Touched by the Gospel (The Ministers of God, Part 4)

"...in all things we commend ourselves as the ministers of God...through honor and dishonor, through evil report and good report, though counted as deceivers and yet true, as unknown and yet well known, as dying and yet behold we live, as chastened and yet not killed, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as poor yet making many rich, as having nothing and yet possessing all things." II Cor. 6:4, 8-10

Paul established that we are the ministers of the gospel of reconciliation with God. He then asserted that we are to prove ourselves to be such ministers in the midst of any situation and by the might of God's goodness. Knowing that no situation can break us and that God's goodness strengthen us, Paul moves on to the final truth about being a minister of God: we prove ourselves to be His ministers through every circumstance. Whatever context befalls us, we are to plow through with all the magnificence of those called by God to proclaim His good news, and Paul lists three kinds of contexts: cultural, spiritual, and physical.

"...through honor and dishonor, through evil report and good report, though counted as deceivers and yet true...." As the ministers of God, we are not bound to cultural drifts and tides. All the cultures of man (whether they be decadent or wise, secular or religious, barbaric or civilized) will find some reason to despise us and our God and His gospel. Every fashionable fad or thought will have occasion to rise up against us, claiming and saying all manner of ridiculous things against us. The worst thing we can do (as some have done) is to surrender to and compromise with our current cultural paradigm, to give in to the crushing pressure of the passing whims of the world. The best thing we can do, however, is to live in the light of the fact that our true honor and acceptance is found in Christ, and our true report belongs with God; and if the world calls us liars, it is because they belong to the father of lies (II Cor. 4:3-4).

"...as unknown and yet well known, as dying and yet behold we live, as chastened and yet not killed...." As the ministers of God, our prime reality lies with what is (for the time being) unseen and not with what is seen (II Cor. 4:18). You may not be known by the world at large in any significant sense, but you are known by God in every significant sense. He knows you and sees you. His piercing gaze of light and love cuts through all the muck and murk of the world and finds you right where you are currently standing or sitting or laying. He knows you not just factually but intimately, because He made you, and He has made His home with you (I Cor. 6:19; II Cor. 6:16; Rom. 3:20). And though His hand may seem heavy upon you sometimes, so that you die daily and seem to be constantly chastened, yet it is done out of love for your good, to bring you to glory unspeakable and full of joy (Rom. 8:29-30). The worst thing we can do (as some have done) is to grow weary with God's penetrating presence and His constant "meddling" and to desire a repose into spiritual stagnation, holding fast to whatever fleeting pleasures and peace that, if you wish to go deeper into the divine heart, you would have to give up. The best thing we can do, however, is to let goods and kindred go into the hands of God, and in every circumstance march through as one who is known of God.

"...as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as poor yet making many rich, as having nothing and yet possessing all things." Every truly serious-minded civilization has known that the world is built on sorrow. The Christian knows this as well, and yet we rejoice; not in ignorance of sorrow, but in the midst of sorrow. We rejoice because there is a God beyond all sorrow; and yet He is not untouched by our infirmities (Heb. 4:15), and He takes pity on we who are of the dust (Ps. 103:13-14). His goodness outshines all the horrors of evil. Beneath the deep tragedy of the world lies the deeper comedy of the Trinity, and we have been made privy to its inside jokes: even while poor and having nothing, we are rich and have everything, because we possess and are possessed by God. Silver and gold have we not, but we do have the Mighty Maker and His all-consuming redemptive goodness that is full of life and light like lightning caught in a coal cellar.

So you see, we go through every circumstance differently than others, for our reality has changed. The gospel is not pleasant thoughts and phrases to us; it is not mere terminology. Rather, it is our context, our existence, the very air that we breathe. Circumstances cannot touch us like they did before, for we know too much now. We know God and are known of God (Gal. 4:9a). We know Christ and are bound to Christ (Col. 3:3). We know the gospel and have seen its power in our own lives, and we will see its power in the lives of others. So help us God. Amen.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2012

In the Midst (The Ministers of God, Part 2)

"...in all things we commend ourselves as the ministers of God with much patience: in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in floggings, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in sleeplessness, in fastings...." II Cor. 6:4-5

Paul just established that every one recreated by God has been tasked with one ministry: the proclamation of the gospel of reconciliation, reconciliation with God (II Cor. 5:17-20). Now he shows exactly what such a life ought to look like, starting with a hard truth: we prove ourselves to be the ministers of God in every situation, even and especially in the worst situations. Paul list three specific situations here: the personal, the social, and the ministerial.

"...in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses...." All of these words point to times of personal headache and heartbreak. (As a matter of fact, in the Greek both "afflictions" and "distresses" carry the idea of "pressure".) Many things will constrain us in our personal lives. Jobs will fail or go bad. Relationships can die or sour or never work out at all. Bills must be paid and futures planned for, and yet money is tight near to strangulation, and everything is uncertain. Coworkers can anger us, family can frustrate us, and strangers can annoy us. It is in the midst of these things, of the constant pressures and dire straits of daily living, that we are to prove ourselves to be the ministers of God. This is not about being pious do-gooders or starry-eyed somnambulists but rather new creations (II Cor. 5:17). Above and beyond the immediate hard situations in our personal lives, we let God and his over-arching, ever-working redemption inform everything that we do. "Yes, times are tough and life is life, but God is still God, and He and His kingdom are mightier than even the toughest troubles that I face."

"...in floggings, in imprisonments, in tumults...." All of these words point to times of social turmoil and upheaval. This is true in any nation today, whether it is the anti-Christian deathtrap that is China or the post-Christian acid bath that is America. The life of true faith will never be socially acceptable (unless it is watered down into some sort of blathering moralism or inconsequential spiritualism that no one in their right mind would disagree with because no one in their right mind would ever care about it). The real life of faith, the life of being a new creation where God and His kingdom are bigger than any and all present and future social orders, will always be unpopular (and in some cases, illegal), but we must live it nonetheless. We must prove ourselves to be the ministers of the gospel, even in lands where it is punishable (either physically or simply by becoming a pariah) as well as in lands where the social order is unstable and tenuous (which is the underlying idea in the Greek for "tumults"). In the midst of such things, we remain the ambassadors of a greater land to come. "Let every city of man crumble and fall. My hope and loyalty is built on nothing less than the city of God, which is as imperishable and immutable as its King."

"...in labors, in sleeplessness, in fastings...." Here Paul is being self-referential. He is speaking to what he himself has endured while ministering to the Church. The idea is this: regardless of what specific shape the ministry of the gospel takes in your life, regardless of how the specific facet of grace God entrusted to you takes form (I Pet. 4:10), if you give yourself whole-heartedly to it for God, then you will many times wear yourself out. You will worry yourself to many sleepless nights, and you will lose heart as the world turns more and more against you and its people seem less and less inclined to hear you. In the midst of these things, of working out the calling that God has placed on every one born to Him, we must prove ourselves to be the ministers of God. It is not simply a matter of doing the work (for any unbelieving fool can do something "in the name of God" or "Christ"), but rather remembering who it is that is with you doing it (Phil. 2:13-16). Whether in personal pains, social disorders, or ministerial heartaches, God and His redemption must be ultimate in our minds and in our lives. "Yes, the way is hard right now, and yes the world grows darker even as I spread the light like mad. But I do not strive for victory, or run the race for the fastest time. Rather I endure all things because I love my Lord, because I am His and He is mine."

-Jon Vowell (c) 2012

On the Necessity of Sanity to Ministry (as explained by an orthodox rebel)

"It is not fitting that we should leave the Word of God to serve tables." Acts 6:2b

There is a certain balance and sanity to Christianity, mainly because there was a certain balance and sanity to Christ. He knew nothing of our frenzies and hysteria, where we are moved along by fashionable sentiments and good intentions. In recent years, we have seen such madness. An extra devious madness, because its good intentions make it seem so right. Certain individuals (with initial clean hearts and hands) have perceived in the Church an apparent inordinate focus on doctrine, a focus that has created a kind of doctrinal intellectualism: cold, passionless, compassionless, and dead. In short, the thinkers continue to think, the bible-thumpers continue to thump, and meanwhile the poor and needy and all-alone continue to suffer.

In response to this real (though not nearly as great as they supposed) crisis, the best efforts of those certain individuals have yielded opposite yet equal problems. The Church has turned from a cold-hearted academic hall to a vapid therapeutic hospital, where doctrinal clarity has been so far jettisoned out of all preaching and practice  that Christianity's very identity often dissolves into a vat of ambiguous religious goo. We provide medicine, education, and social justice for many, but the truth that Christ died to save sinners from the just wrath of God is lost in transmission, if it is in the transmission at all. In short, in attempting to fix a broken leg, they have shot themselves in the foot.

All these things (from cold-hearted dogmatism to bleeding-hearted secularism) are the direct result of our innate insanity, i.e., our constant, furious drives to make the whole of the Church about one thing, ministry, or virtue to the detriment of all else. We trumpet the primacy of urban areas, and thus the rural and suburban are forgotten. We cry for the oppression of the poor, and thus leave the rich and middle-classes to damnation. We merrily reupholster people's furniture and plant trees in their parks, and yet we leave their souls to die. In fleeing from a pit of vipers, we have fallen into a den of thieves.

In Acts 6, it is clear that the disciples knew nothing of our mass manias. When widows were truly being neglected, the disciples did not halt everything and make the whole of Christianity about them, but neither did they ignore them. Rather, they said it was "not fitting" for them to help them, because they already had a ministry: "the ministry of the Word" (vs. 4). Apparently, it was the duty and calling of others to serve the ministry of the tables, and these others were found and their ministry made a part of the whole.

That is the balance and subsequent sanity of Christianity, of Christ. Everyone and everything finds its place. The body is many members, with many different gifts meant for many different issues (Rom. 12:4-6a). As long as those members see Christ as the head (Eph. 4:15-16), then what does it matter what they have been given to do (John 21:21-22)? If they are preachers and the gospel is preached, then rejoice! If they are intellectuals and the gospel is preached, rejoice! If they are doctors or volunteers and the gospel is preached, rejoice! If they are artists and the gospel is preached, rejoice! The one needful thing is Christ, and as long as He is the one constant, everything else will find its place in Him.

-Jon Vowell (c) 2011

(Additional readings)