Jared C. Wilson's Blog, page 14

The Gospel-Shaped Pastor

Pastors are a motley bunch of souls. We represent different personalities and tribes, different methodologies and styles, not to mention denominations, traditions, and theologies. But I’ve learned over the years that there is something many of us all have in common—a profound sense of insecurity for which the only antidote is the gospel.

It’s easy to succumb to the temptation to compare one’s ministry to that of another pastor, or give in to the need to impress others and be liked.

The only remedy for these ministry idolatries and all others is the gospel because it announces, among many things, we are justified, accepted, loved, and satisfied by God in Christ.

Until pastors discover and embrace their identity in Christ—which is accomplished by Christ and received by faith, not works—they will keep trying to find their identity in their position, their preaching, their persona, and their programs.

While every pastor would affirm the gospel’s centrality to their ministry, we still need to remind each other this isn’t just some religious formality. Knowing how Christ’s finished work works in our own lives and ministries is vitally important.

So how do we become a “gospel-shaped pastor”? How (and why) should we keep the good news of the finished work of Christ at the center of our hearts and the forefront of our minds? There are many reasons, but here are four of the more important ones.

1. Remember the gospel so you will have the power you need.

In the trenches of day-to-day ministry work, it can become tragically easy to think of the whole thing as a managerial enterprise. We plan and program, we mentor and coach, we write and preach. The relational work of ministry is taxing. Studying takes its toll.

Nearly every pastor I know has been wearied by ministry. For this reason, we need to remember Christianity is not some ordinary religious methodology. It is supernatural.

We pray because we aren’t in control. We preach the Scriptures because only God’s Word can change hearts. We share the gospel because only the grace of Christ can bring the dead to life. We have to remember who we are in Christ or we will go on ministry autopilot, assuming we’re working under our own power.

Knowing the power of the gospel (Romans 1:16, 1 Thessalonians 1:5) means the weakness of the pastor is no hindrance to the Lord at all. In fact, the very idea of Christianity presupposes human inability and weakness. Paul goes so far as to boast in his weakness, knowing that when he is weak, Christ is strong (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

We’re told that a Korean pastor once visited the United States and was asked what he thought of the American church, to which he replied, “It is amazing what the church in America can do without the Holy Spirit.” May this never be said of us!

If we pursue pastoral ministry in our own strength, trusting in our own selves, we will be in big trouble. Our churches will be devastated, and so will we.

No, let us remember all that we are is because of Christ, and apart from him, we can do nothing. This reality will empower our leadership and our preaching and achieve real spiritual impact.

2. Remember the gospel so you won’t be puffed up by success.

Because we are sinners, we are prone to taking more credit than we deserve. For the pastor, especially, the temptation grows to embrace the wrong kind of pride when things begin to go well in a church. It’s fine to “be proud of” our churches. Paul often tells the churches they are “his boast.” But he says this to encourage them and celebrate their growth, not to take credit for it!

When we implement a program and it takes off, isn’t it tempting to believe we can program success? And when we receive great feedback on our sermons, isn’t it tempting to believe spiritual impact comes from our well-turned phrases more than God’s inspired Word? Maybe this isn’t so for you, but it is for me. Success can be dangerous, especially for leaders.

When we remember our identity in Christ, we recall it is he who has made us, and not we ourselves (Psalm 100:3). When we remember the gospel, it is impossible to get puffed up by success because the gospel is so humbling. It puts us in our place, while at the same time giving us great confidence. This is especially necessary when it’s not success we are experiencing, but failure.

3. Remember the gospel so you won’t be devastated by failure.

I have pastored a church that tripled in attendance in a few short years and launched well-received program after program. And I’ve pastored a church that held people like a sieve, with new decline around every corner. I’m here to tell you neither was easier than the other. Both were equally tempting of the pride inside my heart.

The great thing about centering on the gospel of Jesus Christ for pastoral ministry is it helps guard against pride amid success, and it helps guard against despair amid failure.

In lean times, we can become despondent about our ministries and get wrapped up in sulking and self-pity. Or we can turn angry and defensive. The gospel is so calibrating. When we focus on who we are in Christ, his glory washes away our ministry idols with tsunami-like force.

Focusing on Christ’s glory changes us (2 Corinthians 3:18), even when there is no noticeable gain in ministry life. Think of Isaiah in the temple, for instance (Isaiah 6), or any of the other prophets. Think of how single-minded they were in God’s work and his character in the midst of exile and captivity, when times were low.

Knowing we belong to God, knowing we are united to Christ, knowing we are justified—not on the basis of our ministry success, but on the basis of Christ’s—is hugely satisfying and supernaturally encouraging.

Pastor, you need the gospel’s clearing of the air, especially when the dust cloud of ministry rubble surrounds you. And one important way the gospel clears the air is by helping us correctly define success.

4. Remember the gospel so you will know how to measure success.

Growing a big church. Leading a growing staff. Preaching exceptional sermons. These are all admirable. But none of them is anything the Bible actually calls us to do. That doesn’t make them wrong goals. It just means we shouldn’t tune our hearts to our relative success in them.

No, the Bible calls pastors to do only a few important things: make disciples, feed the sheep, equip the saints. This means it’s not the pastor’s job to be successful, but to be faithful.

Pastor, may the Lord grant you incredible success. We can even pray he would help us be successful in the things he’s called us to do. But let us pray more often and more fervently that he would keep us faithful. No one gets into heaven because of a big church or a dynamic preaching style. No one gets the crown because of book deals or speaking platforms or social media followers. We are saved by grace alone.

Reflecting on his time in Corinth, Paul writes these incredible words:

What then is Apollos? And what is Paul? They are servants through whom you believed, and each has the role the Lord has given. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. (1 Corinthians 3:5-7)

Big budgets and big buildings are not the true measure of our ministry’s success. The true measure is the faithfulness with which we both trusted in and led people to the glory of the risen Christ. True ministry success comes not from our increasing, but from Christ’s (John 3:30).

This is why it’s important to remember our identity in Christ—because we are “not anything.” Only God is. Let us pastor ourselves in and pastor others to that reality.

Where I’ll Be, Winter 2018

Every now and then, for those who are interested, I share selections from my upcoming speaking dates. If you’re in any of these areas and able to attend, would be great to meet you.

January 21, 2018 – Christ Redeemer Church (at Sunapee). New London, NH. I’ll be preaching the 9 a.m. service.

January 21, 2018 – Christ Redeemer Church. Hanover, NH. I’ll be preaching the 10:15 a.m. service.

January 21, 2018 – Pastors’ Seminar. Hanover, NH. I’ll be delivering a keynote talk and doing a Q&A session at this event for ministry leaders hosted at Christ Redeemer Church – 1:00-5:00 p.m.

January 25, 2018 – For The Church, Jacksonville. Jacksonville, FL. I’ll be speaking at Midwestern Seminary’s FTC pre-conference event before the annual Jacksonville Pastors’ Conference.

January 26-27, 2018 – READY Conference. Kansas City, MO. If you’re looking for a great gospel-centered event to bring your students to, this is it.

February 2-3, 2018 – Downline Summit. Memphis, TN. Join me, Tim Keller, Mark Dever, Trillia Newbell and more.

February 23-24, 2018 – BUILD Men’s Conference. Grand Haven, MI.

View complete listing of speaking engagements here. And if you’re interested in having me speak or preach at your church or event, inquiries may be sent via this page.

Thoughts on the Restoration of Fallen Pastors

When a pastor has disqualified himself from his ministry, is he disqualified from ministry altogether? If so, for how long? Forever? Can he ever be restored? If so, how soon?

These sorts of questions are not new, but they do seem more relevant than ever. While there are lots of articles out there on “fallen pastors,” I’ve been surprised to discover few deal with these questions in an in-depth way. I won’t pretend to provide a comprehensive treatment of this difficult subject in this post, but I do want to share some biblical reflections and practical implications I’ve been ruminating on for a while. This subject hits fairly close to home, as I think it does for many. It behooves us to think carefully and biblically about these matters.

What Disqualifies a Pastor?

What I find interesting these days is not how many pastors have fallen into disqualification but how many have not. We live in a day and age where any guy with a speaking gift and an entrepreneurial, creative spirit can plant a church and even be successful with it. But gifting is not qualification. Some seem to discuss this subject as if we do not have clear biblical guidance on what qualifies a man for the office of elder/pastor. Except that we do. Here is a rough list, a composite from the three primary qualification passages (1 Timothy 3, Titus 1, and 1 Peter 5):

1. Sexually/maritally faithful

2. Good manager of household

3. Humble

4. Gentle

5. Sober

6. Peaceful

7. Financially responsible

8. Hospitable

9. Self-controlled

10. Upright in character

11. Committed to holiness

12. Able to teach

13. Spiritually mature (not a new convert)

14. Respectable (and respected by outsiders)

15. A good example to the flock

Evangelicals seem to most often discuss disqualification as it relates to adultery—which, to be clear, is disqualifying!—but we rarely bring in the disqualification conversation as it relates to short-tempered, argumentative, or otherwise un-self-controlled pastors. The “fall” of Mark Driscoll is probably the closest my particular tribe has come to reckoning with the full-fledged (dis)qualifications for ministry, but it is still not a widely understood concept in the age of the celebrity minister. In fact, I think in many tribes and traditions, the “other biblical qualifications for ministry” have been neglected for a long time. How else to explain that it is typically only once a domineering, financially irresponsible, unsober pastor commits adultery that he is finally removed from his office?

The bottom line is that the bar for the pastoral office is set rather high. It is not open to anybody who “feels called.” Beyond giftedness and ambition, it requires maturity, testing, and a long obedience in the same direction. Because of this, when a pastor has become disqualified, we are dealing with a problem at a different level than even the serious problem of discipline-worthy sins among the laity. It’s not because pastors are supposed to be super-Christians or have more favor with God than laypeople, but rather that the leadership office demands a higher standard.

Can Disqualified Pastors Be Restored?

The first thing we should say is that we are often talking about two different kinds of restoration without knowing it. Many of evangelicalism’s problems with the scandals of celebrity pastors who disqualify themselves stem from an inability—an unwillingness?—to distinguish between a restoration to vocational ministry from a restoration to the fellowship. In regards to the latter, the answer ought to be an unequivocal yes. Any believer who has fallen morally, pastor or not, ought to be fully restored to the Christian community, given their repentance and the restoration process of their church.

This is why we must be careful with our criticism, as well! Sometimes when we argue against the restoration of certain ministers to the pulpit, it sounds as though we are denying their ability to rejoin the fellowship of believers. And sometimes when we are upset about the high standard some set for the pulpit, we call others graceless when they are in fact ready to welcome any repentant sinner to the warmth of Christian fellowship.

What we are talking about here is more specifically this: Can a pastor who has disqualified himself in some way be restored to the pastoral office? In other words: Can a disqualified pastor become re-qualified? This is a rather controversial question in and of itself, as for many, the how and when are non-starters because they answer “no” to this first consideration. For instance, John MacArthur writes:

There are some sins that irreparably shatter a man’s reputation and disqualify him from a ministry of leadership forever. Even Paul, man of God that he was, said he feared such a possibility. In 1 Corinthians 9:27 he says, “I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified.”

When referring to his body, Paul obviously had sexual immorality in view. In 1 Corinthians 6:18 he describes it as a sin against one’s own body—sexual sin is in its own category. Certainly it disqualifies a man from church leadership since he permanently forfeits a blameless reputation as a one-woman man (Proverbs 6:33; 1 Timothy 3:2).

I tread lightly here, but I’m going to disagree with Pastor MacArthur. First, if a previous sin forever disqualifies a man, Paul would have already been disqualified for his life of murderous persecution of Christians. Certainly sin committed after one is in union with Christ is in a certain way more serious than sin committed pre-conversion—not serious as in damnable, of course, but serious as in contrary to the new nature—but if any person could ever be deemed forever blameworthy, that would seem to preclude them even from the fellowship. Grace either covers all sin repented of, or it covers none.

I also do not find MacArthur’s exegetical case convincing. He puts 1 Corinthians 9:27 in the context of 1 Corinthians 6:18 to argue Paul has in mind sexual immorality. But that does not seem at all to be what Paul is talking about in the immediate context of chapter 9. Verse 27 caps off a long explanatory passage on Paul’s missional philosophy, teasing out his concern to be “all things to all people” (v. 22). He does of course mention “self-control” (v. 25), but it is in relation to training. This does not exclude any consideration of guarding against sexual immorality, of course, but the “disqualification” referred to in v. 27 doesn’t seem to be connected to a moral failing but a missional one. In other words, it appears from the trajectory of his reasoning throughout the chapter that the “qualification” in question is about commending himself to both Jew and Greek (vv. 19-23). He does not want to fall short of missional versatility. This is why he spills a lot of ink earlier in the passage on payment for ministry and the like. He then goes on to discuss his discipline in relation to the ceremonial law as a missional consideration. He is speaking largely to contextualization and personal usability. With this is mind—again—we do not take sexual propriety entirely out of the equation, but it would seem that the disqualification he has in mind is more to do with disqualifying himself from access to preaching to people groups (as he mentions in the verse in question) than disqualification from the ministry entirely. I take the immediate context to be of more guidance in understanding 9:27 than I do a verse three chapters previous.

All of that said, we obviously know sexual immorality is disqualifying for pastors because of the more direct references that give us the biblical qualifications for ministry. One of these is found, as MacArthur mentions, in 1 Timothy 3:2. But the question we’re really asking is if this disqualification is permanent. Even if we take 1 Corinthians 9:27 to refer to a moral failing, it says nothing about the permanence of such a disqualification. MacArthur adds the word “permanently” to his exposition, but it is not found in the text. What we can agree on, I assume, is that those who seek qualification for pastoral ministry—according to 1 Timothy 3, Titus 1, and 1 Peter 5—must have a well-established reputation for and widespread affirmation of the qualities listed therein. (I’m going to come back to that last sentence in a minute, so don’t forget it.)

On this subject, another Pastor John Piper writes:

Is it possible to restore a pastor who sinned sexually but who is repentant? Or is such a pastor disqualified because he no longer meets the qualification of being “above reproach”?

I’m afraid if I answer this the way that I should, it will give so much license to restore pastors too quickly. But since I should, I should.

Ultimately, I think the answer is yes. A pastor who has sinned sexually can be a pastor again. And I say that just because of the grace of God and the fact that “above reproach” can be restored, probably.

I agree with Piper on this, and I think there is a lot entailed in the “probably” we should tease out. But first, do we have any biblical precedent for the restoration of a fallen pastor? Well, in fact, of a certain kind we do.

What Does the Restoration of Peter Tell Us About the Restoration of Disqualified Pastors?

Let’s be clear here that we are not discussing relational conflicts or a ministerial “falling-out.” Some speak this way about Peter’s denial of Christ and the subsequent reunion with his Lord, but this does not do justice to the terrible sin Peter has committed. On the other hand, we have a few examples in Acts and in some of Paul’s epistles referring to intramural debates and relational conflicts that prompt the parting of ways between ministers of the gospel, but Paul does not refer to those men as being disqualified from ministry. (He does speak that way about those one-time ministers who embraced heresy or otherwise “fell away” from the faith, of course.) So we have to put Peter’s denial of Jesus in the right category.

Jesus has warned, “But whoever denies me before others, I will also deny him before my Father in heaven” (Matthew 10:33). This makes the public denial of Jesus (by any believer) a denial of eternal impact. Compounding this, Peter was even told by Jesus he would do this, and Peter gave his word he would not (Matthew 26:35), so now we have a betrayed trust on top of a betrayed witness. Can we agree that any minister who denies even knowing Jesus when put on the spot has entered disqualification territory? With this in mind, let’s revisit the restoration scene found in John 21:15-19:

When they had eaten breakfast, Jesus asked Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”

“Yes, Lord,” he said to him, “you know that I love you.”

“Feed my lambs,” he told him. A second time he asked him, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord,” he said to him, “you know that I love you.”

“Shepherd my sheep,” he told him.

He asked him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

Peter was grieved that he asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

“Feed my sheep,” Jesus said. “Truly I tell you, when you were younger, you would tie your belt and walk wherever you wanted. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will tie you and carry you where you don’t want to go.” He said this to indicate by what kind of death Peter would glorify God. After saying this, he told him, “Follow me.” (vv.15-19)

Is this scene instructive in any way for the consideration of pastoral restoration? Even though it is not a didactic passage but rather a narrative, I think so.

First, the larger point is that restoration for sinners is possible! Glory! This is simply, for all believers, a wonderful picture of the gospel. Why did Jesus repeat the question three times? There is no significance in the linguistic difference in the “loves” (agape, phileo), as that appears to be a literary penchant of John’s, but rather Jesus is echoing and thereby covering Peter’s threefold denial. The gist? You cannot out-sin the grace of God. As far as your sin may go, the gospel goes further still.

Second, it seems obvious to me that the restoration in view here is not simply to the fellowship but also to leadership. Some proponents of permanent disqualification miss the gravity of what is taking place in this beautiful moment. The interjection between each question and answer of “Feed/tend my lambs” would seem to indicate that Peter is not simply being restored to “good graces” with Jesus but also to the ministerial office. He is certainly not dismissed from his apostleship and of course goes on to preach and write authoritatively. This is after he has publicly denied knowing Jesus.

Third, beyond those two primary facts—restoration is graciously total and re-qualification for ministry is possible—everything else we deduce about restoration from this passage must be an inference. For instance, some argue from Peter’s restoration scene that restoration to ministry can be—dare we say, should be?—immediate. It is to this question that I turn next.

How Soon Can Fallen Pastors Be Restored?

If not never, when? Some say, citing Jesus’s restoration of Peter, immediately. I think not.

To discern from Peter’s restoration a “Jesus and me” approach to pastoral qualification is to miss the robust ecclesiology embedded in John 21 and provided throughout the rest of the Scriptures. There are two important elements in John 21 that are at the least necessary prerequisites for restoration of fallen pastors: (a) godly grief (21:7) and (b) the verdict of the congregation as representative of Christ on earth (Matthew 16:19).

To put it bluntly, Jesus is not here in person to tell us, “Yeah, this guy’s ready.” So what do we have? We have his word (the Bible), and we have his body (the church). The answer to the question, “How soon can a fallen pastor be restored?” cannot really be answered definitively in terms of time-frame. It may take some longer than others. Some may not ever be restored. The point is—it’s not really up to them. The restoration is performed, as in all discipline cases, by the church where the disqualification has taken place. There are too many factors that may be involved in different cases. But I think we can say “not immediately,” for these reasons:

1. Discerning godly grief is necessary. Peter’s grief is especially noted. How can we know this grief is godly grief (2 Corinthians 7:10) and not simply grief over being found out (or “caught”), or worse, a feigned sincerity meant to fool? Well, Jesus himself cannot be fooled. He could look right into Peter’s heart and see his repentance. The church, as Christ’s representative in matters of church discipline today, is of course not omniscient. We determine repentance credible in a variety of ways and act accordingly. Typically, church discipline processes involve steps members must submit to in order to show their cooperation and demonstrate their grief over their sin. For repentant adulterers, this can entail things like opening up their phones and email to their hurt spouse, cutting of all contact with their affair partner, and so on. For habitual porn users, it can involve installing software. For members disciplined for all kinds of sins, it may involve regular meeting with an accountability partner and/or a counselor. The stipulations vary, but steps toward restoration are held out.

Some may say that is not very gracious, but biblical church discipline is not punitive or condemnatory. It is in fact a grace applied. Most folks acknowledge we don’t restore unrepentant members to the fellowship. So once we make repentance a requirement, we’re necessarily asking, “How do you know if one is repentant?” Obviously there are ways to create an interminable succession of legalistic hoops for someone to jump through. That is graceless. We are simply discerning repentance. That is biblical, and it is gracious because there are more parties at stake than simply the sinner in question—there is the body, the reputation of the church, and the credibility of our witness for Christ. No single sinner is above all of these considerations and to treat them so is to deny grace to others. No, properly administered, discipline is a grace (Hebrews 12:11).

2. Restoration to the fellowship is not the same as restoration to the pastorate. For any person who has fallen into discipline-worthy sin, restoration to the fellowship can be relatively immediate. I say “relatively” because of the considerations above. But paying penance is not a biblical virtue. Like the father in the parable, we seek with love the restoration of every wayward member, pastor or not, and run to receive them when they indicate interest in returning to the family. But, again, restoration to the fellowship is not the same as restoration to the pastorate. Remember those qualifications?

3. Peter did not restore himself. The church, as Christ’s representative, must affirm the qualifications of any person to the office of pastor. Christ in person can qualify a man immediately or immediately restore that man once he’s fallen. Christ’s church, however, has further instruction on how we can make these determinations. To return to an earlier claim: those who seek qualification for pastoral ministry—according to 1 Timothy 3, Titus 1, and 1 Peter 5—must have a well-established reputation for and widespread affirmation of the qualities listed therein. And those qualifications are not things that can be determined in immediate fashion. They aren’t determined quickly when we establish a pastor in the first place, and they shouldn’t be jumped over when we consider the restoration of a pastor who’s disqualified himself.

You cannot tell if someone is a good manager of a household the first time you meet him. You see the witness of his family life over time. Similarly, when a guy cheats on his wife, you don’t determine he’s a good family man soon after the revelation. It will take more time, given the offense, to see him walk in repentance, to gain that reputation back. This is the case with any point of disqualification, although of course some levels of discernment can occur more quickly than others. It is not an immediate thing for a pastor disqualified for a long pattern of verbal abuse or coarse jesting to gain a reputation as a gentle, peaceful man. It is probably less still for a pastor disqualified for a pattern of alcohol addiction or sexual immorality to gain a reputation as sober-minded or a “one-woman man.”

This is parallel to the biblical qualification of “not being a new convert.” Obviously we are speaking to a (presumably) Christian person who is newly repentant, but the underlying principle is the same. Repentance is an immediate reentry to the fellowship, but re-entry to the pastorate takes the testing of time.

This is not graceless. It is how Christ protects his church and, incidentally, how he protects repentant sinners from rushing too soon back into the same pressures that revealed their undeveloped character to begin with.

Even if a pastor in view of restoration is planning to assume the pulpit of another church or plant a new church, his restoration to ministry should still be affirmed by his previous community. There are some extreme cases where this may not be possible, but it should be normative for disqualified leaders humbly submitting to discipline.

So, how soon? I don’t know. Not never. Not immediately. Somewhere in between, given the time by the church to discern and affirm one’s qualification. I track, again, with John Piper:

Forgiveness comes quickly, expensively, and immediately, on repentance. But trust doesn’t, cannot.

If a pastor has betrayed his people, and it has wounded a church grievously and wounded his wife grievously, he can be forgiven just like that. Wiped away. The blood of Jesus covers it. But as far as reestablishing trust, which is essential to a shepherd/sheep and wife/husband relationship, how long does that take? A decade? It takes a long time, a long time, until memories are healed.

And very practically I think this is what I would say: A man who commits adultery, say, in the ministry, should immediately resign and look for other work. And he should make no claim on the church at all. He should get another kind of job and go about his life humbly receiving the discipline and sitting and receiving ministry, whether in that church or in another church. And then the church should turn that around if it believes it should, not him.

Let us remember, friends, that none of us who enjoys the privilege of ministering the gospel is greater than Christ’s church, locally or universally. We may have been given a platform, but we are of service to him and at his disposal. We are to be subject to the church.

The gospel is not expendable. But our ministries are. If you are a fallen pastor eager for restoration to ministry, I urge you not to see your time away or the discipline involved in the meantime as graceless. It in fact may be your next lesson in just how big God’s grace really is. You may cheapen grace rushing back into that pulpit, assuming you can only be validated by a return to platform, if only because you remain unwilling to see just how greatly grace can sustain you and satisfy you outside of the spotlight. He is good enough to supply your every need.

Our Pastoral Residency Program Reading List

Liberty Baptist Church recently launched our Pastoral Training Center, an 18-month residency program for men training for ministry. Currently 13 guys are working through the program, most of them students at Midwestern. These guys are getting a variety of degrees — BA, MDiv, MTS, PhD. Because our residency is designed to complement seminary training, not reproduce it, we focus more on ministry discipleship — mentoring, coaching (one-on-one and in group meetings), shadow opportunities with our pastors, and ministry opportunities in the church — than we do academic heavy-lifting. But all residents do read a book each month and write papers. (The few guys who are not students have to read a bit more.)

A few people have asked me here and there if I could share our reading list, and I’m glad to do so below. Keep in mind this is the schedule for our first run-through. It may get tweaked before our next residency session begins in 2019.

We have broken down the 18 months into sessions with specific foci. Each required book translates into one month.

The Gospel

Required for all:

The Gospel by Ray Ortlund

Gospel Wakefulness by Jared Wilson

The Whole Christ by Sinclair Ferguson

Non-students additional reading:

Getting the Gospel Right by R.C. Sproul

Gospel-Centered Teaching by Trevin Wax

The Explicit Gospel by Matt Chandler

Biblical Theology

Required for all:

What is Biblical Theology? by James Hamilton

According to Plan by Graeme Goldsworthy

Non-students additional reading:

Biblical Theology in the Life of the Church by Michael Lawrence

Church

Required for all:

The Church: The Gospel Made Visible by Mark Dever

The Church and The Surprising Offense of God’s Love by Jonathan Leeman

The Prodigal Church by Jared Wilson

Non-students additional reading:

Total Church by Tim Chester and Steve Timmis

Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Jonathan Edwards on Revival (3 short books in one)

Preaching

Required for all:

Preaching by Tim Keller

The Supremacy of God in Preaching by John Piper

Preaching to a Post-Everything World by Zack Eswine

Non-students additional reading:

The Word-Centered Church by Jonathan Leeman

On Preaching by H.B. Charles

Faithful Preaching by Tony Merida

Ministry

Required for all:

The Imperfect Pastor by Zack Eswine

The Contemplative Pastor by Eugene Peterson

The Art of Pastoring by David Hansen

The Pastor: A Memoir by Eugene Peterson

Non-students additional reading:

Brothers, We Are Not Professionals by John Piper

The Pastor’s Justification by Jared Wilson

The Reformed Pastor by Richard Baxter

Worship

Required for all:

Christ-Centered Worship by Bryan Chappell

Worship Matters by Bob Kauflin

Non-students additional reading:

Rhythms of Grace by Mike Cosper

The Sinner Next Door and the Banality of Evil

The New York Times unwittingly set off a firestorm recently with the publication of a piece by Richard Fausset on an allegedly normal Ohio man named Tony Hovater who lives in a regular suburban neighborhood, shops at Trader Joe’s, eats at Applebee’s—oh, and also happens to be a white supremacist. This profile, titled “A Voice of Hate in America’s Heartland,” elicited such a strong response from critics concerned about Fausset’s apparent attempt at “normalizing” this obvious evil, the Times was moved to issue an apology (of sorts):

Our reporter and his editors agonized over the tone and content of the article. The point of the story was not to normalize anything but to describe the degree to which hate and extremism have become far more normal in American life than many of us want to think.

We described Mr. Hovater as a bigot, a Nazi sympathizer who posted images on Facebook of a Nazi-like America full of happy white people and swastikas everywhere.

We understand that some readers wanted more pushback, and we hear that loud and clear. . . .

We regret the degree to which the piece offended so many readers. We recognize that people can disagree on how best to tell a disagreeable story. What we think is indisputable, though, is the need to shed more light, not less, on the most extreme corners of American life and the people who inhabit them. That’s what the story, however imperfectly, tried to do.

They’re sorry if you were offended. A little half-hearted, if you ask me. But I think embedded in both the original article and the angry push-back are two things everyone essentially agrees on: 1. There are such evils (like Nazism, for instance) that are truly shocking, above and beyond all manner of human decency, grotesque in their ideation and expression. Some sins are worse than others, we might say; and, 2. Equally shocking is just how widespread this kind of outrageous sin actually turns out to be.

Thus, the Nazi next door.

It is that kind of “normality” I think the Times was trying to convey. To have been more clear on that point would probably have called for an opinion piece, not a straightforward journalistic profile. But I think they assumed we’d all know just how evil Nazis are and were a bit taken aback by the idea they were trying to communicate with the piece that the ideology of white supremacy is no big deal. I think they were trying to say it is a bigger deal than we think because it’s everywhere.

Of course, many of our non-white friends have been trying to tell us this for years.

Whether the Times succeeded in this approach is perhaps in the eye of the beholder. But I for one don’t think they were trying to say that racism is normal in that way. But, again, is there much of a revelation in this kind of profile any more? Hasn’t the last election cycle shown too many of us what sort of ideological compromises, including as it pertains to racism and misogyny, our own friends and family members might be willing to make to maintain their own sense of cultural normalcy? What’s a little racism when you’re eating two-for-one apps down at the Applebee’s? Or, you know, electing a president?

It’s easy, more manageable to put white supremacy in the box marked “Fascist European Dictator” or even “Psychopathic Rural Southern Loonies.” It’s shocking when we find it, apparently misplaced, in the boxes marked “Todd from Accounting” or, perhaps, “Grandpa.”

We see a similar phenomenon in the myriad responses to the now-daily cascade of sexual harassment and assault revelations about celebrities big and small. Big, fat gross guys like Harvey Weinstein make for easy perpetrators. But Matt Lauer? He seems so nice. He’s handsome. He helps start my morning right.

Sarah Silverman looks truly pained while publicly processing the sins of friend and fellow comedian Louis CK. “Can you love someone who did bad things?” she asks. This week on the revelations of Lauer’s years of harassment (and alleged assault), his Today Show co-host Savannah Guthrie said, “I’m heartbroken for Matt. He is my dear, dear friend and my partner. And he is beloved by many, many people here.” Well, even that Ohio Nazi is beloved by somebody.

The Hollywood establishment is seeing their chickens come home to roost. And good for them. Maybe the Lord will use it to grant widespread repentance, as they process the aftermath of getting knocked down off their idealistic high-horses.

And hopefully he will do that to us. Judgment does begin, after all, at the house of God.

What if sexual and racial sin has become so normal—even among evangelicals—we don’t even think of it as abnormal any more?

This morning at The Federalist, we find an article titled “Why Alabamians Should Vote for Roy Moore”, which opens thusly:

. . . [E]ven if Roy Moore did what he is accused of doing, Alabamans are within their rights to vote for him, and they shouldn’t let Democrats and Never Trumpers shame them into not voting.

To remind you, dear reader, Moore has been accused, basically, of pedophilia, as an adult male who regularly sought out underage females, girls as young as 14. You may not find those accusations credible—full disclosure: I do—but this author is saying the credibility is beside the point. And here we fold our hands under our chin and say, “Do go on.”

In his early thirties, Moore had a penchant for dating teenagers. Apparently, this was not an uncommon occurrence during this time. In fact, this practice has a long history and is not without some merit if one wants to raise a large family.

You might even call it downright “normal.” Indeed, the author goes on to quote Romans 3:23. We’re all sinners here. What’s a little pedophilia? There are no big or little sins. And if you claim there are, you’re virtue signaling, the author claims. Which doesn’t stop him from going on to compare Moore with his opponent, Doug Jones, claiming that Moore is the “lesser of two evils,” thereby undercutting the entire thesis of his article. If we’re all sinners, and no sin is bigger than another, maybe it’s okay if I don’t vote for the guy who likes underage girls?

Now, at this point, you recoil. That would be normal. The author of this piece is clearly some slack-jawed yokel on the fringes of the faith, if he’s even a Christian! On the other hand, maybe he could be a prof at a Baptist college.

To be fair, Tully Borland says he has a 14-year-old daughter, and that if he caught Moore messing with her, he’d hurt him. And then vote for him. Because there’s something more important than virtue.

That this kind of thing gets said, shared, promoted, cheered in all of our circles every day tells us something important about the nature of sin. It brings me all the way back around to that “normal” Nazi in Ohio. We are seeing—again and again and again—that the audacity of sin isn’t simply out there. It’s in here.

As we wrestle with the realities that an incredible number of seemingly “normal” guys-next-door like to expose themselves to vulnerable women, to post racially incendiary things anonymously online, to put political power over biblical purity to the point that even pedophilia is not a liability any more for the Values Voters, we realize that we can no longer pretend that all this mess is abnormal, or even that it’s just next door. The calls are coming from inside the house.

And this is how Romans 3:23 actually applies—not that all sin is the same, so what’re a few sins when power is on the line?—but that the aberration of rebellion affects us all, so we must keep our eyes all the way open and be vigilant to call it to account. And not just for “those people.” But for ourselves. Sin is deceitful. Disobedience and falling short of God’s glory doesn’t just make us disordered spiritually—when we coddle sin, it makes us stupid.

Sure, you and I may not support Nazis or yawn at sexual assault. But what sins do we think of as normal? What moral equivalency games have we played? And how would we know?

In 1963, Hannah Arendt published her still-controversial book Eichmann in Jerusalem, in which she coined the term “the banality of evil.” Arendt’s major claim was not something like “there’s a little bit of Nazism in all of us” (although I’d suggest, biblically speaking, that there kinda is), but that people (like Adolf Eichmann) who normalize otherwise obvious evils in their lives don’t typically do so out of some bizarre psychosis or well-devised ideology but rather sentimental cliches and personal advantages. To summarize, elsewhere Arendt referred to Eichmann as “outrageously stupid.”

Equally so is the idea that we will arrive on the last day and find it perfectly understandable to look our Judge in the eye and say, “Lord, Lord, did we not choose the lesser of two evils in your name?” For now, that seems perfectly normal. But in the end it will be shown to be perfectly stupid.

May the Lord save us not just from evil, but from the calling of evil good.

On His Birthday, 3 Things I’ve Learned from C. S. Lewis

On this day in 1898 the world was given C. S. Lewis. (We lost him 54 years ago exactly one week previous from today.) Every year in this November week spanning Lewis’s day of departure and day of birth, I think of him even more fondly than I normally do. Perhaps no writer looms as largely over my life—and the lives of so many others I know and admire—than that of Jack’s. I typically try to run some variation of a tribute to him, and so this year I’d like to list three things reading Lewis has taught me over the years:

1. Wonder.

My first introduction to Lewis was not the Chronicles of Narnia, actually, but as a child, Out of the Silent Planet. It was completely weird and wonderful. When I got to Narnia shortly thereafter—I was about 8 or so, probably—I consumed each book one after another lustily, like the literary equivalent of Turkish delight. Lewis’s space capsules and English manses and wardrobes and attic spaces grabbed a hold of me, broadcasting where my neurons were tuned, man. I was the kid who saw a treasure map on the back of a box of Cap’n Crunch cereal and was convinced it led to buried valuables in my Brownsville, Texas, neighborhood. Reading the Space Trilogy (well, the first two books when I was little, the third well into high school) and Narnia was like warp speed for my already truckin’ along childlike wonderment.

2. Reason.

Even Lewis’s fiction is chock-full of logic. “Don’t they teach that in schools any more?” the Professor says to the Pevensies when they don’t believe Lucy’s fantastic story. Lewis’s faith was full of wonder but was, also, entirely reasonable, and in the ’80s when the apologetics industry was dominated by Josh McDowell and burgeoning creation science (Lee Strobel hadn’t hit the scene just yet), I was ingesting The Abolition of Man and Mere Christianity. And probably the most influential nonfiction work of his for me is his collection of essays named after “God in the Dock.” The article “Myth Became Fact” is one of my all-time favorite short pieces, fiction or non, and offered a complementary weight to one of my favorite lines in Perelandra, which I quote probably way too much in all the stuff I write. (Ransom understood that myth is “gleams of celestial beauty and strength falling on a jungle of filth and imbecility.”) Lewis helped me make sense of this polytheistic, pluralistic world. His classic trilemma in Mere Christianity just made sense. His own logic and reason is not airtight of course, but he approached Christianity not just as a worshiper but as a thinking worshiper, and he therefore becomes an invaluable asset for relentlessly scrutinizing young men and women sorting out their faith.

3. Artistry.

My man Jack could just flat-out write. And when he wrote, he exulted. In his own words:

As I write, I am not merely teaching. I am adoring. Please do not take the enchanted as merely the didactic.

When I was in the first grade, my class filled out these little booklets that chronicled our favorite subjects, foods, games, and so on. One of the questions was “What do you want to be when you grow up?” My 6-year-old hand wrote “Author” in that blank, and through a series of adolescent aspirations and a call to vocational ministry I have never not wanted to be a writer of books. Lewis threw gasoline on that childish ambitious fire, and he showed me over and over again what words can do. His writing was show and tell for me, displaying in so many beautiful, confident ways how literary pursuit is worship.

Pre-Order My New Book and Get Free Resources

My new book Supernatural Power for Everyday People: Experiencing God’s Extraordinary Spirit in Your Ordinary Life releases from Thomas Nelson on January 23.

And right now Nelson has a great deal going for pre-order purchases. If you pre-order the book, you’ll get:



– early access to the initial chapters

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Here’s what some folks are saying about it:

“Many of us wonder how our God is supposed to supernaturally work in our lives, but we are often confused by the mixed messages we hear in various Christian communities. Jared C. Wilson does well to convey how God supernaturally acts, if we merely submit to his will.”

— Caleb Kaltenbach, author of Messy Grace

“The word supernatural is often mistaken and misused in Christian circles. But in Supernatural Power for Everyday People, Wilson corrects the misnomers and rights the mistakes by revealing the supernatural being God reveals himself to be. The Bible is full of supernatural events and experiences that we should embrace and enjoy. Let’s live it.”

— Greg Gilbert, author of What is the Gospel? and FAVOR

“A book on supernatural living is something one expects from a charismatic or Pentecostal preacher, not a Gospel Coalition blogger. But this is what makes Jared C. Wilson’s effort to convey the other-worldly power of the Holy Spirit so intriguing, infectious. Make no mistake, our God is a supernatural being who works supernaturally.”

— Kyle Idleman, author of not a fan and Grace is Greater

“In his book Supernatural Power for Everyday People, Jared C. Wilson points out that the Holy Spirit is not just someone who simply counsels and comforts, but rather our God who convicts and guides. He is the one with the supernatural power to affect our heart, strengthen our resolve and lead us to action. Whether associated with the holy rollers or one of the frozen chosen, or neither, we all need to embrace this book.”

— Mike Cosper, author of Recapturing the Wonder

“There is just no way Jared Wilson—or anybody else—can speak with so much truth and grace as in these pages except by the power of the Holy Spirit. I found myself confronted and comforted time and time again while reading and desiring to live life more supernaturally and less dependent on my little strength and empty knowledge. I can’t wait to share the life-giving truths of this book with my church.”

— Jairo Namnún, Executive Director of The Gospel Coalition, Spanish

Learn more at SupernaturalPowerBook.com

This Theologically Orphaned Generation

For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers . . .

— 1 Corinthians 4:15a

Setting – November 1992, an evangelical church in the American South.

Concerned Voter: I don’t know. I can’t believe the American people elected this man.

Unconcerned Voter: Ah, don’t worry. He’s a natural leader.

CV: Yes, but some of the things he stands for, some of the things he says are in opposition to the way of Jesus.

UV: He just knows his audience, is all. He says he’s a Christian. That’s good enough for me.

CV: But does he actually live out what he says he believes? Lots of people are saying he’s a womanizer. Or worse.

UV: Who are we to judge? Look, God can use anybody. Think of King David. He was an adulterer too.

Aaaaand scene.

The above scenario is entirely imagined. I say “entirely” because I cannot imagine that it actually took place in any conservative church hallway in the early ’90s. No, evangelicals stood almost lock-step in opposition to the elected president that year, and they did so largely because of his platform but also because of his questionable character. Indeed, we heard lots and lots and lots about his character. Still do, in fact. Evangelicals care a lot about character. Except when they don’t.

I’m a child of the ’70s and ’80s. I grew up in the height of Reaganism and the rise of the Moral Majority/Religious Right, and so on. I remember the Sunday Oliver North came to “preach” in our church. I still have the hardback copy of his book that he signed for me, though I don’t remember a thing he said from the pulpit. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb to suggest that it wasn’t a Christ-exalting piece of biblical exposition. I do remember wondering why he was speaking as a patriot when his patriotism seemed to be applied in some kind of scandal.

I don’t remember any of the churches I grew up in going overboard on the nationalistic fervor, even during the chilliest years of the latter stages of the Cold War. Patriotism just kinda hung in the background, like the flag on the sides of so many church altars. But, then, the gospel just kinda hung in the background too.

One thing I do remember our preachers and Sunday school teachers telling us, however, is how much being a good person mattered. Your reputation, your integrity, your character—this was your currency. This warning was expressed in a variety of contexts and with a variety of applications. It was especially stressed during anxious election seasons, but it was a constant lesson from our elders, for whom personal integrity meant so, so much.

We were schooled on the importance of the Christian worldview—in opposition to postmodernism and other philosophical evils. Our teachers typically weren’t well-versed in philosophy, but they warned us zealously against moral relativism, situational ethics, and hypocrisy.

I was scared into the kingdom by one of those late-’70s “Left Behind” films. Nothing could be more important than to stand for the truth, even in the face of the anti-Christ’s persecution.

We Saw You at the Pole, where evangelical students gathered ostensibly to pray for the country but also, honestly, to thumb their noses at all those worldly humanists who wanted to take away our right to pray in schools.

We ate apologetics books like communion wafers—and were about as nourished. What we learned was to argue, to corner our opponents in their intellectually unfurnished corners, defeating them with our theistic strength and consistency.

And then something happened. Our Merlins and Gandalfs became Barnums and Baileys. Or something. Worldview became market share. The rock-hard truth unchanging became circumstantial application.

Then came more seismic shifts. My generation is called Gen-X. Remember them? Probably not, because we contributed essentially nothing to the evangelical movement save for the emerging church, which has emerged into thin air (or into the mainline). Anyways, we got lost in the shuffle. We looked up to our forebears, who seemed to be merging their mid-life crises right into their church-growth strategies. (What’s with the Hawaiian shirts? We’re nowhere near an ocean.) The worst thing you could be was irrelevant.

And I think that’s where we ended up becoming ecclesiological latch-key kids. Because the pursuit of relevancy is the pursuit of influence, of power. And when power becomes your god, you’ll do as much biblical gymnastics as it takes to get it or keep it.

The younger generation now is basically a bunch of theological orphans. They are the latest theologically orphaned generation. Why? Because their church leaders have effectively abandoned them—we’ve left them to figure out discipleship by themselves, to figure out church growth by themselves, to figure out the application of biblical Christianity in general by themselves.

I’m not a millennial, but I feel abandoned too. The opening dialogue is something I see reflected almost every day now in comment threads, news articles, and from friends and family on social media. Not about Democrats, though. Heavens, no. Democrats are still obliged to keep good character, and in fact, they cannot, as their very platform precludes it. Conservatives, however, may do as they like. Say what they want. Get away with almost anything. So long as their platform reads right.

This is the logic daily rehearsed from believers in the unchanging Jesus! From the same believers who raised us to believe that standing for the truth was more important than anything, that being persecuted for your integrity was better than compromise, that morality was not relative, that ethics are not situational. And now these same teachers are wanting us to believe that a little “R” by a man’s name covers a multitude of sins. That what wasn’t okay for a “liberal” is justifiable for a “conservative.” That if there weren’t just so many other things on the line . . .

A new poll in fact shows that white evangelicals are now the most likely constituency to believe “an elected official who commits an immoral act in their personal life can still behave ethically and fulfill their duties in their public and professional life.” This is up from 30 percent in 2011 to a whopping 72 percent this year. And this is not because evangelicals suddenly decided to show some grace to politicians, because you don’t see this kind of consideration given to political opponents. There is really only one main explanation for this sizable jump in 2017 in the ability to look the other way. Ethics kinda seem situational all of a sudden.

We’ve been abandoned by our teachers. Our guides have left us without fathers. The men and women we looked up to have gone against everything they told us to believe in. We wonder if they ever really believed it themselves.

Some of this orphaned generation will fall in line, because they were discipled according to the moralistic therapeutic deism fueling the evangelical zeitgeist. But some of this generation will refuse to do so. Because they learned to do as you say, not as you do.

The evangelical generations are divided. That much is clear. It is a sad situation to see so many orphans. They’re reading all the old dead guys, because they can see how those guys finished. They can see who held the line all the way and who didn’t. They are listening to more non-white evangelicals, because those folks have learned how to persevere from the margins for centuries. And the upside to all of this is that the orphan will come home. These youngsters who have rejected your idolatrous politics, your nationalistic faith, your moral subjectivity, your fear of the alien and the stranger, your gospel neglect will finally do you proud when they inherit your churches. If they can keep their heads on straight.

Godspeed, you theological orphans. Do not take your eyes off the gospel. The church’s absentee landlords have their reward. But yours is the kingdom of heaven.

The Attractional Church’s Trojan Rabbit

Once upon a time, I tweeted: “At our church we want our music to be as good as it can be without having people come to our church because of it.” Some of the responses were rather telling. Some folks, as folks’re prone to do, apparently read what I didn’t write and asked me why I want to promote bad music and why I’m against people finding music attractive. For the record, I’m not a fan of bad music (in lyric or tune or style), and I’m not against people being attracted to music (and the arts in general).

Taking a step back, though, I find the leap to hear what I didn’t say indicative of the fundamental problem. It happens whenever I decry pragmatism and I’m asked why I advocate impracticality. But pragmatism and practicality aren’t the same thing. And neither is the attractional paradigm of “doing church” identical to wanting an attractive church. It is only thought so in environments where the medium has become the message (apologies to Marshall McLuhan). Those who’ve grown up in or cut their ministry teeth on the attractional movement often cannot see the ecclesiological dis-ease around them.

At its inception, the attractional church (or “seeker church,” as it used to be called) was about getting as many people as possible inside the doors to then hear the good news of Jesus Christ. In my youth ministry days, we used all manner of traditionally adolescent enticements—pizza, silly games, loud music—but the “big church” services in the attractional paradigm uses grown-up versions of these enticements, ostensibly to contextualize the message. If we were dubious people—wink, wink—we might call this approach to ministry “the ol’ bait and switch”: get ’em inside with cool stuff, then share the gospel with the captive audience.

But something distressing happened. As if to unwittingly prove the dictum that what you win people with is what you win them to, increasingly, the gospel of Christ’s finished work became relegated to the end of a service, almost an addendum to to the real focal points of the goings-on, and then it frequently became pushed to the end of an entire message series, eventually became saved just for special occasions, and ultimately has been replaced altogether by the shiny legalism of moralistic therapeutic deism.

Eventually the attractional church became all bait, no switch. The approach of today’s attractional church is like the Trojan Rabbit of Monty Python‘s Arthurian nincompoops—smuggled inside the castle walls with nobody inside.

As a result so many inside the system, shepherded under this system and joined to it, can’t distinguish between attractive and attractional, practical and pragmatic. When we lose the centrality of the gospel, we lose the ability to think straight.

The post The Attractional Church’s Trojan Rabbit appeared first on The Gospel Coalition.

The Attractional Church’s Trojan Rabbit

Written by: Jared C. Wilson

Once upon a time, I tweeted: “At our church we want our music to be as good as it can be without having people come to our church because of it.” Some of the responses were rather telling. Some folks, as folks’re prone to do, apparently read what I didn’t write and asked me why I want to promote bad music and why I’m against people finding music attractive. For the record, I’m not a fan of bad music (in lyric or tune or style), and I’m not against people being attracted to music (and the arts in general).

Taking a step back, though, I find the leap to hear what I didn’t say indicative of the fundamental problem. It happens whenever I decry pragmatism and I’m asked why I advocate impracticality. But pragmatism and practicality aren’t the same thing. And neither is the attractional paradigm of “doing church” identical to wanting an attractive church. It is only thought so in environments where the medium has become the message (apologies to Marshall McLuhan). Those who’ve grown up in or cut their ministry teeth on the attractional movement often cannot see the ecclesiological dis-ease around them.

At its inception, the attractional church (or “seeker church,” as it used to be called) was about getting as many people as possible inside the doors to then hear the good news of Jesus Christ. In my youth ministry days, we used all manner of traditionally adolescent enticements--pizza, silly games, loud music--but the “big church” services in the attractional paradigm uses grown-up versions of these enticements, ostensibly to contextualize the message. If we were dubious people--wink, wink--we might call this approach to ministry “the ol’ bait and switch”: get ‘em inside with cool stuff, then share the gospel with the captive audience.

But something distressing happened. As if to unwittingly prove the dictum that what you win people with is what you win them to, increasingly, the gospel of Christ’s finished work became relegated to the end of a service, almost an addendum to to the real focal points of the goings-on, and then it frequently became pushed to the end of an entire message series, eventually became saved just for special occasions, and ultimately has been replaced altogether by the shiny legalism of moralistic therapeutic deism.

Eventually the attractional church became all bait, no switch. The approach of today’s attractional church is like the Trojan Rabbit of Monty Python‘s Arthurian nincompoops--smuggled inside the castle walls with nobody inside.

As a result so many inside the system, shepherded under this system and joined to it, can’t distinguish between attractive and attractional, practical and pragmatic. When we lose the centrality of the gospel, we lose the ability to think straight.