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Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

We learn different things in different ways. Some things we learn by discovering them, like the child who learns through experience that the stove is hot. Some things we learn by being told, whether orally or through print. When it comes to skills that we must master, however, we learn by being shown and then by doing for ourselves.

Christians learn the faith in all three of these ways. Some aspects of Christianity must be experienced before they make sense. For example, Paul opens 2 Corinthians by observing that we come to understand comfort by experiencing it during affliction. Furthermore, our experience of affliction and comfort is what teaches us how to comfort others in their affliction (2 Cor 1:3–4).

Other aspects of the Christian life can be communicated by telling. Paul told the Galatians that people who engaged in certain practices would not inherit the kingdom of God (Gal 5:19–21). He told the Philippians that certain individuals were enemies of the cross of Christ (Phil 3:18–19). He told the Thessalonians that they would suffer affliction (1 Thess 3:4). He also told them about the man of lawlessness (2 Thess 2:3–5). It is possible for Christians to know some truths simply because they have been told.

Many aspects of the Christian life, however, must be shown and practiced. That is why elders must be examples to the flock (1 Pet 5:3). It is why Paul exhorted believers to be followers of him, just as he was of Christ (1 Cor 11:1). It is why the Hebrews were commanded to follow the faith of their leaders, considering the outcome of their way of living (Heb 13:7). It is why Paul instructed Timothy to set an example for the people to whom he ministered (1 Tim 4:12; Titus 2:7).

The category of teaching by showing poses a conundrum for evangelical Christians. We are absolutely committed to the sufficiency of Scripture. We are convinced that Holy Writ gives us all that we need to live a life that is pleasing to God (2 Tim 3:16–17). Yet, by its nature as text, the Bible can only tell. It cannot show. How can believers gain the kind of demonstrative, practical knowledge that they need without abandoning their commitment to the sufficiency of Scripture?

One way is to recognize that the text of Scripture tells us of many examples. It narrates events that are meant as examples for believers today, even when those events occurred during other dispensations (1 Cor 10:11). Reading the Bible is not simply about gaining information. It is also about observing examples of how (and how not) to do the things that God wants His people to do.

Scripture also suggests another way of easing the tension between its sufficiency and the necessity of showing. The apostles made provision within Scripture for ongoing teaching that would continue after the completion of Scripture. Paul tells Timothy to take the teachings that he has received and to transmit them to faithful men. In their turn, these men were to transmit the apostolic teachings to others (2 Tim 2:2). This multi-generational teaching process would necessarily extend beyond the completion of Paul’s epistles. It implies that the apostle intended to leave behind a tradition of teaching to be transmitted through the living voice.

Roman Catholic theology makes the mistake of believing that this oral tradition imparts additional doctrinal content. Consequently, Catholicism affirms doctrines that cannot be supported by any Scripture. Protestants hold that the entire apostolic doctrinal tradition is contained in the New Testament. In other words, the New Testament provides believers with all the knowledge that they can gain by telling. Yet Christian teaching also includes elements of explaining, showing, and guided practice that a text cannot provide. Those elements are to be provided by living teachers who receive them from previous living teachers.

We are not simply taught by our teachers. We are taught by our teachers’ teachers, and by their teachers before them. These teachers do not become a separate authority alongside the Bible, but they serve as guides in understanding how we must integrate and live out the Bible’s requirements. They provide us with models for and critics of our practice.

The Bible taught me that I should be reverent in the presence of God. My father taught me what reverence looked like when he corrected my behavior during worship services. The Bible taught me that I should exhibit makrothumia (the kind of patience that results in a slow temper). My pastor taught me how to show makrothumia on a fishing trip when his son locked the keys in the trunk of the car. The Bible taught me that I must preach the Word. Certain college and seminary professors taught me how to put together a sermon that would both explain the biblical text and bring it to bear on life. The Bible taught me the importance of singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. My church provided me with a tradition of hymnody that delivered me from having to discover (or worse yet, write) suitable hymnody for myself.

Actually, that last statement is only partly true. The churches in which I was reared sang a hymnody that came partly from the Christian tradition, but also partly from recent attempts to mimic various stages of American popular culture. I later discovered that I would have to critique the hymnic practices of the churches in which I had been reared, separating those hymns that reflected historic Christian sensibilities from those that reflected the worst sensibilities of popular culture.

That situation has worsened in recent years, for three reasons. First, many churches have become more committed to the pursuit of popular culture. Second, they have applied the idioms of popular culture to more and more of the church’s ministry. Third, popular culture itself has become more debased. The result is that the great mass of churches in the evangelical world are spiraling away from legitimate expressions of Christian reverence, devotion, and worship. This is a grievous situation.

One of the correctives is to re-emphasize the importance of imitating the saints. Specifically, we should imitate those saints who stand in the line of those who imitate the apostles’ imitation of Christ. On the other hand, we should not imitate those saints who have imitated debased influences, whether those influences derived from ancient idolatries or from modern secularism. Not every saint is worthy of imitation.

What is clear is that part of biblical Christianity depends upon imitating our betters. We cannot learn everything we need to know by being told. Some things we must learn by being shown, and the line of those who show us is one that stretches back into the very earliest years of the church. Part of our ministry must include knowing who those saints were, and then appropriating the patrimony that they have secured for us.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


O Jesus Christ, Most Holy

Nicolaus von Zinzendorf (1700–1760); tr. C. G. Clemens (1743–1815)

O Jesus Christ, most holy,
Head of the church, Thy bride,
In us each day more fully
Thy name be magnified;
Oh, may in each believer
Thy love its pow’r display;
May none among us ever
From Thee, our Shepherd, stray.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Spiritual Maturity

Multiple passages of Scripture celebrate spiritual maturity and rebuke immaturity. Two of the most pointed are 1 Corinthians 3:1–4 and Hebrews 5:11–14. In the former text Paul rebukes “carnal” believers who have failed to grow and who must be fed spiritual milk rather than solid food. The writer to the Hebrews employs the same metaphor, equating the use of milk with immaturity and the consumption of solid food with maturity. He also specifies that the mark of maturity is to exhibit sensibilities that are trained through use to distinguish good from bad. In other words, maturity is measured by a capacity for sound judgment.

One of the tests of a successful ministry is that it is advancing the Lord’s people to mature adulthood (Eph 4:13). Obviously, the transition from spiritual infancy to spiritual adulthood requires growth. Not surprisingly, the epistles deploy the metaphor of growth to indicate that spiritual progress is expected of both churches (Eph 1:21) and individuals (2 Pet 3:18).

Healthy growth is always incremental. The degrees by which it is measured are often imperceptible. Consequently, measuring growth requires time—lots of it. Gardeners measure growth over weeks. Farmers measure it over months. Parents measure it over years. Unlike these examples, however, spiritual growth never stops. It must be measured over the entire lifespan of a believer.

Fostering growth is not a spectacular activity, and it is not an activity that can be hastened. Indeed, ministries cannot cause growth. All they can do is to arrange the circumstances that permit growth. They can feed, protect, and nurture—and they must do all of these over a process of time. Even then they are not guaranteed results.

The normal Christian life is a life of steady progress over time toward maturity, wisdom, judgment, and sanctification. This vision of sanctification stands opposed to alternative visions that see the Christian gaining holiness in other ways. In some theories, believers simply have to “let go and let God” to experience sanctification. In others, believers become useful to God when they experience some second work of grace or some baptism of the Holy Spirit. In still others, spiritual progress is envisioned as a series of quantum leaps, each of which is precipitated by a crisis and evidenced by “going to the altar.”

Churches that are committed to these alternative visions of the Christian life often focus on the importance of the public invitation. Indeed, they may gauge the success of their ministries by the number of decisions that are made during each preaching service. People are expected to make big, crisis decisions over and over again, whether these are decisions to get saved, to get right, or to get busy. Furthermore, the decisions are not considered real unless the individual goes forward in front of the entire congregation.

Of course, the Christian life does include crisis decisions. Trusting Christ as Savior often involves a crisis decision. A crisis may occur in the lives of believers who have indulged in a pattern of sin, and this crisis may precipitate a decision to abandon the sin, seek restoration, and live for God. These crises do happen and sometimes they are necessary.

Crisis decisions, however, remain the exception and not the norm. The goal of a biblical ministry is to see each of the Lord’s people making incremental adjustments whenever the Word is preached and the Spirit convicts. Indeed, a biblical ministry aims to equip people to make such decisions daily and sometimes even hourly during their individual walk with God. Sometimes these adjustments simply involve new understanding. Sometimes they entail seemingly minor course corrections. Only rarely do they result in major changes of direction instantly. Over time, however, the series of small learnings and adjustments will add up to significant change in a believer’s life. Measurable growth will occur.

Certain kinds of ministries can thwart this process of growth or even send it in wrong directions. Some ministries indulge in frothy emotionalism; their goal is to make people feel good about themselves. Other ministries are dominated by rule-driven legalism (and I use that term advisedly), in which Christianity becomes a list of do’s and don’ts. Some revolve around a cheap come-forwardism in which preachers manipulate people for knee-jerk decisions. Some ministries devote themselves to shallow theatricalism, reducing Christianity to a form of amusement and becoming indistinguishable from religious theaters.

In contrast to these approaches, a church that emphasizes maturity will major on the exposition of Scripture so that believers are hearing the voice of God. It will work patiently with its members, encouraging members to exercise their own judgment, but also expecting pastors to “reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and doctrine” (2 Tim 4:2). It will give people time to weigh biblical teaching and to respond sensitively to the Spirit’s leading in their lives. It will coach the immature in the exercise of sound judgment, and it will be prepared to help them recover after lapses in judgment. A ministry devoted to spiritual maturity will not necessarily expect to see people making big decisions during every church service. Instead, it will foster an atmosphere in which all members are making little but positive decisions all the time.

Ministries that follow this pattern will have the joy of watching believers grow from spiritual infants to mature saints who have a capacity for sound judgment. This kind of result may not be as obviously exciting as watching lines of people stream toward the “altar” during the invitation. The results that do occur, however—the long string of incremental changes that are the norm for the Christian life—are far more likely to endure.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


O That I Could Repent

Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

O that I could repent!
With all my idols part;
And to thy gracious eye present
An humble contrite heart!

A heart with grief opprest,
For having griev’d my God;
A troubled heart that cannot rest
Till sprinkled with thy blood!

Jesus on me bestow,
The penitent desire;
With true sincerity of woe
My aching breast inspire;

With softening pity look,
And melt my hardness down;
Strike with thy love’s resistless stroke,
And break this heart of stone!

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Sanctification

The first goal of a local church should be the clear exposition and application of Scripture. Faithful ministry must ground itself upon what God has said. Explaining and applying God’s Word is the most important thing a church can do. This task is critical to the success of all its other functions.

The most important of these functions is to know the God of the Bible. Knowledge of God comes through the knowledge of His Word. God’s purpose in inspiring Scripture is not merely to give us abstract knowledge of Him, as if passing a theology exam were the summum bonum of the Christian life. Instead, we learn the Bible so that we might know Him. Knowing and loving God is the fundamental means by which we glorify Him—and glorifying Him is the ultimate goal of salvation.

The Bible teaches that Christ is the great revealer of God (John 1:18). Whoever has seen Christ has seen the Father (John 12:45, 14:9; Heb 1:3). In other words, for us to know God means exactly to know Christ—the Christ of the Bible. We read the Bible so that we might encounter the glory of God in the face of Christ (2 Cor 4:6). Knowing God and knowing Christ are the very same thing.

This knowledge of Christ is the very thing for which the apostle Paul longed (Phil 3:10). Knowing Christ is a treasure of such excellence that, compared to it, all other things seem like refuse (Phil 3:8; Paul’s term is skubala, a crass word often used for human excrement). Clearly, knowing God hinges upon a yearning to know Christ.

This yearning for God and Christ is what we call devotion. Devotion is the engine that propels all legitimate ministry. If a church were an automobile, Scripture would be the frame upon which the whole car is built. Devotion would be the engine that powers the car and makes it go. The destination toward which the car is headed would be the full, personal knowledge of God in Christ.

To change the metaphor, the heart of all true ministry is love for Christ. Without this love, doctrinal knowledge becomes a dead, arid, and desiccated orthodoxy. Without this love, obedience becomes a corrosive legalism. Our love for Christ permeates and quickens nearly every doctrine. For example, ecclesiastical separation is not primarily a matter of what we refuse to participate in or who we refuse to participate with. Instead, it is a matter of what—or, more importantly, Whom—we are separated to. A married man devotes himself in love to one woman, and that devotion implies a level of separation from other women. Likewise, if we genuinely devote ourselves in love to Christ, then that love implies abstinence from a range of other affiliations and activities.

Jesus taught that discipleship begins with radical devotion: “And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.” To follow Jesus is to reject a life of self-indulgence. It is to take up one’s cross—a First-Century metaphor that implied complete self-abandonment, for a person who carried a cross was on his way to be executed. To go after Christ requires that we see ourselves as already dead. We must abandon our own goals, hopes, dreams, and ambitions. The first step in living out the Christian life is to recognize that this life is not about us. It is about Christ, and about holding ourselves ready to be used (or even used up) by Him.

Is such a life worthwhile? Jesus says Yes. If we try to hold onto our own lives—i.e., to the things we might have judged to be worth living for—then we will lose them. Anything we live for other than Christ will eventually be taken away from us. Only if we willingly throw away our lives now, abandoning all that we might have lived for so that Christ can use us (or use us up), will we find the true, enduring satisfaction that nothing outside of Christ can ever bring. This is a satisfaction of which nothing, not even death, will ever deprive us.

A life thrown away for the sake of Jesus is never wasted. A dream, a goal, an ambition, a cherished hope, when cast aside for Him, has not been squandered. Indeed, the abandonment of such things is wonderfully bracing and liberating. As the fog of self-occupation lifts from our hearts, we can finally begin to see beauties and behold wonders beside which our previous loves seem spectral and paltry.

Therefore, we must learn to love Christ, not merely for His gifts but for Himself. Indeed, He lades us with wonderful benefits, but if we love only the benefits without loving Him, then we are idolaters. He Himself is infinitely glorious, infinitely beautiful, infinitely worthy of adoration. To devote ourselves to Christ means that we pursue Him for His own sake and not merely for what He promises.

Except that what He promises is ultimately Himself. Consequently, the goal of our ministries must be to expose people to Him in all His perfections, character, and mighty deeds. Our aim must be to bring people to Christ Himself, so that they can love Him and so that His character can grow in them. Everything else that we do in ministry—evangelism, fellowship, instruction—has this goal. The church’s program must revolve around Christ Himself.

If the foregoing is true, then we have two good reasons to go to church. If the frame upon which biblical ministry rides is Scripture, then we go to church to hear the Word of God. If the engine that drives ministry is devotion, then we go to church to meet Jesus Christ. Any church’s ministry can rightly be appraised by whether its vision grants pride of place to these two exercises.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


His Be the Victor’s Name

Samuel Whitelock Gandy (1780–1851)

His be the Victor’s name,
who fought the fight alone;
triumphant saints no honor claim;
His conquest was their own.

By weakness and defeat
He won a glorious crown,
trod all our foes beneath His feet
by being trodden down.

He Satan’s pow’r laid low;
made sin, He sin o’erthrew;
bowed to the grave, destroyed it so,
and death, by dying, slew.

Bless, bless the Conqu’ror slain,
slain in His victory;
who lived, who died, who lives again—
For thee, His church, for thee!

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Biblical Exposition

Years ago my family and I moved to a large Southern city and were looking for a church home. We began our search as most people would, with a list of criteria for the church in which we hoped to settle. We searched week after week without finding an acceptable church. Then a funny thing happened: our list began to grow shorter. We kept looking for a Baptist church because we were convinced that Baptist distinctives closely reflect New Testament church order. We kept looking for a separatist church, which ruled out Southern Baptist churches (at that time, Southern Baptist institutions were still dominated by people who denied essential Christian teachings). Eventually, our list shrank to the point that it had only one other item on it. We wanted a church where, when the pastor got up to speak, whatever he said for thirty or forty minutes would have something to do with the biblical text that he read when he began his talk. Long did we search for such a congregation.

Preaching the Word of God has fallen out of style in many churches. Some churches pride themselves upon using the only acceptable (some would even say the “only inspired”) version of the Bible, but they hardly ever actually preach or teach it. Other churches have demoted or eliminated preaching in favor of video clips, holy skits, religious movies, sacred concerts, and other manifestations of religious vaudeville. These trends stand in contrast to the apostle Paul’s final instruction to Timothy, whom he told to “Preach the word” (2 Tim 4:2).

Paul not only issues the command but also anticipates an objection that someone might raise. Indeed, people are still raising it. In some circles, supposed Bible believers suggest that we should change the medium without changing the message. The medium that they want to change is preaching. Paul, however, makes no allowances for downgrading the importance of preaching. He says, “Preach the word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all longsuffering and doctrine” (2 Tim 4:2). In other words, Paul concedes that sometimes the preaching of the Word will appear to be effective and will produce results, while other times it will not. Whatever the circumstances, and whatever the perceived result, the preacher is supposed to keep doing what he is supposed to be doing: preaching the Word.

How much of the Bible should a church preach? Paul also answered this question. The setting was his final interview with the elders of the church from Ephesus. He told them, “Wherefore I take you to record this day, that I am pure from the blood of all men. For I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of God” (Acts 20:26-27). Paul claimed that his conscience was clear because he had declared everything that God had said. That is what churches of every age are responsible to communicate. To preach the Word means to preach the whole Word.

For a year of my life I was a member of a church that prided itself upon preaching the gospel, and by the gospel this church meant the plan of salvation. In reality, it seldom even preached the entire plan of salvation: most of the time it simply preached an invitation for people to respond to a plan of salvation that it presumed they already knew. The only other messages consisted of exhortations for believers to abandon certain practices (such as women wearing pants, or people using the wrong Bible version) and to get busy in evangelism. This church failed to proclaim “all the counsel of God,” and in this failure it doomed its members to a stunted version of the Christian life.

Proclaiming the whole counsel of God means teaching everything that God has said. It also means teaching nothing but what God has said. As a private individual, a preacher has every right to his own opinions. As a minister of the Word, however, his duty is to insert nothing into his teaching except what Scripture teaches. In his public declarations, he has no right to express his own views on politics, economics, community events, or even the weather, except insofar as these views reflect the declarations of Scripture. He must never run the risk that people might confuse his private opinions with God’s authoritative declaration.

Nevertheless, it is his job to apply the teachings of Scripture to the realities of life. A preacher has no right to express political opinions, but when the teachings of the Bible intersect with political questions, they are no longer merely political. They are now moral questions, and the preacher has a duty to bring God’s Word to bear upon them.

Preaching the Word does include the application of Scripture to real-life situations, but correct application rests upon correct understanding. Preaching mainly involves the clear explanation of Scripture so that God’s people can know precisely what He has said. In principle, all believers can discover God’s message by simply reading the Bible for themselves. In practice, however, they need to be taught how to read the Bible, and every sermon is a lesson in biblical interpretation. Biblical exposition, which is to say the correct explanation of the text, is critical to correct application.

The only way to be sure of preaching the whole counsel of God is to preach the whole Bible. Of course, the whole Bible cannot be preached in one sitting, or even in one year. It is an extended process that involves exploring a variety of literary genres. For this reason, exposition will not always look the same. A preacher cannot explain narrative in the same way that he explains poetry or apocalyptic, and he will not explain these like he explains didactic writing such as the New Testament epistles. The church’s mission, and the preacher’s duty, is to bring both Testaments together, exploring the depth and richness of the biblical text until all the teachings of Scripture have been exhausted. Sometimes this task will be performed at a simpler and more general level, and sometimes it will be pursued with greater detail. Always it will have the goal of introducing God’s people to all that He has said and to all that He requires.

To be sure, a congregation’s ministry must involve more than biblical exposition. Nevertheless, preaching and teaching the whole counsel of God is the foundation of all other ministry within the church. The whole counsel of God, rightly proclaimed and explained, is essential to the success of every other area of ministry.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Precious Bible! What a Treasure

John Newton (1725–1807)

Precious Bible! what a treasure,
Does the word of God afford!
All I want for life or pleasure,
Food or med’cine, shield and sword;
Let the world account me poor,
Having this, I want no more.

Food to which the world’s a stranger,
Here my hungry soul enjoys;
Of excess there is no danger,
Tho’ it fills, it never cloys;
On a dying Christ I feed,
He is meat and drink indeed!

When my faith is faint and sickly,
Or when Satan wounds my mind;
Cordials to revive me quickly,
Healing med’cines here I find:
To the promises I flee,
Each affords a remedy.

In the hour of dark temptation,
Satan cannot make me yield;
For the word of consolation
Is to me a mighty shield:
While the scripture-truths are sure,
From his malice I’m secure.

Vain his threats to overcome me,
When I take the Spirit’s sword;
Then with ease I drive him from me,
Satan trembles at the word:
’Tis a sword for conquest made,
Keen the edge, and strong the blade.

Shall I envy then the miser,
Doating on his golden store?
Sure I am, or should be wiser,
I am rich, ’tis he is poor;
Jesus gives me in his word,
Food and med’cine, shield and sword.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Tribute to Roger Peterson

There are probably four or five men in my experience whom I would consider mentors par excellence: men who doubtless changed my life, as well as the trajectory that it took. One of them entered the presence of the Lord last week, September 22, 2021, at the age of 89. I first met Roger Peterson on the evening that I responded to an invitation at Fourth Baptist Church to indicate my desire to become a member. I was reared in a small church in Kansas and I was reticent, to say the least, about joining a congregation of 1,500 members. I had moved up to Minneapolis in order to enroll at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. I figured that a large church would have no need for me. There were so many people in the congregation that surely there could be no place that I could serve. Yet after visiting for a couple of Sundays, I felt compelled to join the church despite its size, hoping that someday I could fit in somewhere. Immediately after that evening service, Roger Peterson was waiting for me outside the auditorium door. He introduced himself and asked me if I would be willing to serve in the church’s children’s program. As they say, the rest is history.

I’m now nearly 70 years old and I have been a member of Fourth Baptist Church ever since. Roger Peterson became one of my closest mentors and friends. I served under Roger for years as a Sunday School teacher and spent two summers under his direct (and intense) supervision as a “Preacher Boy.” Most young men only lasted one summer in that program. Eventually I served alongside Roger on the pastoral staff for over a decade and taught with him as a fellow professor in the seminary. On more than one occasion, we had the joy of teaching in Romania together. I think I knew Roger just about as well as anyone, and he me. That was truly a life-altering experience.

Roger Peterson was so like the NT character of Barnabas, in my experience, that I have often wondered if God cut them from the same cloth. Barnabas was a “Son of Comfort” (Acts 4:36), of the same quality, in fact, as God’s Holy Spirit: a helper, a counselor, an advocate, and an intercessor. Roger was outgoing and personable, as well as innocent and good-humored. There wasn’t a mean bone in his body. He loved people and he loved to serve people. Like Barnabas, Roger was a “good man” (Acts 11:24a), moral in person and kind in disposition. He was also “full of the Holy Spirit and of faith” (Acts 11:24b). Roger’s carefulness with regard to his sense of the Holy Spirit’s leading in his life was legendary, especially when it came to sharing Christ with those in his sphere of life’s experiences. No one but God knows how many times Roger redirected his own plans to follow his sense of the Spirit’s leading to minister to someone in need. It happened multiple times a day and affected hundreds of people. It was truly a gift.

It’s no surprise, then, that Roger became a Barnabas-like mentor to dozens and dozens of folks in so many ways. Barnabas took Paul under his wing when Paul was an outsider (Acts 9:27), and Barnabas took Mark under his wing when Mark was hurting and vulnerable (Acts 15:37-39). I can’t begin to recount all of the ways that Roger shepherded men, both young and old, to grow in Christ, to think biblically, to love the Scriptures, to love souls, and to serve selflessly. Here are but a few of those ways. Roger personally wrote (or occasionally co-wrote) and published an entire series of through-the-Bible Sunday School lessons for both adults and children, the “Bible Light Series.” Those lessons are still used by multiple churches around the world. Roger also “taught the teachers” every Sunday afternoon for those who were teaching Sunday School the following week at Fourth Baptist Church. As I mentioned, Roger was in charge of the “Preacher Boy” program every summer, meeting every day with a dozen or so seminary students who basically “sold their souls to Roger” in order to spend well over 60 hours a week learning at his feet and serving in the church and community for an entire summer. Roger also prepared and delivered a “Soul-Winners Challenge” at every mid-week service in order to encourage and exhort the church to share the gospel faithfully, widely, lovingly, and intelligently. Roger organized and led the outreach and evangelism program at Fourth Baptist every Tuesday evening for years on end. Roger championed and distributed a published Bible memory system, having memorized large portions of the Bible himself. Mentoring was at the very heart of Roger Peterson and countless people have enjoyed the benefit of his shared heart.

Like Barnabas, Roger was an exhorter, constantly challenging men and women “to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose” (Acts 11:2-23). Besides his weekly “Soul-Winners Challenge” to the church, Roger taught the Evangelism class at Central Seminary for somewhere around 30 years. It was one of the most difficult courses that I ever took in my life, one of only two seminary classes that I couldn’t ace. Very few could keep up with Roger’s expectations, not to mention his experience. Roger lived what he taught, and expected no less from his students. Yet Roger, like Barnabas, was a humble man. Just as Barnabas was out-shadowed by Paul for most of his early ministry (cf. Acts 11:30 and 12:5 with 13:43, 46, 50 et. al), so Roger served as a second man for the first 30 years of his ministerial career.  

Roger Peterson was not without his flaws and neither was Barnabas (Gal 2:13), and neither am I. But Roger Peterson left his mark on my life, and I will forever be grateful. I will miss his exuberant spirit, his infectious smile, his inveterate joy, and his unforgettable humor—but not for long. Thank you, Lord, for men like Roger. And thanks, Roger, for your investment in my life. I will see you soon!

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This essay is by Roy Beacham, Distinguished Professor of Old Testament at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Why Do We Mourn Departing Friends?

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Why do we mourn departing friends
Or shake at death’s alarms?
’Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to His arms.

Are we not tending upward, too,
As fast as time can move?
Nor would we wish the hours more slow
To keep us from our Love.

Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay
And scattered all the gloom.

The graves of all His saints He blest
And softened ev’ry bed.
Where should the dying members rest
But with the dying Head?

Thence He arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way.
Up to the Lord, we, too, shall fly,
At the great rising-day.

Then let the last loud trumpet sound
And bid our kindred rise:
Awake, ye nations under ground!
Ye saints, ascend the skies!

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Desiring a Good Work

Significantly, 1 Timothy 3:1 speaks of a man desiring not only the office of a bishop but also its work. Paul qualifies this statement by noting that a bishop’s work is a good work. This work falls broadly into three overlapping categories.

First, the bishop is also an elder. As an elder, he leads through his preaching and teaching (1 Tim 5:17). He also leads through his example (1 Pet 5:3). An elder’s ability to handle the Word and to internalize it are critical to his ministry. The work of an elder is a work of the mind and soul: he studies the text of Scripture, ponders it, and applies it for God’s people. The bishop-elder lives in the nexus between the world of ideas and the world of practice.

Second, the bishop is also a pastor. He is Christ’s under-shepherd who cares for the flock. He tends their souls during the challenges of life. Like his Master, he knows his sheep and can call them by name. He enters into their lives, sharing their sorrows and blessings. He weeps with them and rejoices with them. He watches over Christ’s lambs, knowing that he will eventually give account for their souls (Heb 13:17). The pastor-bishop performs a labor of caring and lives in the world of relationships.

Third, the bishop is an overseer. He holds the general responsibility for the ongoing work of the church. He is certainly not the head of the body, but neither is he just another member. He is like the connective tissue that keeps the body’s members functioning together (Eph 4:16) so that the body can grow. He is naturally in the best position to sense the overall needs of the body. While he does not make decisions for the church, he does direct the church as it makes decisions. He is responsible to see that all members are informed. He is responsible to ensure that each member has a voice and is free to choose as the Word and Spirit may lead. He enables the timid to be heard and prevents them from being trampled by the boisterous. As overseer, the bishop does the work of coordination and lives in the world of organization.

No individual is equally gifted in all these areas. Some pastors are better preachers and teachers. Some are better at relationships. Some are better as administrators. Almost no one truly excels in all three areas.

Perhaps that is why Christ saw fit to institute the office of deacon. Deacons do not have the role of providing spiritual leadership. Preaching and teaching are not part of their office (though a deacon who is gifted in those areas may preach or teach, as Stephen and Philip did). Deacons assist pastors in tending to the material needs of the congregation and in administering its organizational initiatives (Acts 6:3). If they are performing this work well, they will not only relieve the pastor of much unnecessary trouble, but they will also have a finger on the pulse of the congregation. They will become a pastor’s advisers and counselors.

A pastor should be able to trust the church’s deacons with some part of the care of the flock. He should also be able to trust them with a significant portion of the administration of the church. When it comes to the preaching and teaching of the Scriptures, however, the pastor remains solely and personally responsible. Even though a church will have other teachers besides the pastor, he bears the responsibility of overseeing all that is taught within the church, through whatever venue.

An effective pastor must prioritize his preparation for preaching and teaching. He needs to have something to say, and he had better make sure that what he says is what God says. He is responsible to preach the Word, whether it is well received or not (2 Tim 4:2). In fact, the mark of an elder who leads well is that he labors in preaching and teaching (1 Tim 5:17). A pastor’s study will be his primary working station.

Nevertheless, he dare not neglect the other areas of his ministry. Some personal care can be provided by deacons, but church members need their pastors to be involved in their lives. Some of the organization of the church’s work can be handled by deacons, but it still requires a bishop’s oversight. The pastor who neglects these areas risks the ruin of his ministry, especially in churches where the deacons are less than fully effective.

Preaching is the most important thing that a pastor does, but it is not the only thing that he does. His proficiency in other activities is critical to his success as a preacher. People will often refuse to listen to a preacher whom they perceive to be callous toward them. They will be distracted from the best preaching if they are required to fight their way through slipshod organization. All three areas are genuinely critical to the success of pastoral ministry.

A good pastor ought to love the Word of God, and he ought to love teaching it. A good pastor ought to love people, and he ought to learn to communicate that love. A good pastor ought to love effective organization, and he ought to learn how to oversee it. Consistent failure in any of these areas is likely to doom the whole ministry to failure.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


A Blessing on Our Pastor’s Head

James Montgomery (1771–1854)

A blessing on our pastor’s head,
Lord God, we fervently implore;
On him this day a blessing shed,
For life, for death, for evermore.

For all that Thou in him hast wrought,
For all that Thou by him hast done,
Our warmest, purest thanks be brought,
Through Jesus Christ our Lord, Thy Son.

To Thee he gave his flower of youth,
To Thee his manhood’s fruit he gave,
The herald of life-giving truth,
Dead souls from deathless death to save.

Forsake him not in his old age,
But while his Master’s Cross he bears,
Faith be his staff on pilgrimage,
A crown of glory his grey hairs.

With holier zeal his heart enlarge,
Though strength decay, and sight grow dim,
That we, the people of his charge,
May glorify Thy grace in him.

So, when his warfare here shall cease,
By suffering perfected in love,
His ransom’d soul shall join in peace
The Church of the first-born above.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Almost Nine Months

Late last year I was asked to fill the pulpit of a small church that had lost its pastor. After one visit, the church’s pulpit committee asked me to cover the month of January. During my second week, the pulpit committee asked whether I would become the church’s interim pastor. I have now been ministering in the congregation for nearly nine months.

This was a small church to begin with, and COVID cut its attendance drastically. On a very good Sunday the congregation will number in the twenties. The members understand that their church cannot pay a full-time pastor under the present circumstances.

Some might suggest that the church could be closed, since there are a couple of other good churches within a fifteen-mile radius. The members don’t see it that way. They believe that their church has a unique identity and can fulfill a unique calling. Furthermore, the church’s building is located on a major highway that represents one of the growth corridors for the MSP metroplex. That alone is good reason to try to preserve a witness in this location.

As for me, I am happy to do all that I can to help keep the church’s doors open. I’ve been teaching Sunday School and preaching in the Sunday morning service. We have reinstituted the midweek prayer meeting, at which I present another weekly Bible study. The church’s leadership has recently begun conversations about reopening an afternoon service on Sundays.

In addition to the preaching ministry, I’ve tried to become active in the lives of the church’s members. The biggest problem here is distance. The church building is nearly an hour from my home, and most of the members live even further away than that. Still, my wife and I have sought interaction with these folks wherever and whenever that has been possible.

While the membership is small, the church presents the usual challenges that any pastor might expect. Sometimes people pull in different directions. Some have fears for which they need assurance. Some carry hurts for which they need healing and counsel. All need feeding. So far, however, the members of this congregation have shown exceptional deference to each other and to me. No overt conflicts appear to be brooding beneath the surface.

This church prefers to use the King James Bible for its services. While it was not originally planted as a King James Only church, a previous pastor led it in that direction. When I began ministering in January, its confession of faith included a rather strongly-worded assertion of King-James-Onlyism. The church has subsequently amended its confession to remove that statement, which most of the members did not even understand. In the meanwhile, no one (including me) plans to abandon the use of the KJV.

As might be expected, the pulpit committee has asked whether I would be willing to candidate for the pastorate. For the moment, I have taken a rain check on that question. I am leading the church through a series of lessons to try to cultivate a particular philosophy of ministry. This series will acquaint the church with the kind of ministry that I want to have. I am hoping that it will also solidify the congregation’s thinking in terms of the kind of pastor they want to find.

Since this church cannot pay a pastor a full salary, their options are limited. They could find a pastor who is willing to support himself by working an outside job (or whose wife is willing to). Alternatively, they could find a pastor who has some other source of outside income. A retired pastor would certainly be an option. I wish that I knew of such individuals whom I could recommend to the church.

In the meanwhile, I would like to steer the church away from looking for a pastor who will take them back into King-James-Onlyism. My reason is that I have learned to care about these people. I want to see them led in good and biblical directions by a gentle under-shepherd. I want to see them taught well. I want to see them growing in the faith and in their walk with God. I want to see the church prosper under the leadership of someone who can devote more attention to it than I am able.

Because of the distances involved, I cannot really give the church all the ministry that it needs. The situation is further complicated by responsibilities that I must not shirk as a seminary professor. Still, even a partial ministry may be better than no ministry—or, worse yet, a destructive ministry. If no other options present themselves soon, I may well allow the pulpit committee to present me to the church as a candidate, if they are still so minded.

Even if I do, and even if the church calls me, I have told the pulpit committee that I come with an expiration date. I’m not sure exactly when it will be, but I am already at the age when most people retire. Even if called as the pastor, I will in effect continue to be an interim whose main duty will be to find a more permanent solution for this congregation.

As the Lord brings my situation to mind—which is also the church’s situation—I would appeal for your prayers. This is one of those times when both the church and I need wisdom and guidance from the Lord. A bit of providential intervention would not go amiss, either. It’s a small congregation, but it is a church of Jesus Christ, and one that He loves. By His grace I want to see it prosper.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


With Stately Towers and Bulwarks Strong

Harriet Auber (1773–1862)

With stately towers and bulwarks strong,
Unrivalled and alone—
Loved theme oft for the sacred song—
God’s holy city shone.

Thus fair was Zion’s chosen seat,
The glory of all lands;
Yet fairer, and in strength complete,
The Christian temple stands.

The faithful of each clime and age
This glorious church compose;
Built on the Rock—with idle rage
The threat’ning tempest blows.

Fear not: though hostile bands alarm,
Thy God is thy defense:
And weak and powerless every arm
Against Omnipotence.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Nothing to See Here!

It must be hard work to write investigative reporting in the evangelical world. To be sure, evangelicalism has its share of scandals, just as all branches of professing Christianity always have. For example, when Pastor So-and-So runs off with the church secretary, it is a sleazy episode that lends itself to salacious prattle. But it is not news. We have seen so many church leaders manifest goatish behavior that it ceases to surprise us. Reporting the moral failures of Christian leaders hardly requires the persistence, skill, or dedication of a Woodward or Bernstein.

Consequently, most evangelical investigative reporting rarely rises above the level of grapevine chatter. Sometimes it does not even rise that high. One example is a recent report that appeared on an evangelical blog that claims to be devoted to investigative journalism. The report charges that over several years, a particular evangelical institution of higher learning awarded honorary doctorates to people who may not have deserved them. To make matters worse, three of the recipients either were or had been members of the school’s board.

When I saw this “investigative report,” I laughed out loud. That an educational institution awarded honorary doctorates to its own (possibly undeserving) trustees is not news, it is business as usual. To cite only one example, Wheaton College has awarded hundreds of honorary doctorates since 1874. Whether all of these recipients were deserving is a matter of judgment, but in at least some cases the degrees were awarded largely on the basis of who the recipient was related to. For good or for ill, that is how recipients of honorary degrees are sometimes chosen. One college even awarded on honorary doctorate to an evangelist’s horse.

As a collegian I was only dimly aware that some doctorates are honorary. I discovered this fact when I learned that one of my professors (Bernard Bancroft) had been awarded a doctorate, but he refused to allow anyone to address him as doctor. When I asked him why, he told me that he didn’t want to demean that accomplishment of people who had actually worked to earn their terminal degrees.

Discovering the distinction between earned and honorary doctorates was illuminating. I still recall one of my seminary professor’s evaluation of honorary doctorates: “Some schools hand them out like chocolates out of a box.” That was when I learned that most doctorates claimed by evangelical leaders are honorary. For example, the world’s most famous evangelist was regularly addressed as the “Rev. Dr. Billy Graham,” although he had never qualified for an earned doctorate. A short list of other evangelical figures who were (or are) regularly addressed as doctors included James M. Gray, Carl McIntire, Robert T. Ketcham, Stephen W. Paine, Torrey M. Johnson, Josh McDowell, Joseph M. Stowell III, and John M. Frame. I can remember a time when advertisements for the big Sword of the Lord conference would feature a list of speakers, every one of whom had “Dr.” in front of his name, but few of whom had ever done legitimate postgraduate work.

Should recipients of honorary doctorates call themselves doctors? These days, the practice is frowned upon today as a breach of etiquette, somewhat akin to selecting the wrong fork at a formal dinner. Nevertheless, Benjamin Franklin styled himself as Doctor Franklin, and Samuel Johnson did similarly. Heads of evangelical service organizations—especially schools—have regularly used the title doctor, or it has been used of them. Examples include Lewis Sperry Chafer (Dallas Theological Seminary), James T. Jeremiah (Cedarville College/University), Louis Talbot (Bible Institute of Los Angeles/Biola University), Charles U. Wagner (Northwest Seminary; Grand Rapids Baptist College/Cornerstone University), L. John Miles (Grand Rapids School of Bible and Music), Milo Thompson (Baptist Bible College/Clarks Summit University), Roger J. Andrus (Calvary Bible College), David Nettleton (Faith Baptist Bible College), all three generations of the Bob Jones dynasty, including Sr., Jr., and III (Bob Jones University), and William Fusco (Denver Baptist Bible College and Theological Seminary). One can always find stuffy academics who object to this practice, but the general public seems more than willing to address most holders of honorary doctorates as doctor.

The founder and first president of Central Baptist Theological Seminary of Minneapolis was Richard Volley Clearwaters. He did all the course work toward a doctorate at the University of Chicago, but he never finished the program. Instead, he was given an honorary doctorate from a different institution. For the rest of his life he was customarily addressed as “Doc” by nearly everyone who knew him (he was also sometimes called Coeur de Lion, but not to his face).

Whether these individuals’ use of the title doctor displays poor form is a matter of taste and judgment. Whether it violates any laws or ethical standards is not: people with honorary doctorates have a perfect legal and ethical right to call themselves doctors. There is nothing scandalous in the practice. If they do, it is no more worth reporting than if a gentleman wears the wrong color tie with his shirt.

In theory, honorary doctorates ought to be awarded to individuals who have made contributions that might normally have been expected from someone who had earned a doctorate. Determining what is an equivalent contribution, however, is a subjective matter—especially considering how little some Ph.D. holders themselves contribute. Consequently, awarding these degrees may provoke disagreement over whether a particular recipient was genuinely worthy. These disagreements are not newsworthy, and (with the possible exception of the evangelist’s horse) they are certainly not scandalous.

Some schools simply do not award honorary doctorates. The college from which I graduated has, during the past half century, awarded only one (the recipient was deserving). In the seminary that I presently serve (Central Baptist Theological Seminary), all recipients of honorary doctorates are nominated by the faculty, and we normally award honorary degrees only to people who already have doctorates. We have granted only a handful of such diplomas over the years.

To recapitulate, an “investigative reporter” has discovered that, over a process of years, a college awarded honorary doctorates to individuals who may not have deserved them. Three of these recipients were board members of the institution. At least some of them may have begun to use the title doctor for themselves. This is not news. This is not scandal. Nothing nefarious is happening. There is no story here. Whatever kind of appetite this sort of “investigative reporting” feeds, it is not one that will nourish biblical Christianity.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Amid the Thronging Worshipers

Psalter, 1912

Amid the thronging worshipers
Jehovah will I bless;
before my brethren, gathered here
His Name will I confess.
Come, praise Him, ye that fear the LORD,
ye children of His grace;
with rev’rence sound His glories forth
And bow before His face.

The burden of the sorrowful
The LORD will not despise;
He has not turned from those that mourn,
He hearkens to their cries.
His goodness makes me join the throng
where saints His praise proclaim,
and there will I fulfill my vows
’mid those who fear His Name.

He feeds with good the humble soul
and satisfies the meek,
and they shall live and praise the LORD
who for His mercy seek.
The ends of all the earth take thought,
the nations seek the LORD;
they worship Him, the King of kings,
in earth and heav’n adored.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

It’s Not News

Over the past several weeks I have become aware that something is going on at an important Baptist church in my area—a church that shall not be named. Apparently, the senior pastor and other staff resigned. Members were upset. Accusations were made against other members and against pastors. People left the church, and when they left, they complained to the press. Reporters and pundits picked up the story, which has appeared in blogs and national publications.

People have begun asking me what I think about the church-that-shall-not-be-named. I have an answer to that question. I am now going to state my answer publicly.

I don’t have an opinion.

It’s true. I have opinions about all kinds of things. I have an opinion about Jello (and that opinion is not good). I have an opinion about golf (b-o-r-i-n-g). I have an opinion about J. S. Bach (greatest composer in history). I have opinions about jumbo shrimp, military intelligence, and CCM (all oxymorons). But I do not have an opinion about what’s going on in the church-that-shall-not-be-named.

One often hears that everyone has a right to an opinion. Baloney. To be entitled to an opinion, one must first meet at least three qualifications.

First, one must be addressing a matter that is subject to opinion. A genuine opinion involves a matter of value, not of fact. The sum of one plus one is not subject to opinion. The speed of light is not subject to opinion. The specific gravity of nitric acid is not a matter of opinion. These are matters of fact.

Sometimes a matter of fact is unknown, but it is still not subject to opinion. It is subject to guesses. If these guesses are sufficiently informed, they may qualify as hypotheses. But they are still guesses and not opinions.

Second, to have a right to an opinion one must be correctly informed. An opinion is an informed, reasoned position on a matter of value. People who express themselves on matters of which they are ignorant do not have opinions. They have prejudices. Prejudices are not opinions. They are assertions of uninformed preference. People who demand that such prejudices be respected can rightly be labeled as bigots. Bigotry is not the expression of opinion. It is the forcible assertion of prejudice. Most people who think that they have a right to an opinion really want a right to bigotry. While expressions of bigotry are mostly legal, people who think they have a right to have such eructations heard are badly mistaken.

Third, to have a right to an opinion, one must be addressing an issue in which one has a legitimate interest. In other words, we have no right to an opinion about matters that are none of our business. Prurience is not a legitimate interest. The public has no right to know most things. People who itch with curiosity about things that are none of their business are some of the most destructive people in the world. Expressions of opinion about matters that are none of our business are mere meddling. Meddling in other people’s affairs is like taking a pit bull by the ears. It is never a virtue.

This is particularly true in the case of a local congregation, a church of Jesus Christ. Each individual church is ultimately accountable to Christ as its head. The authority of the head is mediated through the congregation as taught biblically by the pastor or pastors. Pastoral authority comes strictly from teaching and example; it is never fiat authority. Under Christ, the congregation must hear and decide all disputes within the body. None of us has a right to an opinion in the inner affairs of another church.

“But wait!” you say. “Don’t we judge other churches all the time? Don’t we evaluate them by what their pastors preach and by what they do? Don’t we rejoice when they are blessed? Don’t we grieve when they are troubled?”

Indeed we do. But these evaluations always involve one of two things. They are based either upon public words and positions (as opposed to inner church conversations), or else they are based upon information that the church has chosen to make public. If a church decides to change its standards for admitting members, that is a public matter. If a church decides to reframe its doctrinal statement, that is a public matter. If a church asks other churches for prayer or counsel, that is a public matter. The inner struggles and decisions of the congregation, however, are the church’s business alone.

Furthermore, unless some criminal activity has occurred, there is no higher court of appeal than the local church. When the congregation has delivered its decision, the duty of each member is to submit. Members who believe that the decision is seriously wrong must leave peaceably.

Of course, the recalcitrant often look for ways to escape their plain duties. One of the most popular escapes these days is found in the accusation of “spiritual abuse.” Now, I believe that there is such a thing as spiritual abuse, and I encourage people to leave spiritually abusive situations. Nevertheless, about ninety percent of the time, someone who mutters, “spiritual abuse,” really means, “I didn’t get my way and I’m mad about it.” In any event, the legitimacy of this claim can hardly ever be evaluated by those outside the situation itself—certainly not by those who practice “investigative reporting.”

A church member can take no worse action than to carry complaints and disputes beyond the congregation itself. To bring other members into civil litigation is evil. It is inexcusable. To carry complaints to the press—whether secular or religious, whether print or electronic—is worse. It is contemptible. To involve the media in the attempt to sway the internal decisions of a church is worst of all. It is argumentum ad odio, an appeal to bigotry, and it is a shameful thing for a supposed Christian to do.

I do not know what is going on at the church-that-shall-not-be-named. I have no intention of trying to find out what is going on at the church-that-shall-not-be-named. The inner workings of the church-that-shall-not-be-named are none of my business. For me to intrude into them would be to violate the sovereign autonomy of that congregation as a church of Jesus Christ. I have no right to be informed. Because I have no right to be informed, I have no right to an opinion.

Nevertheless, people have bombarded me with copies of articles and links to electronic media, all of which pretend that they are able to opine upon the inner workings of the church-that-shall-not-be-named. These blogs, podcasts, and articles have been thrust into my consciousness, and about them I do have an opinion. These putative expressions of opinion, these “investigative reports,” are one and all of the same moral quality, and that quality is damnable. “The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell.”

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Comfort, Comfort Ye My People

Johann Olearius (1611–1684); tr. Catherine Winkworth (1827–1878)

Comfort, comfort ye my people,
speak ye peace, thus saith our God;
comfort those who sit in darkness,
mourning ‘neath their sorrow’s load.
Speak ye to Jerusalem
of the peace that waits for them;
tell her that her sins I cover,
and her warfare now is over.

Yea, her sins our God will pardon,
blotting out each dark misdeed;
all that well deserved his anger
he no more will see or heed.
She hath suffered many a day
now her griefs have passed away;
God will change her pining sadness
into ever-springing gladness.

For the herald’s voice is crying
in the desert far and near,
bidding all men to repentance,
since the kingdom now is here.
O that warning cry obey!
Now prepare for God a way;
let the valleys rise to meet him,
and the hills bow down to greet him.

Make ye straight what long was crooked,
make the rougher places plain;
let your hearts be true and humble,
as befits his holy reign.
For the glory of the Lord
now o’er earth is shed abroad;
and all flesh shall see the token,
that his word is never broken.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Survivor Bias

During a recent conversation, a friend and I were reminiscing about some of the hazards we had faced as children. I’ve heard my parents tell about a couple of occasions when, as a baby, I was dropped on my head (which probably explains some things). I can recall being kept home from school for contracting chicken pox, mumps, and measles. I can also remember falling out of the hay loft onto a disc harrow below (I was saved from being maimed by my BB gun, which landed between me and the blades). Then there was the time that I climbed an old beech tree, slipped near the top, and banged into what seemed like every limb on the way down. Oh, and I can recall being in a car crash, long before seat belts were even an option in most cars.

As I recounted these incidents to my friend and he told me his stories, I commented, “You know, we’ve survived a lot of stuff.” He replied, “Aha! That’s survivor bias!” It really wasn’t, because I do recognize the hazardous nature of at least some of the events I survived. Survivor bias, however, occurs when people discount the seriousness of the hazards because they overlook the victims who did not survive. Survivor bias is widespread for one simple reason: survivors are present to talk about their experiences, while no one speaks for those who did not survive.

Failure to recognize survivor bias can skew the evaluation of events and institutions. For example, imagine that a hospital conducts a study of people who have fallen from various heights. It admits patients who have fallen one story and who show minor injuries. It admits patients who have fallen two stories and who show serious injuries. It admits patients who have fallen three stories and who show grave injuries. Yet the hospital admits no patients at all who have fallen from four stories or more. As the result of this study, it concludes that falling from four stories or more results in no injuries at all. Would anyone find this conclusion persuasive?

The answer is obvious. Those who fell from four stories or higher did not survive. They were not admitted to the hospital as patients because they were taken to mortuaries instead. No one is there to speak for them. Any failure to account for the silence of the dead will result in a seriously flawed perception of the risk of falling.

I wonder whether we do not have something of a survivor bias in our ministries. I believe that I have seen it at work in some churches. For example, I once had the opportunity to observe an independent Baptist church in a major Southern city. The preaching focused on three themes: get saved, get right, and get busy. Biblical exposition was considered offensive. The pastor thought that he should lead by telling people what to do, even in their private choices. Every service ended with an attempt to get all attendees to “go to the altar.” Discipleship consisted of being sent out for bus visitation on Thursday night. Members who wearied of the regimen were told that they needed to get right and get busy.

At one time this church managed to attract large crowds. At its high point, one out of every four homes in the city had someone attending its services. It baptized dozens of people some Sundays. The church prided itself on its success, and it put itself forward as a model for other churches to emulate.

After a time, however, I became aware of another dynamic in the church. The church was crowding people in the front door, but at a certain point it began to lose people out the back door just as rapidly. Most people could not stand up to the weekly barrage of high-pressure tactics. They burnt out and left, and when they left, they didn’t just leave that church. Very often they left Christianity altogether.

The church had a core of people who thrived on its vision of ministry. They tended to be Type-A personalities, the sort of people who loved working in management and in sales. They prided themselves upon the apparent success of the ministry. They tended to see themselves as the cause of its success. They were the epitome of survivor bias.

Over the years, this particular ministry damaged far more people than it helped. In fact, it often did some damage even to the people it did help. I would meet former members and attendees all over the community. When it came to spiritual discussions, they were among the most closed people I have ever met. They carried with them a deep hurt and they associated that hurt with Christianity in general.

The example I have chosen is deliberately extreme. I wonder, though, how often we allow survivor bias to creep into our evaluation of our own ministries. We tend to think that people who flourish are being helped to grow because of the excellence of our ministry. At the same time, we tend to think that people who leave have departed because of some defect in them. But what if it’s the other way around?

True, some people make bad choices, even under good ministries. When they do, they alone are responsible for the consequences. But some people also make good choices, even under very bad ministries. Their good choices are testimony to the power of the Word and the Spirit, and not to the validity of the ministry under which they were made. When we wish to evaluate our own ministries, we should never be content simply to point only to the survivors. We must consider the people whom our ministries have failed, hurt, or even destroyed along the way.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Psalm 91

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Ye sons of men, a feeble race,
Exposed to every snare,
Come, make the Lord your dwelling-place,
And try and trust his care.

No ill shall enter where you dwell;
Or if the plague come nigh,
And sweep the wicked down to hell,
‘Twill raise his saints on high.

He’ll give his angels charge to keep
Your feet in all their ways;
To watch your pillow while you sleep,
And guard your happy days.

Their hands shall bear you, lest you fall
And dash against the stones:
Are they not servants at his call,
And sent t’ attend his sons?

Adders and lions ye shall tread;
The tempter’s wiles defeat;
He that hath broke the serpent’s head
Puts him beneath your feet.

"Because on me they set their love,
I’ll save them," saith the Lord;
"I’ll bear their joyful souls above
Destruction and the sword.

"My grace shall answer when they call,
In trouble I’ll be nigh;
My power shall help them when they fall,
And raise them when they die.

"Those that on earth my name have known
I’ll honor them in heav’n;
There my salvation shall be shown,
And endless life be giv’n."

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Was It Worth It?

The world watches in fascinated horror as the United States abandons its ally of nearly two decades. Enemy fighters are sweeping in, atrocities are being committed, and confusion reigns. Afghan women, non-Muslims, and trapped Americans can expect nothing but terror. The American authorities will not lift a finger to help them.

This is what happens when America betrays its allies. This is a tiny glimpse of what will happen if the United States wavers in Israel, Korea, or Taiwan. Here is proof positive to all of America’s allies that the United States cannot be trusted to keep its promises. It is also confirmation to America’s enemies that our nation no longer possesses the will to persevere in a difficult task.

In terms of America’s security, the clock has been turned back twenty years. Afghanistan is once again a rogue state. Within a short time it will again play host to terrorist organizations—perhaps not Al Qaeda, but to similar bodies bent on the destruction of America. Given a stable base for planning and logistics, these organizations will doubtless attempt further 9/11 style attacks on American interests and eventually on America itself.

There is blame enough to go around. George Bush, partly blocked by Pakistan, failed to crush the Taliban while he had the chance. Barack Obama hardly tried. And as for the Trump administration, let us never forget that Donald Trump was the one who negotiated directly with the Taliban, circumventing the government of Afghanistan. His idea of “winning” was an agreement to pull American troops out of that country.

We will never know whether President Trump could have achieved an orderly withdrawal. In any case, the Biden administration clearly has not. Where exactly the blame lies is not clear. At times the President has given the impression of being non compos menta. If this impression is correct, then the real fault rests with those who have propped him up and then failed to manage this crisis in the President’s name. Whatever the situation, the botched withdrawal from Afghanistan constitutes the worst black mark against any administration since the Nixon presidency. Even Jimmy Carter’s bungling of the Iran hostage crisis does not compare.

Some Americans—including the President—have been whining about Afghanistan being the longest war in American history, but it isn’t. The Korean Conflict has been going on since 1950. The two Koreas are still at war, though they are not presently shooting at each other. The United States has kept troops in Korea through that entire conflict of more than seventy years. On the other hand, the American military in Afghanistan has not suffered a serious number of combat deaths since about 2014. The human cost of continuing involvement in Afghanistan was minimal.

Nevertheless, we have gone. According to some, our absence from Afghanistan comes none too soon. These individuals believe that we never had any business there, that the US presence in Afghanistan was an exercise in imperialism, and that our efforts in that country were a failure from the beginning. For years, they have argued that American involvement in Afghan affairs was not worth the cost.

No doubt a cost has been paid. I knew many people who served in Afghanistan and some who died there. Those who served sometimes returned to America with chronic health issues. Upwards of 2,300 Americans gave their lives in Afghanistan, almost 2,000 of whom were killed in action. Their sacrifice should not be dismissed. Was American involvement in Afghanistan worth this many lives and this much suffering?

To answer that question, we must decide what the American military actually accomplished in Afghanistan. Their first and most obvious accomplishment was to bring retribution upon those who planned, sponsored, and abetted the September 11 attacks. The execution of this sort of retribution is one of the God-ordained functions of civil government (Rom 13:4). When its shores were attacked and its citizens killed, the United States had a duty to bring the perpetrators and their enablers to justice. This result alone justifies the war in Afghanistan. If this result has not been accomplished fully and perfectly, it has at least been accomplished adequately.

Second, the American military presence in Afghanistan brought a rare (if temporary) breath of freedom and participatory government to the Afghan people. During the American presence, people moved about and pursued life with greater liberty than they had for years. Commerce and education flourished, at least by comparison. In particular, women enjoyed unprecedented freedom from oppression. While it will probably never be possible to erect a Western-style democracy in Afghanistan, the American presence allowed the Afghan people to approximate that ideal to a far greater degree than at any time in their nation’s history.

Third, by taking the fight to the enemy, American troops in Afghanistan built a hedge of protection around the American homeland. In the two decades since September 11, 2001, no significant attack against the United States has succeeded. US armed forces in Afghanistan defeated a serious enemy and kept that enemy at bay for twenty years. For that, all Americans owe them a debt of gratitude.

Fourth, the protection provided by American armed forces in Afghanistan has given Americans two decades to repent of their revolt against nature and nature’s God. Granted, the United States has largely squandered that opportunity. Over the past twenty years, American defiance of both divine and natural law has taken on new vehemence. Nevertheless, God is a gracious God who gives people much opportunity to repent (2 Pet 3:9). By holding the enemy at bay, the American troops in Afghanistan were a providential instrument to provide that opportunity.

Other considerations could be mentioned, but I believe these are sufficient. Any one of these would be adequate justification for American military involvement in Afghanistan. I suggest that the presence of United States troops in Afghanistan was an unqualified success both during the hostilities and after the hostilities had ended. Our presence there was not the problem. Our betrayal of our ally (and even of our own citizens) is the problem. In a word: Yes, it was worth it.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Lord God of My Salvation

Henry Francis Lyte (1793–1847)

Lord God of my salvation,
To Thee, to Thee, I cry;
Oh let my supplication
Arrest Thine ear on high.
Distresses round me thicken,
My life draws nigh the grave;
Descend, O Lord, to quicken,
Descend my soul to save.

Thy wrath lies hard upon me,
Thy billows o’er me roll,
My friends all seem to shun me,
And foes beset my soul.
Where’er on earth I turn me,
No comforter is near;
Wilt Thou too, Father, spurn me?
Wilt Thou refuse to hear?

No! banish’d and heart-broken
My soul still clings to Thee;
The promise Thou hast spoken
Shall still my refuge be.
So present ills and terrors
My future joy increase,
And scourge me from my errors
To duty, hope, and peace.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Response to Criticisms: Conclusion

[Because we experienced technical challenges publishing this essay, we are publishing it again this week to ensure that all of our subscribers receive it.]

In 2013, the American Council of Christian Churches published a “whitepaper” on The Bible Doctrine of Separation. Among other things, this paper critiqued my defense of fundamentalism. The core of the critique was contained in the following paragraphs:

Some have emphasized the gospel as the touchstone of orthodoxy. One author used this emphasis in a recent defense of fundamentalism, “The thing that is held in common by all Christians—the thing that constitutes the church as one church—is the gospel itself” [I am footnoted here]. None would deny the importance of the gospel to this question [ecclesiastical separation from false teachers], but the gospel is only one-third of the concerns raised by the apostle Paul in Corinth: “For if he that cometh preacheth another Jesus, who we have not preached, or if ye receive another spirit, which ye have not received, or another gospel, which ye have not accepted, ye might well bear with him” (2 Cor. 11:4).

So where many fundamentalists today are focused on a single category of theology, soteriology, the apostle Paul was focused on at least three: Christology, revelation, and soteriology. Consequently, the gospel-centric approach to ecclesiastical separation is an inadequate summary of the Bible doctrine.

The authors of this document appear to have believed that they disagreed with me. They claimed that the substance of this disagreement focuses on 2 Corinthians 11:4 which, as they understood it, specified three grounds of separation (soteriology, Christology, and revelation) rather than the one (the gospel) that I had advocated. Having spent several weeks examining 2 Corinthians 11:4, I now wish to loop back to the ACCC white paper and to summarize where, in my opinion, the ACCC and I both agree and disagree.

On the disagreement side of the ledger, we are obviously reading 2 Corinthians 11:4 somewhat differently. This text is, after all, the hub of the ACCC argument against me. I believe, however, that this disagreement is more superficial than substantial. In fact, I think that it is really nothing but a quibble. The difference lies in the weight we put on the term gospel.

Evidently, the authors of the white paper understood my reference to the gospel to be restricted to soteriology. Otherwise, their argument simply makes no sense. I can only surmise that they equate the gospel with something like the plan of salvation—or at least they assumed that I did.

As I have explained at length, however, I see the gospel in broader terms. The gospel focuses on events, supported by evidences, elucidated by correct explanations, and resting upon implicit doctrinal assumptions. These assumptions are so inextricably tied to the gospel that they are essential to it. To deny one of the assumptions is to deny the gospel itself. These assumptions reach not only into soteriology but also into bibliology, theology proper, Christology, pneumatology, anthropology, hamartiology, and eschatology. At least some doctrines in each of these disciplines are essential to the gospel, and at least some doctrines within the discipline of soteriology are not.

My reading of 2 Corinthians 11:4 sees Paul specifying three areas that are all important because of their relationship to the gospel. One is the gospel itself. Another concerns the person of Christ, which is obviously essential to the gospel The third involves the Holy Spirit. While Paul does not specify which aspect of the Spirit’s work he has in view, a survey of the New Testament discloses several ministries of the Spirit that occur in connection with faith in the gospel. In other words, I do not believe that the white paper’s citation of 2 Corinthians 11:4 counts against my thesis.

The point to note, however, is that the authors of the white paper and I do not disagree over the substance of separation. If the gospel is defined strictly in terms of the plan of salvation, then I am more than prepared to admit that Christians have other grounds of fellowship and ought to recognize other grounds of separation. In other words, I am prepared to concede the ACCC’s point, given the white paper’s implicit definition of the gospel. I would hope that the authors of the white paper would also be prepared to concede my point, given my more inclusive definition of the gospel.

I should also add that I have never argued that the gospel is the only ground for limiting fellowship. Even gospel believers sometimes disagree about aspects of the faith (the whole counsel of God). Even if those differences are over issues that are less essential than the gospel, they may still be important to varying degrees. Such differences may well place limitations upon fellowship and may even require separate organization at some levels. These limitations and separate organizations can rightly be called separation.

A good example of limited fellowship can be found in the membership of the ACCC itself. The membership of the ACCC includes Christians who are convinced that baptizing anyone other than professing believers is a sin. The ACCC also includes Christians who believe that denying baptism to the infant children of church members is a sin. Christians who hold these opposite positions cannot both maintain clear consciences and live peacefully as covenant members of the same churches. Their difference demands separation at the levels of church leadership and membership. Nevertheless, they can and do maintain fellowship at the level of ACCC membership. The reason is that the purpose and function of the ACCC differs from the purpose and function of local church leadership and membership.

The position that I have sketched here (among other places) is known as secondary separation. The ACCC wishes to defend secondary separation as thoroughly biblical. I agree with that commitment. While not every application of secondary separation by every fundamentalist has necessarily been faithful to scripture, the idea of secondary separation is part and parcel of a biblical understanding of Christian fellowship.

To be fair, in my chapter and replies in Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism, I did not develop a detailed theory of secondary separation. I articulated only enough of it to illustrate the difference between fundamentalists and conservative (the book says confessional) evangelicals. There simply wasn’t space to go into greater detail. Perhaps the authors of the white paper took this omission as a denial—I don’t really know.

What I do know is that I am about as happy with the ACCC as I am with any Christian organization. I don’t know of any other organization that tries to do what the American Council does, while simultaneously remaining as close to a biblical view of fellowship and separation. If the authors of the white paper wish to pursue this discussion any further, I would be happy to engage them in a cordial and fraternal manner. In the meanwhile, I see no reason to back away from my fellowship with the American Council of Christian Churches.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


This Is Not My Place of Resting

Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

This is not my place of resting,
Mine’s a city yet to come;
Onward to it I am hasting,
On to my eternal home.

In it all is light and glory,
O’er it all a nightless day;
Every trace of sin’s sad story,
All the curse hath passed away.

There the Lamb, our Shepherd, leads us,
By the streams of life along,—
In the freshest pasture feeds us,
Turns our sighing into song.

Soon we pass this desert dreary,
Soon we bid farewell to pain;
Never more are sad and weary,
Never, never sin again.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

Honor to Whom Honor Is Due

As you receive In the Nick of Time this week, I will be traveling in Colorado, but I won’t be on vacation. I will be visiting the old Briargate Post Office in Colorado Springs. Why travel to Colorado just to visit a post office? Well, this post office is special. It is being renamed in honor of Chaplain (Capt.) Dale Goetz.

Dale was both a student and a friend. I met him when I came to teach at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. He had graduated from Maranatha Baptist Bible College. He and his wife Christy had moved to Minnesota for seminary. They were attending Southview Baptist Church, and Dale was working at Lyndale Hardware in Richfield.

In the fall of 1998 I had just bought a HUD home that needed considerable repair. Dale volunteered to ask his employer if I could have some of their “mis-tint” paint for my home renovation. A few days later he told me, “There’s good news and there’s bad news. The good news is that you can have the paint. The bad news is that you have to take all of it.” Thanks to Dale we came away with over twenty gallons of various tints, shades, and textures of paint and stain. By judiciously combining them we were eventually able to use them all.

Dale had been in the Air Force before experiencing his call to ministry. With his military background, I asked him to think about military chaplaincy. That avenue of ministry did not seem appealing to him at the time, but he kept it in the back of his mind, and we discussed it occasionally.

After he graduated from Central Seminary, Dale took the pastorate of First Baptist Church in White, South Dakota. He stayed in White for about three years, and it was during those years that his interest in chaplaincy really began to grow. In 2004 he joined the chaplain corps of the United States Army. Over the next six years he deployed to Okinawa, Iraq, and Afghanistan. He served as the chaplain for the 1st Battalion, 66th Armor Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, with the 4th Infantry Division of Fort Carson, Colorado.

Dale and Christy had three sons over the years. Landon was born in Minneapolis after Dale’s graduation. Caleb was born in White, South Dakota. Joel was born in Okinawa, about a year before Dale deployed to Afghanistan. While Dale was in Afghanistan, his family settled in Colorado Springs. On August 29, 2010, they were received into membership at High Country Baptist Church, pastored by Jason Parker.

Dale had a reputation as a soldier’s chaplain. The story is that the troops called him the “chaplain with dirty boots” because of the time he spent in active ministry. His goal was to lead three hundred soldiers to Christ and to see ten of them go into ministry. Dale also longed to see Muslims saved. He regularly prayed for them (he even prayed for the salvation of Osama Bin Laden), and he shared the gospel with insurgents.

On August 30, 2010 (the day after Dale’s family joined High Country Baptist Church), Dale was outside the wire near the Arghandab River valley in Kandahar. He had been in Afghanistan only a month, and he was on his way to minister to soldiers. The HUM-V that he was riding in detonated a roadside bomb. He and four soldiers who were with him died in the blast. Dale became the first American chaplain to die in combat since Viet Nam.

Dale’s memorial service was held in Colorado Springs. I had the privilege of attending it. The service was packed with high-ranking officers and public dignitaries, including Colorado’s governor. In Minnesota, Governor Mark Dayton issued a proclamation recognizing Dale’s sacrifice and ordering flags within the state to be flown at half-mast.

More than ten years later, Colorado Congressman Doug Lamborn decided that Dale should have a more permanent memorial. He introduced a bill into Congress to rename the old Briargate Post Office the “Chaplain (Capt.) Dale Goetz Memorial Post Office Building.” The bill passed both houses with bipartisan support. The honor is fitting for someone who served as Dale did.

Since I was president of Central Seminary at the time of Dale’s death, I was asked to represent the seminary at the dedication of this building. Since I am a chaplain in the Air Force Auxiliary (the Civil Air Patrol) I was also asked to represent the CAP Chaplain Corps and Chaplain (Col.) John Murdoch, Chief of Chaplains. It was my privilege today to fulfill both of those roles.

Dale’s funeral was a sorrowful occasion. The dedication of this post office is a joyful one, because it involves public recognition of Dale’s contributions as a military chaplain. Recognition is cause for rejoicing. Much more joyful will be Dale’s recognition at the judgment seat of Christ. That will be a ceremony worth attending.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Now May the God of Peace and Love

Thomas Gibbons (1720–1785)

Now may the God of peace and love,
Who from th’ imprisoning grave
Restored the Shepherd of the sheep,
Omnipotent to save;

Through the rich merits of that blood,
Which He on Calvary spilt,
To make the eternal covenant sure,
On which our hopes are built;

Perfect our souls in every grace,
To accomplish all His will;
And all that’s pleasing in His sight,
Inspire us to fulfil.

For the great Mediator’s sake
We every blessing pray;
With glory let His name be crown’d,
Through heaven’s eternal day.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Response to Criticisms: Another Spirit

As we have seen, 2 Corinthians 11:4 refers to “another Jesus, whom we have not preached” and “another gospel, which ye have not accepted.” I have argued that Paul is not referring to two different things. The identity of Christ is bound up in the truth of the gospel. The Jesus of Arius cannot save. The Jesus of Apollinaris cannot save. The Jesus of Joseph Smith cannot save. To preach one of those men’s Jesus is effectively to accept a false gospel.

Paul also refers to “another spirit, which ye have not received.” What spirit is he talking about? Does this other spirit also entail the rejection of the gospel? If so, how?

This is one of the most controversial questions about 2 Corinthians 11:4. Some commentators believe that Paul is referring to a demonic spirit. Others believe that he is referring to an attitude that is incompatible with true Christianity. Still others believe that Paul is talking about false views of the Holy Spirit, views that were part of the heresy invading the Corinthian church.

Each of these three alternatives would affect the gospel message. Clearly, receiving a demonic spirit would be incompatible with faith in the gospel. Furthermore, in 1 Corinthians, Paul makes it clear that certain attitudes such as greed, argumentativeness, and abusiveness are incompatible with a profession of the gospel (1 Cor 5:9–11). If the “other spirit” of 2 Corinthians 11:4 is either a demonic spirit or a destructive attitude, it would constitute a practical denial of the gospel.

What if the “spirit” of 2 Corinthians 11:4 is the Holy Spirit? In that case, this text would mean that the Corinthian church was in danger of redefining or rejecting some ministry of the Holy Spirit that is essential to the gospel. This is not surprising, since the New Testament associates several ministries of the Spirit with salvation.

According to Romans 8:9, all present-day believers are permanently indwelt by the Holy Spirit. This indwelling is strongly connected to our salvation. Paul makes it clear that a person who is not indwelt by the Spirit does not even belong to Christ. Consequently, to deny that the Spirit indwells all believers at salvation is to commit a fairly serious error. It is to deny one of the effects of the gospel.

Another ministry that the Holy Spirit performs at salvation is baptizing. He baptizes or immerses all believers into the one body of Christ (1 Cor. 12:13 cf Eph 2:16–18; 4:3–6). This baptizing work of the Spirit produces the fundamental unity of the Church. Since this ministry applies to all believers and to only believers, it must take place at the instant of salvation. To deny the Spirit’s role in baptizing believers into the body of Christ is a rather important error and it denies one of the effects of the gospel.

Still another ministry that the Spirit performs at salvation is His sealing (2 Cor 1:22; Eph 1:13–14; 4:30). Properly speaking, the Holy Spirit is Himself the seal, applied by God, to certify our safe delivery to God’s purpose. Along with being our seal, the Spirit is also our earnest or down-payment, a guarantee of our full inheritance to come. Denying that the Spirit is our seal and down-payment is another serious theological error. It too entails a denial of one of the effects of the gospel.

Yet another work that the Spirit performs at the moment of salvation is regeneration. Indeed, the Spirit is Himself the agent of regeneration who creates new life and births us into the family of God (John 1:12–13; 3:7–8). We may quibble about the juxtaposition of faith and regeneration in the ordo salutis, but we must recognize that we do not regenerate ourselves. Any attempt to tie regeneration to a human work (such as baptismal regeneration) is a fundamental error that denies the gospel itself.

Paul could be thinking of any of the above when he cautions the Corinthians against receiving “another Spirit.” None of them, however, appears in the context of Paul’s argument in 2 Corinthians. In 2 Corinthians 3, however, Paul describes another ministry of the Spirit by contrasting it with the ministry of commandments “written and engraven in stone,” a clear reference to the Decalogue.

In this passage Paul is clearly responding to an attempt to make sanctification the effect of law-keeping. In his response, Paul never denigrates the Law. In fact, he makes the point that the Law (specifically the Ten Commandments) was glorious. It came as a brilliant disclosure of the moral nature of God.

The problem was that the Law had no power to enable obedience. It was a glorious revelation, but no sinner could live up to its glory. Consequently, all the Law could do for sinners was to condemn them. While glorious, it was a ministry of death.

Paul’s point is that the Holy Spirit is better than the Law. The Law was tied to the Old (Sinai) Covenant, but the Spirit has a New Covenant kind of ministry (v. 6). The Law kills, but the Spirit gives life (v. 6). The Law was glorious, but the Spirit’s glory is so much greater that the Law seems like darkness in comparison (vv. 7–8, 10). The Law had a ministry that produced condemnation, but the Holy Spirit has a ministry that produces righteousness (v. 9). The ministry of the Law was always meant to be temporary, but the ministry of the Spirit is permanent (v. 11).

Paul’s punchline comes in 2 Corinthians 3:17. He claims that “the Lord is that Spirit,” drawing attention to the Spirit’s status as a person of the Triune Jehovah. Then he adds, “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” If this is true, then the attempt to substitute Law-keeping for the inner work of the Spirit in sanctification constitutes an implicit denial of the gospel. The gospel not only delivers us from the penalty of sin but also delivers us from sin’s power in our lives. The Spirit is the one who changes our hearts so that we truly seek to please God. He changes us in a way that external regulation never could. Anyone who teaches that we please God and become holy merely by keeping external rules and regulations is effectively denying the gospel.

Apparently the false teachers in Corinth were trying to lead believers to attain sanctification by legal means. By substituting law-keeping for the internal change made by the Spirit, these teachers were effectively redefining the Spirit and making Him into something other than the true Spirit of God. They were introducing “another spirit” of the sort that Paul references in 2 Corinthians 11:4.

In other words, Paul’s references to Jesus, the gospel, and the Spirit in 2 Corinthians 11:4 are not references to three segregated topics. Instead, these references interweave as aspects of a single discussion of the gospel. The gospel was under attack in Corinth, perhaps in multiple ways. In this text Paul is defending the gospel, not simply as the plan of salvation but as a network of theological truths that depend upon one another. This network includes truths about the Spirit of God upon which the gospel depends.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Holy Spirit, From on High

William Hiley Bathurst (1796–1877)

Holy Spirit, from on high,
Bend o’er us with pitying eye;
Animate the drooping heart;
Bid the power of sin depart.

Light up every dark recess
Of our heart’s ungodliness;
Show us every devious way
Where our steps have gone astray.

Teach us, with repentant grief,
Humbly to implore relief;
Then the Savior’s blood reveal,
And our broken spirits heal.

Other groundwork should we lay,
Sweep those empty hopes away;
Make us feel that Christ alone
Can for human guilt atone.

May we daily grow in grace,
And pursue the heavenly race,
Trained in wisdom, led by love,
Till we reach our rest above.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Response to Criticisms: Implications of the Gospel

The gospel is events. The gospel rests upon evidences. The gospel relies upon interpretations. All these elements are necessary to the gospel, rightly understood. Nevertheless, they do not exhaust a right understanding of the gospel. The gospel also rests upon a theological foundation that is implicit in the explanations.

Consider the gospel proposition, “Christ died for our sins.” This statement is freighted with meaning. For example, it implies something about us. In this statement, Paul assumes that we are sinners. He further assumes that our sins must bring dire consequences—otherwise, why should Christ die for them? He also assumes that we can do nothing to ameliorate the consequences of our own sins. Christ would not have to die for consequences that we ourselves could correct.

The statement, “Christ died for our sins,” also assumes something about the work of Christ. It is “for” our sins. Other texts define that word for. 1 Peter 2:24 says that Jesus “himself bare our sins in his own body on the tree.” In 2 Corinthians 5:21, Paul states that God has “made him [Jesus] to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” These and similar texts echo Isaiah’s teaching that “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:6). Both testaments clearly teach that the death of Jesus was substitutionary. Christ took the place of sinners. God imputed or charged the guilt of our sins to Christ, and Christ suffered the penalty in our place. Without the doctrine of a substitutionary atonement, the gospel becomes meaningless or, worse still, takes on the wrong meaning.

If the death of Jesus was “for our sins,” then He became our sin-bearer. That truth leads to another question: what sort of person is qualified to bear our sins? Obviously, a sin bearer must be personally guiltless: sinners must pay for their own sins and cannot pay for the sins of others. Sinlessness, however, is not the only qualification. There are many sinless beings. Michael is sinless. Gabriel is sinless. The cherubim and seraphim are sinless. Yet they did not and could not die for our sins.

These holy spirit beings, while sinless, are still finite persons. This finiteness matters because the guilt of our sins is infinite. The measure of guilt is the value of the being against whom a sin is committed. All sins are committed against God, and God is an infinite being of infinite value. Therefore, all sin causes infinite offense, and we bear infinite guilt. Since we bear infinite guilt, the only person who can pay for our sins must be an infinite person.

Only three infinite persons exist: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. For God’s justice to be satisfied, one of those three had to pay for our sins. The one who did was the Son. Because He is an infinite person, He could bear the infinite penalty for our guilt. The penalty was death, so Christ died for our sins. Christ’s true deity is essential to the gospel.

To be able to die, God the Son had to become mortal. To be mortal, He had to have a body. More specifically, to save humans from their sins He had to become a human Himself (Heb 2:10–14). Consequently, He added a full and complete human nature to His eternal, divine person. He now subsists as one person in two natures, fully divine and fully human, such that His person is never divided, and His natures are never confounded. All of this is essential to the gospel.

If someone asks how we know any of these things, Paul provides an answer. Our knowledge is “according to the scriptures” (1 Cor 15:3–4). Without God’s inspired Word, we would not have the divine revelation that we need to interpret the events of the gospel. The inspiration and authority of the Bible is essential to the gospel—and that includes the Bible’s inerrancy. If we cannot trust the Bible in areas of science or history that we can test and observe, then how can we trust the Bible for doctrinal explanations that we cannot observe?

One more thing. The events and explanations of the gospel do not save anyone automatically. The gospel needs to be applied to sinners, and Paul states clearly how it is applied. He says that the gospel is “received” (1 Cor 15:1) and “believed” (1 Cor 15:2). These are themes that the New Testament expands greatly elsewhere, teaching that salvation is by grace through faith and not of works (Eph 2:8–9, et al). The doctrine of justification sola fide is essential to the gospel.

As we have seen, the gospel is much, much bigger than the plan of salvation. Of course, it deals with soteriology. It also deals with topics in bibliology, anthropology, hamartiology, eschatology, theology proper, and Christology, at minimum. Consequently, when Paul, in 2 Corinthians, talks about someone who preaches another Jesus and another gospel, he is not talking about two different things. Another Jesus implies another gospel. The one is bound to the other. To say that Paul is dealing with two distinct topics, Christology and soteriology, is to commit (at minimum) an embarrassing interpretive faux pas.

But Paul also includes “another S/spirit” in this complex. Is he dealing with a separate area, pneumatology? Or is he making an oblique reference to bibliology, introducing the topic of revelation by using a circumlocution? Or is he doing something else entirely? This is the question that we will answer in the next essay.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Vain Are the Hopes

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Vain are the hopes the sons of men
On their own works have built;
Their hearts by nature all unclean,
And all their actions guilt.

Let Jew and Gentile stop their mouths
Without a murm’ring word,
And the whole race of Adam stand
Guilty before the Lord.

In vain we ask God’s righteous law
To justify us now;
Since to convince and to condemn
Is all the law can do.

Jesus, how glorious is thy grace!
When in thy name we trust,
Our faith receives a righteousness
That makes the sinner just.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Response to Criticisms: The Gospel

What is the gospel? It is more than simply the plan of salvation, but what more? This question deserves both a negative and a positive answer.

Negatively, the gospel is not the whole Christian faith. To say that all the teachings and practices of Christianity are related to the gospel is not to say that they are the gospel. Furthermore, the gospel does not consist in attempting to reproduce the conditions of the kingdom of God during the present age. Some people have mistaken “kingdom activity” such as educating the unlearned, feeding the hungry, and healing the sick for the gospel. Admirable as these activities may be, though, they are not the gospel.

Ultimately, only the Bible has the right to define the gospel. If we intend to ask the Bible what the gospel is, then we are responsible to look for an answer in the right place. What is the right place? It must be a text (or more than one) that clearly intends to define the gospel. Such a text is available in 1 Corinthians 15.

Paul opens this passage by stating that he intends to make known (the term is gnorizo) the gospel. In other words, he intends to tell his readers what the gospel is. 1 Corinthians 15 is an exercise in extended definition. What makes this exercise particularly interesting is that Paul’s readers already know and believe the plan of salvation—Paul says as much. In spite of this knowledge, however, they are on the verge of accepting a teaching that will implicitly deny the gospel. To thwart this possibility, Paul attempts to make the content of the gospel clear.

Paul’s definition of the gospel focuses first upon events. The gospel is “good news,” and news is always about something that has happened. Philosophical and theological systems do not offer news. Theories of morality or personal improvement do not offer news. Only events are news. The gospel centers upon happenings that occurred in space and time.

These events are two in number: Christ died, and Christ arose from the dead. Paul uses words like died and rose in their normal significance. When Christ died, His bodily functions ceased to operate, just as in all human deaths. His body became a corpse. When Christ arose, that same body received life again. On the Bible’s terms, neither ongoing memories about the deceased nor the ongoing life of the soul constitute a resurrection. Jesus came out of the tomb in the same body that was laid to rest there. He was dead, and now He was alive.

In case someone is inclined to question whether these events really occurred, Paul offers evidences. These evidences are the second element of the gospel. The evidence for the death of Christ is the burial—a term that encompasses more than simple interment, including all the efforts to certify the death of Jesus and to prepare His body for burial. The evidence for the resurrection consists of eyewitnesses, over five hundred of them, drawn from various times and places.

So the gospel consists, first, of events, and second, of evidences. By themselves, however, the events are entirely without value. The evidences can establish that the events occurred, but what of it? Why should anyone care?

Consider the death of Christ. That He really died is beyond question. It is also trivial. People have been dying since the first humans, Adam and Eve. Thus far, only two individuals (Enoch and Elijah) have escaped death. Millions of people died before Christ ever became incarnate. Billions of people have died since then. What does it matter that Christ died?

Paul, however, does not simply say that Christ died. He asserts that Christ died for our sins, and those extra words provide all the necessary significance. They tell us why the death of Christ mattered, and why it matters still. These words provide an explanation of the death of Christ that sets it apart from all other deaths. No one else has ever died like Christ died. He alone died for our sins.

Likewise, Paul provides an explanation of the resurrection of Jesus. Without this explanation, the resurrection would be a scientifically remarkable event, but its significance might be misconstrued (as it has been, for example, by Pinchas Lapide in The Resurrection of Jesus: A Jewish Perspective). Paul heads off misunderstanding by offering an extended discussion of the resurrection throughout the remainder of 1 Corinthians 15.

Like the events and the evidences, the explanations are essential to the gospel. To deny the events is to deny the gospel. To dispute the evidences is to dispute the gospel. To reject the explanations is to reject the gospel.

To be sure, the plan of salvation is bound up with these events, evidences, and explanations, but it is not identical with them. For example, a presentation of the plan of salvation might not include all of the evidences that are essential to the gospel. It might not include a full exposition of Paul’s explanation of the resurrection. A sinner could hear such a presentation, believe it, and be saved, all while remaining ignorant of some gospel content.

Furthermore, even the events, evidences, and explanations do not exhaust the gospel. For the explanations to work, the gospel has to rest upon a foundation of doctrinal assumptions. Without these assumptions it would crumble. In other words, the gospel implies more than it overtly states, and these implications are part of the gospel as well. It is to these implications that we shall turn in the next In the Nick of Time.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


All That I Was

Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

All that I was, my sin, my guilt,
My death, was all my own;
All that I am, I owe to Thee,
My gracious God, alone.

The evil of my former state
Was mine, and only mine;
The good in which I now rejoice
Is Thine, and only Thine.

The darkness of my former state,
The bondage, all was mine;
The light of life, in which I walk,
The liberty, is Thine.

Thy grace first made me feel my sin,
It taught me to believe;
Then, in believing, peace I found,
And now I live, I live.

All that I am, even here on earth,
All that I hope to be
When Jesus comes and glory dawns,
I owe it, Lord, to Thee.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Response to Criticisms: 2 Corinthians 11:4

Fundamentalists have not often appealed to 2 Corinthians 11:4 as a key text for their understanding of ecclesiastical separation. Even a cursory examination of the verse indicates that their reluctance has been well founded. It fairly bristles with interpretive problems, making it the sort of text that provides a hazardous foundation for a doctrinal proof.

The overall thrust of the verse is clear enough. False teachers had come to the Corinthian church, some of whose members received them with enthusiasm. The result was that many Corinthian believers were rejecting Paul’s leadership, even though he had reached them for Christ and taught them their basic doctrine. What Paul intends to do in the first part of 2 Corinthians 11 is to contrast the Corinthians’ tolerance of the false teachers with their rejection of him. In verses 5–11 Paul singles out one of the accusations leveled against him by church members at Corinth. He reminds them that his apostleship was fully on display among them (5–6). His only possible offense lay in not taking their money, instead of which he accepted help from other churches so that he could minister to them free of charge (7–9). Rather than being ashamed of this conduct, Paul was willing to boast in it, for it was motivated by love for the Corinthians (10–11). When he should have received gratitude for his personal sacrifice and labor, however, Paul had to endure rejection—the Corinthians allowed themselves to be vexed even by this imagined slight.

Verse 4 provides the contrast, showing the Corinthian attitude toward the false teachers. Paul narrows his description to a single teacher (“he that cometh”), a description that probably focuses upon a leader of his opponents. Paul supposes that this teacher has come with a particular message, and that the Corinthians can sense the falseness of the message. Nevertheless, they “might well bear with” the false teacher. This tolerance contrasts to their treatment of Paul, whom they rejected over the slightest imagined offense.

What is the content of the false message? Paul describes it in the rest of verse 4. This message consists of three elements, but Paul’s description of those elements is ambiguous enough to provoke a series of questions. The structure of Paul’s description can be charted as follows.

Actor

Action

Qualifier

Object

Description

He that cometh

Preacheth

Another
(allos)

Jesus

Whom we have not preached

You

Receive
(lambano)

Another
(heteros)

S/spirit
(pneuma)

Which ye have not received (lambano)

Unspecified

Unspecified

Another
(heteros)

Gospel

Which ye have not accepted (dechomai)

This text forces interpreters to respond to a whole list of issues. Why the shift from allos in the first element to heteros in the second and third? Why the shift in person between the first and second elements, and which person ought to be understood in the third element? In other words, was the false teacher preaching a different gospel, or were the Corinthians receiving a different gospel, or both? Should the pneuma in the second element be understood as the Holy Spirit, the human spirit, or some sort of attitude or disposition? Why the change from lambano (receive) in the second element to dechomai (welcome) in the third? These difficulties are not mere cavils: responsible commentators can be found defending each of the various options.

What is certain is that all three elements were coming from the false teacher. The Corinthians were not receiving a different S/spirit that they just thought up; they were receiving one that the false teacher suggested. They were not accepting a different gospel that they invented; they were accepting one that the false teacher proclaimed. While the Corinthian believers were responsible for their acceptance or rejection of the false message, all three elements were being proclaimed by the same false teacher.

Presumably all of these apostates were teaching the same message, but Paul focuses on one single individual. One person was teaching all three false elements. Therefore, setting these elements over against each other as if they belonged to different categories (such as Christology, revelation, and soteriology) is a serious interpretive mistake. They are not three separate teachings: they are three related dimensions of one single denial of the faith. For the Corinthians, to accept one of these false elements was implicitly to accept them all.

The interrelatedness of these elements should not surprise us. The system of Christian doctrine and practice is not simply a collection of isolated teachings. It is a web in which every single doctrine connects to every other doctrine. Consequently, every doctrine carries implications (whether directly or indirectly) for every other doctrine.

Sometimes our big theological labels stand for whole networks of doctrines. For example, the doctrine of the Trinity involves the junction between the biblical teaching of a single divine being with the Bible’s recognition of three divine persons. The deity of the Father is essential to the Trinity, but so is the full deity of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. The recognition of three divine persons and one divine being forces us to ask how God is one and how He is three. It also leads us directly to the problem of the relationship of the deity of the Son to His humanity. When we say Trinity we are not merely talking about theology proper: we are also talking about pneumatology and Christology, and those will quickly lead us to consider anthropology.

The word gospel is one of those big theological labels. A rather uninstructed Christian might hear the word gospel and automatically think something like, plan of salvation. This simple equation, however, would be a mistake. To be sure, the plan of salvation is part of the gospel, but it is not the entire gospel. To understand how it is not, and to understand what the content of the gospel is, we must next turn to a discussion of the gospel itself.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Lord, Thou Hast Been Our Dwelling-Place

Thomas H. Gill (1819–1906)

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place
In ev’ry generation;
Thy people still have known thy grace,
And blessed thy consolation:
Through ev’ry age thou heard’st our cry
Through ev’ry age we found thee nigh,
Our Strength and our Salvation.

Our cleaving sins we oft have wept,
And oft thy patience proved;
But still thy faith we fast have kept,
Thy Name we still have loved;
And thou hast kept and loved us well,
Hast granted us in thee to dwell,
Unshaken, unremoved.

No, nothing from those arms of love
Shall thine own people sever;
Our Helper never will remove,
Our God will fail us never.
Thy people, Lord, have dwelt in thee,
Our dwelling place thou still wilt be
For ever and for ever.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Response to Criticisms: The Gospel

The American Council of Christian Churches published its whitepaper entitled The Biblical Doctrine of Separation in 2014. This work was motivated by a desire to restate the biblical principles behind ecclesiastical separation in view of a shift that was taking place within fundamentalism. Some younger fundamentalists were abandoning these ideals for involvement in conservative evangelical organizations such as The Gospel Coalition and Together for the Gospel. Others were attempting to keep one foot in both camps. The ACCC rightly perceived a difference between itself and conservative evangelicalism, and it sought to articulate that difference.

This whitepaper is a helpful contribution that wrestles with the question of drawing boundaries in ecclesiastical fellowship and separation. It is not what opponents of fundamentalism might expect. It is not angry, it is not a diatribe, and it does not misrepresent its opponents. I would commend the publication to readers who wish to see an example of historic, mainstream, balanced fundamentalism.

This publication, however, singles me out by name for disagreement, and I believe that I ought to reply for several reasons. First, I don’t think there really is a disagreement, or, if there is, it is much smaller than the authors of the whitepaper appear to believe. Second, the assumption that we disagree is based at least partly on the authors’ misreading of my argument in Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism, and I would like to correct that misreading. Third, whatever disagreement might actually exist can be traced to the ACCC authors’ too-glib usage of one biblical passage, and study of that passage may well eliminate all potential for difference. The heart of the argument in the whitepaper, and the nub of the authors’ supposed disagreement with me, is expressed in the following paragraph:

Some have emphasized the gospel as the touchstone of orthodoxy. One author used this emphasis in a recent defense of fundamentalism, “The thing that is held in common by all Christians—the thing that constitutes the church as one church—is the gospel itself.” None would deny the importance of the gospel to this question [ecclesiastical separation from false teachers], but the gospel is only one-third of the concerns raised by the apostle Paul in Corinth: “For if he that cometh preacheth another Jesus, who we have not preached, or if ye receive another spirit, which ye have not received, or another gospel, which ye have not accepted, ye might well bear with him” (2 Cor. 11:4).

The citation in the middle of this paragraph is footnoted under my name to the volume Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism. I should note that the ACCC erroneously lists me as an editor for that volume. I was merely a contributor, and a kind of outside voice at that. The whitepaper continues,

So where many fundamentalists today are focused on a single category of theology, soteriology, the apostle Paul was focused on at least three: Christology, revelation, and soteriology. Consequently, the gospel-centric approach to ecclesiastical separation is an inadequate summary of the Bible doctrine.

As I say, I wish to respond to these statements. My response will consist of three parts. First, I describe the structure of 2 Corinthians 11:4, upon which the ACCC has based its case. Second, I will address the question of how the purported three issues (another Jesus, another spirit, and another gospel) are related. Third, I will deal with the significance specifically of Paul’s words, “another spirit,” in the structure of 2 Corinthians 11:4. The question on this last point is raised by the author of the whitepaper (the names of the author or authors never appear), who assumes that the mention of “another spirit” was meant to raise the issue of revelation. I want to consider whether that is the most likely assumption.

First, however, an introductory word is in order. Paul’s feelings are closer to the surface in 2 Corinthians than in any of his other writings. Perhaps that is because he was dealing with personal rejection to a greater degree than he encountered elsewhere. Not only was the church at Corinth profoundly carnal (as can be seen in 1 Corinthians), but a cadre of false teachers had come into the church. They were apparently good-looking men, well-schooled, and highly articulate. They presented letters of commendation from important individuals. In attacking Paul, they seem to have derided his personal appearance, his lack of rhetorical polish, his menial employment, his physical disability, and his frequent imprisonments. The danger was that some Corinthians would turn away from the truth because they were turning away from Paul. Consequently, the whole epistle becomes a double exercise for Paul: he wishes to defend the gospel while at the same time defending his own apostleship—all while trying not to appear arrogant or self-important.

One of Paul’s tools in offering this double-defense is a refined sense of irony. Paul comes closer to full-blown sarcasm more frequently in 2 Corinthians than in any of his other writings. He also engages in considerable self-deprecation, especially when defending his apostleship. His approach can be paraphrased as “Only fools talk about themselves, and I’m talking about myself, so I’m acting like a fool, but in my defense, you’re making me do it.” Both the irony and the self-deprecation are punctuated by protestations of Paul’s intense love for the members of the church at Corinth. He makes it clear that his hard words are not meant to be dismissive. Rather, he speaks as he does because he cares about them so deeply.

All of these features of Paul’s argument are on display in the opening verses of 2 Corinthians 11. He asks the readers to bear with him in his foolishness. He expresses his deep concern that they are being led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ. Then in verse 4 he unleashes biting sarcasm: “For if he that cometh preacheth another Jesus, whom we have not preached, or if ye receive another spirit, which ye have not received, or another gospel, which ye have not accepted, ye might well bear with him.” It is to this verse that we shall turn in the next issue of In the Nick of Time.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Psalm 66

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Sing, all ye nations to the Lord,
Sing with a joyful noise;
With melody of sound record
His honors and your joys.

Say to the Pow’r that shakes the sky,
“How terrible art Thou!
Sinners before Thy presence fly,
Or at Thy feet they bow.”

O bless our God, and never cease,
Ye saints, fulfil His praise;
He keeps our life, maintains our peace,
And guides our doubtful ways.

Lord, thou hast prov’d our suff’ring souls
To make our graces shine;
So silver bears the burning coals,
The metal to refine.

Thro’ wat’ry deeps, and fiery ways
We march at Thy command;
Led to possess the promis’d place
By Thine unerring hand.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Response to Criticisms: Preface

Ten years ago I authored a chapter and three responses for the book Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism, edited by Andy Naselli and Collin Hansen. My job was both to help readers understand fundamentalism and to respond to the positions represented by other evangelical authors. My approach overall was to argue that fundamentalism is deeply interested in the unity of the Church, but that the Church’s unity is grounded in the gospel. Wherever the gospel is denied, the unity of the church is fractured: those who deny the gospel must not be reckoned as Christians or as within the Church. In other words, a genuine concern with unity compels the biblically obedient Christian to practice ecclesiastical separation.

I also made the case that ecclesiastical separation must extend further than only those who overtly deny the gospel. According to the apostle John, those who make common cause with gospel deniers incur a share in their evil deeds. That being so, at least some limitation of fellowship is necessary toward gospel believers who extend Christian fellowship to gospel deniers. This is a position that is sometimes called “secondary separation,” and in one of my responses I argued that the willingness to pursue secondary separation is what distinguishes fundamentalism from even the most conservative evangelical alternative.

When I published the chapter and responses I expected criticism, and I fully anticipated that the harshest criticism would come from self-proclaimed fundamentalists. I had two reasons for expecting this response. One is that fundamentalists have been wrangling over the meaning of their position since at least the 1970s. Pejoratives like neo-fundamentalist, pseudo-fundamentalist, and cultural fundamentalist have been hurled back and forth as some who wore the label attempted to deny its rightful use to others. Since I was unavoidably taking a position in this long-standing debate, I could hardly hope to be ignored (and I did not want to be—what author does?).

Second, while fundamentalists have often manifested the virtue of temperance when praising others, they have moderated their objections less frequently. Fortunately, some noteworthy and happy exceptions to this rule do exist. Nevertheless, one of the quickest ways to make a name within some branches of fundamentalism—especially hyper-fundamentalism—is by attacking some evil. Of course, the evil cannot be challenged in the abstract, but requires castigation of the persons who are perceived as advancing it. If an ambitious hyper-fundamentalist cannot find a genuine evil, then an invented evil just might do the trick.

It was well that I had anticipated such complaints, for they were not long in coming. Even before publishing my chapter and responses I had decided to ignore most of them. There is no use in providing a platform for attention seekers and truth twisters, and that is what I anticipated that most of the critics would be. They are like the comment stream on an Internet news story—no good ever comes from reading it, let alone interacting with it.

My determination to ignore the most unreasonable criticisms, however, does not mean that I wanted to ignore all disagreement. I will be the first to acknowledge that my work contains flaws, and I am eager to correct them. The best way of finding out what they are is to converse with those who express reasonable disagreement. That kind of disagreement can come from opponents, but it can also come from friends. Indeed, one of the marks of a true friend is the willingness to confront and disagree.

Unfortunately, the shrillness of the unreasonable disagreement tended to block the possibility of responding to the reasonable ones. As the rhetorical temperature began to rise, I found that my acquaintances imagined some obligation to express themselves as either “pro-Bauder” or “anti-Bauder.” For a while, it seemed as if no middle ground was possible within fundamentalism. Some fundamentalist organizations even began to pass resolutions either for me or against me.

In the midst of the uproar came a sharply critical resolution from the American Council of Christian Churches. That surprised me for three reasons. First, I was and am an individual member of the ACCC. Second, the ACCC is my endorsing agency for military chaplaincy. Third, the executive secretary of the ACCC, Ralph Colas, was a close personal friend.

I called Dr. Colas about the resolution and asked why the ACCC had found it necessary to speak so sharply about me. He told me that the resolution was driven by a few of the younger men while he was away from the meeting. Apparently, they had listened to some of my more extreme critics, then allowed their fears about what I might be saying to override their reading of what I actually did say. I assured Dr. Colas that my commitment to separatism had not changed. Soon, the ACCC retracted that resolution, issuing a revised resolution that expressed concern about certain trends, but without naming me.

Other than a brief clarification I chose not to pursue the episode. As I say, I am a member of the ACCC. I believe what it believes. I value what it does. I have no wish to hurt the organization and every desire to encourage it. The ACCC is certainly not one of those hyper-fundamentalist institutions to which I referred a moment ago.

Ralph Colas was already dying of cancer when that incident took place. After he stepped out of leadership, the ACCC published a “whitepaper” entitled The Bible Doctrine of Separation. Again I found myself singled out for disagreement, though it now took a much more reasonable and even charitable tone. As soon as I saw the “whitepaper,” I knew that I should respond. It advanced several ideas that are worthy of conversation. I hesitated, however, because I still did not wish to be perceived as opposing the ACCC.

About a year ago the ACCC decided to serialize the “whitepaper” on its web site. The organization’s leadership has a perfect right to do that. By and large I believe that the document is a helpful one. Nevertheless, it does involve a few misunderstandings that I believe could be balanced out or even corrected.

Beginning next week, that is my goal. I will be responding to some of the criticisms in The Bible Doctrine of Separation, and I will be engaging some of its principal ideas. From the outset I want it understood that I am not trying to provoke a quarrel, but to clarify some of the issues that the ACCC has seen fit to raise. I continue to hold the ACCC in high regard. I intend to support the organization. After the lapse of nearly a decade, however, I also think a reasonable conversation should be possible. My aim is to conduct such a conversation.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Hosanna, With a Cheerful Sound

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Hosanna, with a cheerful sound,
To God’s upholding hand;
Ten thousand snares attend us round,
And yet secure we stand.

That was a most amazing pow’r
Which raised us with a word,
And every day, and every hour,
We lean upon the Lord.

The evening rests our weary head,
And angels guard the room;
We wake, and we admire the bed,
That was not made our tomb.

The rising morning can’t assure,
That we shall end the day;
For death stands ready at the door
To take our lives away.

Our breath is forfeited by sin
To God’s avenging law;
We own thy grace, immortal King,
In every gasp we draw.

God is our sun, whose daily light,
Our joy and safety brings;
Our feeble flesh lies safe at night
Beneath his shady wings.

Elements in a Philosophy of Ministry: Imitation

A Confession of Faith

One might think that creedalism was a thing of the past, but what’s old is new again. I recently encountered a confession of faith posted as a sign in someone’s lawn. If people take the trouble to post their beliefs on their lawn, then they must think that those beliefs are important—perhaps even fundamental. And indeed, the theses on that sign do represent a new kind of fundamentalism. The sign said:

WE BELIEVE
BLACK LIVES MATTER
NO HUMAN IS ILLEGAL
LOVE IS LOVE
WOMEN’S RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS
SCIENCE IS REAL
WATER IS LIFE
INJUSTICE ANYWHERE IS A THREAT TO JUSTICE EVERYWHERE

Several observations are in order. First, this statement is a creed, a confession of faith. It is not a listing of empirical facts, but an assertion of what “we believe.” Its claims fall squarely within the orbit of prejudice.

Second, the creed offers no reasons for its prejudices. Of course, the function of creeds is to define dogmas, not to defend them. All creeds express opinions that the creeds themselves do not support. For a creed to be taken seriously, however, its adherents must provide supporting arguments and evidence. That task necessarily opens any creed to examination and criticism.

Third, the seven theses of this creed block debate by their blunt and dogmatic assertions. The document reads less like a creed and more like a manifesto. Understood functionally, it does not offer an invitation to examine evidence or to consider arguments, but it issues a call to action. For those who confess this creed, no question or hesitation will be welcomed.

Fourth, at the most facile level, every thesis in the creed is true. “Love is love” is simply tautologous. One can only deny that “women’s rights are human rights” by denying that women are humans. The creed asserts that “science is real,” but who ever claimed that science was imaginary? And what sane person is going to proclaim that “Black lives do not matter?” Every thesis is true—but trivial as stated.

Fifth, and this is where things go all 1984, none of these propositions says what it means. Each provides cover for a different prejudice that is much more controversial and damaging. The pious who confess this creed are attempting to smuggle a sensibility into the public consciousness while sparing themselves the trouble of defending it. Each thesis is a slogan, and the confession as a whole is an attempt to sloganeer a social revolution. This tactic becomes apparent when we examine the theses individually.

Black Lives Matter. Of course they do, and the percentage of murder victims who are Black is truly alarming. For the year 2018, nearly 45 percent of all murder victims in the United States were Black, even though Blacks account for only 13.4 percent of the population. Only about 8 percent of these murders were committed by whites; almost 89 percent were committed by other Blacks. While a few highly publicized police shootings are cause for genuine concern, someone who really believed that Black lives mattered would be devoting most of their attention to finding out why Blacks are killing other Blacks at such an alarming rate. The truth is that something matters more to those people than Black lives.

No Human Is Illegal. I take comfort in knowing that it is never illegal to be human. Wherever people pass laws, however, other people break them. People do illegal things, and it is not wrong to note that what they are doing is illegal. People who break laws by committing murder are illegal murderers. People who break laws by stealing are illegal thieves. People who break laws against selling drugs are illegal drug dealers. People who break laws when they immigrate are illegal immigrants. The real question is whether a nation can rightfully establish lawful procedures for immigration—yet the slogan carefully avoids that question.

Love Is Love. Yes, but is every love equally deserving of respect and celebration? A love for Italian cooking is usually innocuous, but it is hardly on a par with those loves that lead mothers to sacrifice for their children or patriots to die for their countries. To say that love is love is not to establish that all loves are equal or even respectable. Might some loves be despicable, such as when love of money turns into grasping greed, or sexual desire is perverted into pedophilia? This slogan really wishes us to deny that some loves are also perversions—but they are.

Women’s Rights Are Human Rights. True enough—but the question is, which rights are those? The expression “women’s rights” has become code for “the right to abort an unborn baby.” To defend abortion-on-demand as anybody’s right is simply to beg the question of whether such a right exists. For those who believe it does not, the attempt to smuggle abortion into this slogan is both absurd and obnoxious.

Science Is Real. Of course science is real, but what constitutes a science? Here is a hint: not every organized body of affirmations is science. The sciences employ a particular method: the observation and quantification of empirical phenomena, leading to the formulation of predictive hypotheses, the verification of which is subject to repeatable experimentation. Remarkably, current speculations about global warming and climate change do not fit that definition, but assertions about the humanity of unborn babies do.

Water Is Life. This is a metaphor: strictly speaking, water is water and life is life. Nevertheless, water is certainly necessary to life, which is what the slogan means. The smuggled message is that human access to potable water is being threatened. Perhaps that is true in places like the Sahara, the Gobi, and the Kalahari. Elsewhere, not so much. In fact, Western nations have made incredible progress over the past fifty years in cleaning up their water supplies. This slogan cannot be used ethically to imply that more Western governmental intrusion and regulation are necessary.

Injustice Anywhere Is a Threat to Justice Everywhere. The word threat is overly strong. If a petty thief in Delhi is permitted to escape, the rate of looting in Minneapolis is not likely to spike. Well, alright, it is likely to spike, but it would have done that anyway, whatever happens to the petty thief. The point is that there are greater and lesser injustices (as we try to teach our toddlers). Furthermore, some injustices cannot be corrected without perpetrating greater injustices. The real threat to justice everywhere is a niggling determination to pursue an unrealistic vision of justice in an imperfect world at any cost.

Humans cannot live without faith. The dogmas of this confession represent a new, secular, and in some circles, fundamentalist orthodoxy. Nevertheless, this new orthodoxy is grounded in a false vision, and when false visions are enforced by the coercive power of the state, they invariably become tyrannical. My response to this creed is, I believe what you say, but what you say is trivial. What you mean by what you say is not trivial, but it is false and profoundly dangerous.

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This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.


 


Psalm 54

Henry Francis Lyte (1793–1847)

Save me by Thy glorious name;
Lord, that name is love,
Help from Thee I humbly claim,
Send it from above;
Hear, oh hear my suppliant voice!
Hear, and bid my heart rejoice.

Foes to Christ and every good
Fiercely throng on me;
Soon my soul must be subdued,
Without aid from Thee:
But with Thee to make me strong,
Lord, they shall not triumph long.

Lo, He comes, He takes my part,
All my struggles cease.
Rise in praise, my grateful heart,
Bless the Prince of Peace;
God Himself has set me free,
God my worship ever be!