practicing what we preach: no more super-apostles
The United States was born in a revolt against royal tyranny. Colonial flags bore slogans like “Don’t tread on me” and “We serve no sovereigns here.” The alternative was not anarchy, but a settled constitution for a republic that would be ruled by laws rather than by human beings. Yet the protest against earthly sovereigns bled into a religion of self-sufficiency before God. No longer pawns of royal and aristocratic ambition, each citizen was now free to pursue his or her own ambition as long as it did not interfere with the ambitions of others.
The story of American independence is a stirring chapter in the history of nations. Yet Christians cannot fail to appreciate with regret the extent to which selfish ambition — disguised as liberty — has infected the church. After all, we still serve a sovereign — the King of kings. It is he who has delivered us from the hands of our enemies at the cost of his own blood, and it is he who has delivered his constitution to us through the hands of his apostles. It is he who continues his reign through fallible ministers, elders, and deacons. He rules to save and he saves to rule. If we are living as if there were no king and everyone is free to do what is right in their own eyes, then we are not living in the church that Christ has established.
A democratic view of the church is a rebellion against God and his Messiah. The American colonists declared independence, won it, and therefore created a constitution for a nation “of the people, by the people, for the people.” However, God created us as dependent image bearers, liberated us one-sidedly from death and hell, and therefore has the sole right to determine the constitution for his holy nation.
As we saw in the previous chapter, ambition unleashes the war of all against all, where each of us becomes a little emperor. Left unchecked, we come to the place where we cannot submit to anyone or anything. We alone choose what to believe, how to live, and what sort of church appeals to us. But since not everyone will be as successful in fulfilling their ambitions, the cream will inevitably rise to the top and those most gifted at appealing to (and manipulating) our choices will become our de facto rulers. Apart from our Servant King, who reigns through his ordained means, constitution, and offices, we will be at the mercy of self-appointed despots who rule according to their own whim.
Between these diverse poles lies the vast spectrum of actual life in the church.
Paul and the “Super-Apostles”
It is hardly surprising when prosperity evangelists fall into scandals of various sorts or when apostles of self-esteem become a little too fond of themselves. The real tragedy is the extent to which ambition and even avarice are tolerated — even cloaked in pious expressions — in more traditional circles.
We can take some comfort in knowing that we are not alone in dealing with these problems. Even among the disciples themselves, the fever entered the camp:
A dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest. And he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For who is the greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves? Is it not the one who reclines at table? But I am among you as the one who serves.” (Luke 22:24 – 27)
The thrones in his kingdom are not won by ambitious men, Jesus said, but “I assign to you, as my Father assigned to me, a kingdom, that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (Luke 22:29 – 30). Similarly, Paul says that different spiritual gifts were assigned to each believer by the Spirit, all of grace (Eph 4:7).
Clustering around favorite teachers was a danger even in the apostolic era. Disagreement and division over basic doctrine is always tragic, but often necessary (1 Cor 11:19). However, most divisions — then and ever since — are provoked by ambitious people who sow discord in order to draw disciples after themselves (Rom 16:17; 1 Cor 1:10; Titus 3:10; Jude 19).
Paul was wrestling with this even in the churches that he planted. Some of those who at first embraced his gospel message with joy became bored with its simplicity. Surely there must be something more. That is where the “super-apostles” came into the picture. These persuasive speakers claimed to know secrets far greater than the apostles, especially Paul, had revealed. Just look at Paul! Weak and unappealing, without flowery oratory, Paul hardly looked the part of a divine ambassador. How easy it is to draw people away from the simplicity of the gospel with smooth talk!
For if someone comes and proclaims another Jesus than the one we proclaimed, or if you receive a different spirit from the one you received, or if you accept a different gospel from the one you accepted, you put up with it readily enough. Indeed, I consider that I am not in the least inferior to these super-apostles. Even if I am unskilled in speaking, I am not so in knowledge; indeed, in every way we have made this plain to you in all things. (2 Cor 11:4 – 6)
Yet Paul is not deterred from his message or mission:
And what I am doing I will continue to do, in order to undermine the claim of those who would like to claim that in their boasted mission they work on the same terms as we do. For such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ. (2 Cor 11:12 – 13)
The apostle to the Gentiles knew that he would not be emulated for his personal charisma or leadership qualities or creative strategies. Actually, the naturally gifted and self-promoting “super-apostles” scored high marks on that exam. “For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. . . . But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Cor 4:5, 7). It’s the message, not the messenger.
So Paul exhorts the Corinthians, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1). But the real heroes — the people we should look up to, like Paul — are not the ones who set out to be heroes in the first place. Paul believed that even the apostles are merely witnesses to Christ, who is building his church. “What is then Apollos? What is Paul?” They are simply servants through whom people believed the gospel (1 Cor 3:5). We need more ordinary ministers who, like Paul, not only say this but act as if it’s true.
In 1 Timothy the apostle draws an intriguing connection between false doctrine and ungodly ambition. To follow up this connection, in chapter 5 he gives instructions on proper order, offices, and discipline in the church. Then in chapter 6 he encourages each person to embrace his or her calling in society and in the church with contentment:
Teach and urge these things. If anyone teaches a different doctrine and does not agree with the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching that accords with godliness, he is puffed up with conceit and understands nothing. He has an unhealthy craving for controversy and for quarrels about words, which produce envy, dissension, slander, evil suspicions, and constant friction among people who are depraved in mind and deprived of the truth, imagining that godliness is a means of gain. (1 Tim 6:2b – 5)
The two sides are clear here. Proper church order stands in marked contrast to the self-made and self-authorized teacher who gathers admirers with their checkbooks. The church that Christ is building and Timothy is called to serve has checks and balances. It’s not “Timothy’s church” or “Timothy’s ministry,” but Christ’s, built on the foundation of the apostles.
Paul stresses the point that “I did not receive [the gospel] from any man, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ” (Gal 1:12). After this revelation, he adds, “I did not immediately consult with anyone” — not even the apostles in Jerusalem; only after three years in Arabia and then back to Damascus did he visit Peter and stay with him for two weeks (1:16 – 18). Eventually, this former persecutor was accepted by all of the apostles in Jerusalem as called directly by Jesus, as they were.
Yet Paul’s calling is qualitatively different from Timothy’s, and you see this in the contrast between the passage in Galatians 1 and the exhortation he gives to his apprentice. He tells Timothy that he is simply to pass on to others what he has received from Paul the apostle, to keep the deposit rather than add to it, to teach it to other men who will carry on the work. The super-apostles boasted of a “higher knowledge” (gnō sis) than the apostles’ doctrine, seeking to reinvent a gospel more “relevant” to Greeks. But Paul warns, “O Timothy, guard the deposit entrusted to you. Avoid the irreverent babble and contradictions of what is falsely called ‘knowledge,’ for by professing it some have swerved from the faith” (1 Tim 6:20 – 21). Unlike the apostles, Timothy is not called immediately and directly by Jesus Christ, but through the ministry of the church. He is answerable to the presbytery — or council of elders — that ordained him (4:14). Timothy is not an apostle; he is serving in the vanguard of the ordinary ministry that will continue after the extraordinary ministry of the apostles.
Notice again the contrast we have encountered before. On one side is the self-ordained “wandering star,” who gathers fans eager to hear the latest thing, especially if it flatters their own self-love (2 Tim 3:1 – 9). Ranging beyond his competence, he introduces new speculations that bring controversy and rivalry. He is all over the map, taking hapless victims with him on his ambitious journey toward the sun.
Then there is Timothy, who is an ordinary minister accountable to ordinary elders, who is simply supposed to “guard the good deposit entrusted to [him]” (2 Tim 1:14) and “fight the good fight of faith” (1 Tim 6:12) with “steadfastness” (6:11). The church is apostolic, not because it claims a continuing apostolic office, but because it proclaims and guards the apostolic doctrine and discipline. It’s not his amazing charisma, leadership skills, or even out-of-the-park teaching ability that matters. In fact, the more he tries to distinguish himself, the more division he will bring to the church. Rather, without ever crossing his fingers behind his back, he is called simply to remain faithful to his ordination vows: “the good confession in the presence of many witnesses” (1 Tim 6:12). In his instruction to Timothy, then, Paul lays out the contrast by emphasizing the need to be content with the ordinary means of grace that God has provided through the church, not giving into senseless desires, youthful lusts, and selfish ambition.
What is the takeaway from this? What does it say to us today? I believe it means that we desperately need more Timothys and a lot fewer would-be Pauls in the church. We need to wean ourselves away from identifying particular churches as “So-And-So’s church,” from identifying the church with gifted speakers and charismatic leaders. I once heard an associate minister at a prominent church say that his entire mission was “to protect Pastor X’s ministry.” While this may sound humble, it is arrogant for us to speak of the church and the ministry as belonging to anyone other than Jesus Christ.
Even in Reformed circles to which I belong, there can be a tendency to gather around teachers, to invoke famous authors from the past against living pastors and elders who teach and watch over us, and to prefer theology conferences and teaching media (yes, even the White Horse Inn) to the ordinary, week-in-and-week-out instruction in God’s Word.
Others advance a “Moses Model of Ministry.” Beginning as a rebellion against formal structures and church offices (even membership), such groups eventually evolve into a virtually papal hierarchy. Still others identify their leader as an apostle, and internal criticism is rebuffed with the warning, “Touch not the Lord’s anointed.” Some of these teachers may be closer to Paul in their message, but they are closer to the super-apostles in their ministry.
All of these models overlook the qualitative difference between the extraordinary ministry of the apostles and the ordinary ministry of those who followed them. There are no living prophets or apostles today — in Rome, in Texas, in California, or anywhere else. Their extraordinary ministry laid the foundation (1 Cor 3:10 – 11; Eph 2:20) on which the ordinary ministers build up the church (1 Cor 3:12 – 15; Eph 4:11 – 14).
Many examples could be drawn from history to make the point that people we consider heroes (like Paul) became “heroic” by seeking someone or something other than heroism. Their success is due to the extent to which they attached people to Christ instead of themselves. It is ordinary needs of others that keeps them going, against all odds. They are not interested in making headlines for a cause, but in particular people with whom they come into contact. Whatever success they attained was the result of countless decisions and acts that many of us would consider too ordinary to keep our interest. Perpetual innovation and a craving for success itself would never have allowed these people to become who, by God’s grace, they were.
The rest of us are people whom one will never hear or read about in the newspaper or the annals of church history. We know less about Timothy and nothing about most of the faithful shepherds who have passed that sacred baton from generation to generation. Yet even today many of these pastors and elders are going about their daily tasks that are no less mundane and no less important for those around them. They are doing precisely what they are supposed to do, right where they are.
In Matthew 25:31 – 46, Jesus speaks about the separation of the sheep and the goats at the last judgment. Two things stand out in this glimpse that Jesus gives us of the day of the Lord. First, notice the works that the sheep did (and the goats failed to do). Anticipating the approaching persecution, Jesus says that the sheep visited their brothers and sisters in prison, gave them water, and clothed them. It is not exactly the global magic that we would expect, but these ordinary kindnesses reveal their faith.
The second thing we should notice is that the goats question where they may have seen Jesus doing these things.63 Now these are the sorts of things that the world might take seriously. Yet Jesus says, “Depart from me.” They skipped the little things and took refuge in their own spiritual ambition. By contrast, when Jesus commends the sheep for their seemingly slight and invisible faithfulness, instead of replying in self-defense, “Lord did we not. . . ?” they reply, “Lord, when did we. . . ?” The sheep do not even remember the deeds for which they are commended.
Idolizing Our Leaders
The writer to the Hebrews exhorts, “Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith” (Heb 13:7). So there is respect — even reverence — for their office and the weighty ministry that they carry out. But the focus is on the word of God that they spoke, the outcome of their steadfastness, and their faith — not on their personality or skills as such.
As late as the fourth century, theologians of such stature as Jerome and Ambrose could point out that presbyters (pastors and elders) were “all alike of equal rank” in the apostolic era.64 “Before attachment to persons in religion was begun at the instigation of the devil, the churches were governed by the common consent of the elders.”65
In the East, church leaders warned that any assertion of one bishop’s primacy over all others would constitute an act of schism. In fact, the sixth-century bishop of Rome, Gregory the Great, expressed offense at being addressed by a bishop as “universal pope”:
. . . a word of proud address that I have forbidden. . . . None of my predecessors ever wished to use this profane word [“universal”]. . . . But I say it confidently, because whoever calls himself “universal bishop” or wishes to be so called, is in his self-exaltation Antichrist’s precursor, for in his swaggering he sets himself before the rest.66
Tragically, Gregory’s successors didn’t follow his advice. Eventually, they did claim this title of “proud address,” and others besides.
But leadership problems are hardly unique to the Roman Catholic church. Ironically, radical Protestant sects are typically born as an eruption of supposed liberation from formal offices and structures of mutual accountability and quickly cool into corporations with a charismatic figure calling the shots. In charismatic and Pentecostal circles, successive waves of revival — characterized as “fresh moves of the Spirit” — disturb steady growth with perpetual Moses figures and new apostles. “I am of Paul,” “I am Apollos,” “I am of Peter”: this rivalry becomes as obvious in Protestant circles as in Roman Catholicism today.
Even in the first Great Awakening, a pastor who did not support the movement and encourage members to attend the meetings was suspect. Many pastors were for that reason denounced as lukewarm or even unconverted. Every purported revival leaves rivalries and factions in its wake, with parties divided over which leader is truly the Lord’s anointed. Even in circles closer to my own, I hear noted pastors identifying themselves as a leader of a “tribe.” According to the apostles, tribalism is the sinful disorder that follows in ambition’s wake.
In Lutheran and Reformed churches, we are divided less over movements and leaders than by schools and scholars. At their best, our Reformed and Presbyterian churches unite around the biblical teaching summarized by the ecumenical creeds, confessions, and catechisms and require mutual submission of equal pastors and elders to local and broader assemblies. Individual officers do not make unilateral decisions; they are made by common consent as a body. Nevertheless, we find it so easy to impose on each other our own extra-confessional positions and, especially in the internet age, find it easier sometimes to prosecute pastors in blogs than in these face-to-face assemblies. For some (both officers and other members), no church seems to satisfy their personal ambition, under the cloak of doctrinal purity. Regardless of public vows of membership they have made, they break fellowship and ride off into the sunset — perhaps leaving intentional landmines of dissension to explode after they are gone.
There is something distinctive — and, to some extent, distinctively American — about the penchant for rivalries and factions. It is not even the disputed views that interest us as much as it is the line drawing. As C. S. Lewis observed, we all want to be in the “inner ring,” like the cool kids at school. It’s collective narcissism. We love to divide over various formulations and to form caucuses. Blogging only adds fuel to the fire. Something happens even to decent people when they can hide behind the computer screen. Issues worth discussing and even debating soon congeal into parties. At that point, good conversations are thwarted by self-appointed umpires who censure the slightest departure from their own opinions.
Increasingly, we prefer to lynch fellow shepherds via social media than to submit to each other and address concerns face to face in private or in church courts — doing everything “decently and in order” (1 Cor 14:40). Our soul is too noble, our insight too keen, and our vision too soaring to be confined within the boundaries of a communion. Some will not bend their opinions to the common consent of the church; others will not limit what they think everyone should believe to that common confession. Some abandon the church altogether, while others make their own little corner in it for a private club.
When we leave the great sea of Christian communion to colonize our own rivers and shorelines, the party we lead becomes captive to our own narrow interpretations, views, and plans. Timothy was accountable to a council of elders to help keep him on track. Yet accountability is something that people, especially in my generation and younger, find difficult to accept in concrete terms.
Jesus did not establish a movement, a tribe, or a school, but a church. Whether our divisive ambition is determined by extraordinary ministers, scholars, or movements, it is completely out of step with “the pattern of the sound words” that is held humbly and guarded as a “good deposit” (see 2 Tim 1:13 – 14) that we all embrace because it is taught explicitly by the prophets and apostles as the ambassadors of Jesus Christ.
Reining In versus Reigning In Ambition
Ministers are not kings but servants. They die or move on, and they are replaced by someone else called to carry on the baton. It’s about the ministry, not the minister. If unfaithful to their vows, they undergo a private trial of fellow pastors and elders. They may appeal the judgment to a broader assembly, but finally they have to submit to God’s will expressed through the church. In other words, it is Christ’s church, not ours. He wrote the constitution and he rules by his Word and Spirit, through the pastors and elders he gave us as gifts.
The New Testament prescribes an order in which pastors and elders are equal and accountable to each other in local and broader assemblies. As we see in Paul’s encouragement to Timothy, ordinary pastors are called and replaced through a process of discernment in the church. The minister comes and goes, but the ministry endures — determined by the authority of Scripture rather than by the effectiveness or ingenuity of those who bear the office.
Part of our problem is that we’ve been shaped by a culture that is losing any sense of respect for office, even in secular affairs. In the past, office was distinguished from persons. In spite of one’s view of the polities or the personal character of the president, he would always be referred to as “President So-and-So” or at least “Mr. So-and-So.” Yet on the left and the right today, that is no longer customary. Even in elementary school, teachers are often called by their given name — or by their last name.
In many churches, the title “Pastor” has dropped out of ordinary conversation. At first, this seemed motivated by a desire to take pastors off of their pedestal. Yet in fact, it has the opposite effect. When we called them “Pastor,” we were acknowledging that the office mattered, even if we weren’t inclined to seek him out as a golfing partner. He could come or go and the ministry would go on, because it is not his ministry but Christ’s.
But now there is tremendous pressure placed on pastors to be persons we like. We go to a particular church because we really connect with Jim. We tell people that we go to “Jim’s church.” We love Jim’s ministry as if it were his personal base of influence rather than Christ’s ministry that he shares with every other pastor. He’s the kind of guy I could hang out with. Of course, I might soon discover that I can’t actually hang out with Jim. I may never even see him at my house, making a visit to check on how my family and I are growing in Christ. In some cases, the sheep have never even met their shepherd. His person is so great that he cannot carry out his office. Then, if he falls, my faith may be shattered.
Compare this with the words of one of the Reformed confessions. Because “the preaching of the Word of God is the Word of God . . . the Word itself which is preached is to be regarded, not the minister that preaches; for even if he be evil and a sinner, nevertheless the Word of God remains still true and good.”67 Of course, the person of the preacher matters. An evil pastor is, well, an evil pastor and should be removed. Nevertheless, he doesn’t speak to us in his person but in his office. If it were to turn out that he never believed a word of it himself, his preaching of the Word, the baptisms he performed, and the Supper he regularly dispensed remain valid. They never were his personal words or sacramental actions, but Christ’s.
Pastors may have some wonderful things to say, some interesting cultural insights, and some personal stories to make us feel connected to them. But in their office they are no longer private persons but Christ’s ambassadors. Through this office assigned to them, God himself judges, justifies, and commands. Similarly, elders rule and deacons serve on Christ’s behalf — not in their persons, but in assembly as office bearers.
Only Christ Has a Legacy
Timothy was to preach the Word and administer the sacraments to the same people he guided personally along with the elders. Paul never encouraged Timothy to contemplate his personal “legacy.” There were no instructions about a succession plan. After all, he would be succeeded by those who, like him, were trained, tested, and ordained by the church’s officers in assembly and most likely not selected single-handedly by Timothy.
It may come at first as a rebuke for us, especially as pastors, to hear that we have no legacy. It is Christ’s legacy that he put into effect by his death (Matt 26:28; Heb 9:16 – 18) and dispenses from heaven by his Word and Spirit (Eph 4:7 – 13). In fact, in Ephesians 4 the pastors and teachers are “Christ’s gift” (4:7). It is the Father’s inheritance, won by Christ on behalf of his coheirs. We come and go, but the legacy keeps on being dispersed. The rebuke turns to comfort as we realize that it is Christ’s church, that he is building it, and that we have the privilege simply of passing out the gifts for a while.
One example of the tendency to shift our focus from the ministry to the ministers, I believe, is the proliferation of multi-site churches. I am not in any way suggesting that those who favor a multi-site model of ministry are guilty of reckless ambition. I take it for granted that they are motivated by mission and would agree heartily with much else that I’ve argued here. My concern, however, is that the model is more susceptible to a greater focus on the minister than on the ministry.
Proponents define the multi-site church as “one church meeting in multiple locations.” “A multi-site church shares a common vision, budget, leadership, and board.”68 Generally speaking, from a central location the main preaching/teaching pastor delivers a message that is then broadcast by video link-up to other sites. At these other sites there may be local fellowship, but most ministry decisions are made, so to speak, “at the top.” Clearly, the ministry is concentrated ultimately in the movement’s main founder and leader.
Such a pattern runs against the grain of the incarnation. It is not virtual presence but a real presence that Christ gives us when he speaks and acts among us. He did not remain in heaven while writing messages in the sky or on giant screens. He sent prophets in his name. Then, in the fullness of time, he came down himself — assuming our flesh. “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27, italics added). If the Good Shepherd knows us by name, shouldn’t his undershepherds? The technologies we use are not indifferent. They say something about the message itself.
A second problem is “itinerancy.” It means a state of traveling from place to place. One of the concerns in the Reformation was that church leaders — especially bishops and archbishops — were not expected to actually preach, teach, or oversee a local church with a body of elders. Rather, they presided over the cathedral, which encompassed all of the local churches. The Church of England retained bishops, but its reformers insisted that bishops actually exercise their ministry in person at a local parish. This didn’t mean that pastors could not exchange pulpits on occasion or speak at conferences, but it did mean that their calling as a minister depended on a specific call to a local church.
What is interesting is that the greatest degree of independence of bishops or ministers from the local church arose not in Roman Catholic or High Church traditions, but in evangelicalism. With the Great Awakening in Britain and America, ministers could work freely and unimpaired outside the “system” of mutual submission. John Wesley famously declared in his Journal (May 28, 1739), “The world is my parish.”
Perhaps this is the best time to put my cards on the table. I do not expect everyone to agree with my presbyterian convictions, but I offer them for consideration because I am convinced that they are biblical. To state the position briefly, this system of government is neither hierarchical nor democratic but covenantal (federal or representative). Clearly, Scripture teaches that besides ministers who preach there are elders who rule and deacons who serve (Exod 24:9; Acts 14:23; 1 Tim 5:17; Titus 1:5; Jas 5:14; 1 Pet 5:1; Rev 4:4). Elderled government is clearly attested by the apostles, along with qualifications for holding this office (1 Tim 3:1 – 13). Pastors and elders are “worthy of double honor,” though for that reason, “Do not be hasty in the laying on of hands” (1 Tim 5:17, 22). So important was this to Paul that he could remind Titus, “This is why I left you in Crete, so that you might put what remained into order, and appoint elders in every town as I directed you” (Titus 1:5); this was followed by a list of their qualifications (1:6 – 9).
Whereas the apostles were called immediately and directly by Jesus in person and the whole world was indeed their parish, ordinary pastors are tested, ordained, and called to particular churches by the presbytery. It is striking that when Paul defends his office, he emphasizes the point that he did not receive it from the church or any of its leaders, but from Christ himself. Yet he reminds Timothy to take confidence in the gift he was given when the presbytery laid hands on him (1 Tim 4:14).
Thus, there are no apostles today, but ordinary pastors who shepherd particular churches together with the elders. Pastors cannot rule independently from the body of elders. Therefore, the ruling body in a local church consists not of clergy but of lay people.
At the Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15), representative elders were sent from the various churches to decide the matter of Gentile inclusion. Repeatedly the delegates are referred to as “the apostles and the elders.” So even in the days of the apostles, authority was shared with the elders. Yet we read that “the whole church” came to agreement, through these representatives sent by each church. James and Peter spoke, but “the apostles and the elders” arrived at their decision by common consent. Peter was never singled out as possessing unique authority. Yet once the consensus was reached, it was a decision binding on all the churches. “Then it seemed good to the apostles and the elders, with the whole church, to choose men from among them and send them to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas” (15:22). Wherever they went, “they delivered the letter” to the churches (15:30). “As they went on their way through the cities, they delivered to them for observance the decisions [dogmata] that had been reached by the apostles and elders who were in Jerusalem. So the churches were strengthened in the faith, and they increased in numbers daily” (Acts 16:4 – 5).
Therefore, each local church was considered “the church,” but only as it was in communion with the other churches. Pastors and elders met for mutual admonition and encouragement as well as to make decisions on behalf of the churches they represented. Cases could even be appealed to these broader assemblies, all the way to a general synod such as the one in Jerusalem. The ancient fathers confirm that this common consent of pastors and elders, in local and broader assemblies, had been the apostolic form of church government
As Jerome observed in the fifth century, the early churches were governed by pastors and elders together; it was only when ungodly ambition arose in the church that pastors jockeyed for greater positions of authority. Even this church father in Rome pointed out that “bishop” and “elder” were interchangeable terms.69 Eventually, however, moderators of the presbytery became bishops and later one bishop — the bishop of Rome — claimed primacy. The Christian East as well as the later Reformers saw this as nothing less than an act of schism.
As noted above, advocates define a multi-site church as “one church meeting in multiple locations,” sharing “a common vision, budget, leadership, and board.”70 Yet what they do not share are local pastors and elders. Even if some install elders in each location, the pastor is the gifted teacher whom they know only by his weekly appearance on the screen. Regardless of intentions, the medium ensures that he can never be the pastor, but only a celebrity teacher. By being the “pastor” of many churches, he is actually the pastor of none. Furthermore, it is his board that has the last word. This model seems far more hierarchical than the others it rebelled against. It also seems more likely to foster the temptation that all of us have toward ambition more than service, despite the best motives. Christ’s global garden grows concretely only in local plots.
In all sorts of ways (by no means limited to the multi-site approach), churches today often reflect the influence of business models, with the pastor as the CEO or chairman of the board. Some large churches have been faithful from generation to generation because they have been intentional about appointing enough elders to oversee smaller groups. I have also seen plenty of small churches that are ingrown and do not foster outreach and fellowship.
Yet the pressures on the pastor — as well as elders and deacons — can be great. With the multiplication of ministers on staff, it is easier to gravitate toward a more hierarchical business model. And it is less likely that the sheep will come into physical contact with their shepherd when they are consumers of a service that a CEO oversees.
“Fear Not, Little Flock”
I think that if Jesus were to return today, he might tell us to stop taking ourselves so seriously. “I will build my church and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt 16:18, italics added). The gates of hell are no small matter, at least for us. We’re quite anxious. We have to do something about this (this being whatever we’re shocked by at present). America is in moral free-fall. The media are persecuting us. Churches seem to be losing their way. Radical Islam is on the march — not to mention the perfect storm of AIDS, famine, and war that has taken millions of lives in Africa. Every time we turn on the news, our compassion or anger is aroused — to the point that we become numb to it. And people in the pews are numb to it, especially when the church places still more burdens on their shoulders.
This burden of extraordinary impact weighs heavily, first, on the shoulders of pastors. But here is the good news: it is not your ministry, church, or people. You do not have to create and protect a personal legacy, but simply to distribute and guard Christ’s legacy entrusted to his apostles. You don’t have to bind Satan and storm the gates of hell. Christ has already done this. We’re just sweeping in behind him to unlock the prison doors. You don’t have to live the gospel, be the gospel, do the gospel, and lead the troops to redeem culture and reconcile the world to God. We are not building a kingdom that can be convulsed with violence like other realms, but we are “receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken” (Heb 12:28, italics added).
The disciples surely had reason to worry about the world’s opposition. It was a little flock, and their King did not allow them to carry weapons. However, Jesus simply said to them and says now to us, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32).
They had less trouble believing that they were a “little flock” than do we. We’re still fairly invested in the vanishing legacy of Christendom. Many among us can remember when the church had considerable cultural and political clout. Now our solemn political pronouncements and moral sentiments are largely ignored. Yet once we are really convinced that Jesus Christ has already secured the victory of Satan, death, and hell, we can take a deep breath and be the “little flock” that he has already redeemed, doing what he has called us to do. It is marvelously liberating no longer to imagine that we have to build or preserve a kingdom that Christ was not building in the first place.
Thus, the reason for taking seriously the New Testament principles of church order is not to create a formal hierarchy, but to guard against informal ones. “For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake” (2 Cor 4:5). If Paul the apostle could say this, then surely ordinary ministers cannot claim any more for themselves. The treasure is the gospel ministry, not the minister. The weakness of it all is essential to keeping our focus where it belongs. “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Cor 4:7).
Exercise
1. How do we idolize our leaders today — in the wider culture, but especially in the church? Is there a tendency to raise them too high in our estimation and then to tear them down when they fail to satisfy our own ambitions?
2. How does Scripture call us to rein in ambition, both as leaders and followers?
3. We hear a lot in churches today about the pastor’s personal greatness, legacy, succession plans, and so forth. Do we put more emphasis today on ministers than on the ministry? If so, how?
4. What is the significance of Christ’s assurance to his “little flock”? What does this mean for the way we often talk about our kingdom-building activities?