JBTS 3.1 Compressed
JBTS 3.1 Compressed
Journal of
Biblical and
Theological
Studies
VOLUME 3 | ISSUE 1
1 Current Issues in Pastoral Theology: 80 Pastor Theologians, the Gospel, and the
An Editorial Introduction Ministry of Racial Conciliation
Justin L. McLendon Benjamin D. Espinoza
9 Elder as Shepherd: Implicit Use of the 93 Light from the Third Great Awakening: Harold Ockenga
Shepherd Metaphor by the Apostle Paul and the Call to Future Pastor-Theologians
Josh Branum Owen Strachan
19 Theological Preaching and Preaching Through 111 Pastor-Scholar: The Pastor Theologian
Theology: The Priority of the Pastor-Theologian and Scholarship
Gary L. Shultz Jr. Douglas Estes
31 Preaching Psalm 46 to the People of God Today 118 Pastoral Theology in a Missional Mode
Jonathan Master Michael W. Goheen
46 What Worship Leaders Need Their Pastors to Know: 139 Toward a Theology of Pastoral Care
A Call to Theological Leadership in Worship in a Missional Mode
Matthew Ward Andrew Zantingh
62 A Way Forward for Pastor-Apologists: 154 The Care of Souls: John Calvin’s
Navigating the Apologetic Method Debate Shepherding Ministry
Joshua D. Chatraw Marcus J. Serven
Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may
be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher.
Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 West 8th Avenue, Suite 3,
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Academic journals are often written by scholars for other scholars. They are technical
in nature, assuming a robust knowledge of the field. There are fewer journals that
seek to introduce biblical and theological scholarship that is also accessible to
students. JBTS seeks to provide high-level scholarship and research to both scholars
and students, which results in original scholarship that is readable and accessible.
Since JBTS is a broadly evangelical journal there will often be a variety of views
that are represented that align with the evangelical Christian faith within each journal
issue. The views expressed by contributors are not necessarily the views of the editors
or the institutions that they represent.
Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies
EXECUTIVE EDITOR
Justin L. McLendon (Grand Canyon University)
EDITORS
General Editor: Daniel S. Diffey (Grand Canyon University)
Managing Editor: Ryan A. Brandt (Grand Canyon University)
Managing Editor: Justin L. McLendon (Grand Canyon University)
ASSOCIATE EDITORS
Old Testament: Adam Howell (Boyce College)
New Testament: Channing Crisler (Anderson University)
Philosophical and Theological Studies: Joshua Farris (Houston Baptist University)
EDITORIAL BOARD
Paul Allen (Concordia University, Montreal, Canada)
Uche Anizor (Talbot School of Theology, Biola University)
Benjamin Blackwell (Houston Baptist University)
Simon Burton (University of Warsaw)
Byron G. Curtis (Geneva College)
Dan DeWitt (Cedarville University)
Matthew Emerson (Oklahoma Baptist University)
Kevin Giles (Retired Scholar, Melbourne, Australia)
J. R. Gilhooly (Cedarville University)
Steven Guest (South Asia Institute of Advanced Christian Studies)
Greg Lanier (Reformed Theological Seminary, Orlando)
David R. Maxwell (Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, MO)
Clinton Ohlers (Trinity Evangelical Divinity School)
Paul Raabe (Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, MO)
John Mark N. Reynolds (The Saint Constantine School and King’s College)
Dave Schreiner (Indiana Wesleyan University)
Bethany Sollereder (University of Oxford)
Owen Strachan (Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary)
Brad D. Strawn (Fuller Theological Seminary)
Daniel von Wachter (International Academy of Philosophy, Gamprin, Liechtenstein)
[JBTS 3.1 (2018): 1–8]
Justin teaches full-time at Grand Canyon University and is a Managing Editor of JBTS
This special issue of the Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies features articles
exploring current issues in pastoral theology. The articles within this issue address
academic and ecclesial concerns across the evangelical spectrum. In keeping with
the mission of JBTS—to relay content that is original and yet accessible—this issue
contains articles uniquely formulated to speak to seminary students, busy ministers,
and scholars academically engaged in the broad field of pastoral theology. This
issue includes an even selection of articles from scholars working within various
academic institutions, in addition to articles from pastors engaged in the trenches
of everyday pastoral ministry. In sum, this issue offers a distinct set of voices from
varied backgrounds, ministry methodologies, and denominational alliances.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
to being a catch all term for disciplines which do not easily fall within the greater
discipline of practical theology.
In other words, the discipline of practical theology includes subjects as broad
as homiletics, counseling, and pastoral theology, and according to Elaine Graham,
practical theology goes so far as to include “interactions with a range of non-
theological disciplines, such as the modern psychologies, social and cultural theory,
anthropology, and philosophy.”2 Within this expansive view of practical theology,
one could make the discipline of practical theology apply to nearly any other field,
particularly those centered upon human interactions. On the other hand, pastoral
theology, as a sub-discipline of practical theology, includes practices such as
general pastoral ministry, prayer, discipleship and numerous other practices most
often associated with the specific duties of ecclesial ministry. In current discourse,
preaching is viewed both as a sub discipline of practical theology (homiletics), and a
specific duty of pastoral theology.3
Complicating matters further, some theologians use the term pastoral
theology as the larger umbrella term rather than the common usage of practical
theology. For example, Alister McGrath follows this line of thinking in his helpful
but oversimplified distinctions of the theological branches.4 McGrath considers
the “architecture” of theology to include biblical studies, systematic theology,
philosophical theology, pastoral theology, and church history. Christian theology has
a “strongly pastoral dimension” to it, says McGrath, and this important dimension is
“generally inadequately reflected in the academic discussion of theology.”5 Citing the
Puritans as the best examples of those unwilling to distinguish rich theological depth
with pastoral applicability, McGrath notes the historic ministries of Richard Baxter
and Jonathan Edwards as examples of a rich theological expression committed to the
life of preaching, worship, prayer, and pastoral care.
Other theologians speak of practical theology and pastoral theology by their
close relationship to systematic theology. Ray Anderson suggests, “the discipline
of practical theology extends systematic theology into the life and praxis of the
Christian community.”6 John Frame goes further, suggesting that practical theology
is “a department of systematic theology,” and practical theology “asks a particular
2. Elaine Graham, “Practical Theology,” in Cambridge Dictionary of Christian Theology, eds. Ian
A. McFarland, David A. S. Fergusson, Karen Kilby, et. al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2011), Accessed January 5, 2018, ProQuest ebrary.
3. For further reading on these distinctions, see Ray S. Anderson, The Shape of Practical Theol-
ogy: Empowering Ministry with Theological Praxis (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2001), 23–34;
Pete Ward, Introducing Practical Theology: Mission, Ministry, and the Life of the Church (Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017), 1–7.
4. Alister E. McGrath, Historical Theology: An Introduction to the History of Christian Thought,
2nd ed. (West Sussex, UK: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), 4–9.
5. Ibid., 7.
6. Ray S. Anderson, The Shape of Practical Theology: Empowering Ministry with Theological
Praxis (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2001), 23.
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question of Scripture, among the other questions of systematics. That question is: how
should we communicate the Word of God? Thus, it deals with preaching, teaching,
evangelism, church-planting, missions, media communications, and so on.”7 Frame’s
definition of practical theology encompasses the usual slate of practices within its
field, but his insistence on the discipline’s close relationship to systematic theology
mirrors a growing trend to view pastoral theology with the nomenclature of applied
systematic theology.8
In this issue, we have chosen to use the term pastoral theology because of its acute
focus on the qualities and duties of the church’s primary theological communicator,
the pastor. The eleven articles in this issue seek to address critical issues of pastoral
significance both broadly and specifically, while relating these concerns to students,
local church pastors, and the scholars who work specifically within the flourishing
discipline of pastoral theology.
7. John Frame, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Christian Belief (Philipsburg, NJ: P&R
Publishing, 2013), 9. Emphasis in original. Additionally, John Feinberg makes a similar connection
in his editorial introduction to the volumes within the Foundations of Evangelical Theology Series,
where he states, “systematic theology is not just for the understanding. It must apply to life, and it
must be lived.” See John Feinberg, “Series Introduction,” in Stephen J. Wellum, God the Incarnate
Son: The Doctrine of Christ, Foundations of Evangelical Theology (Wheaton: Crossway, 2016), 19.
8. See Pete Ward’s terminology of “Reembracing Applied Theology” in Ward, Introducing Practi-
cal Theology, 3–7.
9. Alister E. McGrath, “Theology and the Futures of Evangelicalism,” in The Futures of Evangeli-
calism, edited by Craig Bartholomew, Robin Parry, and Andrew West (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2003),
16–17.
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commitment to ongoing learning and study, for often theological challenges must
be confronted by pastors with open Bibles rather than theologians with updated
CVs. Pastors are on the front lines of theological warfare each week as they occupy
their pulpits and throughout the week as they use Scripture to address a myriad
of practical concerns. In God’s kind providence, he has provided an abundance of
quality seminaries for those whom he calls to vocational ministry, and the best of
these seminaries urge their graduates to keep their hunger alive for biblical and
theological studies well after they graduate.
McGrath’s lighthearted joke also speaks to a second conversation among
scholars and pastors, often a result of the lingering residue of twentieth century
pragmatism. Specifically, what is the relationship between pastor theologians and
professional academic theologians? If pastors quit purchasing theological books upon
their seminary graduation, can they in any real sense be considered theologians?
But the blame lies within the academic community as well, where some scholars
have worked to sharply distinguish their work from the work of the local church.
John Webster lamented this tendency, stating: “The clear distinctions which some
members of the academic theological guild draw between proclamation and critical
reflection are part of the pathology of modern theology: our forebears would have
been distressed by the way in which theology has succumbed to the standardization of
discourse in the academy and the consequent exclusion of certain modes of Christian
speech.”10 Just a casual glance into church history validates Webster’s emphasis, for
one can hardly bifurcate pastor and theologian when observing the ministries of the
Reformers, the Puritans, and many of their theological heirs in subsequent decades,
theological traditions, or continents.
Over the last few years, a surplus of books, conferences, and ministries have
emerged which seek to recover ground in this important conversation. These voices
seek to ground pastoral ministry within a theological framework rather than a
pragmatic one. For example, Kevin Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan, in The Pastor as
Public Theologian, urge pastors to view their ministerial role as the church’s primary
theologian.11 Todd Wilson and Gerald Hiestand produced two recent books calling
upon pastors to “resurrect and ancient vision” and embrace their roles as pastor
10. John Webster, Word and Church: Essays in Christian Dogmatics (London: Bloomsbury, 2016),
211.
11. Kevin Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan, The Pastor as Public Theologian: Reclaiming a Lost
Vision (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2015).
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12. Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson, The Pastor Theologian: Resurrecting an Ancient Vision
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015). Also, Hiestand and Wilson followed with an edited volume that
addresses the pastor theologian from the perspective of church leadership constructs. See Gerald
Hiestand and Todd Wilson, Becoming a Pastor Theologian: New Possibilities for Church Leadership
(Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2016).
13. For example, see the developments of this emphasis in Daniel L. Akin and R. Scott Pace,
Pastoral Theology (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2017), 1–16.
14. G. C. Berkouwer, A Half Century of Theology: Movements and Motives, ed. and trans. Lewis
Smedes (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 216.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
The following article by Jonathan Master focuses on the importance of
preaching the Psalms. Master specifically focuses on Psalm 46 where he offers four
recommendations for effective preaching in general, with emphasis in preaching the
Psalms. Master understands preaching as a means of grace God specifically ordained
for both the evangelization of the nations and for the building up of the church and this
framework buttresses his emphases throughout his contribution. In the second part
of his article, Master provides a sample sermon on Psalm 46 where he implements
each of his four recommendations.
Matthew Ward provides the fourth article in this issue. Ward writes to address
the role and importance of worship leaders to the theological leadership of the church’s
worship. Ward provides practical guidance on the critical role worship ministry has
in articulating a contextualized theology within local churches. He provides helpful
instruction for pastor theologians considering ways to be more thoughtful with the
theological issues of a church’s worship.
Joshua Chatraw’s article shifts the conversation from the pastor’s role as
shepherd, his identity as a preaching theologian, and the importance of a healthy
worship contextualized with theological reflection to articles specifically addressing
the wider roles of the pastor theologian. Chatraw addresses the crucial subject of
apologetics for pastor theologians. He helpfully summarizes the four common
apologetic approaches and discusses their potential strengths and weaknesses.
Chatraw then helps readers by offering a way forward for pastor-apologists through
a person-specific approach.
Benjamin Espinoza’s article calls for pastor theologians to rethink common
approaches to racial reconciliation within broader evangelicalism. Espinoza believes
pastors occupy a critical role in forging new paths of progress in this crucial area. In
his article, Espinoza calls for pastor theologians to capture and project a vision and
plan for developing a rich ministry of racial reconciliation. He calls upon pastors to
situate racial reconciliation as a gospel issue rather than merely a political one. He
then urges pastor theologians to seek an ecclesial response worthy of the gospel.
Espinoza believes pastor theologians must be the agents of racial conciliation in both
ecclesial and academic spaces.
Owen Strachan’s article focuses upon the contributions of Harold Ockenga for
modern twenty-first century evangelicalism. Strachan believes Ockenga’s influential
pastoral ministry offers twenty-first century pastor theologians an example of a
richly theological pastorate, and a pulpit that majored in doctrine over storytelling
and sentimentality. Strachan offers five considerations for the rising generation of
shepherds of God’s flock, considerations that together urge the church to invest in
the doctrinal formation, personal courage, and theistic confidence of its pastors.
Douglas Estes follows with a helpful perspective on pastor theologians and
scholarship. Estes believes there is a critical need for pastor-scholars to serve the
Church by advancing theological knowledge. He advocates for a utilization of the
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written word to dialogue with an important part of modern society—scholars and
educated readers—through the form of scholarly discourse. For many Christians,
pastors are the only theologians whose written word will capture the attention of a
busy laity.
Michael Goheen provides an engaging article on the overall discipline of pastoral
theology. He advocates for a renewal of pastoral theology from a missional mode.
Goheen argues modern pastoral theology suffers from three primary assumptions
which cripple its witness. Goheen then sketches the missional turn in the 20th century
and notes its considerable impact beginning with ecclesiology, and then on theology
and leadership. Goheen’s understanding of mission provides a solid theological
foundation for the renewal of pastoral theology.
Andrew Zantingh’s article furthers Goheen’s thesis and shows its practical
development within pastoral care. Zantingh’s pastoral and academic background
provide the backdrop to this formulation of pastors as leaders of ecclesial discipleship.
He constructs theological contours reframing pastoral care in the missional mode and
offering a concrete example of this kind of pastoral care in action. Finally, Zantingh
sketches a dynamic approach to theological education to further equip pastors for the
missional pastoral care he advocates.
This issue concludes with Marcus Serven’s thorough examination of John
Calvin’s pastoral ministry. Serven believes Calvin has been misinterpreted, misread,
and misunderstood and a renewed interest in this giant of the faith is warranted for
effective pastoral care. Serven wants readers to know more of Calvin than his views
on the doctrines of election, predestination, and reprobation, or his pivotal role in the
prosecution of the arch-heretic Michael Servetus.
Serven demonstrates that Calvin was the preeminent pastor of Geneva during
the time of the Protestant Reformation. In his analysis, Serven presents Calvin as a
careful and effective shepherd of souls, and one whose theological studies formed
his pastoral work.
Each of these articles vary in scope, theological perspective, and audience.
Several articles address beginning and intermediate students seeking helpful
reflections on pastoral ministry. The opening articles on pastors as shepherds,
the role of theological preaching, how to preach the Psalms effectively, and the
critical relationship between pastors have with the worship ministries of the body
are intended to help students and pastors reflect deeply on each of these critical
pieces. Other articles seek to provide more helpful reflections upon the ongoing
conversations in recent scholarship regarding pastors as the public theologians of
ecclesial ministry. The contributors who offered perspectives specifically geared
toward pastor theologians sought to move the needle and add critical perspectives
on these expanding conversations. Other articles sought to reorient the discipline
of pastoral theology in hopes of providing a more robust identity to this critical
discipline in its missional obligations. Scholars within pastoral theology will find
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
each of these articles helpful and meaningful contributions to this flourishing field.
Finally, the article focusing John Calvin’s pastoral care essentially integrates the
highlights from each of the previous articles for Calvin’s pastoral ministry embodied
each of the emphases.
Contributors to this special issue provide students, pastors, and scholars fresh
perspectives for further discussion into the critical discipline of pastoral theology.
8
[JBTS 3.1 (2018): 9–18]
Josh Branum
Abstract: This paper analyzes the Pauline qualifications for eldership considering
the shepherd metaphor. In this analysis, the author argues that Paul presents
qualified elders as “good shepherds,” those of the utmost integrity, who are able
to manage the flock of God well. The shepherd metaphor is utilized throughout
both the Old and New Testaments, by various authors, and in a variety of contexts.
From a New Testament perspective, the shepherd metaphor is used most frequently
in reference to Jesus, but is later applied to elders. While one might expect the
Apostle Paul, the author of the so-called “Pastoral Epistles,” to make much use of
this metaphor, he only explicitly uses the shepherd metaphor on two occasions.
This seeming omission has led some to dismiss it as a central aspect of his teaching.
However, Paul demonstrates a heavy reliance on the shepherd metaphor implicitly,
particularly in the qualifications for eldership in the books of 1 Timothy and Titus.
Introduction
In church life, the presence of effective leadership determines the effectiveness of
everything that follows. Whether it is ministry programming, vision casting, or simply
day-to-day operations, everything within the church hinges on the effectiveness of its
leadership. In surveying the biblical texts, one discovers several themes and principles
related to leadership. One of the most prominent themes is the metaphor of the leader
as shepherd. The use of the shepherd metaphor finds its beginning in the Pentateuch,
although not as explicitly as one might expect. The imagery presented is not overly
metaphorical, but after being examined by later biblical authors, one discovers the
latent symbolism throughout the first five books of the Bible.1 Primarily, this imagery
is applied to God, as he is the one who leads his nation, Israel, through the wilderness.
The remaining books of the Old Testament, while replete with examples of human
shepherd leaders, continue to present God as the true shepherd of Israel. In like
1. Timothy S. Laniak, Shepherds After My Own Heart: Pastoral Traditions and Leadership in the
Bible, New Studies in Biblical Theology, (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2006), 78.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
manner, the New Testament establishes Jesus as the Good Shepherd. He is the one
who cares for the sheep and leads them because they know his voice (Jn 10:3). As was
God’s habit in the Old Testament, human agents were appointed to shepherd God’s
flock following Jesus’ resurrection (Jn 21:15–17).
With the flock of God growing in a new body called the “church,” it became
evident that new leaders must emerge to shepherd the people. Mark Dever notes, “As
with any gathered body of people, the church must be led.”2 Paul’s habit became to
install leadership in each of the churches he planted as soon as possible.3 As early
church history progressed, these church leaders evolved into New Testament eldership.
In discussing eldership, while one might expect the Apostle Paul, the author of the
so-called “Pastoral Epistles,” to make much use of this metaphor, he only explicitly
uses the shepherd metaphor on two occasions. This seeming omission has led some
to dismiss it as a central aspect of his teaching. However, Paul demonstrates a heavy
reliance on the shepherd metaphor implicitly, particularly in the qualifications for
eldership in the books of 1 Timothy and Titus. In the sections that follow, the shepherd
metaphor will be examined specifically from the passages that pertain to eldership.
The most important texts are Acts 20:28–31; Eph 4:11–16; and 1 Pet 5:1–4, as they
relate to pastoral calling, competency, and character.
2. Mark E. Dever, “The Church,” in A Theology for the Church, ed. Daniel L. Akin (Nashville: B
& H Academic, 2007), 796.
3. John S. Hammett, Biblical Foundations for Baptist Churches: A Contemporary Ecclesiology
(Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2005), 159.
4. Conrad Gempf, “Acts,” in New Bible Commentary: 21st Century Edition, ed. by D. A. Carson
(Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1994), Acts 20:13.
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shepherd. John Hammett indicates that solid biblical teaching is the means by which
the shepherd provides this protection.5
Second, the church is the flock of God, implying that ownership does not belong
to its human agents, but to Jesus Christ. He is the one who “obtained [it] with his own
blood” (Acts 20:28b). Leaders are called by God to shepherd his people, indicating
that the authority for their position rest in him. The most capable leader is simply
unqualified if he is not first called by God to serve. For the Ephesian elders, Paul
taught clearly that their shepherding role was only second to the role of Christ Jesus.
Through the Holy Spirit, he is the one who guides the church in appointing them
and who calls them to this task.6 Moreover, as followers of Jesus, elders must see
themselves as sheep primary, exercising authority on behalf of their Shepherd. Laniak
maintains, “Authority is a feature of the shepherd’s role, but one comprehensively
qualified by the reminder that elders are caring for the flock of God.…Humility [must
be] the distinguishing mark of their service.”7 Humble service generates from the
understanding that the flock of God is the flock of God, not man.
One final aspect of the necessity for proper leadership in this passage is
the requirement that leaders be on constant guard. In Acts 20:31, Paul exhorts,
“Therefore be alert, remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day
to admonish everyone with tears.” Paul had such concern for the Ephesian church
that he had warned them continually of false teaching for three years. His love for
them is demonstrated in the fact that his admonition had often come with tears.
Truly, love for the flock will demand constant oversight. As Gary Bredfeldt notes,
“Leaders cannot be lulled into a sense of complacency. They must be aware that they
are engaged in a battle for the truth.”8 Compassion and love define the mission of the
shepherd. Constant battling of false teaching proceeds from this type of heart. With
Christ as the model, elders shepherd the flock of God with an understanding of what
is at stake, that is, the souls of men (Heb 13:17).
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roles.9 Unfortunately, in many churches, the two roles have been distinguished as not
relating to one another. Instead, shepherding has been isolated to areas of pastoral care,
such as “pastoral visitation, personal counseling, and ministry in times of sickness
(see esp. James 5:14) and grief.”10 However, “[p]astoral care, though encompassing
more than teaching only, is predominately a matter of teaching.”11 In other words,
while critical areas of ministry, these matters do not coincide with Paul’s rationale for
church leaders. Rather, the verses that follow indicate the teaching purpose for these
leadership roles.
Church leaders were given by God “to equip the saints for the work 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” (Eph 4:12–13). Implicit within this passage is the
need for competent leadership. If church leaders are to “equip the saints for the work
of ministry,” then they must be capable of doing so. This responsibility connects
the aspects of calling and competency, since those called of God are also gifted by
God to lead.
Since verse 12 speaks of “building up the body”—that is, the church—it is
likely that the verses that follow refer only to work done by shepherd-teachers.12
Through the ministry of teaching, church leaders equip believers to possess a unified
biblical worldview and knowledge leading to sanctification.13 The work of the church
leaders connects vitally to the spiritual growth of believers. Turner reminds us that
“[w]hile the imagery so far could almost suggest that the church grows towards an
independent manhood like Christ’s, the switch of imagery at the end of v 15 reminds
the reader that Jesus is Lord (head) of the whole process, and the church is intended
to grow into more intimate union with him.”14 Shepherds serve the flock of God,
which exist for his glory and by his power (Col 1:15–20).
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J o s h B r a n u m . : E l d e r A s S h e p h e rd
So I exhort the elders among you, as a fellow elder and a witness of the
sufferings of Christ, as well as a partaker in the glory that is going to be
revealed: shepherd the flock of God that is among you, exercising oversight,
not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you, not for shameful
gain, but eagerly; not domineering over those in your charge, but being
examples to the flock. And when the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive
the unfading crown of glory.
This passage contains many similarities with the previous two discussed. For example,
both Acts 20:28 and 1 Pet 5:1 indicate Christ’s death on the cross as foundational
to the shepherding task. Peter and Paul understood that the gospel must influence
the manner of leadership within the church. Contrary to the corrupt false shepherds
described in the Old Testament, these shepherds must realize that their ultimate
service is to the chief Shepherd, and their final reward will come from him.15
Moreover, several qualifications are given in this passage, outlining character
traits that shepherds must possess. First, shepherds must serve willingly, “not under
compulsion” (1 Pet 5:2). This willingness speaks to the motivation of the shepherd,
whether he is truly able to serve in the way he is called. The only motivation
acceptable is a desire to serve the chief Shepherd in advancing the gospel and building
up his church.16 Second, Peter writes that elders must not approach shepherding for
“shameful gain,” or from the perspective of how they might benefit personally from
the sheep. This type of motivation would tempt elders to exploit the flock to secure
greater profit for themselves. Rather than feeding the flock through the word of
God, these shepherds would feed themselves from the flock.17 As Laniak observes,
“Feeding on the flock is a sign of predators, not shepherds.”18 The gospel motivates
shepherds to lay down everything for the sake of the flock.
15. David H. Wheaton, “1 Peter,” in New Bible Commentary: 21st Century Edition, ed. D. A.
Carson (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1994), 1 Pet 5:1.
16. Roger M. Raymer, “1 Peter” of The Bible Knowledge Commentary: An Exposition of the
Scriptures, ed. John F. Walvoord et al. (Wheaton: Victor, 1985), 2:855.
17. Cf. Ezek 34:7.
18. Laniak, Shepherds After My Own Heart, 233.
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as discussed above. Since the role of elder is often described using the shepherd
metaphor, these passages should be examined from that perspective.
Paul presents qualified elders as “good shepherds,” those of the utmost
integrity who can manage God’s flock well. The implicit use of the metaphor is clear
throughout these passages. For example, the term “overseer” in itself is analogous
to a shepherd tending his flock. He is the one who cares for the flock, watches
over the flock, and is ultimately responsible for its protection and wellbeing. This
concept is reinforced in the qualification to “manage his own household well” (1
Tim 3:4). Furthermore, the various qualifications related to character emphasize the
need for personal holiness in the life of the elder. Personal holiness distinguishes
true shepherds from false ones. Those shepherds who do not hold to the character
traits listed by Paul might use their position to abuse and take advantage of the
church, behavior that is stringently rebuked throughout Scripture using the shepherd
metaphor. Elders that do maintain these standards will also have credibility in their
teaching ministry, a unique responsibility attached to the position. Teaching is how
the elder “feeds” the flock of God, providing nourishment through the truths of
Scripture.19 Each of these areas will be discussed below, emphasizing the crucial
link between shepherding and eldership.
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with the standard practice of his day by holding leaders accountable for their personal
lives. There must be no distinction between church and personal life for those who
shepherd the flock of God.22
The second aspect of oversight is the ability of the elder to serve as God’s steward.
This qualification appears only in Titus and is clearly linked with oversight. In Tit
1:7, Paul contends, “For an overseer, as God’s steward, must be above reproach.”
The term translated “God’s steward” is οἰκονόμος (oikonomos), which denotes a
servant who manages the household on behalf of his master.23 Given the wealth of
responsibility that such a servant would have, it is of the utmost importance that
the master have full confidence in his loyalty as a subject.24 Overseers of the flock
of God must demonstrate absolute faithfulness to the Lord Jesus Christ. Moreover,
Lea and Griffin note, “The conjunction [“For”] (gar) which begins v. 7 indicates that
Paul was continuing his thought from v. 6 and actually making a logical connection
between his statements on the elder’s home life and the church.”25 This observation
validates the connection between oversight and shepherding. Bredfeldt also speaks
to a connection between oversight and shepherding, “In a real sense, biblical
shepherds—that is, the pastor-teachers of Ephesians 4:11—are stewards of the flock
of God. As such, biblical leaders have a sacred trust for which they will give an
account.”26 Before one can serve as a manager for God’s household, he must first
learn to “manage his own household well” (1 Tim 3:4).
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
that would allow the shepherd to serve the chief Shepherd well. The elder must have a
reputation that matches the position to which he is called, that models the example of
the one who called him. Moreover, a man of high character would serve as a worthy
example for his sheep, while at the same time being “well thought of by outsiders”
(1 Tim 3:7).28 Sanders comments, “The character of the elder should command the
respect of the unbeliever, inspire his confidence, and arouse his aspiration. Example
is much more potent than precept.”29 More than anything else, the elder must be filled
with the gospel to the extent that it is visible by those around him.30
Paul declares in 1 Tim 3:3 that the elder is “not a drunkard, not violent but
gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money.” These negative statements present
things that would be detrimental in the life of the elder, thus harmful to the sheep as
well. Paul states that an elder must not be addicted to alcohol, as it may lead to other
issues as well. Without question, “[a] leader cannot allow a secret indulgence that
would undermine public witness.”31 Though not because of drunkenness, David’s
“secret indulgence” demonstrates the principle behind it through its devastating
effects on his shepherd leadership. Shepherds are called to higher standard, one that
honors Jesus Christ and serves his flock well.
Moreover, it is interesting that a love for money is “a distinguishing feature of
the false teachers in Ephesus (1 Tim 6:5–10).”32 False teachers would not maintain the
same standard as true ones. Their lack of personal holiness illustrates the importance
of morality in shepherding. In combating such heresy, “[f]or a Christian leader to
have the same spiritual disease would be a fatal sickness for spreading the truth.”33
As illustrated in the lives of many Old Testament shepherds, the desire for personal
gain perverts the role of the shepherd. These false shepherds prey on the flock they
are called to lead and protect. Elders must instead follow the example of Christ,
who gave himself for the flock. In other words, selflessness is a hallmark quality for
New Testament eldership. Only from this perspective can an elder truly be called
a shepherd.
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J o s h B r a n u m . : E l d e r A s S h e p h e rd
it from other areas of church leadership, such as the role of deacon. Köstenberger
observes that this distinction “indicates that teaching—and the commensurate
authority—is to be a special prerogative and responsibility of overseers.”35 This trait
also corresponds to Paul’s connection of teaching with shepherding in other areas. In
Acts 20:28–31, Paul exhorted the Ephesian elders to oversee the flock of God with
the utmost care, being aware of the effects of false teaching. The qualification in 1
Tim 3:2, as well as Paul’s exhortation in Acts 20, “shows that an overseer needed the
ability both to explain Christian doctrine and to refute or oppose error.”36 Paul later
confirms this perspective in his letter to Titus, “He must hold firm to the trustworthy
word as taught, so that he may be able to give instruction in sound doctrine and
also to rebuke those who contradict it” (Tit 1:9). Elders must possess a solid biblical
foundation so that they might properly provide nourishment for the flock of God.
It must be noted that the teaching role has more to do with shepherding that
simply provision. Teaching is also how the shepherd leads the flock.37 With the
prevalence of false teaching, “[t]eachers lead when they teach in such a way as to
free learners by the power of the truth.”38 Moreover, this aspect of teaching should be
supported by the elder’s personal holiness. Following the shepherd requires trust on
behalf of the sheep (Jn 10:3–5). The flock must know that their shepherd is not only
teaching biblical truth, but is being personally affected by it as well.
Conclusion
Shepherding as a metaphor has manifested itself throughout Scripture in many
different ways, relating to both God and his chosen human agents. New Testament
elders modeled their leadership after Jesus, who himself is the Good Shepherd. Paul
illustrated this model by the requirements he included for eldership in 1 Timothy
and Titus. Elders are to serve as overseers, watching over the flock of God and
providing for its needs. The responsibility is primarily one of teaching, as that is how
the shepherd both feeds and leads the flock with the word of God. Personal holiness
undergirds this responsibility, creating trust for the flock through the elder’s high
character.
Paul’s implicit use of the shepherd metaphor is highly evident in the qualifications
listed above. All the standards Paul presents are manifested in the positive shepherds
in the Old Testament and are perfectly modeled by Jesus. Men who met these standards
would be worthy of serving as an undershepherd to the Good Shepherd. Moreover,
Paul commanded that the elder “must not be a recent convert, or he may become
puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil” (1 Tim 3:7). While
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
not explicitly using the shepherd metaphor in this passage, his use of the metaphor
elsewhere helps explain the significance of the qualifications. Rather than presenting
an arbitrary list of qualifications, Paul outlines a comprehensive description of what
good shepherds would be like. Elders are shepherds, and only those who maintain the
principles of these qualifications can be said to reflect the Good Shepherd.
18
[JBTS 3.1 (2018): 19–30]
Gary L. Shultz Jr. (Ph.D. in Systematic Theology from The Southern Baptist
Theological Seminary) is Senior Pastor of First Baptist Church in Fulton,
Missouri. He teaches theology and preaching for Liberty University and
Baptist Bible Theological Seminary. He also serves as a fellow for the Center
of Pastor Theologians.
Abstract: Over the last several years a renewed call for the re-emergence of pastor-
theologians has occurred within Evangelicalism. The distinguishing mark of the
pastor-theologian is that his broader theological ministry to the church and the
academy is explicitly grounded in his pastoral ministry, and his broader theological
ministry strengthens and reinforces his pastoral ministry. While pastoral ministry
has many facets, its foundation is the ministry of the Word, and the heart of the
ministry of the word is preaching. Therefore, preaching the Word should be the
priority and aim of the pastor-theologian, not only in his pastoral ministry, but in his
broader theological ministry. This article will establish this truth by demonstrating
how preaching is the theological act that grounds all other aspects of pastoral
ministry even as it is grounded itself by that ministry. It will then explore how that
truth should impact the pastor-theologian’s broader theological ministry, leading
it to be biblical, confessional, and culturally relevant, even when directed towards
the academy. Preaching is the connecting center of the pastor-theologian’s ministry,
resulting in effective pastoring and ecclesial theology that not only reinforce one
other but together preach the good news of the gospel to the world.
Introduction
To many in the church and the academy today, the term “pastor-theologian” sounds
like an oxymoron, another amusing attempt to combine two words that seem to
contradict one another. While the same person might have been a pastor and a
theologian at one time, certainly that is not the case today.1 Theologians are scholars
1. The division between theology and the pastorate is a more recent development. See Kevin J.
Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan, The Pastor as Public Theologian: Recovering a Lost Vision (Grand
Rapids: Baker, 2015), 69–97.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
and intellectuals, concerned with issues that are probably important, but irrelevant
to the lives of real people. Pastors are practitioners, concerned with the “real work”
of the ministry and therefore focused on leadership principles, managing programs,
and therapeutic techniques.2 Unfortunately, both academic theologians and pastors
reinforce this stereotypical divide between pastoral ministry and theology. Academic
concerns rather than ecclesial or ministerial concerns often dictate the structure and
content of evangelical theological scholarship, which serves to minimize the value
of those ecclesial concerns and cast doubt upon the ability of pastors, no matter how
well-educated, to make meaningful theological contributions.3 On the other hand,
pastors typically face pressure from their congregations, broader culture, and even
from themselves to do anything but engage in theological ministry, which after all
is an academic pursuit that has nothing to do with practically pastoring a church.4
This divide between pastoral ministry and theology has led to what Todd Wilson
and Gerald Hiestand call “the theological anemia of the church,” and “the ecclesial
anemia of theology.”5 The church no longer looks to pastors as a whole for intellectual
leadership that addresses the crucial issues facing believers today. In many cases,
pastors are not capable of providing that intellectual leadership, instead relying on
the “professional theologians” to pick up the slack. Yet, whether they realize it or not,
pastors are the theological leaders of the churches they pastor, and those churches will
always reflect that theological leadership, or lack thereof. Separating pastoral ministry
from theology has resulted in a severe theological deficit in our congregations, which
in turn leads to a severe ethical deficit, compromising the integrity and witness of
the church. Likewise, theological scholarship is affected when ecclesial concerns
are minimized or dismissed. Because of their social locations, academic theologians
often engage different questions than pastors do, and then answer those questions
according to the dictates of the academy rather than the church.6 Yet the ultimate
purpose of theology is to benefit the church, addressing the pressing issues of the day
in such a way as to equip the saints for the work of the ministry, build them up into
the body of Christ, and help them achieve the unity of the faith and the knowledge of
the Son of God (Eph 4:12–13).
In response to this current state of affairs, over the last several years there has
been a renewed call within evangelicalism for the re-emergence of pastors who do
2. Ibid., 1–15.
3. Gerald L. Hiestand, “Pastor-Scholar to Professor-Scholar: Exploring the Theological Discon-
nect Between the Academy and the Local Church,” Westminster Theological Journal 70.2 (2008):
361–66.
4. Marva J. Dawn and Eugene Peterson, The Unnecessary Pastor: Rediscovering the Call, ed.
Peter Santucci (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 3–4.
5. Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson, The Pastor Theologian: Resurrecting an Ancient Vision
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015), 13–14.
6. This is not meant to denigrate academic theology or indicate that faithful academic theology
cannot benefit the church. Academic theology is an essential discipline. The relationship between ac-
ademic theology and ecclesial theology should be complementary, not competitive. See Ibid., 76–78.
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G a r y L . S h u l t z J r. : T h e o l o g y P re a c h i n g
the work of pastor-theologians.7 While every pastor should be a theologian and lead
their churches theologically, pastor-theologians as a vocation are different from other
pastors in that they engage in theological ministries beyond their local churches,
including the work of academic theology.8 What distinguishes pastor-theologians
from other theological scholars is that their theological work is explicitly grounded
in the identify, social location, and ministry of the pastorate. In this way, pastor-
theologians help bridge the gap between local church ministry and academic
theology, bringing theology to bear on every aspect of their pastoral ministry, and
allowing pastoral ministry to inform their broader theological ministry.
This does raise the question, however, of what this looks like and how this
actually happens in practice. How does the identity, social location, and ministry
of the pastorate inform academic theology, and how does that kind of theological
work make a difference in everyday pastoral ministry? One of the primary
connection points is found in preaching. While pastoral ministry has many facets,
it’s foundation is the ministry of the Word, and the heart of the ministry of the word
is preaching. Therefore, preaching ought to be the foundational ministry and goal
of pastor-theologians, both in their pastoral ministry and their broader theological
ministry. This article establishes this truth by demonstrating how preaching is
the theological act that grounds all other aspects of pastoral ministry even as it is
reinforced itself by that ministry. It will then explore how that truth should impact
the pastor-theologian’s broader theological ministry, leading it to be explicitly
biblical, confessional, and relevant to the church and culture, even when directed
toward the academy. Preaching therefore lies at the heart of the pastor-theologian’s
ministry. Recovering and practicing this truth is a key step in reintegrating pastoral
ministry and theology. Through preaching, the pastor-theologian’s pastoral ministry
and broader theological ministry should ultimately reinforce one another, together
communicating the good news of the gospel to the church, both local and universal.
7. E.g., Becoming a Pastor Theologian: New Possibilities for Church Leadership, ed. Todd Wilson
and Gerald Hiestand (Downers Grove: IVP, 2016); Hiestand and Wilson, Pastor Theologian; The
Power to Comprehend with All the Saints: The Formation and Practice of a Pastor-Theologian, ed.
Wallace M. Alston Jr. and Cynthia A. Jarvis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009); and Vanhoozer and
Strachan, Pastor as Public Theologian.
8. While in one sense, all pastors ought to identify themselves as pastor-theologians, in that the
work they do is inherently theological, some pastors are called to become what Hiestand and Wilson
call “ecclesial theologians,” pastors who write “theological scholarship in conversation with other
theologians, with an eye to the needs of the ecclesial community.” Pastor Theologian, 85.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
presiding over the ordinances, preaching, teaching, equipping others for ministry,
pastoral visitation, pastoral counseling, crisis ministry, and benevolent ministry.9
These responsibilities are based on biblical instructions like shepherding and feeding
the flock of God (John 21:15–17; 1 Pet 5:2), proclaiming the whole counsel of God (Acts
20:27), presenting people mature in Christ (Col 1:23–29), equipping people for works
of service (Eph 4:12–16), leading people to reach others for Christ (Matt 28:18–20),
and keeping watch over yourself and the flock that Christ has given you (Acts 20:28).10
Faced with these numerous responsibilities, each of them overwhelming in their
own way (cf. 2 Cor 2:16), a divide can infiltrate the pastor’s thinking and ministry.
Theology, biblical studies, and all of that over “stuff” learned in seminary might be
good for preaching and teaching, but it’s not much help when it comes to everything
else. Cultural and congregational pressure to act as a therapist, CEO, manager, or
political organizer only exacerbates this divide.11 Eugene Peterson elaborates on his
experience, which he believes is typical of many pastors:
None of my learned advisors ever suggested that I give up my Christian
faith so that I could be successful at this pastor business; but what they
did do by implication was suggest that I give up on Scripture as having
anything definitive to do with the pastoral vocation in contemporary
America. Scripture was good for preaching, but when it came to running
a church, organizing a congregation, managing conflict, training church
school teachers, and getting out the publicity on the new missions emphasis,
the Holy Scriptures didn’t offer much. Isaiah, after all, never had to run a
stewardship campaign; Jeremiah didn’t know the first thing about conflict
management…My advisors were happy to supply me with up-to-date texts
written by various experts in the field, showing me how to be relevant to
culture.12
Yet what makes pastoral ministry unique, and not just another helping profession,
is that it is gospel‑focused, Scripturally-determined, and explicitly theological in all
of its facets, not just preaching and teaching. Even while elucidating the pastor’s
many responsibilities, Scripture emphasizes that the pastor’s particular ministry is
the “ministry of the Word” (Acts 6:4). John Calvin appeals to 1 Corinthians 4:1, (“Let
a man regard us in this manner, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries
of God.”), Titus 1:9 (“holding fast the faithful word which is in accordance with the
teaching, so that he will be able both to exhort in sound doctrine and to refute those
9. Thomas C. Oden, Pastoral Theology: Essentials of Ministry (New York: HarperCollins, 1983),
v–vi.
10. Derek Prime and Alistair Begg, On Being a Pastor: Understanding our Calling and Work
(Chicago: Moody, 2004), 49–63.
11. William H. Willimon, The Pastor: The Theology and Practice of Ordained Ministry (Nash-
ville: Abingdon, 2002), 55.
12. Dawn and Peterson, Unnecessary Pastor, 7–8.
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G a r y L . S h u l t z J r. : T h e o l o g y P re a c h i n g
who contradict.”), and “similar passages which frequently occur,” and concludes that
pastors have two particular functions: proclaiming the gospel and administering the
sacraments.13 After outlining the pastor’s qualifications from 1 Timothy 3:1–7 and
Titus 1:5–9, Mark Dever concludes, “The essence of the elder’s office is found in
teaching––ensuring the Word of God is well understood.”14 This does not mean that
pastors should only preach and teach, but that the ministry of the Word should be
the foundation and priority in everything the pastor does. Preaching the word works
to theologically ground all of the pastor’s ministry even as that ministry serves to
reinforce and ground the pastor’s preaching.
13. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis
Battles, Library of Christian Classics, vols. 20–21 (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1960), 4.3.6.
14. Mark Dever, The Church: The Gospel Made Visible (Nashville: B&H, 2012), 56.
15. Peter Adam, Speaking God’s Words: A Practical Theology of Preaching (Vancouver: Regent,
2004), 59–61.
16. Ibid., 75.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
The ministry of the Word is not the special province of the pastor, it is the duty of
all God’s people.17 The Thessalonians believers shared the Word so widely that Paul
felt like he didn’t need to add anything to it (1 Thess 1:8). Peter exhorted believers to
make a defense to anyone who asks about the hope they have beyond this life (1 Pet
3:15). Paul tells the Ephesians to put on the “preparation of the gospel of peace” (Eph
6:15) and take up the “sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Eph 6:17). The
Colossians were to “let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom
teaching and admonishing one another” (Col 3:17), and the Thessalonians were told
to admonish each other as well (1 Thess 5:14). Titus was to make sure the older
women were equipped to teach the younger women from the Word of God, so that
the younger women would live out those principles like they should (Titus 2:3–5).
Yet, for all of the church’s responsibility to carry out the ministry of the Word,
nowhere does the New Testament call upon believers as a whole or the church in
general to preach as it commands pastors to preach (e.g., 2 Tim 4:2). Preaching the
Word as defined above is a distinct, particular ministry of the pastor.18 One of its
chief purposes is to lead to an effective ministry of the Word on the part of the
entire church. Paul’s instructions to the Colossians in Colossians 3:16 to teach and
admonish one another with the Word in all wisdom come after his description of his
own preaching ministry in Colossians 2:28 as admonishing and teaching the Word in
all wisdom. As Jonathan Griffiths states, “Clearly their ministry to one another takes
it cue from the ministry of the apostle Paul, and parallels his in significant ways.”19
The same pattern can be observed in 1 Thessalonians (1 Thess 5:12–14) and Titus
(2:1, 3–5). Pastors are to be stewards of the Word, faithfully preaching the messages
God has given them to preach from his Word, and then the church is to steward the
messages they have heard, leading to life and blessing (2 Cor 2:15–16).20
In this way, preaching, as the heart of the pastor’s ministry of the Word, is meant
to ground the rest of the church’s ministry and therefore the rest of pastoral ministry:
leading and administering the church, seeing people brought to Christ, ensuring
that people are discipled, equipping the church for service and witness, counseling,
pastoral care, and all the rest. When pastors preach the Word faithfully, week-by-
week proclaiming the gospel, each ministry of the church is positively impacted. If
the preaching is theologically robust, expounding on the great truths of God from
Scripture, it will over time lead each ministry in the church to be the same, strongly
rooted in the truth of the gospel. This is the pastor’s special role in the congregation,
17. Jonathan I. Griffiths, Preaching in the New Testament: An Exegetical and Biblical-Theological
Study, New Studies in Biblical Theology (Downers Grove: IVP, 2017), 45–49.
18. Ibid., 49.
19. Ibid., 47.
20. Jason C. Meyer, Preaching: A Biblical Theology (Wheaton: Crossway, 2013), 25–29.
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and the heart of the pastor’s theological ministry in a local context, “to serve others
by building them up into Christ through the ministry of the Word.”21
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particularly important for pastor-theologians engaged in doing theological work
beyond their local context to prioritize preaching.
Pastor-theologians must consciously work to preach theologically. This includes
working to apply their theological work beyond their churches to their churches,
translating it into preaching even as they put it into practice as pastors. In this way
churches are not only built up doctrinally and ethically, but theology is seen for what
it really is, the sound doctrine of the church that leads people to experience and live
out God’s grace (Titus 2:1–15), and not merely the province of academia. As Thomas
Currie notes, a local church in a particular place what theology is for, and where it
is ultimately meant to be practiced: “Yet all of these important disciplines [theology]
are taught for the sake of the body, that is, for the sake of the body’s own witness to
the joyfully disturbing presence of Christ in the world.”24
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Pastor-theologians aim to do more than inform, consider theoretical or historical
questions simply for their own sakes, or maintain a neutral, typically “academic”
perspective. Instead, the goal of pastor-theologians’ theological work is the same
as their preaching: life-change, or a broader ministry of the Word that leads people
and churches to follow Jesus in every area of their lives. This is not to say that many
academic theologians are not motivated by pastoral concerns, do not do their theological
work for the church, or that they do not attempt to change others in a positive way
through their work, it is rather an acknowledgment that they are not pastors, and that
vocational difference affects theology and how it’s done. In addition, the strictures
of academia often leave pastoral concerns unexpressed or underemphasized, while
pastor-theologians make these concerns overt, the self-conscious purpose of their
vocation.27 Pastor-theologians address important questions generated and informed
by pastoral ministry, and they address those questions while preaching through their
theological work. What this looks like is theology that is unapologetically biblical
and confessional, while also explicitly relevant to cultural and ecclesial concerns.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
Pastor-theologians will not ignore issues of prolegomena, but as theologians
outside the academy they can establish their convictions about these issues and then
put them into practice, without continually having to defend their methodology or
reference opposing arguments. Pastor-theologians are freer to appeal directly to the
recognized authorities of their confessional traditions, such as Martin Luther, John
Calvin, or John Wesley, without having to continually demonstrate an awareness
of secondary literature and other possible interpretations of the subject. Likewise,
Pastor-theologians can more directly appeal to the Scriptures and expound the
great truths of the Scripture, without explicitly defending their right to do so. Two
contemporary examples of this can be found with N. T. Wright and John Piper. In
the introduction to his work Surprised by Hope, for example, Wright explains that he
is not going to address some pertinent issues that he could address about death and
what lies beyond it. Instead, he is going to approach the issue as a biblical theologian
for the edification of the church, and then he proceeds to do just that.30 Piper, in his
book Counted Righteous in Christ, one of his more academic works, does something
similar. He explains in his introduction how his preaching from Romans 1–8 led him
to consider a book on justification, and then in the first chapter how he approaches
this work in a scholarly way, but as a pastor with pastoral concerns, standing on the
truth of Scripture.31 Pastor-theologians aim to preach through their theological work
by expounding the truth of Scripture under the authority of Scripture, no matter their
level of sophistication or intended audience.
30. N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the
Church (New York: HarperCollins, 2008), xi–xiv.
31. John Piper, Counted Righteous in Christ: Should We Abandon the Imputation of Christ’s Righ-
teousness? (Wheaton: Crossway, 2002), 13–15; 21–23.
32. Calvin Miller, Preaching: The Art of Narrative Exposition (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2006), 79.
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hopes, all in light of the broader culture.33 In this they aim to help their people live
rightly within culture and even positively impact their culture.
Theology has a similar purpose and goal as preaching, in that it ought to
communicate truth in a way that the church understands so that the broader culture
is impacted. One could even properly define theology as the discipline which
gives a coherent explanation of the truths of Scripture in the context of a culture,
communicating those truths in contemporary language and applying those truths
particularly considering contemporary concerns.34 Pastor-theologians write theology
for the same reason they preach, to apply truth, and they seek to apply truth in theology,
as in preaching, by speaking to contemporary concerns that must be addressed.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer is an example of what this looks like. Life Together was written
to describe what a real Christian community should look like, directed at a people
who confessed Christianity but didn’t know what it mean to live as Christians living
among other Christians. Bonhoeffer begins his book by quoting Psalm 133:1 on
unity, and then states that in the following pages he and the reader would “consider a
number of directions and precepts that the Scriptures provide us for our life together
under the Word.”35 From the beginning his theological work is framed as relevant for
a specific ecclesial and cultural need. The Cost of Discipleship is similar, in that it
is written for a church in a culture that doesn’t really know what it means to follow
Jesus as his disciples, but needs to know. Bonhoeffer also introduces this book by
stressing the need to hear Jesus in his Word, and explains that this is what his focus
will be.36 These ecclesial concerns stand in sharp contrast to some of Bonhoeffer’s
earlier works, such as Sanctorum Communio or Act and Being, which did not share
these pastoral concerns.37 Pastor-theologians apply their theology, looking not only
to inform, but to edify the church and impact the culture.
Conclusion
Pastor-theologians bring theology into the pastorate and the pastorate into theology.
They do this by engaging in theological ministry beyond their local ministries.
This dual role means pastor-theologians are uniquely positioned to help churches
recover theologically robust ministry, bridging the unfortunate divide between
theology and ministry. At the same time, pastor-theologians can bring pastorally
robust theology into the academy, helping recover an ecclesial purpose and emphasis
33. Timothy Keller, Preaching: Communicating Faith in an Age of Skepticism (New York: Viking,
2015), 99.
34. E.g., Millard Erickson, Christian Theology, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2013), 8.
35. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Christian Community, trans.
John W. Doberstein (New York: HarperCollins, 1954), 17.
36. Bonhoeffer, Life Together, 36.
37. John Webster traces this evolution in Bonhoeffer’s thought in Word and Church: Essays in
Church Dogmatics (New York: T&T Clark, 2001), 87–112.
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in theology. One of the primary ways pastor-theologians fulfill this dual role is by
prioritizing preaching as the foundation of their pastoral ministries and the goal of
their theological ministries. The church, the academy, and the culture at large all
need pastors who can explain truth in a way that is biblical, confession, practical and
relevant, bringing their unique identity and context to bear on the pressing issues of
our day. As pastor-theologians ground their vocations in preaching the Word, this
will take place.
30
[JBTS 3.1 (2018): 31–45]
Jonathan Master
Abstract: The preached word is the means that God has ordained for both the
evangelization of the nations and for the building up of the church. As evangelicals,
we are committed to the fact that all of scripture is inspired and profitable for the
people of God: therefore, all scripture must be preached—including the Psalms.1 In
Part 1, I present four recommendations for preaching Psalm 46 today. Each of these
recommendations supplement the preacher’s regular homiletic preparation. These
recommendations are intended to remind preachers of certain features of the Psalms
in general and of this psalm in particular. In Part II, I present an example sermon,
considering each of these guidelines.
Key Words: Psalms, preaching the Psalms, Martin Luther, Reformation preaching
1. 2 Timothy 3:16.
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ought to make the case for studying the psalm closely by noting how much positive
influence it has had and continues to have in the lives of faithful Christians through
the hymn, even upon those who do not know its origin, or the details of the text upon
which it is based. Preaching this psalm needs to begin with showing the importance
of it to the Church today, and Luther’s hymn—and perhaps other important matters
in its interpretive history—should be used to this end.
Building upon this, the beginning of the sermon might be the most effective
place to cite the ways in which Luther’s life was filled with immense troubles and
challenges. Luther certainly understood the pressures of life and ministry. He knew
what it was to have a family, manage difficult financial burdens, suffer physically, and
lose friends to desertion and death. Just as a personal testimony about the importance
of a text of scripture often awakens in us the desire to study it for ourselves, so
the wide influence of this psalm—mediated through Luther’s employment of it in
his famous hymn—can serve to awaken listeners to their own need to hear this
psalm preached.
The encouragement Luther received from the Psalms in general is also worth
noting when proclaiming this text. In 1513–1515, Luther began his lectures on the
Psalms. This task changed not only his view of God and His Messiah, but it also
altered his view of the Christian life. Later, Luther pointed people to the example of
David, who cries out for understanding, meditates on the Word, and then sings and
says and prays it himself.2 Luther’s devotional life is shaped by the Psalms. In a letter
to his friend, Peter the Barber, Luther says this about his prayer life:
First, when I feel I have become cool and joyless in prayer because of other
tasks or thoughts…I take my little psalter, hurry to my room, or, if it be the day or
hour for it, to the church where a congregation is assembled, and, as time permits, I
say quietly to myself and word-for-word the Ten Commandments, the Creed, and, if I
have time, some words of Christ or of Paul or some psalms, just as a child might do.3
Preachers ought not to shy away from appeals to the effects beauty created by
the familiar hymn, which, depending on the congregation, may have had a powerful
influence on the lives of hearers; and they ought to utilize and not ignore the great
testimony of Christians in the past for whom this psalm has provided special
encouragement.
2. Carl R. Trueman, Luther and the Christian Life: Cross and Freedom (Wheaton: Crossway,
2017), 118–19.
3. Luther’s Works, American Edition, vols 1–55, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann
(Philadelphia: Muhlenberg and Fortress; St Louis: Concordia, 1955), 43:193; (italics mine).
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Canonical Context
One of the significant developments of the past few decades in the study of the Psalms
is the attention being paid to the canonical context of individual psalms within the
psalter. Since at least 1985, with the publication of Gerald H. Wilson’s The Editing of
the Hebrew Psalter, scholars and some pastors have begun to consider the structure
and message of the psalter holistically.4 The placement of each individual psalm is set
within the matrix of the psalter’s progression of thought and theology.
Along these lines, it is worth noting that Psalm 46, as part of Book II of the
psalter, falls into a sub-section of Davidic psalms. McCann identifies the presence
of the “Korah Psalms” (42–49) as a “seeming interruption of a sequence of Davidic
Psalms . . .”5 He notes that both Book II and Book III begin with “songs,” and that
both Psalm 42 (at the beginning of Book II) and Psalm 73 (which begins Book III)
offer complaints about the absence of the Temple (Book II) and of God’s favor (Book
III).6 This theme of loss or absence—perhaps of exile—seems to permeate Books
II-III. The division between Book II and Book III in the psalter, despite the overall
similarity of their orientation, may be explained by the Davidic seams between the
books. McCann, drawing on Wilson, writes:
The division of Psalms 42–89 into Books II and III would also have enhanced a
Davidic orientation, because it created the situation in which both books end with a
royal psalm. As Wilson points out, this means that royal psalms appear at noticeable
seams of Books I-III. Plus, Psalms 2 and 89 form an envelope-structure for Books
I-III, calling particular attention to the sharp contrast between the Davidic king in
Psalm 2, who is promised world-encompassing authority (vv. 9–11), and the king in
Psalm 89, who has been rejected and poignantly laments, questions, and pleads for
divine help (vv. 39–54[38–53]). It is precisely this contrast which begs for a response,
which comes in Books IV-V.7
Since much of this is subject to debate, and in any case, requires a level of
intra-psalter detail to which sermons are not well-suited, I am not advising that this
appear as such in preaching Psalm 46. But the canonical context of Psalm 46 should
4. See Gerald H. Wilson, The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985).
See also: Daniel Owens, “The Concept of Canon in Psalms Interpretation.” Trinity Journal 34 NS
(2013): 155–169; J. Clinton McCann Jr., ed., The Shape and Shaping of the Psalter. Journal for the
Study of the Old Testament Supplement 159 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993).
5. J. Clinton McCann, Jr., “The Shape and Shaping of the Psalter: Psalms in Their Literary Con-
text.” The Oxford Handbook of the Psalms, ed., William P. Brown (Oxford: Oxford University, 2014,
350–362), 355.
6. Ibid., 355.
7. Ibid., 356 (italics mine).
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remind the preacher to emphasize the pleading notion of the psalm. It is a psalm about
trouble, and it is set within the context of other psalms that accentuate loss, absence,
and difficulty. The congregation needs to see Psalm 46 as a psalm that both sets their
expectations for life (trouble and a sense of absence) and speaks to them with genuine
and substantive words of comfort. Congregations also need to be reminded that this
psalm of trouble is not an outlier, an interruption in the otherwise smooth experience
of the people of God; it is part of a larger pattern within the psalter.
Historical Context
Individual psalms often contain superscriptions connecting them to specific people or
events. There is considerable debate about the exact meaning of each superscription.
For instance, questions have been raised about whether לְדָ וִ ֽדdemands that we
understand the Psalm to have been written by David’s own hand, or whether perhaps
this psalm is merely about David. Similarly, the question of the individual psalm’s
relationship to events described in the superscription has been debated.8
In the case of Psalm 46, the superscription is significant for the preacher, not
because it identifies the psalm with a particular historical figure or event, but precisely
because it does not. This feature of psalm’s context will be especially relevant when
we begin to examine its setting as a song.
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Yet, for a variety of reasons (not least that the music is lost to us today), this is
precisely what contemporary preachers are forced to do when it comes to the Psalms.
Psalm 46 is a perfect example of this reality. Its superscription includes at least four
distinct statements which designate it as a musical work: ( ַל ְמנַּצֵ ֥ ַחTo the choirmaster);
ֵי־ק ֹ ַרח
֑ ( ִל ְבנof the Sons of Korah); ( ַעֽל־ ֲעל ָ֥מֹותAccording to Alamoth); and( ִׁשֽירA Song).
Further, while the precise musical meaning of the term, “Selah” is far from certain,
it does appear to have some kind of musical or performative meaning. Some have
suggested that it represents a pause in the song; others have suggested a kind of
crescendo effect.11 In any case, it reinforces the fact established by the superscription:
Psalm 46 is a different kind of text. It is poetic, as are all the psalms and most of the
other biblical wisdom texts. But it is also meant to be sung.
Which leads us to Agawu’s central concern. How can we understand and
communicate both the music and the language of the psalm effectively? Should that
even be our objective? Even if we conclude that we should somehow communicate
the message and impact of the musical elements of Psalm 46 and other psalms like
it, the fact remains that, unlike the 19th century German “lied” tradition which
concerns Agawu, we do not actually have traditions, recordings, or even reliably firm
understandings of the notations related to the music of the psalms.12 As preachers
today, we cannot work with information we are not given. While we should remind
our hearers that these were originally sung (especially when the superscription points
us so clearly in that direction), we cannot speak to the meaning or force that would be
conveyed by the music. This is not available to us.
As evangelical interpreters, we might also raise the question of whether or not
this “semiotic system” contained in the music is significant anyway. Our formulations
for the inspiration and inerrancy of scripture extend to the words of scripture, but not
to any performative elements associated with those words. To think of it another way,
we can have little doubt that the effect of certain biblical sermons or prayers would
have been dramatic and striking, but the drama and effect associated with hearing
those sermons or prayers is not what the Bible communicates to us; rather we are
given the words. We must conclude that the words of scripture are the essential, God-
breathed element, sufficient for our life and growth in godliness.
Notwithstanding all this, the musical nature of many of the psalms in general
and of Psalm 46 in particular does remind us of several key elements we must bear
in mind when preaching. Three particular points stand out. First, we ought to draw
our listeners’ attention to these genre questions, if for no other reason than that they
are emphasized for us in the (inspired and authoritative) superscription. If the words
are what the Lord has given to us, then even the words regarding genre and original
reception are highly significant and ought not be ignored. As evangelical expositors,
11. Norman H. Snaith. “Selah.” Vetus Testamentum 2 (1952): 43–56. See also, C. Hassell Bullock,
Psalms, Volume 1: Psalms 1–72. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2015), 26.
12. C. Hassell Bullock, Psalms, Volume 1: Psalms 1–72 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2015), 246.
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our commitment to the verbal and plenary inspiration of the text needs to be shown
even in our handling of the seemingly mundane or even inscrutable details of the
superscriptions.
Second, it is also worth reinforcing that, to the extent we not only preach but
also give some leadership and oversight to the public worship of a congregation, the
singing of these psalms is an important way to press the words themselves home. Our
protestant heritage placed a great deal of emphasis on this important fact. The work of
many pastors in the past in setting the psalms in metric form and with accompanying
tunes can and should play a greater role in the lives of God’s people today. Their re-
introduction into the mainstream of evangelical public worship would go a long way
to re-establishing the Psalms in the hearts and minds of today’s Christians.
But lastly, the musical nature needs to be highlighted precisely because it
reminds us of the essentially universal nature of the subject of this psalm among
God’s people. If this is a song to be sung by all of God’s people, then it must apply
to all God’s people. This can be a reminder to the congregation that God does not
promise his people an easy life, nor does he encourage them to gloss over or turn
aside from the significant difficulties of following him as covenant people. Instead,
the LORD places the theme of suffering at the center of the songs of his people.
Also, as noted in the previous section, Psalm 46, while identified as a song of
the Sons of Korah, is not connected to a particular event. In that sense, this Psalm
stands apart from any one particular circumstance, and is, in a way, given immediate
universal application to all of God’s people corporately as a song. The lack of
historical referents in the superscription should actually be driven home. This psalm
and its setting in times of trouble is assumed to be a universally applicable theme—a
song for everyone to sing. Since this psalm, dealing as it does with trouble, is given to
everyone to sing, it reminds us that the trouble and suffering which it assumes is also
a reality for everyone. This can be a great comfort, since all Christians do experience
suffering.
It may be that our lack of attention to this feature of the Psalms in their
performative state is symptomatic of our general failure to adequately address the
difficulties of life. Trueman writes:
In the psalms, God has given the church a language which allows it to express
even the deepest agonies of the human soul in the context of worship. Does
our contemporary language of worship reflect the horizon of expectation
regarding the believer’s experience which the psalter proposes as normative?
If not, why not? Is it because the comfortable values of Western middle-class
consumerism have silently infiltrated the church and made us consider such
cries irrelevant, embarrassing, and signs of abject failure?13
13. Carl R. Trueman, “What Can Miserable Christians Sing?” from The Wages of Spin: Critical
Writings on Historical and Contemporary Evangelicalism (Edinburgh: Christian Focus, 2004) 159.
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It is certainly the case that Psalm 46, by expressing a range of problems and
struggles, prepares the people of God for the actual realities of life. The fact that
Psalm 46, a psalm set in the context of trouble, is explicitly a song to be sung by all,
and is placed among many other songs which highlight the suffering of God’s people,
underscores the extent to which the cry of trouble should be the expected norm, and
not the embarrassing exception.
14. For an interesting summary of the peculiarities of interpreting poetry in English, see Ed-
ward Hirsch, “How to Read a Poem.” Available online at https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/
how-read-poem-0.
15. See for instance Mark D. Futato, Interpreting the Psalms: An Exegetical Handbook (Grand
Rapids: Kregel, 2007), 24–25.
16. The most articulate and important work questioning the idea of Hebrew poetry is James L.
Kugel, The Idea of Biblical Poetry: Parallelism and Its History (New Haven: Yale, 1981), 59.
17. Preachers ought to familiarize themselves with these conventions, but this is where listening
to modern preachers preach poetic—or even apocalyptic—sections of scripture will be particularly
useful.
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poem.18 While incorporating the psalm into some kind of responsive congregational
prayer has considerable merit, and has been used to great effect in churches of the
past, it is not the same thing as preaching.19 Further, the notion that preaching would
itself incorporate poetic forms is problematic: both the forms employed and the skill
with which the preacher could employ them would detract and distance the hearer
from the original Hebrew poetry.
This can be a great loss. John Calvin quite famously called the Psalms, “an
Anatomy of all the Parts of the Soul.”20 Surely this refers not only to the material
covered by the psalms, but also the way in which the psalms, in their artistry, engage
the whole person. They do this through use of artistic forms, but also through imagery.
The imagery of Psalm 46 cannot be overlooked, though this too presents
challenges. Futato points out some of these. As an example of a way in which biblical
imagery may work differently in a contemporary western context, Futato cites the
reference in Psalm 23:5 to oil:
For most of us “oil” brings to mind either cooking oil or motor oil. Few of
us will immediately smell the fragrance of a perfumed body lotion. And how
many of us feel the refreshment that the ancients would have felt, knowing
that anointing with oil in this context is analogous to “washing up” after a
long trip to partake of a holiday meal?21
Again, Futato comments on the degree of imagery used in the Psalms and in the
difficulties of interpreting it well:
Thus, we see with varying amounts of clarity the images presented in different
psalms. In some psalms, we clearly see images. In others we see, but without
the clarity of the ancients. In still others we see images as if looking through
a window of opaque glass blocks.22
When preaching the Psalms, certain features of the poetry will inevitably be
lost to our hearers and probably to us as well, but the imagery must be attended to
in preaching Psalm 46. The most obvious place where this attention to imagery pays
off in Psalm 46 is in the transition from stanza 1 (vv. 1–3) to stanza 2 (vv. 4–7). Here
we are confronted by contrasting but related images. In verse 3, we have the image
of waves crashing over us and mountains trembling, but in verse 4, there is a radical
shift. In the second section, verses 4–7, the Psalmist turns our attention away from
18. James. L. Mays, Preaching and Teaching the Psalms (Louisville: WJK, 2006), 4.
19. For a wonderful historical example of the use of the Psalms for congregational prayer, see
Hughes Oliphant Old, “Daily Prayer in the Reformed Church of Strasbourg, 1525–1530,” Worship,
vol 52, no. 2 (March, 1978): 121–138.
20. John Calvin, Commentary on the Book of Psalms (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979 reprint), xxxvii.
21. Mark D. Futato, Interpreting the Psalms: An Exegetical Handbook (Grand Rapids: Kregel,
2007), 43.
22. Ibid., 43–44.
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the crashing waves of our circumstances. He takes us on a little journey; he gives us
a little glimpse of heaven, of God’s holy city. And the image at the beginning is the
key to seeing this. Verse 4 begins with a kind of exclamation: “A river!” It is the first
word in Hebrew. Our translations turn it to a bare informational statement, “There
is a river…” But the Hebrew text begins by saying: “A river!” For the readers and
hearers of this text, though the world is falling apart, though the unthinkable may
happen, though the waves are crashing in, just then the writer points to—“a river!”
And the river makes God’s city glad.
There are obvious references to Genesis 1–2. When the Garden of Eden is
described, it is a well-watered place, with rivers coming into and out of it.23 When the
temple is described in Ezekiel 40–48, there is a river coming out of it.24 In Revelation
22, the angel of God shows John the new heavens and new earth and it starts with a
river.25 This image, especially if it is presented with all its biblical resonances, carries
with it a great deal of meaning and significance. It points us toward a shift in the
author’s thinking, away from trouble and to the realities of heaven.
The first stanza (vv. 1–3) also employs vivid imagery to explain the depth of the
trouble. We can see this especially in the language of verses 2–3. “We will not fear
though the earth gives way…” Today, we say that events are “ground-breaking,” or
“earth-shattering.” That means they are life-altering. Nothing will ever be the same
again. Driving home these images and identifying them with images in use today can
serve to reinforce the gravity of the psalmist’s expression.
These first stanza images take on special significance when we consider how
they or similar images are used elsewhere in the Bible. In Psalm 104, the psalmist
uses a very similar phrase and yet declares it will not happen to the earth: “[God] set
the earth on its foundations, so that it should never be moved [italics mine].”26 The
similarity of the image of solidity in Psalm 104 (“the earth is set in its foundations”)
and the cataclysmic reality of the trouble in Psalm 46 (“the earth gives way”) reminds
us of how serious the trouble is that the psalmist considers, and, by extension, how
serious the trouble is that the people of God are supposed to expect and to sing about.
And the reason he can acknowledge all of this may be accentuated by the use of
the imagery of verse 3 in Isaiah 54:9–11, which reads:
9 “This is like the days of Noah to me: as I swore that the waters of Noah
should no more go over the earth, so I have sworn that I will not be angry with
you, and will not rebuke you. 10 For the mountains may depart and the hills
be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant
of peace shall not be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you.
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11 “O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted, behold, I will set your
stones in antimony, and lay your foundations with sapphires.
God’s compassion, his steadfast love, his help in trouble is more solid than the
mountains. Even if the unthinkable is happening, God is a refuge.
Similarly, in vv. 8b-9, the writer employs a succession of images and phrases
designed to remind us of key events in biblical history. Drawing attention to these
images, as well as unfolding them to our listeners will greatly enhance our efforts at
preaching this text effectively.27
Conclusion
Preaching the psalms is vital for the church in every age. Psalm 46, with its rich
history of usage within the church and its important message to people in the midst
of suffering, needs to be proclaimed. When preaching the psalm, we dare not ignore
its history of interpretation, all the while bearing in mind its canonical and historical
context; we must remember that it was originally sung congregationally by all the
people of God; and, perhaps most importantly, we must analyze and proclaim it as
poetry, even if the force of this cannot be brought home in exactly the same way the
text itself does. It is a song of trouble for our troubled times.
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In a sense, that is not a bad thing. There is something timeless about this Psalm,
something that makes it appropriate to any number of situations that God’s people
have faced and do face on a regular basis. It was not written for just one person’s
circumstance, but it was something worshippers in Israel were all to sing together. It
is a universal message, and it reflects realities that every believer, in every age, must
face head-on. And perhaps surprisingly, this universal message—sung by God’s
people throughout history—is a message about trouble.
I wonder what you are facing today. Does it feel like your life is falling apart?
Can you identify with the idea of “trouble” in the first verse? We may not know the
exact circumstances of this Psalmist when he was writing or of Luther when he was
paraphrasing—just as I do not know your exact circumstances today; but the Psalm
begins by reminding us that God is a help in trouble. But the Psalm is not just about
trouble; it’s about trouble that is literally earth-shattering.
You probably have people in your life who share their burdens with you from
time to time. And some people have an amazing ability to make their burdens seem
like huge burdens. “My life is full of difficulties. Can you believe that last night,
I was out at a restaurant and I ordered the steak and I had to send it back twice
because it was too rare!” And the friend goes on and on and on and you are sitting
there thinking, “I do not know how I am going to pay the rent this month! I just
got a huge car bill! My son is struggling with an addiction! And I have to listen to
you make yourself out to be a martyr because your dinner at the steakhouse was
not cooked properly!” Or maybe you have even found yourself on the other end of
that conversation. Someone asks you about your day and you go on and on about
something trivial. Then when you finally come up for air and ask them about their
life, you find out they have cancer, or their daughter was in a car accident.
I remember one incident like this. When I was in seminary, one of my classmates
was older than the rest of us. He was in the midst of a successful and lucrative career,
and to his credit, he took time out to study God’s Word. I was with him in a Greek
class that met for four hours in the evening. Because it was such a long class, there
was a twenty-minute break in the middle, during which he would take a few of us
out for coffee. We always drove in his car, since he had a brand-new BMW 700
series sedan. One day, he came into class looking absolutely dejected. Something
was wrong, so I asked him what the trouble was. “Oh,” he said, “it is really awful.
My 7 series is in the shop and the dealer only had a new 5 series for me to borrow.”
That was the trouble! We were trying to pay the bills and find gas money and he was
troubled about having to drive a smaller BMW for a day! You see, there is trouble,
and then there is TROUBLE. And the Psalmist wants us to know that when he speaks
about God’s help in trouble, he is not just talking about small or minor trouble. God
is a help in TROUBLE.
We can see this by looking at the language of verses 2–3. “We will not fear though
the earth gives way…” This is big language. In fact, we use it as a kind of metaphor
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even today. We say that events are “ground-breaking,” or “earth-shattering.” That
means huge. Nothing will ever be the same again. Can you imagine and event like
that in your life? Maybe you do not have to imagine.
• You have buried a family member, and nothing will ever be the same.
• You have gotten the diagnosis, and you know you will never be able to do the
things you used to do.
• You have had someone break your trust, and you forgive them, but it will
never be like it was.
God’s compassion, his steadfast love, is a very present help to us. It keeps us
from fearing. It is more solid than the mountains. It is safer than the safest investment.
It is more reliable than your closest friend. When all of life is falling apart, when the
unthinkable is happening, God is our refuge.
In the second section, verses 4–7, the Psalmist turns our attention away from
the crashing waves of our circumstances. He takes us on a little journey; he gives
us a little glimpse of heaven, of God’s holy city. Remember what Paul says to the
Philippians: “Your citizenship is in heaven.” Well, the Old Testament way for the
Psalmist to say that is to say, “You belong in God’s holy city.” It is amazing how
28. Psalm 104:2 (emphasis added).
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even imaginative glimpses of heaven are intriguing to us. If you want to write a best-
seller after an accident or a surgery, just tell people you caught a glimpse of heaven!
There needs to be a white light, and some warm feeling of peace. Maybe mention
how you ran into your dearly departed grandfather or something like that. But this is
not imagination. Verse 4 actually begins with a kind of exclamation: “A river!” It is
the first word in Hebrew. Our translations turn it a kind of informational statement,
“There is a river…” But the Hebrew text begins by saying: “A river!” The world is
falling apart, the unthinkable may happen, waves are crashing in on me, but wait,
look—“a river!” And the river makes God’s city glad.
Now if you know you are Bible, you know there are references to Genesis 1–2
here. When the Garden of Eden is described, it is a well-watered place, with rivers
coming into and out of it. When the temple is described in Ezekiel 40–48, there’s a
river coming out of it. In Revelation 22, the angel of God shows John the new heavens
and new earth and it starts with a river.
My wife and I have been vacationing with our kids to the same place since
they were born—Lake Placid, NY. And we all get excited as we get nearer and
there are these landmarks: My kids are usually the most vocal: “Look—the entrance
to Adirondack Park!” “The pine trees!” “The little corner grocery store in Keene
Valley!” “The Olympic ski jumps!” “The bookstore!” “The boat launch!” “Whiteface
Mountain!” Each of these conveys something about the place. They are markers that
tell us where we are. And in Psalm 46, amid the storm, amid the chaos, when you
have the unthinkable news, when things are getting worse and worse, when there is
no way out—a River!
But the river is not actually the important thing. It is just the signpost. See the
big thing is that God is in her midst. And look at the contrast between verse 5 and
verse 2. The earth may move, but God’s city will not move. In fact, according to verse
6, nations, kingdoms, and even the earth may melt away, but it is because of God’s
word from God’s city.
Do you think about this? Do you remember Jesus’ words in the great commission
at the end of Matthew 28? “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to
me…” So what should that mean? Well, first, if you have not bowed the knee to Jesus
in your life, if you have not come to him and confessed your sin, asked him to cleanse
you by his blood, sincerely given yourself to him, then you are simply living in
rebellion against the one who alone can save you. Your strength will fail; your friends
cannot help you after death; your bank account, even if it lasts, can’t go with you after
death. Your legacy, your name, will die out. You have no hope for the storms of this
life, or for the coming judgment, apart from Christ. He is God most high, enthroned
with all power in heaven and on earth. He is the judge of the living and the dead, and
he offers forgiveness for those who believe in his name.
If you are trusting in Christ, if verse 7 is true of you: “The LORD of hosts is
with us, the God of Jacob is our fortress,” then I want to plead with you to turn your
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eyes off the waves and up to the city with the river. Remember Peter walking out to
Jesus, looking to him. When did he begin to sink? When his eyes moved from the
King and Lord and to the waves. Do you pray more than you worry? Do you cast your
cares upon the Lord because he cares for you? Do you boldly approach the throne of
grace to find grace to help in your time of need? Approach the city of God. You may
be sad and lonely and despairing, but look: “There is a river whose streams make
glad the city of God…”
And, in a sense, I think that is what the third section of the Psalm is helping us
do. Verse 8 begins with a command to look. It is a command. “Come!” “See!” “Look
closely!” And what are we supposed to look at? Quite simply, look at God’s victories
in the past. It is a set of interwoven allusions and echoes from throughout the Bible,
a collage of scenes from God’s mighty work in the past.
Look! God flooded the earth, destroyed the wicked and saved Noah! Look! God
judged Sodom and Gomorrah! Look! God rescued the people from the most powerful
ancient empire, the Egyptians, by plagues and a wall of water! Look! God led his
people to conquer the land! Look! God struck down Goliath! Look! God destroyed
the Philistines! Look! God conquering sin and death on the cross and by the empty
tomb! Look! God has worked in your life in the past!
And do you see how the Psalm ends? Verses 7 and 11 are identical. The river
that leads to the city of peace and joy—well, verse 7 tells us that that God sitting
on the throne of heaven is with us today. What a friend we have in Jesus! And that
powerful, strong, mighty God who has won victory after victory and left enemy after
enemy—including the last enemy of death—dead on the field, verse 11 tells us that
that God is with us.
Do you know this God? Is this God, who revealed himself in Jesus Christ, your
king, your comfort, your deliverer? He will surely win.
And did you know that is what Luther wrote when he reflected on this Psalm?
He knew about the one who was comforting him at his side and fighting the battle
on his behalf.
Did we in our own strength confide, Our striving would be losing; Were not
the right Man on our side, The Man of God’s own choosing: Dost ask who
that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He; Lord Sabaoth His Name, From age to age
the same, And He must win the battle.
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Look! God flooded the earth, destroyed the wicked and saved Noah! Look! God
judged Sodom and Gomorrah! Look! God rescued the people from the most powerful
ancient empire, the Egyptians, by plagues and a wall of water! Look! God led his
people to conquer the land! Look! God struck down Goliath! Look! God destroyed
the Philistines! Look! God conquering sin and death on the cross and by the empty
tomb! Look! God has worked in your life in the past!
And do you see how the Psalm ends? Verses 7 and 11 are identical. The river
that leads to the city of peace and joy—well, verse 7 tells us that that God sitting
on the throne of heaven is with us today. What a friend we have in Jesus! And that
powerful, strong, mighty God who has won victory after victory and left enemy after
enemy—including the last enemy of death—dead on the field, verse 11 tells us that
that God is with us.
Do you know this God? Is this God, who revealed himself in Jesus Christ, your
king, your comfort, your deliverer? He will surely win.
And did you know that is what Luther wrote when he reflected on this Psalm?
He knew about the one who was comforting him at his side and fighting the battle
on his behalf.
Did we in our own strength confide, Our striving would be losing; Were not the
right Man on our side, The Man of God’s own choosing: Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus, it is He; Lord Sabaoth His Name, From age to age the same, And He
must win the battle.
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
This is the message of Psalm 46. It was its message when it was first sung by
God’s people long ago. It was Luther’s understanding during the tumultuous days of
the German Reformation. And it is the message God’s people need as much as ever,
in our own day.
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[JBTS 3.1 (2018): 46–61]
Matthew Ward
Abstract: Many pastors today do not understand their role in their church’s
worship—they have not received training in the principles of corporate worship and
someone else on staff has the title of “worship leader.” That elusive role is to provide
theological leadership to the worship ministries of the local church. Theological
leadership assumes that pastors have done the work of developing a theology of
worship. It then involves two steps: contextualizing that theology to their unique
local church and communicating it effectively with that local church. While there
are many examples of a theology of worship available to consider, there are few
examples of a contextualized theology; this article offers two that are still general
enough to glean benefits and pitfalls. Communication is a two-way process. If pastors
are to be effective theological leaders, they must cultivate meaningful relationships—
particularly with their worship leaders, listen and learn, and not act out of fear.
1. Bob Kauflin, “What Worship Leaders Wished Their Pastor Knew,” Worship Matters, October
5, 2015, accessed September 8, 2017, http://worshipmatters.com/2015/10/05/what-worship-leaders-
wished-their-pastor-knew/. The series includes the equally helpful post, “What Pastors Wished Their
Worship Leaders Knew.”
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worship ministries—and the worship leaders need that as well. This relationship is
vital to a healthy church but misunderstood by many and flatly abused by some.
In their defense, many pastors have not been given a proper model for their
role in worship, so they do what pastors always do in such situations—make it up as
they go. Unfortunately, pastoral training often does not provide the tools necessary for
pastors to evaluate their intuitive approach to their worship ministries. They develop
an approach to their worship ministries from any number of sources, having a hard
enough time deciding if it works to worry if it is right. Consider these analogies:
This article contends that pastors need to take a different approach to their worship
ministries altogether—one that does not think of them as a box at all but an integral
part of their church’s identity. This approach requires a specific kind of leadership:
theological leadership. Such leadership can and should be employed by any pastor in
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any church, regardless of circumstance. In short, theological leadership is more than
being able to describe “what” with respect to worship; it is also more than being able
to explain “why.”
2. The late Robert Webber casts a significant shadow over the “worship renewal” movement. His
first and last books on the subject are an excellent introduction to his perspective: Worship Is a Verb:
Eight Principles for Transforming Worship (Star Song Publishers, 1992), and Ancient-Future Wor-
ship: Proclaiming and Enacting God’s Narrative (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008). Marva Dawn’s excel-
lent pair of books, Reaching Out without Dumbing Down: A Theology of Worship for This Urgent
Time (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), and A Royal “Waste” of Time: The Splendor of Worshiping
God and Being Church for the World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), provoke all the right ques-
tions with respect to worship. James K. A. Smith’s Cultural Liturgies series develops those ideas even
further, as in Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation (Grand Rapids:
Baker, 2009). One does not have to agree with all their conclusions to find great value in these books.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
of the boxes described above—as well as the difficult nature of staff relationships
(including the pastor’s dual role as “pastor” and “boss”), and pastors can find
themselves functionally isolated from the worship ministries of their churches. These
trends have tended to undermine the pastor’s role as the worship leader in the local
church. Regardless of the degree to which this may have occurred, the response is for
pastors and their churches to understand the proper role of the pastor in the worship
ministry: that of the theological leader.
1. The Black Box: It should go without saying that ignoring the workings of a
ministry is not providing theological leadership (or any leadership). Pastors do
not have to have musical experience to make theological observations because
the question is not “what will work” but “what should be.”
2. The Toy Box: Pastors have every right to express their opinions, but they
should not make the mistake of believing that their opinions are any more
important than anyone else’s in the church. And they certainly should not
believe that expressing personal preference is offering theological leadership.
3. The Display Box: Pastors should certainly care about the look and feel of
a worship service, but making suggestions based on group sentiment is not
theological leadership (unless that group is clearly and intentionally guided
by the mind of Christ—not often the case).
4. The Soap Box: Pastors should pour their heart and soul into every sermon, but
a well-crafted sermon does not provide theological leadership to the worship
ministries; at best, a sermon on corporate worship can only identify the lines
along which that leadership may proceed.
5. The Gift Box: If pastors desire to have any kind of meaningful working
relationship with the members of the worship ministries, they must offer
genuine pastoral leadership and concern. But whereas pastoral leadership
focuses on individual members, theological leadership equally applies to the
ministry itself.
Each of those approaches can (and even should) play a role in a pastor’s leadership
strategy, but none is of itself theological leadership.
Consider a church nursery as a parallel example. Only very shortsighted pastors
would ignore the nursery completely, although some foolish pastors have deemed it
inconsequential if no bad news comes out of it. Pastors may make observations about
the condition of the physical space (more likely if they have a child in it) but will
probably leave the décor to people with experience in childcare. At most, they may
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look for pictures of Jesus on the wall and the presence of a storybook Bible. They
almost certainly will not offer training on how to change a diaper properly. That level
of interaction between the pastor and nursery probably seems reasonable, but it does
not involve any sort of coherent plan for how the nursery fits into the church at large
or how it contributes to spiritual formation and identity. Pastors tacitly leave those
determinations in the hands of those who serving in the nursery.
This example does not convey a relationship of theological leadership. Caring
about the nursery is a good start. Believing that important spiritual transactions take
place in the nursery (not only in teaching infants the truths of the Bible, but also
in the spiritual growth of the caregivers) is a necessary next step. Leaving certain
decisions in the hands of experienced church members or paid experts is wise, and
letting someone else teach the mechanics of diaper changing is prudent. Taking the
time to notice the condition of the room or make cursory observations about spiritual
formation, even if just from personal opinion, is better than nothing. But none of that
is offering theological leadership. Theological leadership comes out of understanding
who that local church is and what the church believes.
Theological leadership means setting the values of the church at work in the
church nursery and communicating that intersection with the nursery leaders in such
a way that they can and will apply the church’s identity to the inner workings of the
nursery. Ultimately, it will affect the appearance of the nursery, the actions of the
workers, the curriculum followed therein, the policies of security and care, and even
the budget allocation thereto. None of those decisions can be made haphazardly; each
must be a part of a larger strategy tied to the clear theological leadership provided
by the pastor. Having set the church’s values and priorities clearly in the minds and
hearts of the nursery leaders, pastors do not have to be a part of every decision; they
can observe the function of the nursery to know if their leadership has been followed
and applied reasonably. That is the beginning of theological leadership.
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denominational standards against which to evaluate these beliefs. Effective
leadership of any kind always begins with what is before moving on to what should
be. If there are inconsistencies or heterodoxies of belief, pastors must help their
churches resolve them. If pastors do not start with this step, any action taken in
ministry is reactionary at best and destabilizing at worst. If pastors do not appreciate
this step, they risk being constantly disappointed by their misplaced expectations,
which will likely be at odds with the intentions God has for bringing together that
unique congregation. In other words, pastors should believe that God is sovereign
over congregational identity and has provided the gifts and callings necessary for that
church to accomplish every purpose God has for that church, and it is the pastor’s
responsibility to oversee that journey.
Once the church’s theological and cultural identity has been established, the
process is repeated at the individual ministry level. Every ministry in a local church
has a set of beliefs and values (formal or informal) out of which it operates; the pastor
must bring those beliefs in line with those of the church at large, offering a vision of
what that ministry looks like in the context of that unique local church. In this article,
the focus is the worship ministry. Theological leadership in worship ministry in
particular begins with developing a robust, contextualized theology of worship. Such
a theology of worship answers the questions, “What is worship?” and, “What does
worship look like in ‘my’ church?” Many excellent books, including those mentioned
above, have answered the questions “what is worship?” and “what does the Bible say
about worship?” many times over (though without consensus),5 and they should be
taken into consideration. But rarely do those books attempt to help a pastor develop
a truly contextualized (designed to fit the unique context of a local church) theology
of worship.
Indeed, finding any example of such a contextualized theology of worship,
particularly one unbiased by the modern culture-driven “worship wars,” is difficult.
This article dives into history to find a pair of obscure but delightfully meaningful
examples. Coming from a time when pastors were the “worship leaders,” two
pastors sought specifically to influence Anglican, Presbyterian, and Baptist leaders
in the principles and practices of local church worship—if not to change their
minds than at least to have them take seriously the implications of their stated
beliefs. One, the well-respected Independent Jeremiah Burroughs, used his London
pulpit to influence the sub-committee that drew up Westminster’s Directory for
5. For additional introductory reading to this subject, consider Franklin Segler and Randall Brad-
ley, Understanding, Preparing for, and Practicing Christian Worship, 2nd ed. (Nashville: Broadman
& Holman, 1996), Ron Owens, Return to Worship: A God-Centered Approach (Nashville: Broadman
& Holman, 1999), Worship by the Book, ed. D. A. Carson (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002), Chris-
topher Ellis, Gathering: A Theology and Spirituality of Worship in Free Church Tradition (London:
SCM Press, 2004), and Constance Cherry, The Worship Architect: A Blueprint for Designing Cultur-
ally Relevant and Biblically Faithful Services (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010).
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Public Worship6 and influenced many other pastors along the way. The other, the
controversial outsider John Tombes, was so challenged by his own sermons on
worship that he abandoned his original belief system, choosing instead to influence
fellow baptizers from any pulpit he could obtain. Both men tied principle to action,
a key element of theological leadership.7
6. The Directory, a careful product of Puritan Presbyterianism, is also an excellent case study for
theological leadership in worship. It is not used here because it determined the principles of worship
for churches rather than help them determine for themselves. The Directory can be found at http://
reformed.org/documents/wcf_standards/index.html.
7. This author discovered these two men while researching influences on the early English Baptists.
For more about Burroughs, see Matthew Ward, Pure Worship: The Early English Baptist Distinctive
(Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2014), 9, 119–120, 151, 161; for more about Tombes, see Ward, Pure Wor-
ship, 15, 21–23, 61, 120, 124, 146, 157.
8. Jeremiah Burroughs, Gospel-Worship, or, The Right Manner of Sanctifying the Name of God in
General (London: Cole, 1658). These fourteen sermons were published posthumously.
9. Burroughs, Gospel-Worship, 10. The grammar has been updated to improve clarity.
10. Burroughs, Gospel-Worship, 81.
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the actions he found in the Bible with the attitudes he believed must correspond
therewith. Preaching is a combination of preparing the soul to hear God’s truth and
then making that soul answerable thereunto. The preacher’s role is to learn that truth,
present it clearly, and offer uniquely measurable application; the worshiper’s role is
to listen attentively, submit willingly, and apply diligently. Nationalized forms of
worship violate this basic principle by removing personal preparation and application
on the part of the worshiper and the preacher. The Lord’s Supper, being so central
in Anglican worship, received an extremely concrete treatment. Burroughs believed
the Bible to be clear in its description of the observance: the church must gather
around the same table (near as possible); the pastor must take, bless, break, and then
give the bread and cup (in that order); and the celebrants must focus on the death of
Christ while partaking of the elements. The Lord’s Supper is the prime example of
a form of worship; it must be approached properly and performed properly. Finally,
with respect to prayer, Burroughs summarized that the matter of prayer must be
God’s will and glory and all people’s good, and the manner of prayer must be with
understanding and from the soul.
Burroughs’s sermons drip with a balanced treatment of Scripture, but that
treatment does not overcome the limitation of Burroughs’s theology of worship:
what is an “inferred” command in worship? Consider debates over the Lord’s Supper
from that era. Could women be allowed to partake of the elements? Must everyone
recline around the table? Should the Lord’s Supper be conjoined with footwashing?
Burroughs’s emphasis on the worshiper’s heart compounded some problems,
preaching that “the Lord doth look more to the principle from whence a thing comes,
than at the thing itself.”11 Some hearers took this to mean that sincerity was more
important that accuracy. Consequently, Burroughs’s followers stumbled through
continuous debates over worship and had difficulty agreeing on clear parameters
within which those debates should occur. In other words, Burroughs failed to develop
a fully consistent theology of worship or communicate it thoroughly. But even then,
Burroughs’s churches were well-regarded for their example, owing to his strong and
consistent personal leadership.
11. Burroughs, Gospel-Worship, 67. Realize that to Burroughs, a truly sincere Christian worship
sincerely desires to worship God according to the rule God has given for His worship. This statement
should not be interpreted to say that being a right worshiper is more important than offering right
worship; the two cannot be separated.
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exile. Whereas Burroughs preached in concrete terms about the actions of worship,
Tombes preached more about principles. But the message was similar: “they that
are right worshipers worship the true God by the true Mediator according to the
true rule, that is, they worship the true God according to His own prescription and
appointment, not according to men’s devices and inventions.”12 Right worshipers can
be identified by the right end of exalting God, the right principle of both the Spirit
of God and faith in Jesus Christ, and the right affection—the desire to worship in
spirit and in truth. Tombes focused on exactly why God rejects will-worship: “what
is devised by man [to worship God] comes from a corrupt and foolish heart, and
such a corrupt fountain must needs send forth but puddle water;” God sees even the
finest human innovation in worship as “childish, apish, theatrical and ridiculous.”13
As with Burroughs, Tombes’s approach echoed the regulative principle of worship,
but Tombes used a very different guiding principle for his theology of worship.
Tombes’s explanations of and arguments against will-worship reveal a simple,
but powerful, theological impulse: “it [will-worship] opposes the manifestation of the
clear light of the gospel.”14 To Tombes, salvation meant a humble submission to God
in Christ and a lifelong connection to God in Spirit. But forms of worship invented
by men, no matter how pleasant or emotionally compelling, put sights and sounds
into worshipers’ minds that do not come from God, and such human compositions
cannot create spiritual transformation. At best, such worship makes people idolaters
by coming before God with human achievement; at worst, such worship estranges
people from God by reifying in them what Tombes calls “the Popish conceit of opus
operatum, that the work done pleases God…though they are in no way changed,
enlightened, awakened in their consciences, or altered and quickened in their
conversation.”15 Such worship is the very opposite of humble submission to God.
And the fruit of such will-worship is division among churches, bitter argument
within churches, and even the loss of Christian liberty as people begin to impose
their preferred forms of worship on others. None of those elements proceed from the
gospel of Jesus Christ.
Tombes explained, “And although I know Ceremonies invented by men are
pretended to serve for edification, yet I must profess that I never found in my reading,
or experience, that ever any person by such rites, or observances was won to the
profession of Christ, or brought to any spiritual knowledge of Christ, any true faith
or sincere obedience to him.”16 This statement could easily be a central theological
12. John Tombes, Jehovah Jireh: Or, God’s Providence in Delivering the Godly (London: Richard
Cotes, 1643), 4.
13. John Tombes, Fermentum Pharisaeorum: Or, the Leaven of Pharisaicall Wil-Worship (Lon-
don: Richard Cotes, 1643), 4. Burroughs was beloved and respected for his generous and benevolent
demeanor; Tombes was held at arm’s length for his incessant polemic.
14. Ibid., 6.
15. Ibid., 10.
16. Ibid., 7.
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axiom for worship out of which a fuller theology could be constructed: Christian
worship must embody the gospel of Jesus Christ. To Tombes, this meant more than
worship leaders should proclaim the tenets of the gospel or even that worship should
be patterned after a gospel presentation—valuable ideas which are finding traction
today—this meant that every decision made preparing for and leading corporate
worship must come from a gospel source and toward a gospel end. This idea
influenced early London Baptists before they got caught up in a number of political
and theological controversies that shifted their focus. However, because Tombes the
churchman never found a home in a church tradition, and Tombes the leader did not
have the skills to inspire followership, his influence was limited.
Those two men demonstrate the power of a theological principle of worship
and the importance of leadership. Burroughs’s puritan context led him to employ a
version of the regulative principle of worship that he thought best for his independent
church. Tombes’s acquired belief in regenerate church membership aligned him with
the Baptists and led him to draw out principles of worship rooted in the gospel of
salvation. Burroughs’s benevolence and confidence inspired a generation of admirers
(though he was too independent-minded for a truly wide impact). Tombes’s prickly
personality and caustic approach isolated him from lasting influence. Pastors today
might see one of those two principles as a foundation for their own theology of
worship, or they might be inspired to search for another. They would then combine
that principle with what they believe the Bible to say (should the Bible be a core
value to them), set it in the context of their local church’s beliefs, values, and culture,
and spin a theological web focused on coherence and cohesion. That web eventually
becomes a theology of worship.
When It Comes to Worship, One Size Does Not Fit All Churches
There are two great errors to avoid in developing this theology of worship: believing
it to be a comprehensive, step-by-step action plan for a worship service, and adopting
a plan wholesale from a popular church or book. A theology of worship is the web
of doctrines, principles, and values out of which an action plan emerges. While the
Object of worship and even most elements of worship might be seen as completely
transportable between local churches within one’s church tradition, worship services
are enacted by unique congregations; the people of those churches have unique skills
of musicianship, recitation, and technology, as well as unique resources (or lack
thereof) to bring to bear on their worship services. When theological leadership in
worship is tied to specific actions or actors—such as an organ player who can rile up a
congregation just so, or a guitar player who can drop a killer lead, or a top-of-the-line
environmental projection system—and those actors are not present, the entire vision
falls apart. A theology of worship is not applied in a vacuum; it must be appropriately
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versatile for any local church setting (appreciating how much congregations change
over time).
Similarly, a theology of worship is not developed in a vacuum, and this is the great
trap of the popular church or book. The promoted one-size-fits-all worship service,
even from the author with no claimed theological bias or the “non-denominational”
church, was developed out of a specific theological context—one that the reader
may not share, and one that the author may not even consciously identify. Pastors
must understand the theologies out of which models for worship have emerged so
that they can understand how such models might reasonably intersect their local
church context. (And to echo the previous point, those books were written without
any knowledge of the unique local congregation or the skills and resources contained
therein. References to technology, musicianship, liturgics, or even basic song
leadership might not apply to a church until certain skills are cultivated.) Popular
books about corporate worship are not necessarily helpful to a local church.
But church members and worship leaders may not know that, and they may
propose to adopt a wide range of suggestions and examples from those popular
books or popular church’s services. That is fine and healthy; it means they are paying
attention to the wide world and willing to bring ideas to church leadership. It also
provides priceless opportunities for leadership—beginning with understanding
what kind of suggestion is being made. Pastors must learn to distinguish a principle
from an application. Most input from church members will likely involve a specific
song, a specific musical instrument, a specific vocal technique, or a specific piece
of technology; those are applications of a theology of worship—the “what” (and
will be addressed below). Theological leadership listens for the “why.” When church
or staff members begin explaining why a song or instrument should be introduced,
that discussion can be more easily processed through a theology of worship. Pastors
must process it first themselves and then use the opportunity to help the member
“think theologically,” meaning understand the theology out of which the suggestion
springs and how that theology meshes with that of their church. This is not done
condescendingly, like a guru to a seeker, but together, like fellow travelers. Pastors
do not have to have every answer to provide strong leadership, but they must be able
to guide the church and church leaders to that answer.
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previous observation about the irrelevance of titles and degrees and even experience
applies here. What does the worship leader actually know and understand of theology
and denominational identity? An effective pastor engages church leaders based on
who they are while maintaining a vision of who they could (should) be. An effective
pastor also recognizes the relationship between skill sets. The ability to direct a choir
does not necessarily include the ability to select octavos best suited to that choir’s
skill, let alone ones appropriate musically and theologically for that church. Likewise,
the ability to play an instrument and sing has nothing inherent to do with worship
leadership. Pastors must understand—with the helpful observations of trusted church
members—the strengths of their worship leaders. Then, with the help of church
leadership in the context of their theology of worship, pastors must also understand
what skills the church needs those leaders to have. As the theological leader, pastors
must find ways to build up their worship leaders in those necessary skills (not the
least of which would be theological acumen) and then help them apply those skills
within their working theology of worship.
Yes, that is easier said than done. Some pastors will find that their worship
leaders do not have the gifts or callings appropriate to the needs and realities of
their church and must ask whether they can realistically develop them. Some pastors
will find that they themselves do not have the communication skills necessary to
work effectively with the existing church staff and must ask if they can realistically
develop them. Many pastors will discover that personality conflicts (and character
flaws/sin) get in the way. Staff members, particularly those being stretched in areas
not part of their training, want to justify expectations and prove their competence,
and the process of learning and applying a theology of worship requires humility,
self-reflection, patience, and hard work on the part of both the worship leaders and
pastors. Furthermore, musicians can have unique personalities that pastors may not
understand.17 The starting point to overcoming these obstacles is a strong pastoral
relationship, one in which the worship leaders see “the” pastor as “their” pastor. Such
a relationship will not fix communication problems, but it will give all parties the
desire to pursue a resolution.
The obstacles will go beyond the communication process. Pastors must
understand that their ideas may be challenged. Disagreements may be voiced
unpleasantly. If there are any inconsistencies in their theology, those will be revealed.
Conclusions may run counter to original intentions. Pastors must be humble and
patient enough to hear and engage input, disagreement, and debate. Pastors must
maintain constructive boundaries of that debate. If the pastor resorts to a “my way or
the highway” tactic, this process will fail, and the pastor will be revealed not to be a
17. This observation comes from two decades of being a musician. For further reading on this
subject, consider Rory Noland, The Heart of the Artist (Zondervan, 1999). Noland is a former wor-
ship leader at Willow Creek Community Church and founder of another valuable resource, Heart of
the Artist Ministries.
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theological leader. (Note: that pastor may be able to operate the church like a theater
for a time, but it will eventually collapse under the weight of a cult of personality.)
If church leadership proves intractable, then the pastor should be concerned. And
the pastor should decide whether to be more concerned with the thoughts of people
or of God.
But when this process unfolds under the superintendence of the Holy Spirit, a
proper theology of worship will steer pastors and church leaders away from such
land mines. Arguments will not be made based on opinion and preference, but on
a shared sense of what is right in the sight of God and the identity of the church.
The church will know that the pastor intends to guide the church a certain direction
with reason, and they will know the safe limits within which they can constructively
criticize that direction, knowing that the pastor will not only speak in love, but
also listen in love. Worship leaders who understand and are a part of a church’s
theology of worship will be the pastor’s greatest allies, putting their creativity and
ingenuity to work in harmony of this theology. Worship leaders who trust and have a
meaningful relationship with the pastor will warn of undercurrents of discontent or
identify a crisis before it comes to pass. Worship leaders will not have to cope with
vague statements such as “I want us to be more contemporary.” Likewise, pastors
can help worship leaders fill their roles with greater confidence and the freedom of
understanding the boundaries and the support they have from the church.
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emphasizes sacred space, then the pew, being more associated with the traditional
church building, might be the better choice. If a key value is respect for elders, then
it could be a question of comfort (padded chair) or tradition (pew). None of those
emphases are mutually exclusive, which means that the theology of worship helps
pastors and worship leaders make intentional decisions based on a consistent balance
or priority of theological principles and values.
Some applications are more complex than they might first appear. Jeremiah
Burroughs placed a high value on scripture, but he was not satisfied with a weekly
reading of scripture. Rather, his entire worship service was drawn from the pages of
the Bible. Similarly, John Tombes placed a high value on the gospel, but he was not
satisfied with a basic post-sermon invitation. Rather, he sought to craft a worship
service in which every element reinforced the story of Jesus Christ. The words of
the sermon are not enough to evaluate; neither are the words of the songs. Every
rubric (transitional statements and interjections) and gesture and pause and sequence
equally tells the story of worship. And pastors can lead their churches and worship
leaders to take them seriously.
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because that person may not be interested in the challenge of theological application
is the musical equivalent of caring more about the outward appearance than the heart.
The prospect of losing a talented musician can be discouraging—every church fears
a poorly-led service—but fear cannot outweigh hope. It is amazing what careful (and
caring) theological leadership can accomplish.
Pastors might also fear the potential power struggle that this process might
instigate, either between the pastor and a well-paid and well-liked worship leader,
or the pastor and a powerful faction in the congregation. For example, older deacons
who happen to be important financial contributors of a church may resist cultural
changes in a worship service designed to reflect a younger or multiracial element of
the congregation. That response is simple. Fear of anything except the Lord Himself
cannot be a factor in the exercise of theological leadership. Prudence, however, can
be. Prudence asks the question behind the question. If a potential change in worship
practices will almost certainly cause a split in the church, is that change truly best for
that church? Does that change have to be implemented immediately? If a pastor and
church leadership truly believe that such a change is necessary and best for a church,
should there not be a way that church can embrace it?
The attitude toward any fear must always be the same. If fear can dictate theology
in a local church, then that church is in serious trouble, and that pastor has utterly
failed in providing theological leadership. Of course, the same can be said for any
decision motivated by something outside of that church’s theology of worship. If a
pastor wants to make a change out of envy, or out of vanity, or based on an experience
at another church, or any number of other inappropriate motivations, that church is
in trouble. And sometimes change born out of a good motivation can still be wrong
for that church. The beauty of a theology of worship is its ability to snuff out such
failures. Decisions made for an inappropriate reason can be quickly identified, as can
decisions made toward an inappropriate end. Those paths can be cut off before they
are even brought before church members, let alone implemented.
Pastors are the worship leaders of every local church. They help guide the church
in identifying a theology of worship. They work with worship leaders in refining that
theology and applying it to the worship services. They do not have to be experts in
music, technology, or anything else if they have a humble commitment to learning
from the Bible, listening to the congregation, and being a pastor to the worship
leaders. But that process of constructing and applying a theology of worship is not
an end unto itself. Pastors should never lose sight of their ultimate purpose as the
church’s worship leader: to lead their churches in the worship of Almighty God for
the gift of Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. If the process ever becomes discouraging,
or the people get sidetracked by questions of lesser importance, pastors can always
take refuge in their truest role as worship leader, that of the lead worshiper. Time
spent with God in corporate worship is the great rejuvenator of every process. That
time will remind every pastor why this process is worth every investment.
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Joshua D. Chatraw
Introduction
When discussing apologetics with pastors, I routinely hear two types of responses
concerning method: frustration and confusion.1 While often having been taught a
particular approach that seems logical and fits within their theological tradition, they
nevertheless find the approach is too confining. “Real life discussions do not work
like that,” they tell me. The systems they learned in seminary classes made sense
but in the messiness of ministry they often fall short. Dealing with people who don’t
1. Adapted from Apologetics at the Cross by Josh D. Chatraw and Mark D. Allen. Copyright ©
2018 by Josh D. Chatraw and Mark D. Allen. Used by permission of Zondervan. www.zondervan.com.
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primarily theorize their way through life or who seem to have completely different
operational frameworks, they become either frustrated with their neighbors or
dissatisfied with apologetics as they understand it (and often both). Others are simply
confused by the various methods, and when they try to delve into the methodological
discussions they find some of the disputes akin to theological hair splitting and the
polarizing tone uninviting.2
In hopes of alleviating some of this confusion and frustration, this article will
summarize four apologetic approaches and discuss their potential strengths and
weaknesses. As you consider the opening chart, keep in mind that the views of some
apologists will not fit neatly in the center of one of the four major quadrants.3 For
example, some views might sit in one quadrant while gravitating towards another,
and one might even lie on the line between two quadrants. The soft versions of each
approach are a reminder that these four methods are not necessarily sealed off from
each other. The vertical axis divides the chart along a spectrum according to how
optimistic each approach is towards the usefulness of natural revelation apart from
special revelation.
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Classical apologists, compared to the approaches that are represented on the
right side of the graphic, tend to display a higher degree of confidence in what human
reason can accomplish apart from special revelation. They assert that reason and
evidence can be used to establish theism and the historical claims of Christianity.
Natural revelation apart from special revelation can demonstrate the high probability
of realities such as God’s existence, Jesus’ crucifixion, and even Jesus’ resurrection
from the dead. However, most would still assert that special revelation is necessary
for conversion.
4. E.g., Ps. 19:1; Lk 1:1–4; John 20:30–31; Acts 1:1–3, 26:26; Rom. 1:19–20; 1 Cor. 15:6.
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5. James K. A. Smith, Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation
(Grand Rapids: Baker, 2009), 42.
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logically from the facts” without mastering the ability to appeal to people as believing
and desiring beings.
Moreover, the Christian faith is much more than just an acceptance of facts
about God. The call of Christ is not to develop enough mental ability or academic
rigor to figure out the pathway to truth. Rather, Christianity involves many different
dimensions existing beyond a mere mental assent to facts, such as stepping out in
faith, receiving grace, submitting to Jesus, accepting mystery, and partaking in
the love of God. However, we must not construct straw men: many evidence-based
apologists would agree with the statements the previous paragraph makes about
Christianity. Still, because of their emphasis on reason, the danger remains that in
practice, evidence-based apologists may unintentionally make Christianity sound
more like the answer to a math problem than a passionate call of a loving husband to
his lost bride.
Second, evidence-based approaches can lack an appreciation for human
situatedness. Sometimes evidence-based apologists will make it sound as if they
are simply using common sense and reason recognized by all: “The truth is really
obvious, so why can’t everyone see it?” The problem is that with the advent of modern
pluralism and the sociology of knowledge, it becomes clear that there are plenty of
very intelligent people who do not see the truth Christians do as “really obvious.”
In his important work on the development of doctrine, Alister McGrath makes this
point when he writes that if apologetics is understood “as an attempt to justify the
‘rationality’ or ‘reasonableness’ of Christian beliefs on the basis of the notion of
universally valid patterns of reason and thought,” then the apologetic enterprise is
in trouble.6
McGrath is not arguing for relativism, which can be dismissed as self-
refuting. Nor is McGrath saying that there are no points of contact between believers
and those outside of the Christian community. At play here is an important distinction
between, on the one hand, what we might call basic logic—which in some sense is
universal and is used, for example, in mathematics and entailed in the law of non-
contradiction—and, on the other hand, the larger frameworks of rationality and self-
evident truths held to by certain cultures and groups in history.7 For instance, it seems
self-evident to many westerners that all humans are worthy of respect and dignity.
Certainly, Christianity has taught this and has left its mark on western culture to such
an extent that it might seem like common sense. However, belief in the dignity and
worth of all human beings is far from a universal norm embraced by all cultures in
6. Alister McGrath, The Genesis of Doctrine: A Study in the Foundations of Doctrinal Criticism
(Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1990), 199 (emphasis mine).
7. Ibid., 90.
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history.8 Thus, as the Scottish philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre has stressed, when
we are speaking about these broader claims of justice or practical rationality—even
those seemingly “obvious” to us—we must ask, “Whose justice and which rationality
are we talking about?”9 As Christians we affirm there is a true rationality rooted in
God and his gospel, but we should recognize that others assume different competing
frameworks for rationality.
If you find yourself preferring the evidence-based apologetic approaches or are
already working within classical or evidential apologetics, you ought to be aware
of and avoid the “it’s just obvious” mentality. For while your interpretation of the
evidence might seem obvious to you, those who have not assumed a Christian
framework—or at least a framework that has significant overlap to it—will often not
see it as “common sense.”
Third, ultimately Scripture should assess what makes for a “good” argument.
In determining the rules for a sound apologetic argument, some are pushing Scripture
aside in favor of autonomous human reason. This critique pointedly asks: “Who
determines what the ultimate standard is for what is true and false? How do we judge
between competing systems of rationality? Can we line up more proofs and evidence
to support our proofs and evidence?”
In addition to using reason as evidence-based methods stress, Christian
apologists should acknowledge that God’s Word has the final say in what makes for a
“good” argument. This does not mean that Christians have no connecting points with
the unbeliever or that the logic and morality of Scripture will always seem strange
to outsiders. However, at times the Bible’s logic and ethic will seem at odds with the
world around us. A divine being suffering as a human will seem foolish to many, and
in fact, some critics, horrified, have remarked, “[that] sounds like divine child abuse.”
8. See Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice: Rights and Wrongs (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2008), 311–61; Charles Taylor, Sources of Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1989), 515–18. John Gray, from a secular perspective argues that “cast off
Christian hopes” ground much of western morality: “We inherit our belief—or pretence that moral
values take precedence over all other valuable things from a variety of sources, but chiefly from
Christianity.” Straw Dogs: Thoughts on Humans and Other Animals (London: Granta, 2002), 88.
9. See Alasdair MacIntyre, Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (Notre Dame: University of Notre
Dame Press, 1988), 399. MacIntyre is not denying there are some basic laws of logic (such as the law
of non-contradiction) that are universal. Also, see McGrath, The Genesis of Doctrine, 90. Lest they be
misunderstood, neither McIntyre or McGrath are arguing for forms of fideism or blind faith against
logic. For MacIntyre, the way forward is asking which truth claims within a particular tradition of-
fers the most “explanatory power” as the last line in Whose Justice? Which Rationality? points out,
“The rival claims to truth of contending traditions of enquiry depend for their vindication upon the
adequacy and the explanatory power of the histories which the resources of each of those traditions
in conflict enable their adherents to write” (403). See Alister McGrath, Mere Apologetics: How to
Help Seekers and Skeptics Find Faith (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2012), for his take on how this should
be developed in the field of apologetics. Also see Lesslie Newbigin’s, chapter entitled, “Reason,
Revelation, and Experience” in The Gospel in a Pluralist Society (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989),
52–65 and Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue, 3rd ed. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press,
2007), xii–xiv.
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The Apostle Paul reminds us that responses like this should not surprise us: “Christ
crucified [is] a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1 Cor. 1:23). As
Christians, we must be careful to allow God’s word set the parameters for defining
a “good” argument, rather than allowing shifting cultural frameworks to decide (1
Cor. 1:25).
Consider another example: an evidence-based apologist might appeal to the
“current historical methods” as a supposed neutral arbiter of questions such as “Who
was Jesus really?” and “Did Jesus really rise again?” However, such an apologist
would be missing an important question: what are these “current historical methods”
and who has defined them? Historical methods can assume norms that work against
the framework of Christianity. Furthermore, no method works independently of the
persons applying it. That is why, for instance, twenty-first century western historians
have produced such different portraits of Jesus.10 Therefore, when referring to the
“rules of history” it is important not to imply that either “the current historical
methodology” or the historians themselves can operate as a neutral determiner of
truth. Nor do historical events interpret themselves. Special revelation is needed to
tell us what historical events ultimately mean. However, we need to be balanced.
Christian apologetics will at times rightly and productively employ what can
be called thin reasoning, playing by some of the rules of the current historical
methodology. One can appeal to human intuitions or a shared understanding of the
“good” or “rational” without supplanting the Word of God as the final authority.
Nevertheless, it is important to understand that it is not as though the methodology
of any discipline, including history, has dropped down from the sky in perfect form
so that it can be appealed to uncritically as a neutral arbiter of truth. At times, we
should use thick reasoning and be willing to pull the rug out from underneath the
very assumptions made by any given secular methodology.
10. The result of the various Quests for the historical Jesus has not been a single historical Je-
sus but instead a variety of competing portraits of the historical Jesus, which are too many to list
here. Dale Allison, who has made a career in writing extensively in the field of Jesus research, is an
example of a growing trend among scholars to question historical Jesus research as it has tradition-
ally been conducted. After noting some of the variety of the portraits of Jesus that are clearly “not
complementary but contradictory,” he points out that the Quests have only achieved agreement on
minimal and basic information about Jesus. He goes on to provide examples of how past scholarly
opinions, which were at one time accepted basically as facts among critical scholars, are now out of
favor and are viewed as misguided relics of the past.” He then adds, “This is one reason why I am al-
lergic to the phrase ‘assured critical result.’” The Historical Christ and the Theological Jesus (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 10–11. For similar sentiments see Scot McKnight, “The Jesus We’ll Never
Know,” Christianity Today 54, no. 4 (April 2010): 26; Luke Timothy Johnson, The Real Jesus: The
Misguided Quest for the Historical Jesus and the Truth of the Traditional Gospels (New York: Harper
Collins, 1996); Jonathan T. Pennington, Reading the Gospels Wisely: A Narrative and Theologi-
cal Introduction (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), also names Richard Bauckham, Markus
Bockmuehl, Richard Hays, and Francis Watson as internationally respected scholars who “question
historical Jesus studies as they have been practiced” (93). My point here is not that historical research
is unimportant. Rather, the point is that scholars themselves disagree on historical methodology, so
appealing to this methodology uncritically as a kind of neutral arbitrator for determining the “facts”
fails to do justice to the scholarly conversations that are actually occurring.
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Craig also has expressed the merit of using historical evidence prior to moving on
to the second step of the classical apologetics approach. For example, he writes, “I
certainly agree that an argument from miracles can be part of a cumulative case for
theism.”12 At another point, considering the evidence for the resurrection, Craig writes
that the historian “may indeed rightly infer from the evidence that God has acted
here in history.”13 So it seems that for Craig, the first step in the two-step classical
argument is ideal, but it might not be absolutely necessary.14
Craig serves as an example of a leading apologist who prefers the two-step
classical method, yet also shows openness by not strictly drawing a line between
which types of arguments are allowed in each stage of the two-step approach.
11. William Lane Craig, “Classical Apologetics,” in Cowan, 53. (Emphasis mine).
12. William Lane Craig, “A Classical Apologist’s Response” in Cowan, 122–23.
13. William Lane Craig, Assessing the New Testament Evidence for the Historicity of the Resur-
rection of Jesus (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 1989), 419.
14. This is what the evidentialist apologist Gary Habermas has argued, who writes that since Craig
allows historical evidence as one of the indications for theism, “while the initial step [in the two-step
approach] may be helpful, it is not mandatory.” “An Evidentialist’s Response,” in Cowan, 60.
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who seem unconcerned with other types of arguments, the hard version of evidential
apologetics is rarely adopted formally. Instead, most evidential apologists tend to be
soft evidentialists, and only say that while the classical arguments for theism can
be helpful, they are not necessary. In other words, most evidentialists believe that
the historical arguments contain enough firepower to make the case for theism and
Christianity without having to turn to the first step in classical apologetics. Gary
Habermas explains, “Typical arguments for God’s existence are frequently utilized
[by evidentialists], but unlike classical apologists, not because they are necessary.
Further, evidentialists often begin their discussions of evidence with these theistic
arguments.”15 Thus, the soft form of evidentialism is not so much a “distinct apologetic
methodology” which is never willing to use the classical two-step method than it is “a
personally preferred style of argumentation.”16
Presuppositional Apologetics
Found on the right side of the opening summarizing chart, presuppositionalists are
less optimistic, if not altogether negative, about what reason apart from special
revelation can achieve. Presuppositionalism, as its name suggests, asserts that
reasoning does not take place in a vacuum; rather, a person’s reasoning is colored by
their presuppositions or assumptions—the lenses through which they see the world.
And because non-Christians deny the true God that they know exists, they reason
with unbelieving and sinful presuppositions.
Cornelius Van Til, the father of presuppositionalism, argued that we can know
with certainty that the Christian God exists because we must presuppose him to
be rational. Thus, for many presuppositionalists, probabilistic or “best explanation”
arguments are off-limits because such arguments do not do justice to the power of the
Christian case and would give unbelievers an excuse for their unbelief. According to
Van Til, apologists who appeal to human reason actually inflame human sinfulness.
He argued that traditional apologetics reinforces human autonomy and makes
unbelievers the judge of God, when instead, as presuppositionalists assert, unbelievers
should submit to God as judge. The unbeliever’s problem is not knowledge; it is
submission.17
This raises an obvious question: Should Christians just proclaim the gospel
and forego apologetics? What is an apologist to do? The presuppositionalist, taking
seriously both the corruption of human reasoning and the inability of the unregenerate
to comprehend spiritual realities, sets out to undermine the very framework of non-
Christian thinking. The presuppositionalist asserts that the authority of the Bible should
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be the assumed starting point in apologetic discourse. As Van Til himself said, “The
only ‘proof’ of the Christian position is that unless its truth is presupposed there is no
possibility of ‘proving’ anything.”18 Thus, the goal of this apologetic approach is to
undermine a non-Christian’s worldview by demonstrating that without the Christian
God they cannot consistently claim meaning, truth, or logic—and that to the extent
that they do use such things, they are only “borrowing capital” from Christianity. This
method is referred to as the transcendental argument. By questioning an unbeliever’s
presuppositions and requiring them to justify their rationality, the apologist reduces
their position to absurdity. Once the unbeliever realizes that their current worldview
cannot provide sufficient justification, Christianity is then articulated as the only
option that makes rational sense of the world.
Presuppositionalism offers an important reminder that the Word of God, rather than
particular and local cultural frameworks of the day, should be the undergirding
framework through which Christians view reality—charting a vision for what is
good, rational, and meaningful. Scripture should be the “norming norm.” Moreover,
moral issues cannot be neatly separated from rational issues. Humans are not neutral
agents out to discover God unimpeded; rather, they are sinful beings who are limited
because they suppress the knowledge of God (Rom. 1:18–32).
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on the apologist. Thus, a variety of different kinds of arguments would be needed
in support.
Second, presuppositionalists have lacked the ability to effectively transfer
their methodology and arguments to a broad audience. Often their arguments have
not been articulated in user-friendly ways, and they have lacked needed specifics.19
It is one thing for philosophers to argue about how to ground rationality, but it is
another thing when faced with a skeptic who is raising issues about the Bible’s
reliability, someone who is struggling to believe in Jesus’ bodily resurrection, or
a Muslim asserting the self-attesting nature of the Quran. This is why almost all
biblical scholars and practitioners, no matter their apologetic tradition, end up using
a variety of kinds of both positive and negative arguments.
The way some proponents articulate this apologetics system can make it sound
like a narrow, circular argument. The presuppositionalist will rightly assert that
in some sense all reasoning assumes an authority, whether it be the authority of a
certain kind of rationality, a methodology that bases its standards on empiricism,
or, in their case, Scripture itself. And yet, if presuppositionalists do not modify their
approach to emphasize the importance of giving positive evidence for belief like
softer versions have done, it will continue to lack a broader appeal as a methodology.20
Moreover, various presuppositionalists themselves have admitted that a weakness in
the presuppositional literature is that its authors have not paid sufficient attention to
developing various types of specific arguments for Christianity.21
19. John M. Frame, Apologetics: A Justification of Christian Belief (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Pub-
lishing, 2015), xxxii–xxxiii.
20. While hardened forms of presuppositionalism claim an “absolute certain argument” for the
biblical God, they lack the specifics of showing how this is done. For this critique, see John M.
Frame, Cornelius Van Til: An Analysis of His Thought (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 1998), 400.
21. Frame writes, “As he [Habermas] points out, I too have acknowledged that weakness in the
presuppositional literature.…I am happy to recommend writings of Habermas, Craig, and others in
these areas [for Christian evidences].” “A Presuppositional Apologist’s Closing Remarks,” in Cowan,
358.
22. Greg Bahnsen, Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings and Analysis (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publish-
ing, 1998), 496–529.
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Experiential/Narratival Apologetics
For reasons that need not concern us in this essay, what I call the experiential narratival
approach has not been frequently discussed in conversations about method. Similar to
presuppositionalists, experiential/narratival (E/N) apologists stress that all evidence
and reasoning depends on a person’s particular framework, and they tend toward
pessimism regarding human reason apart from special revelation.28 But whereas
presuppositionalists seek to undermine an unbeliever’s rationality in order to show
them that they must assume Christian propositions to be rational, E/N apologists
23. Frame writes, “[W]e should be concerned to show that God is the condition of all meaning, and
our epistemology should be consistent with that conclusion.” At the same time, Frame affirms that
the transcendental argument is not a magic bullet, since its conclusion “cannot be reached in a single,
simple syllogism.” He concludes, therefore, that a transcendental argument “normally, perhaps al-
ways, requires many sub-arguments…some of [which] may be traditional theistic proofs or Christian
evidences. Frame, “Closing Remarks,” in Cowan, 360.
24. Frame, Cornelius Van Til: An Analysis of His Thought, 316.
25. Ibid.
26. John M. Frame, Apologetics to the Glory of God (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 1994), 85.
27. Ibid., 87.
28. Myron Bradley Penner, The End of Apologetics: Christian Witness in a Postmodern Context
(Grands Rapids: Baker, 2013), 53.
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interact with unbelievers by inviting them to participate in an experience and embrace
a story that fits better with the actualities of life.29
Many E/N apologists tend to deemphasize the usefulness of the traditional
proofs, and some even go so far as to question their propriety. E/N apologetics
stresses that “proofs” for Christianity rest not in logical deductions or hard evidence,
but in the lives of the community of faith and the power of the apostolic message.
Traditional “proofs” for God are problematic because they can deny the essence of
Christianity, which is a life and story to be lived out, not a series of propositional
statements that can be proven. E/N apologetics, while maintaining the importance
of orthodox beliefs such as the incarnation, suffering, and resurrection of Christ,
asserts that these truths come to us in story form and must be embraced and lived
out in order to be truly understood. Human reason and logic can be helpful in
understanding the proclamation of the gospel, but they do not ground the gospel.30 As
Myron Penner explains, “One of the serious problems for modern apologetics is that
it treats Christianity as if it were an objective ‘something’ (e.g., a set of propositions
or doctrines) that can be explained, proven, and cognitively mastered,” when instead,
“Christianity…is much more a way or an invitation to live (walk, grow) in the
truth than it is a doctrine or set of beliefs (a position) whose truth we can grasp and
cognitively master, as the modern apologetic paradigm seems to imply.”31
At this point you might be asking, “How does this practically play out in the apologetic
task?”
Christians are to “prove” the truth of Christianity not by offering people rational
arguments, but by ordering our lives around the gospel in ways that display the reality
of Jesus. A faithful Christian life is the proof for the truth of the gospel because it
“creates the conditions for the intelligibility of the truths of the Christian gospel by
publically displaying…a way of being in which its claims make sense—a life that can
only be made sense of in terms of those claims.”32
This does not mean that offering reasons for belief in Christianity is off the
table for the E/N apologist. However, their apologetic focuses primarily, and often
exclusively, on internal, intuitive reasons. In other words, the gospel story is told
and the unbeliever is asked to try it on for size. Rather than offering proofs, the E/N
apologist offers invitations for the unbeliever to see how Christianity harmonizes
with their deepest human intuitions and life experiences.
29. See Francis Spufford, Unapologetic: Why, Despite Everything, Christianity Can Still Make
Surprising Emotional Sense (New York: HarperOne, 2013), 67.
30. Ibid., 52, 132.
31. Ibid., 66
32. Ibid., 128
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33. David Skeel, while being careful to point out that analytical arguments have their place, em-
phasizes this point. See his book, True Paradox: How Christianity Makes Sense of Our Complex
World (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2014), 23.
34. Recall, for example, the opening explanation of 1 Peter 3:15 in chapter one.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
message is the reality that God has acted in human history, entering into space and
time in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. The New Testament itself clearly assumes
that historical data is important.
It is one thing to prefer the E/N approach; it is another thing to completely avoid
interacting with the historical and logical arguments for and against Christianity.
Just as the effective evidence-based apologist will seek to understand the broader
frameworks and cultures that form different backgrounds for reasoning and
interpretation, so too will the effective E/N apologist acknowledge that competing
frameworks can overlap and that historical and logical arguments can be offered—
not to coerce anyone into faith, but to persuade them by supporting and confirming
Christianity.
The works of agnostic New Testament scholar Bart Ehrman illustrates the
problem of ignoring the historical arguments for Christianity. Ehrman has written
multiple best sellers that have been absorbed by anxious Christians, former
churchgoers, and hardened unbelievers. One of Ehrman’s strengths is his ability to
take readers on a tour of what he sees as all the Bible’s problems while offering a
story, a coming of age tale: He used to be a conservative evangelical Christian, but
then he really started studying the Bible with an open mind, and he grew up. He
admitted that the Bible was filled with errors and contradictions. It was a struggle,
but he cast off the childish myths he had believed his whole life and faced up to the
hard facts: the Bible doesn’t really have the answers. Christianity isn’t true.
Ehrman’s appeal fits in what the E/N apologist’s own narrative says about how
persuasion works. In response, an E/N apologist might say, “See, a grand story is what
is really appealing. We have to tell another story—a better story!” and indeed, they
would have a point. But, Ehrman is not just telling a story. Ehrman’s anti-Christian
apologetic is persuasive because it also includes an examination of the biblical and
historical evidence.
Effective apologists will not simply reply to someone who has absorbed Ehrman’s
argument with existential appeals and a proclamation of the gospel. Ehrman and
his followers pose skeptical questions that require interaction with historical details:
“Doesn’t the Gospel of John’s high view of Jesus’ identity contradict the Synoptic
Gospels’ low view of Jesus’ identity? Didn’t Jesus’ body just get left on the cross
and eaten by animals? Wasn’t the 27-book New Testament canon created because of
a power play in the early Church? Wasn’t the New Testament forged?” Adequately
answering questions such as these requires that an apologist be aware not just of the
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frameworks and existential appeals being used, but also of the evidence associated
with these issues.35
35. In responding to Bart Ehrman, my co-authors and I sought to both help readers see the prob-
lem with his narrative, offer a story that is more in line with reality, and interact with the historical
evidence. See Darrell Bock, Josh Chatraw, and Andreas Kostenberger, Truth in a Culture of Doubt:
Engaging Skeptical Challenges to the Bible (Nashville: B&H Publishing, 2014) and the more popular
version, Darrell Bock, Josh Chatraw, and Andreas Kostenberger, Truth Matters: Confident Faith in a
Confusing World (Nashville: B&H Publishing, 2014).
36. I am specifically using Wright’s book Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense (San
Francisco: Harper, 2006) as an example of an E/N apologetic approach rather than including Wright
as a figure that necessarily represents this camp in all of his writings. Wright himself does not nor-
mally identify himself as an apologist, though he can easily be considered one of Christianity’s lead-
ing apologists. However, unlike the other softer representatives in this chapter, he has not directly
entered the apologetic methodology debate. In fact, the E/N approach is a general description for
what I have observed a variety of different Christian authors doing, who have either not articulated
their methodology in detail or, for various reasons, remain at the periphery of many of these method-
ological discussions.
37. Wright adds that these echoes “are among the things which the postmodern, post-Christian,
and now increasingly post-secular world cannot escape as questions—strange signposts pointing
beyond the landscape of our contemporary culture and out into the unknown” (Simply Christian, xi).
38. Ibid., 10.
39. Ibid., 15
40. Ibid., 55.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
What you don’t find in Simply Christian are the syllogisms or step-by-step
arguments that you encounter in traditional classical or evidential approaches.41
Wright believes that the world we live in is complex, made up of such realities as
stories, rituals, beauty, work, and belief which intertwine, to give life a rich texture.
Because it is to this complex, richly-textured world that Christianity speaks,
becoming a believer in Christ and learning the deeper kind of truth—the source of
what makes life mysterious and beautiful and profound—is more like getting to know
a person and less like memorizing a series of propositions. The fundamental problem
people have is not that they are “ignorant and need better information,” but rather
that they are “lost and need someone to come and find [them], stuck in the quicksand
waiting to be rescued, dying and in need of a new life…” It is for this reason that
Wright’s apologetic approach in Simply Christian is not to introduce people to logical
propositions, but rather to the Christian story and the person of Jesus.
Simply Christian’s softened approach is different than idealized versions, which
could be called hard E/N apologetics, in that Wright sees the importance of making
historical and evidentially-based arguments, leading him to offer short arguments for
both the reliability of New Testament gospel accounts and the historicity of Jesus’
bodily resurrection.42 But even here, Wright acknowledges that one can logically
adopt other positions. He also goes on to note the importance of how the assumptions
that make up people’s interpretive frameworks influence how they interpret
evidence.43 Simply Christian serves as an example of soft E/N apologetics because it
focuses—albeit not exclusively—on human experience and the explanatory power of
the Christian story.
A Way Forward
Imagine that a friend asks you to draw a map that would direct her to your hometown.
You enthusiastically draw her a map from your extensive knowledge only to watch
her respond with confusion. Despite your emphatic assertions that “this is definitely
the best way”, she seems unconvinced. What you may find out, however, is that you
have drawn the map coming from the opposite direction she is coming from, and
she is riding a bike rather than a car. In other words, a different route was needed.
This scenario depicts what often occurs in debates on apologetic method, when some
apologists (who advocate the hard version of the apologetic method they adhere to)
essentially say that there is only one route—theirs—that really works when taking
someone on the apologetic journey to Christianity.
However, apologists who adhere to the soft versions of their respective apologetic
method recognize there are other ways to draw the map. The interaction between
41. Ibid., 48–50, 55, 57.
42. Ibid., 113.
43. Ibid., 114.
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advocates of the soft versions suggests that they still think their apologetic map offers
the best explanation for Christianity, but they are (rightly) open to other ways to get
there. Their debates are not about whether other maps can be drawn, but rather about
which is the best map. Finding the best map, however, is not contingent on copying
some sort of eternal, universal apologetic map. No such map exists. What these
discussions among the advocates of soft versions have not emphasized enough is that
different types of apologetic maps not only can be drawn, but should be drawn. The
best apologetic map for any given situation depends on who will be using the map.
The demands of pastoral ministry underscore this point.
Pastor-Apologists, which I would suggest is an identity that all pastors
should embrace, find themselves needing to ask: Am I drawing an apologetic map
for a scientist who has a rigid methodology for determining truth? An academic
philosopher from the West? A father whose son died of cancer at the age of seven?
A devout Muslim who moved to America from the Middle East? A mother whose
son came out of the closet? A Western businessman who has it all and adheres to
a different vision of the good life than the one on offered by Christianity? A first-
generation Asian American who thinks about life in eastern categories?
As Edward Carnell wrote concerning apologetics over half a century ago, the
best apologetic maps are person-specific:
Philosophers err when they confine their attention to “universal man.” There
is only one real man: the suffering, fearing individual on the street; he who
is here today and gone tomorrow; he whose heart is the scene of a relentless
conflict between the self as it is and the self as it ought to be. Whenever a
philosopher speaks of mankind in the abstract, rather than concrete individuals
at home and in the market, he deceives both himself and all who have faith
in his teaching.44
Thus, the best maps are not drawn for “mankind in the abstract” but for “concrete
individuals.” Nor are we drawing apologetic maps for ourselves. We are drawing
maps for others, which means our apologetic should be others-centered.45 It also
means that while all of the maps should have the same final destination, the person
and work of Jesus Christ, there are various types of maps that can and should be
drawn.46
44. Edward J. Carnell, Christian Commitment: An Apologetic (Eugene: Wipf & Stock Publishers,
1957), 2.
45. Of course, for Christians everything we do, including apologetics, should first be
“God-centered.”
46. Of course, more needs to be said concerning apologetic method. With my co-author, Mark
Allen, I have tried to set out a framework for apologetic conversations that incorporates the strengths
of each the methods surveyed in this article while placing the gospel at the center. See Joshua D.
Chatraw and Mark D. Allen, Apologetics at the Cross: An Introduction for Christian Witness (Grand
Rapids: Zondervan, 2018).
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[JBTS 3.1 (2018): 80–92]
Benjamin D. Espinoza
Introduction
The evangelical church has a mixed record on racial conciliation. While many
evangelicals in the 1800’s fought alongside William Wilberforce and John Wesley
in the abolition of slavery, others such as George Whitefield embraced the practice.1
Whitefield nuanced his perspective by treating his slaves with dignity and respect,
but still accepted slavery as common practice. But ultimately, those who fought
to protect the institution of slavery were defeated, and evangelicalism has since
looked upon its history with shame. Fast forward to the civil rights movement of
the 1960’s, many evangelicals partnered with Martin Luther King, Jr. and others to
protest the unjust treatment of African-Americans in the United States. For instance,
Rev. Ashton Jones, a White pastor, was incarcerated for six months for leading an
1. Jessica M. Parr, Inventing George Whitefield: Race, Revivalism, and the Making of a Religious
Icon (Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 2015); Edward J. Cashin, Beloved Bethesda: A
History of George Whitefield’s Home for Boys, 1740–2000 (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press,
2001).
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interracial group of protestors to the First Baptist Church of Atlanta. In Jones’ words,
“You’re going into a segregated church; you must be worshiping a segregated God.”2
But other evangelicals, such as W.A. Criswell and Jerry Falwell considered racial
integration to do more harm than good.3 As the struggle for civil rights pressed on,
many evangelicals slowly accepted the new order.
In examining the situation today, we find that evangelicals tend to hold racial
and ethnic views that fail to understand the complexity of racial oppression. In
their landmark study recounted in the book Divided by Faith, Emerson and Smith
interviewed over 2,000 white evangelicals on how they perceive racial issues in the
United States.4 The study revealed that white evangelicals often do not acknowledge
systemic racism or white privilege. “Most white evangelicals, directed by their cultural
tools, fail to recognize the institutionalization of racism - in economic, political,
educational, social, and religious systems. They therefore often think and act as if
these problems do not exist.”5 In other words, White evangelicals tend to assume
that ethnic communities fail to “succeed” due to some deficiency in their motivation
or within their culture. White evangelicals would rather society was color-blind. As
Emerson and Smith note, “From the isolated, individualistic perspective of most
white evangelicals and many other Americans, there really is no race problem other
than bad interpersonal relationships.”6 The failure of White evangelicals to recognize
the plight of racially minoritized groups has continued to perpetuate the assertion of
MLK: Sunday morning at 11am is the most segregated hour in the nation.
As an evangelical Chicano (Mexican-American) and pastor theologian, I grew
concerned with how evangelicalism was handling race relations. In Summer 2017, I
conducted a study into the experiences of racially minoritized doctoral students in
evangelical seminaries across the United States. My motivation behind this project
was to explore how racially minoritized students were doing in predominantly White
theological institutions. My own experience in seminary was fruitful and I learned
plenty from my professors. But I saw that many of my fellow brothers and sisters of
color were struggling during their time there. I wanted to understand their experiences
so I could speak truth to the institutions whose goal is to train men and women
for ministry in our world today. While I primarily asked my participants questions
about their experiences in seminary, I ended with a question about how pastors and
ministry leaders could better engage in the ministry of racial conciliation. I will
include some of their answers in this paper.
2. Robert P. Jones, The End of White Christian America (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2016),
165.
3. Ibid., 170.
4. Michael O. Emerson and Christian Smith, Divided by Faith: Evangelical Religion and the
Problem of Race in America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).
5. Ibid., 170.
6. Ibid., 89.
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The purpose of my paper is to help pastor theologians develop a better grasp
on the ministry of racial conciliation. I want to highlight the work of evangelical
theologians who have grappled with racial conciliation, and how we better seek
conciliation through the power of the gospel. I then move to engage with the work
of George Yancey, whose thoughts on racism and racial conciliation serve as a guide
for moving toward a stronger ministry of racial conciliation. Finally, I develop
some implications to assist pastor theologians to build a stronger ministry of racial
conciliation in their local contexts.
Definitions
Before I begin, I would like to offer several working definitions of terms I will use
throughout this paper. I understand the ministry of the pastor theologian to be different
than that of a pastor. The pastor theologian has:
A shepherd’s heart and a pastor’s primary vocational identity, yet who
functions as an intellectual peer of the academic theologian and, as such,
produces theological scholarship for the broader ecclesial community that
helps shape and inform academic, cultural, and ecclesial discussions with a
view to deepening the faith of the people of God.7
The pastor theologian thus functions in the third space between being a steward of
Christ’s church, but engaging theological discussion in the local church, the universal
church, and the academy.
The terms “race” and “ethnicity”8 are well-defined in the literature, but in sum,
I resonate with Syed and Mitchell’s definitions of these terms. “Race is considered
a socially constructed system of power that confers dominance on the majority and
marginalization on the minority. In contrast, ethnicity corresponds to the cultural
history, beliefs, and practices of a relatively well-defined group.”9 Race and ethnicity
are often linked though they are not exactly the same, as Syed and Mitchell point out.
7. Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson, The Pastor Theologian, Resurrecting an Ancient Vision
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2014), 16.
8. For further discussion on race and ethnicity, see Janell Williams Paris, “Race: Critical Thinking
and Transformative Possibilities,” 9–32; and Eloise Hiebert Meneses, “Science and the Myth of Bio-
logical Race,” 33–46. in Robert J. Priest and Alvaro L. Nieves, This Side of Heaven Race, Ethnicity,
and Christian Faith (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).
9. Moin Syed and Laura L. Mitchell, “How Race and Ethnicity Shape Emerging Adulthood,” in
The Oxford Handbook of Emerging Adulthood, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).
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Benjamin D. Espinoza: Pastor Theologians, the Gospel
the distinction between “gospel issues” and “social justice issues,”10 while many
evangelical theologians have made the case that the gospel and racial conciliation go
hand in hand.
Gombis writes that traditional evangelicalism has removed the gospel from
its corporate and cosmic dimensions.11 As we read in Genesis, sin has broken all
relationships: our relationship with God, our relationship with each other, and our
relationship with creation. “Whereas all aspects of creation and God’s relationship
to creation were fully integrated and characterized by trust and openness and
full sharing and fellowship, things are now utterly broken, and sin is carried out
within broken relationships…So even before we’re out of Genesis, we have murder,
incest, rape, racial strife, the enslavement of nations, and on and on.”12 The gospel
is thus a project of conciliation, restoring and redeeming broken relationships into
wholly new ones.
Gombis’ understanding of the gospel applies to racial conciliation. He argues
that the thrust of the gospel is both individual and social, as Jesus “came proclaiming
the arrival of the kingdom of God—the arrival of that new reality in which the
brokenness of creation is being restored,” a byproduct being racial conciliation.13
This ministry of racial conciliation is central to the ministry of Jesus:
He is constantly going to the outsider and to the ones who are broken,
always challenging the social, ethnic, and racial assumptions of Israel—the
Syrophoenician woman, the Samaritan, the centurion, the tax-collector, the
prostitute, his invitation of women into his inner circle. Jesus’ disciples,
because they are sinful humans, are always wanting to draw lines around their
privilege with Jesus, just as the Jews wanted to view themselves as having
the inside track with God, excluding others, especially those despicable
Gentiles. But Jesus announces the arrival of the kingdom to all people, and
calls everyone to receive salvation, and calls his disciples to be servants of
all—especially outsiders. And this should not be a threat to us, since before
the grace of God invaded our lives, we too were outsiders!14
The ministry of Jesus becomes more complex when we consider the social
location of the Nazarene. Otis Moss III writes that in order to understand the ministry
of Jesus, we need to understand His place in the first-century world—as a racial,
10. Randy White, “I Don’t Understand the Evangelical Response to Ferguson,” Retrieved Oc-
tober 15, 2017, from http://www.randywhiteministries.org/2014/11/26/dont-understand-evangelical-
response-ferguson/. White goes as far as to say, “If there is something Biblical that expresses racial
reconciliation as a gospel demand, I’ve missed it.”
11. Timothy Gombis, “Racial Conciliation and the Gospel,” ACT Review (2006),117–128.
12. Ibid., 119.
13. Ibid., 120.
14. Ibid., 120.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
ethnic, and religious minority.15 Thus, while it is our tendency in the United States
to suggest that Jesus “reached out” to those on the social and religious margins, we
fail to realize that Christ Himself was on the margins. This re-centering of Jesus’
ministry on the margins based on historical context radically shapes the way we read
Scripture and our approach to ministry; reading Scripture on the margins enables
us to challenge our assumptions, better understand the perspectives of others, and
expand our theological imaginations.
Like Gombis, D.A. Carson suggests that the gospel is intricately tied to the
project of racial conciliation. To seek racial conciliation is not simply a “nice thing to
do,” but is rooted rather in Christ’s redemptive work on the cross and in Paul’s effort
to build multiethnic, multicultural churches:
Certainly the majority of Christians in America today would happily aver
that good race relations are a gospel issue. They might point out that God’s
saving purpose is to draw to himself, through the cross, men and women from
every tongue and tribe and people and nation; that the church is one new
humanity, made up of Jew and Gentile; that Paul tells Philemon to treat his
slave Onesimus as his brother, as the apostle himself; that this trajectory starts
at creation, with all men and women being made in the image of God, and
finds its anticipation in the promise to Abraham that in his seed all the nations
of the earth will be blessed. Moreover, the salvation secured by Christ in the
gospel is more comprehensive than justification alone: it brings repentance,
wholeness, love for brothers and sisters in the Christian community. But the
sad fact remains that not all Christians have always viewed race relations
within the church as a gospel issue.16
Carson goes on to say that White evangelicals and evangelicals of color continue
to see both sides of the question differently. Whereas Christians of colors would
contend that racial conciliation is a crucial gospel issue, White Christians are “more
likely to imagine that racial issues have so largely been resolved that it is a distraction
to keep bringing them up.”17
Timothy Cho eloquently ties the gospel to racial conciliation, articulating a
vision of the gospel that actively confronts the sin of racism:
Racism, ethnocentricity, and racial superiority are clearly not simply “social
issues” that Christians can ignore. They are ideologies that seek to attack the
gospel at its core. It is in the best interest of Christians to respond to these
anti-gospel ideas with a robust picture of the gospel—a gospel that claims that
15. Otis Moss III, Blue-Note Preaching in a Post-Soul World (Louisville, KY: Westminster John
Knox, 2014).
16. D.A. Carson, “What are Gospel Issues?” Themelios 39 (2): 217–218
17. Ibid., 218.
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Benjamin D. Espinoza: Pastor Theologians, the Gospel
all people are equally guilty before a holy God but who can be recipients of
grace if they trust in Christ.18
Racism is thus an affront to the grace of God and a confirmation of our inherent
sin nature. While it is within our DNA to assume a posture of superiority to others,
society has actively perpetuated systemic racism.19 As Christians, we must name and
confront individual and systemic racism by critical examination of our own hearts
and advocacy for a more equitable society.
Furthermore, we can ground the project of racial conciliation in the Triune
nature of God. Catherine LaCugna describes how inclusiveness, community, and
freedom come together to form a powerful rationale for racial conciliation:
Inclusiveness entails accepting a person in light of our own common
humanity. Community points to interrelatedness at every level of reality, and
contradicts those forces destructive to genuine community, especially sexism
and racism. Freedom and its corollary, responsibility, belong to the exercise
of personhood under conditions of genuine community. Perichoresis ... is thus
the ‘form of life’ for God and the ideal of human beings whose communion
with each other reflects the life of the Trinity.20
Our common life in the Triune God and our God-bearing image instills within us
a desire to seek conciliation with others. The project of racial conciliation thus flows
out of our union with God in Christ, transforming our souls and the communities we
inhabit. Ultimately, the gospel is the means by which God has chosen to reconcile
Himself to us and others; the gospel is what brings true inclusiveness, community,
and freedom.
The gospel is a call to conciliation with both God, fellow humans, and creation.
One aspect of the gospel project is racial conciliation. The church thus carries the
responsibility to actively seek racial conciliation, and pastor theologians bear “the
primary responsibility of overseeing local performances” of the gospel.21
18. Timothy Isaiah Cho, “Is Racism a Social Issue or a Gospel Issue?” Retrieved October 20, 2017
from
h t t p s : / / c c c d i s c o v e r. c o m / i s - r a c i s m - a - s o c i a l - i s s u e - o r - a - g o s p e l - i s s u e / ? u t m _
content=bufferd4411&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer
19. George Yancey, Beyond Racial Gridlock: Embracing Mutual Responsibility (Downers Grove:
IVP, 2006); Emerson & Smith, Divided by Faith.
20. Catherine Mowry LaCugna, God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life (San Francisco: Harper
San Francisco, 1991), 272–273.
21. Kevin Vanhoozer, The Drama of Doctrine: A Canonical-Linguistic Approach to Christian
Theology (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2005), 448.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
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Benjamin D. Espinoza: Pastor Theologians, the Gospel
problem is not that Black and Latino youth are incapable of flourishing academically;
the problem is that their schools are not as well-funded as the schools of their White
counterparts. Whereas those who embrace an individualist definition of racism may
attribute the issue to individual ability, work ethic, or cultural differences.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
recognizes that racism is an issue of the heart and of the system. The pervasiveness
of racism requires the church to attack this sin on all fronts. Moreover, instead of
adopting hostile approaches to engaging the ministry of racial conciliation, this model
prescribes conversation between Whites and racially and ethnically minoritized
groups. In essence, all parties must come together to envision a future for the church
that no longer tolerates racism in any form.
30. Troy Borst, “Homiletical Textbook Study: What Are Seminaries Across Traditions Using to
Teach the Next Generation of Preachers?” Evangelical Homiletics Society 15.2. (2015): 38–49.
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Benjamin D. Espinoza: Pastor Theologians, the Gospel
works written from non-persons of color. While this may not inherently be wrong,
it does assume that exegesis and theology from the perspective of a White person is
“neutral” or “objective” or even “normal.” Such an assumption fails to account for
the fact the perspective of white men is simply that—a perspective. Several of my
participants noted that most of the textbooks they had read in seminary were written
by white men, and some asked their professors if they could read a book written by a
person of color instead (the professors were always happy to oblige).
As the United States continues to grow more and more diverse, and
evangelicalism continues the same trend,31 it is imperative that pastor theologians
engage and embrace the theological perspectives of persons of color. The work of
James Cone in The Cross and the Lynching Tree provides a useful starting point
in engaging with, and understanding the perspective of Christians of color.32 For
Cone, matters of racial conciliation are inherently gospel issues and thus impact our
broader witness to the world. “What is at stake is the credibility and promise of the
Christian gospel and the hope that we may heal the wounds of racial violence that
continue to divide our churches and our society.”33 For Cone, the cross of Christ and
the lynching trees adorned with Black bodies have vivid connections. Jesus was a
racial, ethnic, cultural, and religious minority in the Roman empire, much like Black
slaves were during the time of slavery, and people of color continue to be in society.
The comparison of the cross to the lynching tree is a stark reminder of the ways
in which people of power in society have always sought to oppress those with less
power. For early Christians (who were generally poor and Jewish), the Romans and
the Jewish religious elite were the oppressors. White Christians used their social and
economic power to oppress black Christians. Conceptualizing race relations as being
rooted in the cross of Christ enables us to center the experiences of marginalized
peoples and seek racial conciliation rooted in the gospel of Christ.
Reading theology from non-white perspectives will no doubt challenge the
thought of pastor theologians, especially as they confront systemic injustices,
privilege, and a different perspective on the gospel. But in order to fully embrace
the riches of the Christian tradition, we must not only explore the historic works of
the faith, but also the work of those whose perspective is deeply rooted in a history
of oppression. Engaging the work of theologians of color will enables us to bring a
more conscious perspective to our theological work, and broaden the ways in which
we speak into current events from a theological perspective.
31. Mark T. Mulder, Aida I. Ramos, and Gerardo Marti, Latino Protestantism: Growing and Di-
verse (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2017).
32. James Cone, The Cross and the Lynching Tree (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2013).
33. Cone, The Cross and the Lynching Tree.
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
34. Joaquin, interview by author, Zoom video software, June 15, 2017.
35. Christi, interview by author, Zoom Video Software June 20, 2017.
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Benjamin D. Espinoza: Pastor Theologians, the Gospel
Pastor theologians must remain sensitive to the ways in which the ecclesial
culture they have perpetuated has become normalized and neutral, privileging
dominant cultural values over those of racial and ethnic minorities. For instance,
styles of music, attire, preaching and teaching styles, service activities, and even
theological viewpoints may be the dominant preferences of those in the church. But
we must remain self-reflective, and ask if these preferences are marginalizing people
from diverse racial and ethnic backgrounds.
36. Michael Frost, “Colin Kaepernick vs. Tim Tebow: A Tale of Two Christians on Their Knees,” Re-
trieved October 25, 2017 from https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2017/09/24/
colin-kaepernick-vs-tim-tebow-a-tale-of-two-christianities-on-its-knees/?utm_term=.4543895677a4
37. Ibid.
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they sat with him for a week in silence (Job 2:3). It is imperative that as our brothers
and sisters of color struggle and experience the pain of deep historical wounds, we as
pastor theologians must grieve with them, be with them in their hurt, and listening
to their concerns.
When we as pastor theologians write a theological piece for the benefit of the
church, we must make sure that we are conscious of the diverse histories that our
audiences share. While some pastor theologians may never have experienced racism
or systemic oppression, it is our responsibility to be quick to listen and slow to
speak. In our society, however, Christians expect their pastors to express a particular
viewpoint regarding current events, but pastor theologians must empower their
parishioners to listen better and understand the viewpoints of others.
Conclusion
Racial conciliation is challenging but worth the effort. To become the multicultural,
multiethnic body of Christ, we must be intentional with our words and with our
actions. To be effective pastor theologians who lead churches that become centers of
racial conciliation and theologically advocate for the perspective of the marginalized,
we must be quick to listen, slow to respond, eager to include, and hopeful for change.
Ultimately, the project of racial conciliation is a gospel matter of which the church
and her pastor theologians must continually engage. The world is watching us as we
respond to race-based atrocities in our nation, awaiting our response, and looking
to us for a word of encouragement. As Gombis writes, “conciliation is the gospel,
and racial, or ethnic conciliation—in a divided America, and in a divided world—
provides a perfect arena to manifest and to live out the reconciling grace of God.”38
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Owen Strachan
Introduction
Nobody really knows it, but the neo-evangelical movement that sparked in the 1940s
was a revival. It was so much so, in fact, that you could argue it was akin to a Third
Great Awakening. This statement might make historians shift in their seats. Really?
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Was the effort helmed by evangelist Billy Graham, pastor Harold John Ockenga of
Boston’s Park Street Church and theologian Carl Henry of Fuller Theological Seminary
(and later Christianity Today) that consequential?1 Surely the neo-evangelicals made
some noise and founded some institutions, but does the fruit of their labors constitute
something so spiritually resplendent as an “awakening”? Evangelicals, after all,
judiciously conserve their usage of this term; they can be miserly with their historical
assessments, and might balk at rendering the postwar evangelical renaissance a third
epoch of Christian growth and health.
But though counter-arguments do come to mind, one can make a reasonable case
that something truly unique took place in this era.2 The preaching of Billy Graham
led to many conversions, and Bible-loving congregations grew precipitously3; the
founding of the National Association of Evangelicals, CT, and Fuller Seminary
established a new institutional identity for biblically-conservative Protestants4; a
sprawling, thriving network of parachurch ministries, colleges and universities, and
new media sprung up ex nihilo, many of which still exist and even grow in the current
day.5 All of America experienced a postwar religious boom, as is well-chronicled,6
but this does not obscure the reality that evangelicals made massive gains in this
1. For the definitive take on Ockenga, see Garth M. Rosell, The Surprising Work of God: Harold
John Ockenga, Billy Graham, and the Rebirth of Evangelicalism (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008); also
Owen Strachan, Awakening the Evangelical Mind: An Intellectual History of the Neo-Evangelical
Movement (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2015); for more on Henry, see Bob E. Patterson,
Carl F. H. Henry, Makers of the Modern Theological Mind (Dallas: Word, 1984); Matthew J. Hall
and Owen Strachan, Essential Evangelicalism: The Enduring Influence of Carl F. H. Henry (Whea-
ton, IL: Crossway, 2015).
2. The definitive survey of the movement is Joel A. Carpenter, Revive Us Again: The Reawakening
of American Fundamentalism (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1997). For more on the evangelical left
as it developed out of neo-evangelicalism, consult David Swartz, Moral Minority: The Evangelical
Left in an Age of Conservatism (Philadelphia: Univ. of Pennsylvania Press, 2012).
3. Grant Wacker, dean of Graham historians, offers one statistical overview of the effect of Gra-
ham’s globe-spanning preaching. According to the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, beginning
with 1937 and continuing to the end of the evangelist’s public ministry, attendance at crusades totaled
82,774,083, with inquirers coming in at 4,563,436. Though Graham’s theology and evangelistic
practices are widely-debated, no man in history has preached to more people; no man in history has
seen more people respond with interest to his message. See Grant Wacker, America’s Pastor: Billy
Graham and the Shaping of a Nation (Cambridge: Belknap, 2014), 260.
4. See Arthur Matthews, Standing Up, Standing Together: The Emergence of the National Associa-
tion of Evangelicals (Carol Stream, Ill.: National Association of Evangelicals, 1992); Stephen Board,
“Moving the World with Magazines: A Survey of Evangelical Periodicals,” in American Evangelicals
and the Mass Media, ed. Quentin J. Schultze (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1990), 171–95; George
Marsden, Reforming Fundamentalism: Fuller Seminary and the New Evangelicalism (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1987).
5. Collin Hansen and John Woodbridge devote a chapter in their helpful book on revivals to the
neo-evangelical boom, and conclude as follows about it: “the revivals of the late 1940s and early
1950s carved out space for a vibrant, diverse evangelical movement that survives today.” See Collin
Hansen and John Woodbridge, A God-Sized Vision: Revival Stories That Strengthen and Stir (Grand
Rapids: Zondervan, 2010), 175.
6. See Robert Ellwood, The Fifties Spiritual Marketplace: American Religion in a Decade of
Conflict (Rutgers University Press, 1997).
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period, gains that swell in importance when compared to the challenging first four
decades of the twentieth-century.7 It was almost as if the Lord let the light dim in
the prewar years in order to prepare his church for something remarkable in the
postwar years.
Something remarkable did indeed this way come in the mid-twentieth century.
Just as the First Great Awakening reset the ecclesiastical paradigm along gospel-
demarcated lines in the 1700s, and just as the Second Great Awakening redrew
the Protestant map through the explosion of upstart groups like the Baptists and
Methodists, so the Third Great Awakening of the neo-evangelical years fundamentally
recalibrated and repositioned evangelicalism for unprecedented expansion and
activity.8 Neo-evangelicalism would not make good on all its aims, of course; the
movement ultimately faltered. But this should not—must not—obscure the truth that
evangelical prospects looked quite different after the 1970s, to cite one chronological
benchmark, than they did before them.9
Many individuals contributed to this galaxy-formation. Upon close reflection,
however, three rise to the fore. With Billy Graham, Ockenga and Henry formed
the three horsemen of the Neo-Evangelical Resurgence. Unlike Graham, Ockenga
and Henry have received relatively little academic and ecclesial treatment. It is the
purpose of this article to explore Ockenga’s significance for the current day, as the
twenty-first century church’s experience mirrors that of the neo-evangelicals some
60–70 years ago.10
In the pixels that follow, we shall see that, in a doctrinally-deficient era like ours,
Ockenga offers the rising generations of pastors a faithful model to which to aspire
and, God allowing, assume. This matters, for it appears we are in the midst of our
own awakening or revival—though how this whole work of God wears, and what
trajectory it ultimately takes, we cannot know.
7. Garth Rosell terms the neo-evangelical enterprise a “surprising work of God,” using the familiar
phrase of awakener Jonathan Edwards, and considers the movement an “evangelical awakening.” See
Rosell, The Surprising Work of God, 14–16.
8. For an authoritative overview of the First Great Awakening, see Thomas Kidd, The Great Awak-
ening: The Roots of Evangelical Christianity in Colonial America (New Haven, Conn.: Yale Univ.
Press, 2007); for the same on the Second Great Awakening, see Nathan O. Hatch, Democratization of
American Christianity. (New Haven-London: Yale University Press, 1989).
9. Newsweek famously declared 1976 the “Year of the Evangelicals,” as one benchmark. Kenneth
L. Woodward, “Born Again! The Year of the Evangelicals,” Newsweek, October 25, 1976.
10. Compare the remarks by Ockenga in his inaugural message at Fuller Seminary, entitled “The
Challenge to the Christian Culture of the West.” See Strachan, Awakening the Evangelical Mind,
115–19.
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complete a PhD at Pittsburgh; he had to preach up a storm in a growing church
(one whose sagging membership rolls he purposefully pruned).11 He could not simply
lead famous Park Street Church; he had to begin an in-house Bible school, a new
evangelical clearinghouse, and a network of rising academic stars.12
But what most stood out about Ockenga was this: he was a pastor who preached
the Word. He loved the Bible, and he loved to preach the Bible. He memorized his
sermons, and then went into the pulpit and delivered them flawlessly.13 He prayed for
hours for spiritual power to flood his ministry, and then declaimed his messages as
if the Holy Spirit genuinely backed him. Ockenga did not hold back theologically;
reading his sermons today, one senses they could double as a classroom lecture in an
ambitious MDiv elective. Ockenga was a homiletical force of nature.
Ockenga did not grow up in the Reformed tradition. He did not have deep
spiritual roots in Dutch Calvinism or Princetonian theology. But he gravitated to
the stout stuff from a young age. J. Gresham Machen’s culture-defying stand caught
his eye in the 1920s, and Ockenga yearned to study under Machen and men like
him.14 So he did, matriculating first at Princeton and later at Westminster Theological
Seminary. Ockenga had caught a hunger for rock-ribbed doctrine, as extant sermons
from this period and later ones show. But Ockenga did not merely want to treasure
up sound doctrine in his heart. He realized that the truth would burn a hole in your
pocket if you stowed it away. He yearned to preach it, and so he did, first in Pittsburgh,
later in Boston, and everywhere he could.
We get a flavor of the Ockengan pulpit in the following, a summary of Christ’s
role as intercessor for his people:
Christ ascended to the place of intercession, for He ever lives to make
intercession for us. There He entered upon His eternal priesthood as advocate
and divine helper. That was the beginning of His mediatorial kingdom as
priest-king over His people and in that intercession He guarantees the security
of His people through His own prayers. What He said to Peter may be said
to us, “I have prayed for you that your faith will not fail.” Thank God for the
11. The first biography of Ockenga is still an interesting source of material for Ockenga’s years in
Pittsburgh— Harold Lindsell, Park Street Prophet: A Life of Harold John Ockenga (Wheaton, Ill.:
Van Kampen, 1951). The time at Point Breeze Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh went swimmingly
in more ways than one. The Sunday school grew to more than four hundred people; the church added
a sixty-voice choir; it also retired the mortgage even as the greatest economic depression in American
history unfolded.
12. For more on Ockenga’s ministry at Park Street, consult Garth M. Rosell, Boston’s Historic
Park Street Church: The Story of an Evangelical Landmark (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2009), 53–54;
Margaret Lamberts Bendroth, Fundamentalists in the City: Conflict and Division in Boston’s Church-
es, 1885–1950 (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2005).
13. See Randall Frame, “Modern Evangelicalism Mourns the Loss of One of Its Founding Fa-
thers,” Christianity Today, March 15, 1985, 36.
14. Machen grew so close to Ockenga that he called him “Ocky.” The historical record is silent
on whether Ockenga called his mentor “Machy.” See Strachan, Awakening the Evangelical Mind, 47.
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prayers of our great Intercessor. The place of triumph was the place of power.
From there He exercises sovereignty. In His resurrection form He said, “All
authority in heaven and earth is given to me.” He has been exalted to the right
hand of the Father, above all principalities and powers and every name that
is named.15
Ockenga was a skilled diplomat; he took pains not to rule non-Reformed Christians
out of the bounds of fellowship, as seen in his construction of the NAE. But neither did
he hold back in his sermons from declaring the deep things of God. In the quotation
above, he identifies Christ as the divine “priest-king” and vouches for the “security of
His people through His own prayers.” Christ “exercises sovereignty” and possesses
all authority, according to Ockenga. The pulpiteer’s strong, declarative sentences
speak to the authoritative nature of the biblical preacher. The pulpit depends on and
exists for the forthright exposition of the truth. The doctrines of the Word of God do
not bring chaos into the church; they take the broken, the needy, and the damned, and
turn them into living emblems of the glory of God.
At Park Street, Ockenga took on the mantle of no less a theologian than
Jonathan Edwards. At one point, he delivered a sermon entitled “Jonathan Edwards
and New England or the Apologetic of Protestantism.” His texts for the message
were John 3:16 and Romans 9:16. His remarks on the nature of Reformed doctrine
left no doubt about where he stood: “Whatever we may think of Calvinism, it has
produced more rugged, upright, courageous characters than any other system.”16 A
careful survey of “the history of New England and think of its intellectual lights and
its leading characters of which we Americans are justly proud” showed the fruits of
“three centuries of Calvinism, of strict adherence to the Bible teaching concerning
the nature of man, the sovereignty of God and the need of a true regeneration in life.”
While Ockenga never lost his love for Methodism, the denomination in which he was
reared, he clearly let his doctrinal flag fly.
How different was this preaching than the style which rose to popularity in
the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Ockenga’s sermons share much in
common with the old Puritan style of preaching, grounded as they were in searching
theological reflection and keen spiritual interest. The Ockengan homily was textual,
packed with testable assertions, and polished to a high sheen. Though this form of
exposition has found a sizeable (and growing) audience in our day, Ockenga’s peers
and forebears did not share his enthusiasm for such a pulpit performance, which
would have sounded staid and stuffy and over-intellectual to many churchgoers of
this era. Nathan Hatch has nicely characterized the dominant model of the 19th—and
by extension the 20th—century:
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Passionate about ferreting out converts in every hamlet and crossroads,
they sought to bind them together in local and regional communities. They
continued to refashion the sermon as a popular medium, inviting even the
most unlearned and inexperienced to respond to a call to preach. These
initiates were charged to proclaim the gospel anywhere and every day of the
week—even to the limit of their physical endurance. The resulting creation,
the colloquial sermon, employed daring pulpit storytelling, no-holds-barred
appeals, overt humor, strident attack, graphic application, and intimate
personal experience.17
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believes that he ascends the sacred desk each week in order to deliver sound biblical
doctrine discovered in a particular scriptural passage to God’s called-out flock.20
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It forms a people united by nothing other than the blood of Jesus out of a thousand
disparate people-groups, many of whom simmer with disaffection for one another
prior to conversion. Theology unites, but theology also presents the hard heart of the
unbeliever—or even the immature believer—with a choice. Then and now, many
elect to snub the truth, ignore it, turn away from it, and leave those who cling to it as
a drowning man clings to the only rock he has.
For the pastor-theologian, numbers are not the goal. A fellowship humming with
programmatic activity is not the goal.23 Community impact is not the goal. God is
the goal. God is the focus of the church. God is the only actual good in the universe.
God is the ground of being, and the hope of our hearts, and the reason why all things
exist and live rather than dying and going dormant. God has made a cosmos that
hums with life and cannot help but be purposive and all points back to his radiant
excellency, his undeniable glory, his unstoppable authority. God has desired to be
known, and so he has spoken his Word, and shepherds have the unspeakable privilege
of studying, learning, and teaching it to a gathered, called-out people. This is why
there’s a church; this is why there’s a pastor.
The pastor-theologian knows that his chief duty is not to serve unbelievers. He
wishes to evangelize them all he can, but unbelievers are not funding his very existence
and paying, by extension, his bills. It is the people of God who are his responsibility.
He has a flesh-and-blood charge, a living body, to lead and bless and train to know
God. Praise God for developments in political philosophy and the doing of politics;
praise God for the eclipse of the state church in so much of the West, with all its
attendant confusion over what makes a Christian and what constitutes a church.24
Nowhere in the Bible is a pastor called to be the spiritual leader of the ungodly; the
New Testament knows only the elder—part of a team, a team that answers to the
whole congregation—who exercises watchcare over the assembly of a localized body
of Christians. The pastor-theologian thus labors to strengthen the faith and practice
of Christ-loving men and women.
The pastor-theologian accomplishes this weighty—even impossible, in human
terms—end by giving the people endless portions of the Word of God. He feeds
them, spiritually speaking, God. So it was that Christ put it—his disciples were to eat
his flesh and drink his blood (John 6). God is not the man behind the curtain, as many
evangelical congregations have it; he is not hovering in the background, shy and
unwilling to be named, like a crowd-shy philanthropist underwriting a meaningful
charity. God is the reason the church exists, and the purpose of weekly gathering, and
the figure the pastor-theologian lives and breathes to make known.
23. See Mark Dever and Jamie Dunlop, The Compelling Community: Where God’s Power Makes
a Church Attractive (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2015).
24. An instructive book on this topic is Jonathan Leeman, Political Church: The Local Assembly as
Embassy of Christ›s Rule, Studies in Doctrine and Scripture (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2016).
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Led by the preacher, the church thus labors to center the worship-service in
God. Musicians care more about the divine than about their own performance; God’s
Word is read, and not merely for a hurried verse or two, as if the reading of Scripture
is a detour from the intended program; prayer to God is serious and consequential,
not a tossed-off, formulaic invocation before jump-starting the collection of tithes
and offerings; the Bible is exposited, as the pastor-theologian emulates Nehemiah
and “gives the sense” of the text, a “sense” that will only make sense with Christ and
his hermeneutical fulfillment in view (Nehemiah 8:8). God is the point; God is the
focus; God is reason why the church exists.
In too many churches today, the preceding words do not fit the actual behaviors
and intentions of the staff and the assembly. In such a context, Ockenga offers the
rising generation of ministers a model. He himself had this effect on at least one
formative expositor: John Piper. Struck down by illness, Piper heard Ockenga piped-
in when the Boston preacher gave chapel messages at Wheaton. He had never heard
preaching quite like that which Ockenga offered.25 Piper, the consummate pastor-
theologian of our time, has gone on to summon—as if in a personal, by-the-collar
calling-out—countless men to the pastorate. There is thus a golden chain running
through history, from Machen to Ockenga to Piper to many young men who now
work in God’s fields. No doubt many of these men have no idea that they are in
ministry in human terms because of a forgotten Boston pastor—but they are.
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I say this in contradistinction from an overly academic approach to the ministry.
It is not a sign of health for a seminary campus, for example, to be awash in students
who have no interest in pastoring an actual church.27 It is great—and thrilling—for
some students to prepare for academic ministry, but the healthiest seminaries see their
primary role as sending out a veritable flood of ministers. These institutions, after all,
came into being because local churches at some point recognized the strategic nature
of pooling resources for the nurture and training of pastors. Seminaries continue to
serve this necessary function, and do so with special effectiveness when partnered
with local churches to not merely produce graduates, but form workers in Christ’s
vineyards.28
All this means that we want young men of the Ockengan type—bright, godly,
ambitious for the kingdom of heaven—to aspire, more often than not, to the pastorate.
We find ourselves, as so often happens in church history, in the midst of a theology
famine.29 The only sure cure for this awful phenomenon is the preparation of future
shepherds who will lead churches and strengthen them through biblical feeding.
There is no higher work given to humanity than this; there is no nobler call one
can hear, and heed, than God’s, summoning the rising generation like Samuel in
the night.
27. Theologian John Frame has offered provocative thoughts in his stimulating book The Aca-
demic Captivity of Theology (Lakeland, FL: Whitefield Media Productions, 2013).
28. As one example, consider the Academy in Geneva. Consult Scott M. Manetsch, Calvin’s Com-
pany of Pastors: Pastoral Care and the Emerging Reformed Church, 1536–1609, Oxford Studies in
Historical Theology (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2013).
29. This phenomenon is happening in America, strangely enough, for we are awash in good theo-
logical resources; it is also surely happening in much greater terms across the world. According to
one missions voice, the number one request of non-Western ministry leaders is for pastoral training,
a key component of which is doctrinal instruction. See Nick Moore, “Theological Famine in the
Majority World,” B&H Academic Blog, July 28, 2016, accessible at http://www.bhacademicblog.
com/theological-famine-majority-world. Surely the two problems are connected—theology famine
in the majority world, and theology famine in the areas the church evangelizes. In sum, the rising
generation of ministers and scholars should know that any fighting of this tide matters, and matters
greatly, wherever one labors.
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and much, much more.30 Henry gave a good portion of his time to instruction of
seminarians, first at Fuller Theological Seminary, later at Trinity Evangelical Divinity
School, and beyond these schools the theologian lectured at nearly every evangelical
institution under the sun.
Henry was peripatetic, but he believed in the formation of pastors. His magnum
opus, the six–volume God, Revelation, and Authority, shot far over the head of the
average Christian reader, but works marvelously well as an interaction with the
predominant non-evangelical hermeneutics of its time.31 I assign whole volumes of
GRA to my own seminarians, and part of the benefit of doing so is not merely the
fine-tuned content, but the model. Here is a brilliant thinker who loved Christ above
all else, paid little attention to cultivating the attention of the theological elites of
his day, but who did not shirk from the task of full-bore doctrinal encounter with
Neo-Orthodoxy, Protestant Liberalism, Catholic natural law teaching, and Western
thought more broadly. It is this kind of scholar one wants to have in classrooms
teaching students, and then after class sequestered in his office to write the books
that will train pastor-theologians to engage their culture and context.
In other words, we need institutions to partner with the church to form pastor-
theologians. This should begin at the undergraduate level, and it should come to flower
in the seminary environment. Ideally this takes place through residential education.
Though it is difficult to pull up stakes, move away from home and perhaps even a
ministry position, and undertake the long work of the MDiv, this investment in one’s
vocation is worth all the cost.32 Pastor-theologians, after all, are not brains in vats;
they are flesh-and-blood people, and they are being trained to spiritually strengthen
flesh-and-blood people. If a seminary is not fulfilling this mission, it should go out
of business. If, on the other hand, it is calibrated like an arrow to build into future
pastors, then it deserves the fullest possible support on the part of God’s churches.
You do not absolutely need scholars—or even seminaries—to make pastors. But
if scholars have a genuine love for the mission of God and the people of God, they are
30. Ben Peays has done valuable work in showing how Henry pulled the “Uneasy Conscience”
material together. See Peays, “The Modern Mind and the Uneasy Conscience” in Hall and Strachan,
Essential Evangelicalism, 149–73.
31. Carl F. H. Henry, God, Revelation, and Authority (6 vols.; Waco, TX: Word, 1976–1983),
hereafter GRA. The six volumes in order of publication: Henry, God, Revelation, and Authority, Vol-
ume One: God Who Speaks and Shows, Preliminary Considerations (Crossway, 1999 [Word, 1976]);
idem, God, Revelation, and Authority, Volume Two: God Who Speaks and Shows—Fifteen Theses,
Part One (Crossway, 1999 [Word, 1976]); idem, God, Revelation, and Authority, Volume Three: God
Who Speaks and Shows, Fifteen Theses, Part Two (Crossway, 1999 [Word, 1979]); idem, God, Rev-
elation, and Authority, Volume Four: God Who Speaks and Shows, Fifteen Theses, Part Three (Cross-
way, 1999 [Word, 1979]); idem, God, Revelation, and Authority, Volume Five: God Who Stands and
Stays, Part One (Crossway, 1999 [Word, 1982]); idem, God, Revelation, and Authority, Volume Six:
God Who Stands and Stays, Part Two (Crossway, 1999 [Word, 1983]).
32. As Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary president Jason K. Allen has said, “The call to
ministry is a call to prepare.” Allen, Discerning Your Call to Ministry: How to Know For Sure and
What to Do About It (Chicago: Moody, 2016), 134–37.
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in a marvelous position to influence future pastors. What a priceless opportunity this
is. What a calling. What a job. If anyone doubts the potency of such environments, we
should direct them to the Christian tradition. The Genevan academy was no modern
academic outfit, but it shaped an entire generation of church planters and ministers.
Princeton Seminary in its 19th-century iteration trained hordes of young men in the
rugged “Princeton Theology”; men like Charles Hodge truly served as watchmen on
the wall.33 They brought multitudes in to the school, they imparted all they could,
and then they stood on the ramparts and watched as God sent his shepherds to battle
Satan and feed the sheep.
The same is true with Machen, Cornelius Van Til, John Murray, and others
at Westminster; Henry, E. J. Carnell, and Ladd at Fuller; more recently, David
Wells, Meredith Kline, and Roger Nicole at Gordon-Conwell; D. A. Carson, Kevin
Vanhoozer, John Woodbridge, and Douglas Sweeney at Trinity; Al Mohler, Tom
Schreiner, Bruce Ware, Michael Haykin, and Don Whitney at Southern.34 The
list could go on. You do not have to build seminaries to launch massive offensive
operations against the kingdom of darkness, but in historical retrospective, they have
surely played a unique role in doing great damage to Satan’s anti-monarchy.
So, though we need a far smaller group of scholars—we could call them
theologian-pastors—we need them nonetheless. They are nothing other than what
the Bible calls “teachers,” after all. We especially need the type who work and speak
and write and teach and mentor for the church. This in no way means they sidestep,
say, writing high-level exegetical commentaries, biblical theologies, systematic texts,
historical volumes, or ethical and philosophical treatises. It does mean that they labor
from the standpoint that the greatest delight of any on earth is not to earn the praise
of the secular academy, but to search out the will and ways of almighty God. Nothing
exceeds this. Nothing compares to it.35
Let us produce outstanding thinkers, leaders, and communicators, but let us
do so while learning at least one lesson from the neo-evangelicals, and break in
our heart with the temptation common to academicians, namely, the desire to put
Scripture aside as our ultimate authority and win the praise of the guild. Scripture
33. As substantiated in Paul C. Gutjahr, Charles Hodge: Guardian of American Orthodoxy (New
York: Oxford Univ. Press, 2011).
34. Truly, fresh attention needs to be given to the late twentieth-century and early twenty-first
century theological reloading among evangelicals and, in particular, Baptists. The return of many
Baptists to the general doctrinal orientation of the early years of the Southern Baptist Convention is
both a theological miracle and a remarkable historical development. For a helpful introduction on this
point, Gregory A. Wills, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, 1859–2009 (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2009); also L. Russ Bush and Thomas Nettles, Baptists and the Bible (Nashville:
Broadman and Holman Academic, 1999 [1980]).
35. We think here of David Wells’s compelling argument that historically, pastors were “scholar-
saints” who were “as comfortable with books and learning as with the aches of the soul.” Wells,
Courage to Be Protestant, 40. See also the testimony of John Piper in Piper and D. A. Carson, The
Pastor as Scholar, the Scholar as Pastor: Reflections on Life and Ministry (Wheaton, IL: Crossway,
2011), 21–70.
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is not a prison for the mind; Scripture is a springboard for the intellect. You can
study the doctrine of creation, the attributes of God, cross-covenantal symbolism
and fulfillment, and never exhaust it.36 Let us have done with evangelical academics,
evangelical theologians, who chase some effervescent and never-realized dream of
elite approval. Let us recover and repristinate Sola Scriptura, and think hard about
what it truly means for all intellectual inquiry.
36. The recent explosion of biblical-theological scholarship bears this out in spades. As just one of
many examples, consult the arresting perspective put forth by numerous authors in Steven J. Wellum
and Brent E. Parker, Progressive Covenantalism: Charting a Course between Dispensational and
Covenant Theologies (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 2016).
37. Strachan, Awakening, 74.
38. Pastors-in-training will benefit from the biography of MacArthur by Iain Murray. See Murray,
John MacArthur: Servant of the Word and Flock (Edinburgh and Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, 2011).
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defined; in rhetorical firepower; in personal winsomeness; in cultural fluency; in
popularity; in normality, even. The pastor-theologian is more like the grasshopper-
chewing John the Baptist, in other words, than like a CEO, a cutting-edge activist,
a wildly-gifted “maker,” a society-defying musician, a comedian, or any other
performer or public figure. The pastor-theologian’s ministry is grounded in God and
his Word. He wants above all else to know the Lord, and thus to kill his sin, and
grow in maturity by the power of Christ in him. He knows that conversion ushers
the redeemed into a lifelong process of sanctification, and that he is responsible for
pursuing the fruits of the Spirit. More than anything else, his people need him to
be mature, to be holy, to be zealous for the divine, and thus to be a kind of Bible-
saturated mystic.39
The pastor-theologian does not believe he deserves extra credit for preaching
biblical truth. He humbly confesses, whatever his gifting, whatever his intellectual
interests, that he has nothing else to preach.40 God has graciously given him the
Word, all of it, to be searched out and applied. There is nothing better to preach—not
warmed-over psychotherapy, not historical lessons, not activism, not Chicken Soup
for the Vaguely Evangelical Soul. This exposition of the text handed down to us by
God’s Spirit is no exercise in virtuous but boring spirituality, either. The biblical text
is fascinating. Alongside the full inspiration, inerrancy, authority, and sufficiency of
Scripture, we should freely and gladly confess the full beauty of the Word of God.41
Nothing comes close to it in terms of depth and breadth and mystery and power and
complexity. Yes, a child can understand the basic message of the Bible—praise God
for that. But a skilled scholar can spend a lifetime in the Word and never come close
to discovering its fathomless deeps.
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more stock than ever before in elite education and expert consensus. Such a context
leaves sheep who are ripe for plucking, especially if they are interested in debates,
discussions, and genuine intellectual inquiry.
I sense this is particularly true for young people, many of whom go to secular
schools and find themselves intellectually interested, perhaps, for the first time in their
lives.42 Their youth group did little to give them a taste for the exhilaration of biblical
learning; their church body was geared more to salving feelings than equipping the
mind; their parents, members of this kind of ecclesial experiment, did little to train
them up in apologetic terms. In fact, despite real evidence of serious study and real
learning on the part of children and youth—we think here, and even perhaps shudder
as we do, of chemistry, geometry, algebra, complex football playbooks, and so
on—the church has often treated its younger constituency as if the mere mention of
theology, like a computer virus, shuts the brain down on the spot. With a background
like this, is it any shock that our youth would be sorely tempted to walk away from
the faith, when the faith when they have witnessed in their background seemed to
strain against deep discussion and heartfelt engagement of the deepest realities of
the universe?
More than perhaps ever before—save for the era of the Enlightenment—the
church not only needs but must have pastors who are equipped to handle objections,
challenges, and genuine questions from both skeptics and saints. In terms of
discipleship, it is not enough to give people John 3:16, a financial planning program,
and a watered-down, fill-in-the-blank brand of instruction. The sheep need doctrine.
The sheep, whatever their age or station in life, need truth.43 The people of God
require—from their shepherds—a rich meal of biblical food. Too often today, they
receive only a thimble-full of theology. We do not mean here that the pastor is required
to personally vindicate the faith in the face of every query and overthrow every
disputant.44 Faith, we remember, is a miracle. No one is saved by reason or mere
intellection, but by the gift of God (Ephesians 2:8–9). But with this noted, pastors
42. There is a great hunger among our youth for the truth. As one example, consider the testimony
of Jaquelle Crowe, This Changes Everything: How the Gospel Transforms the Teen Years (Wheaton,
IL: Crossway, 2017).
43. R. Albert Mohler, Jr. speaks well to the truth-driven nature of the pastorate: “There is no more
theological calling than this—guard the flock of God for the sake of God’s truth.” Mohler, He Is Not
Silent: Preaching in a Postmodern World (Chicago: Moody, 2008), 107.
44. Vanhoozer has very helpfully framed the pastor as an intellectual “generalist.” Discussing
ministers, Vanhoozer writes: “Pastors are called not to practice academic theology but to minister
theological understanding, helping people to interpret the Scriptures, their cultures, and their own
lives in relation to God’s great work of redemption summed up in Christ.” Vanhoozer and Strachan,
Pastor as Public Theologian, 15, 112. In terms of helping, say, college students work through secular
presentations in their coursework, the pastor does not need to master quantum physics to aid them,
but he should help them understand how to integrate science and faith, and should try to identify what
the working metaphysical and philosophical assumptions of a discipline are, and then compare them
to biblical commitments in the same areas. Vanhoozer’s contributions in Pastor as Public Theologian
give further guidance on these important but hard-to-handle matters.
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can surely work very hard in our simultaneously anti–intellectual and arrogantly
intellectual age to show the beauty and power and cohesion of the Word of God.
This kind of ministry is truly the cure of souls, as the Puritans used to say. The
pastor is in the business of presenting people whole in Christ to God. Alongside the
theologian, he is the only person on the earth who traffics in eternity for a living.
All this ministry, all this activity, all this glory-giving work, depends upon sound
doctrine. Biblical truth is the obsession of the pastor. He is like a lion deprived
of meat when taken out of his pulpit; he is consumed with getting back to divine
business, as Edwards called it.45 He lives to preach the Word of God, he sees it as a
calling he could never deserve and has no right to assume, and he works very, very
hard to preach and teach faithfully each week.
He does so while happily, cheerfully, and unstintingly proclaiming the whole
counsel of God. This is where the pastor approaches a great line, drawn deep in the
sand, and must choose whether he will cross over or hold back. Will he preach, in
the context of book-by-book exposition, the truth about homosexuality? Will he tell
his people what everlasting torment in hell means? Will he defend substitutionary
atonement against the rising chorus of its detractors? Will he build out a meaningful,
robust understanding of submission as it relates both to the nature of the Christian
life and to biblical womanhood, or will he dodge the bullet with a few jokes and limp
qualifications? Will he show his people that we not only affirm Christ as the judge of
all the earth, but need him to fill this role in order for evil to be routed and destroyed?
Too often, pastors confront the kind of questions I have just posed only in terms
of faithfulness. This is surely a crucial component of the conscious and ministry-
shaping decision to declare the whole counsel, no matter the cost. But I would also
suggest that pastors should consider these questions in terms of need—the need of the
people for answers to an unbelieving culture’s challenges. The church, for example,
largely decided to go light on matters of sexuality and gender so as to not offend or
divide, or drive away potential seekers. We cannot miss that this decision left the
church’s apologetic ministry with a gaping hole in its defenses; the people of God had
no theology of sexuality, no deeper understanding of marriage, no comprehensive
and beautiful vision of manhood and womanhood.46 Is it any wonder that our youth
report in polls that they support a non-Christian ethic on homosexuality, then?
Pastor-theologians build their ministry off of sound doctrine, we conclude here,
not only because the Bible commands they do so (Titus 2:1), but because this is
precisely what the flock of Christ must have to endure, survive, and thrive in our
45. See Jonathan Edwards, “Pastor and People Must Look to God,” in The Salvation of Souls:
Nine Previously Unpublished Sermons on the Call of Ministry and the Gospel, ed. Richard Bailey
and Wills (Carol Stream: Crossway, 2002), 142. This entire sermon by Edwards will fan into flame
an interest in the model of pastoral ministry covered in this article.
46. This despite the outstanding contribution of John Piper and Wayne Grudem, eds., Recovering
Biblical Manhood & Womanhood: A Response to Evangelical Feminism (Wheaton: Crossway, 2006
[1991]).
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smoldering, faith-targeting world. Failure to preach and teach doctrinally leaves the
church a collection of unwitting prey and unready witnesses.
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in answering falsehood, standing down wolves who slip into the flock, promoting
true doctrine, and caring for the souls of the people. To the extent that we succeed in
this great endeavor, our churches will be positioned for health; to the extent that we
fail to call out and raise up the next generation of pastors, our churches will wilt and
fail to give God the glory he deserves.
In sum, we need more men like Ockenga, men who sought training and
preparation for ministry, who worked very hard to preach faithfully and well, and
who exuded a spirit of holy ambition and gospel boldness in a world that sought
to quiet and snuff out such boisterous faith.49 But these kind of men will accrue
naturally in churches that love doctrine and love the mission of Christ, for no matter
the direness of the cultural situation, true men of God will always thrill to a big
challenge and an impossible task.50
Conclusion
We began with a big claim: the neo-evangelical heyday deserves consideration—and
even scholarly represention—as the Third Great Awakening of American history.
That claim is audacious enough in itself, but here’s more for the scholarly scales:
we may well find ourselves in a new season of revival. We have not yet seen the
conversion growth that would merit this age being labeled a Fourth Great Awakening,
but it is clear to many of us that God has done something new in our time.
Looking back at Ockenga’s career, and movement, gives us fresh insight and
perspective for our own day. The neo-evangelical enterprise ultimately faltered,
as disagreement over doctrines like Scripture, manhood and womanhood, and the
nature of the church caused a splintering of the once-unified association. This reality
prompts us to wonder afresh today: will we hold fast to the trustworthy word? Will
evangelicals pursue unity, but not a unity of warm feelings and shared cultural
interests, a unity grounded in love for the truth? Will a still-secularizing environment
lead the church to trim its theological wings, and bid its pastors to soften their tone,
for fear of being heard as controversial?
We cannot know, but we can pray for this: that God will raise up more with
the spirit and pastoral commitment of Ockenga, and more with the willingness to
venture all over the world, and like the early church declare the exclusivistic gospel
of Christic grace, the gospel that may yield suffering in the present, but bequeaths the
eternal weight of glory to all who are faithful in Christ, and to Christ.
49. We would do well to recover such a bold spirit. For a popular take on this issue, consider John
Piper, Risk Is Right: Better to Lose Your Life Than Waste it (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2013); David
Platt, Radical: Taking Your Faith Back from the American Dream (Colorado Springs: Multnomah,
2010); Owen Strachan, Risky Gospel: Abandon Fear and Build Something Awesome (Nashville:
Thomas Nelson, 2013).
50. See Mark Chanski, Manly Dominion: In a Passive-Purple-Four-Ball World (Merrick, New
York: Calvary Press, 2014).
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Pastor-Scholar:
The Pastor Theologian and Scholarship
Douglas Estes
Abstract: There is a critical need today for pastor-scholars to serve the Church and
to advance theological knowledge. The pastor who is a scholar will utilize the format
of the written word to dialogue with an important part of modern society—scholars
and educated readers—through the form of scholarly discourse. Though the pastor-
scholar is not a common calling, once one embraces this calling, there are several
essential characteristics that can positively impact the pastor-scholar’s profession
and standing.
In our modern world of peculiar career titles—key grip, chief value officer,
penguinologist—the title of “pastor-scholar” may seem equally curious. In fact, to
some ears the idea of a pastor-scholar might be a dubious title, along the lines of a
plumber-painter or a provocateur-mime. Yet, in this short essay, I argue there is an
vital need for pastor-scholars and offer some practical thoughts and suggestions on
how to approach scholarship while serving the needs of a local church. By virtue of
constraints of space and time, my thoughts are not exhaustive; much more could be
said about the work of the pastor-scholar.
When I speak of a “pastor-scholar,” I have in mind a very specific individual:
a person whose full-time effort is to serve a local church or ministry, and whose
part-time effort is to engage academic scholarship—especially theological research
that influences the lives of those engaged in postgraduate theological education (and
by that, the larger world, through academia). As is often the case, it is easier to state
the negative: by “pastor-scholar,” I do not mean a full-time academic who is also
involved in a local church or ministry, nor do I mean a pastor who writes theology for
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the sake of layfolks or other pastors. Both of these two roles are also important, but
they are not in the scope of which I speak in this essay. For the purpose of placing the
pastor-scholar in our greater world, I consider the pastor-scholar to be a subset of the
general category of pastor theologian. Recent trends have created a renewed interest
in the pastor theologian, and I view my ideas in this essay as a supportive addition
to much of what has been said about pastor theologians.1 In Hiestand and Wilson’s
taxonomy, I see the pastor-scholar as a special subset of the ecclesial theologian.2 The
difference between the ecclesial theologian proper and the pastor-scholar is typically
one of audience; the pastor-scholar will devote time to writing and research at such a
level that the audience will include members of higher academia. Though the pastor-
scholar is the primary focus for this essay, I believe much of what I write about
engaging scholarship in the context of a local church is applicable to other types of
pastor theologians as well.
Hiestand, Wilson, Vanhoozer, Strachan, and others have well-articulated the
valuable contribution, if not the critical need, for pastors to do theology for the
greater world within their ecclesial context. For me, that argument is a given with
the fertile soil for grappling with theology that occurs in local ministries. As a full-
time professor now, I am rarely challenged by the rubber-meets-the-road struggles
to interpret Scripture that was commonplace when I pastored full-time (unless I try
to live vicariously through my students who are pastors). These struggles proved
invaluable for thinking through the way the biblical texts work, not just what they
mean. This is not to take anything away from the equally-critical role of highly-skilled
professor-scholars, but to point out that both pastoral and professorial callings bring
a great deal of value to the table.3 We—both church and world—are impoverished
without both in our modern theological context. However, the recent emphasis on
the pastor theologian reveals that there does exist some degree of impoverishment;
specifically, a lack of pastors who work as public theologians today. One primary way
we can fill this lack is by encouraging pastors—with scholarly gifting—to contribute
to the larger world of theological scholarship as a part of their local pastoral ministry.
1. See for example, Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson, The Pastor Theologian: Resurrecting an
Ancient Vision (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015); Todd Wilson and Gerald Hiestand, Becoming a
Pastor Theologian: New Possibilities for Church Leadership (Downers Grove: IVP, 2016); Kevin J.
Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan, The Pastor as Public Theologian: Reclaiming a Lost Vision (Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic, 2015); and Gerald Hiestand and Todd Wilson, Beauty, Order, and Mystery:
A Christian Vision of Human Sexuality (Downers Grove: IVP, 2017).
2. Instead of trying to nuance Hiestand and Wilson’s nomenclature (e.g. “ecclesial academic
theologian” or other), I simply use “pastor-scholar” for the sake of clarity. Further, a pastor-scholar
may not abide by all eight of Hiestand and Wilson’s characteristics for the ecclesial theologian; see
Hiestand and Wilson, Pastor Theologian, 88–101.
3. Even though I focus on the pastor-scholar in this essay, which implies that some pastors are
not involved in scholarship, the same discontinuity exists in the academy, where though it is often
assumed that all professors are involved in scholarship, in actual practice, some professors see their
roles more as educators than scholars. Thus, we could speak of the professor-scholar in a similar way
that we speak of the pastor-scholar.
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4. Augustine of Hippo, Letters (131–164), ed. Roy Joseph Deferrari, trans. Wilfrid Parsons, Fa-
thers of the Church 20 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1953), 150.
5. Here I do not suggest that the four Gospels of the canon are sui generis. All are, in short, adapted
from Greco-Roman biographies, though with some creative genre-bending; cf. Harold W. Attridge,
“Genre,” in How John Works: Storytelling in the Fourth Gospel, ed. Douglas Estes and Ruth Sheri-
dan, SBL RBS 86 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 1–22.
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correctives and explanations of the gospel to dispersed Christians, they engaged
in a creative reworking of the letter form to reach their audience.6 Justin Martyr
surely knew of other dialogues, but he nevertheless adapted the form to meet his
(and his culture’s) needs.7 Though Augustine was most focused on weighty topics, he
recognized the value of Laurentius’ request to write something in a form, a handbook
(enchiridion) that would be most useful. As knowledge of the biblical texts continued
to grow, Christians of all stripes continued to write in many different forms to
reach a larger audience—from commentaries, to creeds, to systematic theologies,
to allegories, to children’s novels, presumably each to fill a need within the larger
culture. In this way, scholarship is a small but valuable form of discourse in the
modern world, one in which some pastors are surely called to participate.
6. For example, Douglas Estes, “John as Pastor Theologian: 2 John as Creative Theological Écri-
ture,” in Becoming a Pastor Theologian: New Possibilities for Church Leadership, ed. Todd Wilson
and Gerald Hiestand (Downers Grove: IVP, 2016), 197–99.
7. Graham N. Stanton, A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew (Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
1992), 234; and cf. Averil Cameron and Niels Gaul, eds., Dialogues and Debates from Late Antiquity
to Late Byzantium (London: Routledge, 2017), 1–6.
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the most of time as it comes to them. Sometimes that may be a whole day, but often it
is only an hour here or there.9 While no two situations are the same, the pastor-scholar
must evaluate their calendars and plan accordingly.
Talk about baseball and family, not scholarship, with members of the
congregation. Because scholarship is a narrow form of communication, written in
passive voice and filled with jargon (and German), it is a form that average people
do not feel they can access. When a pastor-scholar chats with church members about
their scholarship, many members may feel the subject is arcane, but they will listen
because it is their (pastor’s) scholarship. Since the pastor-scholar is passionate about
their work, and the work is contributive, it will be tempting to talk about it regularly.
Yet, if someone talks too much about themselves to others, it is a turn off—so also is
it a turn off to talk too much about one’s own scholarship. As a pastor, though, I loved
the opportunity to talk about my work, but I learned quickly that in almost all cases
it worked best to mention what I was working on in one or two sentences, and then
quickly turn the conversation to the other person’s family or something of mutual
interest. If you find someone who truly wants to know more about your scholarship,
and are trustworthy, consider it a treasure.
Encourage professors who also engage in scholarship. Just because a person
is a professor does not mean they regularly participate in scholarship. Numerous
professors get tenure (if their school offers it), and then focus largely on their
teaching role. Professors often have difficult jobs; speaking only from my personal
experience, the idea of a professor sitting in an ivory tower undisturbed for weeks
on end thinking deep thoughts is a myth (or at least, a rare occurrence) in our world
today. Pastor-scholars, working outside the modern-accepted guild, should create
positive relationships with professors, building up their fellow travelers whenever
possible. Since many, if not most, pastors and professors have never walked any
steps in the other’s occupations, it is incumbent on the pastor-scholar to build positive
relationships with those whose careers are more closely associated with scholarship.
When I participated in scholarship as a working pastor, I found some curiosity—but
very rarely animosity—between professors engaged in scholarship with whom I had
built some form of relationship with. Scholars are people, and we would do well to
encourage them whether they are first pastors or first professors. Finally, writing,
especially scholarship writing, is an incredibly difficult undertaking for all; rejections
will occur, and pastor-scholars must not give in to “if I only were a professor …”
negative emotions. Nothing worthwhile is built quickly or easily.
Embrace the strengths and weaknesses of a pastor who engages scholarship.
The strength and weakness of the pastor-scholar is context. Writing in general, and
writing scholarship in particular, will take time away from your ministry, but if
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handled well, will also improve your ministry by bringing depth to your teaching.10
A strength of the pastor-scholar is that a local ministry context will sharpen their
understanding of the how the biblical texts are meant to work in real-life situations.
But the weakness of the pastor-scholar is that their context is outside the knowledge-
sharpening conversations that often occur in academic environments. I always found
focusing on the strengths of the pastor’s context was superior to worrying over the
weaknesses of the context. If you believe God has called you to a pastoral role,
and to participate in scholarship, rejoice in those opportunities. They are vital, and
exceptional.
The pastor-scholar is a bird of strange feather, created by need in the modern era
to address a lack that occurs in theological discussion. We should not be surprised to
find that in our generation, we are not the first to raise questions of the relationship
between faith, ministry, and the advancement of knowledge. Douglas A. Sweeney
notes this about Jonathan Edwards’ love for the advancement of knowledge:
Edwards surely would have jumped at the chance to live with us today. He
would have given almost anything for access to the historical and scientific
knowledge that has burgeoned so dramatically since the early nineteenth
century. His eighteenth-century world seems far away, a distant land. And
Edwards was a man of his times. But he was also keenly curious and usually
open-minded. He was a forward-looking thinker with an insatiable appetite for
information about the Bible, its ancient historical contexts, and the structure
of the natural world in which its events, stories, songs, poems, prophecies,
morals, and other teachings were—and continued to be—realized.11
10. This type of depth is not limited to pastor-scholars, but is often limited to pastor-theologians
(whether acknowledged as such or not). I believe it is rooted in the passion to learn that, when har-
nessed, allows for truly thought-provoking teaching.
11. Douglas A. Sweeney, Edwards the Exegete: Biblical Interpretation and Anglo-Protestant Cul-
ture on the Edge of the Enlightenment (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 4.
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Michael W. Goheen
Abstract: In this article I argue for the renewal of pastoral theology from a missional
mode. This approach to pastoral theology offers rich resources addressing critical
areas of contemporary concern. This article is more than just academic reflection.
In fact, this reflects a curricular work in progress at Missional Training Center,
Phoenix, Arizona—an extension site of Covenant Theological Seminary, St Louis,
Missouri.1 For the past six years we have been attempting some creative approaches
to theological education based on the rich insights from the 1960s—1980s offered
by Western mission leaders and Southern hemisphere church leaders on theological
education in a missional mode. I am especially indebted to the insights of Lesslie
Newbigin, Harvie Conn, and David Bosch, and will draw primarily on their work in
this article.
I begin by briefly exposing the roots of this problematic view of pastoral
theology. I then sketch the missional turn in the 20th century and note its considerable
impact beginning with ecclesiology, and then on theology and leadership. This
understanding of mission provides a solid theological foundation for the renewal
of pastoral theology. Finally, I work out some of the significant implications of this
missional turn for rethinking pastoral theology.
Introduction
Roots of Pastoral Theology Today
Recently I spoke with a theologically astute young Brazilian pastor. He is pursuing a
doctoral degree in pastoral theology from an American institution. He described the
most recent courses he had taken, and after offering appreciative words on some of
the wisdom he had gained, he offered a twofold critique. On the one hand, the courses
were pragmatic, primarily concerned with skills and technique. The courses followed
a methodology rooted in the social sciences; there was little theological reflection
on the subjects. On the other hand, the courses were designed to be relevant for the
1. You can read more on our website: http://www.missionaltraining.org/
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internal life of the institutional church. They equipped professional pastors to feed
and care for the flock but lacked any missional vision for a world beyond the walls
of the church. I believe these critiques are on target and addressing them is part of a
larger agenda for the rethinking of pastoral theology today.
The pair of problems sketched by my Brazilian friend emerges out of the
historical development of pastoral theology over the last two centuries. Pastoral
theology initially arose out of a faulty theory-praxis dichotomy and subsequently
was given its contours by the professionalization of ministry. Moreover, this whole
process took place in the context of an ecclesiology that had lost its missional identity.
Thus, to understand some of the problematic issues involved in pastoral theology
today, we must look briefly at three crucial assumptions that shaped its historical
growth as a theological discipline: a theory-practice dichotomy, a professionalized
view of the pastoral ministry, and a non-missional understanding of the church.
A Theory-Practice Dichotomy
The discipline of pastoral theology—or, perhaps better, the aggregate of a number
of disciplines gathered together within the theological curriculum under the rubric
of ‘pastoral theology’—emerged out of the theory-practice dichotomy that molded
the curriculum of theological education. Specifically, it developed in the 19th century
when the fourfold pattern of theology arose especially under the work of Friedrich
Schleiermacher and became the norm for theological education. There were three
theoretical disciplines—biblical studies, systematic theology, and church history. The
fourth, pastoral theology became a “bridge-building” discipline that connected to
pastoral ministry the previously established abstract truth gained in the other theoretical
disciplines.2 In the 20th century, pastoral theology continued its development in this
direction as it splintered into various sub-disciplines that followed the methods of the
social sciences. Under the growing pragmatism of a postmodern culture impatient
with all abstract theoretical reflection, pastoral theology “became more and more
functional and pragmatic. Practical is that which can be used immediately and which
works within a short period of time. With this emphasis, practical theology tends to
lead to a ‘preoccupation with technique.’”3
The pragmatic nature of pastoral theology resulted from at least two factors. The
first is the illegitimacy of the very dichotomy itself. Al Wolters rightly observes that
this dichotomy is an “idolatrous perspective on the world” and a “distorted mind-set”
shaped by a “humanistic thought-pattern.” The source of this dualism is “Aristotelian
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paganism, which made a god out of theory or analysis.” Aristotle “like many Greek
philosophers before and after him, singled out one aspect of created reality, the
reasoning function, and gave it the absolute status of God.” What creational capacity,
the Greeks enquired, would enable the human being to rise above their creational
status to universally valid truth? Reason or theoria is singled out as human function
so capable of accessing timeless truth. “Having fallen into this idolatry of the rational,
all the rest of human functions and activities are lumped together and are downgraded
in comparison to it, and are mindlessly labeled the ‘practical.’” The very category of
practical “in its value laden opposition to ‘theoretical’ is a pseudo-concept deriving
directly from Greek philosophical idolatry.” The result of this false dichotomy is
a constant pendulum swing back and forth between the exaltation of intellectual
reflection and a pragmatism that rejects all theoretical activity as irrelevant or is at
least suspicious of it.4
This partially explains why pastoral theology has become so pragmatic. There
is no such thing as context-free or timeless theory; this is an illusion of the pagan
Greek mind. All theoretical reflection as a human activity—and this includes all
theology, of course—is embedded in the whole fabric of human life. And so all
theological reflection necessarily arises out of some particular context. When
theoretical reflection in biblical, systematic, and historical theology arises from
an academic setting that has been disconnected from the church-in-mission it will
naturally be irrelevant to pastoral ministry. All theological reflection is also directed
toward some particular context. When the various branches of “theoretical” theology
are directed toward the self-generated agendas of scholars, again naturally it will
usually be irrelevant to pastoral ministry. No amount of bridge-building will be able
to satisfactorily connect to pastoral ministry a theology conceived as timeless content
derived from a different context. It is not hard to see why impatience with irrelevant
theological reflection leads pastors down the road to pragmatism which rejects all
theological reflection as unhelpful to ministry.
4. Albert M. Wolters, Ideas Have Legs (Toronto: Institute for Christian Studies, 1987), 7–9.
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Similarly Karl Barth claims that the church’s “mission is not addition to its being. It
is, as it is sent and active in its mission. It builds up itself for the sake of its mission
and in relation to it.”7 Both authors emphasize the two poles of the church’s existence:
the vocation of the church to make known the good news in the midst of the world
and the importance of its inner, communal life to empower it for mission. Both the
inner life and outward vocation are essential to the church’s identity. If either is lost
our ecclesiology is distorted.
Pastoral theology developed in a time when the pole of missional vocation was
marginalized. Thus, pastoral theology was a matter of equipping the pastor for tasks
within the institutional church primarily aimed at the goal of care for the members
of the congregation. Preaching, worship, sacraments, counselling, pastoral care, and
5. E.g., Charles Van Engen, Mission on the Way: Issues in Mission Theology (Grand Rapids:
Baker, 1996), 244–247; Edward Farley, Theologia: The Fragmentation and Unity of Theological
Education (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 11–12, 115, 127–135; Harvie Conn, Eternal Word and
Changing Worlds: Theology, Anthropology, and Mission in Trialogue (Grand Rapids: Zondervan,
1984), 278–282.
6. Winston F. Crum, “The Missio Dei and the Church: An Anglican Perspective,” St. Vladimir’s
Theological Quarterly 17, 4 (1973): 288.
7. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV, 1, 62, 2 (Peabody: Hendrikson, 2010), 725.
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so on are treated, at best, simply as pastoral tasks that nurture the spiritual life of the
congregation. This is the specialized expertise of a professional pastor.
Donald Messner rightly laments that “contemporary theological education has
been oriented primarily toward the pastoral care of congregations, not the church’s
mission to the world” and further warns that “ministry detached from God’s mission
in the world is heretical.”8 This point can be well made by a brief reference to Karl
Barth’s discussion of beneficia Christi (benefits of Christ) and sacred egocentricity.9
He asks a simple question: What does it mean be a Christian? The “classic answer”
is, to be a recipient and possessor of the beneficia Christi. Barth lists these benefits:
regeneration, conversion, peace with God, reconciliation, justification, sanctification,
forgiveness of sins, and more. All these come by grace as gifts of God in Jesus Christ
by the Holy Spirit in response to repentance and faith. Christians are those who have
received these benefits. It is this that inspires the pastoral ministry of the church.
“There can be no disputing,” says Barth, “that something true and important is
meant and envisaged in all this.”10 Yet if we are not alert it would be easy to make
the reception, possession, and enjoyment of these benefits what is essential to being a
Christian. Barth wonders: Can it really be the end of Christian vocation that I should
be blessed, that I should be saved, that I should receive, possess, and enjoy all these
gifts and then attain to eternal life without any regard for others? Does this not smack
of a pious or sacred egocentricity? Would it not be strange and even contradictory
that the selfless and self-giving work of God should issue in a self-seeking concern
with our own salvation? Would not this egocentricity stand in stark contrast to the
being and action of the Lord? Would this not turn the church into an institute of
salvation that forgot its missional purpose in the world? Would this not make us
pure recipients and possessors of salvation?11 Barth rightly asks: “Is not every form
of egocentricity excused and even confirmed and sanctified, if egocentricity in this
sacred form is the divinely willed meaning of Christian existence and the Christian
song of praise consists finally only in a many-tongued but monotonous pro me, pro
me, and similar possessive expressions?”12
Barth’s critique stings because this is the vision that has informed much pastoral
theology. Pastoral theology is shaped by the assumption that the fundamental task
of pastoral ministry is to minister the means of grace to God’s people. But if it is left
there, we betray the role and vocation to which God has called his people and their
leaders in the biblical story. We are blessed to be a blessing; God works first in but
then through his people. If I can rephrase a fitting comment by N.T. Wright: “The
8. Donald E. Messer, A Conspiracy of Goodness: Contemporary Images of Christian Mission
(Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1992), 17, 21.
9. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV: The Doctrine of Reconciliation, Part 3, 2, trans. G. W.
Bromiley (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1961), 554–569.
10. Barth, Church Dogmatics IV, 3, 2, 563.
11. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV, 3, 2, 568.
12. Barth, Church Dogmatics, IV, 3, 2, 567.
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church, believing that all the benefits of Christ were just for them, has betrayed the
purpose for which God has given them. It is as though the postman were to imagine
that all the letters in his bag were intended just for him.”13 How can pastoral theology
takes a missional vision on board? How would this change the whole discipline?
These are questions important for pastoral theology. However, before turning to
these questions it is important to attend to exactly what we are talking about with the
much-used word mission with a brief look at the missional turn in the 20th century.
13. N. T. Wright, What Saint Paul Really Said: Was Paul of Tarsus the Real Founder of Christian-
ity? (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 108. In the original quote, he speaks of the covenant rather
than the benefits of Christ.
14. Norman Goodall, ed., Missions Under the Cross: Addresses Delivered at the Enlarged Meet-
ing of the Committee of the International Missionary Council at Willingen, in Germany, 1952; with
Statements Issued by the Meeting (London: Edinburgh, 1953), 190.
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for his world who sent the Son to reconcile all things to himself. The Son completed
his work and sent the Spirit to gather his church and empower them for mission. The
church is sent by Jesus to continue his own mission: “There is no participation in
Christ without participation in his mission to the world. That by which the Church
receives its existence is that by which it is also given its world-mission. ‘As the Father
has sent Me, so send I you.’”15
This new framework for mission made clear that the starting point for mission
was, first, the mission of God as narrated in Scripture, and second, the missionary
nature of the church as it participates in God’s mission. Here we see a radical shift
and also a remarkable widening of mission. A host of colonial and Christendom
assumptions are shattered. Rooted in God’s reconciling mission the missional
vocation of the church is no longer limited geographically to the non-West nor to
certain intentional activities of outreach. Mission defines the identity of the church
as given in the role it is called to play as covenant partners with God in his mission.
Mission is to, from, and in all six continents.
It is often overlooked that this crucial moment coincided with the ascendency
of biblical theology. Brevard Childs observes three major elements of consensus in
the biblical theology movement: 1) theological: the main character in the Bible is
God who is acting in history; 2) narrative unity: the Bible is one unfolding story
of God’s redemptive work that climaxes in Jesus Christ, and all books and events
must find their meaning within this narrative context; 3) history: the redemptive
work of God is revealed in his mighty acts in history especially in the death and
resurrection of Jesus.16 All three of these components are present in an ecumenical
document issued just three years before Willingen entitled Guiding Principles for the
Interpretation of the Bible (Oxford, 1949). The statement affirms “the unity of the
Old and the New Testaments is…in the ongoing redemptive activity of God in the
history of one people, reaching its fulfilment in Christ.”17 Thus, as Willingen spoke
of the redemptive activity of the triune God, it was not simply a theological formula
of sending but is rather a historical record summarizing God’s long redemptive
journey in the biblical story and the central role of God’s people in that story. The
participation of God’s people in his mission must also be articulated in this narrative
context. Their missionary identity issues from the role they play for the sake of the
world in this story of God’s mission.18
This ‘Willingen moment’ is pregnant with significance for many areas of
theology and the church’s life. This is not merely a matter of articulating a new
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framework for cross-cultural missions traditionally conceived. This is a radically
new understanding of mission teeming with implications far beyond the cross-
cultural missionary task of the church. Willingen is doing nothing less than pointing
us to a central thread of the story of the Bible that has been long neglected: God has
taken up the people of God into his mission to reconcile all things to himself. This
determines their very identity. This is nothing short of a sea change in understanding
the very nature and vocation of the church that will have multiple ripple effects.
What is Mission?
The word ‘mission’ has been variously understood and sometimes quite badly
misunderstood by both proponents and opponents of the missional turn. So it is
important for this paper to articulate exactly what I mean by mission. Mission is the
participation of the church in what God is doing to renew the whole of human life and
the entire creation. What is the vocation and role that God has given his people? We
can capture it in four phrases.
The church is chosen by God for the sake of the world. The church’s identity
and role is found in terms of two orientations: toward God and toward the world.
The church is oriented toward God to carry out and make known his purposes in
the world. The church is also oriented toward the world as God is going to use the
community he has chosen to bring about a comprehensive restoration and renewal to
the whole creation and the entire life of humankind. Their responsibility to the world
and existence for the sake of the world constitute God’s people as missional.
Second, the church is blessed to be a blessing. The biblical story begins with
humanity blessed in the garden as they live in harmony with God, with one another,
and with the non-human creation. Sin shatters that blessing and replaces it with a
curse. God’s promise to Abraham is that he and the people that come from him
will be blessed; that is, God’s creational shalom will be restored to them. But their
blessing is so that they might be a channel of blessing to all nations. They are to
embody God’s creational intent to which they have been restored and invite others
into it. N. T Wright puts it this way: the people of God are to “model genuinely human
existence”19 and “function as a people who would show the rest of humanity what
being human was all about,”20—all for the sake of the world. Restored to creational
blessing can never be separated from being a channel of that blessing to those outside
the covenant community. And, sadly, how often this happens!
The third expression that helps to capture missional nature of the church is
that they are a distinctive people on display to the nations. This flows from what we
have just said: God’s people are blessed and on display to the nations. They are to
19. N.T. Wright, Scripture and the Authority of God: How to Read the Bible Today (New York:
HarperCollins, 2011), 51.
20. Tom Wright, Bringing the Church to the World: Renewing the Church to Confront the Pagan-
ism Entrenched in Western Culture (Minneapolis, MN: Bethany House Publishers, 1992), 59.
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be distinctive as they reject the idolatry that is destroying the lives of their cultural
contemporaries. Thus, we might say that God’s people face in three directions: back
to creation, forward to new creation, and outward to their contemporary cultures.
Backward: they are to embody God’s creational intention for humanity. Forward:
they are to be a sign and preview of the coming new creation. Outward: they are to
engage and challenge the culture and its idolatry.
Finally, I distinguish between a missionary dimension and missionary intention.
This distinction emerged shortly after Willingen. It was clear that mission was
broadening: mission was the whole life of God’s people as a sign of the coming
kingdom. However, the intentional activities traditionally associated with mission
that had as their deliberate purpose the goal of bringing people to Christ—such
as evangelism and cross-cultural missions where there was no witness to the
gospel—needed to be maintained. There is a missionary dimension to the whole
of the Christian life—the whole of life is restored for the sake of the world. But not
everything the church does has the missionary intention of bearing witness to Christ
so as to bring others to know him. And to lose these activities of intentional witness
is a betrayal of the gospel.
A Missionary Ecclesiology
What does this new view of mission mean for the church? And, of course, our
ecclesiology will determine ministry and pastoral theology. Hendrikus Berkhof has
offered a systematic formulation of ecclesiology that takes seriously mission as central
to its being. Indeed, he believes that mission must be the primary resource to revitalize
ecclesiology. He argues that there is a “necessity of re-studying ecclesiology, in fact
all of theology, from the standpoint of the [church’s] relationship to the world.”21 He
sets out to rethink ecclesiology from this standpoint.
Traditionally ecclesiological reflection has focused on the study of the
institutional church, that is, on preaching and teaching, on sacraments and worship,
on leadership and church order, and so on. His restructuring of ecclesiology divides
the doctrine of the church into three main parts: institution, community, and mission.
The church as institution is concerned with a totality of activities organized to be a
means of grace that minister Christ to the congregation. He treats traditional themes
like instruction, baptism, preaching, the Lord’s Supper, pastoral care, and leadership.
The church as community deals with the totality of personal relationships within the
fellowship of congregations. The church exists as a community and each member has
gifts to build up the others in the shared life of the community. And finally, he comes
to the church as mission: here he treats the role of the church in the midst of the world
in all the ways it functions as salt and light. While the institutional church had been
21. Hendrikus Berkhof, Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Study of the Faith, English transla-
tion (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979), 411.
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the primary focus of ecclesiology from the early days of the church, the church as
community had developed since the Reformation. As for the church as mission it had
only been since the middle of the 20th century with the breakdown of Christendom
that this has taken hold.
The order of Berkhof’s ecclesiology is important: his overall treatment is first,
institution, then, community, and finally, mission. The church’s mission in the world
comes last and he begins this new section: “As the institute mediates Christ to the
congregation, so the congregation in turn mediates him to the world. In this chain the
world comes last, yet it is the goal that gives meaning and purpose to the preceding
links. Everything that has come before serves this goal.”22 All that is done in the
gathering of congregations—the means of grace, leadership, spiritual gifts, and
relationships—form God’s people for their missionary calling in the midst of the
world. “Around the institution a congregation is being gathered, which subsequently
is scattered among the peoples of the world as God’s people. Whatever comes before,
this final development is the goal. But without all the preceding the latter lacks roots,
drive, and force.”23 The church as institution and community serves the church’s
mission in the world.
Defining the relationship of the church in terms of its calling in the world raises
an urgent ecclesiological issue: what is the relationship of the church to the culture
in which it is set? Berkhof argues that both “antithesis toward” and “solidarity with”
is the only faithful stance.24 There must be solidarity with our culture yet separation
from its idolatry. The church may betray its identity in two directions. The first is
“churchism” or “sacralization.” This is when the church forgets its solidarity with its
culture and “turns in upon herself as a bulwark in an evil world or, less aggressively,
as an introverted, self-sufficient group, which is content with her own rites, language
and connections.” The second is “worldliness” or “secularism.” Here the church
abandons its antithesis toward culture and becomes “as much as possible assimilated
and conformed to the world.” In both cases the church “does essentially the same
thing: she avoids the clash and the offense.”25 A true encounter with culture demands
identification and rejection, yes and no, participation and withdrawal. Loss of either
one is a recipe for unfaithfulness.
Pastoral theology has often been guilty, in Berkhof’s terms, of “churchism” or
“sacralization.” That is, it is the church as institution and community turned in on
itself and divorced from its missional vocation in the world that has guided pastoral
theology. As Newbigin puts it, when the church takes this posture it “thinks primarily
of its duty to care for its own members, and its duty to those outside drops into second
place. A conception of pastoral care is developed which seems to assume that the
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individual believer is primarily a passive recipient of the means of grace which is the
business of the Church to administer.”26
Missional Theology
The ripple effects of a new understanding of mission and the church were far reaching.
There were at least four important areas where its impact was felt: hermeneutics,
theology, leadership, and theological education. Indeed the implications of mission
for all four have continued to work themselves out in the succeeding decades with
a relentless historical logic. For our purposes in this paper it is important to note
the implications of a missional ecclesiology for theology and leadership. After
all, pastoral theology is first and foremost theology, and our understanding of the
ministerial leadership will shape our pastoral theology.
If mission is a dominant motif in the biblical story, it is imperative to ask how this
motif forms theological reflection on Scripture. The early pioneers of the Western
missionary movement were primarily concerned with the pragmatics of carrying out
cross-cultural mission. Little theological reflection on mission seemed necessary in
view of the confident assurance of what they were doing. The crisis of mission in the
early to mid 20th century raised new questions about the nature, goal, and validity
of Christian mission. This produced a growing theological reflection on mission—a
theology of mission. The theology addressed mission as one more theme in the Bible
and asked ‘what is mission?’ However, the centrality of mission in the biblical story
obstinately refused to be reduced to one more biblical theme. A growing chorus of
voices called for something more radical—a move beyond a theology of mission to
a missional theology. Harvie Conn insists that the “question is not simply, or only,
or largely, missions and what it is. The question is also theology and what it does.”27
‘Missional’ as an adjective here is not another minor sub-species of theological
reflection like liberation or feminist theology. Rather it defines a constituent
component of all theological reflection if it is faithful to Scripture. Thus, we are in
need, says David Bosch, of a “missiological agenda for theology rather than just
a theological agenda for mission; for theology rightly understood, has no reason
to exist other than critically to accompany the missio Dei.”28 Along the same
lines Darrell Guder urges that the “formation of the church for mission should be
26. Lesslie Newbigin, Household of God: Lectures on the Nature of the Church (New York:
Friendship Press, 1953), 166–167.
27. Harvie Conn, “The Missionary Task of Theology: A Love/Hate Relationship?” Westminster
Theological Journal 45 (1983): 7
28. David Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission (Maryknoll:
Orbis, 1991), 494.
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the motivating force that shapes and energizes our theological labors in all their
diversity and distinctiveness.”29
These authors are rightly reacting against a theology that “received its main
features [during] the period in which Christianity had practically ceased to be
a missionary religion.”30 Both the nature and purpose of theology and its main
curricular divisions were formed at a time when the church had lost the horizon
of mission from its existence. A major problem was that “the present division of
theological subjects [were] canonized in a period when the church in Europe was
completely introverted.”31
Missional theology is a theological task that probes the implications of the
church’s missional vocation as it participates in the missio Dei. The question is
what difference does it make for theology if the mission of God and the missionary
nature of the church is a constituent thread in the biblical story? This question
must address both the content and goal of theology. Obviously Scripture is the
primary source and authority for theological reflection, and if mission is central
to the Bible then theology must take account of this. Mission must inform the
content of theology. One cannot follow, for example, covenant theologians who
can theologize long about the covenant without ever taking into account the very
missional nature of the covenant given to Abraham and Israel at Sinai—the blessing
of the nations! Moreover, if the central identity of the church is missional then the
question arises as to how theology equips the church for its vocation. Mission as
a central scriptural theme, thus, must also shape the goal of all theological work.
Thus, missional theology is the theological consequence of taking seriously God’s
mission and the church’s participation in that mission.
This needs to be worked out in at least two areas: the congregational life of the
church and the theological curriculum. And it is clear that both of these areas are
very important for pastoral theology. First, how does the missional nature of the
church impact the life of the congregation—its nurturing ministry, its vocation of
witness, and its structures to enable nurture and witness? Second, how does the
dominant motif of mission in the biblical story shape the theological enterprise—
its content of the various disciplines (biblical studies, systematic and historical
theology, church history, ethics and ecumenical studies, pastoral theology), its
curricular division between theoretical theology (biblical studies, systematic
theology, church history) and practical theology, its purpose, its unity, and its
methodology? To quote the striking words of Harvie Conn: “Missiology stands by
29. Darrell Guder, “From Mission and Theology to Missional Theology,” The Princeton Semi-
nary Bulletin XXIV, 1, (2003): 48.
30. Lesslie Newbigin, Honest Religion for Secular Man (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1966),
102.
31. David Bosch, “Theological Education in Missionary Perspective,” Missiology 10, 1 (January
1982): 26.
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to interrupt at every significant moment in the theological conversation with the
words ‘among the nations.’”32
Those reflecting on missional theology did not simply add ‘for the sake of
the world’ to existing theologies as missional icing on an otherwise existing
theological cake. In fact, we hear a call for renewed reflection on the very nature
of theology itself.33 To what degree has Western theology been shaped by the
idolatry of its own culture? The limitations of space do not allow us to wade into
these deep waters here even though there are implications for pastoral theology.
But we do need to at least note a couple of issues that were prominent in the
writing of mission scholars and are relevant to our topic. Specifically theology
must be both contextual and formational. Grasping these two characteristics of
theology will challenge a theory-praxis dichotomy.
All theology is contextual. Perhaps this is one of the most important
contributions that both mission theology and Third World theology can make to
the West dominated as it is by pagan Greek thought. Missional theology rejects
the notion of a theologia perennis or confessio perennis—a timeless theology or
confession valid for all times and places—and is alert to the fact that all theology
and all confessional statements take place in a particular historical and cultural
context. There is no supra- or meta-cultural theology; in fact, it is dangerous to
believe there is. All attempts to construct timeless and universal theology, says
Harvie Conn, are “destructive of mission. Seeing theology as an essentializing
science and the creeds as the product of that kind of theological reflection inhibits
us as well from facing up to our own contemporary missiological task and its
risk.”34 Theology, which makes the claim to be timeless, is actually attempting to
pass off a contextual theology from another time or place as universal theology.
Yet this is an illusion born of a Greek view of truth where one misunderstands
theology as an “abstractionist task, a searching for essences untouched by the
realities of the cultural context.”35
There is only theology that reflects on the gospel in a particular context and
is directed to the particular needs of a church. While the gospel has universal
validity our particular theologies and confessions do not. Theology is contextual
in two senses: “Theology speaks out of the historical context; and theology must
speak to that context.”36 Latin American evangelical theologian Orlando Costas
argues that theology is “reflection that takes place in the concrete missionary
situation, as part of the church’s missionary obedience to and participation in
32. Conn, Eternal Word, 224.
33. An excellent example is Conn’s chapter “Theology and Theologizing: A New Course,” in
Eternal Word, 211–260.
34. Conn, Eternal Word, 223.
35. Harvie Conn, “Contextual Theologies: The Problem of Agendas,” Westminster Theological
Journal 52 (1990): 59.
36. Conn, Contextual Theologies, 61. Emphases mine.
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God’s mission and is itself actualized in that situation.”37 Theology arises out of
and addresses the current issues that churches face in their missional calling. One
might rephrase a popular comment attributed to Martin Luther: “If your theology
deals with all aspects of Scripture with the exception of the issues which deal
specifically with your time you are not doing theology at all.” Theology is always
contextual; it brings the enduring light of Scripture to bear on the church’s mission
in a particular time and place. While particular contextual theologies may well
enrich churches in other cultural contexts—in fact, they always will if they are
rooted in Scripture since the gospel is universally true—they will be formed by
particular cultural traditions and missional contexts in response to the needs of the
church in that setting.
The very nature of theology as contextual reflection on universally valid
divine revelation urgently requires a threefold dialogue with Christians from other
cultures, from other historical eras, and from other confessional traditions. If our
theologies are not to become parochial and accommodated to the idolatry of our
particular cultures we will need the mutually correcting and enriching voices of
Christians from other settings.
Theology that is contextual in this sense will always be formational. If theology
arises out of a missional context and is directed back to that context it will have
transforming power. Theology is not just a matter of passing along accurate
information although it will not be less than that. Theology must have power to
form and equip leaders for their pastoral calling to lead missional congregations.
Conn argues that the “ultimate test of any theological discourse, after all, is not
only erudite precision but also transformative power.”38 Costas agrees: “It is a
question of whether or not theology can articulate the faith in a way that is not only
intellectually sound but spiritually energizing, and therefore, capable of leading
the people of God to be transformed in their way of life and to commit themselves
to God’s mission in the world.”39
Conn borrows and transforms the notion of conscientization from liberation
theology to describe the goal of theology. Conscientization is “the awakening
of the Christian conscience to reflection and action in God’s world” under the
comprehensive authority of the Scriptures.40 Theology, then, has this conscientizing
goal of forming a people by making them aware of what it means to be faithful
in each missional situation to the gospel: “theologizing becomes more than the
effective communication of the content of the gospel to the cultural context; it
37. Orlando Costas, Theology of the Crossroads in Contemporary Latin America (Amsterdam:
Rodopi, 1976), 8.
38. Conn, Contextual Theologies, 63.
39. Orlando Costas, “Evangelical Theology in the Two Thirds World,” TSF Bulletin 9, 1 (Septem-
ber-October, 1985): 10.
40. Conn, Eternal Word, 310.
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becomes the process of the covenant conscientization of the whole people of God
to the hermeneutical obligations of the gospel.”41
Here theoretical reflection and missional praxis are much more deeply
intertwined than is evident in a theory-praxis dichotomy that begins with abstract
theoretical reflection, which is then applied as a second step to a particular context.
Theological reflection arises out of a particular missionary situation in which we
are committed to missionary obedience, and it has the goal of shaping the people
of God for their missionary calling.
Missional Leadership
The missional turn leading to a renewed ecclesiology has also produced fresh
reflection on ecclesial leadership. If the church is missional in its very nature the
question arises as to what kind of leadership is needed for this kind of church? There
is a growing sense among many after Willingen that a missionary understanding
of the church demands new forms of leadership. For example, Lesslie Newbigin
pressed this issue. A missional church demands a very different kind of leader than
the maintenance church of Christendom. “We cannot talk long about ministry without
talking about mission. Ministry must be conceived always in terms of the Church’s
mission.”42 His repeated refrain is the “question that has to be asked—and repeatedly
asked—is whether the traditional forms of ministry which have been inherited from
the ‘Christendom’ period are fully compatible with the faith that the Church is called
to be a missionary community.”43
Both Conn and Newbigin set out to rethink ministerial leadership in a missional
church. Conn sketches three concepts of ministry: minister as pedagogue, as
professional, and as participant. His primary concern is that the first two images,
the more traditional notion of ecclesial leadership, separates the minister from the
missional calling of the church in the world.44 Newbigin is likewise concerned about
this. Two operative words repeatedly appear in his discussion of ministerial leadership
to get at this issue: lead and equip. What is distinctive is the way he relates the two:
leaders are those who lead first by following hard after Jesus in mission, and in the
process equip others to follow after.
Two Scriptural texts undergird his notion of leading: “Follow me as I follow the
example of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1); and Mark 14:42 which Newbigin translates “Come
on: let’s go.” In this Marcan text we see Jesus leading by way of example as he
goes to the cross. Newbigin draws on a picture of Jesus portrayed by the Italian
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director Pasolini in the movie The Gospel According to Matthew. Jesus is pictured as
a commander leading his troops into battle. He goes ahead of the disciples leading
them while throwing words of encouragement, instruction, and challenge back over
his shoulder as they follow him in their missionary task. A leader is not “like a queen
bee who remains at the center while the worker bees go out into the world.”45 Nor is
a leader “like a general who sits at headquarters and sends his troops into battle. He
goes at their head and takes the brunt of the enemy attack. He enables and encourages
them by leading them, not just by telling them. In this picture, the words of Jesus have
a quite different force. They all find their meaning in the central keyword, ‘Follow
me.’”46
Newbigin makes a strategic choice with the word ‘leadership’ precisely because
he wants to convey this notion of participatory engagement in leading. He recognizes
that in the New Testament there are many metaphors for leadership: shepherds,
overseers, watchmen, stewards, ambassadors, servants, and so on. He notes that the
primary metaphor today is that of a shepherd with the term ‘pastor.’ He says, however,
that the shepherd today conveys a very different picture than in biblical times. Then
a shepherd was a king who governed his people and led them into battle. Leadership
best conveys the combined notion of discipleship and leadership found in the New
Testament.
As one who leads, a leader is also to equip others for the task. Newbigin uses
many terms—serve, nourish, sustain, guide, enable, encourage.47 He points to four
ways a leader may equip the congregation: the ministry of word and sacraments to
the congregation; upholding in prayer the congregation “by name before God as they
go out into the world day by day to wrestle with the principalities and powers;”48
providing “space” and structures in which training for cultural callings may take
place;49 being deeply involved in the ministry of the world themselves so that the
first three are not to be carried out in a Christendom pattern. This will involve both
engagement with the powers in a social and political setting and evangelism: a leader
“should be ready himself to be engaged—as opportunity offers and calls—in direct
evangelistic efforts or in pioneering movements of Christian action in the secular
world.”50 This does not mean that the minister is directly involved in all areas of
45. Newbigin, Ministry (Unpublished paper, 1982), 3.
46. Lesslie Newbigin, Gospel in a Pluralist Society (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989), 240.
47. E.g., Newbigin, Gospel in a Pluralist Society, 234–241.
48. Lesslie Newbigin, “Bible Studies: Four Talks on 1 Peter,” in We Were Brought Together, ed.
David M. Taylor (Sydney: Australian Council for the World Council of Churches, 1960), 119; cf.
Lesslie Newbigin, The Good Shepherd: Meditations on Christian Ministry in Today’s World (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977), 143.
49. Lesslie Newbigin, “Episcopacy and Authority,” Churchman (1990) 104, 4, 338; Good Shep-
herd, 80–81.
50. Lesslie Newbigin, “The Bishop and the Ministry of Mission,” in Today’s Church and Today’s
World, ed. J. Howe (London: CIO Publishing, 1977), 246; see also Gospel in a Pluralist Society, 240;
Good Shepherd, 60–61.
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culture. Rather as situations arise the leader is called to represent the whole church in
challenging the idols and powers in public life.
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the pastoral vocation and practice. It will be theological reflection that arises out of
the setting of ecclesial leadership and is directed back to shaping it more faithfully.
Our educational history has passed along a questionable legacy that separates our
theological reflection from what may be called ‘skills’ and practices. Perhaps a term
I encountered almost thirty years ago early in my academic career may be helpful.
The term is designed specifically to move beyond a theory-praxis kind of dichotomy
at work in the university. The context was the growth of professional programs in
the university that focused on teaching ‘skills.’ The question was how to fit these
professional programs into a liberal arts university with a tradition of theoretical
reflection. The term offered as a way beyond this impasse was ‘serviceable insight.’55
We need insight that enables us to serve Christ’s kingdom, and that insight may
be focused theological reflection, and may also attend to practices in light of that
reflection. We struggle under the authority and in the light of Scripture to reflect on
what we are doing as leaders in God’s church with the goal of gaining insight that
equips us to serve God’s people for the sake of the world. This sets all reflection
on ecclesial leadership in a theological context as each aspect of pastoral ministry
is brought under the searching light of Scripture. But the goal is how can one be a
faithful leader in the church.
Third, pastoral theology equips missional leaders for their calling in a missional
church. Here our ecclesiology deeply impacts our pastoral practice. If an ecclesiology
that recognizes much of Berkhof’s concern as valid then the whole institutional and
communal life of the church is to nourish the people of God with the life of Christ.
But that is not an end in itself; we are blessed to be a blessing. Thus, the question
must be pressed: how does an orientation to the world reshape preaching, pastoral
care, counselling, formation, worship, sacraments—the whole breadth of areas often
considered in pastoral theology? To take the example of pastoral care: Often this
area is considered primarily in terms of care for various members. And when this is
connected to a consumerist ecclesiology that sees the church as a vendor of religious
goods and services, this vision of pastoral care can be deadly. What would pastoral
care look like if the primary goal was to equip members for their calling in the world?
How would a missional vision, moreover, reshape our practices on Sunday morning
including preaching, liturgy, and sacraments?56
There is much to explore here but to provide one example. An area of worship that
has been part of the church’s liturgy for much of its history is confession of sin. In
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my own Reformed tradition, the service of confession might proceed as follows: call
to confession, confession of sin, words of forgiveness and assurance, and possibly
the call to walk in obedience. Such a way of proceeding will teach the members each
Sunday that forgiveness of sins is simply a gift they can enjoy. However, if in our
call to confession we remind the congregation that our failure to follow Christ is also
a matter of unfaithfulness in our missional calling, and if we conclude the service of
confession with a call to walk in obedience for the sake of the world, it would nourish
a missional vision week by week.
Fourth, pastoral theology will equip leaders in three areas—nurturing ministry,
missional vocation, and ecclesial structures.57 One way of structuring pastoral
theology in a missional way is to consider ecclesial leadership in terms of three areas.
There is the nurturing ministry in the institutional and communal life of the church.
Here many traditional areas are considered such as preaching, worship, sacraments,
fellowship, pastoral care, formation, leadership training, equipping families, and so
on. Again, as mentioned in the previous point the question must be pressed how these
can be carried out within a missional vision for the church.
There is also the outward calling of the church. What is the role of leaders in
equipping and leading the congregation in evangelism, mercy and justice, cross-
cultural missions? But there are many neglected areas we need to consider if we take
seriously our vocation in the world. For example, if our congregations are going to
be a faithful presence they must live out a missionary encounter with the idols of
culture. In this way, they must know their culture and religious vision shaping it.
Also, the question of what it means to be a distinctive community in our particular
cultural context is urgent. Finally, faithfulness in our vocations in public life is an
important area.
A final area of pastoral theology would be a consideration of the structures
that either enable or hinder the church from working out its nurturing life and its
vocation in the midst of the world. On several occasions, Newbigin rightly pressed
the question, “Does the very structure of our congregations contradict the missionary
calling of the church?”58 He charges that we “are saying that we have recovered a
radically missionary theology of the Church. But the actual structure of our Churches
… does not reflect that theology.” The problem is that the “actual structures continue
to placidly reflect the static ‘Christendom’ theology of the eighteenth century.”59
Here we need to ask about congregational, leadership, ecumenical, missionary, and
budgetary structures of our congregations. Our question is whether or not these
structures enable the church to be faithful to its calling.
57. This is how I structured a course I taught at Calvin Theological Seminary from 2012–2015 en-
titled ‘Introduction to Missional Ministry’. It is also the way we structure the whole ‘congregational
theology’ component of our curriculum at Missional Training Centre—Phoenix.
58. Newbigin, “Developments During 1962,” 9.
59. Lesslie Newbigin, Unfinished Agenda: An Updated Autobiography (Edinburgh: St Andrews
Press, 1993), 148.
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Fifth, as one thread in the seamless fabric of theology pastoral theology will
be connected to and integrated with the other theological disciplines. Theological
reflection in biblical studies, systematic theology, and church history will shape
and inform pastoral theology. This is not to say that these areas of theology provide
neutral theoretical grist for the practical mill of pastoral theology. It is the organic and
connected nature of theological reflection or theologizing as a whole that means each
area may and must contribute to the whole.
But there are two neglected areas within the theological curriculum that must
be revived for the sake of faithful pastoral theology: cultural theology and spiritual
formation. In the latter half of the 1960s, the missionaries and Third World theologians
began to question Western practices of theological education, that would ultimately
lead to the terminology of ‘contextualization’ in 1972. Their rethinking revolved
around the insight that understanding cultural context could no longer be a side issue
in training pastoral leadership.60 Taiwanese theologian Shoki Coe believes pastoral
leaders needed a “deeper understanding of the Gospel in the context of the particular
cultural and religious setting of the Church, so that the Church may come to a deeper
understanding of itself as a missionary community sent into the world and to a more
effectual encounter within the life of the society.”61 Japanese theologian Kosuke
Koyama argues that a missionary pastor needs “two kinds of exegesis: exegesis of
the Word of God and exegesis of the life and culture of the people among whom he
lives and works.”62
The church will always embody the gospel in a particular cultural context. Our
preaching, our forms of leadership and worship, our understanding of counselling
and pastoral care—indeed, every aspect of our pastoral life will be shaped by
cultural assumptions. Thus, it will be essential to be aware of both the creational
and idolatrous currents at work in any culture if we are to be faithful to the gospel in
our pastoral practice. The problem is that we are like fish swimming in our cultural
waters unaware that it is polluted. How easy it is to take on, for example, Harvard
business models of leadership within the church or therapeutic practices of pastoral
care or entertainment features of popular culture in our worship with little critique of
the idols that shape them? A study of culture, therefore, cannot be an optional extra
in theological education but must inform theological reflection on pastoral theology.
Spiritual and moral formation is also important. If leaders are set aside for prayer
and the Word (Acts 6:4), and if leaders must be examples in their godly conduct (1
Tim 3:1–8), then the intellectual formation and skills acquisition that has been the
60. See Harvie M. Conn, “Theological Education and the Search for Excellence,” Westminster
Theological Journal 41, 2 (Spring 1979): 311–363.
61. Shoki Coe, “In Search of Renewal in Theological Education,” Theological Education, Vol. IX,
No. 4 (Summer, 1973): 236.
62. Kosuke Koyama, Water Buffalo Theology (25th anniversary edition, revised and expanded;
Maryknoll: Orbis, 1999 [1974]), p. 65. In fact, says Koyama, we maintain our “missionary identity”
only if we are “entangled in” or “sandwiched between” these two realities.
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traditional emphasis of pastoral theology is simply inadequate and even dangerous.
Many questions arise as to how this might take place in the formation of leaders
and this is not the place to enter the conversation. But reflection on the prayer and
family life of the leader, as well as how they have learned to listen to God’s address
in Scripture, for example, needs to be part of that training.
Conclusion
The insights of mission leaders and Southern hemisphere leaders of a generation
ago on the theological equipping of pastors still offers much to us if we are willing to
listen. They can see the limitations and distortions of Western culture on our pastoral
theology. No doubt it offers only one source for the renewal of pastoral theology. But
if we are wise we will listen and ask if there is biblical insight that may make us more
faithful.
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[JBTS 3.1 (2018): 139–153]
Andrew Zantingh
Abstract: For close to twenty-five years, I have been learning how to care for the
congregations God has called me to serve. In this respect, I am like most other
professional pastors who paid significant money to be trained by professional
professors to gain the necessary skills and techniques to do specialized care in a
congregational setting. In addition to being a pastor, I now also teach graduate level
pastoral care courses for pastors. The following paper is my theological reflection
on the task of training pastors to do pastoral care in a missional way. There are some
significant problems with our current approach to pastoral theology. In this volume,
Michael Goheen identifies three crucial assumptions that have negatively shaped
pastoral theology’s historical growth as a theological discipline: a theory-practice
dichotomy, a professionalized view of the pastoral ministry, and a non-missional
understanding of the church. My pastoral care experience bears out how these three
assumptions have led to a faulty pastoral theology. In this article, I wish to offer an
alternative approach to pastoral care from a missional mode. In doing so, I offer a
solution which overcomes the theory-praxis dichotomy, that properly positions the
role of the pastors as lead discipler, and one that correctly locates pastoral care in
the context of a missional understanding of the church. I will do this by sketching
the problem of pastoral care from ministry experience, by constructing theological
contours that reframe pastoral care in the missional mode, by offering a concrete
example of this kind of pastoral care in action, and finally by sketching a dynamic
approach to theological education that can equip pastors for such care.
Key Words: Pastoral care, Pastoral Theology, Missional Theology, Pastoral Ministry
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Introduction
A Critique of a Contemporary Approach to Pastoral Care
There are three assumptions that have given rise to a faulty approach to theological
education as a whole and to the pastoral theology in particular. The first is the
theory-practice dichotomy. My theological training would be considered top
drawer academically, but my training clearly embodied this problematic dualism.
The expressed aim of my seminary education was to help seminarians to think
theologically, which came to mean the ability to think theoretically and abstractly
about God, the Bible, God’s people and the world. It was then the task of the practical
theology department to take us “theological pit bulls” and turn us into “caring
practitioners.” The phrases in quotations were the actual words of my pastoral care
professor. He had to teach us how to access our hearts through empathy—which
enabled us to feel as well as think. But herein lies the problem. He had to try to put
together inside of us what our education had artificially pulled apart into categories
of theory and praxis. To put it in the vernacular, he had to try to get theology students
“out of their heads and into their hearts.” I remember covenanting with myself that if
I ever got the opportunity to train others, I would try to heal the wounds created by
this theory-practice lobotomy.
Two decades of professional ministry highlight the second problem with pastoral
theology—that we assume it is the proper task of professionals to care for church
members. After graduating from an American seminary, it was my aim to become
a consummate professional, someone who could integrate theory and practice in a
particular congregation in a Canadian context. In the mind of the members, I was
clearly viewed as the trained professional who alone could provide the primary
care to the church. So a second dualism, the clergy-laity distinction, persisted in
both pastor and parishioners. This invisible divide provided an on-going recipe for
congregational disappointment and disempowerment. If I did not provide care often
enough, there was disappointment. Even if I trained elders, deacons and caregivers
to provide care in my place, they felt disempowered by members’ tacit expectations
to be cared for by a professional. This invisible divide also fed my pastoral guilt
over never caring enough and deepened my discouragement over never be able to be
enough to meet the high consumer demand for professionalized care.
This error leads to a third problem I experienced in the parish—the church’s
non-missional self-understanding. I served both an established church and young
church plant; and in both I discovered a similar mindset. The church exists for
its own members—for the sake of itself. In the established church I served, the
remaining members of this aging congregation were a highly introverted group
who were singly focused on the survival of their institutional church. They were not
able to articulate a purpose for their church’s existence beyond the benefitting of its
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own members—a clear expression of “sacred egocentricity.”1 This inward-focused
view limited pastoral care to the horizon of “members only.” In the church plant,
the congregants could articulate a much more outwardly focused orientation for its
existence in the community. But in actuality, pastoral care was largely determined and
driven by consumer expectation of paid staff caring for the supporting community.
In neither context was there truly an active missionary ecclesiology, an expressed
and experienced reality of the church existing to care for the world.
In my experience of training pastors in Canada, the US and in Europe, it is clear
to me that these problems in pastoral theology are perennial and persistent. These
problems exist in the traditional church, and they persist in contemporary church
plants. Collectively, they are inhibiting the church’s witness at best and contributing
to its demise at worst. But our hope for a new church and a new creation are not tied
to what humans can do, but to what God has done, is doing and will do to bring about
the renewal of the church and the entire creation. God has promised to do this; we get
to participate in this mission. This includes the renewing of pastoral theology.
1. Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV: The Doctrine of Reconciliation, Part 3, 2, trans. G.W.
Bromiley (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1961), 554–569.
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this grounding in God’s caring goodness, human beings can learn to rest assured and
receive the care of God.
All creation, human and non-human, testifies to the reality that God truly cares.
The creation is marvelously vast and intricate. Humans are fearfully and wonderfully
made. All created reality is complex—a complexity that reveals the care of its maker
and sustainer. To his complex imager-bearers, God shares his vocation by mandating
them to become caregivers of each other and caretakers who cultivate communities
that shape culture and realize the creative potential latent in the world.
The logic of pastoral care derives from this theological starting point: pastors
care because God cares. As humans, we share God’s capacity to care. As pastors, we
are called to reflect His care in local congregations. God knows that our capacity for
care has been greatly diminished by sin. But He cares enough to set out on a long
road of redemption to restore humanity—including our care-giving capacity. That is
how much He cares.
A second aspect of a theological framework derives from the long road of
redemption that God travels in the biblical story: God’s care for his creation leads
to his mission of restoration. He does so by forming a people who will be restored to
their full humanity and live as a light in the midst of the dark world. Early on the road
of redemption, God focuses his attention on one single person named Abraham and
his people in order to save all families and all creation. God calls a particular people
out of Egypt, plants them into a new land and puts them on display at the crossroads
of the nations. There God cares for His people and calls them to reflect His care for
all peoples. God calls Abraham and his children into a vocation of care — for each
other and for the sake of the nations. Within Israel, God set aside leaders (Levites,
kings, priest, and prophets) with the task of equipping his people with the end goal
of training people how to receive grace and extend that grace to all. Today, church
leaders are called to shape a culture of care within the church. In particular, pastors
must take the lead in reflecting God’s care for and to His people. But the goal of this
care is to equip the people He has chosen to grow into their full humanity so that they
can be His display case to the world. This missionary view of the church acts as an
essential corrective to our current view of pastors purposed to be paid professionals
that serve paying members for their own sake and satisfaction. By contrast, pastors
are called by God to show others how to live fully human lives so that they can take
their turn in showcasing God’s care for all people.
If the goal of pastoral theology then is to help all human beings be fully alive,
then we need to understand human beings; we need an adequate anthropology.
This is the third aspect of a theology of care: God’s image bearers are multi-
faceted creatures. If people are to be restored to their full humanity, we need an
understanding of humanity that enables us to grasp the multifaceted nature of
humanity. The anthropology of Dutch philosopher Herman Dooyeweerd is extremely
helpful here. He expresses the complexity of the human person as a unity in diversity
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DIAGRAM 1
One need not agree with all aspects of this philosophical framework to see that
this modal scale can help us see that we often over-simplify and reduce the nature
of humanity, rather than embracing our complex or multifaceted existence. A good
pastoral theology must have an anthropology something like the one offered above if
we are going to appreciate the complex nature of human functioning. As pastors, we
want to see humanity flourish at every level of their existence and especially at the
religious control center of the heart. Moreover, such an anthropology enables us to
understand the comprehensive and complex twisting power of sin, the theme of our
next point.
2. Cf. further, Craig G. Bartholomew and Michael W. Goheen, Christian Philosophy: A Systematic
and Narrative Introduction (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2013), 253–259.
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The fourth aspect of our theological framework is that sin is much bigger
and more complicated than we often realize. Sin is a not just bad behavior: it is a
power. G.C. Berkouwer speaks of sin as a “seductive power,” an “active, dynamic
and destructive force,” and a “power that seeks to rule and to ruin everyone and
everything.”3 Sin is also parasitic. It feeds off of and twists our God-given life and
creational functions. Sin is itself a non-entity, a non-being with no ontological
existence apart from something like a living human host.4 Sin resides in the human
heart and hi-jacks all good human desires and distorts them into inordinate love of
created things. This reality, called idolatry in Scripture, causes humans to behave in
all kinds of dehumanizing ways and to experience all manner of dysfunction. Sin
is also pervasive: it affects and pollutes every mode of human existence. The end
result is that sin is just plain painful. Human beings groan and are filled with pain;
there is no simple or easy cure for what ails us. In response to this pain, pastors must
carefully try to understand the unique and complex nature of each person’s ailments
before attempting to alleviate their suffering. If our view of sin remains too small and
too simplistic, we simply will not be able to provide a proper diagnosis or cure. Our
care is impacted by this reductionist understanding and will suffer as a result.
But to further complicate matters we need to see that Paul’s view of evil, for
example in Ephesians 2:1–3, moves beyond the individual. Here he speaks of evil in
terms of three realities: the sinful nature, the world, and the powers. [Diagram 2] 5
DIAGRAM 2
The first is the sinful nature—corrupted human nature that gives humanity a powerful
propensity for sin. The second is the world. This is not to be confused with the good
creation. Rather it is human culture as it has been formed and organized around
idolatry. The flesh or sinful nature is the propensity of each individual toward idolatry
3. G.C. Berkouwer, Sin, Studies in Dogmatics. Translated by Philip C. Holtrop (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1971), 235, 240, 259, 262.
4. There is a long history of reflection of sin in terms of privatio that goes back to Augustine.
Augustine said the evil “has no existence except as a privation of the good” (Confessions 3.7.12). See
Berkouwer’s discussion, Sin, 256–267.
5. This diagram is borrowed from my former New Testament professor at Calvin Theological
Seminary, Mariano Avila, who used it in his opening convocation address in 2013.
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while the world is culture that such people create to serve other gods. Just these
two together would create such a colossal and complicated mess that no amount of
human effort could ever clean it up. But now consider a third reality: the powers.
They are the demonic powers who harass and hurt human beings and incite them to
the personal and systematic vandalism of shalom. These powers act in and through
the oppressive cultural systems or the world. As N.T. Wright put it: “For Paul, the
powers were unseen forces working in the world…through the oppressive systems
that enslaved and tyrannized human beings.”6
Paul’s understanding of sin is the overlapping of these three powerful realities
with a central “sweet spot”—or perhaps “sour spot”—that could be considered “hell
on earth.” Apart from Christ, according to Paul, that is where we live, and move,
and have our pastorates. If this is an accurate picture of how evil impacts reality,
then it is not difficult to draw this conclusion: the world and its caretakers are so
complicated by sin that any care response to save what has been spoiled by sin must
be simultaneously complex and comprehensive, both deep and wide.
The good news is that the nature of salvation in Jesus is as far as the curse is
found. Salvation restores every aspect of human life—and this is our fifth point.
Salvation is much bigger, deeper and wider in scope than we often believe. Salvation
is far bigger than just saving souls; it is instead the restoring of human beings to
their full humanity. Pastoral care is far more than just soul care; it is care for the full
human person so that they may again flourish in every dimension of their created
nature. Jesus himself testifies to the comprehensive scope of his calling to care for
all humanity in Luke 4. Here Jesus reveals that the Spirit of the Lord is equipping
Him to lead the long-awaited turn around beginning with the people who need that
care most: the poor, the prisoner, the sick, and those pressed down by injustice. This
reiteration of the Messiah’s mission from Isaiah 61 would have certainly resonated
with oppressed Israel. Yet the recipients of God’s care and concern are not only for
people like Israel who find themselves in political exile, actual prisoners in danger of
losing their sight during unending dark nights of unjust exile. The intended recipients
of this salvation are to be understood in the most comprehensive sense possible, in
the sense of all sinners suffering from all the corrupting and complicating effects
of sin upon human life. People need salvation from sin in every sense —politically,
emotionally, physically, morally, economically, and so on. And for Luke salvation has
just this scope.7 This is more just soul care of soul salvation. The salvation envisioned
here is a reversal of sin’s effects on creation’s crown in every respect, as far as the
curse is found, so that all creation can share in this freedom from sin’s frustration.
6. N.T. Wright, Colossians and Philemon, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (Downers
Grove: IVP, 1986; reprint, 2008), 77.
7. E. H. Scheffler has studied the word “salvation” in Luke and concludes that salvation has at
least six dimensions: spiritual, physical, economic, political, social, and psychological in Suffering in
Luke’s Gospel (University of Pretoria: Unpublished Doctoral Dissertation, 1988).
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This salvation being discussed here is more than just a special focus of care for
God’s special people. Jesus makes sure that the scope of the servant’s saving work
is not limited here to just Israel by including direct references to foreigners like the
Canaanite widow and a Syrian military commander who become beneficiaries of
God’s healing grace. Jesus clearly connects God’s favor now present in his work as
the power to renew Israel in its calling so that that they might care for all nations,
and not just behave as the sole beneficiaries of God’s care. According to Luke’s
gospel, Jesus’ restoration is to be understood as a comprehensive work—in Israel
and through them to all peoples. This is the proper missional perspective that ought
to frame all pastoral work. It is not just soul care for God’s special people. It is not
less than that, but it is far more. Pastoral care is more than just to care; it is the care
for the full human person as members of a missional body called to care for the whole
human family.
Imagine for a moment how this big view of salvation and mission might impact
a specific person and through that person others. Imagine the person as a diverse
complexity that is unified and directed by their religious center. Imagine Jesus’ saving
power touching the human’s heart, dislodging idols, awakening faith and re-directing
life back to God. Imagine this same grace freely flowing from the heart into all other
modes of that person’s existence restoring order, true direction, and healing to all
these created areas. Imagine this saving work start to impact how this person then
lives in all arenas of life. See this re-creative power flow through this person into the
created structures of marriage, family, and the workplace. See this re-creative power
rearranging this person’s private and public life under Christ’s Lordship. Imagine the
powerful witness this person’s life could become to those around them because Jesus
is not just saving their soul, but renewing their entire heart and life. Imagine this
human being becoming fully alive in Jesus and imagine the impact of this one life on
the larger human family. Imagine shalom spreading to the entire creation, restoration
flowing as far as the curse is found. This is the scope of Jesus’ kingdom mission. As
pastors, we get to help steward this salvation in the lives of God’s people for the sake
of all people. Can we imagine this?
A note of caution is warranted here. Being faith-filled caregivers is not to assume
that we will ever fully experience human beings becoming fully restored in this era of
redemptive-history. And so we must add a sixth aspect to our theological framework:
restoration must be seen in light of the already-not yet nature of the coming kingdom.
Because the kingdom is already here but not yet fully arrived, human beings have not
yet and will not yet reach their full human potential.
On the one hand, we must believe that the kingdom has come (cf. Matthew
12:28). The power of God is present for the healing of all of human life. Pastors
must believe that in the gospel there really is healing power to deliver people from
the on-going effects of sin and evil. Pastors must be trained in the practices that
bring freedom from these powers of the old age. Without these tools, both pastor
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and congregation will not be properly equipped to engage in God’s mission in this
world. On the other hand, we must not believe that the kingdom has fully arrived.
We will continue to suffer from the squeeze of the sinful nature, the world, and
demonic powers. We will continue to suffer all forms of dysfunction up to the reality
of death and its accompanying grief. We should not preach or practice a theology
that assumes the powers of the old age have already passed away, for they are still
present and powerful. People still choose to participate with them resulting in real
pain. Good pastoral care responds fully and faithfully to this pain with the Spirit’s
power, even though there is not yet full restoration despite our most faithful efforts.
This is sobering, because it means we must learn to suffer with people in patience
and in hope of the full salvation still coming in Christ.
We conclude this section on theological contours with a last one that puts
pastoral ministry in proper ecclesiological perspective: the church is a sent people.
The church is a community called and commissioned by Jesus to be a distinctive
people, a people fully alive to their true humanity in a dead and dying world, a
display people who showcase what it looks to be truly human and invite others
into this life-giving reality. The church is sent with the authority of Jesus to make
disciples, learners of the way of Jesus, who themselves learn to make disciples who
also make disciples. Multiplication of the life of Jesus is clearly in view here. Pastors
are called by God to lead and equip the church in its continuing mission to make
disciples of all nations. It is essential to understand the key role the pastor plays in
the fulfillment of this mission. Pastors are not intended to simply provide soul care
to congregational members for their own sake. Instead, they must be equipped to live
into their “sentness.”
Lesslie Newbigin’s model of ministerial leadership is extremely insightful here
as it directly combines the three notions of leadership, discipleship, and mission. In
his discussion of John 20:19–23, Newbigin rightly claims that Jesus is speaking to the
disciples neither as exclusive church members nor as exclusive leaders of the church.8
Rather, he addresses them as both members and leaders. Both share the same calling.
The church is commissioned to make disciples; and leaders are called to lead and
equip the church to fulfill its disciple-making calling. To state this simply: leaders
exist to enable disciples. Pastors then are lead disciple-makers, not simply caregivers.
As Newbigin puts it “ministry in the Church is so following Jesus on the way of the
cross that others are enabled to follow and to become themselves leaders of others in
the same way.”9 Care is part of disciple-making.
This umbrella of lead discipleship is the proper umbrella for understanding the
place of pastoral care in the missionary church. In my judgment, pastoral care is about
removing barriers in people so that they may be faithful and fruitful in following
8. Lesslie Newbigin, Ministry. Unpublished paper, 1982; How Should We Understand Sacraments
and Ministry? Unpublished paper, 1983.
9. Newbigin, How Should We Understand Sacraments and Ministry?, 9.
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Jesus. Sin and all its effects constantly threaten to ransack people and sideline
them from the family business of making disciples. Pastoral care is the ministry of
diagnosing what ails people and carefully restoring them to health through the gospel
so that they can continue to learn to follow Jesus for the sake of the world and teach
others to do likewise. Without placing pastoral care in its proper context of missional
discipleship, the church’s care ministry becomes disoriented and functions as an end
in itself. This is precisely where the contemporary church in the West finds itself.
But as the church rediscovers its sent-ness as God’s missional people sent to make
disciples, pastoral care takes its rightful and critical place in healing people for the
sake of mission. Without this ministry of pastoral care, disciples simply get taken
out by sin and evil, and fail to become a living example of Jesus for others to see
and follow.
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others in Jesus’ name. So she asked if she could pray for her friend. Her dying friend
agreed to receive prayer. But on the way to the palliative care facility, Mrs. Carlson
became very anxious. Her faith had grown, but she was feeling her inexperience and
inadequacy. So she invited a member of the pastoral staff at church to accompany
her. The staff soon arrived and modeled some simple steps for healing prayer. Mrs.
Carlson joined in and eventually took the lead. Later, she visited routinely and prayed
on her own repeatedly. Within a few days, the terminally-ill woman revived and
returned home to resume a reasonably normal life.
Notice some of the contours of pastoral care at work here. The pastors cared,
but they were not paid to simply care for members. They took the lead in caring
for their members in order to equip them for God’s mission of disciple-making.
They intentionally made disciples who made disciples who in turn cared for others
in Jesus’ name. Furthermore, the effects of sin certainly loomed large in the sick
woman’s situation. She was confined to a bed of physical, emotional, relational,
and financial need. There was no simple fix to this sin-sick situation. But into this
complicated situation, Jesus’s salvation came through the multifaceted care of Mrs.
Carlson and her family. Through their example, disciples of Jesus were being made
of the children in both families. In addition, the neighbors watched the Carlsons and
observed what God was really like through the lives of His people. In fact, people
from several nations from around the world had been gathered on that street to
witness this intentional act of caretaking. The Carlsons and their congregation were
and still are on display. Their faith is carefully shining forth. This is the already of
the kingdom being lived out at street level.
But at the same time, the not-yet of the kingdom was painfully present. The
cancer returned two years later with a deadly vengeance. The single mother died, and
her children were adopted. The Carlson family struggled with deep grief and great
existential questions. Then to complicate matters, the pastor who discipled the couple
also died from cancer. Mr. Carlson was especially close to this pastor, and his grief
was further compounded when he lost a good friend at work in the environmental
waste management business. Mr. Carlson began to struggle seriously to stay engaged
at work, at church, and in his neighborhood. He was sidelined by grief and greatly in
need of pastoral care. His wife knew it, but she was filled with her own grief and was
staving off depression. God’s kingdom mission seemed to be sidelined. If we consider
the Carlsons to be the sharp point of the kingdom spear in that neighborhood, then
sin and suffering had blunted the couple’s passion for serving God there. Faith had
been eclipsed by fear and doubt. Care had been clouded by anger and apathy. The
not-yet of the kingdom was squeezing the life out of this Jesus following family.
But the story was and is far from over. Another pastor from the same church
noticed that the family was regularly absent from the Sunday gathering. She touched
base by means of a caring text and a follow up phone call. Mrs. Carlson responded
in kind and acknowledged their need for care. What happened next was even more
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complex caring into a complicated context. But the pastor had been trained well. She
knew the dynamics of grief; she knew that grief comes in like a storm of madness
and breaks with tears of sadness. In her visits, she helped the couple move from mad
to sad, from anger to grief. Thanks to her sensitivity and the Spirit’s work, the storm
clouds of grief blew through. Her empathic listening helped them gradually move
from despair to hope. The pastor set up regular times to help them visit their grief
in order that they might heal. She did all this because she genuinely cared for them
out of the care she herself had received from the Father. She did all this, not because
no one else could do it, but so that others could learn how to do it as well. The good
news is that the Carlsons are being restored again to being attentive care-givers to
their children, their neighbors, their co-workers, and to the environment as well. This
is just one example of how a faithful and fruitful process of pastoral care unfolded. It
resulted in a people equipped again to participate in God’s mission.
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God’s mission or develop a life-style worth imitating. They themselves have not been
led in a way that equipped them for mission; and therefore they will not be equipped
to lead others to do the same. Lead disciples are made through intensive, intentional,
life-on-life interaction over time. Lead disciples cannot be mass-produced. Because
of its intensive nature, making lead disciples who make disciples must start slow.
But it eventually picks up speed through multiplication. This is the life-style Jesus
commissioned us to lead, a life that leads to equip. Doing theological education in
this discipleship mode is the cure for theory-praxis dichotomy.
I could easily be misunderstood here as impatient or mistakenly viewed as anti–
intellectual and opposed to academic scholarship or qualified professors. But this
would be a mistake and a misunderstanding of my position. The church will continue
to need a sustained and deep theological reflection of its experiences of ministry and
mission in the world, but the academic reflections must be combined with our born
from actual experiences and directed back into the service of the mission. Professors
of theology who train pastors must have a life-worth imitating, not only in terms of
their scholarship, but also in terms of their own discipleship journey. What needs
to change is not the rigor of our theological reflection, but our overly abstracted
reflection detached from missional praxis and our rigid educational structures that
deliver a static formation process, which does not effective disciple-makers make.
Going forward, we will need to be flexible experimenting with models that help
us make disciples in the missional mode. It will likely take numerous iterations to
develop a theological education that integrates reflection and imitation, but those
engaging in this enterprise are worthy of their calling.
It is within this context of discipleship that pastoral care can finds its rightful
place. As mentioned earlier, pastoral care is a dynamic process of finding out what
ails our disciples, removing those barriers to fruitfulness, and restoring them to
health so that they might take up their place in God’s mission to make disciples of
the world. The Carlson’s example above demonstrates what a dynamic process this
is. Pastoral care in the missional mode must teach lead disciples how to diagnose the
dynamics operating in the lives of people, marriages, families, and church families if
they are to be going to be effective in equipping a people for mission
The theological reflection on humanity and on sin discussed earlier helps
us gain insight into the human’s complex condition and for the need for equally
nuanced diagnosis. Diagnosis begins at the level of human behavior. Dooyeweerd’s
philosophical anthropology helps us understand the direct connection between the
diversity of human behavior and its center in the heart. An individual’s outward
behavior in any given area of life or mode of existence never lies. It reveals the
direction of the heart and the idols that live there. Idolatry creates all kinds of
inordinate desire, distortions, dysfunction, and dehumanizing behaviors. If we learn
to read behavior, we can carefully help expose these dynamics, displace these false
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loves with a greater love, and help people develop healthier rhythms of life rooted in
grace and freedom.
Furthermore, if we understand human life as mired in the triad of the sinful
nature, the world, and the demonic, we gain further diagnostic help for the individual
living in community. The sinful individual always functions as a part of a much larger
communal-field of idolatrous distortion and demonic involvement. People come by
idols honestly from their family of origins and society at large. Displacing these idols
requires leaders to do good work to carefully expose the idols that are communally
owned. Sin-sick people struggle to become healthy if there is no change in their
marriage and family, or if there is little understanding of their larger communal and
cultural situation. The dynamics involved here are incredibly complex, but there are
very helpful insights provided by psychology, sociology, and other social-scientific
disciplines. Psychological terms like co-dependency, differentiation, shame-based
families, transference, and many others function as indispensable tools that explain
and expose hidden realities operating below the surface that contribute to unhealthy
patterns of life. The insights of family system theory can help us understand the
tacit sinful scripts that reinforce harmful behaviors in nuclear, extended and church
families. Understanding anxiety as emotional pain and how it often functions to
sabotage change in the church’s emotional system enables pastors to lead through the
necessary change without becoming themselves hurt and reactive. Understanding the
importance of emotionally healthy spirituality and leading others through a process
of growing up can only help to form a showcase people. All these realities involve
hidden, invisible dynamics that must be properly diagnosed if they are to exposed
and healed. And the social sciences may provide helpful insight. At the same time—
although we can’t enter this topic now– we must also be critical of the humanist
religious vision that often drives these insights.
Perhaps the most difficult dysfunctions to diagnose is the presence of the
demonic that oppresses at all levels of human life. This is in part because the
demonic prefers being invisible and operating out of plain sight. But it is also our
collective and categorical denial of the demonic in Western culture that remains the
main reason why we fail to realize and deal with the demonic and their devices.
But there is hope even for secular humanists who deny the reality of the powers.
To paraphrase the great Reformation hymn of Martin Luther: “Although this world
with devils filled should threaten to undo us; we will not fear for Christ has willed
his truth to triumph through us.” Our theological training ought to help our disciples
recognize the presence and power of the demonic power operating both individually
and corporately, and to deal with them decisively.
In the individual, the demonic works to enslave through individual adherence to
idolatry, and is often manifest in addictive and compulsive behaviors. The demonic
also inhabits areas of wounds or unforgiving disposition, but can be easily evicted
once a person is lead through the cleaning process of forgiveness. Leaders must be
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trained in facilitating inner healing processes that can send the demonic packing and
can restore people to following Christ with greater freedom. In the corporate sense,
the demonic encourage the creation of cultural idols and ideology which also create
distortion, dysfunction and dehumanizing behavior. For example, consumerism is
culture patterned on the service of the consumptions of goods and experiences. It
forms the whole of human life and promises fulfilment. As Jane Collier has put it:
“Precisely because the culture of economism is a quasi-religion, with a pretense of
encompassing the totality of life and of bringing happiness and fulfilment, we find
ourselves obliged from a Christian point of view to denounce it as dehumanizing
idolatry…”10 The cure here is to lead leaders in learning how to use intentional
discipleship, rhythms and practices to shape a contrast community that can withstand
the spirits of the age and live as an alternative to people caught in the grip of the
powers. In this way, God’s people can become dynamic participants who cooperate
with the already present and vastly superior power of the Spirit for the sake of freeing
captives currently living under the curse of consumerism.
But the not-yet of the kingdom is a dynamic in our reality that also cannot be
denied. The illustration of the Carlson’s situation demonstrates that healing may but
does not always happen. When death occurs, good grieving must follow. Leaders
can facilitate this grief through the dynamic of empathic listening. Empathy is not
sympathy, that is, simply feeling sorry for people. Nor is it identification, that is,
relating one’s own similar experience to the grieving person. Rather it is entering
another’s emotional frame of reference through active listening. Empathy is a capacity
that all human beings have, but it also must be developed and deepened through
intentional training, the imitation of others and routine practice. When empathy
is properly employed, grieving individuals can be moved over time from despair
to hope. When empathy is practiced in community, belief survives and belonging
thrives. When leaders lead their own grieving disciples through the valley of the
shadow of death to the others side, these disciples are no longer stuck or sidelined by
their grief. They can eventually get on with the mission of getting others to the other
side of grief as well. One day, we know that even death will be no more. But until
that day, pastors must be deal with dynamic reality of grief that pervades all human
experience.
The treatment here of the content of pastoral theology is obviously not intended
to be exhaustive, but illustrative. This is just a sampling of the kind of subjects that
need to be incorporated into a dynamic process of theological discipleship and
reflection. Far more work needs to be done to fill out this skeletal sketch. But it is
offered with the intention of providing some initial insight into how one might re-
imagine the process of pastoral care in a missional mode.
10. Jane Collier, “Contemporary Culture and the Role of Economics,” in The Gospel and Contem-
porary Culture, ed. Hugh Montefiore (London: Mowbray, 1992), 122.
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Marcus J. Serven
Abstract: Many Christians today have distinct impressions of who John Calvin was,
but most have never read a single line from his Institutes of the Christian Religion,
or benefited from the careful exegesis found in his Commentaries on the Bible,
or reflected upon a single salient point from one of his many published sermons.
In brief, the reformer John Calvin (1509–1564) has been misinterpreted, misread,
and misunderstood.1 He is, perhaps, best known for his views on the doctrines of
election, predestination, and reprobation.2 He is also known for his pivotal role in
the prosecution of the arch-heretic Michael Servetus (1511–1553) who rejected
the Trinity and the deity of Jesus Christ.3 But none of these disconnected pieces of
information can demonstrate, in my opinion, the true character of the man. And so,
who really was John Calvin? Hughes O. Old, a noted scholar of Calvin’s life and
theology, states the opinion that, “John Calvin is chiefly remembered as a biblical
scholar and a systematic theologian.”4 Clearly, Calvin distinguished himself through
his theological writing and teaching ministry. However, he also was the preeminent
pastor of the city of Geneva during the time of the Protestant Reformation. John T.
McNeill notes, “Jean Daniel Benoit, the expert on Calvin’s work in the cure of souls,
states boldly that the Genevan Reformer was more pastor than theologian, that, to be
exact, he was a theologian in order to be a better pastor. In his whole reforming work
1. Marilynne Robinson, “The Polemic Against Calvin: The Origin and Consequences of Historical
Reputation,” in Calvin and the Church, Calvin Studies Society Papers 2001, ed. David Foxgrover
(Grand Rapids: Calvin Studies Society, 2002), 96–122. Robinson perceptively notes, “The usual
charges against Calvin are: predestinarianism and the execution of Servetus.” Ibid., 97.
2. Dewey D. Wallace, Jr., “Predestination,” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith, ed. Donald K.
McKim (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992), 291–293.
3. Nathan P. Feldmeth, “Michael Servetus,” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith, 349.
4. Hugh O. Old, “John Calvin,” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith, 45–48.
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Key Words: John Calvin, shepherding, Reformation, pastoral care, pastoral ministry
5. John T. McNeill, A History of the Cure of Souls (New York: Harper Brothers Publishers, 1951),
198.
6. Theodore Beza, “The Life of John Calvin,” in Selected Works of John Calvin: Tracts and Let-
ters, ed. and trans. Henry Beveridge, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: the Calvin Translation Society, 1844; reprint,
Grand Rapids: Baker, 1983), xxi. The personal information contained in Theodore Beza’s seminal
biography of John Calvin will be used throughout this paper. Beza succeeded Calvin in Geneva and
worked closely with him. The fact that Beza was an eyewitness of Calvin’s conduct puts him in an
ideal position to write a comprehensive and reliable biography on John Calvin.
7. John Calvin, “The Author’s Preface,” in Commentary on the Book of Psalms, trans. James
Anderson (Edinburgh: Calvin Translation Society, 1845; reprint edition, Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998),
xli–xliii.
8. Partee, “William Farel,” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith, 135–36.
9. Calvin, “The Author’s Preface,” in Commentary on the Book of Psalms, xlii.
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a pastoral relationship with Calvin that would make a significant impact upon the city
of Geneva, and, in time, upon the whole Protestant world.10
Not all citizens in Geneva were enthused about Calvin’s arrival, since he was a
religious refugee from France, and they snidely referred to him in the minutes of the
Genevan City Council as “ille Gallus” (or, “that Frenchman”).11 Yet, the sovereign
Lord did indeed have a place of on-going ministry for Calvin, although it proved
to be a turbulent place filled with many troublesome people. As the early efforts at
reformation progressed in Geneva, opposition against the reformers increased. This
resistance culminated in the spring of 1538 when the ministers refused to allow the
people to receive the Lord’s Supper and “profane so holy a mystery.” As Easter Sunday
approached on April 21, 1538 the tension became so thick that Calvin reported more
than sixty musket blasts were shot off in front of his home late one night.12 Since the
ministers stubbornly refused to offer the Lord’s Supper, the Little Council of Geneva
voted to ban the ministers from their pulpits. Despite this prohibition, they preached
and did not serve the Lord’s Supper as they had been ordered to do. The next day
the Little Council voted to oust the rebellious preachers. They gave them only three
days to get their affairs in order and to leave the city. Theodore Beza (1519–1605),13
one of the first biographers of Calvin’s life, recalls this chaotic time with Calvin’s
own words:
This decision being intimated to Calvin, “Certainly”, says he, “. . . had I
been the servant of men I had obtained a poor reward, but it is well that I
have served Him who never fails to perform to his servants whatever he has
promised.”14
On April 25, 1538, the three unwanted ministers departed the city leaving behind all
the angry denunciations, jeers, and threats. After making unsuccessful appeals for
mediation of the dispute in Berne and Zurich, Calvin was uncertain of where to go next.
He was eventually recruited by Martin Bucer (1491–1551), a mature and seasoned
reformer, to come to Strasbourg and serve as pastor to a burgeoning congregation of
French refugees.15 While there Calvin married a lovely French widow, Idelette de
Bure, and he adopted her two children, Jacques and Judith, bringing them under his
fatherly care.16
10. Beza, “The Life of John Calvin,” in Selected Works of John Calvin, vol. 1, xxix.
11. Emanuel Stickelberger, Calvin: A Life, trans. David Georg Gelzer (London: James Clarke &
Company, 1959), 49–50.
12. Ibid., 60.
13. Holtrop, “Theodore Beza,” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith, 34–35.
14. Beza, “The Life of John Calvin,” in Selected Works of John Calvin, vol. 1, xxxiii.
15. David F. Wright, “Martin Bucer” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith, 43.
16. Joel R. Beeke, “Practical Lessons from the Life of Idelette Calvin” in Theology Made Prac-
tical: New Studies on John Calvin and His Legacy (Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books,
2017), 24.
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Except for this short interlude of two and a half years in Strasbourg (1538–1541),
Calvin served as the head pastor of the Genevan Church for the remainder of his
life. In this role, he sought to reform the doctrines and morality of the Genevan
people. The years of 1541–1555 proved to be especially tumultuous. His opponents
(the Libertines, or Enfants de Geneve) sought to thwart him, oppose him, intimidate
him, discourage him, and, when they became truly desperate, to assassinate him.17
But God in his providential care, protected Calvin’s life and the reform in Geneva
steadily progressed.
By 1555 the tide of reformation grew so strong that his opponents either came
to embrace his position, or they fled the city. His major achievements are as follows:
the steady exposition and preaching of several thousand transcribed sermons,18
the writing and ongoing use of the Genevan Catechism,19 the establishment of the
Genevan Academy,20 the recruitment and training of a large number of elders and
deacons to administer the affairs of the Genevan church, the publication of the
fifth edition of his Institutes of the Christian Religion,21 the training of numerous
missionaries who were sent throughout Europe, the translation and publication of
the Geneva Bible,22 he translation and publication of the Genevan Psalter,23 and the
thorough-going reform of the city—in its constitution, civil defense, hospitals, legal
system, morals, assistance of refugees, social welfare, and worship.24 His motto, Cor
meum tibi offero, Domine, prompte et sincere (or translated into English, “My heart I
offer to you, O Lord, promptly and sincerely”) became a reflection of his diligent and
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earnest character.25 Worn out from the many trials of ministry and his poor health, he
finally succumbed to death on May 27, 1564 and he was buried in an unmarked grave
in Geneva. The entire city mourned. Theodore Beza tells us that, “He lived 54 years,
10 months, 17 days, the half of which were spent in ministry.”26
Over the course of his career he engaged in all of the normal duties that church
pastors typically participate in—preaching, teaching, prayer, leadership, and
shepherding. The esteemed Calvin scholar Jean-Daniel Benoit offered the following
assessment of Calvin’s pastoral ministry:
The work of Calvin is immense and varied. Theologian, churchman,
organizer of Protestantism in France, founder of the Academy of Geneva,
public lecturer, Bible commentator, preacher at Saint Peter’s—Calvin was
all of these. But to forget or to neglect the fact that Calvin was essentially
and above all a pastor would be to misunderstand precisely that aspect of his
personality which discloses the essential unity of his work, and to overlook
the deep source of those waters which fecundate the entire field of his activity.
In fact, theologian though he was, Calvin was even more a pastor of souls.
More exactly, theology was for him the servant of piety and never a science
sufficient unto itself. His thought is always directed towards life; always he
descends from principles to the practical application; always his pastoral
concern occurs.27
Hence, if a person wants to fully understand John Calvin then they must come to grips
with his most prominent responsibility—the care of souls.
Developing a Plan
Calvin’s overall plan for the pastoral care of Geneva is contained in the “Ecclesiastical
Ordinances.”28 This brief document was initially drafted by Calvin in 1537, but it
was not until his return to Geneva in 1541 that it was finally approved by the City
25. John Calvin, Selected Works of John Calvin: Tracts and Letters, ed. Jules Bonnet, vol. 4
(Edinburgh: Calvin Translation Society, 1844; reprint edition, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House,
1983), 280–281. An allusion to Calvin’s motto can be found in a personal letter he wrote in August
of 1541 from Strasbourg to William Farel who invited him to return to Geneva as soon as possible.
Calvin was extremely reluctant to return to that tumultuous city. He wrote, “But when I remember
that I am not my own, I offer up my heart, presented as a sacrifice to the Lord.”
26. Beza, “The Life of John Calvin,” in Selected Works of John Calvin, vol. 1, xcvi–xcvii.
27. Jean-Daniel Benoit. “Pastoral Care of the Prophet,” in John Calvin Contemporary Prophet.
450th Anniversary Volume celebrating the birth of John Calvin, edited by Jacob T. Hoogstra (Grand
Rapids: Baker, 1959), 51.
28. “Ecclesiastical Ordinances” in The Register of the Company of Pastors of Geneva in the Time
of Calvin, trans. and ed. Philip E. Hughes (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1966), 35–49. For another
source that may be easier to find, see John Calvin: Selections from His Writings, ed. John Dillen-
berger (Scholar’s Press, American Academy of Religion, 1975), 229–244.
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Council.29 The actual enforcement of these biblical principles, however, formed the
main area of difficulty in Calvin’s pastoral ministry until 1555. Although the people
may have approved the “Ecclesiastical Ordinances” in theory, they had not reckoned
with the application of them to all areas of life.30
Following the elections in 1555, when the opponents of Calvin were soundly
defeated, the provisions of the “Ecclesiastical Ordinances” were finally embraced
by the City Council and they were able to be regularly enforced by the Genevan
Consistory. The main components of Calvin’s plan of pastoral care can be broken
down into eight specific areas of ministry: (1) Four orders (or offices) in the Church;
(2) Concerning the Sacraments; (3) Concerning Marriage: (4) Introduction of Hymns;
(5) Concerning Burial; (6) The Visitation of the Sick; (7) The Visitation of Prisoners;
and (8) The Preserving of Discipline in the Church. Here we see the organizational
genius of John Calvin clearly demonstrated. He developed a plan, a road map as
it were, and in his words—“a certain rule and method of living...which our Lord
demonstrated and instituted by His Word.”31 As the years went by he was able to fully
implement that plan for the reformation of the city of Geneva. This illustrates the
great value of having a plan (i.e. a philosophy of ministry with specific goals) that is
clearly written out, understood and embraced by the people, and implemented by the
church leaders. Let us deal now with various aspects of Calvin’s plan.
Raising-Up Leaders
Calvin understood that the ministry of church leaders is one of the ordinary means
for accomplishing spiritual growth in the members of the church. He stated, “If then,
we wish to have the church well-ordered and maintained in its entirety, we must
observe this form of government.”32 In other words, the four officers of the church—
pastors, teachers, elders, and deacons—are all used by God to advance the spiritual
maturity of every member. Calvin puts forward a similar thought in the Institutes of
the Christian Religion where he observes:
Paul writes that Christ, “that he might fill all things,” appointed some to be
“apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, for
the equipment of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the building
up of the body of Christ, until we all reach the unity of the faith and of the
knowledge of the Son of God, to perfect manhood, to the measure of the fully
29. Ibid., 35. The City Council of Geneva voted on November 20, 1541 to approve the “Ecclesias-
tical Ordinances.” This decision, however, did not end the quarrelsome struggle between the minis-
ters and the magistrates over who had the power of excommunication from the Lord’s Supper—that
dispute continued until 1555.
30. Robert D. Linder, “Ecclesiastical Ordinances,” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith,
112–113.
31. “Ecclesiastical Ordinances,” in The Register of the Company of Pastors, 35.
32. Ibid., 35.
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mature age of Christ” [Eph. 4:10–13, Comm., but cf. also Vg.]. We see how
God, who could in a moment perfect his own, nevertheless desires them to
grow up into manhood solely under the education of the church.33
Calvin reasons that the Lord could have supernaturally transformed men and women
by means of his Spirit, but instead God has chosen to use the ordinary means of a
“ministry of men to declare openly his will to us.”34 This ministerial authority and
power is “delegated” by the head of the church, the Lord Jesus Christ. Calvin further
notes:
Now we must speak of the order by which the Lord willed his church to
be governed. He alone should rule and reign in the church as well as have
authority or pre-eminence in it, and this authority should be exercised and
administered by his Word alone. Nevertheless, because he does not dwell
among us in visible presence [Matt. 26:11], we have said that he uses the
ministry of men to declare openly his will to us by mouth, as a sort of
delegated work, not by transferring to them his right and honor, but only that
through their mouths he may do his own work—just as a workman uses a tool
to do his work.35
Thus, as pastors, teachers, elders, and deacons carry out their respective ministries,
they do so under the watchful eye of the head of the church. They are required to give
an account of their ministerial labors to the heavenly Master—have they fed the sheep,
rescued those who have strayed, and protected the sheep from wild predators who
would do them harm?36 In as much as the officers of the church conduct themselves
in an honorable fashion then they are blessed by God for their efforts.
Calvin describes the particular duties of pastors, teachers, elders, and deacons
to a great degree in the “Ecclesiastical Ordinances.” Here are his observations
concerning the responsibilities of the pastor. He descriptively writes:
With regard to pastors, whom Scripture also sometimes calls overseers,
elders, and ministers, their office is to proclaim the Word of God for the
purpose of instructing, admonishing, exhorting, and reproving, both in public
and private, to administer the sacraments, and to exercise fraternal discipline
together with the elders or delegates (commis).37
Moreover, pastoral ministry is not to be seen as an itinerant office so that the minister
travels from place to place, but it is one in which the pastor cares for a specific flock
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of believers in a fixed location. Calvin argues that ministers can “aid other churches”
as occasion dictates, but that primarily a pastor focuses his energy upon his own flock.
Although we assign to each pastor his church, at the same time we do not
deny that a pastor bound to one church can aid other churches—either if any
disturbances occur which require his presence, or if advice be sought from
him concerning some obscure matter...Consequently, this arrangement ought
to be observed as generally as possible: that each person, content with his own
limits, should not break over into another man’s province.38
In this way, the elders carry out a ministry of admonition and encouragement. They
are instructed to not be harsh, but to give their counsel “in a friendly manner.” The
elders are to work hand in hand with the ministers in promoting the spiritual well-
being of the people under their care. The duties of teachers differ from both pastors
and elders. Calvin adds, “The proper office of teachers is to instruct the faithful in
sound doctrine in order that the purity of the Gospel may not be corrupted either by
ignorance or by false opinions.”40
Calvin envisioned that the teachers would be involved in giving public lectures
on the Bible and theology in the Auditoire, which is located next to St. Pierre
Cathedral. He also envisioned the formation of a future college. The “Ecclesiastical
Ordinances” sets forth the following plan:
Establishment of a college: But since it is impossible to profit from such
teaching only if in the first place there is instruction in the languages and
humanities, and since also there is need to raise up seed for the future so
that the Church is not desolate to our children, it will be necessary to build
a college for the purpose of instructing them, with a view to preparing them
both for the ministry and for the civil government.41
Years later his dream was finally realized in the founding of the Genevan Academy,
which specialized in the training of ministers, evangelists, and missionaries.42 In
regards to the office of the deacon, Calvin writes:
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There were always two kinds of deacons in the early Church. The one kind
was deputed to receive, dispense, and keep the goods for the poor, not only
daily alms, but also possessions, revenues, and pensions; the other kind to
care for and remember the sick and administer the allowance for the poor, a
custom which we still retain at present.43
Calvin referred to these “two kinds of deacons” as stewards of church finances and
those who administered the local Genevan hospitals. He gives a more comprehensive
description of their duties in the Institutes, where he writes:
The care of the poor was entrusted to the deacons. However two kinds are
mentioned in the letter to the Romans: “He that gives, let him do it with
simplicity;...he that shows mercy, with cheerfulness” [Rom. 12:8]. Since it is
certain that Paul is speaking of the public office of the church, there must have
been two distinct grades. Unless my judgment deceive me, in the first clause
he designates the deacons who distribute the alms. But the second refers to
those who had devoted themselves to the care of the poor and the sick…If
we accept this (as it must be accepted), there will be two kinds of deacons:
one to serve the church in administering the affairs of the poor; the other, in
caring for the poor themselves. But even though the term diakonia itself has
a wider application, Scripture specifically designates as deacons those whom
the church has appointed to distribute alms and take care of the poor.44
Calvin argues that any one of the offices of the true church should not be taken
upon oneself without the endorsement of a church. These offices necessarily involve
receiving an outward call, or public invitation, to minister in a local church by its own
members. In addition, ordination signifies that a man is set aside for “sacred service”
within Christ’s church.45 In these following quotations Calvin explains ministerial
calling and ordination.
Therefore, in order that noisy and troublesome men should not rashly take
upon themselves to teach or to rule (which might otherwise happen), especial
care was taken that no one should assume public office in the church without
being called.46
There remains the rite of ordination, to which we have given the last place in
the call. It is clear that when the apostles admitted any man to the ministry,
they used no other ceremony than the laying on of hands...Although there
exists no set precept for the laying on of hands, because we see it in continual
use with the apostles, their very careful observance ought to serve in lieu of a
precept. And surely it is useful for the dignity of the ministry to be commended
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to the people by this sort of sign, as also to warn the one ordained that he is
no longer a law unto himself, but bound in servitude to God and the church.47
These statements by Calvin demonstrate the way in which he believes the outward
call to ministry is elevated by God. It is a serious matter for a man to be called to
serve as an officer in Christ’s church, and his calling must be outwardly confirmed by
the local congregation. It should never solely be a matter of an inner call, or a “secret
call,” which is only between that man and God. Church officers should always be
confirmed by a public calling.
These ministers and elders had the spiritual responsibility to advance the teaching
of biblical doctrine and Christian behavior. Violations of biblical standards would
be enforced by the Genevan Consistory; which was made up of representatives from
both the church and civil government.50 If the violations were of a serious nature and
recurrent then a person could be suspended from the Lord’s Table.51
What breaches might lead to suspension from the Lord’s Table? Here are seven
stipulations listed in the “Ecclesiastical Ordinances:”
(1) “If anyone speaks critically against the received doctrine,” (2) “If anyone
is negligent to come to church in such a way that a serious contempt of
Christians is apparent,” (3) “if any one shows himself to be scornful of the
ecclesiastical order,” (4) “those who mock at the specific admonitions of their
neighbor,” (5) “for those notorious and public vices which the Church cannot
condone,” (6) “for those crimes which deserve not only verbal rebuke but
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correction with punishment,” (7) “If through contumacy or rebelliousness
such a person attempts to intrude himself contrary to the prohibition.”52
The length of the suspension, whether it was temporary or permanent, would depend
upon the offending person’s repentance.
Moreover, the pastor who was responsible for administering the Lord’s Supper
was also responsible to “Fence the Table” so that those who were “unworthy”
partakers would not be able to participate in the Lord’s Supper. The minister was
required to say:
We have heard, brethren, in what manner our LORD celebrated the Supper
among his disciples; whence we see that strangers, who are not of the
company of the faithful, may not approach it. Wherefore, in obedience to
this rule, and in the name and by the authority of our Lord JESUS CHRIST, I
excommunicate all idolaters, blasphemers, despisers of God, heretics, and all
who form sects apart, to break the unity of the Church; all perjurers, all who
are rebellious against fathers and mothers, and other superiors, all who are
seditious, contentious, quarrelsome, injurious, adulterers, fornicators, thieves,
misers, ravishers, drunkards, gluttons, and all others who lead scandalous
lives; warning them that they abstain from this Table, lest they pollute and
contaminate the sacred food which our Lord JESUS CHRIST giveth only to
his faithful servants.53
We witness here the serious manner in which the reformers led the people to the
Lord’s Table. A careful distinction is made between those who are “despisers of God”
and those who are “of the company of the faithful.” Those who are true disciples
of Jesus would, by definition, readily confess their sins, repent from their wicked
behavior, and embrace the forgiveness of sins found only in Jesus Christ.54 Such
people were welcome to participate in the Lord’s Supper.
One key area of controversy in Geneva was the subject of excommunication and
upon whose authority it was to be exercised. The “Ecclesiastical Ordinances” clearly
gives that authority to the Consistory, whose decisions were to be enforced by the
civil government, known as the City Council. This disciplinary practice became an
area of great controversy in Geneva, with the City Council challenging the authority
of the Consistory more than once.55 In the end, however, Calvin and the reformers
prevailed and it was the Consistory who “administered the keys of the kingdom.”
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Leading Worship
The Sabbath day worship services in Geneva began to take a regular form
in 1542, following the pattern that Calvin prescribed for the church. Calvin was
certainly influenced by the liturgy he found in use at Strasbourg during his two and
a half years of service while ministering to a congregation of French exiles (1538–
1541). Martin Bucer (1491–1551), as one of the initial Reformers of Strasbourg, had
developed his own liturgy for the city and put it into practice since 1525. Constantly
making improvements, it was finalized and printed in 1539. Upon Calvin’s return
to Geneva in November 1541—and perhaps inspired by Martin Bucer’s Strasbourg
liturgy—he began work on his own form of liturgy in Geneva which was published
in 1542 as “Forms of Prayers for the Church.”56
Central to Calvin’s plan for weekly worship services was his commitment to
make certain that the key elements of the worship service were found within Holy
Scripture. He purposefully skipped over the numerous “inventions of men” that were
to be found in the Roman Catholic Mass. Charles Baird summarizes Calvin’s intent:
The ritual of Calvinism, like its creed, was founded, therefore, on the theory
of a simple return to the scriptural and primitive pattern. Differing from the
systems of Luther and Cramner, it lost sight completely of all practices which
had originated in less remote antiquity; it left the missal and the breviary
among the rubbish of “idolatrous gear” swept out from its renovated churches;
refusing to tamper with the complications of a corrupt ceremonial, whose
forms had long enough weighed upon and wearied the souls of men. It went
back for authority and inspiration to the law and to the testimony of GOD.
Calvin’s form of worship is distinguished by a plain and logical structure.
The several acts of devotion follow in progressive series, commencing with
those which are more primary and preparative, and culminating in the highest
exercises of adoration and faith. This systematic character places it in marked
contrast with other formularies, taken from the old mass-books; the proper
order and connection of whose parts it is sometimes difficult for a mind not
educated in their use to discover.57
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• Reading of Holy Scripture (an appropriate text was chosen by the reader)
• Recitation of the Ten Commandments (or perhaps, this was sung by the
Congregation)
• Call to Worship/Invocation (e.g. Psalm 124:8)
• Exhortation
• Confession of Sins
• Declaration of Pardon (e.g. Psalm 103:8–12)
• Singing of a Psalm (the entire congregation sings in unison)
• Prayer of Illumination and the Lord’s Prayer
• The Sermon59
• Prayer of Intercession
• The Lord’s Supper60
• Invocation
• Recitation of the Creed (e.g. the Apostles’ Creed in unison)
• Words of Institution (1 Corinthians 11:23–30 is read aloud by the Minister)
• The Warning (or, Fencing the Table)
• Call for Personal Examination
• The Invitation
• Sursum Corda61
59. Calvin’s sermons follow the pattern of lectio continua; or one verse after another through an
entire book of the Bible. He would take the Hebrew or Greek text into the pulpit and give a free trans-
lation of the passage in French, and then proceed to preach on that particular text with an open Bible.
His illustrations were sparse, and his applications and exhortations were focused exclusively upon the
text of Scripture. His sermons were, therefore, thoroughly filled with the particular Bible passage that
was the subject of his exposition, and additional references from the Bible in support. Hughes O. Old,
an expert on Reformed worship, notes, “John Calvin was a master of the art of biblical interpretation
and a skilled craftsman in word usage. His sermons are simple, clear, and informative” (Old, “History
of Preaching” in Encyclopedia of the Reformed Faith, 287). Each sermon was roughly thirty to forty
minutes in length and produced an effect upon the listeners that was remarkable and profound. God
used Calvin’s expository preaching to further the reformation of doctrine, family life, and morals.
60. The Lord’s Supper was observed four times a year in Geneva, upon the order of the Mag-
istrates, even though Calvin wished for a greater frequency. See: Institutes 4:17:43 where Calvin
clearly states his preference for weekly communion—“at least once a week.”
61. Sursum Corda = “lift up your hearts.” The real presence of Jesus Christ is found in the heavens
rather than in the physical elements on earth (see: Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 187).
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• Distribution of the Bread and the Wine62
• Prayer of Thanksgiving
• The Blessing, or Benediction (Numbers 6:24–26, Geneva Bible)
• An Exhortation to Give Alms
Calvin writes in other books and tracts more specific principles and policies regarding
the worship of God. Particularly, his short treatise, The Necessity of Reforming the
Church, makes a strong appeal to regulate worship by the Word of God alone;
specifically, those who plan corporate worship are to listen “only to his voice.”63
Calvin forcefully argues:
Moreover, the rule which distinguishes between pure and vitiated worship is
of universal application, in order that we do not adopt any device which seems
fit to ourselves, but look to the injunctions of him who alone is entitled to
prescribe. Therefore, if we would have him to approve our worship, this rule,
which he everywhere enforces with the utmost strictness, must be carefully
observed. For there is a twofold reason why the Lord, in condemning and
prohibiting fictitious worship, requires us to give obedience only to his voice.
First, it tends greatly to establish his authority that we do not follow our own
pleasure, but depend entirely on his sovereignty; and secondly, such is our
folly, that when we are left at liberty, all we are able to do is to go astray. And
then when once we have turned aside from the right path, there is no end to
our wanderings, until we get buried under a multitude of superstitions.64
Hence, churches within the Calvinistic tradition have sought to regulate their worship
services according to the Scriptural “elements,” and the “forms” that are acceptable
to God. Moreover, the “circumstances” of the church, which may require minor
variations in liturgy, place, and time, were to be determined by the local church
leaders.
62. In Geneva those who were admitted to the Lord’s Supper came forward to be served the Bread
and the Wine while standing before the Table; they did not kneel. For a detailed analysis of the varied
practices of receiving the Lord’s Supper in Reformed and Presbyterian churches, see: Benjamin B.
Warfield, “The Posture of the Recipients at the Lord’s Supper” in Benjamin B. Warfield: Selected
Shorter Writings, ed. John E. Meeter (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 1973), Vol. 2, 353–356).
63. John Calvin, The Necessity of Reforming the Church (Reprint, Dallas, TX: Protestant Heritage
Press, 1995).
64. Ibid., 17.
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We find him therefore often directing his ministry towards the individual with
a special concern to give pastoral and personal care and guidance where there
was a perplexity of heart, doubt, or spiritual darkness. As Thurneysen has
pointed out: the Reformation itself was a pastoral care movement growing
directly out of care for the salvation of the soul. His theological writing
was often pastoral in its aim. The pages of the Institutes are studded with
sentences and even paragraphs written to help the struggling soul. He says
in the preface to the book that initially he “toiled” at the task of writing it,
“chiefly for the sake of my countrymen, the French, multitudes of whom I
perceived to be hungering and thirsting after Christ. His writing is sometimes
entirely pastoral in its direction and motive.”65
Calvin was extremely busy with all of the details of pastoral ministry, and he was not
solely given to study and theological writing. He was concerned to meet people in
the midst of their afflictions and to minister to their most pressing needs as disciples
of Jesus Christ.
65. Ronald Wallace, Calvin, Geneva, and the Reformation: A Study of Calvin as Social Worker,
Churchman, Pastor and Theologian (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1988; Edinburgh: Scottish Academic
Press, 1990), 169.
66. T. H. L. Parker, Portrait of Calvin (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1954), 81.
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Thus, the primary text and handbook for all godly counsel was from the Bible alone.
Calvin did not advocate an authoritarian, cold, and sterile approach to counseling.
He was truly concerned with the “care of souls.” This type of individualized pastoral
care was introduced to Calvin by Martin Bucer during his brief ministry in Strasbourg
(1538–1541).
Bucer, the older and more experienced pastor, discipled the younger man in
pastoral theology and during this time he published a book entitled, Concerning the
True Care of Souls (1538).68 Calvin clearly followed Bucer’s example when he wrote
his Commentary on Acts 20:20:
For Christ hath not appointed pastors upon this condition, that they may only
teach the Church in general in the open pulpit; but that they may take charge
of every particular sheep, that they bring back to the sheepfold those who
wander and go astray, that they may strengthen those which are discouraged
and weak, that they may cure the sick, that they may lift up and set on foot the
feeble, (Ezekiel 34:4) for common doctrine will oftentimes wax cold, unless
it be holpen (helped) with private admonitions.69
This meant that pastoral counseling was not to be based only upon personal experience,
but on a thoroughly comprehensive knowledge of the Bible. In this way, the counsel
that was given was capable of addressing every area of human concern—whether it
was the need for assurance, overcoming personal anxiety, dealing with covetousness,
fear of death, despair, irrational fears, a struggle with lust, pride, sorrow, or excessive
67. Institutes, 4:8:9.
68. Martin Bucer, Concerning the True Care of Souls, Peter Beale trans. (Reprint, Edinburgh: The
Banner of Truth Trust, 2009).
69. John Calvin, Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, trans. Henry Beveridge, vol. 2 (Edin-
burgh: Calvin Translation Society, 1855; Grand Rapids: Baker, reprint, 1998), 244.
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worry. Calvin firmly believed that the Bible, either by prooftext or by principle, was
sufficient to minister to every human need.
With these words we see an open window into the heart of Calvin. And surprisingly,
for some skeptics, it reveals a heart that is warm and tender towards those who suffer
through the many trials of life, rather than one which is cold and hard. It is the heart
of a true shepherd and pastor to his people. In this way, Calvin compassionately
exercised the “care of souls.”
70. John Calvin, Letters of John Calvin (Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1980).
71. Calvin, Selected Works of John Calvin: Tracts and Letters, vol. 4, ed. Jules Bonnet, 246–253.
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Calvin, himself, gave this kind of pastoral care over the years of his ministry to many
condemned criminals. He made particular efforts to preach the gospel of grace to
Michael Servetus, a most difficult and hardened heretic, before his execution in
1553. But after several visits in his cell, he failed in making any notable inroads with
Servetus. Since Calvin had been involved in the trial, arrangements were made so that
William Farel could travel to Geneva and ride in the cart with Servetus to his death
on October 27, 1553.75
In this way, Calvin was not put into the awkward situation of being accused
of gloating over Servetus’ death. This action, however complicated it may be,
demonstrates that Calvin was sensitive to the spiritual needs of those who were
facing great peril. He not only sought to alter the means of Servetus’ death to a more
humane method, but he also gave every opportunity for Servetus to repent and place
his faith in the eternal Son of God. Despite Calvin’s well-meaning efforts, Servetus
persisted in his theological errors to the very end and he never repented.76
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that the minister visit those who were very ill within the time of “three full days.”77
Calvin writes:
Because many are negligent to console themselves in God with His Word
when they find themselves in necessity through illness, and consequently
many die without any admonition or teaching, which is then more than ever
salutary for man, for this reason we have decided and ordered that no one is
to remain three full days confined to bed without being that the minister is
notified, and that when any wish the minister to come, they shall take care
to call him at a convenient hour, so as not to distract him from that office
in which he and colleagues serve the Church in common. It is to remove all
excuses that we have resolved on this course, and especially we enjoin that
relations, friends, and guardians are not to wait until the man is at the point of
death, since in this extremity consolations are for the most part of little avail.78
During the course of his pastoral duties he regularly visited the sick throughout the
city. The plague of 1543, however, put his resolve to the test.
Besides the fear of contracting the disease himself through these visits, his
family was harassed by his enemies—they smeared human detritus from those who
had died in the plague on the doorknobs of his home! In essence, they sought to
infect his entire household with the plague.79 But what his enemies intended for evil,
God turned to good. When it was discovered what his adversaries had done, rather
than making Calvin shrink back in horror it strengthened his resolve to persevere
in his pastoral care, to continue improving the established hospitals, and to set up
additional clinics that would minister to the sick, to orphans and widows, the poor,
and refugees.
In regard to the hospitals, his plan for staffing and structuring them primarily
involved the work of the church deacons.80 This effort was designed to be a ministry of
mercy and compassion run by the church, rather than a secular bureaucracy overseen
by the authorities of the city. Now, that there was a compelling need, Calvin labored
with the deacons to make it all come to pass. This is a fine example of Calvin’s
resolute leadership; he was determined to accomplish his goals and to persevere
against all odds until they were met.
The New Testament records that when the Apostle Paul was in Ephesus he
busied himself by not only “teaching...in public” but also going “from house to
house.”81 This same pattern of family visitation was regularly performed at Geneva,
77. “Ecclesiastical Ordinances” in The Register of the Company of Pastors, 43–44, 46.
78. Ibid., 46.
79. William C. Innes, Social Concern in Calvin’s Geneva (Allison Park, PA: Pickwick Publica-
tions, 1983), 134–135.
80. “Ecclesiastical Ordinances” in The Register of the Company of Pastors, 43–44.
81. cf. Acts 20:20.
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and it has come down through the centuries as a distinct practice of Reformed and
Presbyterian pastors and elders. Charles Bridges notes:
Calvin often lays down the Scriptural obligation to this work, and reports the
fruitful harvests reaped at Geneva, when the ministers and elders went from
house to house, and dealt closely and individually with the consciences of the
people.82
Besides visiting in homes, the visitation of the rural churches by the leading pastors
of Geneva was also strongly encouraged. In 1548 Calvin and several other ministers
were chastened by their brethren for failing to carry out this duty in a timely manner.
The rebuke was recorded in The Register of the Company of Pastors and it was, no
doubt, a source of some embarrassment to Calvin and the others.84 Within a short time,
though, new efforts were made and the assignment was brought to its completion.85
Conclusion
What was the overall impact of Calvin’s ministry; and did it bear good fruit? Wallace
suggests a much wider achievement occurred for Calvin’s shepherding ministry than
just within the walls of Geneva. Wallace asserts an influence with international scope
that continues to this very day through the legacy of Calvin’s pastoral method and the
prominence of his city. He perceptively writes:
Calvin’s influence in the sixteenth century however was due not only to his
writing, counsel and teaching but also to what Geneva itself became under
his influence. The perplexed pastor of today finds much of what is written
by experts, and given as advice even at heart-warming church conferences,
does not really fit into his own actual situation in the parish ministry. Calvin,
however, instead of writing a “Utopia”, actually produced it in Geneva. He
82. Charles Bridges, The Christian Ministry (Originally published 1830; reprint, Edinburgh: The
Banner of Truth Trust, 1959), 348.
83. Wallace, Calvin, Geneva, and the Reformation, 173.
84. Hughes ed., The Register of the Company of Pastors, 82–83; see the entry for January 11,
1548.
85. Ibid., 83–84.
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translated his ideas into ecclesiastical and even political institutions. He
influenced the kind of individual people could meet as they went about the
city. Geneva itself therefore became a fact of great importance. It attracted
people. They sent their children so that they could come under the influence
of the place. They came to believe it was possible for them to have something
like it where they themselves lived and worked.86
In this way, Calvin’s influence as pastor and shepherd to the church of Jesus
Christ emerges. He demonstrated this legacy in three ways: first, by a city that was
transformed by the gospel and that served as a beacon of righteousness for many
centuries; second, by a church which established patterns for ministry that are still
being imitated by churches today; and third, by a worldwide institution that became
known in time as the Reformed church. Indeed, John Calvin was a faithful and
successful pastor. His closest associate and personal successor, Theodore Beza, gives
a fitting tribute to Calvin’s life with these stirring words:
Having been a spectator of his conduct for sixteen years, I have given a
faithful account both of his life and of his death, and I now declare, that in
him all men may see a most beautiful example of the Christian character, an
example which it is as easy to slander as it is difficult to imitate.87
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Mark’s is thus a Gospel that contains both the harbinger of judgment and the
new exodus. Both of these themes come to a climax in the temple incident with its
combined allusions to Isaiah 56:7 and Jeremiah 7:11. God intended for his temple to
be a house of prayer for all nations but the Jewish leaders have turned it into a den of
robbers. Less obvious but no doubt relevant is the conceptual allusion to Zechariah
14:21 in which in the eschatological restoration “there shall no longer be traders in
the house of the Lord of hosts on that day.”
Proceeding through Mark in this fashion fits a Gospel that repeatedly depicts
hidden things that are being revealed (4:22). That Mark highlights a Jesus who calls
himself Son of man and whom others envision as Messiah and Son of God is well
known but it is only rarely observed that “Mark actually depicts the man Jesus as
the embodied presence of the God of Israel” (p. 46; italics his). But the Lord of
Mark 1:2–3 whose coming Jesus enacts is Yahweh, God of Israel. He is the one who
alone forgive sins (2:1–12), who makes wind and waves obey him (4:35–41), who is
Israel’s shepherd (6:34), who walks on the sea (vv. 45–52), who makes the deaf hear
and the mute speak (7:31–37). Every one of these roles is a role of the Lord God in
Scripture, not of a separate, albeit messianic individual. The Passion Narrative draws
repeatedly on Psalm 22 so that even in his cry of dereliction (Mark 15:34; Psa. 22:1),
the context of the entire Psalm with its triumphal second half (vv. 19–31) must also be
in view. God will deliver his people, with their messiah, even if the original ending of
Mark only reiterates that promise without explicitly narrating its fulfillment.
Matthew’s Gospel makes plain what often remains obscure in Mark. Jesus’ entire
ministry fulfills Torah (Matt. 5:17). Both typologically and predictively, passage after
passage of the Hebrew Scriptures finds its fullest meaning in details from Christ’s
life. Where Israel had failed, Jesus succeeds, nowhere more dramatically than in
the temptations in the wilderness (4:1–11). But he is not concerned “with literal
performance of all of the law’s commandments” but with “a particular hermeneutical
construal of Torah” (p. 122; italics his). The Prophets take privilege over the legal
material. Jesus as “Emmanuel” (God with us) creates an inclusio around the Gospel
(1:23; 28:20) and occupies a central role as well (18:20). Jesus is a new Moses but he
is greater than Moses. He is a new Wisdom but he is greater than Wisdom. More so
than in the other Gospels, in Matthew people worship Jesus precisely because he is
the embodiment of Israel’s God. What begins with Jesus acting like a conventionally
nationalistic Messiah (10:5–6; 15:24) culminates with him as the Messiah for all
people groups (28:19), precisely because that is the eschatological vision of the
Writing Prophets, especially in Isaiah 40–66.
The Gospel of Luke characterizes its contents in its opening verse as “the things
that have been brought to fulfillment (πεπληροφορημένων) among us” (p. 192, italics
his). The entire Gospel unfolds as the completion of the story the OT left incomplete.
Older Lukan redaction criticism often missed the liberationist strands of this work,
largely because they failed to see the programmatic significance of the birth narratives
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(Luke 1–2) for Luke’s theology. The end of the Gospel signals the reader that the story
has just begun as repentance and forgiveness must be proclaimed in Jesus’ name to
all the nations starting in Jerusalem (24:46–47). Then, what Anna foresaw about the
redemption of Jerusalem (2:36–38), itself based on Isaiah 52:9, will incorporate what
the next verse of Isaiah likewise foretold: “and all the ends of the earth shall see the
salvation of our God” (v. 10). One is not surprised, then, to go back and read Luke
4:16–30 and see Jesus simultaneously announcing the “fulfillment of the Isaianic
hope of national restoration” and a challenge to the “conventional conceptions of
national privilege” (p. 230). Many of the categories of Jesus that permeate the other
Gospels reappear in Luke—Jesus as Messiah, Son of David, Son of God, Lord,
prophet like Moses—but a distinctive emphasis on the prophet both like and unlike
Elijah and Elisha gets added to the mix. Less often observed is how Jesus’ divine
identity is likewise highlighted in Luke. For example in 13:34a, he depicts Jesus as
wanting to shelter Jerusalem under his wings like a mother hen does her chicks (cf.
God’s care for Israel in Deut. 32:10–12 likened to a mother eagle caring for her young
and covering them with her wings). In each case, too, only rebellion ensued (Deut.
32:15–18; Luke 13:34b-35).
As Luke progresses into Acts, the theme of God’s people confronting empire
comes more to the fore, though there are hints already in Luke. Indeed, Acts needs
to be taken into account for all of Luke’s themes but that goes beyond Hays’ purview,
except for glimpses here and there. Overall, Hays discerns seven themes of the
intertextual narratives in Luke’s two volumes: continuity with the story of Israel,
God’s faithfulness to his covenant promises and his grace in his liberating power, the
realistic recognition of the need for suffering for God’s people, God’s concern for the
helpless and poor, his extension of the good news to all the peoples of the earth, and
the countercultural position God’s people find themselves in with respect to earthly
powers. Finally, Luke’s readers gradually but increasingly perceive “the unity of
identity” between “the Lord” as Yahweh, God of Israel and “the Lord” as Jesus.
John’s is the Gospel that most directly confronts readers with Jesus’ divine
claims. It also does not have direct quotations of Scripture quite as frequently as
the other Gospels do. As a result, readers do not always realize how permeated it is
by the OT. John 5:39–40 and 45–47 nevertheless call to mind Luke 24:27 with its
Christological hermeneutic for interpreting the sacred texts. Mark has his mysteries,
Matthew his explicit fulfillments, and Luke his more subtle allusions, but John is the
master of the luminous image. Nowhere is this clearer than in his portrayal of Jesus as
the fulfillment of each of the major festivals of Judaism. His comments to the woman
at the well in Samaria prefigure this emphasis (John 4:21). Soon it will not matter
where one worship because Jesus is the locus of God’s revelation and the object
of one’s worship. At the same time, John is no supersessionist. Even his sweeping
statements about “the Jews” should each be understood contextually. Never does
he indict the entire nation because all of Jesus’ first followers were also Jews. Many
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times hoi Ioudaioi is shorthand for the Judean religious leaders who represented
Israel and most opposed Jesus. The story of Jesus’ crucifixion is simultaneously “a
glorious exaltation to power (Dan 7) and a painful vicarious suffering for the sins of
others (Num 21:4–9 + Isa 52:13—53:12)” (p. 335).
In his conclusion Hays’ summarizes the approach of each Gospel. Mark figures
the mystery of God’s kingdom, Matthew presents Torah transfigured, Luke offers
Israel’s redemption story and John refigures Israel’s worship and temple. But how is
this legitimate? Only if “the God to whom the Gospels bear witness, the God incarnate
in Jesus, is the same as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” If that is true, “then
the figural literary unity of Scripture, Old Testament and New Testament together, is
nothing other than the climactic fruition of that one God’s self-revelation” (p. 365).
With so many alleged echoes of OT texts, every reader is bound to demur at
some point. Is Jesus calling his first disciples to be fishers of people a deliberate
reversal of God’s judgment of the wealthy women in Amos 4:2 being carried off with
fishhooks? Do the Synoptics really not allude to the Suffering Servant text of Isaiah
52:13–53:12 to add that portrait to their mosaic of Christological images? Isn’t the
primary point of Matthew’s inclusion of five women in his genealogy their suspicion
of sexual impropriety rather than the (probable) Gentile background of only four
of them? No matter how distinctive, can the attitude of Matthew’s Jesus to Torah
really be referred to just as halakah? Did Matthew really have fewer OT allusions
in his passion narrative simply because he wants readers to figure out connections
for themselves? For that matter, does he really have that many fewer allusions? Is
Luke quite so anti-empire as Hays thinks, when it is Rome who consistently rescues
the first Christians when various Jewish leaders would destroy them throughout the
book of Acts? Must John 19:36 “certainly” (p. 317) allude to not breaking the bones
of the Passover lamb when it is already adequately accounted for by the more obvious
quotation of Psalm 34:19–20? Don’t weak arguments “strain” credibility rather than
“credulity” (p. 299), since credulity means gullibility?
These questions, however, arise only rarely, compared with page after page
of treasures of exegetical insight into the use of the OT in the NT. Hays promises
the reader an examination of the Evangelists’ hermeneutics and delivers so much
more—the veritable foundation, outline and central details for a biblical theology of
the Gospels. We are so grateful that Hays lived to complete this project, and we pray
that he may still have many years for fruitful scholarship and ministry.
Craig L. Blomberg
Denver Seminary
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for destruction in order to be fully glorified. But here a number of Reformed thinkers
have objected. While all might agree that he can display his wrath, it is another thing
altogether to say he must. Surely God could choose to forgive all if he so chose, and
not ordain any to destruction. Karl Barth famously reframed the doctrine of election
in light of this consideration.
The next chapter takes up the vexed issue of free will and salvation, a major point
of contention between Calvinists and their critics. Given their view of sovereignty,
irresistible grace and unconditional election, it is usually thought that Calvinists
must embrace some version of compatibilism. Crisp shows that some Reformed
thinkers dissent from this, citing the example of John Girardeau, who contended that
human beings sometimes have the “power of contrary choice” with respect to some
significant decisions. These choices, however, do not pertain to salvation, but only
to more mundane matters.. While Crisp thinks Girardeau’s position is confused or
not fully developed, “it does show that not all Reformed thinkers have been of one
mind on the matter of theological determinism” (p. 79). The following two chapters
take up the issues of universalism and the nature of atonement. While Calvinists
have typically rejected universalism, Crisp contends that Calvinists may at least hope
for the salvation of all. He also points out that some classic Reformed thinkers like
Warfield and Shedd held that the majority of humanity will actually be saved, in
contrast to the popular notion that Calvinism teaches that the elect will comprise
only a small remnant of fallen humanity. In his discussion of the cross, he challenges
the notion that the penal substitution theory of the atonement is the Reformed view.
While that theory has undeniably been enormously popular among Calvinists, it is
hardly the only view espoused by Reformed theologians, and Crisp demonstrates
that a number of other theories have been defended within the tradition.
On all these points, Crisp successfully shows that the Reformed tradition is more
diverse, or in some cases nuanced, than the popular Calvinism zealously promoted
by its young and restless proponents. Scored on these terms, this book is completely
successful, and represents a valuable contribution that should be enthusiastically
recommended to all those Calvinists who suffer from the kind of “theological
amnesia” Crisp diagnosed. The question remains, however, whether recognizing and
embracing the diversity in the Reformed tradition can save Calvinism.
This brings us to Crisp’s final chapter, which I want to look at a bit more closely.
Here he deals with the contentious issue of the extent of the atonement. The “L” in
the famous Tulip, of course, stands for “limited atonement,” which is the doctrine that
Christ died only for the elect, so that they, and they alone, are the only ones who can
possibly be saved. Over against this, Crisp shows that a number of Reformed thinkers
espouse what he calls “hypothetical universalism,” which rejects the claim that Christ
atoned only for the elect. The crucial claim here is “that the atonement has the power
to save all, and all who have faith will be saved as a consequence” (p. 135). Or to put
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it in more traditional language, the atonement is sufficient for all, but efficient only
for those who have faith.
Now this raises a crucial question: who is able to exercise faith? Are all those for
whom Christ died given grace that makes it possible for them to do so, and whether
or not they do so is up to them? Or is the gift of faith given only to those who are the
unconditionally elect, and they, and they alone, are able to have faith? On this point,
Crisp seems to equivocate.
Consider the example he uses to illustrate the difference between sufficiency
and efficiency. A medical team arrives on an island with enough, indeed more than
enough, of a vaccine to protect them from a deadly disease. All are invited to receive
it as a free gift, but they must “choose to be vaccinated, coming to submit themselves
for vaccination.…It is efficient or efficacious only for those who make this choice” (p.
136). Now this example seems amenable to both understandings of who can exercise
faith mentioned in the previous paragraph.
Compare what Crisp says in his earlier chapter on free will and salvation when
he is explaining Girardeau’s view of decisions in which we do not have the “power of
contrary choice”: “There are those brought about by divine grace, enabling us to do
them—supremely, in the case of salvation. These spiritual choices, as he calls them,
are not actions that are free in the relevant sense because we cannot choose to do
them without God’s enabling” (pp. 77–78). Notice particularly here that Crisp speaks
of these choices as being “brought about by God,” and also as being made possible
by “God’s enabling.” Now the idea that a choice is brought about by God suggests
that that choice is caused or determined by God. However, the idea of God’s enabling
a choice suggests that God empowers the choice, and makes it possible, but does not
determine it. The fact that one is able to do something does not entail that he will in
fact do it.
When read in terms of enablement, Crisp’s example resonates deeply with an
Arminian rather than a Calvinist view of soteriology. Crisp insists, however, that
hypothetical universalism is truly a Reformed view, and he distinguishes it from
Arminianism (p. 148).
He shores this claim up by pointing out that hypothetical universalism holds that
“only the elect are given the gift of faith in order to obtain the benefits of Christ’s
saving work” (p. 139). If faith is “given,” this suggests that God causes it or brings
it about in the elect in a more determinate fashion than merely by “enabling” it. But
if this is true, it raises an obvious question: What is the point of insisting that the
atonement is sufficient for all if the non-elect are utterly powerless to avail themselves
of its benefits? If only the elect are given the gift of faith, those who are not elect are
no better off than they would be if Christ had not died for them at all. So if this is true,
the glaring question that remains unanswered is, why does not God give everyone the
gift of faith if he can bring it about in anyone he chooses?
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Crisp is very much aware of the problems for Calvinism posed by this question,
but he points out that it is true for any version of Calvinism, not just hypothetical
universalism. As he does elsewhere in the book, Crisp appeals to mystery and the
“secret will of God.” He also reminds us that we can hope for universal salvation, or
at least for the salvation of the large majority of humanity so that “the sufficiency of
the work of Christ matches (or almost matches) its efficiency” (p. 141).
Still, the possibility, if not the actuality, of any gap between the sufficiency of
the work of Christ and its efficiency requires a satisfactory explanation if we are to
maintain a substantive account of the perfect goodness and love of God. There is
such an explanation if any who fail to have faith do so because they freely refuse to
submit to the vaccination that will save them even though they truly could submit
because of God’s enabling grace. This, of course, is the Arminian reading of Crisp’s
example, cited above.
In short, if Calvinism holds that God could give all persons saving faith, but may
choose not to do so, Calvinism represents a view of God that is not worth saving. But
if Calvinists want to maintain a view of God’s love and goodness that is worth saving,
perhaps the most straightforward way to save Calvinism is simply by embracing
Arminianism. Arminius, after all, was a part of the Reformed tradition, too.
Jerry L. Walls
Houston Baptist University
Gentry, Peter. How to Read & Understand the Biblical Prophets. Wheaton,
IL: Crossway, 2017, 141 pp., $17.99, paperback.
The prophetic books of the Old Testament are often neglected or misinterpreted by
the typical Christian due to the difficulty to understand them. Peter Gentry has written
this short primer—How to Read & Understand the Biblical Prophets—to equip the
average Christian with a better understanding of how Hebrew prophetic literature
works and, thus, how the biblical prophets ought to be read and interpreted. Gentry
is professor of Old Testament at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, the
coauthor of Kingdom through Covenant, author of many articles, and the director of
the Hexapla Institute.
Through seven chapters, Gentry explains various aspects of the prophetic
genre illustrated throughout with examples from the biblical prophets. In the first
chapter, Gentry argues that the bulk of the content of the prophets has little to do with
predicting the future but, rather, is concerned with calling the people of God back
to the covenant of God—primarily using the language of the book of Deuteronomy
(p. 30). Chapter two, then, surveys the genuine predictive statements of the prophets.
Gentry shows that even these predictions of coming judgement and future restoration
are still based on the Sinai covenant, for covenant violation leads to judgment (p.
40). He also explains that an important purpose of the prophetic predictions is that
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they allow for God himself to interpret the coming exile (p. 37) and restoration. For
example, the restoration will involve a physical return and a spiritual return from
exile (p. 39).
Chapter three surveys the form of the prophetic message, in which Gentry
describes the literary function of repetition in Hebrew literature (p. 44), word pairs
(e.g. ḥesed and ‘ĕmet, 46), and chiasms (p. 47). He then illustrates how this recursive
nature of Hebrew literature functions also at the macro level by showing that the
literary structure of the book of Isaiah reveals that Isaiah tells the same message—
the transformation of Zion—seven times from different angles (pp. 51–55). Gentry,
in chapter four, argues that the Oracles against the Nations, have their genesis in the
Song of Moses in Deuteronomy 32 (p. 60) and that hope is extended to these nations
to find their salvation within Zion (p. 65).
The final three chapters each look at different ways the prophets describe the
future. Chapter five examines the prophetic use of typology to depict a New Exodus.
Gentry defines typology as that which meets four criteria: (i) correspondence between
people, places, etc., (p. 2) escalation from type to antitype, (iii) biblical warrant, and
(iv) development of type coinciding with the progression of the biblical covenants
(pp. 90–91). Chapter six tackles the apocalyptic, understanding it as both a genre
and a literary type found within other genres (p. 101). Chapter seven describes the
so-called “already-not-yet” as unveiled by the New Testament authors’ use of the Old
Testament. The book then concludes with a brief appendix on the book of Revelation.
It appears to be a central concern of Gentry to disprove the wide-spread purported
“literal” reading of the prophets and to provide an alternative reading method. In the
chapter on typology he “bluntly” addresses the issue of alleged literal interpretation
(p. 85) and in the conclusion to the book writes:
The debate between literal interpretation and spiritual interpretation is entirely
bogus. When the Reformers talked about the “literal sense” of the text, they
meant the meaning intended by the author according to the rules of the genre
of literature being used to communicate the message. (p. 124, italics original)
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Many significant insights from Gentry’s years of studying the Hebrew literature
and the prophets are peppered throughout the book. Some such insights significantly
impact other critical issues on the prophets but were not further developed in the book.
For example, Gentry argues that repetition is “how a single author communicates” in
Hebrew (p. 44), thus critiquing those who would argue repetitions evidence different
sources. Similarly, Gentry argues that prophets predicted the near future and the
distant future so that when their near-future prophecies came true the prophet would
be validated (Deut 18) regarding his distant-future prophecies (pp. 34, 74). This
understanding of Hebrew literature implicitly challenges those who would argue that
distant prophecies were in fact later additions, vaticinium ex eventu. Granted, it was
not the intent of the book to address critical issues, but the aware reader will benefit
from these perceptive statements recognizing their larger implications than those
explicitly mentioned in the book.
The average Christian may at times find themselves struggling with the amount
of technical terms within the book. When Gentry introduces a term, like hendiadys,
he does provide a definition (e.g. p. 22) but, since the book is short and contains a
number of potentially new concepts, the uninitiated may feel disoriented. This is not
so much a critique of the book, but a disclaimer for the novice interpreter combined
with a call to press on, labor hard, and develop the important skill of interpreting
God’s Word by learning from a master builder like Gentry.
One sad omission, however, is any extensive explanation from Gentry on how to
discern the literary structure of a passage or a book. It is not as if literary structures
are not important to Gentry, quite the opposite. He claims the “literary structure is the
key to correct interpretation” (28) and “teaching must be more than communicating
the content of the text; we must explain the form and show how this carries the
meaning” (p. 106), and he provides numerous literary structures of texts throughout
the book (e.g. pp. 20, 52, 56, 61, 66–69, 72–74, 79–80, 86, 95, 106). Yet the closest
the book comes to a detailed explanation on how to derive the literary structure of
a text is the mention of the methodology of M. P. O’Connor for Hebrew poetry and
also discourse grammar, methods not for the beginner (p. 60). Yet, the ardent reader
may be able to pick up clues from the literary structures provided by Gentry to begin
determining literary structures on their own.
How to Read & Understand the Biblical Prophets is essentially a book on the
nature of Hebrew literature and the appropriate hermeneutical tools required for
accurately interpreting the prophets. It is written at a popular level to instruct the
beginner while also offering correction for the seasoned interpreter. It fills an important
gap in the literature since most hermeneutical or Hebrew literature textbooks are too
complex for the common reader, and most books on the prophets cover only the
content of the prophets rather than how to read them (though see Chalmers recent
work Interpreting the Prophets which has a similar goal to Gentry, yet both have
different emphases and complement each other). This book is recommended as an
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excellent, thoroughly biblical, erudite, yet down-to-earth and practical handbook for
all those wanting to learn how to properly read the biblical prophets.
Jonathan Atkinson
Immanuel Baptist Church, KY
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One chapter in particular serves as an example of Senn’s format throughout.
Chapter 7 on “The Church Year: Holy Week,” covers not only the historical
development of Easter and the days leading up to it, but also church customs closely
connected to each day of Holy Week, including their rise and, in some cases,
restoration in Christian worship. Senn uses a primary source, the travel diary of
Egeria, a Spanish nun from the fourth century, to give the reader a glimpse into the
rites and observances of Holy Week as celebrated in Jerusalem at the time. From
there, and moving forward in time, he summarizes the origin and development
of practices such as the washing of feet and stripping of the altar during Maundy
Thursday, the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil on Holy
Saturday (strangely absent, however, is any discussion of the role of Monday,
Tuesday, and Wednesday in Holy Week). Concluding the chapter, Senn recognizes
that fourth-century Jerusalem and the twenty-first century reader are far removed in
time and experience from each other, and that ancient rites may require adaptation to
contemporary styles of celebration.
Adaptation, or what to do with twenty centuries of Christian worship, is a
lingering question in Senn’s book. In the Afterword, Senn notes his original intent
to conclude with a bibliography of current denominational worship books, but he
abandoned the idea after questioning which traditions, languages, and specific
books to include. Some traditions do not provide books for worshipers, while “those
who offer contemporary services buy music for the worship team but words are
projected on screens for the worshipers” (p. 211). Moreover, the rapid changes in
communication over the last hundred years, from the invention of the mimeograph
to the incorporation of high tech graphics, have exerted a profound influence on
how churches worship; while an awareness of the global nature of the church means
that congregations are acquiring a more cross-cultural character (pp. 37–38). The
intersection of modernity, technology, and culture in the landscape of Christian
worship will require a sequel to Senn’s introductory volume.
Like Karl Barth discovering “the strange new world of the Bible,” readers
from less liturgical or non-liturgical churches encountering the vast and rich history
of Christian worship for the first time through Introduction to Christian Liturgy,
may find themselves in a strange new world of worship, but one worth discovering,
engaging, and retrieving. Even though Senn confesses his experience with non-
liturgical worshiping traditions is limited (as is his coverage of them), readers and
leaders from more contemporary music-driven worship settings may still find in his
work a resource for the renewal of both the theology and praxis of worship within
their congregations. For students and readers already familiar with liturgical worship,
who want to go deeper into the origins of their own and other worshiping traditions,
Senn’s work will whet their appetites for more; his suggestions for further reading
at the end of each chapter provide options for going even deeper into the history and
development of specific worship practices.
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Intended as a “pastoral liturgical handbook,” Senn defines pastoral liturgy as
“the study and application of liturgy in the actual life of the church” (p. 1). In other
words, Introduction to Christian Liturgy is not only a textbook, but also a resource
for pastoral leadership and for discerning readers seeking to broaden their grasp of
the history of Christian worship. Outside formal academic courses, pastors might
consider using the book in a lay study group over the course of several weeks to
strengthen the foundations of worship in their congregations.
Brian Turnbow
Fuller Seminary Texas, Houston, TX
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prior to Book V Yahweh appears to have forgotten his covenant with David, “but his
covenant loyalty ( ) חסדis eternal ( ) עולם, so there is reason for hope” (p. 98).
Turning to Book V, Snearly argues that it is divided into four psalm groupings. He
contends that each grouping is arranged around a key-word that plays an important
role in Pss 1–2 and 89, each of which is related to the royal Davidic hope: חסדand
( עולםPss 107–118/ Ps 89); ( תורהPs 119/ Pss 1–2); ( ציוןPss 120–137/ Pss 1–2); ( מלךPss
138–145/ Pss 1–2). According to Snearly, the significance of this arrangement is that
“Book V reaffirms the importance of the Davidic figure in the Psalter” (p. 100), which
signals a renewed hope in the royal/ Davidic promises.
The dominant theme of Pss 107–118 is Yahweh’s eternal covenant loyalty. Either
חסדor עולםoccurs in “every palm of this corpus, and, moreover, they are integral to the
interpretation of each psalm” (p. 120). An inclusion that includes this dominant theme
even brackets the unit (Pss 107:1; 118:29) (p. 110). The importance of חסדand עולםin Pss
107–118 suggests that this group functions as a response to Ps 89, affirming the Davidic
hope that concludes that psalm. The Davidic cluster in this section, Pss 108–110, sends
the message that “David is back!” (p. 127).
Snearly notes that Pss 119 is “a crux criticorum within macrostructure of Book V”
(p. 133). Given that the psalm’s dominant theme (i.e., Torah) is unique to Pss 119 in
Book V, he contends that Ps 119 acts “as its own macrostructural unit within Book V”
(p. 137). This “psalm group” contributes to the Psalter’s storyline, argues Snearly, by
recalling and bearing witness to the reemergence of the exemplary Torah-meditating
ruler of Pss 1–2 (pp. 137, 139).
The next psalm group consists of the Songs of Ascents (Pss 120–134) and Pss
135–137. The group’s cohesiveness is demonstrated especially by five key-word links
that bind it together ( שיר, ציון, ירושלם, ישראל, and ) מעלה, features that occur far less
frequently elsewhere in Book V (pp. 145–147). Further evidence that Pss 135–137
should be incorporated in this group is that, when included, the group is “bookended
by similar psalms…written from the perspective of exile” (Pss 120 and 137) (p. 147).
The significance of this group lies particularly in its emphasis on Zion (pp. 150–151).
Observing the connection between David and Zion in the important Ps 132, Snearly
argues that the message arising from this third group is that Yahweh has “not abandoned
Zion or his king,” the program outlined in Pss 1–2 (p. 153).
The primary link binding Pss 138–145 together is the shared author designation
לדוד. There are also a number of parallels with Book III and Pss 1–2 (particularly
in Pss 144 and 145) that create cohesion within this group (pp. 160–167). The latter
parallels are particularly significant since they show that “the end of the Psalter mirrors
the beginning” (p. 168). The Psalter begins and ends with a focus upon Yahweh’s
establishment of his anointed over his earthly kingdom (p. 169).
Psalms 144–145 serve as a conclusion to Book V, while Pss 146–150 function
as a conclusion to the Psalter as a whole (p. 184). Snearly argues that the latter group
fittingly concludes the Psalter because of verbal and thematic correspondences with its
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introduction (Pss 1–2) (pp. 178–181). The purpose of this “final hallel” is to conclude
the Psalter in a climax of praise grounded in the storyline of the Psalter, with its focus
on Yahweh and his anointed “who form a people in the midst of a hostile world and
extend their kingdom over unruly nations” (p. 181).
The Return of the King provides a great service to the disciple of editorial
criticism as it pertains to the Psalter. Perhaps its greatest contribution lies in the area of
methodology. Snearly’s rigorous defense, development, and application of the method
is sorely needed given the skepticism that still surrounds it in Psalms studies. I suspect
that Snearly will make not a few new converts to the method with this offering. While
certainly a scholarly work, this book would serve as an excellent introduction for any
student or pastor who is new to the method and looking for an exemplary model of how
it should be properly applied. If the book has a weakness, it is (at least from the present
reviewer’s perspective) the argument that the Psalter exhibits an intentionally crafted
“storyline.” A whole host of questions related to the Psalter’s “shaping” would need to
be addressed before such a claim could be convincingly made. Further, the claim would
need to be based upon more than three, albeit significant, “seam” psalms (1–2 and 89).
However, overall, Snearly’s impressive work is an important and welcome contribution
to Psalms studies.
Stephen J. Smith
The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, KY
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
the ongoing debates concerning the relationship between Israel and the church, which
have continual importance both theologically and politically.
What is most distinctive about Lee’s study is the way in which he explores the
influence of Jewish theologian, Michael Wyschogrod, on the development of Jenson’s
post-supersessionism (p. 9). Along such lines, in chapter one, Lee recounts the early
Jenson’s temporalistic revising of Barth’s actualistic ontology as being the basis upon
which Jenson’s later post-supersessionism finds its ontological motivation (pp. 13–32).
Because election for Jenson is dependent upon the “horizon of time” (e.g., Jenson saw
the event of Christ’s resurrection as electively being constitutive of God’s trinitarian
being), the election of Israel was determinative of God’s eternal being as well (p. 32).
Such a move by Jenson placed a temporal spin upon Barth’s actualistic ontology, which
Lee describes in this manner: “God is the event of (the enactment of) his decision….
God’s triune being is his action.” (p. 18). Following from this, chapter two describes
Jenson’s understanding of Christ’s body as having been “placed in the eternal being of
God,” thus leading to an eternal “bodily” understanding of God that is eucharistically,
ecclesially, and soteriologically accommodative (pp. 10, 33–58, 174). These emphases
find consonance with Wyshogrod’s proposals, as outlined in chapter three (pp. 59–88). A
sympathetic reader of Barth, Wyshogrod’s emphasis upon God’s irrevocable “covenant
relationship to the bodily existence of the people of Israel” results from his engagement
with Christian perspectives on the incarnation and the Torah, and leads Wyshogrod to
see Jewish identity as being a “‘diluted incarnation’ of God’s presence by election” (pp.
61–62, 79). Amidst this, Lee highlights Wyshogrod’s “mutual acknowledgment of the
other community’s distinctive role in God’s one redemptive history” (p. 62). Jenson’s
affirming appropriation of Wyshogrod then forms the content of chapter four, which
concludes that it is only in the church’s anticipated union with Israel in the eschaton that
the two, together, can be considered the people of God and body of Christ (pp. 89–118).
Chapter five continues upon this post-supersessionist theme with respect to Jenson’s
hermeneutical ontology and its parallel stress upon Torah as both narrative and law
(pp. 119–145). Finally, in chapter six, Lee surveys Jenson’s eschatological ontology and
its associated pneumatology, for it is the Spirit who is at work to eschatologically bring
together Jews and gentiles under their one rightful head, Jesus Christ (p. 175, 146–172).
Lee’s argument, structured chiastically in a way that lays stress upon middle
chapters three and four (on Wyshogrod and Jenson’s response to Wyshogrod,
respectively), is on point and, as such, is enthusiastically endorsed by Jenson himself,
who writes that Lee “succeeds handsomely” (back cover). In this regard, Lee’s
demystifying work on the question of how Jenson’s trinitarian ontology is related to
his post-supersessionism can rightly be considered an original as well as much needed
contribution to the field of Jenson studies. That said, because Lee explicitly seeks to
read Jenson more charitably than earlier commentators (p. 9), critical engagement
within Lee’s work has more to do with ensuring that Jenson is properly interpreted
than it does with offering Lee’s own critical evaluation of Jenson’s thought (e.g., p. 176).
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Lee effectively demonstrates that Jenson’s post-supersessionist proposal finds its roots
not only in the early Jenson’s temporal actualistic ontology and corporeal theology, but
most especially in his later engagement with Jewish thinkers like Wyshogrod (p. 61).
That is, a “transposing [of] Wyshogrod’s thought into Christian ecumenical rubrics”
takes place in a way that “Jenson maintains that the church is the people of God, the
body of Christ, and the temple of the Holy Spirit, only in its anticipated union with the
Jewish people which will occur beyond this age” (p. 89). The implication of all of this
is that the church cannot in actuality be the church without Israel, even if its union with
Israel is more of an eschatological rather than a present reality. Supersessionism for
Jenson is thus wholly at odds with the very essence of the Christian faith.
On this point, Lee’s compelling description of Jenson is worthy of constructive
consideration if one grants, as I do, that Jenson’s post-supersessionist account of
Judaism can in fact be seen as being more consonant with the overall New Testament
witness regarding its prescribed relationship between Jews and gentiles in Christ
than its supersessionist alternatives (e.g., it would not be difficult to coherently tease
out a Jensonian post-supersessionistic reading of Rom. 9–11, Eph. 2:11–3:13; cf. pp.
95–99). If so, then Lee is right to suggest that “Jenson’s theology of Judaism offers a
non-supersessionistic understanding of [the] God of Israel in trinitarian terms and of
Christian self-identity, without compromising the Christian faith about the messiahship
and deity of Jesus” (p. 90). Even so, a stumbling block for many will continue to be the
untraditional Jenson’s seemingly panentheistic temporal actualistic ontology through
which God, by the event of the incarnate Christ’s resurrection, is said to not only have
a body, but to also ontologically embody Israel and the church by way of their bodily
theosis in the risen Christ’s body (pp. 90–93). Questions also will arise as to whether the
implications of Jenson’s specific understanding of Israel’s irrevocable election, which
features his view that Judaism and the church are seen as “two paralleling detours to
the Kingdom of God,” with Israel as being the original route around which the church
can only eschatologically find its place, is too idealistic to be truly applicable in the real
world (pp. 102–104, 117–118). On a different note, Lee’s study warrants comparative
studies between Jenson’s post-supersessionist view of Judaism and dispensationalist
views of the same.
Jenson’s recent passing in September 2017 should bring about a welcome renewed
interest in his life and thought. In this regard, advanced students of biblical and
theological studies will find Lee’s book to be an accessible introduction to Jenson and
to certain themes and aspects of modern Protestant theology. More than that, Lee’s
explicit reconstruction of Jenson’s post-supersessionist argument provides a formidable
foray into an important and consequential question that, if Jenson is correct, lies at the
very heart of the gospel.
Clement Yung Wen
School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh
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Meister, Chad and James K. Dew Jr, eds. God and the Problem of Evil:
Five Views. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2017, pp. 196, $25.00.
The Spectrum Multiview book series by InterVaristy Press considers a topic, and
allows experts on the topic to present their views and interact with one another. In
this volume, the question of the nature and existence of God is debated in light of
the existence and nature of evil. Each author is given the chance to set out their own
view. Then at the end of the book, each author has an opportunity to engage, criticize,
and develop their thoughts on the views of the other authors. Personally, I find this
format very useful for going deeper into theological and philosophical issues. Chad
Meister and James Dew have done an excellent job at finding authors that have well-
developed views that are quite distinct from one another. Further, they have selected
authors who have made interesting, and significant contributions to this issue. Readers
who are fairly new to the problem of evil will be well-served by starting with this
volume, and then following up by reading other works by each contributor.
The experts in this volume are as follows: Phillip Cary, William Lane Craig,
William Hasker, Thomas Jay Oord, and Stephen Wykstra. Other than Phillip Cary, I
am quite familiar with the works of the contributors on the problem of evil. Given my
familiarity with the contributors’ previous work, I can offer a particular praiseworthy
feature of this volume. One impressive feature of this volume is that each contributor
has done an excellent job of summarizing their work into a single essay. For example,
William Hasker and Thomas Jay Oord each have previous book-length treatments
of the problem of evil. Yet each author gives a clear and concise statement of their
views. Readers will get an excellent introduction to the thought of each author, and
have a serious launching pad for going deeper into their work.
Before delving deeper into the book, I wish discuss one important caveat.
The title of the book might suggest that there is one problem of evil, but the book
makes it very clear that there is no such thing as the problem of evil. Instead, there
are many different issues related to the nature of God and evil that every Christian
must consider. This is made clear in the introduction of the book as well as in each
contributor’s chapter. Each author clearly lays out what the particular problem of evil
that he wishes to focus on, and then articulates his response accordingly. With that
caveat out of the way, allow me to discuss each contributor’s essay.
Phillip Cary offers what he calls the “Classic View,” which is represented by
such historical figures as Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, and C. S. Lewis. Cary notes
that classical Christian theists have not, historically, asked questions like, ‘If evil
exists, how can God exist?’ Instead, classical Christian thinkers were troubled by
a different question: ‘Since God is perfectly good, how is evil possible?’ According
to Cary, evil exists because God has a good reason for permitting it to exist. This
‘good reason’ is intrinsically connected to a greater good that God will bring out of
the occurrence of that evil. Throughout Cary’s essay, readers will encounter a careful
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and nuanced articulation of Augustinian and Thomistic ideas such as that evil is the
privation of the good, and that it is impossible for God to create creatures who are
incorruptible. One interesting feature of Cary’s view is that God is never “off the
hook” for the existence of evil in the world. For Cary, God can be held responsible
for the existence of evil since God permits every instance of evil. However, Cary
maintains that God cannot be held culpable for evil since God has a good reason for
permitting it.
William Lane Craig presents a “Molinist View,” whereby God possesses
exhaustive foreknowledge of what creatures would do in any possible circumstance
that they might be placed in. Craig makes careful distinctions between different kinds
of intellectual and pastoral problems that a Christian apologist should consider. Some
versions of the problem of evil focus on the alleged internal incoherence of Christian
belief, whilst others present evil as external evidence that the Christian God does not
exist. Craig presents each argument, and explains how Molinism can, or cannot, help
rebut each objection.
William Hasker offers an “Open Theist View.” On open theism, God does not
have exhaustive foreknowledge of the future because the future is open. God does
possess an exhaustive knowledge of what creatures might do, and probably will do,
in the future, and He uses this knowledge to providentially guide creation towards
His intended purposes. Hasker offers an important contribution to this discussion by
making a distinction between two kinds of theodicies: a general-policy theodicy and
a specific-benefit theodicy. On a general-policy theodicy, God’s permission of certain
evils is justified on the basis of God adopting a good general policy for creation.
For example, God might desire to create a universe that is life-sustaining, and that
requires that God create a universe with regular laws of nature. A universe with
orderly laws of nature is a great good, but it does entail the possibility of natural
disasters like hurricanes. In contrast, a specific-benefit theodicy focuses on the
justification for God permitting a particular instance of evil—i.e., whatever specific
greater good that arises from that particular instance of evil. In Hasker’s essay, he
develops a robust general-policy theodicy that is well-worth considering.
Thomas Jay Oord offers what he calls the “Essential Kenosis View.” Oord
does not find most attempts at theodicy satisfying in the least. Theodicies always
leave him thinking, ‘God, you could have prevented this evil from happening.’ In
light of this, Oord develops a theodicy on which God could not have prevented evil
from happening, thus getting God ‘off the hook’ for the existence of evil. On Oord’s
understanding of God, love is God’s primary attribute. God’s love is necessarily self-
giving and uncontrolling. What this means is that God necessarily gives life and
freedom to others, and this is not something that God can revoke. God essentially
and eternally gives freedom, agency, self-organization, and law-like regularity to
creation. It is not possible for God to ever override or revoke these gifts. What this
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means is that God cannot intervene to prevent evil. Instead, God can only call all of
creation to a life of righteousness.
In the final essay, Stephen Wykstra presents a “Skeptical Theist View.” Wyskra
is personally responsible for starting this particular response to the evidential problem
of evil in the 1980s. The evidential problem of evil tries to say that certain instances
of evil give us good evidence for thinking that God does not exist. The Skeptical
Theist response argues that we are not warranted in making an inference from some
particular instance of evil to the conclusion that God does not exist. This essay shows
a great deal of nuance, and would serve as an excellent source in any philosophy of
religion syllabus.
When it is all said and done, God and the Problem of Evil offers a lucid,
emotionally sensitive, and diverse set of essays on the problem of evil. It would serve
well for pastors, students, and small groups who are looking for a place to start their
journey into this issue, or for people who are wishing to go a bit deeper in their
reflection on God and evil.
R. T. Mullins
University of St Andrews
Vance, Donald R., George Athas, Yael Avrahami, and Jonathan G. Kline.
Biblical Aramaic: A Reader & Handbook. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson,
2016, pp. 233, $29.95, hardcover.
Biblical Aramaic: A Reader & Handbook is an excellent addition to the academic
resources on Biblical Aramaic. As the authors relay, Biblical Aramaic is often
neglected in seminary language studies due to the small percentage of the Old
Testament written in Aramaic (ix). However, to fully understand and apply “the
biblical languages,” one must surely include Aramaic in his/her studies. The authors
include Donald Vance, Associate Professor of Biblical Languages and Literature at
Oral Roberts University. Vance studied Northwest Semitic Philology at The Oriental
Institute, and received his Ph.D. from the University of Denver and Iliff School of
Theology. Second, George Athas is a lecturer in Old Testament Studies, Hebrew,
and Church History at Moore College in Sydney, Australia. Third, Yael Avrahami
received his Ph.D. from the University of Haifa and is the chair of the Department of
Biblical Studies at Oranim Academic College in Haifa, Israel. Finally, Jonathan Kline
received his Ph.D. from Harvard University and currently serves as the academic
editor at Hendrickson Publishers. Kline’s contribution to the work includes the
helpful vocabulary and morphology lists.
Biblical Aramaic begins with an Introduction to the Aramaic language (pp.
ix–xix). This introduction includes a brief, but helpful, introduction to the history of
Aramaic. The authors discuss the language branch of Aramaic as well as the various
dialects that developed in the ancient world (Old Aramaic, Imperial Aramaic, Syriac,
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and Late Aramaic) (pp. ix–x). In a more elaborate discussion of the Aramaic language,
these broad designations could be further delineated into additional sub-categories.
Following their discussion of the history of the Aramaic language, the authors discuss
the Aramaic of the Bible. Since Biblical Aramaic is not a true dialect of Aramaic, but
only designates the portions of the Bible written in Aramaic, the authors conclude
that it is difficult to assign a stage of Aramaic history to each section of Biblical
Aramaic. The authors conclude that all of the sections of Biblical Aramaic seem to
be a mixture of ancient dialects (p. xii).
The next section of the Introduction provides the reader with a pathway from
Hebrew to Aramaic morphologically. Many readers will be familiar with Biblical
Hebrew, and so these general differences between Hebrew and Aramaic will allow
the student or pastor to move rather easily from their knowledge of Biblical Hebrew
to Biblical Aramaic. After rehearsing some differences (distinct vocabularies,
pronunciation and spelling differences, and the Canaanite shift), the authors move
to the similarities between the languages. On page xiv, the authors provide a helpful
chart listing consonantal equivalents between the two languages. For example, a זin
Hebrew can often be a דin Aramaic. Likewise, the צin Hebrew may sometimes be an
עin Aramaic. Knowing these consonantal equivalents can help the Hebrew student
move from the Hebrew ‘( זָהָבgold’) to the Aramaic ‘( ּדְ הַבgold’). Similarly, Hebrew
‘( ֶ֫א ֶרץland’) is equivalent to Aramaic ‘( ֲא ַרעland’). These consonantal equivalents are
indispensable for obtaining a quick, but elementary, Aramaic vocabulary.
After the discussion of consonantal equivalents, the authors provide differences
in the nominal system for Aramaic. The authors highlight differences in the
determined (definite) state as well as differences to the distinguishing marks of
masculine and feminine nouns.
Next, the authors discuss the Aramaic verbal system, particularly the different
nomenclature for Aramaic binyanim versus Hebrew binyanim (pp. xv–xvi). This
discussion will be required in order for one to make his/her way through this
work. While Aramaic stems have similar nuances to Hebrew verbal stems, the
nomenclature for these stems is rather different. To further the difficulty, various
authors use different nomenclature depending on their system of learning Aramaic.
Russell Fuller uses a shorthand numerical system with 1 being the base stems (active
and passive/reflexive), 2 being the intensive stems, and 3 being the causative stems.
Miles VanPelt (Basics of Biblical Aramaic, 2011), Alger Johns (A Short Grammar
of Biblical Aramaic, 1972), and Franz Rosenthal (A Grammar of Biblical Aramaic,
2006) follow the standard naming of the stems (Peal, Peil, Hithpeel, Pael, Hithpaal,
Haphel, and Hophal), while the authors of Biblical Aramaic follow the linguistics
designation of the Grundstamm, or the language’s base stem, the “G stem.” Other
linguistic designations in this volume are “D” for “doubling” (intensive dagesh
forte in second radical), “H” for causative stems, and various other designations to
highlight passive, middle, or reflexive voice nuances. While these designations are
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at home in linguistics discussions, they may be foreign to some Biblical Hebrew and
Aramaic students, and so the chart on page xv will be valuable for understanding the
handbook/reader portion of the volume.
The final section of the book’s Introduction provides helpful ways to use this
volume. The discussion here primarily includes how to use the book’s extensive
vocabulary and morphology lists.
Being an Aramaic “Reader,” the next fifty-six pages include the Aramaic portions
of the Bible along with a detailed apparatus providing verb parsing, vocabulary helps
and some minor grammatical comments to aid with translation. The Aramaic text is
fully pointed, and the apparatus is keyed using superscripted letters tied to footnotes
below the text. The reader will need to refer to the abbreviations list on pp. xxi–xxii
to fully comprehend the apparatus. However, after using the “Reader” portion of
the volume for a few minutes, the abbreviations will become normal and natural.
Regarding vocabulary in the “Reader,” words that occur twenty-five times or more
are not analyzed below the Aramaic text. Rather, these frequent words are listed in
a glossary in the back of the book. This feature allows for efficient translation while
also removing the “crutch” of extensive vocabulary help.
To say that the “crutch” or vocabulary help has been removed refers only to the
Aramaic textual apparatus in the “Reader” portion of the work. The remainder of the
book, nearly 75% of the volume, contains an array of vocabulary and morphology
lists. List 1 (pp. 61–78) provides all words that occur two times or more in Biblical
Aramaic. The list contains not only vocabulary and definitions, but also the part
of speech and the frequency of each word. List 2 (pp. 78–87) address all hapax
legomena in Biblical Aramaic including a staggering (and depressing) 266 words.
This list includes lexical forms, definitions, attested forms as they occur in the text,
parsing, and the verse in which the word occurs. List 3 (pp. 88–94) begins the section
of lists for parts of speech, beginning with verbs. List 3 provides all verbal roots with
gloss definitions and the frequency that these verbs occur. Lists 4–15 (pp. 94–117)
cover common nouns, proper nouns, adjectives, pronouns, prepositions, numbers,
adverbs, conjunctions, disjunctives, interjections, particles, and collocations
respectively. Lists 16–25 (pp. 118–147) cover all verbs by stem, and Lists 26–45 (pp.
148–198) includes all verbs by root type (‘strong’, I-ע, I-א, II-ו, etc.). The lists of verbs
by root type provide a remarkable benefit to observing morphological trends within
Biblical Aramaic as well as confirming morphological trends among the “weak”
verbs of Biblical Hebrew. Lists 46 and 47 (pp. 199–210) provide verbs by frequency
of attested form and number of stems in which the verb occurs. Lists 48–55 (pp.
211–223) provide words with various pronominal suffixes. Lists 56–57 (pp. 224–228)
address words that are easily confused, particularly homonyms and consonantal
homonyms respectively. The final lists, Lists 58–63 (pp. 229–231), include various
loanwords from Persia, Sumer, Akkad, Greek, and Hebrew.
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The value of this volume can be summarized in two categories. First, this volume
provides an easy-to-read reproduction of the Aramaic portions of the Bible. Not only
is the text itself visually appealing, but the apparatus provides helpful information for
efficient translation and grammatical discussion of the Aramaic text. Secondly, the
vocabulary and morphology lists in this volume provide a single location for lexical
analysis of Biblical Aramaic. Rather than working with various Bible software
searches, these lists provide a multi-faceted look at the vocabulary and morphology
of Biblical Aramaic in one place.
With multiple resources in this single volume, this work will be most helpful to
the seminary student or pastor who is seeking to read (with efficiency) the Aramaic
portions of the Bible. While the introduction provides some (very) basic introductions
to the Aramaic language, those without any knowledge of Biblical Aramaic may find
it difficult to use this volume with ease. However, those with some background in
Biblical Aramaic will find a great resource here. Those who have a background in
Biblical Hebrew will also find an excellent resource here, but some additional study
may be required in order to fully understand the differences between Hebrew and
Aramaic. This volume accompanied by VanPelt’s Basics of Biblical Aramaic would
provide a strong baseline for any second semester seminary student who desires to
study Biblical Aramaic.
Adam J. Howell
Boyce: The College at Southern
Poythress, Vern S. The Miracles of Jesus: How the Savior’s Mighty Acts
Serve as Signs of Redemption. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016, pp. 271,
$19.99, paperback.
In The Miracles of Jesus, Vern S. Poythress, a long-tenured professor of New
Testament interpretation at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia,
provides an interpretive grid that sees Jesus’ miracles as “signs of redemption.”
The Miracles of Jesus is structured in four parts: Part 1 introduces the topic
of Jesus’ miracles; Part 2 analyzes and illustrates some of Jesus’ miracles in the
Gospel of John; Part 3 provides a comprehensive examination of Jesus’ miracles in
the Gospel of Matthew; and Part 4 concludes with an examination of the miracle of
Jesus’ resurrection and its application to individuals. Parts 2 and 3 comprise the main
section of the book, as the division of chapters attests (3–8 and 9–36, respectively).
The focus on the Gospels of John and Matthew is intended to complement the work
of Richard Phillips (Mighty to Save: Discovering God’s Grace in the Miracles of
Jesus), who in a 2001 volume published by P&R similarly analyzed Jesus’ miracles
in the Gospel of Luke (p. 30).
Even though the analysis of Jesus’ miracles in Matthew comprises the longest
section of the book, arguably the central section is located in Part 2, where the
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thesis and hermeneutical method are developed. The thesis of The Miracles of
Jesus, which is clear enough from the subtitle, is that Jesus’ miracles are signs
of redemption. As “redemptive analogies” (p. 30), they point beyond themselves
to a greater act of redemption, namely, the death and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus’
miracles are not random acts of kindness and compassion but are “organically
related” (p. 64) to Jesus’ accomplishment of redemption and his application of
redemption’s benefits to us. Hence, the reason why Jesus’ miracles are linked to the
kingdom of God is because the gospel of the kingdom concerns a doing away with
sin: “Salvation, comprehensively viewed, includes more than healing diseases. At
its heart, it is healing from sin. And so the miracles are signs of the kingdom”
(p. 162). Specifically, Jesus’ resurrection effected the dawn of the promised new
creation; his miracles, therefore, testify to this greater reality of a new heaven and
new earth in which righteousness dwells (pp. 232–35).
The method used to support this thesis follows Edmund Clowney’s approach
to typology (see Chapter 6). Especially where there is no explicit biblical teaching
on the meaning of Jesus’ miracles—as often is the case in the Synoptic Gospels—
Poythress argues we should utilize a typological approach, which seeks to discern
the original referent of any given symbol in Scripture, and then to discern how that
referent is fulfilled in Jesus’ death and resurrection. For example, the Old Testament
sacrificial system symbolized or referred to Israel’s need for forgiveness of sins
through a substitute, a referent that found its final fulfillment in the substitutionary,
sacrificial death of Jesus on the cross (pp. 66–67). Similarly, Jesus’ own miracles
are typological, for they each symbolize a specific truth of what Jesus has come
to accomplish, which is ultimately grounded in his death and resurrection. For
instance, Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000 symbolizes his ability to provide spiritual
food, which was accomplished definitively and finally on the cross. Hence, the
feeding of the 5,000 is typological of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross by which he
provides himself as our spiritual food (pp. 68–70). Indeed, all the miracles in the
Bible—not only those found in the Gospels—point beyond themselves to Jesus’
greater work of redemption through the cross and resurrection (pp. 247–51).
Poythress has provided the church with a much-needed guide to interpret the
meaning and significance of Jesus’ miracles, for they can be too easily divorced from
his death and resurrection. The approaches to miracles by liberation theologians,
“social gospel” adherents, and those associated with the “prosperity gospel”
typically fail—in their own way—to see this organic connection, which leads to
a misunderstanding and misapplication of the mission Jesus came to accomplish
and the nature of the already-but-not-yet-consummated kingdom of God. Poythress
rightly shows that the miracles must be interpreted in light of Jesus’ climactic
death and resurrection.
At the same time, I wonder if Poythress subtly undermines some of what
Jesus accomplished through his death and resurrection when he suggests that
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Jesus’ physical healing was never the greater good but only pointed to a greater
spiritual reality. Concerning Matthew 8:16–17, which affirms that Jesus’ healing
and exorcisms fulfilled Isaiah 53:4, Poythress says, “The full passage in Isaiah 53
uses the language of disease metaphorically to indicate how the coming servant
will suffer as a substitute for sin…Deliverance on the physical level symbolizes
deliverance on the spiritual level” (p. 114). I don’t disagree that Isaiah 53
emphasizes how the servant will be a substitute for his people so as to deal with
their sin. However, Isaiah 53 says more than this, for it speaks holistically of what
the servant will accomplish: his death for sin will bring us “peace” and “healing”
(Isa 53:5). These terms describe both physical and spiritual realities, for they depict
a world where all things have been made new. Jesus’ healings and exorcisms in
Matthew 8:16–17, therefore, do not merely point beyond themselves to the fact
that Jesus has come to deal with our sin—though this is certainly included—
but they suggest that Jesus is the servant of Isaiah 53 who has come to make all
things new by means of his death and resurrection. Since his mission was to deal
fundamentally with the root problem, namely, our sin, it is not surprising that at
times the Scriptures indicate Jesus’ mission also included the eradication of the
results of sin, such as sickness, demon oppression, and death. To be clear, I am
not saying that Poythress disagrees in toto with my concerns—rather, he notes his
agreement with these points in various places (e.g., pp. 40–41, 115, 172). Nor do I
disagree with Poythress’ main point: that Jesus’ miracles function typologically as
signs of redemption. Rather, my concern is that we ascertain precisely the nature of
that which the miracles typify. If we interpret Jesus’ healings and exorcisms merely
as metaphors or symbols for spiritual realities, we run the risk of minimizing the
Gospel writers’ holistic witness concerning the nature of the redemption Jesus
accomplished through his death and resurrection.
The Miracles of Jesus is a valuable and much-needed contribution for the
study of Jesus’ miracles. It would prove useful for pastors, particularly when they
are preparing to preach through one of the Gospels. Educated laity would also
find this book useful for personal study, especially in Chapters 8 and 38 where
Poythress provides specific examples for application in daily life. Finally, this
book could be considered for use in an undergraduate class on the Gospels, for it
introduces the hermeneutically-valuable notion of typology and seeks to apply it to
Jesus’ miracles.
Joshua M. Greever
Grand Canyon University, Phoenix, AZ
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“Substantiality and Personality in the Scholastic Doctrine of God,” offers a useful
history of the concept of substantiality and personality. However, it does not develop
a robust concept of God. Hans Kraml’s, “The God of Philosophy—The God of the
Qur’an: A Problem for Medieval Islamic Philosophy,” gives a bit of an overview of
certain Islamic thinkers, but never goes into detail about what those thinkers believed
about God. Howard Robinson’s, “Idealism and Orthodox Christian Theism,” offers a
lucid articulation of idealism, but says very little about the nature of God.
That being said, there were several essays in this volume that stood out to me
as developing clear and distinct conceptions of God that are worth considering. As
I noted before, Wiertz’s essay offers a rigorous account of perfect being theology.
I have already made it clear that I do not think that he has presented a defense of
classical theism. However, it seems to me that he has offered a clear case for open
theism on the basis of perfect being theology. Anyone who is interested in examining
competing conceptions of God will want to consider this.
Peter Forrest’s, “God as a Person: A Defense of Anthropomorphic Theism,”
develops his ideas on God as an embodied agent. I have been following Forrest’s
work for several years. He is an entertaining thinker to read, and he always offers
careful arguments for his views. In this essay, Forrest offers several arguments
against Aristotelian and Thomistic conceptions of God, and then mounts a defense
of his own version of personal pantheism. He considers issues related to religious
language as well as the mind-body problem, and their relevance to the God-world
relationship.
My main interest in this book is Benedikt Paul Göcke’s essay, “The Paraconsistent
God.” In the introduction to this book, Göcke is referred to as “one of the most
outspoken defenders of analytic panentheism in Germany” (p. 1). Over the years,
Göcke has written several important essays articulating and defending panentheism
as the most theologically adequate conception of God. In “The Paraconsistent
God,” he develops his understanding of divine infinity in order to further develop
his account of panentheism. Göcke distinguishes several different understandings
of infinity before landing on the sense of infinity that he claims applies to God.
God is infinite in that God possesses every property and its denial. As such, the
law of non-contradiction does not apply to God. This is what Göcke means by God
being paraconsistent—God possesses every property and its denial. Of course,
this has a rather odd entailment that Göcke does not consider. If the paraconsistent
God has every property and its denial, that means that the following statements are
both true of God. It is true that <God is paraconsistent>. It is also true that <God
is not paraconsistent>. Since the law of non-contradiction does not apply to the
paraconsistent God, this may not be a problem for the view, but it certainly sounds
odd to the say the least.
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For readers of this journal, Rethinking the Concept of a Personal God may not
be the most useful for delving deeper into competing conceptions of God. For some
seminary students, a few of these essays may prove useful for your studies.
R. T. Mullins
University of St Andrews
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Chapters 2–3 place Leviticus in the context of the Pentateuch as the third and
central book, following on the heels of the Genesis account of human/Israelite origins
and especially of Exodus and the filling of the tabernacle with God’s presence. In
chapter 4, Morales argues convincingly that the tabernacle of Exodus has a twofold
theological meaning. It is both the dwelling of God (God’s “house,” as it were), and
second as “the way to God’s house, that is, the way to God himself, to engage with him
in fellowship” (p. 109). The tabernacle, thus, is a microcosm of the cosmos, mirroring
Eden-like characteristics in design and function. Moreover, there is correspondence
between Genesis and Leviticus with the introduction of the High Priest in the
Leviticus account, which Morales says is an Adam-like person (p. 118). Thus, the
book of Leviticus shows how the inability for man to enter into God’s presence and
live—all due to Adam’s sin in Genesis 3—is gradually abolished in Leviticus 1–10.
Like Adam, the Levitical provisions allow for a High Priest realistically to enter
God’s presence, even if only once per year. Indeed, the central thesis of the book is
eventually stated along these same lines in chapter 5. Who shall ascend the mountain
of YHWH? “The one able to ascend is the Adam-like priest, with blood, on the
Day of Atonement. This is the way YHWH has opened for humanity to dwell in his
presence” (p. 177). In a biblical theological study as this one, the final answer to this
question is explained later with the obvious typological connections in the book of
Hebrews and the presentation of Jesus as High Priest.
Chapter 5 begins with the defilement of the house of God (Nadab and Abihu,
Lev 10:1–3), the need to emphasize the cleansing of the house via laws of the clean
and unclean (Lev 11–15), followed by the Day of Atonement ceremony (Lev 16).
To be clean means to be fit for the presence of God, while to be holy means that
one belongs to God (p. 155). Atonement and holiness are typical summary words in
Levitical theology, and Morales agrees insofar as we see that atonement and holiness
are the means to an end, that is, the means to Israel’s fellowship and communion with
YHWH (p. 125). Life in the presence of God is the key to unraveling the theology
of Leviticus, not the themes of atonement and holiness per se. The house of God
must be cleansed in order for the people to dwell in its vicinity and live. Thus, the
Day of Atonement legislation is paramount since it “narrates the cleansing of God’s
house from the inside out” (p. 170). In other words, the Day of Atonement “reverses
the presumed steady movement of uncleanness to the tabernacle throughout the
year” (p. 171).
Chapter 6 is about Leviticus 17–27 and to a large extent has to do with life in
God’s presence. The people are being cleansed and consecrated through YHWH’s
presence in their midst, and thus there are implications for daily living (p. 185), the
main subject of the latter section of Leviticus. Chapter 7 explores the relationship
of the cultic legislation and theology of Leviticus in the rest of the Old Testament,
especially the relationship of Sinai with Zion and the development of “mountain
theology.” The final chapter moves on to the NT, explaining how the Son of God, the
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greater High Priest, makes possible the final entrance into the heavenly abode of God
for all eternity (p. 259).
Before getting to the positive impact of Who Shall Ascend to the Mountain of
the Lord, I will state here a few brief points of criticism. Morales has the tendency
to overstate certain texts and themes within Leviticus, or simply the contribution
of Leviticus within the Pentateuch. He stresses, for example, that the histories of
Genesis and Exodus serve as something of an introduction to the book of Leviticus
(pp. 112–13). This comment forces Leviticus up against the importance of other books
in the Pentateuch. We might note that the use and reuse of the book of Deuteronomy
in the prophets serves a dominant role in the rest of the Hebrew canon (and by NT
authors) without diminishing the importance of Leviticus. Morales does not say that
Leviticus is the most important book in the Pentateuch, but he comes close. I would
rather emphasize the theology of the Pentateuch as programmatic for the theology of
the rest of the Bible, not solely the book of Leviticus.
Morales also overemphasizes the Sabbath principle in biblical theology (p.
198), and later, that every movement or prophetic expectation in the Hebrew Bible is
defined by the movement to or away from the divine presence (p. 238). On these two
points, I find the arguments by Stephen Dempster in another book in the NSBT series
more compelling (Dominion and Dynasty: A Theology of the Hebrew Bible, 2003).
These criticisms are minor, however. Many of the books in the NSBT series are
robust studies in biblical theology by seasoned scholars. Having read most of these
works, I can vouch for the credibility of the series as a whole, and Who Shall Ascend
the Mountain of the Lord is a solid addition. As I stated above, Leviticus is not a
favorite among theologians, it seems. And even larger OT theological works (and
especially systematic theologies) often neglect the book, opting to summarize it as
mere “holiness legislation,” or a work of outdated laws about the clean and unclean
that are no longer normative. But I suspect this kind of thinking is the result, at least in
part, of widespread adherence in Reformed circles to the tripartite division of the law
into moral, civil, and ceremonial. This division, while commendable, places greater
weight on the moral aspects of the law but deemphasizes the civil and ceremonial
since that is what has been fulfilled in Christ (even though there are moral dimensions
to the civil and ceremonial laws, too). Morales, a professor at Presbyterian seminary,
no doubt adheres to the tripartite division as stated in the Westminster Confession.
But Morales also unlocks a theological golden treasure in the book of Leviticus that
cannot be reduced to these three headings. In doing so, a grander and richer theology
of the Pentateuch emerges, one that has long been neglected.
Morales frames his study around the quest for the presence of God, and perhaps
that is why it is such an attractive way forward in approaching the book of Leviticus.
Laws and legislation in the OT are so far removed from Christians today in a completely
different cultural situation and under a different covenant administration. Morales
makes clear what is obscure to most of us. What he provides is a biblical theology of
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Leviticus in the fullest sense: within the narrative context of the Pentateuch, God has
opened a Levitical way for humanity to dwell in his presence. Morales says that this
theme is the drama of the Bible (p. 304). And even if one disagrees, we must accept
that he has made a compelling case and brilliantly argued his point.
This book is an excellent contribution to biblical studies. Scholars and seminary
students should plumb the depths of Leviticus with this book in hand. My main
concern is that this book will go unnoticed or simply left unread by many pastors in
evangelical circles since it is long (300 pages), in an academic series (NSBT), and
published by an academic press (Apollos/IVP). More likely, if this book is neglected
it will be because the word “Leviticus” is in the title, and that would be unfortunate.
In his commentary on Leviticus in the Continental Commentary (Fortress, 2004),
Jacob Milgrom lamented a similar trend outside of evangelicalism: “In Israel today,
Leviticus is not in the school curriculum. Even in advanced schools of Torah studies,
the yeshivot, Leviticus is not studied in its entirety, but only a verse here, a verse
there” (p. xii).
We should be chided for our neglect of mastering a Pentateuchal book like
Leviticus, not least of all reading it. Overstatements aside, one would be wrong to
understate the potential of Morales’ book in reinvigorating scholars and pastors to
examine its content closely. Morales’ fresh approach to Leviticus is welcome, and
I cannot think of a better book on the theology of Leviticus that this one. I highly
recommend it.
Joshua M. Philpot
Houston Baptist University
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Bartholomew sets the table for the book in his introduction, where he outlines
the basic Kuyperian program, which entails seeking the welfare of the city. The
Kuyperian tradition is one that is primarily outward looking. Chapter One details
Kuyper’s conversion from liberal, cultural Christian to Reformed orthodoxy. In the
second chapter, Bartholomew summarizes the ideas of creation and redemption in
the Kuyperian tradition. These concepts are central in understanding that tradition’s
vision for the scope of what should be, what is, and what one day will be. Similarly
foundational, Chapter Three surveys the high view of the authority and veracity of
Scripture in the Kuyperian tradition. Bartholomew is careful to indicate that Kuyper
rejected notions such as mechanical dictation, but held the Bible as received in high
esteem and ascribed ultimate authority to it. The fourth chapter reflects upon the
centrality of the idea of worldview among those that follow Kuyper. This chapter
alone is worth the price of the book as Bartholomew deftly undermines the popular
critiques of worldview as a tool for cultural understanding.
Chapter Five marks a shift in the discussion, as the chapter topics become less
foundational and more topical. This chapter explains and critiques the idea of sphere
sovereignty, which is the most often recognized but often least understood aspect of
the Kuyperian tradition. In the sixth chapter, Bartholomew explains the importance
of the concept of the universal and local church for Kuyper and his disciples. Chapter
Seven engages with the robust and often ignored emphasis within the Kuyperian
tradition on political engagement, concern for the poor, and efforts to live in a
pluralistic society. The reader cannot help but wonder if much of the cultural warfare
of the past half century might have been minimized if Kuyper’s work had been more
readily available. The eighth chapter touches on the center of Kuyperianism, which
is an emphasis on holistic mission.
Chapter Nine surveys the significant contributions of Kuyperian philosophers
ranging from Kuyper himself to contemporary giants like Alvin Plantinga. In the
tenth chapter Bartholomew provides an overview of the major theological themes in
the Kuyperian tradition, as well as the significant theological emphasis that undergirds
the writing of those in the tradition. It is impossible to understand Kuyperianism
without understanding the theology from which the practical applications sprang.
Chapter Eleven summarizes a Kuyperian vision for education. This chapter is
helpful and offers a strong apologetic for the value of the unified worldview of a
truly Christian university. Some of Bartholomew’s recommendations in this chapter,
however, tend toward the speculative and Eurocentric, such as his plea for a three-
year university track based on Jesus’ three year equipping of his disciples. In the
final chapter, Bartholomew notes the impossibility of fulfilling the Kuyperian social
program without individual spiritual formation, which is sometimes a less developed
element in contemporary expression of Kuyperian themes. The book closes with a
postscript outlining resources available for studying the Kuyperian tradition.
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This volume is billed as a systematic introduction. It satisfies the claim of
systematization quite well. The structure is logical and helpful for those reading
through the volume for the first time and also for those seeking a focused explanation
of the trajectory of the Kuyperian tradition on a particular topic. However, the
volume will most significantly benefit those who have already have a moderate
awareness of the major figures in the Kuyperian tradition. To be truly introductory,
the volume would have needed an early chapter surveying the timeline of the whole
tradition, especially those figures that are frequently mentioned in this text. This is
an invaluable resource for understanding the Kuyperian tradition, but it does not
serve as a primer for the field.
Contours of the Kuyperian Tradition is a very well-written and timely book that
should be read widely. There is a major project afoot to get Kuyper’s works translated
into English and widely available. These efforts, facilitated by Lexham Press, Acton
Institute, and the Abraham Kuyper Translation Society, are broadcasting a vision that
promises to be helpful to Christians navigating sometimes hostile but indubitably
broadly pluralistic cultural channels. Batholomew’s volume is indispensable as
a chart for the Kuyperian tradition and should be read alongside the recent and
forthcoming translations.
Andrew J. Spencer
Oklahoma Baptist University
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These essays present a concise introduction to the field of Old Testament wisdom
literature, which suits an introduction. The essays work harmoniously to present a
wide range of materials. The contributors disagree at minor points, but the theological
preferences do not take away from the harmony. For example, Ernest views Wisdom
in Proverbs 8 as a literary figure (p. 48) while Christopher views Wisdom as the
lexicon for Paul describing Jesus in Colossians 1 (p. 192). The reader gleans choice
fruit from the contributors since they consist of scholars in wisdom literature across
various disciplines. However, they do not present a unified perspective on wisdom
literature and the solution of unity within the canon.
The focus of the book centers upon the individual books of wisdom literature and
wisdom’s theme. Ernest C. Lucas focuses primarily upon the issue of hermeneutics
and textual difficulties within the unity of Proverbs (p. 39). Lucas shines light upon
the supposed disunity within Proverbs and proposes a textual unity through word
clusters (p. 41). He provides a way forward to the unity of Proverbs. Although scholars
disagree about the units of clusters Lucas rightly indicates their existence (p. 39).
Ecclesiastes poses unique problems in the discussion within wisdom literature.
Katharine J. Dell focuses upon several issues that have impacted the interpretation
of Ecclesiastes and its place within wisdom literature. Dell focuses upon form-
critical issues more than theological understanding (p. 80). Her essay would benefit
more if in her essay she covered issues related to the place of Ecclesiastes within
the canon, instead of showing the historical issues of Ecclesiastes. She provides a
succinct summary of Ecclesiastes’ place among scholars, but Walter Kaiser and
Craig Bartholomew have already written on the interpretation of Ecclesiastes in 1986
and 1999. Her summary does not advance the discussion since others have covered
the history of interpretation.
Rosalind Clarke demonstrates Song of Songs’ place among the wisdom literature,
even though modern scholars detached it from the wisdom corpus (p. 101). Clarke
links Lady Wisdom and the Shulamite through the theme of pursuit of a woman and
attaining wisdom (p. 112). She demonstrates the link between Proverbs and Song of
Songs so that the reader sees the intentional link between the two women. Clarke
briefly addresses the intertextuality between the books and provides a well-balanced
addition to the field of Old Testament studies.
The third section focuses upon ideas within the Old Testament. The ideas
cover a hermeneutical and theological discussion so that each chapter poises itself
to contribute to the unity of wisdom literature within the canon. Gregory Goswell
discusses whether Ruth belongs in the wisdom literature through post-compositional
framing from the Hebrew tradition. The LXX and Leningrad Codex place different
emphases through the ordering of the canonical books (p. 117). Goswell argues
that the Hebrew tradition creates a post-compositional framework (p. 132). In this
essay, Goswell presents a well-grounded argument for interpreting Ruth in a wisdom
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framework considering the book’s placement after Proverbs. Ruth models a wisdom
ethic of Proverbs when positioned after Proverbs (132).
Scholars seek to find wisdom’s place within biblical theology and wisdom’s
influence on the canon of scripture. The third section places wisdom’s relation to
biblical theology and the Psalms under the third section. Christopher Ansberry does
not solve all issues within his chapter on biblical theology but gives insight to the
pressing questions. Simon P. Stocks argues in his essay that the wisdom forms are
divinely mandated expressions of reality (p. 203). Stocks cuts through form-critical
appropriation of wisdom’s influence into the Psalter. He resolves wisdom’s influence
from a macro level of God’s mandated expression of reality (p. 203).
The final idea discusses God’s absence in wisdom literature. Brittany N. Melton
suggests that wisdom is the way to God but wisdom is not always attainable (p. 216).
Wisdom literature presents a tension between divine presence and absence. Melton
suggests that God is hidden behind wisdom and we cannot fully know God but only
in part (p. 216). I would suggest that God is not hiding behind wisdom but in wisdom
since wisdom is a revelation of God. Lady Wisdom calls out to all in the city but the
foolish do not heed her call.
The students of biblical theology will benefit from these essays as they introduce
the pressing topics within wisdom literature. The essays serve to orient the biblical
theologian to the wide range of materials within the wisdom corpus. They serve
to survey the issues and point to further study so that the student can navigate the
literature. The essays provide a balanced approached to understanding wisdom
literature in the modern world. The reader will benefit greatly from these essays.
Interpreting Old Testament Wisdom Literature provides a great introduction to
the breadth of wisdom literature. The essays clarify the field of wisdom literature
and give a tangible introduction. The essays present the unity of the wisdom corpus
among diversity of the Old Testament literature. The scholars make genuine efforts to
show uniting and disjunctive forces within the wisdom corpus. These essays benefit
pastors and scholars. The pastor will benefit from the lucid brevity of the articles
and scholars will benefit from the suggested topics of further study. Interpreting
Old Testament Wisdom Literature suggests areas of study and dissertations awaiting
to be written. The Ph.D. student should read with intrigue as considering his topic
and thesis.
Nicholas Majors
Midwestern Seminary, Kansas City, Missouri
Greenway, William. Agape Ethics: Moral Realism and Love for All Life.
Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2016, pp. 147, $21, paperback.
William Greenway is Professor of Philosophical Theology at Austin Presbyterian
Theological Seminary and author of The Challenge of Evil: Grace and the Problem
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of Suffering (Westminster John Knox, 2016), For the Love of All Creatures: The Story
of Grace in Genesis (Eerdmans, 2015) and A Reasonable Belief: Why God and Faith
Make Sense (Westminster John Knox, 2015).
Summary: William Greenway’s Agape Ethics: Moral Realism and Love for
All Life sets out to convince readers of an internal, primordial, universal morality,
based primarily on the thought of philosopher Emmanuel Levinas concerning the
concepts of “awakening” and being seized by the faces of others. The book contains
an Introduction and 11 chapters organized into four Parts: (1) Awakening and Agape;
(2) Science, Scientism, Morality; (3) Beyond Objectivity, Relativism, and Extremism:
Moral Realism, Ethical Surety, and the Sanctity of Life; and (4) Perfect Love in an
Imperfect World: Agape Ethics. A bibliography is included, but no Index.
Greenway’s main concern is inspiring a “spiritual awakening to agape,” longing
to “reawaken a lost sense of spiritual belonging in this world, to retrieve a lost sense
of communion with all creatures and all creation, and to return us to a morally
realistic, ethically responsible, and truly spiritual living of life” (p. 142). The author
contends for moral realism, eschewing moral relativism and moral absolutism (or
even objectivism), affirming “a multitude of ethical convictions” that entails no basis
for real doubt about them (e.g., the wrongness of torturing toddlers for fun) (p. 95).
Central features of Greenway’s neo-Levinasian agape ethics may be summed as
follows: First and foremost, “rehabilitation of the moral self.” Second, “the inclusion
of all life within the scope of moral concern.” Third, treasuring all life as valuable.
Fourth, affirmation of ethical judgments based on “distinctions among the faces
of Faces” as part of every ethical conviction and when circumstance forces ethical
comparison of moral incomparables. Fifth, variations of distinctions and stakes can
appear in forms that contravene ethical surety making ethical reflection and analysis
absolutely critical for wisdom and discernment. Sixth, all ethical conviction is “a
product of both having been seized (the moral) and ethical judgment” (pp. 133–34).
The final chapter presents five different scenarios, each judged ethically, which
leads to the following six-fold conclusion: (1) the reality of the moral can be affirmed
publicly; (2) amoral or immoral persons can be judged publicly to be insensitive to a
profound reality (agape); (3) only those awakened to agape are morally qualified to
engage in ethical debate; (4) moral persons will remain fully faithful to every Face;
(5) moral persons will sense the tragedy and awfulness of injuring any Face; and
(6) no moral persons will decide to act violently against any Face unless they are
compelled by force to compare incomparables (p. 141).
Evaluation: The book begins with controversial narratives and illustrations
involves animals (e.g., deer, cats, crickets), including claims such as killing a cricket
equals committing “murder” (5) and “reflexively killing crickets” alienates us from
“moral reality and the meaningfulness of life” (p. 3). Assuming readers continue
after the Introduction, there is much to glean from this thoughtful, creative work, and
some aspects to question or perhaps purge.
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Greenway demonstrates solid grasp concerning the importance of science, while
rightly rejecting scientism. He asserts the “modern disenchantment of the world was
neither enlightened nor enlightening” (p. 49). Furthermore, “Scientism itself is not a
scientific conclusion. It is a philosophical contention” (p. 54) and cannot explain all
reality, including “free will, moral realism, qualia, and consciousness” (p. 60).
Valuing both human and nonhuman sensitivities and feelings justifiably concerns
Greenway, as does our (human) moral responsibility to treat nonhuman animals
lovingly (p. 29). He boldly claims all life is sacred (p. 33), rightly naming wrongs that
diminish the value of human and non-human life (e.g., abusive experimentation on
orphans and horrendous factory farm practices (pp. 33–34). Nonetheless, the author
bases his rationale not on biblical or theological bases (for instance, the imago Dei
or the fair treatment of animals described in Proverbs), but rather on “having been
seized by the love for every Face” (i.e., seized with concern for the other) moral
grounding (p. 108), which makes a moral claim upon one seized (agape)—spiritual
truth seizing us primordially that we subsequently reflect upon (pp. 42–43).
While most Christians may agree we humans must treat (other) animals
respectfully, Greenway likely loses readers unwilling to grant his view of virtual
moral equality of animals and human beings. For instance, his viewing crickets or
cats or cows as equal partners with humans may strike a tone closer to pantheistic
valuations; possibly envisioning instances of unnecessarily starving human
beings owing to similar religious beliefs (e.g., sacredness of cows). Nonetheless,
Greenway’s stories powerfully engage minds and heartstrings, perhaps none more
than “First Deer” (pp. 34–35). Furthermore, he does suggest an ethical “gradation
in our valuing” (life). For instance, while all life is to be valued, valuing a little
boy, then a cat, then a sapling, then a stick is hierarchically in the right order; to
do otherwise would be “ethical confusion” (p. 44). This is an important distinction
drawn—without which it would be difficult to imagine his view being Christian.
So, while Greenway’s distinction between pre-reflective morality (agape) and its
relationship to ethical judgment and ethical convictions might seem reasonable (p.
91), it lacks any sense of imperfect or distorted morality, which is attributed solely to
the ethical. Important theological insights and interpretations, though, would suggest
imperfections and instabilities in such alleged universal “subjective indubitableness”
(p. 93); it also could challenge Greenway’s neo-Levinasian model and his opposition
to any alternative primordial “given” (which he claims is more certain than any other
epistemological foundation “from which a moral argument could be constructed”)
(p. 40). Apparently, then, divine revelation authority or plausibility is ruled out—
particularly involving ethics and moral claims based in Christian Scripture.
Consequently, Greenway’s approach appears to represent “wishful morality”:
hopeful-yet-implausible within fallen creation. “Awakening” for Greenway appears
to be becoming aware of and embracing universal, subjective morality concerning
other faces, serving as the “passion that fires commitment to goodness, justice,
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and the struggle against injustice and evil” (p. 46). However, I would argue that
more profoundly necessary is supremely dramatic awakening—transitioning from
spiritual death to life, being rescued from the dominion of darkness and transferred
into the kingdom of Christ, actively living out moral qualities given by divine power,
participating in the divine nature, and escaping (natural) evil desires for a better
way, including knowing Christ and remembering the gift of spiritual sight and
cleansing (Eph. 2:1–10, Col. 1:13, 1 Pet. 1:3–9). Only then will human heart darkness
be illumined to true spirituality—new beings renewed in knowledge in the imago
Dei, adding to faith goodness and other moral qualities—flowing from the Creator-
Redeemer of all life (Col. 3:9–10, 1 Pet. 1:5–7).
Greenway strongly asserts there is “no dispassionate, objective, certain basis
for ethics” and “no logical path leading to sure resolution of every ethical issue” (p.
108). Yet, he returns to the claim that “having been seized by the love for the Faces of
all creatures” is the “most powerful brake against the historic and enduring dangers
of ethical and religious prejudice and extremism” and “our most powerful stimulus
toward the good and the just” (pp. 108–09). Such a move raises the question of why
call this “agape” (or Christian) rather than simply internal or universal subjectivity?
Even more radically he declares, “Awakening to having been seized by love for all
Faces is the ultimate and authentic source of all love, goodness, and justice” (p. 109).
One might better imagine Christian commitment to Godself being that ultimate and
authentic source (1 John 4:16, 1 Tim. 4:4, 2 Thess. 1:5–7).
Steve Sherman
Grand Canyon University
Kaiser, Walter C., Tough Questions about God and His Actions in the
Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 2015, pp.176,
$16.99, paperback.
Walter C., Kaiser Jr. (PhD, MA Brandeis University, BD Wheaton Graduate School
of Theology, AB. Wheaton College) is Coleman M. Mockler Distinguished Professor
Emeritus of Old Testament and President Emeritus of Gordon Conwell Theological
Seminary. He is author of numerous books and scholarly articles.
The title of the book, “Tough Questions about God and His Actions in the
Old Testament,” is an accurate summarization of the contents. The book contains
ten chapters that deal with ten problems that some people have with the Old
Testament. In the introduction, Kaiser provides a brief history of issues regarding
the Old Testament. He states that the rise of New Atheism and attacks by Richard
Dawkins (The God Delusion) and Christopher Hitchens (God is not Great: How
Religion Poisons Everything) demand an apologetic response which is based on an
exegetical explanation of Old Testament Theology (pp. 9–16). This book appears
to be a summarization and update of similar issues that he discussed in previous
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publications (Hard Sayings of the Old Testament, 1986 and More Hard Sayings of the
Old Testament 1992, Intervarsity Press).
The chapters address ten juxtaposed questions:
The target audience is primarily high school, college, and graduate school students.
Kaiser states that this group comprises “the largest segment of a new group of
‘Nons’—the non-attenders at church and the non-religious” in our society (p.10).
In light of the misunderstanding and attacks on the Old Testament, Kaiser states
that: “this book proposes to openly and honestly face these charges and to answer
them with valid responses from the same biblical texts that are the basis of these
challenges” (p.11).
A typical chapter is developed with six components. Each chapter begins
with a question that juxtaposes a theological dilemma by which an attack has been
charged against the God of the Old Testament. Secondly, a brief history of the attack
is reviewed. The third component is a survey of current theological approaches to
the issue based on ecclesiastical traditions. The fourth component, which is the
largest, provides an evaluation of the misappropriation of Old Testament passages,
and then an exegetical explanation by which Kaiser seeks to provide an apologetic in
response to the attack on the God of the Old Testament. This component comprises
three to five Scripture passages that require a proper understanding to answer the
initial question of the chapter. In this section, Kaiser draws on his years of exegetical,
cultural and historical studies. At times, the explanations are so technical, exegetical
and/or linguistic that the “Nons” will probably not be able to critically evaluate the
material because it will be beyond their ability. The fifth component is a conclusion
that provides a summarization of the apologetic argument. The concluding section
provides a series of questions that can be discussed by readers in a small group
setting. Many of the expected responses are based on Kaiser’s interpretation of the
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Old Testament passages. Most of the discussion questions do not require critical
thinking but rather a restatement of Kaiser’s explanation contained in the chapter.
Of the ten chapter questions, evangelicals will probably have broad acceptance
of seven of Kaiser’s apologetic answers. There are three chapters (4, 5, and 9) that
will probably be debated by evangelicals as to the acceptance of Kaiser’s explanation.
In chapter 4, (The God of Evolution or the God of Creation?), Kaiser interprets
the first clause of Genesis 1:1 as an independent clause (‘In the beginning God created
the heavens and earth’) rather than a dependent clause (‘When God began to create’)
so as to support a Big Bang Theory (p.59) and not a “Gap Theory” (p.63).
Kaiser argues for a Day-Age theory of creation rather than seven days that are
based on twenty-four hour periods. He refers to St. Augustine for support as well as
the classical argument of Psalm 90:4 that “A thousand years in your sight are like a
day that has gone by.” He argues that “evening and morning” are to be understood as
night time rather than a solar-lunar day of twenty-four hours (pp. 64–65). Although
he has widely opened the door for others to support a view of evolution based on the
long Day-Age periods, he seeks to close the door in stating “The text does not allow
for change to come about in other ways, such as evolutionary theories argue” (p. 70).
In chapter 5, (The God of Grace or the God of Law?), Kaiser provides a summary
of three different methods of handling Old Testament laws. According to Kaiser,
the first approach of Christian Reconstructionism takes a very literal interpretation
and application of the Mosaic Code resulting in the enforcement of Old Testament
penalties in our current society (pp. 74–75).
The second group is described as: “At the other end of the spectrum are
those schools of thought called ‘Dispensationalists,’ that we are, for all intents and
purposes, finished with the Law” (p. 76). As a dispensationalist, I am disappointed
at his characterization. Dispensationalist generally agree that a New Covenant
believer is not under obligation to the Mosaic Law, but affirm Romans 15:4, “For
whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through
perseverance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope” (NASB).
A dispensationalist affirms that the Mosaic Law leads the non-believer to Christ and
is a basis for instruction through principled adaption to Christian living.
The third approach is Covenant Theology which creates a threefold division
of the law into categories of moral, civil and ceremonial laws (p. 77–80). Covenant
Theology believes that only the moral and civil laws are still relevant since the
ceremonial law was fulfilled by the Lord Jesus Christ.
Kaiser embraces a “Paradigmatic Approach” as defined by Chris Wright (Living
as the People of God: The Relevance of Old Testament Ethics). This approach seeks
to understand the “principle” behind the scripture passage. The principle remains to
be applied today rather than to be interpreted literally (pp. 82–83).
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The difficulty for the reader is that there is no clear method provided to
help the reader know how to discover the authorial principles and then apply it
personally to today.
In chapter 9, (The God Who Elevates Women or the God Who Devalues Women?)
Kaiser engages the longstanding debate of the equality of males and females. Kaiser’s
question is not representative of the historical debate or the contents of the chapter
(Traditional versus Egalitarian). It is widely agreed that a view of distinct roles in life,
family or church does not conclude that a woman is devalued (Complementarian:
Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood).
Kaiser begins with a discussion of “pre-understandings” that all readers
bring to a text (pp.137–38). He provides a complex proposal for the translation/
interpretation of Genesis 2:18 (The ‘Nons’ as well as most others will probably be
lost in this discussion). The acceptance of his translation is dependent on a previous
misunderstanding of the Hebrew/Canaanite root and the resulting meaning of “ezer”
based on this correction (pp. 139–140). Kaiser concludes his egalitarian view by
stating: “So rather than saying a woman is to be a ‘helper corresponding to the
man;’ instead, the text teaches that the woman has been given ‘authority, strength,
or power’ that is ‘equal to [man’s]” (p. 140). He then argues from examples in the
Old Testament of women in various circumstances of leadership and service. Kaiser
argues that the exceptions should be viewed as the rule, rather than the exceptions
confirming the rule.
Kaiser concludes by providing an egalitarian interpretation to seminal New
Testament passages that comment on the role of women in the church (1 Tim. 2:8–15;
1 Cor. 14:34–38; 1 Cor. 11:2–16). He seems to conclude that women are repressed or
demeaned if males and females have distinct roles in creative order.
I am not convinced that all the chapters of this book will benefit the “Nons”: the
non-attenders at church and the non-religious in our society. At times, the technical
(and necessary) discussion of interpretations could be beyond their comprehension.
An informed Christian or Bible student will probably benefit the most if they engage
Kaiser’s book with critical thinking. Those who already have his previous books
about similar issues may not benefit significantly from this addition.
John A. McLean
Liberty University Rawling School of Divinity, Lynchburg, VA
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Ridley College, attempts to specify some of the ways that Paul must be viewed within
Judaism as well as how Paul became such a controversial figure within first-century
Judaism.
The introduction maps how others have identified Paul’s relationship to Judaism
around the coordinates of “former,” “transformed,” “faithful,” “radical,” and
“anomalous” Jew. Bird sees the last qualifier as most apt but notes that much of what was
unusual about Paul’s thought did not necessitate the particularly unaccommodating
relationship between Paul and Jewish authorities. He understands Paul’s anomaly to
be the revelation of Jesus Christ, “which discloses how faith in Christ without Torah
was the instrument that brings Jews and Gentiles into reconciliation with God and
into the renewal of all things” (p. 28). Other chapters test this hypothesis with regard
to particular issues.
Chapter 1 summarizes perspectives regarding Paul’s view of Jewish soteriology
and explores degrees of continuity between Paul’s soteriology and Second Temple
Jewish texts. Bird views the chief difference in the two soteriological approaches as
stemming from Paul’s emphasis on Christ’s revelation rather than Torah. Chapter
2 examines Paul’s mission to Jews in his Asian and Aegean travels and proposes
that, although there may have been differences in how Paul related to his Jewish
counterparts over time, Paul was an apostle to both Jews and Gentiles. Chapters 3
and 4 take up issues in Galatians. Chapter 3 defends elements of apocalyptic readings
of Galatians but insists that Paul’s apocalyptic tendencies cannot be separated from
salvation-history. Chapter 4 looks at the issue of table fellowship in Gal 2:11–14 where
Bird sees a qualified Christ-Torah antithesis in Paul’s letter. Finally, chapter 5 studies
Paul’s understanding of the Roman Empire with reference to the letter to Rome and
finds challenges to Roman self-perceptions but neither unabating resistance nor
passive quietism.
Bird’s writing is engaging, his positions represent genuine attempts to move
scholarly dialogue forward, and his footnotes appropriately reflect the scholarship with
which he interacts. By way of illustration, Bird takes up apocalyptic interpretations
of Paul in chapter 3. His choice to read Galatians alongside apocalyptic interpreters
is salient, since Galatians is the Pauline letter that is used most often for such a
reading. Galatians contains several Second Temple apocalyptic motifs, but Bird
also notes an underlying Barthian presence in apocalyptic studies of Paul for which
Second Temple apocalyptic language can serve as a veil. Bird highlights Second
Temple apocalyptic themes and finds that Paul’s apocalypticism is expressed most
clearly in his interpretation of Jesus’s death and resurrection. Where some divorce
Paul’s understanding of Jesus from Israel’s history, Bird rightly reads Galatians as a
fresh configuration of scriptural themes and stories in light of Jesus. Apocalypticism
and salvation history must not be divided from one another in Pauline thinking. In
Galatians, Gentiles are included as part of Abraham’s family in Christ, but this does
not nullify Torah. Rather, Torah also finds its climax in Christ.
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One should hope that by following the lines of thought in this book, they may
come to a better understanding of Paul’s letters and be provoked to think further
about how best to interpret them. For example, Bird seems to be on the right path
regarding Paul’s view of the Roman Empire. It is clear that there are significant
consequences for following Jesus in Paul’s understanding. It is likewise reasonable
to expect that the cult of Caesar could be included in Paul’s discussions of idolatry,
although, as Bird’s examples show, clearer evidence for clashes between Jesus-
followers and Rome may be found in second-century texts. Moreover, it must be the
case that by calling Jesus “Lord” the implication, from both the Christian and Roman
perspective, is that Caesar is finally not Lord. By taking Romans as an example,
Bird allows readers to glimpse how Paul’s view of Rome may be understood in one
letter. A fuller consideration of Paul’s thought on this issue would need to take into
account other letters. In addition, given Paul’s immersion in Israel’s scriptures, one
might wonder what relationship obtains between scriptural and imperial language.
By considering these matters more fully, one might take Bird’s insightful remarks in
further enlightening directions.
In light of Paul’s popularity, or infamy, in the early Christian movement, one
might also think alongside Bird in order to further his work beyond strictly Pauline
studies. This may be done particularly well with regard to the partings of the ways.
Such terminology has become a standard way of describing the process of separation
between Judaism and Christianity in the first few centuries. When parting is used in
the singular, it may imply a simple, one-track separation that struggles to make sense
of the tangle of positions on early Christian and early Jewish relations which are
reflected in the early centuries of the Jesus movement. Bird employs parting in the
singular in chapter 4 while studying a single event, namely, the conflict with Peter in
Gal 2:11–14. Since only one event is in view, parting is entirely appropriate. However,
there is a more noteworthy observation to be made about Bird’s terminology. He
speaks not of a parting of the ways but rather a parting in the ways. The preposition
is aptly chosen when describing the in-house conflict portrayed in Gal 2, but such
terminology should give pause to those studying other early Christian documents.
Should other texts that are employed in discussions of the partings of the ways be
used instead to describe partings in the ways? If so, at what point, and on what
basis, can a parting in the ways be differentiated from a parting of the ways? While
studying an event in the middle of the first century, the language of chapter 4 may
help readers to think further about the anomalous relationship of other Christians and
Jews (to use potentially anachronistic terminology) throughout the first and second
centuries.
An Anomalous Jew is not an introduction to Paul but provides a useful map of
contemporary Pauline studies along with insightful explorations of issues relating to
Paul and his social world. Along the way, Bird does not lose sight of the importance
of Paul’s theological, and particularly christological, convictions for framing Paul’s
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interaction with the surrounding world. Advanced undergraduate and postgraduate
students, scholars, and interested pastors and lay readers with some background
knowledge will find this volume exciting, enlightening, and edifying.
Jonathon Lookadoo
University of Otago
Westfall, Cynthia Long. Paul and Gender: Reclaiming the Apostle’s Vision
for Men and Women in Christ. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2016,
pp. 348, paperback, $32.99.
Of all authors who write books and articles on the topic of Paul and gender, Cynthia
Long Westfall is well-qualified to do so. She has published on this topic before in her
article e.g., “The Meaning of αύθεντέω in 1 Timothy 2.12,” Journal of Greco-Roman
Christianity and Judaism, 10 (2014): 138–73. She has taught courses within Pauline
studies at McMaster Divinity College since 2005. She has also served in the context
of the local church; this matters especially as she comments on this part of Paul’s
discussion of ministry in the local church as it pertains to gender roles in the church.
In this book, Westfall seeks to “explain the Pauline passages that concern
gender and to move toward a canon-based Pauline theology of gender” (p. ix).
Several scholars have published books on this topic, especially as it concerns gender
roles in the church (e.g., Piper and Grudem, eds., Recovering Biblical Manhood and
Womanhood; Pierce and Groothuis, Discovering Biblical Equality). Her primary
contribution is her methodology. The method of her study, as she claims, comes partly
from modern linguistics. She explains: “I had acquired a new set of perspectives and
methodological lenses with which to study the issues, not the least of which was
modern linguistics” (p. x). Her audience for this work is primarily the next generation
of students, pastors, and scholars (p. xi). She hopes to make what has been and still is
a controversial topic easier to navigate. The scope of the contents of her study covers
all the Pauline corpus; she accepts all the traditional letters as part of his corpus. She
begins by considering the culture within which Paul wrote. She addresses male and
female stereotypes as Paul explains them in a way that is counter-cultural. Given that
Paul roots his discussions of gender in creation, Westfall considers that topic further
also. Her interpretations of the creation account and Paul’s comments on them follow
a traditional egalitarian approach. She continues her discussion by reflecting on
Pauline eschatology; she feels that this topic is often overlooked in discussions on
gender, primarily because she believes that Paul’s conclusions about how gender
roles function in the church should mirror their roles in the eschaton. She explains
Paul’s conception of the human body as it relates to gender. She discusses authority
in Paul’s theology. She includes one chapter providing her exegesis of 1 Timothy
2:11–15, a text that many consider ground-zero in the discussion of gender roles in the
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Book Reviews
church. To conclude her study, she writes: “The conclusion of this study is to call for
a thorough rereading of the Pauline passages on gender” (p. 313).
This book has several strengths, two of which will be considered here. First,
it seeks to understand Paul’s writings using modern linguistic theory. Although
James Barr encouraged scholars within theology to so in 1961 with the publication
of The Semantics of Biblical Language, few have followed in his footsteps. Westfall,
however, attempts to do just that. Second, Westfall has highlighted several points
throughout her book that both egalitarians and complementarians can agree with.
Both sides can agree that Paul’s literature should be interpreted in accordance with
its cultural context. Both sides agree that all Paul’s writings should be brought to
bear on how his conception of gender is understood. Both sides hopefully agree that
this discussion requires the application of newer methods from fields like modern
linguistic theory that help interpreters study language in a way that accords with the
current scientific standards of today. Writing a book on this topic that helps find any
common ground is an achievement.
Nevertheless, this book has several weaknesses; this review will highlight only
two. First, although she claims to employ modern linguistics as part of her approach,
the results of her analysis seem to include very little of modern linguistic theory. She
has a handful of discussions that concern the semantic range of certain key terms,
but beyond that, there is precious little that helps the reader understand how modern
linguistics is actually relevant to her study. She explains: “There has been a major
problem with a lack of consistent methodology in the interpretation of the texts” (p.
3). She explains further: “Within the tradition of interpretation, the passages that
concern gender have not been understood in the contexts of the discourses in which
they occur, the biblical theology of the Pauline corpus as a whole, the narrative of Paul’s
life, a linguistic understanding/analysis of the Greek language, or an understanding
of the culture that is sociologically informed” (p. 3). Yet, her book does little in
the way of explaining precisely what she means by fleshing out and applying her
methods. What one might have expected is a chapter on methodology that elucidated
all the elements more clearly. Similarly, I had expected her to use more linguistic
terminology as she explains how texts mean and draws her theological conclusions.
To make progress in this area, one would think that clearer methodology would be of
prime of importance given that methods often determine results.
Second, some of her argumentation seems problematic. She writes: “In the
Ephesians household code, Paul briefly indicates that wives should submit (in the
context of mutual submission), and then, in great detail, he tells men to act just like
women or slaves in their marital relationship” (p. 166). Further, she writes, “both
wives and husbands are servants of each other, with only one Lord and master, who has
full authority and power over them” (p. 166). This explanation seems unconvincing
because it seems to struggle with Paul telling wives to submit to their husbands
(Eph 5:22), and not just in the context of mutual submission (Eph 5:21). It is hard to
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understand how any discourse analysis does not see some kind of break in Paul’s
discussion of 5:21 to the entire church to the more specific household codes in 5:22
and following. If one takes Westfall’s same logic, then she would be telling parents
and child to submit to one another; yet, Paul tells children to obey their parents (6:1).
In full disclosure, I read and reviewed this book as a complementarian; my
prediction is that although most complementarians can respect this book as a clear
and thoughtful explanation of the egalitarian position, complementarians will likely
continue to hold their current position after reading this book. I had personally hoped
that she would engage the complementarian arguments at a deeper-level, but her
book seems to repeat the standard egalitarian arguments with only brief mention
of more recent methods. Nevertheless, this book will be important for students and
scholars to interact with because it is now one of the key sources for the egalitarian
position on Paul and gender. Anyone wanting to study this larger debate will likely
need to look to Westfall’s book to understand the egalitarian position. But, it is hoped
that future contributions to this larger discussion will learn from the shortcomings of
this book to chart a better way forward.
Benjamin J. Montoya
McMaster Divinity College
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“gospel” (good news) that one must “believe” to secure salvation? Since, according
to Bates, “belief” or “faith,” or even “trust” are capable of such a bewildering (and
fuzzy) array of definitions and uses among would-be evangelists, he argues it’s far
better to employ a term that more adequately conveys what it really takes for a person
to enter the Kingdom of God. The bulk of the book then proceeds to defend the
view that “allegiance” far better expresses the New Testament view of what enables
a person to apprehend salvation. In short, nothing less than allegiance or loyalty to
Christ as King will secure salvation.
After showing what faith is not (an extremely important chapter), the author
engages in several chapters to elaborate what constitutes the “gospel” that one
must embrace to be saved—employing both Jesus and the Evangelists in the four
Gospels, as well as the writings of Acts and Paul. The “gospel” must not be equated
simply with “justification” but is much broader. As Bates sees things, the “gospel” as
outlined in the New Testament includes all the following elements and no explanation
of the gospel is complete without all of these: Jesus the King (1) preexisted with the
Father; (2) took on human flesh, fulfilling God’s promises to David; (3) died for sins
in accordance with the Scriptures; (4) was buried; (5) was raised on the third day in
accordance with the Scriptures; (6) appeared to many; (7) is seated at the right hand
of God as Lord; and (8) will come again as judge.
Then Bates shows that pistis (when used as the requirement for salvation) means
allegiance, drawing upon the evidence in the New Testament as well as contemporary
extra-biblical sources. He concludes that “the gospel is purposed toward bringing
about the practical obedience characteristic of allegiance to a king—what I have
termed enacted allegiance” (86; his italics). It’s important to add here that he does
not argue that “allegiance” best captures the sense of pistis in all its uses—only when
the acquisition of salvation is at stake. When Bates synthesizes the biblical data, he
arrives at this definition: “saving allegiance includes three basic dimensions: mental
affirmation that the gospel [the eight points in the prior paragraph] is true, professed
fealty to Jesus alone as the cosmic Lord, and enacted loyalty through obedience to
Jesus as the king” (p. 92). No kind of disembodied “faith” will save a person (e.g.,
only mental assent or a vague trust in Jesus who died for our sins), one must “do”
or “act” for faith to be genuine and truly salvific. The Bible emphasizes a believer’s
obedience, not merely one’s intellectual or psychological state of “believing.” In
support Bates points to the need for the “obedience of πίστις” (Rom 1:5; 16:26; cf.
15:18–19), and Jesus’ words that “only the one who does the will of my Father” will
enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt 7:21–23). Don’t mistake what Bates says here to
mean that our works or our righteousness is what saves. As will be clear below, he
asserts that believers are saved by virtue of Christ’s righteousness which becomes
our through our union or incorporation with him.
I think Bates might be hard-pressed to demonstrate that all uses of pistis when
employed as the requirement for salvation mean allegiance. For example, when asked
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Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
by the Philippian jailor, “What must I do to be saved?” Paul’s and Silas’ answer was,
“Believe [a form of the cognate verb pisteuō] on the Lord Jesus, and you will be
saved” (Acts 16:31; NRSV). From this short narrative it would be difficult to prove
that the apostles then explained to the jailor (and his household) all eight components
of the gospel and then summoned them to allegiance. More likely in that context the
jailor was urged to place his “trust” in Jesus. Nevertheless, Bates’ extended analyses
convincingly show that in those places where one may tease out the implications of
the uses of pistis and pisteuō, allegiance seems to be the likely meaning.
Bates anticipates that his proposal that salvation is by allegiance alone will
engender a variety of objections, so he seeks to respond to various questions. For
example, “If salvation is by grace (a gift), then how can it depend on allegiance
to Jesus?” (p. 102). [As an aside, on the question of the nature of “grace,” Bates
cites affirmingly John Barclay’s recent book, Paul and the Gift (Eerdmans, 2015).
Barclay overturns some of the standard and simplistic understandings of the nature
of grace. I highly recommend a careful reading of this book.] And Bates asks another
controversial question: Can salvation be “lost”? Well, if allegiance is required for
salvation, then, Bates concludes, one’s failure to continue to demonstrate loyalty to
Jesus will result in the forfeiture of salvation. One can’t “lose” salvation, but one may
jettison it.
Since allegiance to the King’s agenda is what salvation entails, then, Bates
argues, embodied loyalty leads to the vocation that each believer embraces: the
transformation of this world. The hope of the Christian is not to go to heaven when
one dies (note echoes of N.T. Wright here), but to join in God’s grand narrative of
salvation (my language) culminating in the resurrection and the renewal of all things
in the new creation. Allegiance gives meaning to one’s life now as well as a glorious
hope in the future.
As to the nature of “justification,” Bates addresses the issue that has historically
divided Protestants and Catholics since the Reformation. Many Protestants espouse
a kind of “imputed” righteousness while Catholics favor an “imparted” or “infused”
righteousness. Seeking a better way, Bates locates an individual’s justification in his
or her participation with or incorporation into Christ in the church. God vindicated
(justified) Christ by raising him from the dead. Christians are then justified when
they are incorporated into him. He questions whether the New Testament ever
teaches that Christ’s righteousness is imputed to individuals. Works are the necessary
component of saving faith, not merely the inevitable results of justification, which
Protestants often relegate to sanctification as a separate and subsequent step in the
ordo salutis (order of salvation). [On that point, Bates questions the validity of the
ordo salutis so prominent in many Reformed formulations, claiming it owes more
to systematic rather than biblical theology.] Nevertheless, he backs away from the
Catholics’ idea of infused righteousness, preferring, as I have just indicated, what he
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calls incorporated righteousness. Again, embodied allegiance is a requirement for
salvation, not merely a result.
In keeping with the incorporation model of righteousness, then, Bates decidedly
minimizes individual election to salvation and points to the Bible’s emphasis on the
corporate nature of election. He points out “… the election story the Bible wants to
tell: God’s election of the Messiah through Israel’s election in order to save Jew and
gentile alike within his elect church” (p. 171). People are saved by their incorporation
into Christ’s elect body, the church. The requirement for entrance into this body is a
pledge of allegiance to their Lord (King).
The book ends with a chapter entitled “Practicing Allegiance.” In it Bates offers
a suggestion about a better way to invite people to salvation—to do evangelism.
Unless people come to embrace the actual gospel (again, recall the eight points
above), they can’t be saved. He goes so far as to say, “We must stop asking others
to invite Jesus into their hearts and start asking them to swear allegiance to Jesus
the king” (199). He insists that we dare not give people “assurance” of salvation on
the basis of their acceptance of a gospel invitation, but base it on the evidence of
their loyalty to Jesus. Good works growing out of allegiance to Jesus secure genuine
salvation; it is not secured by praying a prayer to “accept Christ” whether or not a
person ever does good works.
At this point readers of this review will readily see why some of Bates’
conclusions will cause considerable dis-ease among many descendants of the
Reformation, particularly those of a Calvinist orientation. While Bates does not
reject, e.g., the rallying cry “Sola Fide,” he certainly challenges what fide (faith)
has traditionally meant for them. That is, for Bates only one who lives a life in
allegiance to the King possesses eternal salvation. While many might argue that
genuine salvation leads to or results in good works (again separating justification and
sanctification), Bates rejects that bifurcation. Only a “working faith” saves. Readers
will see a strong correlation to the appeal in James’ letter, and why Luther was so
unhappy with James’ formulation in contrast to Paul’s. This is precisely Bates’ point:
James had it right all along, and we should understand him to mean precisely what he
said! We must cease defining saving faith in any ways that strip works from its very
essence. To put it starkly, one must work to be saved, and if one finds that statement
heretical, Bates would ask readers to review the evidence in the NT that doers of the
word will be saved, and that judgment will be based on what one does (cf. Rom 2:6–7,
13; Rev 20:12–13).
Bates also sides with a growing minority of scholars who find in the Bible an
emphasis on the corporate nature of election and salvation—again in contrast to the
Reformation’s descendants who stress particular or individual election to salvation. I
think this is one of the strengths of the book, though it’s not a major point to be sure.
Likewise, I applaud his emphasis on the overarching scope of salvation that puts an
important emphasis on believers’ efforts to effect God’s agenda for the transformation
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of all things in Christ—both now and in the eschaton. Allegiance to Christ matters
now in bringing in the kingdom of God. That’s the point of salvation (and hence the
requirement of allegiance), not merely so that we can go to heaven when we die.
This is a crucial message for Christians and the church today: as loyal citizens of the
Kingdom of God we have a calling to promote Christ’s agenda in the world. We see
why good works are important and of the very essence of God’s salvation.
Of course, Bates is not alone, nor is he the first to point out the anemic results
of views of “faith” that may give people assurance of salvation (particularly when
coupled with a view of “once saved always saved”) but which produce little evidence
of changed lives. Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously wrote about “cheap grace” in his
Cost of Discipleship. But the value of Bates’ book lies in the ground-breaking work
of helping us see that we have misconstrued the nature of the πίστις required for
salvation (as Barclay helps us see that we may also have misconstrued “grace”).
Instead of insisting that people count the cost before they sign on as Jesus’ disciples
(as Jesus did, e.g., Luke 14:26–35; 18:17–25), in our eagerness to make converts we
may be too prone to present an inadequate (and perhaps vacuous) way to enter the
kingdom. We lower the bar of entry because we fail to grasp that Jesus requires
allegiance. The sober implications may well be that many people who think they are
saved might turn out not to be, and may find themselves among those Jesus identifies
at the end of his Sermon on the Mount: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’
will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father
who is in heaven” (Matt 7:21; NIV). May we by our actions show our loyalty to King
Jesus, and may we be eager to invite others to swear their allegiance to him as well.
Bottom line: I highly recommend this book. I don’t expect that readers will
endorse all of Bates’ conclusions or be as enthusiastic as I am about it. Of course,
one may take him to task at several points. But so much is at stake in these matters—
from an individual’s personal salvation to the church’s mandate to make disciples.
No doubt a careful interaction with this book will provoke fruitful discussions and
no little self-examination.
William W. Klein
Denver Seminary
224
Book Reviews
Trinitarian Ontology and Israel in Robert W. Jenson’s Theology by Sang Hoon Lee
(Reviewed by Clement Yung Wen).....................................................................................189
God and the Problem of Evil: Five Views edited by Chad Meister and James K. Dew Jr.
(Reviewed by R. T. Mullins)...............................................................................................192
Biblical Aramaic: A Reader & Handbook by Donald R. Vance, George Athas, Yael
Avrahami, and Jonathan G. Kline (Reviewed by Adam J. Howell)...................................194
The Miracles of Jesus: How the Savior’s Mighty Acts Serve as Signs of Redemption
by Vern S. Poythress (Reviewed by Joshua M. Greever)...................................................197
Rethinking the Concept of a Personal God: Classical Theism, Personal Theism, and
Alternative Concepts of God edited by Thomas Schärtl, Christian Tapp,
and Veronika Wegener (Reviewed by R. T. Mullins).........................................................200
Who Shall Ascend the Mountain of the Lord? A Biblical Theology of the Book of Leviticus
by Michael L. Morales (Reviewed by Joshua M. Philpot).................................................202
Interpreting Old Testament Wisdom Literature by David G. Firth and Lindsay Wilson
(Reviewed by Nicholas Majors).........................................................................................207
Agape Ethics: Moral Realism and Love for All Life by William Greenway
(Reviewed by Steve Sherman)............................................................................................209
225
Journal of Biblical and Theological Studies 3.1
Tough Questions about God and His Actions in the Old Testament by Walter C. Kaiser
(Reviewed by John A. McLean).........................................................................................212
An Anomalous Jew: Paul among Jews, Greeks, and Romans by Michael F. Bird
(Reviewed by Jonathon Lookadoo)....................................................................................215
Paul and Gender: Reclaiming the Apostle’s Vision for Men and Women in Christ
by Cynthia Long Westfall (Reviewed by Benjamin J. Montoya).......................................218
226
227