Late last year, I wrote a blog post titled “Your Podcast Is Not Your Pastor,” prompted by this comment from Russell Moore:

1. Bob Kelley – Pastor Passionately

Until I was nine, my family belonged to a prominent independent Baptist church. Bro. Kelley was our preacher. When I trusted Christ on a Saturday morning, Bob Kelley was the man I called to tell the good news. I still remember his excitement on the other end of the line. A few years later, he baptized me.

The big impression he left on me was that what we’re doing here is important. It’s life or death. It’s serious business. Not all pastors express passion the same way as Bob Kelley. But all of us should be passionate. And that’s something Bob Kelley got right. (Click here for some of his “lessons learned from a gospel preacher.”)

2. Ken Polk – Pastor Textually 

From the time I was nine years old until I left for Romania at 19, I belonged to a church where the pastor preached expository sermons every week. We started as a church plant meeting in a high school cafeteria and over the next decade grew into a church of 1,000. Careful, expository, text-focused sermons were part of that journey. I remember the first (and second) time Bro. Ken took us through the Gospel of John. I still remember his 1 Corinthians series and his sermons from Judges.

I cannot calculate the formative influence that Bro. Ken’s preaching had on my life. For 10 years, I listened to Bro. Ken preach. Ten years. Fifty weeks a year. Two times a week. That’s 1,000 sermons.

It’s no wonder that today I approach the text in much the same manner that he does, looking to discover what’s there, not invent what’s not. I see Christ in the Scriptures because he showed me Christ was there. I respect the Bible because of the way he always made the purpose of the text more prominent than the personality of the messenger. From Bro. Ken, I learned that there is no substitute for pastoring textually. The Scriptures are at the heart of pastoral ministry.

3. Rick Iglesias – Pastor Personally

The years I spent doing mission work in Romania were formative in so many ways. Yet there was a lingering loneliness that set in from time to time, the sense that you don’t quite fit in anywhere anymore – whether back home or on the field.

Pastor Rick visited our campus once or twice a year and led retreats for my college class up in the mountains. He impacted us because he cared about us. He wrote e-mails. He called from time to time. Always seeking to be an encouragement.

4. Ted Traylor – Pastor Missionally

Another pastor who made an impact on me during my Romania years was Ted Traylor. I was in my first year of studying theology when Bro. Ted first visited the campus. Our group benefited from several classes with him.

I remember thinking then, What kind of pastor is this who, even though he has a large church to tend to in the States, would come all the way to Romania to pour himself into young Romanian seminary students? Every year after that, Bro. Ted returned. In 2005, he spoke at my class’s graduation.

Bro. Ted is also passionately devoted to fulfilling the Great Commission in his own city. He’s both a local and global kind of guy. And he has provided a wonderful example of a pastor with Great Commission focus.

5. Florin Trifan – Pastor Prayerfully

My father-in-law recently retired from pastoring two village churches. But during my time in Romania, I saw him in action.

If there’s any word that would characterize Florin Trifan’s approach to pastoring, it would be prayerful. Bro. Trifan is a constant pray-er. Always stopping to thank the Lord for His blessings. Always asking for the Spirit’s power to do God’s will. We pray together over Skype every week even now.

6. Kevin Minchey – Pastor Caringly

Along with Ken Polk, Kevin Minchey has had the biggest influence on my life. Kevin is a mentor at heart.

When I was on staff with him, Kevin didn’t only model care and concern for others, he instructed me on how to do the same. For years, I watched Kevin shepherd people, love on them when they were down, rebuke them when necessary, and cast a vision for the kingdom that pushed all of us out of our comfort zones.

For me personally, I was able to see up close the labor of love it is when a pastor chooses willingly to share others’ burdens and to walk through crises and trials. The pastoral wisdom, grace, and care on display in his life and ministry have taught me things that books could never capture. I’m thankful he cared for me. And I hope to shepherd others the same way.

What about you? Who are some pastors who have influenced your life and ministry?

Should churches educate their singles on how to use contraception?

Jenell Paris thinks so. In an opinion piece at Christianity Today called “Both Chastity and Contraception: A Sacred Compromise” (responding to this article), she recommends that churches “uphold premarital chastity as the biblical ideal, and encourage and educate unmarried singles about the effective use of contraception.” In other words, we ought to “educate” unmarried singles about contraceptives without “affirming” their use.

The sense of revulsion you feel when reading this imaginary scenario is probably rooted in your God-given, biblically informed, gospel-sanctified idealism regarding the exclusive nature of the marriage bed. And as Christians who believe in the good gift of sexual expression within the beautiful confines of the marriage covenant, we ought to be repulsed by any proposal that cheapens, threatens, or denigrates that ideal.

Telling singles they ought to turn toward Jesus and contraception is an implicit denial that repentance is integral to the Christian life. It’s like Jesus telling the woman caught in adultery: “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin some more.“

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the response I’d received from my article in Tabletalk - “Not So Fast” - which basically encourages most people to stay with their congregation during a difficult church situation rather than flee. Based on the notes I’ve gotten, some have misunderstood my suggestion not to be hasty in leaving a church (hence the title “Not So Fast”) as a hard, fast rule against ever leaving a church, no matter what happens.

Then Jonathan helpfully points out some examples of abusive leadership:

How do you recognize abusive leadership? Paul requires two witnesses for a charge to be leveled against an elder (1 Tim. 5:19), probably because he knows that leaders will be charged with infelicities more than others, often unfairly. That said, abusive churches and Christian leaders characteristically

• Make dogmatic prescriptions in places where Scripture is silent.
• Rely on intelligence, humor, charm, guilt, emotions, or threats rather than on God’s Word and prayer (see Acts 6:4).
• Play favorites.
• Punish those who disagree.
• Employ extreme forms of communication (tempers, silent treatment).
• Recommend courses of action that always, somehow, improve the leader’s own situation, even at the expense of others.
• Speak often and quickly.
• Seldom do good deeds in secret.
• Seldom encourage.
• Seldom give the benefit of the doubt.
• Emphasize outward conformity, rather than repentance of heart.
• Preach, counsel, disciple, and oversee the church with lips that fail to ground everything in what Christ has done in the gospel and to give glory to God.

Every now and then, the reaction I get from an article or blog post takes me by surprise. Whenever you write something, you expect people to respond. If you like the mutual sharpening that takes place in the marketplace of ideas, you enjoy getting feedback, pushback, encouragement, and even criticism.

In the April 2012 issue of TableTalk, I have an article titled “Not So Fast,” in which I encourage people to be extremely cautious about leaving their church fellowship for an easier situation across town. In mid-March, as the printed version began arriving in people’s mailboxes, I started receiving letters in the mail and e-mails from readers.

Jim and Sandra were longtime members at Christ Church. They gave generously — of their time, their talents, and their financial resources. Christ Church was known for being evangelistic and putting a priority on God’s Word. And Jim and Sandra were fulfilled and thriving there.

But the day came when the pastor let Jim and Sandra down. A series of bad decisions critically wounded their confidence in their leader’s wisdom. They were hurt, confused, and disillusioned. They began to toy with the idea of going to one of the other strong churches in town.

When Jim and Sandra (not their real names) asked me about leaving their church, I said, “Not so fast.” Since then, I’ve counseled a number of couples and individuals in similar situations. And whenever the issue at hand does not concern biblical fidelity or theological compromise, I usually give the same caution about leaving a church: “Not so fast.”

In a culture of consumerist expectations and values, even people in strong, Word-centered, gospel-proclaiming churches can think of church loyalty in terms of payment and receipt. “We pay our dues and expect a certain return” is the unspoken mindset. So when things get difficult, reasons to leave begin multiplying: “I’m not being fed here.” “I’m not on the same page with the leadership right now.” “I’m not being useful here. Perhaps I could serve better if I were somewhere else.” The list goes on.

It’s true that there are plenty of Christians whose lives don’t resemble Christ’s. There are pastors who abuse their authority or lead poorly. There are churches that implement changes quickly, without the consent of key leaders, which then breeds disunity and quarrels. Leadership fumbles, personality conflicts, relationship breaches — they all exist in the church. That’s why, for many churchgoers, the temptation is strong to seek refuge and peace in another church across town.

But what if the choice to leave a difficult church situation will actually short-circuit your formation as a Christian? What if your desire for a better congregation will stunt your spiritual growth? Does God use uncomfortable church situations as part of His process of sanctifying us?

Continue reading…

I know a pastor who thinks militant Calvinism is about to overtake the Southern Baptist Convention and lead to multiple church splits. In personal conversation, he is constantly going back to the dangers of Reformed theology and the damage it is doing across the evangelical world.

I have a friend on the other side of the spectrum – a truly Reformed guy convinced that the contemporary church movement, particularly its Purpose-Driven manifestation, is man-centered, God-dishonoring and infecting evangelicalism all over the place, leaving us powerless for mission and divided in our churches. Whenever I talk with him, he is constantly railing against church growth and numbers-obsessed pastors who only want to build monuments to themselves.

I have another friend who has a visceral reaction whenever someone is expressive in worship. He talks often about how people are just showing off. Their enthusiasm isn’t real. If it gets out of hand, it will cause problems.

Do you know these types? Maybe it’s not Calvinism or church growth or charismatic expression but something else. The common thread you find is that they are almost obsessive in their critique of a movement, theological persuasion, or church practice they think is doing damage to the kingdom of God.

For the anti-Calvinist pastor, it was a church he labored over for many years. When he moved to another city, the church called a Reformed pastor who immediately began pushing a theological agenda that surprised and startled the congregation. A heated battle took place, and the church went through a messy split. The former pastor felt like much of the work he had done was obliterated by his Calvinistic successor.

For the anti-Purpose-Driven guy, it was a church he belonged to for many years. When a new pastor came in and began changing the direction of the church to become primarily focused on seekers, my friend felt increasingly uncomfortable. The new pastor downplayed doctrine and theology, leaving a number of church members feeling marginalized and antiquated. My friend’s concerns were shoved aside and ignored. Eventually, they had a painful parting with the church, and the pastor dismissed them as being more focused on theology than evangelism.

For the anti-charismatic guy, it was a church split that took place as a result of extreme charismatic expression. The wrangling and politics and behind-the-scenes infighting that was covered up by talk of “God moving” and “revival breaking out” causes him to resist any talk of that sort, even if it is perfectly biblical.

In these and other cases, you notice there’s usually a painful story that serves as the backdrop for their current crusade. And you can probably think of similar examples yourself. These guys may be at different points on the theological spectrum, but they are united by their similar story: bad leadership, painful parting, heartbreaking results – now leading to a passionate crusade.

No doubt there are angry, militant Calvinists who have split churches over hills not worth dying on. No doubt there are Purpose-Driven guys who have burned people as they made changes in churches. No doubt there are excesses in charismatic expression and situations of pastoral abuse of authority. While most Christians understand that you can’t judge a whole movement or theology based on these sad situations, the people in the thick of a controversy can and do. 

I’ve found that whenever I come across “issue Christians” – whether they be Calvinist, anti-Calvinist, church growth, anti-church growth, Dispensationalist, or charismatic – I ought to hear their story.

What is it about seeing a noted Calvinist author quoted in the bulletin that bugs you so much? We had a fierce battle over Calvinism a few years ago, and the church has not recovered.

What is it about raising your hands in worship that bothers you so much? My church split when the pastor led us in a charismatic direction where people were being slain in the Spirit.

Sometimes the crusader just wants to be heard. So let them tell their story. That said, debating the finer points of theology is not the way to go. Debating the strengths and weaknesses of the charismatic worship movement or the man-centered or God-centered nature of Calvinism or church growth isn’t the point. When someone’s been burned, they need a bandage, not an explanation of how the burning takes place.

I’m sorry to hear about the hypocrisy you saw during those worship services. Just goes to show you how messed up the church is, doesn’t it? My heart isn’t always fully engaged in worship either. Another reminder of how badly we’ve fallen and how much we need Jesus!

Don’t try to persuade them to give up the crusade. It’s probably not going to work. And theological crusades can distract us from the mission God has called us to.

Instead, offer to pray with them. Listen to them. Learn from them. Give them guidance if they ask for it. And then challenge the crusader to channel that passion back toward the Great Commission. Encourage them to not let their back story keep them from moving forward.

2. When I pray, am I more likely to pray for God’s judgment on others rather than marvel at God’s amazing grace toward me?

3. Am I overly critical toward others while I give myself a pass or an excuse and justify my own sin?

5. Do I have people whom I allow to hold me accountable for my sin and unforgiving heart?

9. When others see how I deal with people, will they think God is mighty to save or that God would never forgive them and there is no hope for forgiveness?

10. Do I receive correction humbly?

11. Before I correct others, do I spend time in God’s Word and prayer asking the Holy Spirit to expose my sin so that I might repent?

Evangelicals appear to be preoccupied with sex. One megachurch pastor and his wife have written a book challenging married couples to a “sexperiment” of making love for seven days straight. Mark Driscoll’s controversial new book on marriage contains a chapter titled “Can We?” in which he and his wife answer questions they are typically asked in counseling situations, questions related to different sex acts.

Instead, I want to offer a pastoral look at the underlying issues that prompt these questions and encourage pastors to go for the heart, not merely the surface, when approached with questions of this kind.

1. Recognize the legitimacy of the questions.

Therefore, we cannot and should not chastise new converts for asking specific questions regarding sexual activity. Paul did not chastise the Corinthians for asking about meat offered to idols. We should expect that new believers (and old believers, for that matter) who have at some time or another been hooked on pornography will have a view of sexuality formed (or better said, deformed) by what they have witnessed. There are specific, graphic kinds of questions that arise in this cultural context, and a pastor who seeks to be a missionary in a pornified world ought to expect the uncomfortable questions.

2. Go beyond the surface of the questions.

Many pastors recognize the legitimacy of the questions but don’t go any further. They offer a few reflections about mutual consent, relegate the decisions to the couple in the privacy of the marriage bed, and stress the principle that all (or most) acts are permissible.

Imagine this scenario. A wealthy couple in your congregation comes to you for advice regarding some purchases they’d like to make. “Would it be okay, pastor, for us to buy a bigger TV for our living room? We already tithe and give to missions, but our current TV is a little small.” Most pastors will appeal to the freedom they have in Christ to make the purchase and enjoy the fruits of their labor.

But the conversation continues. Their next question is about purchasing two more TVs the same size. Then the husband asks about getting a fourth car, although there are only three drivers in the family. And the wife says something like, “Well, our neighbors have four.” Next thing you know, they are pelting you with questions about making this purchase or that. And suddenly, you realize that the way you might answer the first question about an individual purchase is not the way you should approach all these questions. The stream of questions reveals a problem with materialism.

Or imagine this scenario: A young man who appears to be in great shape physically asks you about the appropriateness of eating fast food. You explain that in moderation one can enjoy a Big Mac. But he then asks what moderation consists of. Can he eat fast food three or four times a week? If he works out, can he eat all the junk food he wants? And is it wrong to plan each day around one’s meals? Suddenly, you realize that your initial answer to a question about fast food is not the way you should answer all his other questions about food. This guy is obsessed with food, and so now your tactic changes. You begin to ask him questions in order to discern his heart and get to the underlying issues.

The same thing is true of sex. You may answer one question in a particular way, but if a husband or wife is constantly asking, “Can we? Can we?” there are probably bigger issues under the surface. There are presuppositions regarding sex, satisfaction, reproduction, intimacy, neediness, lust, and servanthood that may need to be challenged by the gospel.

If we only recognize the legitimacy of the questions but never go beyond the surface of those questions, we are missing an opportunity to counter our culture’s obsession with sex. It’s not enough to stress our freedom in Christ and grant carte blanche permission for couples to mutually consent to an assortment of sexual activities. Instead, we ought to use the questions as an opportunity to challenge our culture’s warped view of sex and to offer something of beauty in response.

The reason our world is so enamored with sex (evangelicals included) is not because it is so satisfying but because for many it is so unsatisfying. We know there is something cosmic going on when a husband and wife come together. We know there is supposed to be something sacred about the act of marriage. But so many in our society are missing it. And too many times, evangelicals respond to sexual disillusionment by turning our focus toward the act and not the marriage, and thus we fail to lift up something substantive. We offer a Christianized version of RedBook magazine’s “tips to spice up your love life.”

Perhaps it’s time that we shift focus from “Can we?” and “Can’t we?” to a better question: “Why do you ask?” The conversation following that question will surely be more pastorally fruitful in discerning the heart than if we focus merely on the do’s and don’ts.

C.S. Lewis:

There is all the difference in the world between forgiving and excusing. Forgiveness says “Yes, you have done this thing, but I accept your apology; I will never hold it against you and everything between us two will be exactly as it was before.”But excusing says “I see that you couldn’t help it or didn’t mean it; you weren’t really to blame.” If one was not really to blame then there is nothing to forgive. In that sense forgiveness and excusing are almost opposites.

Of course, in dozens of cases, either between God and man, or between one man and another, there may be a mixture of the two. Part of what seemed at first to be the sins turns out to be really nobody’s fault and is excused; the bit that is left over is forgiven. If you had a perfect excuse, you would not need forgiveness; if the whole of your action needs forgiveness, then there was no excuse for it. But the trouble is that what we call “asking God’s forgiveness” very often really consists in asking God to accept our excuses.

What leads us into this mistake is the fact that there usually is some amount of excuse, some “extenuating circumstances.” We are so very anxious to point these out to God (and to ourselves) that we are apt to forget the really important thing; that is, the bit left over, the bit which the excuses don’t cover, the bit which is inexcusable but not, thank God, unforgivable. And if we forget this, we shall go away imagining that we have repented and been forgiven when all that has really happened is that we have satisfied ourselves with our own excuses. They may be very bad excuses; we are all too easily satisfied about ourselves.

There are two remedies for this danger. One is to remember that God knows all the real excuses very much better than we do. If there are real “extenuating circumstances” there is no fear that he will overlook them. Often he must know many excuses that we have never thought of, and therefore, humble souls will, after death, have the delightful surprise of discovering that on certain occasions they sinned much less than they had thought. All the real excusing he will do.

What we have got to take to him is the inexcusable bit, the sin. We are only wasting time by talking about all the parts which can (we think) be excused. When you go to a doctor you show him the bit of you that is wrong – say, a broken arm. It would be a mere waste of time to keep on explaining that your legs and eyes and throat are all right. You may be mistaken in thinking so, and anyway, if they are really all right, the doctor will know that.

The second remedy is really and truly to believe in the forgiveness of sins. A great deal of our anxiety to make excuses comes from not really believing in it, from thinking that God will not take us to himself again unless he is satisfied that some sort of case can be made out in our favor. But that would not be forgiveness at all.

Real forgiveness means looking steadily at the sin, the sin that is left over without any excuse, after all allowances have been made, and seeing it in all its horror, dirt, meanness, and malice, and nevertheless being wholly reconciled to the man who has done it. That, and only that, is forgiveness, and that we can always have from God if we ask for it.

- C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, 178-81

I need this reminder from Bob Kellemen’s book, God’s Healing for Life’s Losses: How to Find Hope When You’re Hurting:

When life dashes our dreams and seems to kill our hopes, we must remind ourselves that we’ve read the end of the story. We need to listen like we would to Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story.

Many sports fans, if they can’t watch the big game live, tape it. Then they swear all their friends to secrecy. “Don’t you dare spoil it for me! Don’t tell me who won. I want to watch it and enjoy the thrill of the whole game without knowing the end.”

I guess I’m odd. When I can’t watch the big game live, I tape it, but I watch the end first! I’m a major fan of the Chicago Bulls. Back when Michael Jordan was leading them to six NBA titles, I taped one of the championship games between the Bulls and the Phoenix Suns. First, I watched the end. The Bulls won! Then I rewound the tape and watched the entire game. When the Bulls were behind 17 points, I never panicked. I never threw bricks at the TV.

Normally I would have left the room if they were behind by that much. I would have told my son to call me only if the Bulls tied the game. I couldn’t take watching them struggle. But not this time. I knew the end of the story. So I could handle the ups and downs of the game, knowing the grand result.

Whether or not you agree with my sports-watching philosophy, you can see the benefits we gain from knowing the end of God’s story – the end of our story. We can survive life’s losses and we can even thrive through God’s hope when we remember the end of the story.

We’ve read the end of the story. And we win! God wins!

We’ve read the end of the story.

And we win! God win!

In the end:

• Healing triumphs over losses.
• Hope triumphs over hurt.
• Grace triumphs over works.
• Faith triumphs over doubt.
• Hope triumphs over despair.
• Love triumphs over separation.
• Life triumphs over death.
• Good triumphs over evil.
• God triumphs over the devil.

In counseling, I often come across two kinds of people:

Some people think they are true Christians, but are probably not. They need a dose of gospel confrontation.

Other people doubt they are true Christians, but probably are. They need a dose of gospel comfort.

Sam’s Story

Sam is a twenty-something who is upset with God because of a recent downturn in his business profits. He waltzes into my office, mad at God and (by extension) the church.

I ask a few diagnostic questions, and I quickly discover that Sam is living with his girlfriend. He rarely attends church. His biggest goal in life is to make a lot of money.

In short, Sam is not living the life of a Christian. I fail to see any genuine fruit of repentance. The more I talk to him, the more I realize that he is not concerned about his lack of commitment to the Christian community; neither is he upset about his misplaced priorities or sexual immorality.

I ask him some questions about his spiritual condition. He tells me about a decision he made at a youth event ten years ago. He raised his hand, filled out a card, and got his “ticket to heaven.”  He insists that he is truly saved because of this experience.

What does Sam need? The gospel.

Sam needs to be confronted with the lack of fruit in his life. He needs to see his life compared to the holiness of God. He needs to hear that true salvation always leads to good works. The absence of fruit in his life indicates that Sam is not a true believer.

I urge him to examine his own life to see if he is in the faith. I urge him to see himself in light of God’s holiness. I urge him to repent of his sins and trust in Jesus. By pointing to the fruitlessness of his life, I confront him with the gospel truth that Jesus Christ transforms us into new people. Sam is comfortable in his sin and needs to be confronted with the gospel.

Jenny’s Story

Jenny is a twenty-something who meets me and my wife in my office. She has a sweet spirit and a naturally introspective personality. She tells us that she feels guilty about the sins she commits daily. She weeps about the ways she fails the Lord. Her constant struggles against sin are causing her to doubt if she is saved.

I ask a few diagnostic questions and discover that Jenny is very active in church. She sincerely wants to please the Lord. She is very aware of her sinfulness, and that is why she fears she doesn’t have enough fruit to show for her salvation. Looking at her life, I see fruits of repentance and faith everywhere.

What does Jenny need? The gospel.

But I take a different road with Jenny than I did with Sam. I challenged Sam to examine his life and see that the fruit of his life indicates a diseased tree. He needed to repent and trust in Jesus. I confronted Sam with the gospel that leads to a transformation of life.

But with Jenny, the last thing I want to do is say, “Look at your life! It’s obvious you love the Lord. You do good works. You repent of your sins.” Once I tell Jenny to examine her life, I’ve condemned her. “I haven’t done enough to prove my salvation,” she will say.

Instead, I take her back to the truth of Christ’s righteousness covering our sinfulness. Look to Christ, I tell her. Remember that your salvation is not dependent on you, not even on the works you do after you are a Christian. Christ is your redeemer. Christ is your righteousness. Jenny is conflicted about her salvation and needs to be comforted. So I point her to Christ.

Confrontation and Comfort

We all need the gospel.

Some people think they are Christians because of a one-time decision that never bore genuine fruit in life. They need gospel confrontation: the gospel changes us.

Others doubt they are Christians because they recognize their sinfulness. They need gospel comfort: the gospel saves us.

The gospel should comfort the conflicted and confront the comfortable.