Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 48

Hymns We Should Sing More Often: O Word of God Incarnate

This is part of an intermittent series I’ve called “Hymns We Should Sing More Often.” The aim is to remind us (or introduce for the first time) excellent hymns that are probably not included in most church’s musical canon. A few hymns–like Holy, Holy, Holy or Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing—are familiar to many congregations and get sung in conferences and other large gatherings. Unfortunately, for a growing number of churches, there are no hymnals in the pews (or on the chairs), and consequently there is little opportunity to draw from the deep well of Christian hymnody. Most of the hymns in this series are not unfamiliar, just underutilized. I hope you will enjoy learning about these hymns as much as I have and enjoy singing them even more.

**********

I am always looking for good songs that can lead us into the preaching of God’s word, and this hymn does the trick. O Word of God Incarnate works well as a prayer of illumination or a prelude to it. It fits well into Sunday morning liturgy immediately before the sermon because it centers its hearers on the light we receive from the incarnate Word of God in the form of the Bible. The written Word is a “lantern to our footsteps”, which “shines from age to age”; it is the “chart and compass” that guides us through the perils of life to Christ. When the hymn was first published in 1867, Proverbs 6:23 was listed as its subheading—“For the commandment is a lamp and the teaching a light, and the reproofs of discipline are the way of life.”

William How (1823-1897), the author of the hymn, was ordained in the Church of England in 1847. He later became bishop in east London and in time came to be known as the “poor man’s bishop” and the “children’s bishop” because of his work among the poor and destitute in London. He wrote around 60 hymns in his lifetime, many of which were for children. Among How’s more well known hymns is For All the Saints.

The music that we sing How’s words to is from a Felix Mendelssohn arrangement of a tune that dates back to at least 1593. Mendelssohn set the old tune to new words and inserted it in his oratorio Elijah as the quartet “Cast Thy Burdens upon the Lord.” Mendelssohn was an accomplished musician and one of the great composers in the classical/romantic period.

O Word of God incarnate, O Wisdom from on high,

O Truth unchanged, unchanging, O Light of our dark sky;

we praise thee for the radiance that from the hallowed page,

a lantern to our footsteps, shines on from age to age.

The church from her dear Master received the gift divine,

and still that light she lifteth o’er all the earth to shine.

It is the golden casket, where gems of truth are stored;

it is the heav’n drawn picture of Christ, the living Word.

It floateth like a banner before God’s host unfurled;

it shineth like a beacon above the darkling world.

It is the chart and compass that o’er life’s surging sea,

‘mid mists and rocks and quicksands, still guides, O Christ, to thee.

O make thy church, dear Savior, a lamp of purest gold,

to bear before the nations thy true light, as of old.

O teach thy wand’ring pilgrims by this their path to trace,

till, clouds and darkness ended, they see thee face to face.

The Tolerance Jesus Will Not Tolerate

Christians cannot be tolerant of all things because God is not tolerant of all things. We can respect differing opinions and try to understand them, but we cannot give our unqualified, unconditional affirmation to every belief and behavior. Because God doesn’t. We must love what God loves. That’s where Ephesus failed. But we must also hate what God hates. That’s where Thyatira failed.

Of the seven cities in Revelation, Thyatira is the least well known, the least impressive, and the least important. And yet, the letter is the longest of the seven. There was a lot going on at this church–some bad, some good.

Let’s start with the good. Verse 19, “I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance.” Ephesus was praised for its good deeds and strong work ethic. Thyatira is even better.  Is has the deeds that Ephesus had and the love that Ephesus lacked. The church at Thyatira was not without genuine virtue. It was a tight-knit bunch who loved, served, believed, and endured.

Maybe Thyatira was the kind of church you walked into and immediately felt like you belonged: “Great to meet you. Come, let me introduce you to my friends.  Here, I’ll show you how you can get plugged in, use your gifts, do ministry. We’re so glad you’re here.” It was a caring church, a sacrificial church, a loving church.

That was the good part. And the bad part? Its love could be undiscerning and blindly affirming. The big problem at Thyatira was tolerance. The folks at Thyatira tolerated false teaching and immoral behavior, two things God is fiercely intolerant of. Jesus says, “You’re loving in many ways, but your tolerance is not love. It’s unfaithfulness.”

The specific sin in Thyatira was the tolerance of Jezebel. That wasn’t the woman’s real name. But this false prophetess was acting like a Jezebel-leading people into adultery and idolatry. We don’t know if her influence was formal–she got up in front of people and told them these deceptive things–or if it was informal–taking place in conversations and by word of mouth. However it was happening, this woman in Thyatira was a spiritual danger, like her Old Testament namesake.

Jezebel was the daughter of Ethbaal king of the Sidonians. She worshiped Baal and Asherah and led her husband, Ahab, in the same. Jezebel is the one who plotted to kill innocent Naboth for his vineyard. She was called “that cursed woman” (2 Kings 9:34). As a punishment for her wickedness, she was eventually pushed out a window, trampled by horses, and eaten up by dogs. She was a bad lady. And she lead many Israelites down a bad path.

Jesus says to Thyatira, “You are allowing a woman like that to have sway over your people. Why do you tolerate her? Don’t affirm her. Don’t dialogue with her. Don’t wait and see what happens. Get rid of her. . . .or I will.” Apparently, by some means, the Lord had already warned her to repent, but she refused. And so now the Lord Jesus promises to throw her onto the sick bed and make her followers suffer as well, unless they repent. “I will strike your spiritual children dead,” says the Lord. Jesus isn’t messing around here. This isn’t a secondary issue. This is a serious sin worthy of death.

It was also an entrenched sin. There were a number of trade guilds in Thyatira. Suppose you belonged to the local BAT, the Bricklayers Association of Thyatira, and one night the guild got together for a feast. You’d be sitting around the table, ready to partake of this great celebration with your friends and colleagues, and the host would say something like, “We’re glad you could make it. What a happy occasion for the BAT. We have quite a feast prepared for you. But before we partake, we want to recognize the great god Zeus who watches over the bricklayers and has made this dinner possible. Zeus, you see his statue in the corner, we eat to you, in your honor, for your worship. Let’s dig in.”

What would you do in that situation? Stay or go? What would your participation signify before your fellow Christians, before the watching world, before God? Christians in the ancient world didn’t have to go searching for idolatry. It was woven into the fabric of their whole culture. To not participate in these pagan rituals was to stick out like a Yankees fan at Fenway Park. These feasts, with their idolatry and the sexual revelry which would often follow, were a normal part of life in the Greco-Roman world. To remove yourself from them could be socially and economically disastrous.

Which is why false teachers like this Jezebel in Thyatira or the Nicolaitans in Pergamum gained such a hearing. They made being a Christian a lot easier, much less costly, must less counter-cultural. But it was a compromised Christianity, and Jesus could not tolerate it. He was going to make an example of Thyatira to show all the churches that Jesus has eyes like fire, too pure to look on evil, and feet like burnished bronze, too holy to walk among wickedness. He wanted all the churches to know that he was the searcher of hearts and minds and he would repay evil for unrepentant evil.

The error of Jezebel was a serious sin, an entrenched sin, and a subtle sin. The people had probably been told that the “deep secrets” wouldn’t harm them. We don’t know exactly what it meant for the church to learn Satan’s so-called deep secrets. We don’t know if that’s what the false teachers called them or if that’s what Jesus is calling them. But what was going on was probably some kind of false teaching that devalued the material world. This Jezebel may have been saying, “The physical world doesn’t matter. It’s the spiritual realm that counts. So go ahead and participate in idol feasts and do whatever you want sexually. Those are material things. God doesn’t care about that.” Or she may have been saying, “Look, if you are truly spiritual, then your relationship with God will be strong enough to withstand the deep things of Satan. So go ahead. Participate in evil practices. You can handle it and you’ll probably even learn more about the enemy in the process.” Whatever it was that she was saying, it was a lie and it was leading people into sin. The church was more tolerant than Jesus, which is never a good idea.

Monday Morning Humor

I think I’ve seen this episode. Several hundred times.

Five Questions about Sanctification and Good Works: Do Good Works Merit Eternal Life?

[image error]Throughout this week I have been walking through the five questions Francis Turretin tackles in his chapter on “Sanctification and Good Works” (Seventeenth Topic). Here are the five questions, slightly modified for ease of understanding:

How does sanctification differ from justification?
Can we fulfill the law absolutely in this life?
Are good works necessary to salvation?
Can justified believers do that which is truly good?
Do good works merit eternal life?

Today we look at our final question: Do good works merit eternal life?

The first thing to notice about this fifth question is that it’s not the same as the third question. When we hear the two questions as identical, we are bound to answer at least one of them incorrectly. For while good works are necessary to salvation, they do not merit eternal life.

We’re not going to get into the weeds of Roman Catholic theology and talk about merit of congruity and merit of condignity (Turretin rejects both). Let’s stick with the bigger, more relevant question about good works meriting eternal life. Here again, we need to parse our terms carefully.

The word “merit” is used in two ways: either broadly and improperly; or strictly and properly. Strictly, it denotes that work to which a reward is due from justice on account of its intrinsic value and worth. But it is often used broadly for the consecution of any thing. In this sense, the verb “to merit” is often used by the fathers put for “to gain,” “to obtain,” “to attain.” (XVII.v.1)

This is a crucial distinction and one that relates directly to the conversation surrounding Piper’s foreword. Here’s what Turretin is saying in effect: “Look, we have to realize that people use these words in different ways. Technically, merit means someone or something is given its due. In this sense, good works, even of the justified believer, do not merit eternal life. On the other hand, people sometimes use ‘merit’ more loosely, as another way of indicating sequence. So if B follows A, or if A is a condition for B, some people say that A gains, obtains, attains, or even merits B. This is not the best way to describe things, but many people, like the church fathers, mean to communicate nothing more than that eternal life is connected to good works in a necessary chain of events.”

Here’s what Piper said in his foreword to Schreiner’s new book:

[T]his book is dealing with treasures of immeasurable importance. Infinity cannot be measured. And infinite things are at stake. As Tom Schreiner says, the book “tackles one of the fundamental questions of our human condition: how can a person be right with God?”

The stunning Christian answer is: sola fide—faith alone. But be sure you hear this carefully and precisely: He says right with God by faith alone, not attain heaven by faith alone. There are other conditions for attaining heaven, but no others for entering a right relationship to God. In fact, one must already be in a right relationship with God by faith alone in order to meet the other conditions.

Given everything we know about Piper’s theology (including his passionate defense of a Reformation understanding of justification), and given the fact that he’s explicitly talking in these sentences about conditions and not merit, it is safe to assume that Piper is using “attain” with reference to a necessary sequence and does not mean to imply that there is an intrinsic worth in our good deeds that somehow makes heaven our due. Frankly, I would not use the language of “attaining heaven.” It is too easily misunderstood, and in the strictest sense comes too close to “merit.” Even “obtain” (which suggests getting or securing) would be better than “attain” (which suggests achieving or accomplishing). But I know what Piper means and agree with the point is he trying to make.

What does it mean for a good work to be meritorious in the strict sense? Turretin mentions five characteristics:

1. The work be “undue.” That is, we are not merely doing what we owe.

2. The work must be ours and not owing to the work of another.

3. The work must be absolutely perfect.

4. The work is equal to the payment made.

5. The payment or reward is owed us because of the intrinsic worth of the work. (XVII.v.6)

Clearly, our good works do not meet any of these requirements. Using a strict and proper understanding of “merit,” we must never conclude that our good works merit eternal life. For even our best works are (1) merely what we owe, (2) from God’s grace in us, (3) imperfect, (4) much less than the reward of eternal life, and (5) not worthy in and of themselves. Good works are necessary to salvation, but not in order to effect salvation or acquire it by right. The necessity is not of causality and efficiency (XVII.iii.3).

In short, while our good works are often praiseworthy in Scripture–pleasing to God and truly good–they do not win for us our heavenly reward. There is a true and necessary connection between good works and final glorification, but the connection is not one of merit.

Five Questions about Sanctification and Good Works: Can Justified Believers Do that which is Truly Good?

Throughout this week I will be walking through the five questions Francis Turretin tackles in his chapter on “Sanctification and Good Works” (Seventeenth Topic). Here are the five questions, slightly modified for ease of understanding:

How does sanctification differ from justification?
Can we fulfill the law absolutely in this life?
Are good works necessary to salvation?
Can justified believers do that which is truly good?
Do good works merit eternal life?

Today we come to our fourth question: Can justified believers do that which is truly good?

Before we answer that question, we need to understand what is required for a work to be truly good? Turretin mentions four things: 1) that the work be done from the faith of a renewed heart, 2) that the work be done according to the will of God revealed in his word, 3) that the work be done not just externally but internally from the heart, and 4) that the work be done to the glory of God (XVII.iv.5). This fairly standard Reformed definition implies that however decent and ethical the works of the non-Christian may be, they are still not truly good in the fullest sense (XVII.iv.6).

Reformed Christians sometimes make the mistake of thinking that if they are to be really Reformed they must utterly denigrate everything they do as Christians. To be sure, as we have seen, we cannot fulfill the law absolutely. Even our best works are full of weakness and imperfection. But here’s where the careful distinctions of scholastic theology are so helpful: good works can be truly good without being perfectly good. The answer to this fourth question is, “Yes, believers can do that which is truly good.” “We have proved before,” Turretin writes, “that the latter cannot be ascribed to the works of the saints on account of the imperfection of sanctification and the remains of sin. But the former is rightly predicated of them because though they are not as yet perfectly renewed, still they are truly good and unfeignedly renewed” (XVII.iv.9). In other words, there is another category for our good works besides “earning salvation” and “nothing but filthy rags.”

According to Turretin, there are at least three reasons why we must conclude that the works of believers can be truly good. First, because our good works are performed by a special motion and impulse of the Holy Spirit. Second, because Scripture repeatedly says that such works please God. And third, because the saints are promised a reward for their good works. If, in order to sound extra pious and humble, we insist that our good works are actually nothing of the sort, we end up making too little of the Spirit’s work in our lives and muting dozens of biblical texts. While it may be true that even our best deeds are still sins, in the sense that they are still not perfectly righteous, this does not mean that they cannot also be considered truly good in a different sense.

Our affirmation that all works (even the best) are not free from sin in this life does not destroy the truth of the good works of believers because although we affirm that as to mode they are never performed with that perfection which can sustain the rigid examination of the divine judgment (on account of the imperfection of sanctification), still we maintain that as to the thin they are good works. And if they are called sins, this must be understood accidentally with respect to the mode, not of themselves and in their own nature. (XVII.iv.13)

Got it? The good works of the believers can be truly good works, even if the mode in which they are done is imperfect. This distinction between truly good and perfectly good can put an end to a lot of fuzzy thinking about sanctification and help clear up a lot of confusion between Christians who too easily talk past each other because they lack the proper categories for saying what they really mean to say.

Five Questions about Sanctification and Good Works: Are Good Works Necessary to Salvation?

Throughout this week I will be walking through the five questions Francis Turretin tackles in his chapter on “Sanctification and Good Works” (Seventeenth Topic). Here are the five questions, slightly modified for ease of understanding:

How does sanctification differ from justification?
Can we fulfill the law absolutely in this life?
Are good works necessary to salvation?
Can justified believers do that which is truly good?
Do good works merit eternal life?

Today we come to Question #3: Are good works necessary to salvation?

If you’ve never read Turretin, you are really missing out. He’s not the easiest writer, and he doesn’t write the loftiest prose. But he is exceedingly careful. He defines his terms, dissects various opinions, and always makes clear what’s the real question he’s trying to answer.

So it’s not surprising that Turretin begins his discussion by noting that there are three main views when it comes to the necessity of good works. Some are like modern Libertines, who make good works arbitrary and indifferent. Others are like ancient Pharisees, who contend that works are necessary to justification. In trying to hold the middle ground between these two extremes, Turretin maintains, in keeping with “the opinion of the orthodox,” that good works are necessary but not according to the necessity of merit (XVII.iii.2). In other words, the question before us is not “whether good works are necessary to effect salvation or to acquire it of right” (we’ll get to that in the fifth question), but whether good works are “required as the means and way for possessing salvation.” It is in this last sense that Turretin affirms the necessity of good works (XVII.iii.3).

According to Turretin, the necessity of good works is proved from: (1) the command of God, (2) the covenant of grace, (3) the gospel, (4) the state of grace, and (5) the blessings of God. In the covenant of grace there are still stipulations and obligations (conditions, if you will). There are duties man owes to God and blessings that are connected to the exercise of these duties, even if–and this is important–God is the one who sees to it that these duties are carried out. Heaven cannot be reached without good works (Heb. 12:14; Rev. 21:27), which it is such good news that he who began a good work in us will be faithful to complete it (Phil. 1:6).

To insist on the necessity of good works is not to become a legalist or a neonomian. “Although we acknowledge the necessity of good works against the Epicureans,” Turretin observes, “we do not on this account confound the law and the gospel and interfere with gratuitous justification by faith alone. Good works are required not for living according to the law, but because we live by the gospel; not as the causes on account of which life is given to us, but as effects which testify that life has been given to us” (XVII.iii.15).

This question about the necessity of good works has often perplexed Christians. If, on the one hand, we say no, good works are not necessary, we can hardly make sense of the warnings and moral imperatives of the New Testament. But if we say good works are necessary to salvation, it can sound like we’ve suddenly made heaven the product of our effort and obedience. But that’s not what Hebrews 12:14 means, nor what Turretin means. Read carefully this paragraph:

Works can be considered in three ways: either with reference to justification or sanctification or glorification. They are related to justification not antecedently, efficiently and meritoriously, but consequently and declaratively. They are related to sanctification constitutively because they constitute and promote it. They are related to glorification antecedently and ordinatively because they are related to it as the means to the end. (XVII.iii.14)

That’s a mouthful, but really crucial and really wonderful. Good works are inextricably linked to justification, sanctification, and glorification, but they are related in different ways. Good works come after justification as a result and a declaration. Good works are identified with sanctification as its definition and cheerleader. And good works come before glorification as God’s appointed means to a divinely secured end. Or as Turretin puts it, “grace is glory begun, as glory is grace consummated” (XVII.iii.14).

Huh, I guess the guy does put out some lofty prose once in awhile.

Five Questions About Sanctification and Good Works: Can We Fulfill the Law Absolutely in this Life?

Throughout this week I will be walking through the five questions Francis Turretin tackles in his chapter on “Sanctification and Good Works” (Seventeenth Topic). Here are the five questions, slightly modified for ease of understanding:

How does sanctification differ from justification?
Can we fulfill the law absolutely in this life?
Are good works necessary to salvation?
Can justified believers do that which is truly good?
Do good works merit eternal life?

Today’s question is the second one: Can we fulfill the law absolutely in this life?

Of the five questions, this one has been the least controversial in recent Reformed discussions. As far as I can tell, the leading voices on all sides are agreed that the “perfection of sanctification” is not possible for fallen human beings on this side of heaven.

Interestingly, Turretin does think certain kinds of perfection are possible. The question about fulfilling the law absolutely is not about the perfection of sincerity (serving God with a whole heart), nor the perfection of parts (being sanctified in body and soul), neither is it about comparative perfection (that some believers would be more advanced than others), nor evangelical perfection (whereby God in paternal forbearance perfects our works with his grace).  Turretin affirms “all these species of perfections,” noting that the Bible often speaks of believers being “perfect” and “upright.” The question for Turretin is not about these things, but about legal perfection (XVII.ii.4).

Here’s Turretin in his own words:

The question returns to this–Can the renewed believer so carry on his own sanctification as to attain perfection (not only as to parts, but also as to degrees); and can he fulfill the law (not only mildly and evangelically, but also strictly and legally) and so copiously satisfy the divine law as to live not only without crime, but also without sin; and the law have nothing which is can accuse and condemn in him, if God should enter into judgment with him? The opponents affirm; we deny. (XVII.ii.7).

That we are unable to fulfill the law absolutely can be seen from several realities taught clearly in Scripture: the remains of sin in the believer in 1 John 1, the struggle between flesh and the Spirit in Romans 7, the unbearable yoke of the law in Acts 15, the command to pray daily for the remission of sins in the Lord’s Prayer, and the example of the saints throughout the Bible (XVII.ii.10-26). There are many ways in which the Bible does talk about the believer being obedient, righteous, and holy, but we must not understand any of these to imply that we can so fulfill the law that God has nothing proper against us were he to judge strictly and legally.

 

Five Questions about Sanctification and Good Works: How Does Sanctification Differ from Justification?

Over the last few weeks, there have been a number of posts in the Reformed blogosphere related to sanctification and good works. I won’t attempt to survey all the relevant posts, but the main ones include:

John Piper’s Foreword to Tom Schreiner’s new book where Piper notes in passing that though we are justified by faith alone, there are conditions for our final glorification such that we do not “attain” heaven by faith alone.
Mark Jones scanning the history of Reformed dogmatics and writing in support of Piper.
Rick Phillips reminding us that “James, Is, You Know, In the Bible.”
And R. Scott Clark sounding a contrary note with more than a dozen related posts, including ones on attaining heaven through faith alone, conditions in the covenant of grace, and whether Hebrews 12:4 teaches sanctification by works.

I’m not going to attempt to sift through all the arguments in these posts. Readers familiar with my writings can (rightly) guess that I am sympathetic to the points John, Mark, and Rick are making (though I also appreciate what Scott wants to guard against and am grateful for his attention to the careful language of older Reformed sources). But instead of engaging in a point-counterpoint I thought it might be helpful to take a step back and look at five questions about sanctification and good works. The five questions (and answers) are distilled from Francis Turretin’s Institute of Elenctic Theology. It’s amazing not only how careful Turretin was with his distinctions, but also how relevant his discussions are for our own day.

Throughout this week I will be walking through the five questions Turretin tackles in his chapter on “Sanctification and Good Works” (Seventeenth Topic). Here are the five questions, slightly modified for ease of understanding:

How does sanctification differ from justification?
Can we fulfill the law absolutely in this life?
Are good works necessary to salvation?
Can justified believers do that which is truly good?
Do good works merit eternal life?

First up, how does sanctification differ from justification?

Turretin makes clear that he is not talking about sanctification as a broad term describing the Christian’s position as set apart for God. Rather, he is talking about sanctification in the narrow sense usually assumed by theologians: namely, the renovation of man by which God takes the in-Christ, justified believer and transforms him more and more into the divine image (XVII.i.2-3). Importantly, Turretin argues that sanctification can be understood “passively,” inasmuch as the transforming work “is wrought by God in us,” and also “actively,” inasmuch as sanctification “ought to be done by us, God performing this work in us and by us” (XVII.i.3). This is a crucial point. Sanctification is not understood correctly if we do not understand that God is doing the work in us, but at the same time we are also working. Any theology that ignores either the active or passive dimension of sanctification is getting it wrong.

Justification and sanctification must not be confused. The most serious, and potentially damning errors, surface when the two are not carefully distinguished. So how do justification and sanctification differ?

They differ with regard to their object. Justification is concerned with guilt; sanctification with pollution.
They differ as to their form. Justification is a judicial and forensic act whereby our sins are forgiven and the righteousness of Christ is imputed to us. Sanctification is a moral act whereby righteousness is infused to the believer and our internal renovation is affected.
They differ as to the recipient subject. In justification, man is given a new objective status based on God’s acquittal. In sanctification, we are subjectively renewed by God.
They differ as to degrees. Justification is given in this life fully, without any possible increase. Sanctification is begun in this life but only made perfect in the next. The declaration of justification is once for all. The inward work of sanctification takes place by degrees.
They differ as to the order. God only sanctifies those who are already reconciled and justified by faith. (XVII.i.10)

There has been a lot of discussion about whether sanctification is by faith alone. I’ve argued before that “sanctification by faith alone” is not the best phrase to use, not least of all because it can lead to confusion about the absolutely essential affirmation that “justification is by faith alone.” There is a sense in which “sanctification by faith alone” can be a true statement. Is sanctification is a gift that only comes to those who put their faith in Christ? Yes and Amen. But the “by” in “justification by faith alone” is not the same as the “by” in “sanctification by faith alone.” Both justification and sanctification are by faith, but whereas faith is the instrument through which we receive the righteousness of Christ, faith is the root and principle out of which and sanctification grows (XVII.i.19). We say that justification is by faith alone, because we want to safeguard justification from any notion of striving or working. But sanctification explicitly includes these co-operations (XV.v.1-2), making the description of “alone” misleading at best and inaccurate at worst.

Monday Morning Humor

The New Pastor’s Handbook

In addition to being a great friend and associate pastor, Jason Helopoulos is a fine writer who has written another excellent book. If you’ve read Jason’s earlier book on family worship or any number of his popular posts on this site, you know that his writing is inevitably pastoral, practical, and accessible. This book is no exception.

The New Pastor’s Handbook: Help and Encouragement for the First Years of Ministry (Baker) is exactly the sort of book I wanted to read when I was starting out in the ministry. With 48 bite-sized chapters on topics like calling, candidating, reading, using your time wisely, busyness, thankfulness, visitation, discontentment, discouragement, envy, and the privilege of ministry, I’m sure every pastor (of any age) can be helped and encouraged by this book. Interested church members who spend even a half hour in these pages will get a feel for the unique challenges and joys of pastoral ministry.

To give you a sense of what Jason is up to , I’ve pasted chapter 16 below. It’s entitled “Lose Control: Equip the Saints.”

On the heels of chapter 15, this chapter title might strike you as contradictory to my previous discussion about leadership. However, it is essential that these two chapters be understood as complementary and equally necessary. As a pastor, you have to lose control. Perhaps many of you are ready to turn the page and skip to the next chapter. You are a natural leader and have sought leadership opportunities your entire life. You know, love, and thrive on control. Hearing someone say “Lose control” seems foolish.

However, losing control is the very thing that we must do in the pastorate. When I say, “Lose control,” I don’t mean that we should stop leading. As I discussed in the previous chapter, our local church needs leadership; pastors are to lead. However, we don’t need to lead everything. Moses learned this lesson from his father-in-law, Jethro (Exod. 18), and it is a lesson that many of us can apply as well. Seeking to control all the decisions, ministries, and programs of the local church will kill you, your church, and your ministry. You will burn out, your church will become immature, and people will stop following. Lose some control and be at peace with it. In truth, the ability to let go points to good leadership.

We are “pastors and teachers” (Eph. 4:11 ESVmg.), and our duty does not include controlling everything. Rather, our duty is to “equip the saints for the work of ministry” (Eph. 4:12). We are failing if our ministry does not equip the saints and provide them with the opportunity to use their gifts. Mature pastoral leaders entrust others with areas of responsibility.

Likewise, we shouldn’t personally jump to meet every ministry need. If we fill the void on every occasion, others will never step up. The pastor who complains that his elders never visit anyone in the hospital but is at the bedside of every congregant before their anesthesia has worn off is the cause of his own complaint. He is too controlling, and his church suffers as a result. If you serve a church of a few hundred or more, you probably won’t know everyone, and you surely can’t personally minister to everyone. Let that be all right. Trust that the Lord will use other dear brothers and sisters in the church. We equip the saints to serve and minister to one another. We don’t have to do it all. In fact, we shouldn’t do it all.

The wise pastor understands that no matter how much he may “feel” in control, the reality is that he has very little control indeed! We serve a sovereign God and have been given the privilege of serving as undershepherds, but we are not the Shepherd. He is. The more clearly we realize this, the more readily it will be expressed in our actions and philosophy of ministry as we seek to empower others and “lose control.”

The New Pastor’s Handbook has nice blurbs from Albert Mohler, Alistair Begg, Bob Bouwer, Burk Parsons, Joe Thorn, Aubrey Malphurs, and Tim Challies, plus a 5-page Foreword from Ligon Duncan. Check out the book and see if there isn’t plenty of “help and encouragement for the first years of ministry.”