Theology Central

[This essay was originally published on February 26, 2016.]

Time is limited. Earthly life ends with a period or even an exclamation point, not with an ellipsis. We are granted threescore and ten years, or, if strong enough, fourscore. Anything beyond that is an excess of superabundance.

Eighty years. That number lends each person 29,200 days. If a day were a dollar, we would not even start with enough money to buy a house—only perhaps a middle-class car. It is not a lot of money, and 29,200 days is not a lot of time.

We spend about a quarter of that time just growing up. Twenty years goes into getting ready for the next sixty. If we intend to spend our lives in one of the skilled professions, our preparation might take as much as another decade—and, of course, some measure of decay and inability may beset our later years. At best, our useful contribution will span only six decades.

Of that sixty years, we will typically spend about twenty sleeping. Some of us require a bit more rest, and a few can get by on less. But we are now down to only 14,600 days during which we can make a difference.

The business of earning a living will consume a good bit of that time. Few of us can provide for ourselves in fewer than eight hours per day and five days per week. Many will find themselves spending ten or more hours per day on six days of the week. Granted, most people retire at around sixty-five, and most people get a couple of weeks off for vacation. Even so, we shall typically spend a minimum of around 2,083 days pursuing the means of life. That leaves us with about 12,517 days.

How much of that time do we spend driving back and forth to work? Eating our meals or caring for personal hygiene? Shopping for groceries? Doing home repair? Filing our taxes? Visiting the doctor or dentist? Renewing our car registration and driver’s license? Few of us could cram these and similar activities into less than two hours every day—and there goes another five years, or 1,826 days. Only 10,691 days are left.

So we have been loaned just over ten thousand days that we may choose to use as we wish. On the scale of human history, this is a very generous number—most people at most times in most places have enjoyed nothing like it. Ten thousand golden days that we can consider leisure. We may spend these days on amusement, recreation, entertainment, avocation, service, or study. If we are Christians, however, we shall also wish to spend significant amounts of this time in devotion.

(Someone may ask, What about family time? The short answer is that family time is not typically a use of time on its own. What we call “family time” does not consist in families just sitting around and looking at each other. It is time spent together in some way, doing something. Family time will almost always be classified under one of the foregoing categories.)

How much time does devotion require? The answer to that question depends on how devoted we wish to become. Mere Sunday morning churchgoing will consume no more than 260 days—less than one percent of our lives. Those who take church membership seriously, however, and who actually participate in the life of Christ’s body, will discover that their corporate worship, fellowship, and instruction fills something like triple that amount, and perhaps much more.

Furthermore, the life of devotion is not lived only through corporate meetings and activities. Just as important is each individual’s direct communion with God. This communion involves a number of exercises. One is the reading of Scripture, not simply for doctrinal study but to meet God and to hear His voice. Another is personal adoration of the Triune God. Still another brings us into periodic self-examination: methodical inspection of our lives for the presence of unconfronted sins, resulting in their confession before God. Petition, supplication, and intercession are important aspects of personal communion with God. So is meditation, the pondering of spiritual truth to consider its importance and implications. Many have found delight in the simple exposure of the soul to God, not so much to verbalize to Him as simply to enjoy Him.

What time do these activities take? For someone who truly delights in God, they can easily consume every moment of leisure. In fact, they tend to spill out of leisure and to form a halo around all other activities of life—which may be what Paul is talking about when he says to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17). Those who truly devote themselves to God may find that all of life becomes prayer because it is lived in His presence and for His glory.

For such persons, odd moments become holy times. A walk under the open sky becomes a service of meditation and adoration. A wakeful night is transformed into a liturgy of praise and petition. For these people, the question is not “How much time must I take,” but “How much time can I find?”

The importance of devotion does not diminish the value of other uses of time. Our vocation includes prayer, but prayer is not our entire vocation. The life lived before God still has occasion for the right kinds of recreation, study, conversation, entertainment, and service. But a life lived without devotion is not yet a Christian life. Indeed, compared to what it could be, it is hardly a life at all.

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.

Sinner, O Why So Thoughtless Grown?

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Sinner, O why so thoughtless grown?
Why in such dreadful haste to die;
Daring to leap to worlds unknown,
Heedless against thy God to fly?

Will ye frustrate eternal grace,
Urged on by sin’s fantastic dreams,
Madly attempt the infernal gate,
And force thy passage to the flames?

Stay, sinner, on the gospel plains,
Behold the God of love unfold
The mystery of his dying pains,
For ever telling, yet untold.

Gordon Henry Lovik made the transition from this world to the glory of heaven early on the morning of November 19, 2021. He was well prepared for the change of address!

I do not remember my initial meeting with Gordon Lovik, but could never forget him. He is one of a small group of men who made a significant impact on my life in the most formative years. His influence in my life began in earnest when I matriculated to Central Baptist Theological Seminary of Minneapolis in January, 1966. He was thirty years old, had earned three Masters degrees following graduation from Bob Jones University, and was a friend to all whom he met. He may have been called “Dr. Lovik” in the classroom, but everywhere else he was “Gordy.”

I knew Gordon Lovik first as a professor in the seminary classroom. His primary field was New Testament studies with a specialty in teaching koine Greek, the language of the New Testament. Richard V. Clearwaters, the founder of Central Seminary, claimed on more than one occasion that Gordy “could teach Greek to a fence post!” He also taught biblical Hebrew when the Old Testament professor, Warren Vanhetloo, was on sabbatical. In addition, I enrolled in his course in New Testament History and a variety of New Testament book studies. Each of those courses honed my skills or deepened my understanding of God’s Word invaluably.

As time passed, Gordy became my mentor. Watching him teach provided an education in pedagogy. When I began to teach courses on the seminary level he provided helpful coaching. We spent many hours in discussion of biblical linguistics, theology, praxis, and ministry, often while eating sack lunches on “Seminary Row” where the professors’ offices were located. I had become his colleague. He treated me as an equal in spite of my relative youth. Along that path, we became friends. That friendship never died though we were separated by many miles when he joined the faculty of Calvary Baptist Seminary in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, in 1976. I made numerous trips to Lansdale in the later 1970s and early 1980s for a variety of ministry-oriented purposes. Gordy and I had an instant connection whenever we reunited. It was as though the previous conversation had not been interrupted though our reunions were separated by months or even years.

Gordy was athletic—and an avid golfer. He and Warren Vanhetloo initiated me to the game. Gordy could drive a ball off the tee farther than I ever hoped to do. He was patient with this duffer, providing helpful advice when asked. We played courses around the Twin Cities metro area in the summer months, sometimes sneaking in a second round when time permitted. A fond memory is of playing a course in New Prague, MN, late in the season as the wind drove snow flakes horizontally and made finding a ball challenging! The club handle truly stings one’s hands when hitting a ball in those temperatures. Gordy had a smile on his face when we finished.

Gordon Lovik loved his wife and children deeply. He was genuinely concerned for the marriages and families of the seminary students and all believers in his sphere of influence. He often addressed biblical and practical matters relating to family relationships in chapel messages, classroom discussions, and private conversation. Gordy loved God’s Word—and he loved teaching it. Students enjoyed sitting under his teaching and benefited from it immensely. While the Holy Spirit did not lead him into pastoral ministry, Gordy had a pastor’s heart. That affective quality crossed the pulpit into the hearts of listeners whenever he preached in a church service or chapel service. He genuinely cared about people. Above all, Gordy loved God and honored Him with his life.

Dr. Charles McLain enjoyed a similar relationship with Gordon Lovik, beginning a few years later than mine. He served as a local church pastor for several years after completing his studies at Central Seminary, following which he joined the faculty of Calvary Baptist Seminary. After hearing of Gordy’s death, Dr. McLain wrote,

I remember those first months after accepting the invitation to join the faculty at Calvary —it was like living in a fog of unbelief and total inadequacy that I would even be considered to be on the same faculty as Dr. Lovik and Dr. Vanhetloo! The step from student to co-worker just had to be something that I was dreaming and not actual reality!

Gordy’s [and Van’s] instruction and helping hand did not stop with the seminary student, but extended to the green faculty member who was following a new, uncertain path of ministry. Gordy helped guide me those first few years while I was getting my feet established on the path of professorship. His constant availability, guiding hand, his encouragement, his example will never be forgotten.

Perhaps my clearest memories are from sitting in Gordy’s office during my Ph.D. studies. He provided a dose of ‘biblical reality’ as I was inundated with modern, academic philosophies and methodologies…a lifeguard in the turbulence of my academic studies and a guiding hand through my thesis process. Along with that are memories when I couldn’t sit down and talk with my own father due to miles between or his Alzheimer’s, I would sit down and talk with Gordy.

I shall forever count Dr. Lovik, along with Dr. Vanhetloo, as valued mentors for the ministry that God led me into—my teaching ministry would have been less without them. I shall forever count Gordy as a dear friend—he saw me and treated me as an individual and not as another student or another question to answer. He was personable, genuine, helpful, and is missed. His door was always open. His advice was always true to God’s Word. His example was always worth following. His friendship was true.

I spoke with Gordy by phone in October. Quite a bit of time had passed since we visited previously. I believe both of us relished the opportunity. Though age and injury had slowed him down physically, it had not dampened his ardor for the Lord or for ministry. He made a practice of looking heavenward throughout his life. I am certain that it was an easy transition for him on November 19.

This essay is by Don Odens, Adjunct Professor of Practical 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.

Thou Hidden Source of Calm Repose

Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

Thou hidden source of calm repose,
Thou all-sufficient love divine,
My help and refuge from my foes,
Secure I am, if thou art mine:
And lo! from sin, and grief, and shame
I hide me, Jesus, in thy Name.

Thy mighty Name salvation is,
And keeps my happy soul above;
Comfort it brings, and pow’r, and peace,
And joy, and everlasting love:
To me, with thy dear Name are giv’n
Pardon, and holiness, and heav’n.

Jesus, my all in all thou art;
My rest in toil, my ease in pain,
The medicine of my broken heart,
In war my peace, in loss my gain,
My smile beneath the tyrant’s frown,
In shame my glory and my crown:

In want my plentiful supply,
In weakness my almighty pow’r,
In bonds my perfect liberty,
My light in Satan’s darkest hour,
My help and stay whene’er I call,
My life in death, my heav’n, my all.

On October 23, 2021, I was privileged to attend the funerals of two people I greatly respected, Laurie Westerling and George Cable. Both were native Minnesotans. Both lived a long time—Laurie was 80 and George 92. Both were saved during their teens.  Both were married to their spouses for a long time—Laurie to Dick for 58 years and George to Romelle for 69 years. Both had two children. Both were friends of Central Seminary. Both died from complications due to Covid. And both were faithful servants of God who persevered in the faith right to the end of their earthly lives.

Psalm 116:15 reminds us that the death of the Lord’s saints is precious in His sight. Based on my personal observations as well as the corporate testimony of others who knew them, I am quite sure they heard “Well done, good and faithful servant” as they departed this life and entered the next. And though we are saddened by the loss of these dear saints, we are comforted by knowing that both are currently enjoying abundant joy in the presence of the Savior they adored (2 Cor 5:8). 

In God’s wise providence Laurie spent her life as a stay-at-home wife and mother; George spent his life as a pastor and church planter. And by God’s grace both fulfilled their vocations as trustworthy stewards of the gifts and calling God gave them. So what did faithfulness to their gifts and calling look like? Please allow me to give my observations of these two lives lived well for the glory of God.

I first got to know Laurie 37 years ago when she hosted my girlfriend Elaine (who is now my wife) and I after a double date with Laurie’s daughter Nancy and her boyfriend to a wonderful meal at her home (the enchiladas were fantastic!). Nancy and Elaine had already been friends since high school; they were in each other’s weddings; and their friendship continues to this day. I have also experienced Laurie’s kind service through her interaction with Central Seminary. Laurie lived only a few blocks from the seminary and she frequently volunteered her time on our campus, helping with direct mailings (as recently as two weeks before she died) and seminary events such as the annual golf tournament (as recently as two months before she died). After Dick passed away in 2018, she generously donated thousands of his stamps (Dick was an avid philatelist) to the seminary.

From these two vantage points—the husband of her daughter’s friend and the dean of the seminary where she volunteered—I observed what a faithful servant does. In Laurie’s life I saw Proverbs 31:10–31; 1 Tim 5:9–10; and Titus 2:3–5 displayed in living color. I know that Dick trusted her entirely as she did “him good, and not harm, all the days of her life” (Prov 31:11). She served her daughters well as they both testified at the funeral (Prov 31:21, 28). She “looked well to the ways of her household,” and certainly taught her daughters to do the same (Prov 31:27; Titus 2:5). She ministered in her local church in many ministries including choir and women’s Bible study groups (she once invited me to join her group to talk about missions’ trips in which I had participated). She also served several years as a discussion leader for Bible Study Fellowship. If Fourth Baptist Church had had a roll for widows over 60 (like that of the Ephesian church where Timothy ministered – 1 Timothy 5:9–10), Laurie would have met the qualifications with ease: 1) faithful to her husband; 2) had a reputation for good works; 3) brought up her daughters; 4) showed hospitality; 5) cared for the afflicted; and 6) devoted herself to every good work. I thank the Lord for granting me the opportunity to observe His work of grace in the life of a faithful wife, mother, friend, and church member like Laurie Westerling.

I first met George Cable in the summer of 1983 at Camp Chetek where George was the Bible teacher for the week of family camp, teaching on “The Challenge of Christian Maturity.” I had just finished my freshman year of college and was dating a girl from his church (whom I would later marry). Even at the young age of 19, I was enthralled by George’s clear and biblical teaching.

Two years later I joined Chisago Lakes Baptist Church, a congregation George shepherded for 21 years. The next summer George provided pre-marital counseling for Elaine and me, and he officiated at our wedding. I also served as his Assistant Pastor for 5 years after my graduation from seminary. Spending 21 years at one church is certainly a sign of faithfulness in pastoral ministry (1 Cor 4:2), but this was only one-third of the years he served as a pastor! Prior to his time at Chisago Lakes, George served as a pastor and church-planter in 14 different Wisconsin churches over a period of 25 years (1951–1976). And even after stepping down from the pastorate at Chisago because he needed heart surgery at age 68, he could not tolerate the notion of retirement. So he served for another 13 years as pastor of Sunrise Bible Church, situated in a village near North Branch, MN. You can do the math: he served in pastoral ministry for over 59 years!       

George was loved and appreciated for his straightforward expositional preaching. During his Minnesota years he was a regular speaker at Central chapel, even bringing the commencement address in 2011. I always enjoyed discussing George’s sermons with other hearers, and, after learning of their appreciation for the encouraging and challenging words they had just received, I would (knowingly) remark, “Not bad for someone who never went to seminary, huh?” The dumfounded looks on their faces were telling. Indeed, George Cable had only attended Bible college (Northwestern College in Minneapolis and his diploma was signed by then-president Billy Graham). But he made the most of his education, and he was one of those rare, self-taught individuals who learned how to preach, plant churches, and feed spiritual truth to people seemingly on his own. To be sure, he had mentors and friends from whom he sought counsel, and with their help and God’s blessing George excelled and thrived in the noble vocation of pastor-teacher.

Time would fail me to tell of George’s love and care for his wife, Romelle, and his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Furthermore, he modeled well the qualifications of an elder as described in 1 Tim 3:2–7 and Titus 1:6–9; no one could serve as many churches for as many years as George did without these qualities woven into the fabric of his life. Finally, George knew how to have fun, whether fishing, watching baseball, or serving the Republican party of MN (though politics were certainly more than “fun” for him).

What an honor to have known and observed the lives of Laurie Westerling and George Cable. I praise the Lord who gave them eternal life and who enabled their faithfulness to Him.

This essay is by Jon Pratt, Vice President of Academics and Professor of New 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.

Epitaph on Mrs. M. Higgins, of Weston

William Cowper (1731–1800)

Laurels may flourish round the conqueror’s tomb,
But happiest they who win the world to come:
Believers have a silent field to fight,
And their exploits are veiled from human sight.
They in some nook, where little known they dwell,
Kneel, pray in faith, and rout the hosts of hell;
Eternal triumphs crown their toils divine,
And all those triumphs, Mary, now are thine.

Nearly ten years ago I determined that I had to get into better physical condition. My approach involved two strategies. First, I made some significant and long-term changes in my eating habits. Second, I knew that I needed an exponential increase in exercise.

My puzzle was what to do for exercise. I started out just walking a mile. This quickly increased to two, and then to three. Eventually I settled into a routine of walking about five miles per day.

The next summer, my wife bought me a bicycle for my birthday. Call it a codger-cycle: it was low, heavy, and sported clunky tires. After a few short excursions I began riding about ten miles a day, pedaling as many as twenty some days. Then I parked the codger-cycle in favor of an old Schwinn World Sport and an older Schwinn Collegiate. These were classic road bikes, and for a few summers I really enjoyed cycling. Then a couple of crashes—one of them pretty bad—took some of the luster off that sport.

Presently, my summer routine is to walk five miles or ride ten miles at least five days every week. I almost always get six days, and most weeks I even find time to do seven. I’ll alternate between cycling and walking, though as the years have passed I’ve done more walking and less cycling. Of course, in the winter I don’t ride at all.

For a while I tried Alpine walking, which mimics cross-country skiing. Alpine walking is done with sticks that are about the length of ski poles, and my Romanian colleagues gave me a set of these several years ago. I enjoy this Volkssport but find it hazardous in the winter. I’ve never been able to get the sticks to grip well on Minnesota ice, which we have aplenty. Occasionally I walk with a standard stick or staff, especially in the winter. Usually, however, I just walk. People now come up to me in stores and other places just to comment that they’ve seen me walking in their neighborhoods.

This was a good habit to be in when COVID brought the shutdown to Minnesota. I never felt trapped or confined, since I had the freedom to be out on the streets and trails nearly every day. For a few months I could go out and walk early on Sunday mornings, then come back home to watch the services of Fourth Baptist Church on the computer.

I’ve found that an extended walk can provide a good opportunity to think through problems. It is also a great chance to listen to audiobooks or podcasts. Incidentally, Librivox has hundreds or thousands of free recorded books, including volumes in theology, philosophy, history, and literature. I would never substitute an audiobook for technical reading, but for me it’s a good way to plough through reading that has to be done for survey work. I listen to most audiobooks at double speed, which allows me to cover a book every week or so. That’s how I got through Albert Schweitzer’s The Quest of the Historical Jesus, Augustine’s The City of God, Friedrich Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy, and Herman Hesse’s Siddartha. I’m listening to Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae a volume at a time.

Last year I started getting invitations to run in the Air Force Marathon. I’ve never been a runner, so I just ignored those invitations. Then the marathon was cancelled because of COVID, and the Air Force switched to a virtual marathon. Their advertising said that athletes could sign up for 5K, 10K, a half marathon, or a full marathon. They could complete the distance in their own neighborhoods and upload a screen shot of their tracking software to certify their times (I use Strava). Best of all, athletes didn’t have to run. They could walk, cycle, or crawl to complete their distances.

I signed up for the 10K. The event required athletes to complete their distance during September of 2020, which I did easily. For my registration fee I received a race bib, a certificate of completion, a full color patch, a tee shirt, and a finisher’s medal. The 10K distance is only 6.2 miles, and I was walking that far on some days anyway. To my surprise I really enjoyed being part of a community that was completing the event. And yes, I liked getting the swag.

Evidently the event was a success for the Air Force, too. They announced a series of six “History and Heritage” races, 10K each, to be held every other month during 2021. They were all virtual, and they all had the same stipulation: finish your distance running, walking, cycling or whatever. I’m sure they’d let you do it in a canoe. Over the year I signed up for all six races. Each came with the bib, the finisher’s certificate, a patch, and a 3.5 inch medal devoted to some historic aircraft to which the race was dedicated. Alas, there were no T-shirts for these races.

This September the Air Force Marathon was held as an in-person event, but the organizers also kept the virtual event. This time I wanted to try for a bit more distance, so I signed up for the half marathon. Again the enjoyment of the exercise was matched by the enjoyment of being part of a community and the enjoyment of receiving the goodies after the race.

Through the year I had also participated in several other 10K virtual events. These were all smaller and had less sense of community than the Air Force Marathon, but they were also less expensive. I enjoyed them all and have amassed a bit of a collection of race bibs, certificates, and medals.

The crème de la crème came when the Boston Athletic Association decided to hold the Boston Marathon as a virtual event as well as an in-person event this year. I’d never even be able to qualify to get into the Boston Marathon, so this was just too good a chance to pass up. While 5K, 10K, and half marathon options were available, I signed up for the full 26 miles. It took a day, but it was worth it. The BAA produced its own app for the Marathon, so my route and speed was recorded automatically. The app came with audio—it was hilarious to hear a crowd cheering for me as I approached the finish line. The marathon community was well organized and quite communicative. I don’t know whether the BAA will do a virtual marathon ever again, but I’m glad they did this year, and I’m glad I participated.

I would walk or cycle for the exercise anyway. Being able to participate in these virtual events, however, makes the process far more interesting. Every walk is a training session. I’ll never win anything but I’ve learned one thing: even if you can’t have a great finish time, you can still reach the finish line.

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.

Keep Us, Lord, O Keep Us Ever

Thomas Kelly (1769–1855)

Keep us, Lord, O keep us ever!
Vain our hope, if left by thee;
we are thine, O leave us never,
till thy face in heav’n we see,
there to praise thee
through a bright eternity!

All our strength at once would fail us,
if deserted, Lord, by thee;
nothing then could aught avail us,
certain our defeat would be;
those who hate us
thenceforth their desire would see.

But we look to thee as able
grace to give in time of need;
heav’n, we know, is not more stable
than the promise which we plead;
’tis thy promise
gives thy people hope indeed.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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."