; para. 2 Chr. 23:12–15).

Here we acknowledge (and ground?) the Reformed doctrine of the lesser magistrates, which orbits around Calvin’s clarification:

For if there are now any magistrates of the people, appointed to restrain the willfulness of kings . . . I am so far from forbidding them to withstand, in accordance with their duty, the fierce licentiousness of kings, that, if they wink at kings who violently fall upon and assault the lowly common folk, I declare that their dissimulation involves nefarious perfidy, because they dishonestly betray the freedom of the people, of which they know that they have been appointed protectors by God’s ordinance.Calvin, Insts., 2:1519. This is quoted approvingly by, among many others, no doubt, William Bridge, The Wounded Conscience Cured (Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, f.p.?, repr. 2022), Works 5:207. On the right of revolution, Joachim Douma apparently agrees with Calvin that “lesser governments, or people who are recognized as leaders by the general populace, are the ones who should lead such a revolution” (The Ten Commandments [Philipsburg, NJ: P&R, 1996], 203). Perhaps this standard is one rubric among others by which to evaluate and debate the ethics of the American Revolution.

Short version: Lower authorities have a duty to restrain higher ones from abusing their power. But such is not the business of private citizens, who are normally limited to resisting through legal recourse or non-compliance, especially in matters pertaining to first-table law.“. . . But in case the civil powers do, or shall at any time impose things about matters of religion, which we through conscience to God cannot actually obey, then we with Peter also do say, that we ought in such cases to obey God rather than men; Acts 5:29. And accordingly to hereby declare our whole, and holy intent and purpose that through the help of grace we will not yield, nor in such cases in the least actually obey them; yet humble purposing in the Lord strength patiently to suffer whatsoever shall be inflicted upon us, for our conscionable forbearance.” (The 1660 Standard Confession XXV, quoted in Lumpkin, Baptist Confessions, 233).

6. Cruciform Suffering Before, or Because of, Resistance

Contrary to modern thought, human nature remains objective, finite, fallible, and fallen. A fallen conscience can be functional, but it’s not always reliable. Here we are calibrating conscience to the standard not only of God’s law, but also his gospel. In many cases where authority is not coercing us to sin, it is right for us to relinquish our rights and submit to unjust authority—as Jesus did for us (Phil. 2:5–8).

Key to all this is having an eternal perspective. “You joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one” (Heb. 10:34). The writer of Hebrews was working with congregations who had had their property plundered. In the case of these Christians, authority had clearly sinned against them by violating the eighth commandment! The counsel in Hebrews 10, however, was not to bring a lawsuit, bear arms, or stage a sit-in. Nor was it to roll over and quit meeting together publicly just because Caesar demanded it. Rather, it was to accept getting plundered for non-compliance because of their loyalty to the gospel. But you will only accept getting plundered here if you know you have a better possession elsewhere.

The church’s witness to Jesus is often more effective when we patiently endure injustice than when we fight it. “For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly” (1 Pet. 2:19). In fact, “To this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps” (1 Pet. 2:21). So before we think we are conscience-bound to resist, perhaps we should ask if we are called by Christ to suffer. Or maybe we should realize that resistance will elicit suffering, and that we’re called to endure it.

7. Critical Questions for the Resistance

• Are we being forcibly prevented from obeying God’s commands or coerced into obvious sin?
• If an authority is wronging me or legalizing others to do so, is Christ calling me to endure it?
• Am I a private citizen or a public authority entrusted with holding higher authorities accountable?
• If I am a private citizen resisting legalized sin, then does the manner and degree of my resistance reflect the fact that the authority is merely permitting sin but not coercing people to commit sin?
• Do I have vocational or legal recourse to lodge a moral complaint with a lesser authority that can hold a higher authority accountable for its abuse?
• If an authority is legalizing sin, am I still honoring this authority “in the Lord”?
• If an authority is sinning against those under it, is my private individual resistance likely to succeed and liberate, or fail and further enslave or kill (Exod. 5:15–21; Prov. 24:21–22; Eccl. 8:2)?
• If I’m violently resisting authority that sins against subjects, am I “killing the Egyptian” as Moses did? That is, am I taking retributive authority into my own hands vigilante style, illegitimately, as if I am allowed to execute vengeance privately in the same way the state wields the sword? Am I really being a Bonhoeffer? Does the situation really warrant such violence, by a private citizen like me?
• If I’m resisting, do I still seek to live a quiet life, godly and dignified in every way (1 Thes. 4:11–12; 2 Thes. 3:12; 1 Tim. 2:1–2)?
• If I think I’m being abused at home, have I talked with godly church elders to see if I’m right about the degree, severity, or extent of the mistreatment?
• If I’m a clearly abused wife, am I passively sinning against God’s image in myself by allowing my husband to deface it? (Gen. 1:26–28)
• Am I sinning against my clearly abusive spouse or parent by not confronting and/or reporting his sin (Lev. 19:17)?

Conclusion

Unjust authority (especially state authority) is the untamed beast of revelation that inevitably persecutes the church. May we resist? Yes, at times we can and should. But let’s be clear. In the end, we lose the culture war. The beast kills the church in Revelation 11:7. Yes, the Two Witnesses rise, but only to go to heaven (Rev. 11:12), not to execute their own vengeance or bring the authority of the kingdom to earth themselves. The day will come when “the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ” (11:15)—but only after the church is taken up to heaven (“Come up here,” Rev. 11:12).

Later in Revelation, we read this: “They overcame by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death” (Rev. 12:11). We die. That’s how we win. That doesn’t make pacifism invariably right or resistance always wrong. It will be a conscience issue for each of us, on a case-by-case basis. But in the end, we overcome Satan and the beast by not loving our lives even unto the death, because that’s how Jesus did it. Joachim Douma was right. “The style of our obedience must remain Christian, which means: it must correspond to what Christ did. Honoring those who are over us requires, then, that we must be ready to endure a lot.”Joachim Douma, The Ten Commandments, 178.

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For example, sometimes missionaries encourage people to stay in extremely dangerous situations as a “light” to their communities, despite Jesus’s instructions to “flee to the next [city]” (Matt. 10:23). Think, pastors: would you counsel a battered wife to go home and be a “light” to her husband, or would you help her look for safe housing?

Persecution is not an essential component of maturity. Yet I’ve even heard people say that persecution only makes the church grow more quickly and that we shouldn’t pray for persecution to stop in areas where it is most rampant because an unpersecuted church is lazy and complacent.

My concern isn’t to excuse laziness or complacency where they exist. But speaking as if persecution were necessary for the church’s health comes close to treating persecution as a positive good. That simply isn’t the way the Scriptures read:

• The New Testament repeatedly attributes the persecution of Jesus and his people to the work of Satan (John 14:30; 1 Pet. 5:8–9; Rev. 2:10, 13).
• The early church prays for the release of imprisoned saints (Acts 12:5; Phlm. 1:22).
• Jesus tells his disciples to flee persecution (Matt. 10:23).
• Jesus negotiates for his disciples’ release before giving himself up (John 18:8–9).
• Paul tells Timothy to pray “for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life. . . . This is . . . pleasing in the sight of our God and Savior, who desires all people to be saved” (1 Tim. 2:2–4). Paul believes peace and tranquility—rather than persecution—are most conducive to people being saved.

The New Testament church grieved persecution, attributed it to Satan, prayed against it, and tried to avoid it. Now, God does work despite persecution—even through it—to bring his kingdom in the New Testament. Paul tells Timothy that though he is “suffering, bound in chains as a criminal,” “the word of God is not bound!” (2 Tim. 2:9), and it’s through his imprisonment that Caesar’s Praetorian guard hears the gospel (Phil. 1:13, 4:22). Yet the fact that God works through persecution doesn’t make it good. God works through war, divorce, and cancer, too, but we don’t romanticize those!

And just like the evils of war, divorce, and cancer, persecution doesn’t result in growth alone. It takes a toll, too. It imprisons saints and isolates them. It bereaves, maims, and kills them. Certainly, the persecution in Acts 8 causes the gospel to spread beyond Jerusalem, but it also seems to stop the burgeoning spread of the church in Jerusalem. Similarly, in recent history, we’ve seen the church spread rapidly in China, but we’ve also seen persecution essentially eliminate the church in parts of North Korea and the Muslim world.

We should do all we can to shield people from the ravages of persecution. We should try to avoid and prevent it. We should pray against it. When God sees fit to answer those prayers, we can rest assured that he is bringing his kingdom in gentler ways. Missionaries should generally counsel persecuted believers to “flee to the next city” when persecution is severe enough, even if their departure may preclude their ability to help contribute to church growth there.

Is there still a place for courageously standing our ground? Of course! Jesus and his disciples don’t flee persecution lightly; they only “flee to the next” city when there’s civil unrest or credible risk to life or limb. Fleeing persecution doesn’t necessitate going to the safest, farthest place possible. Often, New Testament believers simply go to an adjacent city until the trouble dies down. Peter left Jerusalem after Herod tried to kill him and returned when Herod died. And when he couldn’t get out of the way of persecution, he had ample courage to die for his faith.

But Peter himself would tell us the strength to joyfully stand with Christ amid persecution comes from knowing that there’s a reward (1 Pet. 4:13). Peter knew that persecution isn’t the point. It is simply a road through the wilderness that God may ordain for us to travel. The point—the destination—is the promised land on the other side of the wilderness. It’s the hope of eternal joy in that land that carries us through our sorrows.

Part of that joy will be the taste of victories won through suffering along the way. The author of Hebrews tells his persecuted readers that Satan uses the “fear of death” to hold people in slavery (Heb. 2:14–15). Today, throughout the world, the terror of persecution still holds millions in slavery. Our sufferings allow us to demonstrate Jesus’s resurrection power, rather than just telling people about it. That’s why Paul said that in our sufferings, we carry “in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our bodies” (2 Cor. 4:10). People who’ve seen Jesus’s resurrection life manifested and trusted his power can’t be held in slavery by fear any longer.

So, is persecution desirable? Most emphatically, no! God himself is against it. If he sometimes chooses to reveal his power in the persecution of his people, he does so to free others from the terror of persecution forever in a new world beyond suffering. Can the promise of eternal joy with them in that world give us ample strength to bear whatever difficulties we may endure along the way? You can bet your life on it.

* * * * *

Editor’s note: This article has been adapted from Rhodes’s book Persecution in Missions: A Practical Theology (Crossway, 2026).

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Few issues command the attention of Americans today like our sexual and marital unions. Daily news reports—let alone the tidings percolating from the pews—attest to our disordered ways. The costs of family dysfunction and personal alienation are overwhelming and incalculable.

An article in Harper’s Magazine highlighted individuals and couples morally committed to not having children, collectively known as the “antinatalist” movement. In a world of hardship and suffering, into which children by definition did not consent to enter, and one which will soon be destroyed by climate change and other products of human rapaciousness, antinatalists argue it is good and right to cease human procreation and persuade others to do likewise. Meanwhile, the reproduction rate in the U.S. has fallen to 1.6 per woman, well short of the replacement rate of 2.1, but still ahead of many other putatively advanced nations.

If we cannot be bothered to reproduce, if non-existence seems preferable to the burdens, responsibilities, and givenness of life, perhaps we can at least find solace in happy marriages. After all, Hollywood and popular music have long allured us with the promise of romantic dinners, satisfying sex, and deep communion with our true love. But our sexual and mating economy today is a dark place, filled with loneliness, hurt, and cynicism. Increasingly, people are opting out.

Figures like Andrew Tate and movements like MGTOW (Men Going Their Own Way) urge millions of young men to avoid marriage; sure, have lots of sex with women, but always on your terms and at sufficient emotional distance, because marriage is a sucker’s bet to be eluded at all costs. In a feminized society, the marital deck is stacked against men, from relentlessly demanding women to punitive family courts, so self-protection and selective opt-outs make sense.

Involuntary celibates, or “incels,” likewise maintain an anti-woman rhetoric, often tinged with deep hostility toward the women they cannot get and the “Chads and Stacys” who rule the dating world. These “manosphere” manifestations are mirror images of various strands of feminism, which have long traded in similar pain, strategies, and dismissals toward men. Today’s dating world is fraught with normlessness, uncertainties, and mutual incomprehension and antagonism.

Some six decades into our massive social experiment with reordering sex and sexuality, gender, and marriage and family, the state of our marital unions doesn’t look much better. Around forty percent of first-time marriages now end in divorce, admittedly a decline over the past couple decades, but only because so many people do not get married, even when they are procreating. Some forty percent of American children are born out of wedlock today, an astounding figure with massively detrimental social costs for the children involved and for society at large. No wonder there is so much fear, wariness, and anger between the sexes today, especially young men and women.

Into this minefield steps Brad Wilcox with a straightforward message: get married and build strong families, defying the antenuptial and antinatalist messaging of our ruling elites. Wilcox, a sociologist and director of the National Marriage Project at the University of Virginia, has long studied marriage and family at the highly regarded Institute for Family Studies at UVA. In various academic and popular venues, Wilcox has written extensively on these topics. In Get Married, he aims to reach a popular audience with an accessible, academically grounded treatment of the heterosexual marital landscape today. In particular, Wilcox hopes to puncture several prevailing myths surrounding marriage, highlight its beneficial characteristics and which communities or groups are doing best in the marital realm, and challenge cultural elites to preach what they practice.

According to our leading lights, life is better “flying solo,” unencumbered by the demands and unrealistic expectations of lifelong monogamous marriage, as illustrated in countless films and bestsellers, such as Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, and Love (2006). But clear survey evidence that married people on balance are healthier and happier, along with our national loneliness epidemic, suggest otherwise. The “family diversity myth” claims it is love and money, not stable and enduring marriages, that create secure and successful families. The bonds of romantic love and the power of personal choice enable us to construct authentic and meaningful families that, while not necessarily permanent, are legitimate because they’re self-chosen and self-enhancing.

Until they’re not. Many decades of social scientific and family research attest that children fare much better with their biological father and mother except in the most dangerous situations. One indication: children are roughly seven times more likely to suffer physical and sexual abuse when stepparents or paramours are in their homes than with biological parents.

Finally, Wilcox tackles the “soulmate myth,” the central trope of countless rom-coms and online dating services. Expecting your spouse to fulfill your deepest longings, facilitate your growth into wholeness, and maintain your ongoing happiness, all while remaining suitably romantic and sexy, is a recipe for disillusionment. Or perhaps perpetually shifting illusions. At last count, Elizabeth Gilbert had dispensed with the Brazilian husband she met in Bali after ditching her stifling first marriage and going on a journey of personal renewal; proceeded to engage in several torrid love affairs, including with a dying female friend; and now sings the praises of singleness and non-maternity in her fifties, still seeking her one true soulmate.

Wilcox addresses several other misconceptions that muddy the marital waters stirred by our elites. Children do not make life miserable and marriages unhappy. In fact, in most cases they enhance the happiness of parents and strengthen marriages by eliciting mutual sacrifice and teamwork for the well-being of others and for goals that extend beyond the limited confines of the self.

What Wilcox calls “blank-slate feminism,” or “the idea that there is no fundamental difference between men and women,” underlies assertions that marital responsibilities and tasks should be evenly divided. But his inquiry into the actual lives of married couples, including those who support such views, suggests that in practice women want men to be the primary providers and protectors, while being attentive to them and their aspirations, and they want to be the principal caregivers for their children.

Not surprisingly, guarded protection of self-interest and personal needs does not promote marital health. Rather, a focus on “we before me” is critical in marriage, but our culture of expressive individualism and self-obsession makes this exceedingly difficult. Religions like Christianity that promote selflessness, sacrifice for the good of others, mutual forbearance, and forgiveness are an inestimable support of good marriages and a bulwark against a corrosive culture. Indeed, Wilcox finds that what he calls “masters of marriage”—those with tangibly higher rates of marital success—include people active in religious communities, social conservatives, communally minded Asian Americans, and what he calls “Strivers,” or upper-middle-class professionals who rigorously pursue socioeconomic and status enhancement for themselves and their children.

The outlier here is the Strivers. Whereas the other groups promote traditional marriage and family conceptions, often embedded within a framework of interdependent communal relations and bonds, the Strivers are secular progressives. They attend elite colleges, populate key urban centers of power and influence in their twenties and thirties, and then decamp to wealthy suburbs with highly rated schools once children arrive. And they seem to want nothing more than for their offspring to attend the same caliber of schools and have the same opportunities for advancement they had in an ever more frenetic, competitive landscape.

Wilcox directs his most incisive criticism to these Strivers, who “preach left and walk right.” That is, they promote and peddle the falsehoods that erode our marital and family culture, through positions of influence in government, academia, law, media, and corporations, but they follow and teach their children the success formula of finish school, get a job, get married, and have children, in that order. They attack the “bourgeois values” of the traditional family as racist and sexist, but they carefully enact them in their homes. Wilcox devotes lots of time to exposing the hypocrisy of professed liberationism. Even while they have gutted one of the few traditional sources of relative stability for the poor and working classes through the sexual revolution, no-fault divorce, economic globalism, and so much more, our ruling elite has maximized their own sexual, moral, and familial freedom of action. The despairing results are evident in small towns and urban wastelands throughout America, but they can be awfully hard to see from McLean, Palo Alto, and Princeton.

Or Charlottesville, for that matter, where the beautifully manicured lawns of President Jefferson’s university may well keep such unpleasantness at bay. But not so for Brad Wilcox, Catholic husband, father of seven children (five adopted), and undaunted scholar of the family. Wilcox has written an honest book that displays the manifold benefits of traditional marriage and family, and he has written a courageous book that challenges our elites to talk their walk, to proclaim what they actually practice for their own good and that of their children.

The Old Testament prophets had much to say about the oppression visited on the poor and suffering by the wealthy, both direct and indirect. Modern forms of oppression are no less insidious, and modern idols no less destructive. In the name of justice and human flourishing, let us seek to rebuild the norms, structures, and practices of enduring, healthy marriages and families.

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How far does an elder’s authority go in the local church? This question assumes at least two things:

1. That elders, in fact, have authority to direct church members.
2. That their authority has limits.

The Bible teaches both truths. Paul refers to elders as those who rule (1 Tim. 5:17). He commands Titus, whose job was to replace himself with elders, to “exhort and rebuke with all authority” (Titus 2:15). Hebrews 13:17 directs hearers to “obey your leaders and submit to them.” Or consider that the interchangeable New Testament titles for the office—elder, shepherd, overseer, leader—all connote authority.

Yet Scripture never portrays elders wielding absolute authority. Jesus alone reigns as head of the body, monarch of the kingdom, and chief shepherd of the flock. Yes, believers must obey their leaders and submit to them, but leaders must give an account (Heb. 13:17).

That much seems clear. Less clear is to what extent an elder can “exhort and rebuke with all authority.” What can an elder legitimately tell a church member to do, and at what point does he exceed his jurisdiction? Must a church member submit to an elder’s instruction on, say, drinking alcohol, fertility treatment methods, attending a home Bible study, or trick-or-treating? Where’s the line?

The simple answer is that the line is the Bible. An elder has authority insofar as he says what Scripture says, because what Scripture says, God says. But that raises a further question. What do we mean by “what Scripture says”? Does that mean an elder’s authority involves nothing more than quoting Bible verses? Can he appeal to good and necessary consequences from Scripture or moral principles derived from the Bible?

Perhaps rather than a line, we need to think of the limits of an elder’s authority more as a sliding scale of certitude. By “certitude,” I don’t mean confidence in the Bible’s inspiration or authority. Rather, I mean the certitude of our interpretation of Scripture. The Bible is infallible, true, and clear. We, however, still read it through imperfect lenses on this side of heaven.

An elder therefore must calibrate his language and tone based on his level of certitude. At the high-certitude end of our scale are issues where an elder can say without hesitation, “You must do or not do this or that.” At the low-certitude end are issues where an elder speaks more tentatively. He might say, “Let me share my perspective, and I’d also like to hear what you think.” Consider the following categories of authority triage, moving from high-certitude to low.

Category 1: Clear Biblical Teaching

Let’s start with the most certain exercise of elder authority: If the Bible clearly commands something, then an elder can command it. If a church member is having an affair, an elder can confidently rebuke him and exhort him to stop because God says in his Word, “You shall not commit adultery” (Exod. 20:14). An elder can direct a church member to attend church regularly (Heb. 10:25), not file a civil suit against a fellow believer (1 Cor. 6:1–11), and forgive a repentant brother from the heart (Matt. 18:21–35). When God’s Word speaks plainly to a member’s situation, an elder should speak boldly.

That may seem obvious, but elders today need encouragement to speak boldly. Western culture holds authority in suspicion, especially here in the US. Our current societal mood can tempt church members to view every exercise of authority by an elder, no matter how gentle, as “spiritual abuse.” Every inconsistency in leadership is evidence of a sinister conspiracy. Elders, in turn, may shy away from saying what God’s Word says for fear of being accused of bullying.

But elders should never water down God’s Word on matters of sin and righteousness. An elder may need to warn the stubborn adulterer that, unless he repents, his infidelity will ruin his family, contradict his assurance of salvation, lead to church discipline, and ultimately sink him to hell. An elder has the authority to say all that.

Category 2: Church Documents

Church documents refer to things like a church’s doctrinal statement, statement of faith, membership covenant, bylaws, and perhaps formal position statements on particular issues. I put these documents at the higher end of the certitude scale because, at their best, they aim to summarize biblical teaching. Doctrinal statements distill what the Bible teaches about core theological truths. A membership covenant encapsulates what the Bible says about how believers should live together in a congregation. Bylaws flesh out the Bible’s instructions for church order. Ideally, you should read a church document and say, “Yeah, I can see where they get that from Scripture.”

Furthermore, church members presumably joined the congregation having agreed with those documents. They understood that this particular church interprets and applies the Bible in these particular ways, and they voluntarily submitted themselves to those documents by joining as members.

As the shepherds of the church, elders can authoritatively exhort and direct members from the church’s core documents. An elder could gently but firmly say, “Despite being ‘baptized’ as an infant, you should be baptized as a disciple because that’s what the Bible teaches, which is also in our church’s statement of faith.” Or he could say, “You should be giving regularly to missions because our church covenant includes that commitment.”

I pastor a church in Florida. Last year, Florida had a ballot initiative that would have enshrined abortion rights into our state constitution. Not only does the Bible trumpet the sanctity of image bearers in the womb, but our church has a formal document committing us to a pro-life stance. Therefore, I confidently urged church members in writing and from the pulpit to vote against the ballot measure. In God’s mercy, the measure failed!

Category 3: The Elder’s Conscience

With this category, we move from the bright white certitude of biblical command, past the off-white confidence of church documents, to the gray area of an elder’s own conscience and moral reasoning. One might argue that at this point we have crossed the line of an elder’s authority and entered the realm of mere opinion.

But not so fast. Think for a minute about a Christian’s conscience. Even before conversion, our conscience can rightly condemn us because it still retains some correspondence to God’s moral law, however imperfect. After conversion, God’s Spirit begins recalibrating our conscience to align with God’s Word. Ideally, an elder has spent significant time meditating on the Bible so that his internal moral compass has come to align more and more with God’s will. Just because an elder speaks from his conscience doesn’t mean his views are merely another hot take. He’s making a moral judgment increasingly informed by Scripture.

This category encourages an elder to share his conscience with church members, albeit less assertively. Instead of saying, “You must do this because the Bible says so,” he might use more nuance like, “Having wrestled with God’s Word, here’s where I’m at in my own thinking, and I encourage you to consider this perspective in light of the Bible’s teaching.” This allows an elder to share strong convictions while humbly acknowledging his fallibility. It’s less an authoritative command and more like authoritative persuasion, less like Paul rebuking Peter and more like Paul persuading Philemon. The elder is not so much binding another’s conscience as discipling another’s conscience.

Here are some topics that might fall into this category: IVF in light of the sanctity of life, watching R-rated movies and M-rated TV given the command not to lust, voting for a particular candidate in an election due to the morality of their platform, remarrying after a divorce (assuming it’s not covered under category 2), or allowing your homosexual child to stay in your house overnight with a same-sex partner. Category 3 issues typically revolve around the application of clear biblical teaching to specific situations.

Elders, don’t be afraid to talk about these matters with church members and share your moral reasoning. Help them see how you move from text to application. In so doing, you’re discipling your people to think biblically about complex issues, even if they reach different conclusions.

The safest way to tackle complex issues of the conscience is in conversation. Be judicious about how you share your views on these matters from the pulpit. Even with careful nuancing in a public setting, people can misunderstand you, and without some sort of follow-up interaction, you won’t even know they’re confused.

Category 4: Wise Counsel

I place wise counsel at the far, dark gray end of the certitude spectrum. By wise counsel, we’re not so much talking about what a Christian should do but how to do it. Wisdom helps us flesh out God’s Word at the street level, in the nitty gritty of life.

Imagine an elder shepherding a brother fighting pornography. The elder might wisely counsel him to dump his smart phone for a dumb phone to limit internet access. Having a smart phone isn’t a moral issue (category 3). Rather, it’s a matter of prudence. Similarly, he might advise someone to think twice about taking a new job that pays a little more but will relocate his family away from the church where they are thriving. He could gently give tactical tips for discipline to a parent who’s struggling with an unruly child.

Does an elder have the authority to dispense such advice? Yes. The title “elder” implies a seasoned saint who has wisdom to impart (1 Tim. 3:6). But the elder must be careful not to serve up his counsel with the “thou shalt” ladle. Nor has a church member sinned by ignoring the elder’s game plan. This is often where authoritarian churches and cults cross the line. They confidently tell people whom to marry, which car to buy, and what time to wake up each day, and then they label any deviation from those commands as sinful rebellion. That’s true spiritual abuse.

Category 5: Adiaphora

This final category includes, well, everything else. Adiaphora means “indifferent matters” like preferences, opinions, and sensibilities born of personal experience, cultural background, and generational tendencies. Examples might include opinions about Halloween, food restrictions, gun ownership, homeschooling, recycling, tax policy, Harry Potter, music styles, tattoos, electric vehicles, pet adoption, holy days, cloth diapers, and vaccinations. And these are just topics from American culture. Add in cross-cultural complexity, and the list balloons.

When it comes to adiaphora, an elder should exercise his authority not by espousing a particular view, but by urging believers to accept one another, not judge one another, and not cause one another to stumble (see Romans 14–15). Elders should help believers develop a broad category of Christian freedom.

Let’s take the categories and apply them to the issue of alcohol. Here’s what an elder might say under each category.

1. Clear Biblical Teaching: “Don’t ever get drunk. And don’t offer a drink to someone given to drunkenness.”
2. Church Documents: “Our church covenant does/doesn’t address the use of alcohol.”
3. The Elder’s Conscience: “I choose not to drink in public because I never know who’s watching. I don’t want to inadvertently hurt my witness to a non-Christian or confuse and discourage a church member who has a different conscience about alcohol. I encourage you to consider this practice.”
4. Wise Counsel: “If you do imbibe, you’re wise to stop at one drink.”
5. Adipahora: “Whether you choose to drink responsibly or refrain completely is between you and the Lord.”

Conclusion

There may be additional useful categories. And you may think certain issues listed above should be bumped up or down the scale. But regardless of how you slice the pie of certitude, my argument is that elders need to fine-tune the exercise of their authority by adjusting the dials of confidence and humility depending on the issue. Let us pray with Solomon, “Give me now wisdom and knowledge to go out and come in before this people, for who can govern this people of yours which is so great?” (2 Chr. 1:10).

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