Author Archives: Svigel

About Svigel

Professor of Systematic and Historical Theology at Dallas Theological Seminary, author, husband, father.

“Silence of the Bishop”: A Calm, Cautious, and Controlled Response to Critics of Christianity

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Not long ago my family and I were strolling along a crowded street in San Francisco’s Chinatown. As we approached a group of very strange-looking Goths, my kids began to show signs of fear. My five-year-old instantly gripped my hand more tightly. My ten-year-old son drew close to me and started whispering about his worries. My twelve-year-old daughter grabbed my wife’s arm. By the looks on their faces, my kids thought we were in imminent peril.

In reality, there was no danger. We were entirely safe. My kids were just experiencing the effects of classic xenophobia. But they were just kids. And kids get scared of all kinds of things.

When we reached a quieter corner, I took my children aside and imparted some words of wisdom: “If we’re ever in a situation where you think we might be in danger, I want you to look at me. If I’m calm, then you can relax. But if I’m scared, then you can be scared, too.”

That non-event in Chinatown that caused my children such stress illustrates an important principle that applies not only to the family, but also to the family of God. In families, parents have experience and perspective kids can’t possibly have. They’re able to size up situations more quickly and thoroughly than children. That’s why parents need to set the tone for an appropriate response to merely perceived (as well as real) dangers.

The same is true for leaders in the Christian community in their responses to critics of Christianity.

 

Typical Responses to Critics of Christianity

In our era of new media—blogs, websites, Twitter, and Facebook—critics can quickly and easily make unsubstantiated or less-than-substantiated claims against the Bible or Jesus or the history of the faith. And many—both unbelievers and believers—take these claims seriously. When a perceived threat to the faith hits the public square . . . when another credentialed critic slams Jesus . . . or when some new scientific or historical discovery challenges the Bible, the pastors and teachers of the church often tune their responses to the same frequency as those critics who sounded the exaggerated alarm. Yet the Christian’s answers are often just as hasty (and just as irresponsible) as those of their non-Christian opponents. Too frequently they treat a cat’s hiss like a lion’s roar then respond with a tranquilizer gun that could take down a brontosaurus.

But what choice do Christian leaders have? How else should we respond to news that rattles the cage of a skittish Christian community?

The common approach today is to respond instantly to every criticism: Be ready to have an answer for every challenge. If somebody emails us for a quote, we need to be prepared to say something. If the news asks us for an interview, we must take that opportunity to set the record straight. If the cameras show up for a comment, we should have our makeup in hand. Why? Because Christians need to “be ready in season and out of season” (2 Tim. 4:2), “always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks” (1 Pet. 3:25). This is the apologetic approach of the modern media age. At one level the reasoning makes sense: if we don’t answer, people will think we don’t have an answer—not only our critics, but also those believers whose spiritual safety is our responsibility.

Now, I have no intention of criticizing this approach in its entirety. This kind of readiness and willingness to take opportunities to respond to critics has been part of the Christian faith for centuries. And Christian leaders ought to take advantage of opportunities to clear the air of controversy and calm the hearts of those with fragile faith. Yet my contention is that this is not the only Christian method of responding to critics . . . nor is it always the wisest.

In this essay, I want to suggest a different approach—less popular today, but no less Christian.

 

The Silence of the Bishop

Around the year A.D. 110, while under arrest and on his way to Rome to be fed to the lions, Ignatius of Antioch wrote a handful of letters to several churches in Asia Minor warning them of false teachers and urging them to faithfully contend for the faith once for all delivered to the saints. Apparently, though, the bishops of Ephesus and Philadelphia were not known for a strategy of vocal debate with false teachers and critics. In fact, it seems that some in their churches were even disappointed by their bishops’ strategy of keeping silent instead of debating their critics in the public square.

Rather than chastising those pastors for failing to arm themselves for disputation and to meet their opponents at high noon for a public shoot-out, Ignatius actually praised their refusal to engage in doctrinal battle royal. To the church in Ephesus he wrote: “The more anyone observes that the bishop is silent, the more one should fear him” (Ign. Eph. 6.1). Similarly, concerning the bishop of the Philadelphian church, Ignatius wrote, “I am impressed by his forbearance; he accomplishes more through silence than others do by talking” (Ign. Phld. 1.1).

Scholars have gone back and forth on exactly what Ignatius meant by praising the silence of the bishop. However, by placing Ignatius’s commendations in their Hellenistic rhetorical context, Harry O. Maier concludes, “Ignatius’ praise of silent bishops is not an attempt to defend ineloquence, nor is it intended to urge circumspection in theological debate; still less is it evidence in the first instance of the cosmological theorizing of a speculative theologian. Rather, it represents an idiosyncratic treatment of a commonplace in ancient rhetorical art concerning the discipline of well-timed and temperate speech that accomplishes important tasks of promoting social harmony and civil good order” (Harry O. Maier, “The Politics of the Silent Bishop: Silence and Persuasion in Ignatius of Antioch,” Journal of Theological Studies, NS, 55.2 [2004]: 506). For Ignatius of Antioch, the silence of the bishop meant “the opposite of intemperate speech and as such connotes the well-deployed rhetorical ability of the virtuous who have trained themselves to use the right word at the right time to achieve the common good” (Maier, “Silent Bishop,” 506).

Ignatius and the wise bishops of Asia Minor avoided mimicking the empty chatter of their foolish detractors. The heretical false teachers were talkative, impulsive, loquacious babblers. In response, the wise Christian leader should be cool, temperate, self-controlled, thoughtful, moderate, and well-reasoned, keeping silent in the face of opponents’ ceaseless prattling . . . but speaking calmly, cautiously, and controlled at the proper time and in the proper tone (cf. Maier, “Silent Bishops,” 507–509).

 

Answering a Fool according to His Folly

In today’s culture of information overload, public debate, blog posts, podcasts, talking points, sound bites, tweets, and re-tweets, the ancient Christian virtue of remaining silent in the face of hurricanic hullabaloo seems more like a vice. Instead, when a scholar touts some new discovery as a challenge to the faith, many Christian leaders feel compelled to respond immediately . . . as if the discovery actually constituted a legitimate and dangerous challenge to the faith. But is this the wisest approach? Is meeting the unfounded alarm with equal panic a healthy path toward engaging the shrill detractors and critics in a hostile culture?

The book of Proverbs states two apparently contradictory perspectives on engaging the fool’s folly. The first: “Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest you be like him yourself” (Prov. 26:4). In other words, when we respond to fools in a way that stoops to their methods, reasoning, manner, and tone, we will appear to be just as foolish as the fool himself. Yet the very next line shines light from a different angle: “Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes” (26:5). Without lowering ourselves to the manner of a fool (26:4), wisdom often demands that we respond appropriately when such a response will likely lead to the successful censure of the wiseacre. These verses need to be understood in light of their intended results: when answering a fool will result in folly, we should remain silent (26:4). But when answering a fool appropriately will lead to a correction of the fool’s self-estimation, we should instruct him (26:5).

This kind of calm, cautious, and controlled response seems to be in view in Peter’s classic “apologetics” passage, where that apostle writes, “In your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect” (1 Pet. 3:15). This passage implies that the person is making a genuine inquiry concerning the devoted believer’s Christian hope; he’s not an arrogant scoffer engaged in a public smear campaign. The manner of response should be with the virtues of “gentleness and respect.” Similarly, Paul instructed Timothy to “be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching” (2 Tim. 4:2). Rather than shying away from genuine teaching opportunities, the faithful pastor or teacher should patiently engage in instruction.

This virtuous approach to engagement in the public square requires that we speak when it’s appropriate to speak . . . and that we be silent when we should be silent. It means we refuse to match the shrill tone of excitable detractors. We evade escalating polemics. We avoid being dragged into flash-in-the-pan controversies that will burn themselves out. It means that we know when to open our mouths and gently but firmly answer the fool who thinks he’s wise in his own eyes . . . and when to shake the dust off our feet, refuse to give holy things to the dogs, and avoid casting pearls to pigs (Matt. 7:6; 10:14).

When we look to the Lord Jesus for examples of responding to questioners and critics, we find that Christ displayed unpredictable and varied approaches, too. If He perceived that the challenges were inspired by wicked or disingenuous motives, He would simply refuse to answer them (Matt. 21:24; John 8:3–9). When the disciples asked an honest (though confused) question about His second coming and the destruction of Jerusalem, He not only answered their own question, but He also addressed bigger issues that should have concerned them (Matt. 24:1–51). Sometimes Jesus answered simple, honest questions with simple, straightforward responses (Mark 12:29–31; John 4:19–24). At other times He simply remained silent (Matt. 26:63; John 18:9). Overall, Jesus exemplified the kind of calm, cautious, and controlled engagement with questioners and critics we might expect from the One Who is Wisdom incarnate.

 

Accomplishing More . . . through Silence?

After that brief encounter with a group of Goths in Chinatown, I told my children, “If we’re ever in a situation where you think we might be in danger, I want you to look at me. If I’m calm, then you can relax. But if I’m scared, then you can be scared, too.”

In our age of religious, social, political, and cultural attacks on the Christian faith, Christian leaders can’t afford to get seduced into responding to constant potshots. As Ignatius of Antioch taught us, there’s something virtuous about the calm, collected, “silence of the bishop” in the midst of a barrage of enemy fire. There’s something to be said about a Christian leader’s cool approach to critics’ outrageous claims and scholars irresponsible assertions—an approach that rises above the fray, shrugs off the flack, and communicates to younger believers that ultimately no weapon formed against us will prosper (Isa. 54:17).

However, when we leaders behave like every volley in the so-called “culture war” needs to be met with an immediate and decisive retaliation, we may be inadvertently communicating to our people that we’re in constant danger of imminent decimation. Rank and file Christians might begin to believe that if we don’t have an instant answer to every foolish attack on the ancient faith, then the faith itself will be in danger of losing.

Of course, there will always be a contingent of Christian apologists and scholars out there engaged in a failed modernist exercise of “understanding seeking faith.” Deep down they hide their belief that some terrible misunderstanding, unanticipated piece of damning evidence, or cleverly articulated argument could potentially topple the faith once for all delivered to the saints.

However, in a classic Christian approach of “faith seeking understanding,” whether criticisms come in drizzles or downpours, trickles or typhoons, we will not be shaken (Ps. 62:2). To some our unwillingness to answer the fool according to his folly will look like an inability to put the scoffer in his place. But I believe the calm, cautious, and controlled Christian leader is a much greater boon to the Body of Christ than the half-cocked “hero” who is always itching to jump into the fray. I agree with the words of Ignatius of Antioch, that often the silent bishop “accomplishes more through silence than others do by talking” (Ign. Phld. 1.1).

“Use Things the Way They’re Meant to Be Used”: Beyond Regs and Norms

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I’m hardly the model parent. I have no special training or expertise. I have no success stories (my oldest is just 13). And when I’m coping with my three kids’ day-to-day, hit-and-miss behavior, the fruit of the Spirit often gets juiced. However, over the years I’ve crafted a few “standing orders” that have helped maintain some modicum of control in my family. One of these is pretty simple but all-important in the Svigel household: “Use things the way they’re meant to be used.”

When followed, this rule can lessen the likelihood of accidents and injuries. Here’s how it works: Imagine your six-year-old grabs a five gallon bucket, turns it over, and tries to use it as a stepping stool to reach a bicycle helmet hanging in the garage. Suddenly the rule kicks in: use things the way they were meant to be used. Tragedy avoided. Or your ten-year-old can’t find his pocket knife to whittle bark from a branch. Instead, he grabs a pair of scissors, opens it up as wide as it will go, and starts shaving the twig with one blade: use things the way they are meant to be used.

Let me suggest that this rule of thumb can be applied when making ministry decisions, too. In fact, taking into consideration the intended purposes expressed in the Bible adds another dimension to the age-old debate between the “regulative principle” and the “normative principle.”

 

Regulatives vs. Normatives

For a long time Protestants have debated proper worship from two perspectives: those who adhere to the regulative principle (“Regs”) argue that whatever is not expressly commanded in Scripture is to be prohibited in worship and order. Those who hold to the normative principle (“Norms”) argue that whatever is not prohibited by Scripture is permissible in worship and order.

For example, some proponents of the regulative principle reject the use of musical instruments in worship because the New Testament neither prescribes nor mentions their use. On the other hand, followers of the normative principle would use a growing variety of musical instruments for worship because nothing in the New Testament expressly forbids their use. As another example, Regs tend to practice believer’s baptism exclusively, as this is the practice explicitly seen in the New Testament. Norms may practice infant baptism because nothing in the New Testament clearly prohibits it.

Needless to say, many evangelical churches follow a very broad normative principle, feeling the freedom to employ almost anything in their worship and order as long as it doesn’t violate a clear teaching of Scripture. Usually, then, a strong pragmatic principle tends to steer decisions. So, as an extreme example, if the Bible doesn’t clearly forbid driving motorcycles up and down the aisles and around the stage in order to illustrate the power of the Holy Spirit, then a church is free to ride motorcycles throughout the worship center if it will communicate the point in a memorable (read: entertaining) way. Or, to use a less extreme example, because the New Testament doesn’t clearly prohibit the use of artwork in the sanctuary, we are free to use art, images, multi-media presentations, plays, skits, movies, smoke, lightshows, dance, and other artistic expressions to communicate our message in memorable (!) ways.

Now, both the regulative and normative principles address matters that are not explicitly mentioned in Scripture (though they might be reasonably deduced from Scripture). Regs forbid anything not clearly affirmed; Norms allows things not clearly rejected. Yet what about the use of practices explicitly mentioned in Scripture in ways that are neither clearly condoned nor explicitly condemned? That is, the intended uses of some things are clearly articulated in Scripture, leaving us with clear direction on how they are to be employed, things like prayer, worship, leadership, money, Scripture, baptism, and the Lord’s Supper. The question then becomes: if Scripture teaches us clearly that Practice X is to be used for Purpose Y, is it also okay for us to use X for purpose Z? Let me give two examples.

 

Using the Bible the Way It’s Meant to Be Used

Scripture itself clearly sets forth the Bible’s intended uses. Scriptures point us to Jesus Christ (Luke 24:27; John 5:39; Acts 8:35; 18:28; Rom. 1:2; 1 Cor. 15:3–4). It’s to be read publically in church for instruction (1 Tim. 4:13). It also contains the wisdom of God needed to walk in righteousness (Ps. 119:105). In fact, its two main purposes can be summed up by 2 Timothy 3:15–17—“The sacred writings . . . are able to give you the wisdom that leads to salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.” So really the purpose of Scripture is twofold: 1) to point us to a saving knowledge of the person and work of Jesus Christ (2 Tim. 3:15); and 2) to teach us how to live as children of God (3:16–17). In other words, the explicit purpose of Scripture is to regulate our faith and practice.

But what about other uses of the Bible beyond these two?

Is it right to use the Bible as a guide for dieting—WWJE (What Would Jesus Eat)? Is it okay to also use the Bible as a science textbook? A management manual? A guide for “biblical economics”? A pocketbook for political science? A source of frameable quotes to hang in our bathrooms? Is it right for us to publish special interest study Bibles that focus on only one particular topic in Scripture (whether end times, animals, or apologetics) . . . or to package the presentation for one particular audience (whether moms, dads, leaders, or specific ethnic groups)? If the Bible was meant to point us to Jesus, how badly do we err when we use it to point to other things . . . or to point to us? If the Bible was written to equip believers for every good work, do we err when we use it to justify political opinions, glean dietary advice, or formulate scientific theories?

In short, do we risk doctrinal and practical accident and injury if we deviate from using the Bible the way it’s meant to be used?

 

Using the Lord’s Supper the Way It’s Meant to Be Used

Most evangelical churches know they’re supposed to observe the Lord’s Supper (also called “communion,” “the Lord’s Table,” or “the Eucharist”). And most know that the New Testament spells out clear purposes, confirmed by the early church’s practice. The Lord’s Supper is meant to reflect the “one body” of the gathered church (1 Cor. 10:17; 11:20) rather than a family’s normal meal at home (1 Cor. 11:22, 34). Around the Table, Christ’s disciples gather to dine with the Lord, commemorating His saving death and resurrection and anticipating His personal return (1 Cor. 11:23–26). Practiced properly, this community covenant meal provides spiritual blessing and strengthens faith (1 Cor. 10:16). Both the New Testament and early church confirm that the churches observed the Lord’s Supper every Sunday as part of the weekly gathered worship (Acts 20:7; 1 Cor. 11:18–20; see my essay, “Should We Celebrate the Lord’s Supper Every Sunday in Church?”).

Even though we have a sufficient picture of the intended purpose of the Lord’s Supper, what about other uses of the observance of the meal besides these?

Is it right for us to observe the Lord’s Supper at home in our families? On camping trips with friends? Should it be used as an evangelistic tool, presenting the gospel through the meal and asking unbelievers to partake as their first act of faith? Should its intended weekly observance be suspended in favor of an annual feast? What about partaking of the Lord’s Supper as part of our individual, private prayer time and devotion? Or during an “online” service with whatever elements we have at hand—bread and juice, pizza and Coke . . . donuts and coffee? How far from its intended purpose dare we take the Lord’s Supper before we end up out of bounds? If Communion is intended to be an act of covenant renewal among the gathered church as a commemoration of the suffering and death of Christ during corporate worship, do we err when we observe it in ways not intended by the Lord and practiced by His apostles?

In short, do we risk doctrinal and practical accident and injury if we deviate from using the Lord’s Supper the way it’s meant to be used?

 

Use Things the Way They’re Meant to Be Used

The constant tension and occasional conflict between proponents of the regulative principle and adherents of the normative principle will probably endure until the end of the age. Regs forbid things not clearly affirmed in or reasonably deduced from Scripture. Norms allows things not clearly rejected in Scripture. But in the midst of this legitimate debate, we sometimes fold in things for which the Scriptures are very clear regarding their purpose and function. This raises an important question that neither the Regs nor Norms directly address. If the Bible explicitly tells us the way things are meant to be used, on what basis and by what authority do we use them in ways that were unintended?

Of course, this question, too, deserves a fair-minded debate. What are the limits of liturgical freedom beyond the prescribed functions in the New Testament before we’re guilty of offering strange fire before the Lord (Lev. 10:1)? Are we not, then, better off sticking close to the clearly-articulated purposes and intensions of the Bible rather than cleverly, creatively, and perhaps dangerously and rebelliously making our own uses for them?

Maybe we ought to apply my household rule to better manage the household of faith: use things the way they’re meant to be used. I know in my own family this principle makes sense. It prevents things from being broken. It gets things done more efficiently. And it also keeps people safe. Perhaps some of our churches and believers have suffered unintended damage because we have failed to follow a reasonable rule of thumb: use things the way they’re meant to be used.

Selecting the Seven in Acts 6: Biblical Precedence for Congregational Election of Deacons?

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The selection of the seven in Acts 6 is often cited as support for congregational nomination or election of church officers, especially deacons. In churches with a congregational church polity, this passage is often produced as precedence for church governance, as it appears that the apostles themselves transferred electoral power to the hands of the entire congregation. I have occasionally heard defenders of a strongly congregational polity point to Acts 6 to support not only the congregation’s right to elect their own deacons, but also to select their elders, hire their pastors, and generally lead their churches by majority rule.

Others, who are more sensitive to the actual context of the passage, have suggested that the text at least provides the biblical basis for making the office of deacon a point of congregational power: that is, deacons should be selected from and by the congregation. If a particular church’s polity then consists only of deacons and a hired pastor, the deaconate functions in a way similar to leaders in a representative republic.

 

A Closer Look at Acts 6

Though sometimes exposited as the proof text for congregational autonomy in the selection of its deacons, a close examination of Acts 6, along with other New Testament texts, suggests that we should be very hesitant to treat this passage as a prescription for leadership selection, including deacons, elders, and pastors. Rather than providing a prescriptive method for congregational election of church leaders, the text provides an example of wise problem-solving in the early church that illustrates some general principles of leadership selection. Yet a careful consideration of this passage reveals facts regarding the selection of the deacons that are often conveniently overlooked by those who want this passage to bolster a strong congregational form of local church government.

So, must a congregation choose its own deacons independent of the leadership of the church? Consider the following eight observations.

Is This Descriptive of Prescriptive? We need to always be cautious about turning descriptive passages into prescriptive principles. In the narrative genre, the purpose of any particular account is not necessarily to prescribe how we are to do something in perpetuity. If that were the case, then why don’t we cast lots to select elders (Acts 1:26)? Unless there is something in the text that clearly says this is prescriptive, unless we see other texts in the New Testament that indicate the practice was universally instituted by the apostles and observed everywhere, then we must be very careful about using these to establish “biblical” mandates.

The Seven Are Not Identified as “Deacons.” Acts 6 does not explicitly identify the selected men as “deacons,” and nowhere else are they later identified as such. In fact, Philip, “one of the seven,” was identified later as an “evangelist” (Acts 21:8). Along with many commentators, including several early church fathers, it is my opinion that we see here the first historical instance of what becomes the task or office of deacon, but it is obviously not Luke’s purpose to clearly identify these men as the “first deacons” in order to establish precedence. If the passage were meant to be taken prescriptively, one
would expect some comment by Luke regarding its association with the office of “deacon.”

An Ad Hoc Task Force, not Standing Board of Leaders. In the setting of Acts 6, the need for the seven men was ad hoc, that is, they were selected to address a specific need that arose due to cultural conflict between two groups in the Jerusalem church (Acts 6:1). This would set an example of appointing deacons on an “as needed” basis for particular functions in the church—either short or long term. It does not constitute a “board” or “body” of deacons for the sake of governance of a local church.

A Group of Representatives, not the Entire Congregation. The leaders of the church in Jerusalem (that is, the apostles, who were then functioning in a way similar to the “elders” of a local church), were the ones who called together what appear to be representatives from the disgruntled party of Hellenistic Jews. (Some may say this was only an apostolic prerogative, that is, since today’s elders are not apostles, then we cannot take this passage as indicating the relationship between elders, the congregation, and deacons. However, if this is maintained, then neither can a congregation today apply this verse as precedence for selecting their deacons, because we have no living apostles today to approve the selection.)

The Greek text does not clearly indicate that all the thousands of church members in Jerusalem were gathered for this meeting, but “the great number of the disciples,” could be a partitive genitive (the great number from among the disciples), or, more likely in this context, the specific category of “disciples” mentioned earlier in verse 1: the “Hellenistic Jews” who had protested the unfair treatment in verse 1. Note that the deacons selected all have Hellenistic names (Acts 6:5), as it was the Hellenistic widows who were being neglected. This indicates that the “great number of the disciples” was not a full “congregational meeting” with a general democratic process to select representative leaders for the whole church, but a representative ad hoc group assembled to select appropriate men for this particular task.

Then, when the text says this found approval with “the whole great number” (6:5), this is the same term for the same representative group, indicating the number of those who were summoned to help solve the problem, not the thousands of church members in Jerusalem. The Greek adjective pas (“whole”) is always governed by the context to determine what set (universal or particular) is intended. In short, this was not a congregational meeting to select church leaders, but an ad hoc assembly of the legitimately disgruntled Hellenistic Jews for the purpose of solving a particular problem.

Church Leadership Initiated and Confirmed the Selection of the Seven. It should be noted that when the problem of the neglected Hellenistic widows was brought to the attention of the apostles, the leaders themselves initiated the process by which the problem would be solved—the gathering of representatives of the Hellenistic Jews, the delegation of selecting the leaders from among that group, and then the approval of the selection indicated by bringing the seven before the leaders for approval. Please note that the group of Hellenistic Jews did not exercise any authority on their own, but only what was given to them by the leaders of the church. The apostles “summoned” the Hellenistic Jews (6:2), ordered them to select seven men (6:3), and gave the “job description” (6:3), but they reserved the authority to officially “appoint” them to the task (6:3). The reason this task was delegated was the Hellenistic Jews knew their group best (all of the apostles were Aramaic-speaking Jews!), and to select these men would have taken them away from the ministry of the Word (6:4).

The Hellenists Task Was Given by the Leaders. The congregational representatives of the Hellenists, hearing the decision of the church leaders, did not vote on the recommendation in some kind of democratic process. The decision of the apostles was final. Here we have the congregation submitting to the decision of the elders, not vice versa. They received the assignment to select leaders from among them, did so faithfully, and then reported back to the leaders when they had accomplished the task (6:5–6). The phrase “what they said pleased the whole gathering” does not indicate official approval, but simply their pleasure in the wise decision of the leaders (6:5).

Selection of Deacons Received Approval by the Leaders. As a final step in selecting the seven representatives of the Hellenistic Jews to see to the neglected widows, the chosen men were “set before the apostles” (6:6). This demonstrates that the apostles had the final say on who would serve in this capacity, as indicated in their instructions (“we will appoint to this duty,” 6:3). Thus, the apostles laid their hands on the seven and appointed them to serve officially. That this was an official appointment is indicated by the laying on of hands and the later reference to these men as “the seven.” They were not merely volunteers, but actual positions of service in the community, even if limited to a particular area of practical ministry among a particular group within the church (that is, seeing to the needs of the Hellenistic Jewish widows).

This May Apply to Deacons, not Elders. This text at least provides an early example of selecting deacon-like ministers in the first local church. However, it does not give any illustration for the selection of elders, who are the ranking leaders of the church. The examples we have for the selection of elders in the local church suggest that already-established leaders were responsible for the selection and appointment of elders. Thus, Paul and Barnabas appointed elders in every church during their first missionary journey (Acts 14:23). Timothy himself was appointed by a “council of elders” (1 Tim. 4:14). Titus, who served in a similar pastoral role as Timothy, was instructed to “appoint elders” in every town (Titus 1:5). Although we have no clear pattern for the appointment of deacons, the pattern for the appointment of elders indicates that they were selected and approved by already-established leaders, not by congregational nomination or vote.

 

Positive Principles from Acts 6

Even though the selection of the seven in Acts 6 cannot be read as a prescription for congregational power to elect its own leaders, we can glean the following positive principles:

Ad Hoc Deacon Selection. The seven were chosen not to serve on a standing board or committee, but to address specific needs of the church as they arose. This would provide a biblical precedence for selecting ministry assistants on an “as needed” basis. We also know that members of the seven later went on to other things (e.g., Philip, who served as leader of the church in Caesarea). This indicates that the particular task of deacons may have a natural life cycle related to the task as well as to the ministry calling of the individual. Deacon service appears to have been “to the task” and “for the moment,” not as a permanent position or office. However, this does not rule out the possibility that a “standing committee” of rotating deacons might be the wise decision of the church leaders to attend to ongoing needs of the church.

Delegation of Authority. The apostles saw the wisdom in delegating the selection of the best men from that sub-group of Hellenistic Jews in the Jerusalem church. They called together the best people to make the best recommendations. This would provide a biblical precedence for choosing deacons that best fits the specific purpose of service. For example, if the need is somebody to minister among the elderly in the church, wise leaders might gather representatives of the older members of the church to make recommendations for leadership, under the oversight of the elders.

Dependence on Congregational Insight and Advice. The apostles clearly depended on the insights and counsel of members of the congregation who had a particular interest in the problem or challenge. They did not simply make arbitrary or heavy-handed decisions until investigating the matter, hearing from a large representative of those affected, and appointing the best people to deal with the matter—people who were well-respected and qualified according to the congregation itself. This is always a good precedence and reflects wise leadership. It is therefore a good idea for elders in a church to select deacons and other assistants based on broader congregational insight rather than simply arbitrarily appointing leaders to serve in various areas of ministry. A common practice today of electing deacons to a board and then assigning each deacon to oversee an area of ministry that he may not have functioned in prior to the appointment does not reflect this very well.

 

Conclusions from Acts 6

In sum, though Acts 6 does provide an illustration of how the leaders of the Jerusalem church wisely addressed a particular problem through the appointment of the seven, it does not provide a universally-binding prescription for how deacons (and especially elders) were to be selected. Nor is Acts 6 part of any discernible pattern in the New Testament that could contribute to our understanding of the prescribed method of selecting deacons. On the other hand, the selection of elders and other ministers in the New Testament (including missionaries and deacons) seems to have been entrusted to already-established leadership (apostles, other elders, not to the congregation).

Acts 6 does provide one illustration of how the apostles wisely addressed a particular problem, suggesting for us today that specific needs call for a delegation of authority with dependence on the congregation for insight. Any process for selecting deacons in a local church should take this illustration into consideration and strive for the same kind of wise decision-making, avoiding rash appointments.

Acts 6 does not in any way teach or support the idea of congregational church governance as it is commonly practiced today, in which final governing authority rests in the congregation of voting members. All authority in this text begins and ends with the established leadership of the apostles, who were at that time functioning as the elders of the local church in Jerusalem.

No More Microwave Messages, Please

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As a kid I loved T.V. dinners—frozen entrees heated and served in flimsy aluminum trays. That was before microwaves, so mom would pop them in the oven for 45 minutes and serve them up on makeshift T.V. trays just in time for Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, Wonderful World of Disney, or Fantasy Island.

Honestly, it was the thrill of family “T.V. time” that I relished. The meals themselves were, well . . . Salisbury steak doused in salty gravy to hide the fact that the meat suffered from acute freezer burn. Peas and carrots that had the consistency of Styrofoam packing peanuts. Mushed (not mashed) potatoes that approached the consistency of Elmer’s glue. Yes, the T.V. dinners tasted like refried dog food and their very existence lampooned the four food groups, but preparation was painless and the cleanup effortless. Besides, with our eyes and ears fixated on the T.V. screen, we mindlessly consumed the meals with the discriminating palate of garbage disposers.

As I reflect on those T.V. dinners I so enjoyed as a kid, I realize now that they serve as a physical forerunner to a spiritual counterpart in the church of the twenty-first century. Call them Microwave Messages, Instant Homilies, or McSermons. Not consumed by qualified, conscientious, and diligent shepherds of a beloved flock, but devoured by the lazy, the burned out, the distracted, the desperate, the incompetent, the ill-equipped, or the dishonest. Members of that sad sort download these canned sermons from the internet, buy them in a book, or mine them from the repertoires of celebrity preachers. Regardless of how they come by those so-called “ministry tools,” the result is the same: “sermons-to-go” that require no actual biblical, theological, or homiletical expertise and negligible prayer, meditation, reflection, and preparation.

In my mind, buying sermons or preaching somebody else’s sermon is the equivalent of picking up KFC and telling your family you prepared it yourself. Or it’s like stepping into a university classroom and spending the hour reading directly from somebody else’s text book. Or like buying term papers from online vendors to earn your degree. Or maybe like an average Joe donning a white coat and stethoscope and pretending to be a doctor by mimicking characters he saw on T.V. There’s just something creepy about pastors who don’t care enough about their congregations to wrestle with the biblical text, engage with its theological and practical truth, and then craft their messages to address their own churches’ real needs.

Please don’t mishear me. I’m not talking about using illustration helps. Or even quoting from fellow pastors and teachers. I’m not even worried about getting sermon ideas or outlines from others. The seeds of excellent messages can be planted by numerous sources—and cross-pollination from other preachers is healthy. What I mean, though, is when most of the message is drawn directly from another, even if that source is acknowledged. There’s plagiarism and then there’s lack of pastoral responsibility. Neither of them is tolerable for those trained and ordained for the pulpit ministry.

Let me suggest three reasons why McSermons are simply unacceptable for a responsible preaching pastor. In these three reasons, I’m focusing less on the plagiarism problem (which everybody should clearly see) and more on the pastoral problem (which many overlook).

First, canned sermons weren’t written for your church. A preacher’s primary responsibility is to provide spiritual leadership to the particular congregation in his charge. He is not primarily responsible for other churches or for all churches. The pulpit ministry in a local church is most effective when the pastor knows the members of his congregation, understands their spiritual needs, has his finger on their spiritual pulse, and can accurately gauge their doctrinal and practical growth. Only then can the pastor craft a message that applies biblical truth to the church’s specific needs. Let me suggest that a message that had been preached at another church or a sermon template designed to be preached to any church will likely fail to effectively shepherd your church. Popping the cork on bottled sermons might provide a polished presentation and impressive content, but it will always lack sincerity, authenticity, and heart-to-heart exhortation. In the end, the congregation may be foddered, but they may not be nourished. In 2 Timothy 4:2, Paul told Timothy, “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching” (ESV). In order to reprove or rebuke, a preacher must know the failings of the flock. In order to exhort, a preacher must understand the areas in need of growth. The authors of canned sermons don’t know your church. They can’t reprove, rebuke, or exhort your flock any more than reading some other parent’s written lecture could discipline your child.

Second, canned sermons turn the preacher into an irrelevant middle man. As far as I can tell, pastors who draw extensively from somebody else’s sermons are simply buying wholesale and selling retail. It won’t take long before the congregation feels a little ripped off. Why should a church listen to a second-rate communicator present the work of a first-rate preacher? Wouldn’t it be more desirable to go straight to the source? Why bother with the middle man? Oh yes, the middle man can provide more personalized service and a pulpit presence, but the message itself comes to the church through a stand-in who parrots somebody else’s words. I’m not surprised when members of the congregation feel their pastor’s messages lack depth, conviction, and passion. And I’m less surprised when church members lose attention because the middle man in the pulpit is mindlessly channeling the thoughts of another. We would do well to mediate on the words of Paul to the young pastor, Timothy, and reflect on how seriously he was expected to take his personal responsibility for that church in Ephesus: “Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy when the council of elders laid their hands on you. Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress. Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers” (1 Tim. 4:13–16, ESV). I see no room in Paul’s instructions here for a pastor who neglects his responsibility to exhort and teach, pilfering the content of his messages from a nameless, faceless supplier who has no relationship with the end users.

Third, canned sermons indicate a pastor’s loss of focus and misplaced priorities. The apostle Peter provides great counsel to those responsible for pastoral care: “I exhort the elders among you . . . shepherd the flock of God that is among you, exercising oversight, not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you; not for shameful gain, but eagerly; not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock” (1 Pet. 5:1–3, ESV). The picture Peter draws is one of church leaders who know their flock because they dwell among them, setting examples and providing oversight by word and deed. A pastor’s primary responsibility is to minster the Word of God to his particular flock with care and diligence. Sadly, the modern image of a pastor as a vision-setter, goal-getter, marketer, C.E.O., or shop-keeper has displaced the biblical image of the shepherd, mentor, and spiritual advisor who leads his flock through personal counsel and corporate preaching. As such, many pastors have been so over-burdened with day to day administrative and management tasks that they have no time for the activities that lead directly to effective sermon preparation—prayer, study, research, meditation, visitation, and preparation. Such pastors are forced to take short-cuts, and sometimes this means either shoddy, shallow messages thrown together on a Saturday afternoon or worse—canned sermons purchased from a Sermons-R-Us service and presented as if they were his own.

If you’ve become a connoisseur of processed, pre-packed messages, stop. Or if you’ve been tempted to snatch a fast-food sermon from a drive-through vendor, don’t. Take your responsibility of pastoral leadership more seriously. Take the time to get the training necessary to fill your workshop with the tools needed to craft sermons from the Word to minister to your world. Then carve out a generous amount of time to pray, study, meditate, and mold messages of both substance and significance.

[Originally posted at www.retrochristianity.com May 19, 2012]

Railroading the Resurrection: Why Am I Persuaded… but Not My Uncle?

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I believe in the miraculous bodily resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth about thirty-six hours after he genuinely died on a Roman cross. My uncle? Not so much. But why not? Why do I see the constellation of evidences pointing to the resurrection, but he sees just a bunch of random points of flickering lights?

Here’s the problem. Some read the Gospel accounts in the New Testament and see them as facets of a unified whole; others read the same documents and see mutually exclusive accounts that contradict each other. Some think through the various historical arguments for the resurrection and find themselves persuaded that the bodily resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth best explains all of the evidence; others hear the same arguments and conclude that they are simply under-determinative given the high burden of proof. So, what’s the problem? Why is there such an impasse when it comes to the evaluation of the exact same evidence? Why do I approach the evidence and arguments with the eyes of belief, while others approach the same evidence and arguments with the eyes of disbelief?

Well, let me tell you what is not the reason. It’s not that one scholar has more facts than the other. We’re all dealing with the same pieces of information. Nor is it simply that one scholar is smarter than the other. Nor is it that one scholar went to a better school than the other. Or is of a more noble character than the other. Some of these things may very well be true, but they are merely red herrings when it comes to discovering the root cause of why one person concludes that Jesus Christ rose from the dead while another concludes the exact opposite.

So, if it isn’t a simple matter of quantity of facts or quality of thinkers, what is it?

I sometimes hear it said that a person’s interpretation of the facts of history and historical documents affects whether one will accept or reject the resurrection of Jesus. Indeed, this is partly true. If a person rejects out of hand the possibility of supernatural intrusions in historical events, he or she will interpret all historical events as having natural explanations. Even if a person is open to the possibility of supernatural explanations but holds such events according to an exceptionally high burden of proof, his or her historical method will involve ruling out all possible natural explanations before seriously considering the supernatural. Or if a person approaches any historical text with a cautious distrust or suspicion, he or she will tend toward disbelieving the things that appear to most people to be unbelievable or unexpected. So, it’s quite true that how a person interprets history and historical documents will certainly affect whether one will accept the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth as an historical event.

On the other hand, it’s also true that one’s acceptance (or rejection) of Jesus’s resurrection affects how one interprets history and historical documents. If a person believes the resurrection of Jesus to have taken place, he or she will read the accounts of the resurrection tending to believe them. Also, the inevitable historical effects of the resurrection will be approached with openness—the reality of a true (versus fictitious) version of Jesus’s person and work; the authority of genuine eye-witnesses to Jesus’s resurrection and post-resurrection words and deeds; the establishment of an authentic (versus inauthentic) community of disciples; the appointment of a mission to preach throughout the world; and the sending of the Holy Spirit by the resurrected and ascended Messiah.

In other words, the question of whether Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead is not as simple as analyzing historical evidence and coming to logical conclusions, as though we were working with measurements that we simply plug into an objective equation. The talking heads on PBS or the History Channel make is sound just that simple. They make it appear that if a person would set aside their simple-minded naïveté and objectively examine the bare facts, he or she would inevitably conclude that Jesus was just a dead man whose memory became the victim of old fashioned myth-making. However, these same scholars are themselves powered by a complex set of presuppositions (“their own rules of the game”) that lead the evidence like steel rails guiding an engine down the tracks toward its inevitable destination. It makes no difference whether the train has two cars or twenty—ten pieces of evidence or a hundred. The route of the train is limited to the historian’s guiding principles and presuppositions. (Of course, they will argue that these rails are reasonable, demonstrable, and necessary guides to keep historical inquiry from derailing and causing disaster.)

Before you think I’m simply stacking the deck against unbelievers, please note well: the same is true for the Christian interpreters. Christian historians are not less intelligent, less educated, or less privy to all the facts. Instead, they engage the facts with a different set of rules. Their worldview includes at least the possibility of miraculous intrusions by a living God. They are generally more willing to give the benefit of the doubt to ancient testimonies, regarding them as “innocent of falsehood until proven guilty” rather than “guilty of fabrication until proven innocent.” Their rails include God’s revelation in and through history and an understanding of history that includes creation, deterioration, redemption, and restoration, within which narrative the resurrection of Jesus plays a central role. So, the believing historian is also guided by rails that carry the same cargo of facts in a different direction. And the believing historian will also say that these rails are necessary guides to keep historical inquiry from derailing and causing disaster.

Of course, there are evidences and arguments for the historicity of the resurrection. And there is room for discussion, debate, persuasion, and conviction regarding the strength or weaknesses of these evidences. My point, however, is that there are unseen forces at work in the process of critical evaluation that play a major role in where the evidence is actually led.