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.
If we leave off the resurrection and vengeance of Jesus in 30 and 70 AD, respectively, we will end up with a very incomplete picture of him, and therefore a very incomplete picture of his manliness, and therefore a very incomplete picture of what our manhood should look like. If our understanding of Jesus’ masculinity terminates on the cross, it is all too easy to end up with a wimpy, pacifist Jesus who would never harm a flea (temple cleansing notwithstanding), and then we end up with a limp-wristed, cowardly beta male as our model for manhood. This is what I have sometimes called a “dispensational” view of manhood because it ends up pitting the version of masculinity we find in the OT (and largely celebrated in places like Hebrews 11) against the version of manhood we supposedly find in Jesus. But actually, Jesus’ version of manhood has more in common with the heroes of the OT than we might realize at first glance. Jesus transforms manhood to be sure, but there is also continuity. Jesus, like Gideon, Samson, David, and others, is a mighty warrior. He came to crush the serpent’s head. He came to pursue and claim his bride, taking her back from her captors. We see this when we take in the larger picture, inclusive of what he continues to do as the risen and reigning Lord who is extending his dominion over the nations, who smashes recalcitrant kings with his rod of iron, who continues to protect, provide for, and rule over his bride, the church. Thus, if a man really wants to image Christ’s headship to his wife in the way he loves her, yes, he must sacrifice for her. But he must also rule her, and he must extend the rule of his cultural dominion into the world for her sake. His rule will be kind and gentle, patient yet firm, but it will definitely be a form of rule. Ruling does not exclude the possibility of discussing or persuading, but “rule” still means rule. Far too many men today are figureheads more than actual heads. But Christ is not a mere figurehead over the church. He is the church’s Lord who serves her by ruling her. Husbands must do the same.
There is another way of getting at the problem here. Many accounts of manhood want to treat Jesus as the ideal “blessed man,” but they start with the cross rather than creation. Again, the same kinds of problems crop up as when the resurrection gets sidelined. This is actually the same problem, just analyzed from a different angle. If the ministry and mission of Jesus are detached from creation, we will fail to see how he is the one who (with the help of his bride) fulfills the original creation mandate, to take dominion and subdue the earth. Yet, the NT repeatedly shows us this is precisely what Jesus does (e.g., 1 Cor. 15:20-28). The work of Christ, and therefore the manliness of Christ, has to be understood in light of the original mandate God gave to mankind. Jesus is our model of manhood precisely because he fulfills this mandate to rule and multiply. He came to take dominion. And that is precisely what he doing.
This more comprehensive vision of Jesus’ manhood allows us to understand a number of other things as well. For example, it helps us see what a travesty it is that the American evangelical church’s culture has been largely feminized. We see this in programs that are created largely to suit the felt needs and desires of women, who are often trying to compensate for men who are either missing or failing their families. We see it in the move away from liturgy and into sentimental, highly emotionalized worship and music. The reality is that the church’s traditional liturgy is very martial. There is nothing analogous to liturgy in the feminine domain; it is an especially masculine endeavor, with its practices most closely paralleled in the marches and chants of the military. Indeed, the church’s culture is patriarchal, as it is ruled by spiritual “fathers” who oversee the household of faith. The culture of the church should not be feminized nor androgynous. It should reflect its masculine leadership — and in doing so, the church actually becomes a very warm and welcoming place for women and children who have the security of knowing they are shepherded by strong, competent, faithful men. Men who become elders take the house-building and house-defending skills they have learned in the training ground of their own homes and apply them to the wider context of the congregation.
As an example, preaching should have a decisively masculine quality. God wants his Word publicly proclaimed through a man’s voice, which is naturally more powerful and authoritative than a woman’s voice. Men and women communicate differently. Men are more direct and commanding; women tend to turn statements into questions as if they’re hunting for agreeableness. Preaching should reflect masculine communication norms; it should be a decisive proclamation. Again, the church’s culture should not be androgynous or effeminate; it should reflect the masculinity of its leadership. The church is a patriarchy – there’s no getting around that. And if the church has any interest in reaching men, this patriarchal order in the church will be affirmed because if men are made to choose between being Christian and being masculine, they will all too often choose masculine unbelief over effeminate faith.
