The Gospel Coalition

“Calling gender violence against women a ‘women’s issue’ is part of the problem.” That’s Jackson Katz’s perspective and I think he is right. An excellent talk that highlights, in part, the way privilege and language exempts men from caring about and acting when abuse comes into view. I appreciate Katz’s mild rant here; it’s a much-needed rant. Consider Katz’s TEDS talk and, brothers, let’s own this thing.

I don’t know when it first occurred to me to do this. Since I don’t have any original ideas I must have picked it up from someone or some place else.

But for the past few years, I’ve tried to make it a habit of saying “thank you for your service to our country” to uniformed men and women in the armed services and to veterans proudly wearing patches on their jackets and hats. It usually happens in airports and occasionally on elevators. But if we have more than a moment’s eye contact, I try to say, “Thank you for serving our country. I’m really grateful.”

Almost without fail the veteran or soldier responds with surprise. Sometimes there’s an awkwardness, an embarrassment born of humility. Sometimes there’s relief, as if finally noticed and appreciated. Sometimes there’s that characteristic military uprightness, as if not quite off duty and still determination to do one’s duty.

But in nearly every case I can recall, there was surprise that someone apart from their family or another veteran actually looked them in the eye and said, “Thank you.” I’m a little saddened that some of our troops sometimes feel under-appreciated, that military service has lost some of its luster, that donning the uniform with honor may feel like a thankless job.

I’m saddened, in part, because we have a lot to give God and our soldiers thanks for. Our freedoms are unprecedented and protected. Our lifestyles are lavish by any international standard. Our opportunities are wide-ranging. Our communities peaceful. I mean, when’s the last time you and I feared military invasion? In your lifetime has there been a military coup or a dictator refusing to peacefully leave office? Can you even recall a real cultural threat from a rival power?

Yet, many American citizens spend most of the calendar year wailing and moaning as if these things are realities for us. We must look foolish to refugees from Rwanda or Sudan, to persons living in shelled out houses in Syria, or to the “electorate” of countries with real voter suppression and fraud. I know we have problems in the country. But, think for a moment: Aren’t our country’s problems almost entirely of our country’s making? And aren’t our country’s problems magnified by a lack of gratitude for the blessings of God served and protected by men and women in uniform? I wonder if we would perceive fewer problems if we were more thankful.

So, might I suggest that the next time you see a soldier in the airport, rather than being a twinge jealous that they get to board the plane early, make eye contact and sincerely thank them for standing on the wall and risking their own lives and families to serve the rest of us–the sometimes complaining, sometimes ungrateful, sometimes lazy, the often overfed, over-indulged, over-entertained, under-exercised comfort-loving, risk-averse, convenience-seeking, home-building, credit-using, retirement-saving rest of us. They risk all so that we can enjoy such “freedoms.”

This Memorial Day, perhaps we should commit to give thanks and say “thank you” everyday of the year. It would be great if our soldiers were not surprised when the people they protect said, “Thank you.”

This is hilarious! I don’t know what possessed these guys to do this. Obviously they’ve never been in the labor room to see women delivering. You couldn’t pay me to participate even in a simulation! If men had to have babies the species would have gone extinct with Adam!

You don’t know who might be watching you with a karaoke machine! I loved this video!

Sweet dreams are made of this….

My friend Kevin DeYoung beat me to the “post” button with his question and concern on “New Wave Complementarianism.” Kevin is always thoughtful and helpful with a wonderful ability to take complex things and make them simple.

If you’ve read his post, you know that he responds to another post entitled “New Wave Complementarianism” written by Wendy Alsup. I don’t know Wendy personally but I’ve appreciated her courage and her insight over the couple years I’ve been reading her books and blog. In her post, Wendy (as I read her) attempts a framework for describing a phenomena she sees among many women who (a) love their Bibles, (b) are themselves unashamed complementarians, but (c) sometimes find themselves uncomfortable with what Alsup calls “old school complementarianism.” In reply, Kevin asks the question: “What was the old wave” of complementarianism?

Definitions Matter

When Wendy offered her post a couple weeks back, I was one of Kevin’s friends who tweeted an appreciation for it. That’s not to say I agreed with everything in the post. But I resonated with its spirit, which I’d tried to express in my own terms some time back in a series of posts titled, “I’m a Complementarian, But….”

If we’re to have a fruitful conversation, it seems to me we need to start with definitions, with Kevin’s question. Otherwise we’re bound to talk right past one another. When Wendy wrote of “old school complementarians” and “hard core complementarianism/patriarchy” I think she made at least a rhetorical error. I don’t think she means to equate patriarchy with complementarity (I trust she’ll be able to speak to that herself), but putting these things on par creates some confusion and probably the male counterpart to what some women feel when they hear feminism treated as an unmitigated evil. We ought not conflate patriarchy (often a pejorative synonymous with oppression of women) with either “old school” or “hard core” complementarianism (a biblical understanding of our humanity and how our genders relate in home and church).

As I see it, two problems result. First, we simply and harmfully mis-define and misrepresent both patriarchy and complementarity. Being too casual or too sloppy at this point risks setting up “sides” in a discussion that ought genuinely feature partners–especially if we’re legitimate complementarians. Second, not drawing clear distinctions between patriarchy and complementarity prevents us from benefitting from both history and our contemporary discussion. We miss each other.

What We Could Miss in This Discussion

I’m excited for what could happen in this conversation. It could result in fresh and joyful wind filling the sails of complementarian practice. We could learn to speak and live this vision of our shared humanity in a way that makes God’s wisdom and creativity beautiful inside and outside the church to some measure. But for that to happen, we have to be careful to hear the “gist” of what conversation partners are saying.

Missing Our Sisters’ Perspective. For example, I read Wendy’s post and others around the same time with appreciation and hope in part because I heard something very different than Kevin. Kevin heard in the post a kind of apologetic against egalitarianism that ceded too much ground. Witness his concluding sentence: “The impulse to rescue counter-cultural doctrines from their own unpopularity is one of the first steps to losing the doctrine altogether.” I think that sentence is true. Making tough doctrines “prettier” to their “cultured despisers” does tend toward the loss of the truth itself. But is that what is happening here?

When I read Alsup and others, I heard a collection of sisters serious about the faith, embracing the Bible and complementarity (sometimes admittedly against their sinful inclinations), who want to be useful to the Lord and His church, but who also have a critique to offer. I hear some women who have had sometimes painful experiences with malpractice. And I hear some women who are telling us that they’re picking up messages that major on exclusion and weakness–what women cannot do and what some teach as inherent feminine gullibility and debility or disability. I’m hearing some women telling us that some fundamental affirmation of their beauty, dignity, purpose, and usefulness as women goes lacking in our teaching and our community. They are listening to us as women—as God has made them—and they are endeavoring to tell us something about that experience of hearing our teaching and receiving our leadership.

To borrow from one sister who I thought at points wrote beautifully and helpfully of this critique:

“We want you to understand that male is not the default setting for human existence. That being female was not an afterthought or a derivative. We want you to understand that we happily defer to you, but not easily. That submission is a sacrifice we gladly offer but it is a sacrifice nonetheless. It is a sacrifice precisely because we are equals. And deferring to you in our homes and churches requires a strength that only God can provide.”

We need to hear these critiques even if we don’t agree at every point along the way. We need to treasure this precisely because we are complementarians of a biblical variety, whether “old school” or “hard core.” I think we need to hear it because I’m certain we’ve all seen and heard enough of the malpractice to know that our sisters’ critiques are not unfounded. It would be to the blessing of our sisters in our churches if we could mine everything that’s good and necessary from this perspective so that we might speak of and live out complementarity beautifully.

What Some Women Miss. On the other hand, I long for some sisters to hear some very real concerns at both the broader cultural level and at the most practical level of home. Culturally, we are still in the battle for a vision of flourishing gender in biblical roles. But the battle lines have shifted in some regards. When some of the “old complementarians” took up arms in this fight, there were snarling opponents outside the church and inside the church. To them it seemed an almost lost cause from the beginning. Their leaning into the storm was a tremendous act of courage and faith. Many of the chief opponents held influential pulpits and presidencies at Christian institutions. I hope they might be forgiven if sometimes the tone they use seems battle-hardened, perhaps more fitting for that “old” struggle against those “old” enemies.

Many of these stalwarts are, frankly, surprised that so much ground for complementarity has actually been warn. Yet some of them (or more accurately, their followers) may not have realized that they don’t have to capture the same ground twice. They don’t have to respond to sisters on the same team with tones and comments similar to how those developed over years of strife and conflict. But I hope they might be forgiven if they sometimes react with a little PTSD when they hear sisters “inside the camp” seemingly evoking the arguments of “enemies” long declared opposed to a biblical view. When you’ve been fighting on one front for so long you can begin to respond to every front much the same way. Everything looks like a nail to a hammer. But these men and women are not calling for an oppressive patriarchy as I understand it. To equate them with patriarchal oppressors of women does them a significant disservice and fails to pay proper respect to the gains they’ve won for us all. Hence, again, the need for definition and carefulness.

Moreover, I long for some sisters to hear the argumentation for the typical understanding of Genesis 3:16. That understanding best represents the general state of things when it comes to the typical experience of breakdowns in of complementarity in the home. I don’t doubt for a moment that there are plenty of women who do not wish to rule over their husbands. We don’t want to stereotype. But my pastoral counseling experience teaches me that the woman’s “desire for her husband” all too often does, in fact, look like a usurping of roles, a grasping for authority and control. What I see in homes isn’t just “idolatrous desire for a husband’s affection” but also a strong craving to “rule over the man.” And in surprising ways those two sinful inclinations tend to twine themselves together. The more she grabs for rulership, the less affection she receives from a retreating husband. The more a woman craves that affection but doesn’t get it, the more she defaults to control as a mechanism for coercing it. And on it goes. Pastorally, I think the “new wave” interpretation of Genesis 3:16 really misses the experiential mark for tons of women. Since Alsup’s interpretation of Gen. 3:16 is foundational to her description of “NWC,” it seems further thought and adjustment is needed at precisely this point. This is, after all, where the rubber most painfully hits the road and burns our dreams.

Speaking Beautifully about the Beautiful

Let me say that I mostly agree with Kevin’s response to points 4-6 of Alsup’s articulation of “New Wave Complementarianism.” As already mentioned, I think the typical interpretation of Genesis 3:16 is more compelling. I’m less negative about feminism than Kevin seems but also less sanguine than Alsup. What I appreciate about feminism is what perhaps Alsup appreciates—it was an effort to correct oppressive actions against women. I think we’re all against such oppression. But I’m less sanguine than Alsup (perhaps?) because feminism responds to oppression by placing an explosive charge at the very pillars of a biblical understanding of gender and gender roles. That’s been far more destructive in its effects than seemingly acknowledged in Alsup’s appreciation.

But, honestly, from my vantage point, our debate about those things feels and seems much less important than our ability to describe and live a complementarian vision with beauty and dignity and grace—on the ground. If we don’t learn to speak of a beautiful thing beautifully, we won’t make much more progress in either direction. If our practice isn’t our apologetic (1 Tim. 4:14; Titus 2:405, for ex.), then we won’t really have anything to commend.

In some of the “New Wave” posts, wonderfully poignant points were made. But they would also be marred with a kind of agitation and advocacy that I’m sure felt necessary but to me marred the beauty. You could leave feeling like you were the enemy rather than the complement. Likewise, in the counter responses, to the extent that they miss the “gist” of our sisters’ concerns, it’s not difficult to see how some women might go away feeling as if they were just tagged with the “egalitarian,” “feminist” or “problem” label. What they felt could be beautiful might seem trampled upon with slippery slope warnings.

It seems to me that we need a lot more work on describing the essential beauty of femininity and complementarity. We need to repeatedly point to that almost ineffable quality of womanhood that makes it regal, splendid, alluring, and necessary in essence. Womanhood is not an afterthought or a surplus. I know everyone knows and understands that, but do we make it a major point in our teaching and treatment of each other?

We need a lot more work on describing the functional beauty of femininity and complementarity. How womanhood works is in itself beautiful. Women are not men with different reproductive organs. They are, as God designed them, uniquely capacitated to work and do. We ought not be afraid of the phrase “women’s work,” because I suspect God did have in mind a “women’s work” that uniquely belonged to them, not in  the sense of relegated insignificance but in the sense of a fuller and distinct revelation of something about himself. And that’s beautiful. It’s Satan’s work to make us think otherwise.

We need to discuss the spiritual beauty of femininity and complementarity. I find the invitation to think about the imago Dei more frequently in these discussions an attractive opportunity. I’m no Barthian or neo-Barthian and I don’t feel myself in danger of Kevin’s concern here. But I’m certain God had intention, purpose, design beyond body when in infinite wisdom He decided to make woman. The spiritual qualities of womanhood and how they are both similar and dissimilar to manhood could use more treatment, especially as it beautifies those qualities rather than obfuscates them.

Finally, we need to discuss the moral beauty of complementarity and femininity. It’s good and right to be a woman who embraces both the limits and the freedoms that God gives. That goodness and rightness needs articulation. We need constant description of how moral flourishing happens when we abide in this vision of our humanity.

I wonder if we might be able to seize this opportunity to think and write beautifully about a reality that is itself beautiful. Or will we miss this potential because, truthfully, miss the opportunity to be complementarians?

Influence. It’s a funny thing. It’s inescapable–someone will always be perceived to have it or not have it, to either use or misuse it. We complain about it, but we also want to be influenced. Very few people are thorough-going “Lone Rangers” about anything. We see the utility of influence. We want someone to point us on a good course, to help us over a hurdle, and to set a model for us. Influence is how you get some things done or prevent others. Who doesn’t want influence on certain policy issues or certain church initiatives or with our children and spouses? We live in a world where influence is traded, debated, manipulated, and fabricated. Some people look influential but they aren’t. Some people look insignificant but wield influence like a sword. Some name drop and talk about how much “pull” they have. Others need only raise an eyebrow and real actions follow. Some people want influence badly while others run from it.

There used to be a commercial about a brokerage firm named E.F. Hutton. The quip in the commercial was, “When E.F. Hutton speaks, people listen.” Dropping that name at a dinner party silenced the entire soiree as party-goers leaned in to hear whatever E. F. Hutton was poised to say. E.F. Hutton has been sold a couple times, merged with other companies, and now apparently restarted by former executives of the original firm. If I had to guess, many readers of this post have likely never heard the name “E. F. Hutton.”

So goes influence. It, like money, makes itself wings and flies away.

Which is why you shouldn’t really listen to me. I’m nobody. “Thabiti Anyabwile” is not a Swahili name for “E. F. Hutton.” Don’t stop what you were doing. Don’t tune in to a post because I mention it in a twitter feed. Don’t begin to think my opinion about anything matters much at all, certainly not to the extent that you need to hold that view simply because somebody said I once said it. I ain’t nobody.

Now, some of you think you knew that already. That’s good; keep it that way please. But I suspect that some others have mentioned my name in this or that conversation, favorably or unfavorably, and imagined that I had some influence they should either accept or counter. Some have decided they either like or dislike me because I’m associated with this or that person, because I get to preach at conferences, because I’m a member of TGC, because I blog at TGC, because I hold a particular theology, and because they think such “platforms” give me influence.

Here’s the thing about influence: It mostly lies in the subjective impression of the person being or resisting influence. We see someone prominent, standing out, and we assign to them the magical quality of influence. But influence is not often real, objective, measurable. It depends on the person wanting influence convincing others to see them as influential. Don’t get me wrong; some few people really do have power and authority to make some things happen. But the rest of us have some level of “clout” assigned to us by those watching us and trying to make sense of whether we exist for some positive or negative good in the world. I don’t want “clout.” I have no power. Ideas have power. People… not so much.

That’s why you shouldn’t listen to me, as though some authority or influence resided in me. I don’t want the kind of influence that rests upon personality, “platforms,” networks, and least of all “appearance” or “image.” If you find yourself on the opposing end of an argument or an idea, let’s stay focused on the argument or idea. I don’t want to be your enemy and I hope not to treat you like one. If you find yourself moved by an idea, by an argument, by some principled application, then know that you’ve been influenced by an idea. If you got it from me, that’s incidental. Everything I have I first received. Central is the grace of God and the truth of God.

So, don’t listen to me. Chances are you don’t even know me. I’m not likely related to you. I’m probably not your pastor. I don’t have any control over the events in your life. I certainly have no part in the incommunicable attributes of God like omniscience. Everything I’ve ever said, done, or written is only partially true, corrupted by my faults, limitations, and sin, and likely in need of a good dose of correction or balance. In fact, I’d be grateful to anyone who cares enough either about ideas or me to add a gracious word of correction to any ideas I’ve expressed. I don’t take it as an attack, but as an act of courage and duty borne by responsible men and women.

Why this post? It’s not a direct response to anyone or any controversy. I even chose a random date for it to post. No, it’s because I need the reminder of this post. I’m vulnerable to the tempting siren of “influence,” to trying to cultivate a persuasive power that inheres not so much in the truth of ideas but in the power of personality or “appearance.” What a horrible insatiable monster that kind of pride and self-seeking is. How vain to monitor twitter followers, web statistics, and anything else that suggests “influence.” And what ruthless task masters are the expectations of others who think you have influence and want to borrow some or sway your use of it. It’s a trap, I’m telling you!

Far better to recognize Jesus Christ is the only compelling power and influence in the world, in whose hands the hearts of kings are turned, by whose word the universe stands, and before whose throne every knee will bow and confess. Influence? Only if it makes Jesus known and brings men under his light and easy yoke of love. Everything else is a mist that’ll soon evaporate in the radiance of His glorious rule!

I wonder if others observe a phenomenon I think I see in many churches: people clustering with others in their generation? The 20-somethings spend their time with other 20-somethings talking about 20-something concerns. The young families hang out with other young families, hosting play dates and trading parenting tips. It seems to me that 60-somethings tend to flock together with other 60-somethings. There are notable exceptions, of course. There are those older men and women who become pillars in the church by investing in younger men and women. And there are the younger persons who seek to serve young families or older members. But by and large, people seem to spend the bulk of their spiritual energy and time with other people in the same stage of life.

There’s much that can be said about this–its scope, causes, benefits, and so on. But one thing that strikes me today is that segregating into enclaves based on age and life-stage tends to weaken the future of the church. What do I mean?

Well, it’s clear that God intends the faith to be taught and passed down from the older generation to the younger. Paul’s words to Titus are perhaps the most well-known words to this effect:

You must teach what is in accord with sound doctrine. Teach the older men to be temperate, worthy of respect, self-controlled, and sound in faith, in love and in endurance. Teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. Similarly, encourage the young men to be self-controlled. In everything set them an example by doing what is good. In your teaching show integrity, seriousness and soundness of speech that cannot be condemned, so that those who oppose you may be ashamed because they have nothing bad to say about us. (Titus 2:1-8)

But what happens when this vision of body life doesn’t materialize in a widespread way because we cluster into our demographic groups?

Well, 20-somethings tend to learn mostly from other 20-somethings. They’re cut off from the perspective and wisdom gained by being a generation or two older. They develop 20-something solutions to what will likely either be 40-something foundations or problems. They make courtship and dating decisions that look really cool at 20 but turn out to be short-sighted at 40. They make purchasing decisions that seem life-giving at 20 that turn into major burdens at 40. I think I see lots of 20-somethings (guys in particular) running the race without self-control, self-control that older members could and should help them gain.

Meanwhile, the 40-somethings work through marriage, parenting, and career issues without the longer view of 60-somethings. As quiet as it’s kept, knowing how to be a husband, wife or parent doesn’t come to us by osmosis. We have to be taught how to love a wife, how to respect a husband, and how to raise our children in the fear and admonition of the Lord. And sometimes those callings get as nuts-and-bolts as learning how to cook, how to discipline, how to argue and how to make up. During this period, our 30- and 40-somethings develop or continue habits that either help or hurt. Sadly, many will do so without the wisdom that comes from more seasoned experience. Consequently, they take the same lumps others could have helped them avoid. Or they “make it” through that middle-age season via a series of trial and error experiments.

This, of course, affects the temperature and vitality of the church. We have congregations of people “trying to figure life out” largely alone. Great amounts of time get invested in helping young people negotiate the choppy waters of early adulthood, middle-aged people work their way through challenges of marriage, family, and career, and older persons figure out meaning late in life sometimes without much-loved spouses, declining  health, and shrinking numbers of living peers. Pastors and elders mistakenly think they must become masters of each stage of life, counsel people through every opportunity and difficulty, and be there in every circumstance. But, actually, the Bible instructs the pastor to teach the congregation to be there for one another and does so by tying the generations together so that the built-in expertise of old age gets leveraged for every younger generation. It’s a beautiful thing.

In this way older members of the local church become the front line of discipleship and care. They brighten the future of the church by teaching younger members how to live out the faith, how to avoid mistakes, seize opportunities, practically apply the word of God to their lived realities. As that store of wisdom, maturity, and experience gets passed on and received with humility, the spiritual, emotional, and volitional maturity of the congregation rises considerably. The more mature the young persons in the body the brighter the future of the church. We sometimes act as if older members have no role vital to the future of the church. But actually they are absolutely essential, indispensable.

I spent most of the day yesterday trying to get back in the swing of things. The week before was “off” in various ways. But yesterday was filled with grace, including a couple new books in the mail. I’ve not read these books, but I’m looking forward to dipping into them in time. If you’ve read them, please feel free to leave a comment or link to a review elsewhere.

Supernatural Living for Natural People: The Life Giving Message of Romans 8 by Raymond C. Ortlund, Jr. (Christian Focus). I like the good folks at Christian Focus and I like Ray Ortlund. Seeing them together is like seeing two of your really good friends meet for the first time. This is actually a new edition of a book first published in 2000. Here’s the publisher’s description:

Romans eight is a favourite of many Christians as it contains verse after verse of pure spiritual gold. It opens up to us peace with God, the ministries of the Spirit, the urgency of personal reformation, the glory of our eternal inheritance, the power of God’s goodness at work in our daily lives and the invincibility of his loving intentions toward us. In this thoughtful and perceptive book, Ray Ortlund delves deeply into Romans 8, our appreciation and understanding of the chapter will be thoroughly revitalised.

The book boasts endorsements from Sam Storms, Tom Schreiner, Mark Johnston, Tom Nettles, Eric Alexander and others.

Why Cities Matter: To God,the Culture, and the Church by Stephen T. Um and Justin Buzzard (Crossway). Stephen and I serve together on the council of The Gospel Coalition. I’ve known Justin for a number of years, probably first meeting at a Worship God event or something. Good brothers both. No doubt you’ve heard a lot about the importance of cities in gospel ministry and cultural engagement. I’ll confess to being skeptical or partisan. I live on an island without cities after all. But I suspect Um and Buzzard will be thoughtful and penetrating in making the case. I look forward to hearing them out and perhaps being persuaded. Here’s the publisher’s description:

We live in a unique moment in history.

Right now, more people live in urban centers than ever before. This means that we have an unprecedented opportunity to influence the majority of the world through the church in the city.

Helping us to make the most of this moment, urban pastors Justin Buzzard and Stephen Um lay out a compelling vision for cultural engagement and church planting in our world’s cities.

If you’re looking for motivation to maintain a commitment to the city or for guidance as you consider going all in, this book provides a comprehensive analysis of urban life that informs, instructs, inspires, and answers questions including:

• Why cities are so important
• What the Bible says about cities
• How to overcome common issues and develop a plan for living missionally in the city

Instead of retreating from or taking from our cities, here is a call to make the cities our home, to take good care of them, and to participate in God’s kingdom-building work in the urban centers of our world.

Take up and read! Let me (and others) know what you think. Comments are open.

I don’t know that I’ve ever heard preachers talk about their “slumps.” Maybe I’m the only one who feels he has been in one. Or, maybe there are some things we don’t talk about at polite preacher dinner parties. I don’t know, but it sure seems like it would be healthy for preachers to admit that sometimes we’re “off our game.” I don’t mean we preach one dud. I mean we’ve now had a series of lackluster at bats. In fact, not only have the sermons been sub-par, our hearts haven’t been feeling what we’ve been preaching. We know the words, hear them, believe them (usually), but we’re not moved by it.

And Sunday keeps coming. What to do?

I’m no expert on either preaching or getting out of slumps. But doodling tonight, I thought of six things that might help.

1. Get on Your Knees

So much of preaching ineffectiveness actually begins in the prayer closet. The preacher looks up and finds they’ve either had little motivation to pray, or their prayers have become rote, or the urgent  has bullied prayer from their calendar. In either case, the remedy isn’t technique in the pulpit. It’s humility in the prayer closet. Preachers can be guilty of the “practical atheism” or prayerlessness. I know I’ve sensed the difference in my own heart and the apparent fruitfulness of my preaching when I’ve been faithful in private communion with God.

2. Get Perspective

Sometimes the slump comes from over-thinking. Like the shooter who once lofted three-pointers without a conscience but now hesitates. He’s thinking twice about whether to take the shot. The preacher can think too much about that exegetical point, illustration, or application. We can over-think delivery or think too much about our audience, or place too much confidence in the sermon. When that happens perhaps we need to remember a couple basic things. We preach for an audience of One. The word does the work. The Lord buries the worker and carries on the work. We need to get our minds fixed on the omnipotent God who frames the heavens with a two-letter word. We need to rely more heavily on God himself. He will cause His word to accomplish His purposes.

3. Get Help

Sometimes a preacher just needs help. Ever wonder why professional golfers or professional basketball players have coaches? Sometimes bad habits develop. There’s a hitch in the swing, or the elbow needs to be perpendicular to the floor on that free throw. But we can’t see it. We need someone else to help us. We shouldn’t be too proud to get such help–whether it’s asking a fellow pastor to listen to a few sermons, or conducting sermon reviews with staff, or taking up a good read on preaching. From time to time, preaching slumps are broken with a little impartial and loving influence from the outside. We shouldn’t be afraid to get it.

4. Get Over Yourself

This is a close cousin to #2 above. Where #2 involves getting a proper perspective on God, this requires getting a proper perspective on ourselves as men and preachers. If there’s one thing I know about preaching and preachers it’s that preaching is a hothouse for pride and preachers are often terribly insecure. Our heads swell and we think we’re “good” or even “great” preachers after a couple sermons the Lord seems to bless. We can so easily forget to ascribe glory to God when He takes our otherwise lifeless and uninspired words and makes them into a meal and nourishment for our people. Conversely, a “bad” sermon or an “okay” sermon that failed to conjure praise can leave a preacher careening toward doubt and self-pity. In either case, we simply need to get over self. We need the flesh to be crucified afresh with Christ. We need a conscious strategy for forgetting ourselves, “hiding behind the cross,” and embracing our nothingness. If we could kill the tendency to bolster our sagging self-image and ego needs through the pulpit we would find ourselves blissfully free of pride-induced slumps.

5. Get Rest

So much of our spiritual life depends on adequate rest as an act of faith. There’s a great difference between forcing yourself to sleep and resting in the Lord. The regular cycle of pastoral ministry necessitates adequate times of respite. This is all the more critical if the people-intensive nature of pastoral ministry and preaching feels like a heavy tax. Not every preacher is an introvert. Those who aren’t need regular retreats in their routine. We all do. So it’s important to monitor your schedule, your energy levels, and your recreation (in the old sense of that word). Energy and rest affect preaching. If we rest before we’re depleted we may find our slumps less frequent and less deep.

6. Get on with It

The slumping shooter has to keep shooting. The slumping golfer has to keep swinging. The slumping quarterback has to keep throwing. Likewise, the slumping preacher has to keep preaching. It may do him good to get away for a season of refreshment. But eventually he’ll have to climb the stairs to the sacred desk again and preach. That’s what he does. And there’s no way around a slump, only through it. So, we need to recommit ourselves to doing our text work, praying, reading, writing, praying, and then preaching with our entire selves. Leave it all in the people’s ears and tee it up again next Sunday. Gardner Taylor once called preaching “sweet torture.” And so it is. It can be a torturous calling. But to the called it’s a sweet and holy privilege.

Questions: Have you ever had a preaching slump? Do you think you’ve ever seen your pastor in a preaching slump? What do you do [or your pastor do] to get out of preaching slumps?

“Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.” (2 Cor. 11:28)

That’s how the apostle Paul capped off a long list of afflictions suffered in service to Christ. He spoke of his hard work, imprisonments, floggings, exposure to death, stonings, shipwrecks, natural disasters, bandits, betrayals, sleeplessness, hunger and thirst, and physical need. That’s a partial listing of the “everything else.” Yet, there’s a “besides” that’s always intrigued me. Besides, in addition to, over and beyond, on top of the many sacrifices and afflictions, there’s one more thing. We get the sense that this one thing stresses Paul more than all the other things. We have the sense that this additional thing nearly breaks Paul. Perhaps it’s his wording. Or perhaps it’s the placement at the end of the list. Or, maybe it’s the opening clause, “Besides everything else,” that sets this apart to the reader. Maybe it’s all three.

What is it?

Paul writes, “I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.” We might say the great apostle was “burdened” for the local churches. He carried that concern or burden for “all the churches”–not just the churches he knew or served. We witness him writing letters to congregations he never visited or saw personally. We read of his concern for churches that were rejecting his ministry and teaching, even questioning his apostolic authority. And we have the privilege of eavesdropping on his love for the churches he nursed like a mother and guided like a father, even if only for a matter of weeks. Wherever Christ’s bride was found or known, Paul cared. “All” magnified his concern.

Moreover, that concern felt to him like “pressure.” It was a vise, gripping and squeezing him. It was a weight, mashing him beneath. It was a kind of cooker, sealing him in and turning the very air around him into pressing heat. The apostle felt like the church was on his shoulders, a responsibility, a calling, an inescapable duty or charge or trust. All the words fit, and they all magnified the concern into a “pressure.”

Finally, Paul “faced” this pressure “daily.” He couldn’t avoid it. He wouldn’t shirk it. He played the man and looked into it. And there was no time off, no long weekends, no holidays or vacations as we know them. Daily. That’s how often he felt the pressure of his loving concern for all the churches. Waking, traveling, eating, praying, preaching, visiting, teaching, suffering–each and very single day.

We all want a pastor like Paul. So we tell ourselves. But I wonder if we all have a good idea of how heavy with care Paul’s heart must have been? If we have a pastor like this, will we stop long enough to consider how much pressure he endures every day in order to be “a pastor like this”? Will we consider how many things turn his care and concern into pressure and heartache?

The most difficult part of pastoral ministry is keeping a caring heart. The caring heart makes the pastor, and the caring heart nearly kills the pastor. He wouldn’t have it any other way, like Paul. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t a thousand deaths, weeping nights, deprivations, and afflictions.

It breaks his heart to see people leave the church. It doesn’t really matter why they leave, and it only helps some if they leave well. The leaving is a breaking and he feels the pressure of it if he is concerned for the church.

It breaks his heart to see saints taken in sin. “Big” sin. “Small” sin. He feels as if he’s watching a grotesque monster devour his babies. And when repentance is not forthcoming he aches all the more.

It breaks his heart to watch spouses tear their covenant in two. Few things can feel so dis-empowering. Few things can make a pastor feel his inadequacy like watching a dear couple do violence to matrimonial promises and affection.

It breaks his heart to hear the people embrace error. He wants them to feed on the pure milk of the word until they can eat the good meat. He knows health comes with truth. So he feels a certain horror at the thought that any of the people in his charge might be given over to soul-piercing and destructive lies.

It breaks his heart to discover dissensions and strife. He’s the leader of a family. He knows the blessing of peace, unity and love. His heart rips even as the people tear apart.

It breaks his heart to receive unfair criticism. Part of him doesn’t mind it at all. He’ll gladly bear the reproach. But the other part, the part that wants to be liked, the part that rightly wants the people’s affection, the part that’s trying to please the Lord, can hardly endure disparagement. His heart is wide open to the people and he wants their hearts to be open in love to him.

It breaks his heart to have his family judged or attacked. He’d rather be drawn and quartered himself than to watch the woman he loves endure harsh judgment, misrepresentation or unrighteous standards. He rather lose his own life than to lose his children from the church because they couldn’t face the daily pressure of living in a congregational fish bowl, unable to be themselves, unable to find grace all the other children receive.

It breaks his heart to miss an appointment or to fail to “be there.” He entered the ministry to care for people. He knows he’s not Jesus. He knows he can’t be everywhere. But that doesn’t stop him from mourning when he experiences that limitation. He should have been in the hospital room. He should have been at the deathbed. He should have responded to the call in the middle of the night. He couldn’t. Might’ve been for a good reason, but he still feels the heaviness of heart.

It breaks his heart to discover himself choosing to care less in order to not hurt.

Pastoral heartbreak is in direct proportion to pastoral heart. The more the pastor cares for the people the more heartbreaking is the daily pressure of concern for the church.

But he doesn’t quit. He doesn’t shrink back–or at least he tries not to. He  counts it all joy. He discovers what Stephen Chadwick discovered: ”It is a wonder what God can do with a broken heart, if He gets all the pieces” (HT: @NancyDeMoss). So he offers to God the Father all the pieces of his broken heart so that a wonder might be performed both in his life and the church. He, like Paul, learns to “boast all the more gladly about his weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on him. That is why, for Christ’s sake, he delights in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:9-10). That’s how a heavy heart becomes a happy heart in pastoral ministry.

Brothers, let us embrace our heavy hearts, boast in our weaknesses, and look to Christ for power. “When the Chief Shepherd appears you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away” (1 Pet. 5:4).

Saints, let us receive our shepherds’ care, submit to their leadership, and make their labor a joy. His lighter heart will mean your higher happiness.