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By In Church

Should Churches Meet During COVID-19?” Part 3

Read Part 1, Part 2

By Joel Nelson, Guest Series

Christian Liberty and Witness to the World

Scripture teaches that even as much as something may be permitted within the context of Christian liberty, it is not always wise or profitable to exercise that liberty. Galatians 5:13-14 teaches, “…Do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”  And four times in Paul’s first epistle to the Corinthians he writes, “All things are lawful for me, but…” Even though permitted, there are times where it does not build up, edify, or show love to a neighbor by exercising a particular freedom. Is the freedom to conduct civil disobedience in this case, by worshiping as a physical, corporate body (as opposed to scattered individuals and families joined only in a spiritual or technological sense) a situation where it is permissible, but not profitable due to the potential negative witness or “stumbling block” to nonchristian neighbors and passers-by?

To properly address this concern, we must begin with what is clear and then progress to interpreting wisely the unclear. The clear command is not to neglect to meet together, per Hebrews 10:24-25: “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” This command was given in the face of war and impending distress. And this is not an isolated, one-off command that is only applicable in this context, but rather the instruction throughout the Old and New Testament to the covenant community.[i]

“Death Has Lost Its Sting”

Can these commands to meet together as a community be set aside for an undefined, but limited time, such as for the plague or a pandemic or even a viral outbreak with an all-ages case fatality rate far under one percent? There are arguably instances where there would be wisdom in considering the option of temporarily doing so— as long as all ministry activities were not suspended. The historical record of the church, including the writings of many of the Protestant Reformers, does give precedent for this. But these measures should be temporary, with a clear end, and reserved for truly dangerous circumstances. It is one thing to consider whether to “go aside” for a time to avoid waves of plague with a death rate of over 30%, but another matter entirely to also do so for recurring seasonal viruses. As previously noted in this essay, during severe plagues many pastors, bishops, deacons, and even Christian laypeople did not go into hiding but rather displayed remarkable courage in the face of death. The basis for such courage is the resurrection of Jesus Christ: because of the resurrection, death has lost its sting (1 Cor. 15:55). As the apostle Paul wrote, if there is no resurrection— if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain, our faith is in vain— then we are of all people most to be pitied (1 Cor. 15:14-19). But since Christ has in fact been raised from the dead as the firstfruits, then the eventual destruction of death is certain (1 Cor. 15:20-26). It is this confidence that has given Christians the courage to face lions, hostile kings, persecution, plagues, and more throughout history. Death is not the ultimate end for those who belong to Christ.

As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, Jesus “must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:25-26). The Biblical record is clear that the resurrected Christ has overcome death and will destroy death, and Christians have the confidence that this will happen. But modern societies do not have the confidence that this will happen. Kimbell Kornu has noted that modern medicine is thus attempting to overcome death by the scientific method, by exalting man’s domination over nature until man himself becomes the final object of dominion (Theopolis Conversations, May 2020). Exhibiting this lack of confidence, when reminded of the risk of death, of man’s fragility, even kings and rulers cower and hide. In the face of this fear, many of mankind’s terrified responses end up resembling little more than pagan rituals, technologically-advanced versions of rain dances until rain finally falls, self-flagellation until the pestilence ends, sacrificing the weakest so that victory over an invading tribe may be won, or wearing talisman objects until the harvest is safely brought in. The viral outbreak of 2020 has revealed the primal terrors of an unconverted world, whose technological and scientific advances were supposed to be its lord and savior but whose gods failed. It is as C.S. Lewis warned: each new power won by man is a power over man as well. Like the Midianite army before Gideon’s 300 men, terror incites men to attack the one thing they still have some semblance of power over: other men.

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By In Culture, Discipleship

Should Churches Meet During COVID-19?”, Part 2

By Joel Nelson, Guest Series

Read Part 1

Purpose of Weekly Church Gatherings

The Body of Christ is called not to imitate the practices of the world, including its darkness and fears, but rather to walk as children of light to try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord, and to take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness but instead expose them (Eph. 5:9-11). The cultural contrast necessitated by walking in the light, and exposing the works of darkness, may be uncomfortable. It may be foreign, even shocking to the sensibilities of those outside the church. This should be expected when two cultures collide. But even so, some may question whether it is prudent or appropriate for this contrast to be exhibited during a time of societal upheaval. Specifically, when the rest of society comes to a standstill and goes indoors out of fear of contagion, should the church situated in today’s world follow society’s lead and also retreat, or should it continue to meet to worship, sing and pray? We will now focus on this question.

For context, the arguments in this essay are predicated upon specific assumptions regarding the church, its union with Christ, and its position in the world.[i] It is assumed throughout this essay that the primary purpose of weekly assembled gatherings of the covenant people of God is worship, not evangelism to nonchristians. Within this context, evangelism takes the form of members of the church body going out from the weekly assembly to the world to witness and evangelize. Thus, the purpose of the assembled gathering is not primarily that of outreach, or attracting those outside to come in. Rather, as Jeff Meyers wrote in The Lord’s Service, it is a family gathering for access to the sanctuary.

In fact, within this assembly of the baptized covenant community, the assembled saints before YHWH’s throne may be so counter-cultural, so unique compared to ordinary society and civic gatherings, that the unbeliever who enters may be “convicted by all, called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed, and so, falling on his face, he will worship God and declare that God is really among you” (1 Cor. 14:24-25). The nature, format, even style of the corporate assembly is modeled on heavenly patterns, not on the whims and styles of contemporary cultural practices (whether legislative assemblies or modes of entertainment such as “TED Talks” or music concerts). It follows, then, that the culture of that assembly will not be congruous to outside cultural practices as well. Peter Leithart notes in The Baptized Body that “the church, as the body of Christ made up of baptized believers, is a separate culture, a separated and holy people” from that of the surrounding world. And as a separate culture, rather than a religious organization within an existing culture, “it has its own internal political and social configuration, its own language, rites, and disciplines.” As such, “what will outsiders think of our worship practices” ought not to be the deciding factor or overarching concern of the local church body.

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By In Church, Culture

“Should Churches Meet During COVID-19?”, Part 1

By Joel Nelson, Guest Series

Introduction

The one-two punch of the global COVID-19 outbreak will result in the year 2020 being remembered as one of the most divisive and life-changing years in at least two generations. Old customs and established procedures slipped away in a matter of days in March 2020, and only eight months later seem almost entirely forgotten by some. Many seem to welcome these developments, viewing the dismantling of what once existed as a blank slate for construction of a new world order. The use of the word “unprecedented” to justify all manner of societal changes and suspension of long-held legal and sociopolitical traditions in the year 2020, is, for lack of a better word, unprecedented. The response of many churches during the last eight months largely mirrors the rest of society: either a complete shutdown and move to “virtual” meetings reliant on electronic devices and high-speed Internet connections, or implementation of measures such as so-called “social distancing” and mandatory imposition of face coverings (the vast majority of which, aside from some medical-grade N95 respirators, have little ability to filter viral particles which are measured in nanometers). The purpose of this essay is not to critique these changes on political or medical grounds, but rather to address the church’s response to government edicts and orders. Specific consideration will be given to the mission and witness of the church, present and historical, and the challenges imposed by government edicts and orders.

Historical Accounts

This essay will first consider several historical accounts of how Christians have responded to prior plagues and pandemics. The historical record reveals many instances in which, during past plagues (with a death toll much greater than that of COVID-19), the church stood out for its resolve to keep going about her mission even as societies effectively shut down. The church historian Eusebius cited a letter written by Dionysius, Bishop of Alexandria, regarding the witness of Christians in contrast to pagans during a fifteen-year plague in the third century:

“Many terrible things happened to us also before this. At first we were driven out, persecuted, and killed, but we kept our festival even then… But the brightest festival of all was kept by the fulfilled martyrs, who feasted in heaven… Most of our brethren showed love and loyalty in not sparing themselves while helping one another, tending to the sick with no thought of danger and gladly departing this life with them after becoming infected with their disease… The best of our own brothers lost their lives in this way—some presbyters, deacons, and laymen—a form of death based on strong faith and piety that seems in every way equal to martyrdom. They would also take up the bodies of the saints, close their eyes, shut their mouths, and carry them on their shoulders. They would embrace them, wash and dress them in burial clothes, and soon receive the same services themselves.  The heathen were the exact opposite. They pushed away those with the first signs of the disease and fled from their dearest. They even threw them half dead into the roads and treated unburied corpses like refuse in hopes of avoiding the plague of death, which, for all their efforts, was difficult to escape.”

In the middle and latter part of the sixth century, plague broke out in the Frankish Empire and had an estimated death toll of nearly 1 in 3 cases. It was significant enough to postpone the Festival of the Presentation in the year A.D. 543 by four months. Subsequent outbreaks continued for more than fifty years. Yet historian R. A. Markus observed that in writings preserved from that time, such as those of Evagrius and Gregory of Tours, there is no evidence of deep spiritual crisis among church leaders. Despite panic, famine, rioting, and political upheaval, there is little evidence that the mission of the church was changed or drastically transformed. Ministry went on and opportunities for evangelism increased.

In A.D. 591, the second year of the papacy of Gregory the Great, Gregory urged bishops to use the opportunity afforded by the plague to admonish and exhort pagans to convert, stating that “the closer the last judgment, the more we must fear the strict Judge.” Despite the plague having been present for nearly fifty years, this is a rare mention in Gregory’s writings. The plague did not bring ministry and evangelism to a halt—the shepherds continued shepherding their flocks.

In A.D. 1348, the plague arrived in Europe. Cycles of widespread death from the plague would persist for more than three hundred years. Although understanding of contagion was in its infancy at the time and various local councils did at times attempt separation or isolation methods— whether separating the sick from the healthy or closing city gates— there was no method to gain completely the upper hand over the spread of disease. The shadow of death hung over civilizations for generations upon generations. Europe during this time has been described by Philip McNair as a “death-oriented society.” This would have set a particular context for ministry, but as in Gregory’s time, it did not result in widespread suspension of pastoral duties.

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By In Culture

The Danger of Servant-Leadership

Part 1Part 2Part 3, Part 4

Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk

The conversation over masculinity also has implications for how we understand the “servant leader” model of leadership in the home. Servant-leadership, as commonly understood in evangelical circles, has taken quite a beating in recent years, and rightfully so. Obviously, the servant leadership model is biblical because it derives from Jesus: he said the first shall be last; he is the Son of Man ( = New Adam), possessing authority, but he came among us to serve; he said the greatest of all is the one who becomes slave of all; he was exalted because he humbled himself and promises the same pattern to us; he stooped to wash the disciples feet even though he was Lord over them all. But the “servant leadership” model is all too easily twisted, and this has become the Achilles’ heel of complementarianism.

The real problem is that complementarianism has produced a lot of beta “nice guys” who think the way to get what they want is by giving others what they want. It’s what Robert Glover calls a “covert contract.” You see it in the Al Mohler quote Aaron Renn has called attention to when describing a man’s sexual relationship with his wife: Mohler suggests the man qualifies himself for sex and will (presumably) get the sex he desires by becoming what he thinks his wife wants. But I have done enough marriage counseling to know it does not work that way. A man who makes himself subservient is not going to faithfully execute the office of husband, and he is not going to win the respect of his wife over the long haul. A wife does not need or want her husband to be a “Yes man” to her. She needs him to lead her.

This is the real issue with “servant leadership.” Under this model, anytime a husband does not let the wife have her way, he can be accused of failing to serve her. And so practically, the marriage becomes no different from an egalitarian or feminist marriage where the woman runs the show. The man is only “allowed” to use his authority in ways that have his wife’s permission, whether explicit or implicit. He is only “allowed” to use his authority in ways his wife approves of which means he has no real authority at all. Instead, her emotions and felt needs come to rule the marriage. If the husband and wife disagree, the only way forward is for him to give in because otherwise, he would become a tyrannical patriarch, forcing his own will on her rather than serving her. Jesus would (presumably) give the wife what she wants, so the husband should too. If Jesus died for his bride, how can any husband refuse to give his wife what she desires? How can he say “No, honey, we’re not going to do that,” when he is supposed to serve her? Thus, “servant leadership” morphs into subservience; the head becomes the helper and the helper the head. This is Satanic role reversal accomplished in the name of Scripture. It is overthrowing the marriage’s built-in authority structure, which leads to chaos and confusion.

Feminists will never give in to their husbands because to do so is to allow herself to be controlled by him and that’s the one thing she cannot allow; thus she will continue to defy her husband in order to prove she is a real feminist. But the complementarian wife can get the same result by telling her husband, “You’re not serving me like Jesus. How can I follow you as my leader unless you serve me?” And thus the beat of the gynocentric order goes on. Basically, the “servant leader” model becomes a way for a wife to exercise control over her husband since he can be accused of tyranny or being self-serving any time he does not go along with her wishes. The “servant leader” model all too easily allows her to exercise veto power over anything he wants to do because she can shame him for not being the servant she’s been led to expect and thinks she deserves. She can play the “Jesus card” anytime she wants to trump her husband.

The problem, of course, is this is NOT how Jesus serves his church and so it is NOT what “servant-leadership” should be taken to mean. When Jesus died for his bride, he was not responding to a felt need. He was certainly not letting the bride determine the shape of his mission. In the Gospels, Jesus always leads the way and the disciples follow behind; they do not always even know or understand where he is taking them, but he keeps leading (cf. Mark 9-10). Or consider the picture in Revelation 19, with Jesus out in front, his disciples following in his train as he rides into battle. While Jesus serves his bride, and does allow her to give counsel (prayer), he never asks her permission to do anything and she always has to submit to him even when he does something contrary to her wishes. In other words, he serves her by ruling her. In the complementarian view, the man leads by serving — which means he does not really lead at all; in the gospel (patriarchal) view, the man serves by leading — his leadership is actually a form of service. The complementarian husband all too easily becomes a figurehead rather than a functioning head, and in that way, he actually fails to be like Jesus.

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By In Culture

How Resurrection Theology Shapes Our View of Masculinity

Part 1Part 2, Part 3

Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk

Unfortunately, too many accounts of Jesus’ manhood stop with the cross. Podles has pointed out this is a uniquely Western problem. The Eastern church tends to focus much more on the risen Christ. This Western version of Jesus stuck on the cross truncates our understanding of what he has done and who he is; it certainly truncates the lessons about manhood we can glean from his example. This truncation bleeds over into teaching on marriage when Ephesians 5:21ff is used to teach husbands that loving their wives like Christ loves the church means always giving her her way, keeping her happy at all times, and so forth. Instead of the strong, transformative, efficacious love of Christ as the model, we have a weak, effeminate love. If we reduce Christ’s love to what he did on the cross — and then we think of the cross primarily in passive terms — we can actually turn a husband’s headship into its opposite. The head becomes the helper. The wife’s felt needs become the measure of the husband’s faithfulness. The wife’s emotional state actually becomes the highest authority in the home. The man who should be a Christ-figure becomes a simp. But Jesus is not a simp.

The missing element here, as in so much of Western theology is the resurrection. Years ago during the so-called “Federal Vision” controversy, I was astounded at how many Presbyterian and Reformed theologians basically had no place in their theology for the resurrection. They affirmed it as a historical fact. They affirmed its importance, but they did not ascribe any special soteriological significance to it. Everything terminated on the cross. But, to paraphrase Paul in 1 Corinthians 15, a dead Christ cannot save and neither can a dead Christ provide us with the model of manhood we need. For these, we must look to the resurrection.

Christ’s resurrection is his justification/vindication — and therefore it is our justification/vindication as well. Christ’s resurrection is the inauguration of the new creation. We share in his resurrection life and that new creation even now, though more is still to come in the future. And finally, in the resurrection, Christ fulfills his commission as the New Adam, the Last Adam, the one who has total dominion over heaven and earth. As the risen one, he is King of kings and Lord of lords. As the risen one, he promises to bring judgment on his enemies. Indeed, in 70 AD he uses the might of Rome to destroy the primary persecutor his bride, the unbelieving Jewish people, an act of justified vengeance and violence that he prophesied many times during his earthly ministry (e.g., Matthew 23-24). The risen Christ kicks enemies and takes names.

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By In Counseling/Piety, Culture, Discipleship

Jesus’ Manhood as Fulfillment of Psalm 128, part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Guest Series from Pastor Rich Lusk

How does the blessed man in Psalm 128 relate to Jesus? Since Jesus must be our measure of manhood, do we see him reflected in the blessed man of Psalm 128? Or does Jesus give us an altogether different view of manhood and masculinity?

At first glance, it may seem that Jesus and the blessed man of Psalm 128 have little in common. Jesus remained single and childless; the blessed man is married with kids, and, ultimately, grandkids. Jesus never had a place to lay his head; the blessed man seems quite prosperous, with a table, food, and a home of his own. Finally, in the climax of his earthly ministry, Jesus seems to be weak and helpless as he is crucified; meanwhile, the blessed man seems strong, competent, confident, and prosperous. In one sense, Jesus lacks the status the blessed man possesses. The blessed man seems decidedly more manly, while Jesus looks weak and unattractive.

But perhaps the contrast is not so great. After all, Jesus does take a bride — the church. Through her, he raises up children — new believers. In the resurrection, Jesus is made Lord of lords and King of kings. All authority, power, and status belong to him. He now has a table over which he presides — the Eucharist — and there he feeds his family the fruit of his labors. The risen Christ has everything the blessed man has, and more. He becomes The Dominion Man — the man who rules over the very earth from which man was made. And indeed, when we look closely at the gospel accounts, we find that even when Jesus was put on trial and then taken away to be crucified, he remained in complete control of the situation. Jesus’ life was not taken from him; he laid it down. He did not die against his will, but willingly, enduring the shame for the joy set before him. He died because it was necessary to fulfill his Father’s plan. He goes to the cross like a warrior who willingly volunteers to die that others may live. But such an act reveals true strength. Indeed, it transforms our understanding of strength — and therefore of masculinity.

On the cross, Jesus might look like the epitome of weakness, a failed man, and a failed messiah. But in reality, he is acting in infinite strength to save the world. The cross is actually his coronation. He is “lifted up ” — exalted, enthroned — on the tree so that he might draw his bride to himself, a bride that will be formed out the blood and water flowing from his side. In the same moment, he is dying at the “Place of the Skull, he is crushing the skull of the serpent under his feet. He shows us a new kind of manhood, one hinted at before but now foregrounded — a man defined by self-giving and sacrificial love, a man who lays down his life to protect and provide, and a man who looks foolish though he embodies infinite wisdom. This man seems weak even as he conquers the world in love, a man who rules through service and who ushers in his kingdom through a cross.

It is very clear particularly in the gospel of John that Jesus is actually in control of all the proceedings from his arrest to his death. He is not a helpless victim but a powerful victor, making certain events unfold according to plan (the fulfilled prophecies along the way underscore that everything in unfolding according to a script). The details in John’s account affirm he is the Sovereign Sufferer.

When Pilate said, “Behold the man,” he was speaking more truly than he knew. This is The Man — the true man, showing true manliness. In a twist of irony, we find this is what blessed manhood really looks like — a man giving all he has for the sake of his bride, a man laying down his life to save his friends, a man losing his life that he may find greater and more glorious life on the other side.

In Mark 15, just as he dies, the Roman centurion confesses him as Son of God, which is a royal title. So far from seeing him as unmasculine because of how he died, the centurion confesses him to be the model man, a ruling man. The cross really is an enthronement and an act of power. No, not everyone saw it that way; not all are given eyes to see. But Jesus was clearly sovereign over his death and even the very moment of his death. He only died when he chose to give up his Spirit. The centurion, who no doubt had seen many crucifixions, had never seen anyone die in this way. It was the ultimate strength amid utter weakness. It was strength disguised as weakness.

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By In Culture

Jesus: The Model of Manhood

Guest Series by Rich Lusk

Part 1

We can also see masculinity if we look at the ultimate model of manhood in the Christian religion, Jesus Christ. The Jesus we meet in the gospels confirms the view of manhood we have already seen, but adds some important elements that serve to deepen, enrich, and transform our understanding of manhood. A good survey of Jesus’ masculinity can be found in Leon Podles’ recent book, Losing the Good Portion; I highly recommend at least reading chapters 1-2, which give an overview of masculinity and challenge feminized/effeminate pictures of Jesus (both literal and figurative).

Jesus does many prototypically manly things during his ministry. He protects women — though surprisingly he also relies on women to help support his itinerant ministry. He wins status contests with other males — especially as he schools the Sadducees and Pharisees in theological debate. He powerfully exercises dominion — early in life presumably as a carpenter like his father, but then in a greater way during his ministry in miraculous healings and exorcisms. When he is wrongfully arrested and falsely accused, he does not defend himself, as a pagan man might have done, but allows himself to be carried away to trial and then to the cross. Of course, he does this because dying on the cross was his mission — and pagans would agree that manhood is very much intertwined with the fulfillment of a mission, even if it brings death. He was sent by his Father in order to die for the sins of the world, and thus rescue his bride — the church — from death and Satan. In his case, to escape death would have been an unmanly act of cowardice because it would mean forsaking the mission.

The death of Jesus is a heroic death. Even if you strip away the theological meaning of the cross — that this is the eternal Son of God in human flesh, dying a substitutionary death for his people, the righteous for the unrighteous, taking upon himself the curse and wrath they deserve in order to rescue them from sin, Satan, and death, thus purifying a people for his own eternal possession — it may still be seen as heroic. Indeed, every great story of sacrifice, whether fictional (like Harry Potter sacrificing himself for his friends) or historical (like the men who went down with the Titanic so women and children could be spared an icy death) is derivative of the gospel. Anyone who sacrifices on behalf of others is now regarded as a Christ-figure for precisely this reason. The gospel is the ultimate story and it has shaped the stories we tell and the way we tell them. According to Podles, at least some pagans were able to see heroism in Jesus’ ministry and in his death, though they rejected the greater meaning Christians ascribed to these events. After surveying the many manly features of Jesus’ ministry, including his emotional life, Podles demonstrates the connection between Jesus and the classical conception of masculinity:

Jesus suffered crucifixion, the dishonorable death of a slave, but by that means attained the name that is above all other names. Paul accepted the classical ideal of masculinity and showed how Jesus fulfilled it and how a Christian could attain it. A man attained true manhood by a noble death in service to others; Jesus above all did this…For Paul, Jesus’ seemingly shameful death was in fact understandable, even in classic terms, as a heroic death. By his conquest of death and his resurrection Jesus was established as Lord, Kyrios, and his kingdom is universal and eternal. Jesus continues to exercise his self-restraint and clemency, characteristics of the ideal ruler, by restraining his divine anger at the evil of the world, and thereby manifests his manhood.

Jesus fulfills the anthropological model of masculinity, especially as it was understood in the classical world. Coming from an inconspicuous but mysterious and honorable background, Jesus leaves the world of his mother and goes about his Father’s business. He overcomes all obstacles to save those entrusted to him, and deserves the highest honor, the title of Lord. He uses strength to others in ways small and great, from washing their feet to raising the dead. Jesus confronts death, passes through it, and defeats it, and is initiated into a new life. His emotions, including anger and love, are intense, manifesting his thumos, but they are always perfectly controlled and reasonable.

Even if the connections Podles draws between the masculinity of Jesus and the vision of masculinity idealized by the classic tradition are not completely convincing, he still makes an important point. The fact that Jesus died in shame and weakness would not have, in themselves, invalidated his manliness since dying a martyr’s death for the sake of a greater good was not altogether foreign to the world of classic antiquity.

It is true that pagans often ridiculed the idea of a “Savior of a cross,” a man who “saved others but cannot save himself.” It is true they regarded the meaning ascribed to the cross in Christian preaching and theology as foolishness. But this does not mean they would have inevitably seen Christ as emasculated. Of course, the same goes for Paul and the other early Christians martyrs. One of the things that made the Christian faith so compelling to outsiders in those early centuries was the bravery of Christians, male and female, in the face of horrific suffering and death. Many persecutors were persuaded to become believers precisely by seeing the way Christians faced death without blinking — just like Jesus. Christian men – and even Christian woman – displayed “manly courage” in the face of persecution and death, something that amazed and drew in many pagans whose lives had been dominated by fear.

Again, this is not to say that pagans, Jews, and Christians all agreed on the meaning of manhood. They did not. The gospel brought believers to a new and transformed understanding of masculinity (and by implication, femininity as well) — and this was undoubtedly offensive to those on the outside of the church. But just as we should not flatten out the real differences between an evangelized masculinity and pagan masculinity, neither should we exaggerate the differences.

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By In Church, Culture, Discipleship

Jesus: The Blessed Man, An Introduction to Masculinity and Family Life

Guest Post Series by Rev. Rich Lusk

Introduction

If we want to know what it means to be a blessed man, perhaps we need to start with manhood itself.a What does it mean to be a man? How are men different from women? How does a man’s masculinity feed into his duties/roles as a husband and father? What shape should a man’s rule over his home and in the world take?

Masculinity (like femininity) is notoriously difficult to define. Masculinity includes maleness, but is something more; it is possible for one to be male but fail to be adequately masculine. Certainly we could give a biological definition, and what we learn about male (and female) nature that way is crucial, but we obviously want more than that. Some have defined manhood in terms of the 3 B’s: the billfold (provision), the ballfield (strength, competency), and the bedroom (his sexual relationship with his wife and the children who come from that). Others have focused on the 4 P’s: provision (man as breadwinner), protection (man as spiritual and physical guardian), procreation (one flesh with his wife, father to his children), and passion (interests leading to competency/dominion in various areas). Others have given more technical definitions: “Masculinity is the glad assumption of sacrificial responsibility.” Or more elaborately: “Masculinity is the presence of distinctive traits and drives especially found in men, including dominance, leadership, emotional self-control, aggression, and competitiveness, all used sacrificially for the good of others.” Still other definitions connect masculinity with certain forms of rule and authority, or with dominion over the earth since man was made from the earth and is oriented towards working/transforming it, or with the potentiality of fatherhood.

Biblically, several features of manhood stand out. Certainly, men are to be protectors and providers, warriors and workers, the muscle and the money. We see this in Genesis 3 where the man fails to protect his wife and the garden from the serpent and is then cursed in the realm of provision because that is his primary domain/responsibility. Manhood is also obviously connected with fatherhood. This capacity for fatherhood (whether realized or not) is the thing that most distinguishes the man from the woman (just as her capacity for motherhood distinguishes her from him). Obviously, fatherhood derives from and is to be patterned after divine fatherhood (Ephesians 3).

Scripture gives several depictions of idealized manhood. Psalm 1 and especially 112 could be understood in this light. Noah, Job, and Daniel are given as models of masculine faithfulness. David’s exhortation to Solomon to “Be a man” suggests a cluster of virtues and practices, such as courage, persistence, strength, leadership, diplomacy, grit, humility, dominion/competence, and so forth, are all crucial to masculinity. We could say the same about Paul’s exhortation to manliness in 1 Corinthians 16: he wants the men of the Corinthian church to lead the way in acting boldly so the church can function as a counter-cultural community.

The qualifications for church officers (who obviously must be men) in 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 can certainly be viewed descriptions of the “model man.” If you take all these qualifications together, you find that Scripture calls men to an ambitious mix of mature faithfulness and wisdom, combining boldness and bravery with humility and gentleness. The biblical man is a Renaissance man of sorts — a man who knows how to read a book with a depth and who knows how to engage in a fight with skill; a man who knows how to be tough, how to be gentle, and when to be which. It is interesting to compare these conceptions of manhood to those found in other cultures and religions. There are many features of masculinity that are virtually universal, such as honor, courage, strength, and leadership.

The OT expects battlefield prowess of men and praises them for it every bit as the literature of classical antiquity. It does not carry the same expectation of women; indeed, men who flee from the battlefield are regarded as acting like women (Jer. 50:37). There are consistent hints in Scripture of a division of labor between the sexes (e.g., the sexually differentiated curses in Gen. 3; Prov. 31:23, 27; 1 Sam. 8:11-14; Titus 2:3ff; etc.). In virtually every culture or civilization that we know anything about, men have been the primary rulers and stewards over public life and have been regarded as heads of their households, while women were the primary nurturers of children and managers of the home. But this does not mean that pagans and Christians actually agree on masculinity. In paganism, a man would boast in his own strength as he built his house for his own glory. Not so the godly man. Only in biblical religion can humility actually be a virtue for men. The godly man knows that whatever strength he has is a gift and whatever he accomplishes is really due to the Lord working in and through him. Biblical masculinity is masculinity by faith.

Part 2 will be published tomorrow.

Rich Lusk is an American author, minister, and theologian. His book Paedofaith: A Primer on the Mystery of Infant Salvation and a Handbook for Covenant Parents is a book-length discussion of Christian infant faith. He is currently the pastor of Trinity Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, Alabama as well as a co-author of a recent commentary on Ruth published by Athanasius Press.

  1. I recently preached a sermon based on the “family psalms,” Psalm 127 and Psalm 128. Video of the sermon is available here  (the sermon starts about the 17 minute mark) and audio is available here.  (back)

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By In Theology

On Younger Brothers and Older Brothers in the Bible

Guest Post by Max Graham

The theme of brotherhood is a deep one.  Read the Bible and it’ll be spoken of quite a bit.  But what is the Bible saying?

The Bible is a complex piece of literature.  That shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to those reading this blog.  Read any “Through New Eyes” commentary to get evidence of this.[i]  But complex in what way?

Complex linguistically?

Yes, since it was written in many styles, in many languages, with many voices.

Complex culturally?

Of course, since it was written over many centuries and begun thousands of years ago.

Complex stylistically?

Certainly, since many different genres are housed in this book.

But what I mean is that the Bible is complex thematically, since there are many different themes coursing through and circling around the drama.

The narrative plot is straight-forward.  One can summarize the basic story in a few sentences.  But, then again, one can also summarize the basic story of Star Wars in a few sentences.  The themes, however, are a bit harder to condense.  Just focusing on the theme of, say for example, Luke’s journey as an archetypal hero will take a bit of time and some serious reflection.  In the case of the Bible, this gets intensified by the simple fact that there are so many themes operating at the same time, with God’s Spirit breathing life into all of them.  The theme of Father and Son is a prominent one, and so is the theme of Exodus and Redemption.[ii]  One can write a book (or a sizeable series) on these, as well as on a multitude of other themes.  On the recurrence of the Garden of Eden and its successor City-Garden, on the prevalence of Nazirites in Scripture, on Males and Females, Words and Images, on holy warfare, on God as Architect building a House for His Name, on the Trinity.  I think you get my picture.  We shouldn’t be squeamish about this.  There’s a lot going on here and – like a good piece of music – we can distinguish the themes at the same time as we enjoy them collectively.  So, with all that said, let me focus your attention on one significant recurring theme in the Bible: Brotherhood.  Here are some musings on this fantastic theme.

Let’s start by remembering all of the brotherly pairs that are mentioned in Genesis.  First, you have Cain and Abel.  Later, Ishmael and Isaac.  Next, Esau and Jacob.  Then Jacob’s elder sons and Joseph as the youngest brother.  Finally, you end with Manasseh and his younger brother Ephraim.  Genesis seems to be a big book of brothers (and I even left out some pairs).  And the major stories certainly revolve around these fraternal pairings.  And that’s just Genesis.  If you search further, you can find Moses and Aaron, Eliab and David, Absalom and Solomon, not to mention the New Testament examples.

Let me now make a claim: whenever you get the situation of an older brother with a younger brother, what inevitably seems to happen is that the older brother fails at doing something while the younger brother succeeds.  In other words, (1) the older brother is given a responsibility, (2) the older brother fails at that responsibility, (3) the younger brother accomplishes what the older brother failed to do, and (4) the younger brother reaps the rewards.

Cain messes up his sacrifice, while God accepts Abel’s sacrifice.  Esau impatiently blows his birthright on a bowl of stew while Jacob succeeds in established God’s kingdom through patient laboring.  Jacob’s older sons (acting as a unified front, with Reuben dissenting a bit) mercilessly selling Joseph off to slavers while Joseph mercifully protects his brothers during a famine.  Aaron succumbs to the crowd’s pressure and gives them an idol, while Moses faithfully rejects the sins of the people. Eliab acts as one of the cowardly soldiers too afraid to fight Goliath (although he is able to berate his child-brother David for having the nerve to bring Eliab some food), while David boldly goes off to fight without armor.  Absalom grasps for power, Solomon asks for wisdom.[iii]

The Bible moves along in the story of the Older Brother and the Younger Brother until we get to the ultimate example at the heart of the Gospel.  Here we have the original “older brother” Adam – described as the son of God in Luke’s genealogy – and his “younger brother” Jesus – who is both referred to as the “Son of God” (constantly) and is the “younger” one (at least in a certain sense with respect to his incarnational place in history).  Adam fails in his task of being a faithful High Priest, protecting his bride and cultivating God’s garden, while Jesus continues to protect His Bride and to renew the World.  We don’t usually think of Adam and Jesus in this way, but I think it’s fairly grounded in Scripture.

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By In Church

Lord of All or Lord at All?

I just turned 41, but my records also inform me that I am on my 20th Reformed anniversary. Somewhere in the year 2000, I came into contact with a dangerous cargo filled with contrarian literature. I ate it all so quickly that the only questions I had afterwards were some variation of “What’s for dinner?” and “May I have more, please?” I still keep eating contrarian literature, and I really hope that the end result is not that I become a curmudgeon, but that I find creative ways to inculcate those blessings into my community.

So, while we are at it, let me undo speculations among some two-kingdom scholars. They consistently claim that while Jesus’ has authority over all things, that his authority does not provide or is intended to provide a tangible change in the cultural ethos. I, as a lovable contrarian assert the exact opposite: that the kingdom of Jesus is comprehensive and whatever it touches, it changes. It is not limited to one sphere, nor are things heavenly to be severely differentiated from things earthly. And again, not to repeat the obvious, but the earthly city is not Babylon, nor do we live in this perpetual sense of exile and pilgrimage simply existing seeking a city that shall come. We affirm that the people of God are headed somewhere to take something and claim Someone as Lord over the nations (Rom. 4:13), and that the city has come. Our agenda is to get people to see the ads and RSVP ASAP.

While the Reformers affirm the distinct polities of each sphere and even state without equivocation that there are distinct ends for governmental and ecclesiastical spheres, these ends do not end in wildly strange territories. They serve the kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ who has all authority and power in heaven and on earth. Jesus’ earthly authority does not void his heavenly power. They find harmony as one expressive manifestation of Lordship.

So too, you need to notice that when two-kingdom advocates say, “Don’t cause any trouble, let the local officials do their job, because…ya know, Romans 13 and I Peter 4, etc.,” what they are truly implying is that history is static and unmovable. The same texts that state government officials are deacons for righteousness also state that they are under one Ruler who is progressively moving history towards a goal.

Jesus’ overturning the tables was not some act of overt rebellion, it was an act of subversive faithfulness. When the temple does not do what it ought–worship rightly–Jesus has the right to shake things up, and when unfaithfulness endures, he has the right to send armies to tear the whole place down (Lk. 21:24). When Jesus sees a government functioning like a whore, he has the right to tell his people to surround it and sing for seven days and seven nights.

It really is an impious thing for a certain theologian in California (howdy, Scotty) to assert that Christians are pilgrims, and therefore should stop making a mess of things on our way to heaven or that they should stop singing in the public square, or that they should stop opining about unfathomably stupid mask mandates in a city with no COVID death, or that they should stop the pre-planned activities simply because attention from local officials violate the pernicious division between kingdoms. As the kids say, “LOL, ROFL!”

This form of sophistry is the demonstrable failure of an expression of theology that sees the worship of the church solely functional for the sake of the church. How brave it must be to sit quietly in Puritan piety without having to lift a finger in righteous anger towards blunt violations of heaven’s laws first and American laws second, but simply exert Augustinian language as a clear-cut-case for why Christians should not engage the political process as Christians.

Let’s even assume that Calvin’s language of “contrived empire” is applied straightforwardly to us–postmillennial dreamers–to imply that we too quickly make friends of government and church, are we then to simply sit back and wait for defeat as the ideal telos of the church? If the Great Commission does not imply a complete investment in earthly and heavenly things, then our Reformed forefathers failed us in attempting to write letters to pagan kings and to urge them to read fine pieces of theology, and to express their disapproval of government actions.

I submit that the Great Commission speaks directly to all spheres; that government officials should be catechized in the language of Scripture and that once in a while we should use our voices to bring their walls down. If Christendom is merely a catch-phrase for the isolation of the Church from culture, then Jesus should have remained only a great high-priest, but as we know quite well, he is also our great high-king and our great-high prophet. Like that crazy postmil missionary, Hudson Taylor used to say, “Christ is either Lord of all, or is not Lord at all”. I happily join his insanity.

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