Editors' Note: Weekly communion may be standard in Anglican churches, but it's become a badge of honor in a growing number of Presbyterian and Baptist churches. Is this a good trend, and should other churches celebrate the Lord's Supper every time they meet on Sunday? We solicited three perspectives to help you make up your mind. See also:

• Ray Van Neste: Three Arguments for Weekly Communion
• Eric Bancroft: We Celebrate the Lord's Supper Frequently But Not Weekly

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This essay maintains that none of the approaches to the question of frequency of communion (daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, or annually) are self-evidently the "right" one, given the fact that the New Testament does not directly address the frequency question. Dogmatism on the subject cannot, therefore, be warranted.

We cannot make direct appeal to the three Gospels, which record Jesus' institution of this meal, for the Synoptics record no statement of Jesus bearing on the frequency question.

One might infer that the connection of this meal with the annual Passover, observed by Jesus with his disciples, implies that we should maintain an annual equivalent to that Passover. Is such an idea hinted at in 1 Corinthians 5:7? Not likely. Again, there is Paul's own seeming elaboration of Jesus' words given at 1 Corinthians 11:25-26: "Whenever you drink it." But what frequency is that?

There is a third Scripture: Acts 20:7, which some claim records the Lord's Supper as a weekly observance. It does say, "we came together to break bread." Is not Acts 20:7 therefore a support for weekly communion? This will depend on the meaning of "break bread," an idiom used more than 20 times in the NT (most notably in Acts 2:42 and 46). About this idiom, there are two concerns.

First, in the vast majority of its NT occurrences, the idiom refers to the sharing of food. It is used in describing Jesus' miraculous feeding of the multitudes in Matthew 14:19. We see it in the account of Paul, eating with fellow survivors after shipwreck in Acts 27:35-36. In Acts 20, it appears twice: in verses 7 and 11. There is no compelling reason for concluding that "breaking of bread" means more than shared food in this episode. After all, a visit from the notable apostle Paul certainly provided an occasion for a shared meal. John Calvin, acknowledging this established meaning of "breaking of bread," tried hard to sidestep that meaning here. After all, a congregation large enough to require "many lamps" (v. 8) and to require a listener to perch on a window ledge (v. 9) was too large to feed at church. Well, perhaps! There is no compelling reason to understand the Acts 2:42 and 46 references to the "breaking of bread" any differently. Especially verse 46 describes rounds of shared meals enjoyed house by house.

Second, we ought to ask more questions about the adequacy of the idiom "breaking of bread" for a ceremony consisting of two elements. In 1 Corinthians 10:16 Paul is discussing the meaning of the broken bread and the cup of thanksgiving. Each represents a "fellowship" or "communion" with Christ (perhaps the "fellowship" referred to in Acts 2:42?). Why should the holy meal---instituted by Christ with bread and wine---be adequately referred to solely as "broken bread"? For example, in Acts 10:41, Peter speaks explicitly of being among those who "ate and drank with Jesus" after Easter.

In sum, Acts 20:7 provides no adequate basis for claims about weekly observance. It may not refer at all to the Holy Meal. In any case, it is a piece of narrative about a single place and single occasion.

Arguments from History

"But wait," some will say, "we have second-century witnesses reporting weekly communion meals." This is true and yet not conclusive. The Didache and Justin Martyr's First Apology indicate that weekly administration of the Lord's Supper existed. But it is unwise to extrapolate from records of isolated places towards some supposed universal practice.

Are we content to rest in the statements of the NT? Thoughtful Protestants do not employ Patristic writings to establish matters about which the Scriptures themselves are reticent.

"Ah, but Calvin favored weekly communion!" This appeal is made by a growing number who like to cite Calvin's opinions as decisive. By 1559, Calvin favored "at least weekly" communion (his views had fluctuated somewhat earlier). He believed that this was an early church practice; yet his preference never prevailed in Geneva. But the vital questions for us are, "What scriptural basis did Calvin provide for his preferred view?" In the Institutes: Acts 2:42; in the Acts commentary: Acts 20:7. "Did Calvin's contemporary co-Reformers agree with him?" Not especially. "Do the common doctrinal confessions of the Reformation era endorse Calvin's view?" In a word, "no."

Doctrinal and Pastoral Questions

Two basic concerns remain. First, what is the proper relationship between the preaching of the Word and the ceremonies Jesus instituted? Historically, Protestants have judged the proclamation of the Word to be absolutely essential to salvation, and the administration of the two ceremonies to be only relatively essential. We make the distinction not to disparage these ceremonies, but in light of such Scriptures as Luke 23:43 and 1 Corinthians 1:17. The Word of the gospel can stand alone; the ceremonies cannot because they "lean on" the Word and derive their meaning from it. Frequent communion is not, therefore, essential, even if we consider this desirable.

Second, Christians today increasingly compress the Lord's Day into one hour. It was not so, formerly, when there were two gatherings: one chiefly focused on believers and another more focused on the not-yet believing. This state of affairs is now almost gone. Increasingly our single services are all-purpose. Calls for more frequent communion must thus balance distinct concerns:

1. Does the Word remain central in our services, addressing both believers and unbelievers?
2. Are the ceremonies that "lean on" the Word offered with suitable frequency?

An insistence on weekly communion both goes beyond the NT evidence and compels congregations---with multiple bona fide priorities---to attempt too much in that always more compressed hour of the Lord's Day.

In sum, we honor the command of Jesus to remember him with bread and wine by a periodic observance tailored to local church realities.

For Further Reading

C. K. Barrett, Church, Ministry, and Sacraments in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985), chap. 3.

John Calvin,Institutes of the Christian Religion. 1559 ed. (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), IV. xvii. 43-44.

Arthur C. Cochrane, ed., Reformed Confessions of the Sixteenth Century (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1966, reprinted 2003).

Didache Sections 9, 10, 14.

I. Howard Marshall, Last Supper and Lord's Supper (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981), 155.

Justin Martyr, First Apology, chaps. xvi, xvii.

Tom Schreiner and Matthew R. Crawford, eds., The Lord's Supper (Nashville: B&H, 2010).

Editors' Note: Weekly communion may be standard in Anglican churches, but it's become a badge of honor in a growing number of Presbyterian and Baptist churches. Is this a good trend, and should other churches celebrate the Lord's Supper every time they meet on Sunday? We solicited three perspectives to help you make up your mind.

• Kenneth J. Stewart: The Frequency of Communion Calmly Considered
• Eric Bancroft: We Celebrate the Lord's Supper Frequently But Not Weekly

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I am an avid proponent of weekly communion for our churches. This practice is not directly commanded in Scripture, so I am not accusing others of sin. The issue is the pursuit of "best practice," what best fits the patterns found in Scripture and makes best use of the resources God has given us.

First, then, I think there is strong evidence of a pattern of weekly observance in the New Testament. Already in Acts 2:42, we see communion listed as a central piece of Christian worship. The four activities listed here are not four separate things but the four elements that characterized a Christian gathering. One of the key things the early church "devoted" itself to was the "breaking of bread," i.e. the Lord's Supper. The wording suggests that each of these activities occurred when they gathered.

Perhaps the most striking reference to the frequency of the Lord's Supper occurs in Acts 20:7: "On the first day of the week, when we were gathered together to break bread, Paul talked with them, intending to depart on the next day, and he prolonged his speech until midnight."

Paul, on his way to Jerusalem has stopped at Troas. Here "on the first day of the week" he meets with the local church, and Luke directly states that the purpose of their gathering was "to break bread," i.e. to celebrate the Lord's Supper. This passage need not mean the Lord's Supper was the only purpose of their gathering, but it certainly is one prominent purpose and the one emphasized here. The centrality of communion to the weekly gathering is stated casually without explanation or defense, suggesting this practice was common among those Luke expected to read his account. These early Christians met weekly to celebrate the Lord's Supper.

Of course the longest discussion of the practice of the Lord's Supper is in 1 Corinthians. Many issues can be raised here, but the fact that abuse of the Lord's Supper was such a problem in Corinth strongly suggests the Supper was held frequently. Could it have been such a problem if it only occurred quarterly? Is this the sense that arises from the passage? Notice the wording of 1 Corinthians 11:20: "When you come together, it is not the Lord's Supper that you eat." It is widely agreed that the terminology "come together" here is used as a technical term for gathering as the church. This wording suggests that when they gathered they ate a meal which they intended to be the Lord's Supper.[1] Though they are abusing the Supper, their practice (which is not considered odd by Paul) is to celebrate each time they gather. Even the wording in 1 Corinthians 11:25, "As often as you drink," which is often used to suggest frequency is unimportant, in context actually suggests frequent celebration of the Lord's Supper. Commenting on this verse, Gordon Fee notes, "This addition in particular implies a frequently repeated action, suggesting that from the beginning the Last Supper was for Christians not an annual Christian Passover, but a regularly repeated meal in 'honor of the Lord,' hence the Lord's Supper."[2]

Centerpiece of Worship

Second, in practical terms, in our man-centered age where so many services are shamefully devoid of any meaningful reference to the cross, could we not benefit from a move to a regular use of the Christ-ordained means for reminding us of the cross? If we want to be gospel-centered why not make the Christ-ordained portrayal of the gospel a centerpiece in our weekly worship? In an increasingly "visual" age might we not benefit from regular use of the visible, tangible portrayal given to us by Christ? In a day seemingly interested merely in Our Best Life Now, do we not regularly need the Christ-ordained means of reminding us of the Lord's return and the wedding feast of the Lamb? Might not the Bride be more pure if regularly reminded of the coming wedding? In the end, the issue, to me, is not whether or not we have to celebrate communion weekly but that we have the privilege to do so.

Questions will quickly arise on how to do this. Some doubt that this can be done well. Many Baptist churches in Scotland do this, and the practice flourishes. Also, my church has practiced weekly communion for about eight years, and members consistently testify that their appreciation of communion has only increased. We are often told by people who move away that they particularly miss weekly communion.

A typical argument against this idea is, "If we do this so often it will become less meaningful." At first this has the appearance of wisdom; but with just a little pondering the illusion fades. Do we apply this reasoning to other means of grace? Are we worried about praying too frequently? Reading the Bible too much? Shall we be safe and make biblical preaching less frequent? These practices become rote not because of frequency but because of lazy minds and hearts and the lack of robust biblical proclamation alongside the ordinance.

Some also say we can better appreciate communion when we set aside only certain Sundays for it and on those days focus directly on communion. However, we do not need more elaborate observance or contrived production, but regular observance of this simple rite tied into the regular preaching of the Word. We do not need to "build it up" with any extras. We need to preach the gospel and then display and participate in the gospel in communion.

Last, communion at the close of each service has a way of tying the service to the gospel. Too easily a well-intended sermon can end up preaching only the commands of Scripture, failing to undergird the people with the hope of gospel provision and power. The Table anchoring the conclusion of the service has a way of shaping all that comes before it, focusing on the cross of Christ and his return as our hope and joy. Unbelievers are also confronted visibly with the gospel as they see the work of Christ portrayed before them and yet are reminded that these benefits are only available to those who believe.

With these benefits, why not celebrate communion weekly?

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Note: A fuller version of my argument in the broader context of the practice of communion can be found in The Lord's Supper: Remembering and Proclaiming Christ Until He Comes (B&H, 2011), ed. Thomas Schreiner and Matthew Crawford.

[1] So also Howard Marshall, "The Biblical Basis of Communion," Interchange 40:54, "it would seem that when the members assembled 'as a church' it was specifically to eat the Lord's Supper."

[2] Fee, 1 Corinthians, 555.

Editors' Note: Weekly communion may be standard in Anglican churches, but it's become a badge of honor in a growing number of Presbyterian and Baptist churches. Is this a good trend, and should other churches celebrate the Lord's Supper every time they meet on Sunday? We solicited three perspectives to help you make up your mind. See also:

• Ray Van Neste: Three Arguments for Weekly Communion
• Kenneth J. Stewart: The Frequency of Communion Calmly Considered

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Living in a land of drive-thru cappuccinos and customizable DVR TVs, Christians have often been tempted to engage with the church in a similar fashion---quickly, easily, and preferentially. The Lord's Supper provides us with such an example. Mistakenly seen by many as a traditional accent to an already packed worship service, this time of communion has easily slipped into becoming something other than what Christ originally intended for it.

The Lord's Supper was instituted by the head of the church---Jesus Christ. Taking the history and imagery already understood by the account of the Exodus and God's salvation of his people, Jesus shifted Christians' attention from a blood soaked mantle to a blood soaked cross and the salvation found in him alone. He ordained that this practice should continue in the church until he returns again.

Unfortunately, the history of the church shows such observance of the Lord's Supper became only an annual observation, if not even less frequently. As the Reformation returned the Word of God to its authority, the Reformers also returned to regular times of observing the Lord's Supper. But then they needed to determine just how often was often. Today such discussion continues. Some contend for weekly. Others contend for every time the church gathers, meaning several times throughout the week in some cases. Others contend for frequent but not necessarily weekly partaking. Everyone seems to have their favorite person from church history to support their position.

I am in that latter group practicing it regularly but not weekly. I won't try to pit Luther against Calvin. I won't try to exegete a Greek word to win my position. I think the point is much easier to make. Scripture is silent on this matter as it applies to being prescriptive for us today.

Our Practice

It has been our intentional practice as a church to observe the Lord's Supper on the first Sunday of each month. Why? The warnings attached to the Lord's Supper in Scripture are concerned with drunkenness, selfishness, unrepentance, and other displays of partaking in an "unworthy manner" (1 Cor. 11:17-34). So Castleview Baptist Church (CBC) has chosen to have our observation be in a predictable pattern of the first Sunday of the month. This allows a sense of anticipation and preparation of our people of that important time. We rally around the work of Christ seen in the displays of the bread and wine ("fruit of the vine," i.e. grape juice, for those us influenced by the American temperance movement). We are called to remembrance, repentance, restoration of Christian relationships, and a reminder of a reunion to come, all for the honor of Christ.

Carefully considering our religious landscape and a possible inclination toward meaningless repetition, we have chosen to find a cadence of practice that calls for our regular remembrance, repentance, and reminder of his coming return without a frequency that inclines us toward ritualism.

I applaud what has happened in many evangelical churches of late, namely the return to frequent, if not weekly, observance. Such desire to find the balance between remembrance and ritualism seems to only set the table for the more important matters, such as the "fencing of the table," which has been missing for far too long. May our frequency be characterized by such commitments as we remember that "as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes" (1 Cor. 11:26). To that I say, "Maranatha!"

Recently I argued that a Christian minister ought not officiate at wedding ceremonies for unbelievers. These weddings, I contended, represent the trivialization of the Christian ministry and a loss of pastoral courage. Since then, I've received lots of queries about funerals. Should a Christian minister preach the funeral of an unbeliever? That's a very good question.

Some of the saddest moments of my ministry have been in funeral homes, preaching for people I didn't know. Early on in ministry, I became the "go to" minister for a local mortician when one of his deceased passed away with no religious affiliation. I've seen almost empty chapels, with no one to do the eulogy but me. And I've seen full chapels of family members who clearly hated the deceased. I had one deceased woman's daughter tell me there was nothing positive she could think to say about her mother, nothing at all, except that she did feed the birds in her backyard.

Do I think it was biblically acceptable to preach those funerals? Yes. Would I do it again today? Yes.

A funeral is an entirely different matter than a wedding. A wedding is about the near future (near meaning the next 30 to 70 years or so). A funeral is about the past, and about the ultimate future (the resurrection from the dead). A wedding is the witnessing of vows, the calling together of a covenant between two persons. A funeral doesn't call any reality together. It commits the body of the dead to the earth and awaits the resurrection of both the just and the unjust.

Having said that, I do think the funerals of unbelievers represent a test for pastoral courage, but in a very different way. Some ministers are tempted to become family chaplains in the funeral home just as in the wedding chapel, prattling on about Aunt Flossie walking on streets of gold when everyone knows Aunt Flossie was a militant atheist.

Courage doesn't mean announcing the arrival of the deceased in hell. You don't know that. I once heard an impressive sermon about how the thief on the cross's family probably all died never knowing that he was redeemed. One simply doesn't know the kind of plea for mercy that may be prayed out, perhaps even in the nanosecond before death.

Still, the funeral of an unbeliever ought to be a somber affair. The minister ought not speculate on the destiny of the deceased (except in very rare and exceptional circumstances) but should proclaim the reality of sin, righteousness, and judgment. He ought to speak of the certainty of death, of the quickness of life, and of the horror of the judgment seat. And then he ought to offer Christ to every hearer, clearly explaining how to know Jesus.

In some ways, a Christian pastor is fulfilling the very essence of his calling when he preaches an unbeliever's funeral. He is remembering in thanksgiving a life of one made in the image of God. He is there to interpret the reality that "the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom 6:23).

Editors' Note: Everyone has an opinion about youth ministry. Parents, pastors, and the youth themselves have expectations and demands that don't always overlap. But the rash of dire statistics about the ineffectiveness of youth ministry has prompted rethinking in these ranks. So we devote one day per week this month to exploring several issues in youth ministry, including its history, problems, and biblical mandate. The Gospel Coalition thanks Cameron Cole and the leadership team of Rooted: A Theology Conference for Student Ministry for their help in compiling this series. Cathedral Church of the Advent in Birmingham, Alabama, will host their 2012 conference from August 9 to 11. Speakers Ray Ortlund, Timothy George, and Mary Willson will expound on the conference theme, "Adopted: The Beauty of Grace."

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I have walked for ten years with Allen, who was my closest Christian friend in high school. During our senior year we were "on fire" for God and set out to walk with Christ throughout college. After our freshman year, I watched my poor friend weep often about why he did not experience Christ in a real way. His youth ministry had sold him a message that faithful obedience before God would yield an experiential intimacy and spiritual euphoria, which he failed to encounter. In spite of tireless religious striving, Allen felt as if his pursuits resulted in a tumbling spiral into a deep, dark void.

Not surprisingly, Allen became disenchanted with Christianity and the church. Only after ten years of courageous waiting and honest reflection has he been able to re-engage church without resentment and wounding. He synopsizes his youth ministry's message with a story, which his youth pastor used to tell kids. The story basically involved a sad man, sitting in a corner, disappointed and hurt by his children, who he wished would come pay attention to him. The youth pastor explained that the man in the corner was Jesus, who remained displeased with his children when they failed to spend time with him or when we disobeyed his commands. In sum, we are a disappointment to God unless we perform spiritually.

Based on my experience in youth ministry, if I had to identify the greatest theological problem in the field, it would be the absence of the gospel in teaching on sanctification. Most youth ministries faithfully preach justification by faith in Christ alone. In fact, I may even credit youth ministers with being more faithful than senior pastors in helping their flock understand Christianity as saving relationship rather than cultural religion. However, in the space of sanctification, youth ministry often focuses on emotional exhortation and moral performance. A legalistic tone frequently characterizes the theology of sanctification in youth ministry.

So why does youth ministry tend to be legalistic?

1. We want to see results.

Mark Upton, a former youth worker and current pastor at Hope Community Church in Charlotte, North Carolina, offered these wise words to me when I started youth ministry: "If anyone asks you about your ministry, tell them you will let them know in ten years." Like any ministry profession, youth pastors want to see changed lives. At the same time, youth pastors need to view themselves as sowers, planting gospel seeds for harvest down the road. (I know this personally as in times of despair I just want to see the kids "do something" to affirm that my ministry has worth.) Wanting validation for their tireless labor, youth ministers occasionally focus on behavior modification as a means of providing tangible proof of the efficacy of their ministry. A kid carrying his or her Bible to school, signing a chastity pledge, or sporting a WWJD bracelet may appear like signs of spiritual progress---the fruit of ministry labor for a youth pastor---but if these actions come out of a student misunderstanding Christianity as a code of behavior rather than heart transformation through the Holy Spirit, then they do not necessarily reflect lasting life change.

2. Kids are as destructive as nuclear warheads.

All kidding aside, kids have skewed filters for risk management and make destructive decisions. Very few youth pastors go through a year without the death of a teenager in the community where they serve. Many youth pastors preach moralism over the gospel in order to protect students from self-destruction. Unfortunately, law-driven ministry often yields the opposite of its intention; law and pressure often inflame rebellion.

3. Parents want moral children.

A gospel-centered youth pastor in South Carolina once told me that parents were his biggest opponents to him fully preaching the gospel. After several years of teaching the radical grace of the gospel, parents complained about a lack of concentration on drinking, sexual abstinence, obedience to parents, and "being nice." They viewed the message of grace as antinomian and as a license for kids to pursue hedonism. Parents rightly want moral children, as do youth pastors. Sometimes, families view the church exclusively as a vehicle for moral education, rather than spiritually forming them in Christ, and put pressure on youth and senior pastors to moralize their children. Many parents view the law alone as the catalyst for holy living, rather than law and grace, and want the youth ministry to embrace this same theology.

4. Many pastors are young in their faith and theology.

When I first started leading Bible studies as a volunteer, my messages usually included a reminder that we needed Jesus for salvation and then a list of moral directives. Over time, as I started to grow in scriptural and theological knowledge, I started to see the gospel of grace and the Holy Spirit as the drivers of sanctification. Tremendous mentoring from all of the pastors at my church and their encouraging and funding my seminary classes played the most influential role in this maturation.

Many youth ministers are young, both in age and in their faith. Given all of the other responsibilities that adult pastors must juggle, nurturing the theological and spiritual development of the youth pastor can be overlooked. Furthermore, churches often view the youth department as entertainment and relationships but not a serious teaching ministry. If churches fail to take seriously the theological development of their youth pastor and to view youth ministry as a teaching and discipleship ministry above all things, then the message likely will lack biblical or doctrinal depth and contain a law-driven message.

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Also in the series on youth ministry:

• A Brief History of Youth Ministry by Dave Wright
• MTD: Not Just a Problem with Youth Ministry by Brian H. Cosby

Editors' Note: This week The Gospel Coalition welcomes you to join us in an exciting new series called Commending the Classics. We're thrilled to welcome Wheaton College professor Leland Ryken as a sort of literature scholar in residence to guide us as we read classic books together. Every week he'll lend us his decades of learning to help us understand why these works have come to be regarded as timeless treasures. Have you ever thought, I've heard that book is great, but I'm intimidated to read it myself without any help? Then we've designed this series precisely with you in mind. You get the benefits of a reading community who will help you along and a gifted professor who will answer your questions.

We've conceived the series with sensitivity for your busy schedule, so we're focusing on shorter works you can finish in a matter of weeks or months. Keep on reading God's Word along with good theology and history and let Commending the Classics whet your appetite for thought-provoking fiction. We'll start with the much-discussed mid-century classic The Stranger by Albert Camus. Grab a copy and join us in an adventure that promises to challenge, confound, and ultimately cultivate our understanding of and compassion for the world. We've lined up a number of Christian leaders to convince you this is a worthwhile endeavor, but for now let Dr. Ryken explain why Christians should read Camus.

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There is no more representative intellectual figure of the mid-20th century than Albert Camus. In addition to being an influential fiction writer, Camus was at the focal point of the intellectual crosscurrents that swirled about Europe and crossed over to the United States. The underlying principles of those movements remain pervasive in Western culture, and this is part of the relevance of Camus to us today.

Born in Algeria in 1913, Camus was a restless spirit who kept on the move and pursued many intellectual and professional paths. As a literary figure, Camus is considered a French author. He is as famous as a philosopher as a fiction writer, and in fact his novels are an embodiment of his philosophical viewpoints. Camus was killed instantly in a car crash in 1960 at the age of 46.

The many-sided nature of Camus's life makes it a veritable primer on modern secularism. Camus was a political activist, pacifist, and revolutionary. He was twice married but dismissive of marriage as an institution. He lived a sensual and disordered life. That chaotic life is itself instructive for Christians. If we want to see modern man "writ large," Camus can supply our representative figure.

But my subject is why we should read Camus. Camus's life is the background chorus (a helpful one) to his writing. That writing encompasses such a wide range that I cannot cover it all in this brief essay. I will accordingly place my focus on Camus's best-known work, his 1942 novel The Stranger, a landmark of modern literature. Camus was a mere 29 years old when the novel was published.

The Storyteller

My first encounter with The Stranger came as I sat in a college chapel service at Central College in my home town of Pella, Iowa. A special-services speaker made a passing reference to Camus's masterpiece, citing the central premise of the story, namely, that the protagonist was found guilty not because he had murdered a man but because he had not wept at his mother's funeral. I found this narrative premise completely intriguing.

I first read The Stranger after my sophomore year in college while doing church work in California. Another member of my team had just read the novel and recommended it. I found the famous opening captivating and unforgettable: "Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can't be sure. The telegram from the Home says: YOUR MOTHER PASSED AWAY. FUNERAL TOMORROW. DEEP SYMPATHY. Which leaves the matter doubtful; it could have been yesterday." Thomas Hardy once claimed that a story must be striking enough to be worth the telling. The Stranger meets that criterion.

Camus maintains the brilliance of writing all the way through the novel. The last sentence is as striking as the first: "For me to feel less lonely, all that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration."

The first reason why Christians should read Camus the novelist is thus a narrative and aesthetic reason: Camus is a great storyteller and provides the materials and occasion for artistic entertainment. The Stranger is worth reading just for the brilliance of its style. The example of John Milton is instructive at this point. Although Milton eventually came to deplore the moral viewpoint of the Roman poets who had fired his youthful imagination, he nonetheless records that "their art I still applauded." After all, the image of God in people is what enables them to create form and beauty. I have always relished the aristry of The Stranger despite the distance I feel from the worldview that it offers for my approval.

Voice of Authentic Human Experience

The subject of literature, I tell my students repeatedly, is human experience. Literature rarely gives us new information. What it does instead is put us in touch with human experience, clarifying that experience in the process. The Stranger performs that function to a preeminent degree.

The protagonist of the story is named Meursault. His actions and responses are abnormal in the extreme. Above all, he is unable to attribute normal human feeling and meaning to the external events of his life. He murders a man and feels no regret. When Meursault's girlfriend, Marie, asks him to marry her, the first-person narrator records, "I said I didn't mind; if she was keen on it, we'd get married."

To write this off as being so abnormal as to be irrelevant is to miss the point. The imagination always heightens what it touches. As a result, the experiences of life stand silhouetted with more-than-ordinary clarity. Meursault's life is a completely accurate picture of how many people around us live---a heightened and exaggerated picture, to be sure, but an accurate picture.

This is a second reason for Christians to read Camus: his fictional characters and the events of their lives are a window to our world. The daily news is also a window to our world, but it is out of date 48 hours later. Meursault, by contrast, haunts our memory and becomes an unforgettable acquaintance. As we ponder him, we come to understand some of the people in our own lives.

Camus the Modern Philosopher

Camus is also a towering modern philosopher. It is true that Camus repeatedly disavowed belonging to modern schools of thought. Yet these traditions are obvious in his writings and interviews. All I can say by way of explanation is that Camus was distrustful of organized systems. Thus when he claims not to be an existentialist, it means that he did not wish to be identified with all facets of that movement and its adherents. Additionally, we need to read Camus's statements carefully. When he claimed in a 1950 essay that he had made a lifelong attempt to "transcend nihilism," it is not necessarily the case that his attempt was successful.

In his own day and subsequently, Camus was regarded as an existentialist. The protagonist of The Stranger (whom Camus professed to admire) is an existential hero: encompassed in a world of total subjectivity, regarding his own existence of the moment as the only reality, denying the possibility of supernatural reality and its consolations, living under the shadow of death, and operating on the premise that life itself is the highest value.

It is incorrect to say that such existentialism died long ago. Existentialism is not only a philosophic movement of the mid-20th century; it is also a universal. Many people in our society live and think as existentialists, and if we want to understand them, assimilating Camus's existential novel is a great help.

The literary and philosophical movement with which Camus was most thoroughly identified in his own day was the absurdist movement. It is hardly too much to say that The Stranger was the "poster book" of the absurdist movement. Fellow French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote an essay on The Stranger that helped to make it famous. In it he wrote, "Absurdity means divorce, discrepancy. The Stranger is . . . a novel of discrepancy, divorce, and disorientation." Sartre also related the style of the book to this absurdist viewpoint, noting that every sentence is self-contained, with the world being "destroyed and reborn from sentence to sentence."

As with existentialism, it would be wrong to relegate the absurdist view of life to a philosophic and literary movement of the mid-20th century. Mersault's inability to attach normal meaning to the events in his life---the absurd gap between the protagonist's experience and his response to that experience---is what we see in less drastic form all around us. If we understand Meursault, we understand much about our own society.

Another modern movement that finds expression in Camus is nihilism. Although Camus wished to distance himself from nihilism as a philosophic system, his fictional protagonist Merusault is every inch a nihilist who denies that life has meaning. Meursault yells at the chaplain who visits him in prison, "Nothing, nothing had the least importance." Of course part of this nihilism is denying the existence of God ("I explained that I didn't believe in God," Merusault tells the chaplain). The new atheism that afflicts us today is not new at all. We can find it full-blown in Camus's novel.

To sum up:  another good reason for Christians to read Camus is the clarity with which his writing embodies leading philosophic viewpoints of the modern and contemporary worlds. The fact that The Stranger is set in Algeria 75 years ago, far from being a detriment, gives the book a helpful distance from our own moment in history. Emancipated from the surface clutter of our own cultural situation, the story is able to highlight the essential features of our world.

An Almost-Christian?

I want to conclude by returning to the life of the author. Camus offers us a case study in the mystery of how some alleged non-Christians are actually deeply engaged with the Christian faith. By exploring the vagaries of Camus's interactions with Christianity, we can sharpen our understanding of the complexity of what we find in the attitudes of many people around us who seem intransigent to the Christian faith but who remain deeply entangled with it.

Camus's early upbringing was Catholic, and he was baptized as an infant. Although Camus rejected institutional Christianity, he nonetheless remained in dialogue with Christians and Christianity throughout his life. Christianity was for him an intermittent sparring partner. The author of the book Albert Camus and Christianity (Jean Ominus; University of Alabama Press, 1965) writes that although Camus "was totally divorced from religion . . . there is in him the trace of a scar, even an open wound."

Early in my study of The Stranger I encountered references to the view that Camus was moving toward a Christian viewpoint shortly before his untimely death. This is hard to extract from Camus's writing, but certain aspects of his life make the hypothesis plausible. For example, in an interview on the occasion of his receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1957, Camus said, "I have only veneration and respect for the person of Christ and for his life. I do not believe in his resurrection."

The real shocker was a book published in 2000 by an American Methodist named Howard Mumma, who served as guest minister at the American Church in Paris for several summers in the late 1950s. The book (Albert Camus and the Minister, Paraclete Press) chronicles how Camus sought the minister out for "irregular and occasional" dialogues. Eventually Camus asked Mumma to perform a private baptism (which Mumma refused). When Camus accompanied Mumma to the airport for his return to the United States that summer, expecting to resume their conversation the following year, he said, "I am going to keep striving for the Faith." He was dead within a few months.

Camus's moral and humanitarian earnestness is well attested. But if beyond that Camus became a serious Christian seeker, we are naturally teased into looking at his writings for evidences of a seeking soul beneath the overt rejection of orthodox Christianity and the church. And if such complexity could exist in a famous modern agnostic, what light might that shed on some of the acquaintances in our own lives? This, too, is a reason for Christians to read Camus.

I am convinced that many of the problems in pastoral culture result from an unbiblical definition of the essential ingredients of ministry success. Sure, most candidate profiles expect a "vibrant walk with the Lord," but these words are often weakened by a process that asks few questions in this area and makes grand assumptions. We're really interested in knowledge (right theology), skill (good preacher), ministry philosophy (will build the church), and experience (isn't cutting his pastoral teeth in this new place of ministry). I have heard church leaders, in moments of pastoral crisis, say many times, "We didn't know the man we hired."

What does knowing the man entail? It means knowing the true condition of his heart---as far as such is possible. What does he really love, and what does he despise? What are his hopes, dreams, and fears? What are the deep desires that fuel and shape the way he does ministry? What anxieties have the potential to derail or paralyze him? How accurate is his view of himself? How open is he to confrontation, critique, and encouragement? How committed is he to his own sanctification?

How open is he about his own temptations, weaknesses, and failures? How ready is he to listen to and defer to the wisdom of others? Is pastoral ministry a community project to him? Does he have a tender, nurturing heart? Is he warm and hospitable, a shepherd and champion to those who are suffering? What character qualities would his wife and children use to describe him? Does he sit under his own preaching? Is his heart broken and his conscience regularly grieved as he looks at himself in the mirror of the Word? How robust, consistent, joyful, and vibrant is his devotional life?

Does his ministry to others flow out of the vibrancy of his devotional communion with the Lord? Does he hold himself to high standards, or does he settle for mediocrity? Is he sensitive to the experience and needs of those who minister alongside him? Does he embody the love and grace of the Redeemer? Does he overlook minor offenses? Is he ready and willing to forgive? Is he critical and judgmental? How does the public pastor differ from the private husband and dad? Does he take care of his physical self? Does he numb himself with too much social media or television? How would he fill in this blank: "If only I had ________"? How successful has he been in pastoring the congregation that is his family?

True Condition of the Pastor's Heart

A pastor's ministry is never just shaped by his experience, knowledge, and skill. It is also always shaped by the true condition of his heart. In fact, if his heart is not in the right place, knowledge and skill can make him dangerous.

Pastors often struggle to find living, humble, needy, celebratory, worshipful, meditative communion with Christ. It is as if Jesus has left the building. There is all kinds of ministry knowledge and skill, but it seems divorced from a living communion with a living and ever-present Christ. All this activity, knowledge, and skill seems to be fueled by something else. Ministry becomes shockingly impersonal. Then it's about theological content, exegetical rightness, ecclesiastical commitments, and institutional advancement. It's about preparing for the next sermon, getting the next meeting agenda straight, and filling the requisite leadership openings. It's about budgets, strategic plans, and ministry partnerships.

None of these things is wrong in itself. Many of them are essential. But they must never be ends in themselves. They must never be the engine that propels the vehicle. They must all express something deeper in the pastor's heart.

The pastor must be enthralled by, in awe of, and in love with his Redeemer so that everything he thinks, desires, chooses, decides, says, and does is propelled by love for Christ and the security of rest in the love of Christ. He must be regularly exposed by, humbled by, assured by, and given rest by the grace of his Redeemer. His heart needs to be tenderized day after day by his communion with Christ so that he becomes a loving, patient, forgiving, encouraging, and giving servant-leader. His meditation on Christ, his presence, his promises, and his provisions must not be overwhelmed by his meditation on how to make his ministry work.

Protection Against All Other Loves

Only love for Christ can defend the heart of the pastor against all other loves that have the potential to kidnap his ministry. Only worship of Christ has the power to protect him from all the seductive idols of ministry that will whisper in his ear. Only the glory of the risen Christ will guard him against the self-glory that tempts all and destroys the ministry of so many.

Only Christ can turn an arrogant, "bring on the world" seminary graduate into a patient, humble giver of grace. Only deep gratitude for a suffering Savior can make a man willing to suffer in ministry. Only in brokenness before your own sin can you give grace to fellow rebels among whom God has called you to minister. Only when your identity is firmly rooted in Christ will you find freedom from seeking to get your identity out of your ministry.

We must be careful how we define ministry readiness and spiritual maturity. There is a danger in thinking that the well-educated and well-trained seminary graduate is ministry ready or to mistake ministry knowledge, busyness, and skill with personal spiritual maturity. Maturity is a vertical thing that will have a wide variety of horizontal expressions. Maturity is about relationship to God that results in wise and humble living. Maturity of love for Christ expresses itself in love for other.

Thankfulness for the grace of Christ expresses itself in grace to others. Gratitude for the patience and forgiveness of Christ enables you to be patient and forgiving of others. Your daily experience of the rescue of the gospel gives you a passion for people experiencing the same rescue. This is the soil in which true ministry success grows.

On the first day of its release, Flame's new album, The 6th, soared to #1 on the iTunes Hip Hop/Rap Albums chart and to #9 overall. It also debuted at the top slot on Billboard's Gospel Albums chart. Needless to say, the 30-year-old Grammy Award nominee from St. Louis is winning a wide hearing for the sake of the gospel.

You can stream one of the tracks, "The Great Deception," below. (Album lyrics are available here.)

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What's the significance of the title The 6th?

Besides this being my sixth album, The 6th is a project that explores the topic of anthropology (the study of man). I address the most important and crucial issues concerning our humanity from a Christian worldview. God created man, both male and female, on the 6th day. It's on that day he gave us the responsibility to rule the earth and to fill it with his image. It is there that God deposited purpose, value, and meaning into our race.

However, because sin entered our world through the disobedience of Adam, mankind has fallen far away from our original purpose. The album explores both the positive and negative aspects of who we were, who we are, and who we can be. The overarching theme is that only in the Son of God, Jesus Christ, can humanity return to its original state. Jesus re-established the image of God in the person and, by the Holy Spirit upon repentance and faith, continues to make them more like himself. In Christ, paradise lost becomes paradise restored and enhanced!

In a recent video interview you said, "I take my life experiences [and] my theological training, and I get to smash it all together and make it rhyme." How did your experiences shape your view of humanity prior to knowing Christ, and how have those perceptions evolved since your conversion?

The community I grew up in was very religious. Many people visited the church building occasionally. Before my conversion I assumed that I was on God's good side. I also thought good people who were churchgoers were guaranteed a place in heaven. Hell was reserved for all the bad people who disrupted the peace in our world. Post-conversion, however, I came to think in more biblical categories. Persons who reject Christ are cast away, and those who are drawn and are receptive to his call inherit eternal life.

You're a recent graduate of Boyce College and are currently pursuing your MDiv at Southern Seminary in Louisville. Why, as an artist, do you think it necessary to pursue a theological education?

The Bible says in James 3:1, "Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness." It is my conviction that when artists hold the mic and seek to communicate God's heart through music, they must be students of the Word aiming to share God's Word as accurately and practically as they can.

What books influenced this project?

The two major influences for this project were Peter Gentry's article "Kingdom Through Covenant: Humanity as the Divine Image" and Russell Moore's book Tempted and Tried. When I wrote the song "Scripture Alone" I derived a lot of my material from James White from Alpha Omega ministries.

What do you hope to be the relationship between your music ministry and the local church?

My hope is that my music would be a supplement to the local church. I pray my music says things that would drive a person to repentance and permanent fellowship with the people of God through church membership.

You recently started a record label, Clear Sight Music. What has been the biggest challenge in transitioning from artist only to label owner?

The biggest challenge would probably be the increase in workload. I've always been hands-on as an artist, which has allowed me to experience a great deal of what it takes to navigate the music industry. Nevertheless, as a label owner the responsibilities double. Praise God for my wife and team who contribute excellently to keeping the machine rolling.

There has been a long-running debate about how Christian artists should reflect the surrounding artistic culture and seek to change it. How do you see your role as a Christian in the arts?

I've heard helpful perspectives from both sides. I also have dear friends who love Jesus and are passionate about ministry who stand on both sides of the spectrum. However, I believe it is virtually impossible to not be influenced by the surrounding artistic culture. There is beauty that God has established in this world that has fallen into the hands of non-Christians. To distance oneself from those good things is unnecessary, I believe. Having said that, I believe our responsibility as Christian artists is to show what the arts can look like once Christ gets a hold of a person. This is a call to be creative, to pursue excellence, and to demonstrate holiness with a clear and upfront gospel message and lifestyle. Prayerfully this will have an effect on people and lead them to the cross. As a result, the culture is changed. I suppose my perspective is "both-and."

Editors' Note: Even though they may have little connection to a church, many couples today still want a traditional wedding ceremony with a pastor officiating. If you were the pastor, how would you respond? In this article, Deepak Reju of Capitol Hill Baptist Church says "yes" with conditions. For a different take, see Russell Moore's answer.

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Suppose Debbie, who is not a Christian, asked me if I would officiate at her wedding. She is planning to get married to her boyfriend, who is also not a Christian. With a few important conditions, I would likely say, "Yes." Why would I marry two non-Christians?

Marriage is a creation ordinance. God created marriage (Gen 2:15-25). He made it as a fundamental part of how he designed the world we live in. God gave marriage as a gift to the first couple and also to all men and women who desire to partake (James 1:17).

Marriage is also a common grace institution; a grace given by God to both Christians and non-Christians alike (Isaiah 62:5; Ezek 44:22; Matt 19:10; Matt 22:24-28; Luke 17:27; Luke 20:34). Heterosexual marriage is legally recognized as a universal privilege for any man and woman who desires it. As Solomon declares to his son, "He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord" (Prov 18:22).

A faithful husband and wife are an imperfect picture of God's committed love. Sin may hinder our ability to reflect what God is like, but even as sinners, we remain people made in the image of God. As such, two non-Christians who stay committed to one another remind us of God. Their marriage covenant reflects God's committed, covenantal love better than our fickle, noncommittal love.

Few Conditions

Premarital counseling and officiating a ceremony for two non-Christians is a tremendous evangelistic opportunity. I would only officiate for my non-Christian friend Debbie under a few conditions, including:

• In talking with the couple, I would make sure there is a genuine commitment, commonly shared values, a similar vision for the future, and no hidden sins from the past.
• I would not marry a non-Christian to a Christian. That's an explicit violation of Scripture---Paul encourages Christians to only marry someone who "belongs to the Lord" (1 Cor 7:39, NIV; see also 1 Cor 6:14-18).
• I would ask the couple to do premarital counseling with me so that I can teach them the purposes of marriage from God's Word.
• I would make sure they understand beforehand that the ceremony would be explicitly Christ-centered.

The premarital counseling and the officiating of the ceremony provide a wonderful opportunity for me (as a pastor) to proclaim the truths of God's Word to this non-Christian couple (and their unbelieving family and friends at the ceremony). After hearing these conditions, if they still want me to officiate, then I'd happily do it!

Marriage as a creation ordinance; as a common grace institution; as a reminder of God's covenantal love; and as an evangelistic opportunity---all four of these reasons lead me to believe that I as a pastor should be willing to marry two non-Christians, to the glory and praise of our Great God.

Editors' Note: Even though they may have little connection to a church, many couples today still want a traditional wedding ceremony with a pastor officiating. If you were the pastor, how would you respond? In this article, Russell Moore of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary says "no." For a different take, see Deepak Reju's answer.

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Early in my ministry I found myself with a difficult decision. A couple asked me to officiate at their wedding. Neither of them was a follower of Jesus. It was a torturous quandary because I wanted an ongoing relationship with them as an inroad to the gospel.

This couple wasn't disobeying the God by "being unequally yoked." That would have been an easy answer, since the Scripture forbids it as sin.

Marriage is a creation ordinance, given to all people (Gen 2:23-24). It is good for unbelievers to marry. It's good for them, for their children, and for society as a whole.

I called several pastors I know. One told me he marries virtually whoever asks. Another told me he routinely married unbelievers, as a means of sharing the gospel. I went away from these conversations depressed. It seemed to me there was something trivializing about marriage and the call to preach in these conversations.

I find that this question remains one of the most pressing questions for young ministers. Should a minister of the gospel marry unbelievers?

No.

Sterner Stuff

First of all, a minister of the gospel needs to know that he has no personal authority. Ordination does not mystically confer authority to a preacher or pastor. The pastor has legitimate authority (Heb 13:17), and I believe ordination is biblical (1 Tim 3:1-7; 2 Tim 1:6). However, this authority is not his authority, it is gospel authority.

In the New Testament, the marriages of church members are the business of the church community (1 Cor 7; Eph 5). Furthermore, Paul tells the church at Corinth: "For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside" (1 Cor 5:12-13).

For unbelievers the church has no right to hold a couple to their vows through church discipline. They are not members of the church. A church that isn't able to hold a couple to their vows (through discipleship and discipline) has no right to solemnize these vows. So, in the case of unbelievers, a minister of the state is perfectly appropriate to officiate because it is the state, not the church, which will hold the couple accountable.

Almost every pastor I've ever heard who performs weddings appeals to the evangelistic potential. I've never met an unbelieving couple who were won to Christ by a pastor who was willing to marry them regardless of their belief in Christ. I know several couples, though, who came to Christ because a faithful pastor lovingly told them no, and why.

For many young ministers, this question comes down to a question of courage. If you're not able to turn down family members and friends who expect you to act as a wedding chaplain for them, then how are you going to turn down unbelievers who want to baptized? The gospel minister is made of sterner stuff than what many of us are accustomed to seeing.

The wedding ceremony is one more place where we don't need civil servants. We need ministers of the gospel, those with the courage to let their yes be yes and their no be no.