Here's how it works in the aftermath of a sad but not-entirely-surprising fall

I'm here to help you.

1. If a man becomes a celebrity-pastor too hastily; and if he publicly and doggedly displays and defends traits that, if unaddressed, will (A) ruin him and (B) harm those he should be serving and (C) set a horrible example for those emulating him, it's wrong to say anything about any of that equally publicly.
2. If men who should know better promote this celebrity pastor and his ministry, thus effectively giving cover to his besetting sins, it's wrong to warn of possible dire consequences, let alone express concern for the ministries of the worthy men who enable him.
3. If the man does indeed crash and burn, it is wrong to say anything about it other than what a tragedy it is and how you hope he feels better soon. Specifically, it is wrong to mention that it was completely predictable, wrong to note that it could have been prevented, wrong to lament that those who had the man's ear evidently did not effectively issue corrective warnings — and really, really wrong even to hint that you yourself had tried to say something in a timely manner, and that it might have helped if those now dabbing their eyes with tissues had joined in when it might have counted for something, and express the hope that they might reassess how they approach such things.

Because if those people admitted their error and really did reform, things like this might not happen so often, ministries might be saved and saints protected, and fundamental needed systemic change might occur... which, come to think of it, would be a really great thing...

But anyway:

You're welcome.

Reasons not to abandon expository preaching?

To my mind, there are a myriad of reasons not even to toy with the notion of not preaching God's word in the assembly of the saints. But I want to single out an odd one from an odd angle.

I address preachers, exclusively.

Ask yourselves, "What possible thing do I have say, of myself and about myself, that warrants all these people interrupting the course of their lives and gathering together in this place at this time?"

If the answer that comes up from the very depths of your soul isn't "Nothing! Not one thing!"...

...then I'm not certain your head's in the best place for being a preacher in one of Christ's assemblies.

All that to say this: one of my chief reasons not even to be able to conceive of abandoning commitment to opening Scripture in every meeting of Christ's church is simply this question —

What else would I have that's worth talking about?

Nothing. Not one thing.

The literally indispensable ministry of the Holy Spirit in Gospel preaching

One of the realities that weighs more heavily on me in pastoral ministry now, more than ever in the past, is the need of the Holy Spirit's lifegiving ministry in, through, and beyond the act of preaching the Gospel.

As usual, Spurgeon says it with evocative power and excellence:

Oh, brothers and sisters, if anybody in this place knows the power which is in Christ to make his ministry of any use, I am sure that I do! I scarcely ever come into this pulpit without bemoaning myself that ever I should be called to a task for which I seem more unfit than any other man that ever was born. Woe is me that I should have to preach a gospel which so overmasters me, and which I feel that I am so unfit to preach! Yet I could not give it up, for it were a far greater woe to me not to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Unless the Holy Ghost blesses the Word, we who preach the gospel are of all men most miserable, for we have attempted a task that is impossible, we have entered upon a sphere where nothing but the supernatural will ever avail. If the Holy Spirit does not renew the hearts of our hearers, we cannot do it. If the Holy Ghost does not regenerate them, we cannot. If he does not send the truth home into their souls, we might as well speak into the ear of a corpse. All that we have to do is quite beyond our unaided power; we must have our Master with us, or we can do nothing. 

We deeply feel our need of this great truth; we not merely say it, but we are driven every day, by our own deep sense of need, to rejoice that our Lord has declared, “All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth,” for we need all power. Every kind of power that there is in heaven and in earth we shall need before we can fully discharge this ministry. Before the nations shall all be brought to hear the gospel of Christ, before testimony to him shall be borne in every land, we shall need the whole omnipotence of God; we shall want every force in heaven and earth ere this is done. Thank God that this power is all laid by ready for our use, the strength that is equal to such a stupendous task as this is already provided. 

[Spurgeon, C. H. (1896). The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Sermons, Vol. XLII (pp. 235–236), "Our Omnipotent Leader." London: Passmore & Alabaster. Paragraphs added to enhance readability]

Even so, come, Holy Spirit, to bring the word of the Gospel home with power and conviction (1 Thess. 1:5-6).

"Yeah, but dude, you're no Spurgeon"

[This is a companion-piece to the post today at Pyro, and to this sermon.]

The best three-word non-explanation explanation I've ever heard, for the phenomenon that was Charles Haddon Spurgeon, is this: freak of grace.

God worked in Spurgeon in a very unique way and, while his faith and core convictions are such as should be embraced and emulated, many of his personal idiosyncrasies should not be. It isn't that they were necessarily  wrong; it is simply that... well, they worked for him. And you and I are not him. Dude, friend, my brother — we are so not him!

So there are a great many things to which, if any mere mortal today were to try them in Spurgeon's name, the title of this post would make a sufficient response. Here are a few examples:

• "I know I'm only 16 and I've only been saved for one year, but I want to get up and preach a sermon. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."
• "I know I'm only 17 and unmarried, and I've only been saved for two years, but I want to pastor a church. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."
• "I know I'm only 20 and unmarried, and I've only been saved for a few years, but I want to be the sole pastor of a major church in a major city. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."
• "I think I'll enter the solo pastorate of a large and growing church without the benefit of the least bit of formal education or apprenticeship. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."
• "I think I'll preach for decades without really becoming adept in Biblical Hebrew or Greek. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."
• "I think I'll focus on preaching isolated texts with no particular progresseion either of a theme or through a book of Scripture. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."
• "I think I'll wait until Saturday to pick my sermon text for the next day. Then I'll enter the pulpit with a sketchy outline that would fit on an index card with room to spare. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."
• "I think I'll wait until Sunday afternoon to pick my text. Then I'll enter the pulpit with a sketchy outline that would fit on an index card with room to spare. After all, that's what Spurgeon did."

See how it works? This, you can try at home.

But doing what Spurgeon did and expecting good to come of it? Nah. Better not.

After all, dude, seriously:...

Pastoral tombstones

Someone started a hash-tag on Twitter called #pastoraltombstones.

If you don't follow me, you may have missed mine own contributions. To wit:

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
Here lie the moldering ashes of Bob,

Who dressed like a model but preached like a slob

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
He died as he lived with his right pinkie raised

So gentle and kindly — he lived to be praised;

but now life is done, and God's judgment he'll face

Not liking the price of the crowd's fond embrace

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
Lament ye the passing of good Pastor Jim,

Whose el'phant was fat, though his judgment was slim

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
Aye, farewell Johnny, your kind comes but once;

I'm sure we'll all miss your grand textual hunts

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
His children will miss him

and so will his flock

For Howard has preached

his last churchly crock

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
Pastor Smithers, a man of considerable charm

Lies dead now, ne'er more to do doctrinal harm

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
He preached and exhorted and gestured and waved,

But under this Rev'rend not one soul was saved

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********
Old Jim he was nuanced and helpful and deep

So dainty he ne'er slowed the doctrinal creep

**********   **********   **********   **********   **********   

In case you forgot: why I love my BibleWorks 9

This is a facet I listed as one... well, two... of several beloved features of BibleWorks, over at Pyro a version ago. But I want to re-highlight it for you, especially for all you pastors and teachers.

So I'm doing my morning blog-run, and I pass by Sharper Iron. I see that there's an article on the interpretation of Ecclesiastes.

Now, at present I'm neither preaching nor teaching nor studying Ecclesiastes. But some day, I may well do so. What are the odds that I will remember, on that day, that there was an article on interpretation at Sharper Iron? Zero. But if the miraculous happened, then how long would it take me to find the article? Long.

Not with BibleWorks.

With BibleWorks, all I had to do was copy the URL, click-click over to Ecclesiastes 1:1, write "Sharper Iron did an article on the interpretation of Ecclesiastes," select part of that text, hit Ctrl+K to bring up the link popup, hit Ctrl+V to paste the URL, hit Enter — and that note is saved to that verse forever.

Brothers, how often does that happen with you? Answer: all the time. You think of an illustration of a verse, you have an observation on a verse or passage, you read a blog or hear a sermon or lecture shedding light — and you're struck by that wistful despair. You know, "That's great... I sure hope I remember that... but I know I won't."

BibleWorks solves that. It's fast and it's terrific. Honestly, my notes would be worth a good chunk of change. They're filled with links to journal articles, books, online resources; personal observations; quotations from authorities. And they'll be mine until the Lord returns or I die, appearing whenever I mouse-over the verse, instantly.

I've helped put BW in the hands of two other pastors that I can remember. If you're a church-member and your pastor doesn't have it, start now getting together a fund to buy it for your pastor for Christmas. He'll love it, and you'll profit. I just can't say enough good about it.

But I'll keep trying!

What I'm doing instead of Hither and Thither

Frank Turk has the two-word answer ready. We'll get to it.

As you can easily imagine, any time I've ever talked to a church about pastoring, or even about pastoring a church, one question is sure to pop up:

"Will you keep blogging?"

I've always given the same answer, and you can all probably recite it like a catechism. I've always said that I expect I would, but the local church ministry would always come first — because, after all, Jesus did not institute blogging per se, but He did institute the church. And, as I've always told folks who write me for personal counsel, while I may be a pastor, I'm not your pastor; he's who you should be talking to.

So now, hey presto! I am someone's pastor. I am the guy I'd be telling them to talk to.

For me, the joyful responsibility of pastoring Copperfield Bible Church officially began last Monday. One of the folks I'd been looking forward to knowing better was a lively, brightly-smiling older gentleman, a veteran and a teacher, named Glenn. Before my trip out here, I'd been saddened to learn was in the hospital, and my family prayed for him. So Monday, I spent some time with him, followed by another visit Tuesday, after which I visited his wife at her home.

The next day, Glenn passed away, to my sorrow.

What I'm doing instead of HTing this week, then, is preparing for that funeral, as well as for my installation sermon on Sunday and a number of series and sermons to come. And just getting situated and up to speed.

Once the dust settles and I get my bearings, if the church ministry allows, I expect to be more regular. But HT is really time-consuming, following up the many links and leads I'm sent and doing my own. Though it's a favorite and I enjoy it, it's likely the first thing to go.

Hope you understand, and I hope you'll pray for Glenn's widow Dorothy, for my church, for my family, and for me.

So I hope to return to HT soon, but hope you'll understand that I'm hip-deep in other things right now...

...wait for it...

...like ministry.

(c:

Goodbye, California...

A post in two parts and two places

I am as Californian as it gets... or I have been. I was born in California, grew up in California, was saved in California, married and started a family in California, and have never lived anywhere else other than in California.

California is a pretty wonderful state. Just about everything you could want is in California, whether it be deserts, ocean, snow, lakes and streams: it's all there. It's a big, long state, and rich in beauty and natural resources.

However prosperity without Gospel faith and living always tends to ruin, and so it has gone in California. Tyrannical, obsessive over-regulation has is strangling the life out of its commerce and sending businesses running for friendlier climes, while politicians continue to multiply spending and taxation and fees in an inexorable cycle. While many faithful folks and ministries remain, California has a trajectory that is pretty dismal.

But it has a special place to me, for all the reasons I listed and more. My favorite area in the attainable world (this leaves out Scotland, for instance) is the Eastern Sierra. I've gone there probably since I was 2 years old. I remember 5-cent coffee at Schat's Bakkery in Bishop. As a young man, I traveled there as often as I could, scouting out places I'd eventually bring my wife and kids one day. And I got to do that, to my great joy.

But everything is subject to change except God, even one's lifelong place of living. Particularly when in pursuit of a larger goal.

And so last Friday I found myself seeing California recede in my rear-view mirror, at the start of a looong drive east and south.

Continued here

Thoughts on Herman Cain and dealing with accusations

I am seldom if ever "coy" with you. Hence, I've been open about the fact that I'd like to favor Herman Cain above the rest, but he just hasn't "made the sale." Again and again Cain has struck me as being seriously not ready for prime-time. It isn't that Cain is not a policy-wonk who goes bowling with the prime minister of Beki-beki-bekistan. It is that he doesn't seem to have thought through even how to enunciate core principles.

So now Cain has faced a steady din of accusations of improper behavior. The first were, to me, very suspect: vague, unprovable, he-said/she-said and long after the fact. Classic hit-jobs. They had every sniff of being an attempt to get rid of Cain, to Clarence-Thomas him. Yet even those, Cain didn't handle particularly well.

Now a specific woman has stood up with specific allegations in specific places and time. Yet even this is awfully hard to assess.

On the one hand: Gloria Allred. Period. That any woman would pick Gloria Allred to represent her immediately calls everything about her into question. Plus, the alleged victim smiles and seems awfully happy through the whole thing. Plus, while she has contemporary witnesses, she didn't tell even them the specifics. Plus his alleged behavior, even if true, stopped the moment she told him to stop.

And yet, I know that outwardly inappropriate behavior doesn't mean the story isn't true. It could simply be embarrassing, and that's how she deals. Could also explain her not telling her friends at the time.

But what "gets" me even more is how she stresses that Cain stopped immediately and took her back to her place immediately. If she were making it up, if she were living in the world of "nobody can prove me wrong," if she's trying to fabricate a picture of Cain as an unhinged predator, why not make it worse? Why not put more nasty words in his mouth? Why not make him more insistent? Why not paint him as refusing to stop immediately, as refusing to take her back immediately? It's as if she's consciously not trying to paint it as worse than it is... and that doesn't sound like a liar.

(However, the pushback is already beginning: see here, here, and here. I don't know what to think, but I do know what to do: keep an open mind and closed principles.)

So it's bad, and I don't see how he gets out of it; and that's bad.

Having said all that, I do also say these things:

When there's smoke, sometimes there isn't even smoke. Accusations are just accusations, and the more scandalous and unfalsifiable, the worse.

My then-little kids and I used to drive a route regularly where we saw great billowing clouds of smoke. At first, we thought something was really burnin' down the house. But then I realized that these clouds disappeared fairly abruptly after the initial billows. That's because it wasn't smoke at all; it was steam, and steam dissipates.

So sometimes something that looks awfully damning and substantial can dissipate pretty suddenly under examination and reflection.

It's well-nigh impossible to prove a negative. Have you ever been alone with a child or a member of the opposite sex? Without witnesses? Ever? Of course you have.

Now just imagine that person making a shocking and false accusation; or someone else making a shocking and false about the two of you. How do you disprove that? "Here's a picture of me not doing what you say I did. And here's a video of the two of us not doing what you said we did." Can't be done. Think about that, seriously think about it. Think about bearing that burden.

Character sniping is a popular passtime. It's cheap and easy to make accusations, seem to be a victim, get sympathy, and move on, leaving another's character forever tarnished.

Gone are the days of America lauding heroes, celebrating people who strive and achieve and accomplish. No, victimhood is celebrated today.  Everyone longs to be a victim. And claiming to have been abused by a public figure is a great way to achieve the longed-for status.

That's why I think we should have some form of the Mosaic law about false accusations (Deut. 19:15-21). Slander should cost something.

People set out to destroy people who make them feel bad about their sin. For years I've sought for a way to express this well, and I still don't have it... beyond that statement.

Here's how it works: Pastor/politician/person A makes you feel bad for your sin or inadequacy. You have two choices: repent and deal, or destroy him so you can feel better about your sin.

Those who don't opt for the first usually opt for the second.

So, to many people Herman Cain simply represents a threat to abortion and a threat to racial entitlement, among other things. So they want to destroy him, period. That will go a long way to explaining much, though (as I've said) it won't necessarily explain everything.

The double-standard between the parties stinks.  The GOP, as a rule, carries out its own trash; the Dems, as a rule, regard such things as résumé-enhancers. The reason, I think, is simple and plain, though many are reluctant to say it. It is that of the two relevant parties the GOP is as a rule the friendliest home to practicing Christians, and the Democratic party as a rule is the friendliest home to people who really really hate Jesus.

Now, do note the qualifier. Lots of Republicans really, really hate Jesus; and... well, frankly, I rather think fewer and fewer Democrats love Him much, as their party's lead positions show seething contempt for God, but I don't doubt there are some who do. Wrongheadedly, but nonetheless.

But that being the case, the GOP cares more about its candidates' morality, and the Democratic party just doesn't. (Andrew Klavan adds some pretty terrific thoughts to this, as well, as does Doug Wilson.)

So here's Bill Clinton, who uses his office and power to sexually use women and abuse them and then cover it up. And the Dems form ranks to protect him, at all costs, period. The Dems sold their soul to keep Bill Clinton in office, and they never bought it back.

Why? See the previous reason. Bill Clinton was the best friend pro-aborts ever had in the White House, until Obama. He represented wonderful things to many really bad people. So he was to be protected, and his opponents destroyed.

Those are my thoughts, offered for what they're worth.

Oh, and by the way: do you think I was just talking about politics?

Nah, you're smart folks.

"Pastoral"? Perry Noble and Kevin DeYoung, a study in contrasts

First, endure this from pastor Perry Noble (ht Joe Fleener):

Then, read this essay on caring for the sick and dying, by pastor Kevin DeYoung.

Then remind yourself of what "pastor" means (shepherd), what that person is called to do, and tell me:

1. Which of them sounds more like the "shepherd" of Ezekiel 34:2-10?
2. Which of them sounds more like the "shepherd" of John 10:11-15?

Two objections, and responses:

First, I do grant that it is a weakness that I have not listened to the entire talk from which Noble's blast is excerpted.

However, I would counter, first, by reminding all that it is not necessary to have heard and/or read everything any public figure has said or written in order to critique one part of his speaking or writing. Further, I would point out that Noble repeatedly assures his hearers that he is not joking, and repeatedly refers to himself as a "pastor." He underlines and underscores and bolds and italicizes and capitalizes every word. I cannot imagine how this could be other than his apologia pro vita sua — by which I fancily mean a defense of his lifestyle as a pastor.

Second, I do not grant that it is unfair to lay a pastor against Christ by way of comparison.

A pastor is called to be a shepherd, like Christ (Ephesians 4:11), he is called to be an under-shepherd of Christ (1 Peter 5:1-4), and he is called to take Christ for his model (ibid, plus 1 Corinthians 11:1).

There are so many things that are so ugly about this that I know I can't fully express them at once. Let me focus on one.

Hiding, falsely, behind Jesus and the Gospel.

What I find particularly ugly is how Perry Noble, like other "bad-boy" pastors, is hiding behind the Gospel in a bad way. How many of these bad-boys have said, virtually in these words, "I just have to be foul, arrogant, obnoxious, ungodly and impure because I just love Jesus so much, I just love preaching Jesus so much, and I just love preaching the Gospel so much"? The implication is that any critic of their obnoxious, harmful words or behavior must necessarily be someone who doesn't really love Jesus, and doesn't really love the Gospel.

Take Noble, here. Noble couches this preening, arrogant, abusive tirade in terms that to think otherwise would be to lead people to think that he can save them, and to say "Instead of needing me (to pastor you), you need the Gospel." He tries to make folks feel that, if they think their pastor should actually pastor them, they should be ashamed and feel like godless, Gospel-denying idolaters.

Such is a false dichotomy. It is true that the Gospel should be central to all Christians. It is true that Christians should not worship a man (which, ironically, is I think a side effect of tirades like this, which bring 2 Corinthians 11:20 to my mind). It is true that Christians should look to the Lord and to His Word for the conduct of their own lives.

But it is not true that they shouldn't hold their pastors to the Word as well.

Further, all should lament the premature prominence given to such speech-givers by pastors who (by contrast) have paid their dues and earned a degree of respect. As usual, I couldn't say it better than m'man Phil Johnson already did, when he wrote that

the public "mentoring" of bad-boy pastors by men who have earned a degree of respectability is a Really Bad Idea. If you're a famous pastor who truly wants to be a help to a young foul-mouthed narcissist rock-star pastor, it would be better to do it privately and withhold your public affirmations of the punk pastor until he gains enough maturity to actually meet the biblical requirements for eldership.

Amen.

Questions for Doug Wilson

This is a tag-team post with Phil Johnson's terrific essay today at Pyro. Taking on myself to tag-team with Phil has a long and storied history in this blog, pre-dating our partnership at Pyromaniacs. I write assuming that you, Dear Reader, have a familiarity with the issues Phil takes up in that posts, also expanded on in its linked posts.

Necessary background

In center stage we have falsely-named "continuationism" as represented by Mark Driscoll. In the talks recently discussed at Pyromaniacs, Driscoll positions himself thus:

1. He has special powers beyond those of mortal man.
2. These powers are the continued gifts of the Spirit discussed in the New Testament.
3. One of those powers is that he has X-rated movies of his parishioners playing in his head.
4. They're not 100% accurate.
5. Yet, when challenged as to how he knows these things, he says "Jesus told me" — which is to claim that Jesus is saying things directly to Mark Driscoll that He is saying to no one else.
6. Anyone who denies Driscoll's powers is a materialist, and a borderline atheist — or at least a Deist.

Now, Frank called Driscoll on part of this well and fairly, and Phil flatly called Reformed leaders out for giving cover to such malpractice by coddling "continuationism."

In response to Phil, commenter after commenter thoughtfully showed up and proved his point over and over again. I never cease to marvel at the apparent complete lack of self-awareness among such commenters.

But I do marvel at Douglas Wilson adding his name to their number.

In his characteristically wittily and well-written post, Wilson says many wonderful things, in order to say a really bad thing. Wilson has this C. S. Lewis-like ability to phrase things so well that, once he's said them, it's over, he just can't be topped. I love this phrase: Wilson speaks of "a Christian culture where lots of people think that the revelatory gifts are still operating on all eight cylindars [sic] and yet (mysteriously) without the Bible growing in size." Phil and I have been saying that same thing, but Doug Wilson here says it wonderfully well. And Wilson expresses concern over the resultant "ethos" that "continuationism" has created.

Yet...

Yet Pastor Wilson is hosting this man, Mark Driscoll, who not only fosters that "ethos," but (A) does so in pastorally alarming ways, and (B) says anyone who doesn't agree with him on those specific claims is a "materialist." You know, like Owen and Augustine and the Hodges and Machen. Materialists, every one of 'em.

In the meta to Phil's post, commenters and I again and again drew out the practical, pastoral implications of Driscoll's claims. We imagined the aftermath of anyone taking seriously Driscoll's claims to Spirit-given supernatural powers beyond those of mortal man — as Driscoll demands that we take them seriously. We imagined scenes like this, which are necessary results of Driscoll's claims:

Woman: Grandpa, did you sexually molest me when I was a little girl?
Grandpa: What?! No!
Woman: OK. Pastor Driscoll says he saw you do it in a movie Jesus told the Holy Spirit to run in his head. But he also says he's not always right. So, never mind.

Or picture this conversation:

Man: Pastor Mark, I'm having a terrible spiritual struggle. I just have these vivid pictures of naked women in my head, sexual imagery, sexual scenes.

Driscoll: Oh, I have that too, but it's a gift from the Holy Spirit. Are you sure it isn't God showing you something?

Man: Um... I... um, I've never thought of it that way... in fact, I never thought of thinking of it that way... but if that's what my pastor says...

The questions

So here are my specific questions for Pastor Wilson. I don't ask them pugnaciously. The answers aren't all simple, though I think some should be. What troubles me in his post is that Wilson side-steps them; so I bring them up for consideration.

1. What do you make of a pastor saying the Holy Spirit ran X-rated movies in his head by direct revelation from the hand of God? 
2. What do you think of a pastor telling a furious, abusive husband "Jesus told me," referring to a hunch he had about the husband's abuse, then leaving them to sort it out? 
3. Are you saying that these occurrences are examples of your "strange things happen" rationale, as set out in your recent post? 
4. Do you take any responsibility for the certain fact that "continuationists" like Driscoll will use your argument as "cover" for what they do? 
5. Do you see that that was Phil's point? 
6. Are Calvin, Spurgeon, Warfield and you materialists and borderline deists? 
7. Would you ever, ever ordain a man who did or said any of these things even once, and did not repent and show fruits of repentance for some time afterwards? 
8. What do you think about the clear and intended implications of this position, that preaching the whole Word of God is not sufficient for the salvation and sanctification of believers?
9. Should you extend the mantle of respectable leadership to such a man? 
10. Do you think no one has yet tried to persuade Mark Driscoll to leave off his troubling practices before? 
11. Will you have powers of persuasion far beyond those of mortal man?

Final clarification: do I think leaders are always responsible for every error of everyone with whom they associate themselves? In no way. Were that true, no one could associate with anyone. I would barely  associate with myself.

But isn't it apparent that this is not isolated, inconsequential, minor? This isn't something that some people allege Driscoll said or did 30, 20, 10, or even 5 years ago, and then either repented of or never repeated or never talks about as a central. It's something he insists on as an important, defining issue; everyone who doesn't agree with him are materialists, Deists, almost atheists.

It doesn't seem to me that Driscoll has left the option of chuckling, grinning, and shrugging off his actions as "Oh, that Mark, he's such a kidder!"

Justin and Challies: just kinda funny

Both those good brothers — Justin and Challies — are all (as) excited (as they get) because The Driscoll told Francis Chan that everyone thought he was nuts. Gasp!

If only someone had taken a cold hard look at Chan's announcement before now!

Like... oh, I don't know... four months ago? And again from a different angle? And again?

Just sayin'.

Yours faithfully,
DJ "Cassandra" P

Mike Adams on Joel Osteen on John 14:6

In July of last year, I wrote that "I don't really have a feel for Mike Adams," and that is still true. I only mentioned him one other time, around a month later. In the first, I whacked away at some jerky overgeneralizations he made about "bipolar illness"; in the latter, I linked to a good column.

Now reader Al Stout emailed me a link to an Adams column titled John 14:6 for Dummies. The burden of the column is (A) the clear exclusivism of the New Testament in general, and of Jesus in particular; (B) what a horrid botch Joel Osteen made of (what should have been) a simple question from Larry King; and (C) the fact that Osteen's bumble could only be explained as concern for loss of book sales, or concern for loss of church members. That is, if Osteen stood foursquare with Jesus and the apostles, he'd lose popularity.

Of course, I agree with Adams about the clarity of the New Testament on this issue.

As to Osteen, if this is Adams' first notice of him, he's late to the party. As early as February of 2005, I was ringing a bell about Osteen (alerted in part, in fact, by the late Michael Spencer). Since then, there have been many more mentions of Osteen at my place and elsewhere. So if Adams is just arriving, he's more than welcome.

I'm not sure that Adams' two guesses are the only ones, though. They're certainly possible. They're also cheap and easy. Everyone always says that money and desire to be popular explain everything. They do explain a lot, and — who knows? — maybe they also explain everything when it comes to Osteen.

But I'd suggest a possible explanation number 3: maybe Osteen was just ignorant of what the Bible teaches.

If so, I hasten to add, it is a fully culpable ignorance. My point is only that, to get where Osteen has gotten, he didn't need much Bible. He isn't where he is because of his proficiency in teaching the Bible, right? Do you have the impression that Osteen's supporters demand much Bible from him? So maybe ol' Joel just really hasn't had to know much about the Bible.

Think about it just a moment longer before you tell me how wrong I am. Suppose you want to be rich and powerful like Joel Osteen. What might be your list of requirements?

1. Well-known father with a name you can launch from.
2. Decent looks.
3. Dazzling smile.
4. Winsome manner.
5. Giving people what they want. Specifically
6. Ability to give happy, uplifting, motivational talks.

Where's the Bible generally, or the Gospel specificaly, in any of that? You just don't need it to get from here to there. When would Osteen have had to study through, or think through the Biblical Gospel, or Biblical Christology, to get to where he is?

Here's where I'm going with this.

First, a man who cannot enunciate the Gospel nor teach the word is in no Biblical sense a faithful pastor. I made that case in 2005, and don't have much to add. But...

Second, while I blame Osteen for his own failures and defects, I blame professed Christians for him being an issue.

I have beat this drum many times and, by lollipops, I'm about to beat it again. What if Joel Osteen had gotten up X years ago to peddle his goods, and Christians en masse had responded with "So, give us a Biblical definition of the Gospel. Tell us how you've paid your dues in acquiring the tools for cutting the Word straight. Spell out a rigorously Biblical doctrine of Christ and of Scripture and of ecclesiology and of preaching and...."?

Or say, even apart from detailed questions, what if Christians had dropped into his church and then seriously asked, "Is that what the Bible teaches?" — and then hit the Book to find the answer?

What would have happened, in either case? Without repentance, Joel Osteen would never even have achieved blip status. We would not be talking about him today, not among Christians. We would not even know his name.

You all know that I blame individuals who enter the pulpit without having done due diligence in their preparation. Their sins are their sins.

But at the same time, if people did not "call" Osteen sorts, storytellers and motivational speakers to their churches and fill their pews and pay their salaries, there would be fewer of them occupying pulpits that other trained and equipped men could fill. I have in mind men now meeting with a few folks in a rented room at a school or a public building, laboring in obscurity somewhere, but fit for larger works.

Many times I've told the story of the young man I knew 30+ years ago who was on his church's pulpit committee. I'd only been a Christian for maybe four years or something, but when I heard his favored candidate was from Princeton, I suggested a few questions. He literally snorted at me. He really liked this guy, because he had some great ideas for great programs. They called him, I met him, he did not believe in the full authority of Scripture. But that wasn't important to that church, who called him instead of anyone who was Biblically sound.

Multiply that story by thousands, and you have some idea of why we are where we are.

So if you're reading and you're a man in or headed for pastoral ministry, but you have no intention of achieving Gospel or Biblical proficiency, I call on you to stop, repent, do what you should before you do what you shouldn't.

But if you're looking to support a church with your presence, and Biblical soundness in the leadership isn't at the top of your list of "musts" — same call.

Joel Osteen is the blight he is because of Joel Osteen, and because thousands support him. A change in either factor changes the whole equation.

The ever-rising bar: must one know everything to assess anything?

A few years ago, NT scholar N. T. Wright said some goofy, inane thing or other — and let's face it, he's said a few — and we (particularly Phil, I think, in the first instance) called him on it, over at Pyro.

The woodworks opened, and out poured the Wright fanboys in their smoking-jackets and slippers, demanding a sworn, notarized affidavit certifying that each of us had read and understood each of the approximately 231,517 pages that Dr. Wright had written to date, before venturing to criticize any independent statement he made or wrote about anything, anywhere, ever.

Fast-forward to my post on Francis Chan's written announcement of his "step of faith." In that post, I specifically stated that I was not going to focus on Chan, nor on anything else he ever said anywhere except that one statement. My focus would be his stated rationale. I explained why I found it (at best) problematic.

My assessment resonated with many, and ticked off a few. Though again and again I said, "Now, maybe he meant this...", another blog faulted me for not giving Chan a chance, and otherwise badly misrepresented me. A couple of commenters said I really needed to watch the video.

Here's the thing: no, I really don't. Let me explain.

What's on that résumé again?

Wright, Chan, any pastor, any writer, me — we're in the "business" of communication. It is what we do. Particularly in the case of pastors (again: Wright, Chan, yr. hmble svt.), we are held accountable for our words (cf. James 3:1). We know it going in. If we don't, shame on us — but the accountability is there, regardless.

My point about the single piece of communication I identified for analysis is that there is no context that would change my analysis of it.

Well, okay, I suppose the one exception would be if, in the video, Chan says,

"Okay now, after this, I'm going to write this letter chock full of mystical mumbo-jumbo and irresponsible, potentially disastrous implications. Don't even read it! I don't mean a word of it! As I just explained for 56 minutes, what I mean is the exact opposite! I'm writing that letter just to expose people who don't listen to and read absolutely everything I write and say. Mock them."

Does Chan say that in the video? Does he? Anyone? Bueller?

Didn't think so.

Let me give an analogy, drawing on a more grave subject.

Let's suppose: a grave, Gospelly analogy

Suppose some pastor gives a 57-minute sermon, in which he preaches the Gospel. Suppose (for the sake of argument) it is Biblical, crystal-clear, and faithful. Certified 100% sound. Lig Duncan, Phil Johnson, R. C. Sproule, John MacArthur, James White... even Ingrid Schleuter — all of them get all teary, it's such great and solid preaching.

And suppose as a follow-up he writes his congregation this note:

Dear Friends,

For those who did not hear it, this past Sunday I preached the Gospel of Christ. It was a moving experience for me, as has my entire ministry here at Bogotron United Church.

It's just really neat to know that when we believe in Jesus, get baptized, take communion, join a good church, get circumcised, and obey the commandments to the best of our ability, God will judge us and our works, and will accept us if we are sincere and try our best! It's really neat to live by faith and works!

Love and kisses,
Pastor Phil Ajius

So... is it fair game to rip that note to shreds, with Biblical analysis?

But what if people say, "You have to see the video of the sermon. It gives a totally different context. It is completely sound."

Yes, well, maybe it is. In fact, in this illustration, it is! The sermon was perfect!

The problem is not that work, it is this work. And this work is totally unsound. because there is no context that will save that work from a sound and deserved drubbing.

Application

The problem isn't people who fairly and closely analyze inane things Wright says. Nor is a problem with people who fairly analyze Chan, as I tried to do.

The problem belongs to those communicators'. They own it. The problem is what they write or say. They voluntarily took the role of leadership on themselves. If they regret what they said, if it was horrid and bumbled and misleading, they should just say so, apologize, humble themselves, learn a lesson.

There isn't any excuse for what I faulted in Chan's letter. People look up to him. Taken seriously, what he says in that note has really troubling implications, as I tried to show. There isn't any "context" that will make those things OK.

Now, anyone and everyone will note that I never said that either Chan or his entire ministry should forever be banned or condemned for this one letter. The letter is a problem. The letter is a problem.

Concluding ironies

1. Over at Pyro, we caught unholy heck because we defended Chan for a Gospel video he did a couple-few years ago. Now I fault this problematic letter he sent... and I catch a little heck. Life's funny. Someone should sell tickets.
2. Odd that I was very cautious in analyzing Chan's letter, while some of my critics were far less cautious in analyzing my analysis.
3. I am expected to take an hour to watch the video. Why? The problem is Chan's letter. I wonder if those same people are asking Chan to take a lot less than an hour to read my post.
4. Why do I have to view other Chan oeuvres to criticize one letter, when my critics aren't required to read my whole corpus before criticizing one post?

Depression (bi-polar and otherwise) and jerkiness

I don't really have a feel for Mike Adams as a writer. He alludes to attending church; his bio says he's an ex-atheist and has an MA in Psychology; he publishes on Townhall, so he's some kind of conservative... but that's about it.

Adams just wrote You Aren't Bipolar, You're Just a Jerk! If you're interested in the topics of depression in general, or bipolar illness in particular, give it a read, then come back. If neither interests you, feel free to give this post a pass. But please read Adams first if you mean to read on here. (And btw, if you start, try to finish it — I think he takes a few unexpected turns.)

*** *** *** *** ***

All done? Welcome back.

I find Adams' post a maddening mix of the brilliant and the irresponsible. There are countless folks who really do need to read it, take it to heart, stop hiding themselves behind lame excuses, get the heck over themselves, and grow the heck up. They might also read this post, and get a clue.

But equally there are others who would read it, and simply be crushed and broken by his uncaring, ham-fisted, over-simplistic over-generalizations.

Remember: "Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda" (Proverbs 25:20).

Also remember: "Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep" (Romans 12:15).

Bipolar? I don't understand "bipolar illness," the current name for what used to be called manic-depression. But I knew a sufferer very well, years ago, and weathered several cycles with this poor soul. I could not for the life of me draw the line between the "OK-(s)he-can-do-something-about-this" and the "only-medication-can-help." I'm pretty confident both are there — given the catatonic state I witnessed on the one hand, and the frenetic, days-without-sleep, on-cocaine-without-the-cocaine behavior.

Depression? I know depression a little better, more's the pity, because I've been there. I was there deeply, and for years. That was years ago, thank God, but the memory is as vivid as the monitor in front of my eyes. And I'm still more inclined to melancholy than its reverse. ("Full of angst" was a startlingly on-target observation a dear friend once made.)

During one particular extended period, I did everything Adams said. I gave myself for others, again and again and again. It made me feel more depressed and alone. I exercised, every day, sweat pouring off me. I prayed. I memorized.

Now, I can also tell you things I should have done differently. My point is neither that I was the helpless victim of an external force, nor that I even really fully understand what happened.

My point is that simplistic, hand-dusting, "There-that-ought-to-fix-it" formulas (when presented in that manner) probably do more harm than good.

People are different. (Deep, eh? I'm full of stuff like that. It just flows.)

I can prove it.

Look at Ezekiel and Jeremiah. Totally different temperaments.

Look at Nehemiah and Ezra. Totally different temperaments. (Further, check this post.)

Look at Johns MacArthur and Piper. These worthy, productive, God-loving gents were being interviewed at a conference. Piper mentioned a period of depression he had gone through that had lasted years.

Pause.

"Years?" came MacArthur's incredulous question.

See, these men are just put together different. MacArthur simply cannot imagine being down or blue for that long. It isn't in his makeup.

But obviously Piper can. And obviously I can. For myself, I wish I were more like MacArthur than Piper in this regard. But ah, well. I am what I am, and that's what I need to deal with.

Obviously this could be a very long post, and it isn't going to be. I'll just close with a few thoughts.

1. A depressed person should talk with his pastor. He should read Scripture. He might check out Lloyd-Jones' Spiritual Depression. He could try what Adams suggests, all of which are good ideas as far as they go.
2. If those measures, undertaken seriously and prayerfully and with persistence, don't address it, maybe it's something else.
3. People trying to help depressed people should study Scriptures about patience, longsuffering, and compassion. They should eschew simplistic quick-fixes. What worked for you may not work for someone else; if it doesn't, it doesn't mean you're better than someone else.
4. Remember, identical symptoms can have totally different causes. Here's Bob. Bob says he is a Christian. Bob is plagued with guilt. What to do? Simple, right? Tell him the blood of Jesus covers all his sins, he's saved by grace, leave it at the Cross, and move on, right? Right — unless Bob is plagued with guilt because he is walking in known, unrepented sin; unless Bob is shaking his fist in God's face every day. In that case, Bob doesn't need comfort. He needs repentance. He may even need to become a Christian.

So, was this post everything I can say about depression?

No sir, no ma'am.

It was just a few thoughts provoked by Adams' column.

Now, discuss.

UPDATE: there is now a re-posted companion-piece over at Pyro.

A 2 Timothy 2:15 parable

You are undergoing a very complicated bit of major surgery. The outcome could help you a lot. Or, if it goes wrong, it could leave you paralyzed, in constant pain, severely crippled, or dead.

Due to the unusual nature of the procedure, you remain conscious but immobilized and mute throughout the surgery.

All the shaving and daubing and anesthetizing has been done, and you are wheeled into the theater. A team awaits. There is the surgeon.

"You're in excellent hands," a nurse says. All the other attending professionals agree.

The surgeon leans over you. "Nothing to worry about, nothing at all," he says, and begins.

All is virtually silent, apart from occasional beeps and clicks. Then:

"Oops," the surgeon says.

Then, "Oh well."

Oh well?

A few minutes later, you hear, "Nurse, hand me that... that thingie. That whatsis. You know, the bogotron. I think that's what I'm looking for."

Bogotron? You're pretty sure that's a made-up word. You hear some unsettling slicing and sloshing... then a sudden splip!

"Hunh," the surgeon says in a bemused tone. "Ah... I don't think we needed that anyway."

After which you hear a swoosh and a splop!, as something moist lands in a can off to your right.

"Okay, I think this is what I'm looking for," the surgeon murmurs. "Or... wasn't it supposed to be smaller? This looks big. Janitor, does this look big to you?" Someone mutters incomprehensibly. You think English probably wasn't his native language. There's some rough laughter. The surgeon joins in. When he leans back into your field of vision, he's wiping mirthful tears from his eyes.

"Ah me, I've never had so much fun!" he exclaims, then hunches back over your abdominal area. "Let's see... where was I? Oh crud, that thingie's sunk back in there. Crud crud crud, I'll never find it now. Well, this one probably is just as good. I don't like its color, anyway. Nurse, hand me that... that... that shiny sharp dealie. No, not that - well, never mind, that'll do, I'm pretty sure. I've wanted to use that anyway, see what it does. Now's as good a time as ever."

How do you feel about your surgery now?

(This parable tags on to this.)

On Peter Masters' rant: in which I add only one small thought to Messrs. Turk and Wilson

I was very disappointed to read this rant by Pastor Peter Masters, who I think is a good brother, and who I know is successor to the great Charles H. Spurgeon at the Metropolitan Tabernacle. I had some thoughts I wanted to share. But for a couple of reasons, I held back temporarily.

Then I saw that Frank Turk said just about everything I wanted to say, only better. So I decided that, when I had the chance, I'd add the one little thing I wanted to add.

But then I saw that Doug Wilson pretty much covered that, as well, except for one specific. However, in his covering, Wilson did bring one little nag at the back of my mind to the forefront.

So, first, the specific:

As disappointing and largely wrongheaded as Masters' rant is (basically he dismisses "new Calvinists" because he doesn't like their music style and their worship style), I am afraid he is at least somewhat in Spurgeon's tradition.


Just, unfortunately, not in Spurgeon's best tradition.

It was an odd thing. Spurgeon enjoyed cigars, even though his practice scandalized orthodox brothers on (what they imagined were) grounds of morality and worldliness. He was bold and unapologetic. I think Spurgeon was right.

At the same time, Spurgeon was death on theater-going. The Bible says precisely as much about theater-going as it does about cigar-smoking: zero. Yet he was thunderously condemnatory. Perhaps his most memorable statement was this:

The evangelical faith in which you and Mr. Beecher agree is not the faith which I hold; and the view of religion which takes you to the theater is so far off from mine that I cannot commune with you therein.

Unless I badly misunderstand him (and have for years on this), Spurgeon is saying that Beecher cannot be a Christian. Is not saved. Why? Because of immorality (Biblically-defined), or defective views on the Bible or the person and work of Christ?

No. Because he feels free to go to the theater.

As I say, Masters is in that tradition. It just isn't a good tradition.

Now, here's the little thought Wilson brought to the forefront of my mind. Masters complains, of modern would-be Calvinist preachers:

They reject the concern for the personal guidance of God in the major decisions of Christians (true sovereignty), thereby striking a death-blow to wholehearted consecration.

To that, Wilson offers this tart and dead-on retort:

And this from a man who a moment before was chastizing the charismatic element in the behavior of the new Reformed! It is bad to lift hands to the Lord like the charismatics (and like John Calvin, but let that pass), but it is not bad to make personal life-decisions as though the gift of prophecy were still operative today? A personal word from God, your name on the envelope and all, is necessary to true consecration? Why can't you just do what the Bible tells you to do?

I wondered who Masters was thinking of when I read this. I know he knows Phil; I guess he might occasionally visit Pyromaniacs. The person in that neighborhood who has pounded this particular bongo-drum the most furiously lately would be the Calvinist Spurgeon-loving guy who wrote this and this and this and this.

But honestly, that guy is such a small fish (as commenter #11 on this meta quite correctly observes), that I realized it probably would be Kevin DeYoung, whose book (you may recall) I loved.

Making Kevin DeYoung another bad Calvinist.

In which case I say, "Please, God, more bad Calvinists!"

Driscoll TGC 2009 impressions

Just finished listening to Mark Driscoll's talk at the The Gospel Coalition 2009, and here are my thoughts:

1. He said some good things.
2. Wow. Dude really does think he's a martyr. I mean seriously.
   
3. If I were a young guy, hanging on every word and earnestly purposing to do everything Driscoll was saying... I'd be completely lost at sea. So many of the things he said just tangled back up on themselves. I'd have to have a transcript to illustate extensively. But I remember kind of chuckling when Driscoll was talking about "those people who say 'Thank you God that I'm not like those people!'" Yes, well, indeed; thank God we're not like those people who thank God they're not like those people! Because that would be bad!
4. I honestly wonder whether Driscoll knew how much he contradicted himself, just in the course of the talk. Or is that why he kept saying he did those bad things, too? Or was that a device to make it okay for him to say it? I really don't know.
5. I honestly think, in those young shoes, I'd have ended up with, "Well, I guess I just have to be Mark Driscoll. Because he's the only one who gets right what matters, what doesn't matter, when to 'throw down,' when to 'peace out'... and then say he repents, periodically. And do it some more. But everybody else is wrong! Everyone else is too doctrinal about the wrong things, too undoctrinal about the right things, too strident, too passive, too fixated, too limp...."
   
6. Does Driscoll listen to himself? Does he like what he hears?
7. Meaning no snark whatever, I think I would think, "Wow. Do I really want to sound just like those guys in Comedy Central?" I say "no snark," because maybe he does. I heard somewhere that he learned how to communicate from comedians. Maybe he thinks they're the ones who know how to connect with people, and that's his model. So, IOW, maybe he does want to sound exactly like them. Because he pretty much does.
   
8. Even worse, I really think I'd wonder if I really want to think like those guys on Comedy Central. Because a lot of the things Driscoll said were just cute. Period. Plus nothing. They were laugh-lines. Think about them for two seconds, ask one serious question, they collapse.
9. You can't not see the Driscoll/Johnson/MacArthur interchange in the background. Driscoll means us to, clearly. "Rapist." Yeah, that was subtle, Mark. And he means us to believe that he's really, really, really trying to be a good boy and suffer for Jesus. But I have to say: just not buying. It felt a more like venting, to make himself feel better. One Dan's opinion.
   

• Driscoll talks a lot about repenting and all. Phil Johnson asked him, "Of what, specifically?" Is it a good thing that Driscoll never answered Phil? Specifically?
  
• Driscoll and apologists seem to (try to) make a lot of the fact that John MacArthur didn't pick up the phone and ask Driscoll out to Starbucks or an Ultimate Fight game or something. Even granting that (which I don't) — then why didn't Driscoll do what he thought Phil or MacArthur shouldn't have done? Isn't that Matthew 7:12-y, and 1 Peter 3:9-ish? Piper's a significant voice, but MacArthur isn't? Johnson isn't? Why couldn't Driscoll have picked up the phone and asked MacArthur or Johnson out to... to whatever, if that's the way he thinks it has to be done? Is ignoring the specific pleas and concerns, and playing the martyr, a better way to "make the Gospel win," as he kept saying?
• Where would this discussion be today if Driscoll had just responded as promptly, directly, Christianly, and forthrightly as MacArthur and Johnson had reached out to him?
• ...or if those who "mentor" him had pressed him to do so, and followed through?

I'm left with a bad, sick feeling about the whole thing. I can't see his heart, and I truly, honestly won't guess. He sure gives every sign of a guy who just doesn't get it, who feels attacked and harrassed. Which he is, in all honestly. Driscoll is hated by the same people who would hate you and me, and for the same reason.

But this isn't about that. These are critics Driscoll needs to hear; but he thinks he needs to hunker down, endure, suffer, be a martyr, and fire back from under cover (as I think he did in this talk).

Since I don't know what's going on "backstage," I really wonder what his mentors are doing with him, saying to him. They are men who are mature and godly enough that they ought to be able to calm him down, translate, add any warmth they think is missing, but reaffirm the specifics.

If Driscoll doesn't deal honestly and frontally with good counsel he's gotten... I just don't see a happy future. Not for him, not for folks who look up to him... and I fear repercussions for the good men who've tried to help him.

Rural churches, seminarians, the Bible

Our commenter RT sent me a link to an article on the shortage of pastors in shrinking rural towns. Now, it's TIME magazine, so it may be all lies and fabrication... but in this case, I don't think so.

Briefly, the story is that the shrinkage of rural towns, and the movement of jobs, is creating a scarcity of support for "seminary-trained" pastors. And of course the article features apostates and false-teachers alternately wringing their hands or gleefully eying the opportunity.


The article provides no Biblical interaction — so I'll try to do so.

No Bible verse urges nor implies the necessity of seminary education. I have such an education, I'm glad of it, but I've never thought that it is what either gifted or qualified me to be a pastor.

Decades ago I was in a Baptist church with a very professional, formal pastor, who often spoke of my then-future stint at Talbot as the time when I'd "begin" to prepare for pastoral ministry. At the time, I'd had four years at a church-based pastoral training institute, and had a Bachelor's via distance-education. I already knew Greek far better than he (no brag, just fact); and he didn't know Hebrew at all. I tried respectfully to correct him as to where I was in the training-trajectory, but the correction never "took."

Here are my reflections on the article:

1. Formal, Caesar-accredited seminary education is in no way a Biblical requirement for pastoral ministry.
2. The first requirement is that a man be a genuine convert to the Lord Jesus Christ. No seminary issues regeneration. The Lord effects it, and local churches can observe and confirm it.
   
3. The second requirement is that Christ have given a man as a pastor-teacher (Ephesians 4:11), and that he thus possess both the passion (1 Timothy 3:1) and the gift (cf. Romans 12:5-8 ; 1 Corinthians 12:28).
4. The prospective pastor must also possess the moral and spiritual character of a pastor-teacher (1 Timothy 3:1ff.; Titus 1:5-9).
5. Specifically and particularly, he must be able and willing to teach sound doctrine, whether in easy or difficult situations; he must be able to discern sound from sick doctrine; and he must be able to refute sick doctrine (this recurs constantly in the Pastorals, including 1 Timothy 1:3ff.; 2 Timothy 3; 4:1-4; Titus 1:9; 2:1, 15; 3:10-11).
6. While formal seminary education is one way to gain the qualifications laid out in #5, it is not the only way, nor is it the way specifically envisioned in the Bible.
7. The explicitly Biblical way is local-church apprenticeship (cf. 2 Timothy 2:2).
8. That doesn't mean that formal seminary education is evil or wrong; just that it is not a Biblical requirement.
9. The Biblical model for the appointment of elders is startlingly simple. Elders find gifted men in churches, and appoint them in those churches (Acts 14:23; Titus 1:5). Ta daa. That's it. Done.
10. Congregations should financially support such men fulltime (1 Corinthians 9:6-7, 14; 1 Timothy 5:17-18), but that is also not a Biblical requirement — a man may voluntarily waive fulltime salary (cf. 1 Corinthians 9:15-18; 2 Corinthians 12:13).

The upshot: I think these situations are rebukes of our abandonment of the Biblical model. Now, I'll say it again: there is nothing wrong with a man going to seminary, per se. I did it, and it is not on my long list of regrets.

But formal seminary education just is not necessary, and churches should not simply be shipping everyone off to Debtor's Prison or going without pastors because seminary grads can't afford to pastor them. I see this as an opportunity for Biblically-faithful churches to implement the Biblical model.

One parting shot: I fear that my stressing the not-absolutely-essential nature of formal seminary education will be mis-apprehended by some lazy souls. I think that, if you do not have such an education, you must nonetheless accomplish the equivalent under apprenticeship. You must know Hebrew and Greek, you must learn how to study, preach and teach, and how to care for souls. You must know theology. This is hard, hard work. I'm not issuing a get-out-of-work card.

If you point to Charles Spurgeon as an example of a man who had no formal seminary education, but who rather enjoyed a bit of fruit in his labor, I will heartily agree. But I will also point out that Spurgeon was better-read and better-studied at age 17 than most seminary-trained pastors are in their twentieth year, and that Spurgeon was a voracious reader and student until his last breath.

Spurgeon (and sanity) on pastor's wives

I've said similarly, but never better (italics his, bold added):

Churches do not give a married minister two salaries, one for the husband and the other for the wife; but, in many cases, they look for the services of the wife, whether they pay for them or not. The Pastor's wife is expected to know everything about the church, and in another sense she is to know nothing of it; and she is equally blamed by some people whether she knows everything or nothing. Her duties consist in being always at home to attend to her husband and her family, and being always out, visiting other people, and doing all sorts of things for the whole church! Well, of course, that is impossible; she cannot be at everybody's beck and call, and she cannot expect to please everybody. Her husband cannot do that, and I think he is very foolish if he tries to do it; and I am certain that, as the husband cannot please everybody, neither can the wife. There will be sure to be somebody or other who will be displeased, especially if that somebody had herself half hoped to be the minister's wife! Difficulties arise continually, in the best-regulated churches; and the position of the minister's wife is always a very trying one. Still, I think, that if I was a Christian young woman, I would marry a Christian minister if I could, because there is an opportunity of doing so much good in helping him in his service for Christ. It is a great assistance to the cause of God to keep the minister himself in good order for his work. It is his wife's duty to see that he is not uncomfortable at home; for, if everything there is happy, and free from care, he can give all his thoughts to his preparation for the pulpit; and the godly woman, who thus helps her husband to preach better, is herself a preacher though she never speaks in public, and she becomes to the highest degree useful to that portion of the Church of Christ which is committed to her husband's charge' (from his autobiography The Full Harvest)