students of jesus

One night I had a dream about traveling with the Apostle Paul. (You can read it here.) In the dream I watched him bathe in a stream, and I saw for the first time the scars on his back. His scars were the mark of an Apostle. In fact, they authenticated his leadership in God’s church.

Later I discovered a leadership thread in one of Paul’s letters to the church in Corinth (a troublesome group of believers who were more impressed with smooth-talking miracle workers than humble servants of God). It starts at the very beginning of the letter:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4) 

So many times I’ve heard people refer to “the God of all comfort.” They talk about God’s willingness to come close in our times of need. Comforting indeed, but Paul was actually introducing the topic of his leadership among these people. This thread in 2 Corinthians is unlike the Christian leadership writings North American Christians have produced in recent years.

A few chapters in the thread becomes clear:

We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. (2Corinthians 4:7-12)

This passage has encouraged and comforted me for years. I have turned to it often. But in my need for consolation I missed Paul’s main point: he’s talking about himself, and those who served with him as Apostles. The “we” in this passage was Paul and his team; the “you” were the people in Corinth. And the remarkable leadership lesson comes in the final phrase: “So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”

It is Paul who is hard-pressed on every side, Paul who is perplexed, and Paul who persecuted and struck down. The price of his apostleship was his suffering on behalf of others. Though his earthen vessel—the jar of clay, his physical body—was cracked and weak, the life-giving presence of Jesus oozed through the leaks to the people of Corinth.

Paul wasn’t interested in sharing his personal wisdom or ideas; he simply wanted to carry the life of Jesus; Paul’s body was the vessel. The sign of his leadership was his weakened state and his reliance on Jesus to shine through, even if it meant death was at work in his body. Who knew death was such a big part of being a leader in God’s Kingdom?

Later in this same letter Paul gives us the details of what he meant by “hard pressed on every side:”

Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was pelted with stones, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my fellow Jews, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false believers. I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches. Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn? If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. (2 Corinthians 11:24-30)

These are the “momentary light afflictions” of Paul. These are the experiences to which God responded with comfort and strength. These are the result of his willingness to serve those he led. How many of us see leadership in this light?

And I wonder what the church would look like if every leader led like Paul, or his Master. This is what it means to first be a disciple, and then to make disciples. It was not simply Paul’s calling, it is ours as well.

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Jesus had a plan for the church that nearly everyone hates. No, not evangelism. Nope: it’s not social justice, either. Nu-huh. It’s not even about reaching the poor. Of course these three are important. You could add to the list and be correct every time, but there’s one thing it seems we universally hate: Jesus left his church—his precious blood-bought bride—in the hands of sinful people.

I know. I don’t like it, either. And anyone who says they do are quite likely off their rockers (and definitely unfit for leadership in the church). It’s a heckuva way to run a railroad but I can’t find any way around it: Jesus poured himself into a dozen men for about three years and then he split. By the time Jesus left, the dozen had atrophied to eleven because one guy betrayed Jesus and then killed himself. Another one of them was given the nickname “Doubting.” Another cursed and swore he had nothing to do with Jesus on the very night the Lord was betrayed. Everyone ran away when Jesus was in need except for a timid teenager who followed from a distance.

Then the resurrected Jesus dropped by for a bit of last-minute training and left after 40 days. “It’s all yours, guys.” Jesus had a plan to put the church—and the spiritual health of all who would come into her—into the hands of radically flawed people. Listen: I don’t like this any better than you do, but to reject human influence (or yes, even authority) within the church is to avoid the model put in place by the Lord himself.

North American Christians seem to be of two minds about this thing: if we are in authority, or part privileged people within a church, we embrace human authority in the church because it usually stabilizes our well-ordered lives. If we are young, female, people of color, or part of any marginalized group, we see human authority structures as the work of mere men. We are both wrong. Jesus set up this arrangement and, sneaky guy that he is, he had his reasons. I intend to ask him about it sometime during eternity. But for now I can speculate (keeping in mind these speculations are the work of a child in the courts of the King):

• Human relationships are built into the fabric of life. Everything of lasting value comes wrapped in flesh: marriage, child rearing, love, friendship, humility, kindness, or even the visitation of God himself. Part of the beauty (and danger) of marriage and family is the hard work of living among sinful people. Jesus established something called a “church” and it, too, is mediated through people. Nations, wealth, philosophies and ideologies will all pass away. The permanent things come packaged in weakness and frailty.
• Jesus had no illusions about perfect leadership. Peter, Paul, and even Barnabas (the “son of encouragement”) all quarreled among themselves. Somehow the work of God progressed. Somehow Jesus expected they would figure it out. To expect perfect leadership is to reject the “system” set in place by the Master.
• Human leadership in the church is deadly serious. Acts 5:1-11 terrifies me. Yet we should pause to note that as frightening as those events were, they did not disqualify men from leadership. Those events established leadership. (I don’t like this any more than you do. I’m willing to listen: do you have a better reading of the passage?)
• Human leadership in the church is a dreadful burden on the leaders. I once posted this question on Facebook: “Do you think anyone else is responsible for your spiritual health?” Everyone who responded said no. One comment called the question itself “laughable.” Apparently my Facebook friends had never read Hebrews 13:17. Or this: when Paul described the hardships of his life (2 Corinthians 11) he adds to the list of shipwrecks, beatings, and bandits this unexpected phrase: “I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches.” At least for this Apostle, leadership was a visceral burden.

And one more speculation: what if communion is about you and me as well as being about Jesus? He said his body and blood were true bread and true drink. The elements of the Eucharist have always represented something beyond themselves. Why should we be surprised if they represent more than we can imagine?  Like children at make-believe tea party we share bread and wine unaware that fellowship is our true food: fellowship with him, and fellowship among us—who carry the Spirit within.

All this excuses nothing: Sin by church leaders is still sin. Foolishness in the name of God does not represent God. Terrible things have been done in the name of God, but the Father seems to think it’s worth the risk. If he can endure such ugliness (without excusing it) there must be a treasure in there somewhere. I am willing to buy the field in order to find the treasure. Indeed, there seems to be no other way.

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Over at YouTube I've launched a Students of Jesus channel.

The latest upload is a 90-second reflection "The Essence of Christian Leadership":

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I’ve heard and read this so often: Christian leaders must be thoroughly prepared for their task. Training is essential: study, testing, study, training, study, mentoring, and study. It would be a terrible mistake to turn leaders loose before they are fully equipped. Makes sense, right? Except, apparently Jesus thought otherwise.

Jesus demonstrated a radical model of ministry training. Friendship, relationship, and a deep soul-agreement are the ultimate preparations for ministry: first with Jesus, then with those we serve. Listen to the language—the images and metaphor—Jesus used when he finished his ministry with the disciples: “I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may be with you forever;” and: “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you,” and:  “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said to you.”

We place so much emphasis on preparation, but Jesus seemed to favor another method. From the very beginning of his work he talked about flowers of the field, birds of the air, and even when we face times of trouble he affirmed, "it will be given you in that hour what you are to say."

Of course, who could be against study and preparation? We are called to exercise mature judgment. No one would affirm that church leaders should teach error, or manage God’s church badly, but the subtle temptation of study and preparation is the urge to lean on your own understanding rather than hearing from the Spirit.

In the work of making disciples success is difficult to measure: the best disciple-Maker in history invested three years in a group that looked like failures on the very same night he celebrated a "graduation dinner" with them. Three days later the resurrected Lord spent an additional 40 days teaching them and finally turned them loose even when it was obvious this crew of disciples was far from perfect. Fast-forward to our modern churches: leaders are criticized because they do not have their act together, but perhaps, as leaders, we have invited this criticism by suggesting that we do.

It’s so much easier to measure ministry success by cold hard numbers, such as counting “decisions for Christ.” But the Father is all about transformation, not math. Even more surprising, the objects of transformation may be the ones doing the ministry, not just those receiving it. Perhaps this is why Jesus told Kingdom stories about the yeast silently working its way through a lump of dough, or of crops that grow while the farmer goes about his daily chores. What if the work of leadership involves making room for the mystery of what we do not know, as well as what we do?

The deep work of leadership is to find the harmony between sharing what we have learned from God, while remaining fellow travelers with those we lead. It is a work of service and grace—two qualities the world desperately needs.

The words are beautiful and inspiring, poetic and memorable. From the very first Bible I owned, I underlined them:

. . . We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. (2 Corin 4:7-12)

Perhaps you’ve read them, too, or drawn comfort from them.

Imagine my surprise years later when I realized these words were not meant for my personal comfort. Paul was talking about himself and his fellow-apostle, Timothy. Nor was he trying to inspire the Corinthians, he was trying to defend his ministry. The church he planted in Corinth—the result of 18 months of concentrated ministry—had turned away from him in favor of stronger, better-looking, smoother-talking, flashier “apostles.” Paul was yesterday’s news in the fast-moving urban center of Corinth, and he didn’t fit the mold of a great leader. Paul was short, balding, scarred, and perhaps nearly blind. Plus, he had left town—what did they owe him?

Now, writing in Second Corinthians, Paul defends his calling and actions as an Apostle, and he does so for the first six chapters of the letter. Try reading those six chapters with this in mind: Paul defends his “authority” by sharing the extent of his suffering. Paul had no website, no book deal, no video crew. His suffering was his business card. Listen:

“. . . as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as impostors; known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything. (2 Corin 6:4-10)

I count 16 qualifications for this man of God. Each one involves taking the low road, the sacrificial road, the humble road. How many do you see?

My personal lesson was seeing the words of Jesus worked out in Paul’s exemplary life. Jesus said, “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10: 42-45) Our brother Paul lived these words to the full. It’s a fullness to which I aspire.

Let’s not be too quick to appropriate Bible verses for our personal use. The passages of soaring beauty have been purchased at great cost, let’s not buy them second-hand and wear them cheap. The scriptures are filled with comfort and encouragement, and some of that encouragement is to embrace the hard way. I’ll continue to be inspired by the jars-of-clay, but for entirely different reasons. Will you walk the path with Paul?