I think its this mentality (at least in part) which feeds into the current multisite practice. The preaching pastor is the guy who shows up on screen each week. But we need someone to run the show, make things happen, and pray with someone who comes under conviction at the local church. So, we have the local administrative pastor. He gets up at the beginning of the service, sits down for the sermon, and joins the congregation for the praise time. He will get up again after the service, make a connection to the people and then send them on their way, perhaps with a benediction. So, you have the local administrative pastor who prays and meets with people (in the flesh) and then you have the preaching pastor (via satellite).

Now, I’m not such a curmudgeon that this rubs me the wrong way simply because its not how we’ve done it in the past. So, here are my questions about this approach: in Scripture, is there such a thing as a pastor who counsels but does not also preach? Is there such a thing as a pastor who teaches but does not also do administrative work? Is there such a thing as a pastor who sets the vision but does not also disciple Christians?

In response to these questions, I think that Titus provides an example of how not to fragment the office of pastor. What is Titus? Is he an administrative pastor, a preaching pastor, a visiting pastor, a youth pastor, or a counseling pastor?

Yes.

Paul placed Titus in charge of organizing the churches in Crete (v. 5). Titus was the man to do the administrative work of putting what remained in order. But he was also to teach and preach sound doctrine (2:1). Titus was also a pastor of youth and discipleship (2:6). He is also to rule the household of God well, counseling the sheep by exhorting and even rebuking them when necessary (2:15).

Is it possible for one pastor to do all those things? I venture to guess that Paul knew what he was saying when he charged Titus in this way. Though, to be sure, Titus was not alone in his work. He had others to help him. Like Moses, he would have had elders “in each town” to help him, and we can assume there were deacons as well if Paul’s letters to Timothy and Philippians are any indication. Dare we believe that these three offices alone are sufficient for the advancement of the church of Jesus Christ? But, I digress.

It is true that different ministers have different gifts and callings in the church. Not all ministers are pastors; some are evangelists and some are teachers (Ephesians 4:11). Paul was an evangelist, he went preaching from town to town, not even baptizing many of his converts (1 Corinthians 1:17). But Titus was pastor, or overseer, and as such he had to be the preacher, visionary, administrator, youth worker, and visitor of the sick. To put it bluntly, a man who preaches to his people but does not counsel/visit/disciple those same people is not a pastor in the biblical sense of the word.

When these tasks become fragmented, then things like multi-site churches become permissible. The ministry of the church has been divvied up and compartmentalized like a factory. You have one person doing quality control, another screwing in the bolts, someone else applying the labels, and so forth.

But, over against the multisite church (though not just the multisite church), the Bible seems to teach that the pastor is one man, with many tasks. God intended it that way. The individual tasks ought not to be abstracted from one another. When they are, there will be consequences. Titus not only preached to these people, but he also discipled them. After preaching to them on Sunday, he counseled them during the week. He ordained elders and deacons who were also trained and pastored by him.

I’ll close by giving an example. If I have someone in my congregation struggling with assurance, that will affect the way I preach my sermon on Sunday. If I counsel him on Tuesday, and he shares with me his doubts, on Sunday that will be in my mind as I stare in his eyes and proclaim to him the glorious and comforting truths of God’s gracious and enduring love in Jesus Christ. I can’t do that staring into a camera and being broadcasted on a screen. In fact, I would say that if we refuse to fracture the pastor by placing his various tasks in abstraction, then it would be impossible for us to engage in a multi-site model.

Barth takes a decidedly different approach to what the image of God in man is from the tradition. In fact, it seems a good deal of his influence is Dietrich Bonhoeffer rather than the Reformed confessions or even broadly Protestant dogmatic tradition. Whereas the tradition taught that the image consisted of original righteousness, holiness, and knowledge, Barth emphasizes the idea of relation in act.

The first principle to keep in mind, then, in understanding Barth’s doctrine of the image is that it is articulated in a thoroughly anti-metaphysical context. What does that mean? It means that Barth stands in the tradition of modern German protestant theology which grew increasingly suspicious of speculative medieval and Greek ontological formulations. This goes back to Schleiermacher and is a common concern through Ritschl and von Harnack. So, to put it simply, the image is NOT a substance or thing which man possesses. But if it is not a substance, a thing, then what is it?

That brings us to the second principle found in Barth’s doctrine of the image. The image is fundamentally a relationship. There is an I/Thou relationship in God. However, that relationship is not that of two individuals, but of one. In God there is contained in a whole the object-subject relationship. But this I/Thou relation in God has an analogue in man, who is himself relational.

That brings us to the third principle. Man images God by virtue of his male/female relation. Man confronts man in the male/female relationship. This is the I/Thou relationship which imitates God who is himself an I/Thou, object/subject, relationship. Barth makes much of this. This IS the image of God in man. Man is the imago dei only and in so much as he is male and female.

And, finally, the image of God is Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is himself the I/Thou relationship. He IS the male/female relation in that he is never an abstract person. But is always an everywhere the groom of his bride, the community of faith. He is the I-groom in eternal relation with his Thou-bride. He is the the solution to the age-old subject/object relation. He IS the eternal divine I who eternally relates with the human Thou in the everlasting knowledge of God as the one who is with us in a third time of redemption.

Makes, sense, right? Um, er, or does it? You decide!

• Epistemological – what is the status of the believer’s and unbeliever’s knowledge?
• Eschatological – what has Christ redeemed at this point in redemptive history and what, if anything, will remain from it in the new heavens and the new earth?
• Ecclesiological – what is the proper relationship of the church to non-church culture?

Epistemological

I consider it fortunate that on this site I don’t need to introduce Van Til, so hopefully a few familiar concepts will suffice in pointing out a few Reformed epistemological fundamentals. First and not surprisingly, Rom 1:18f is a great place to start. Unbelievers possess the truth about God clearly described in v. 20 while they also suppress that same truth and behave in the ways described in v. 21f. Which unbelievers is Paul describing? If unrighteousness is the condition (v. 18) for suppression, Paul is describing whoever is unrighteous: all unbelievers. Unbelieving doctors, unbelieving hunters, unbelieving historians, unbelieving homemakers, etc.

Moving from the dynamic of simultaneous knowledge/suppression in Romans 1, Paul elaborates in 1 Cor 1:18-2:16 on the epistemological antithesis between believer and unbeliever. There is no trithesis, only two options: believing knowledge and unbelieving ignorance. What are the “things” of 1 Cor. 2:10 that God has revealed and how are they revealed? God reveals wisdom that is not of this temporary world, and he reveals His wisdom by his Spirit. The natural person of this age cannot understand them because he does not have the Spirit to discern them. So we see that when describing the epistemological situation of “humanity”, it makes all the difference in the world whether we refer in individual cases to a person who has the Spirit to discern or to a person who does not have the Spirit.

This is also why there should be no sharp separation between general revelation and special revelation, but between those who have the Spirit to receive rightly both modes of revelation and those who do not. The issue is not with the clarity of revelation, it is with the condition of those to whom it is revealed. Too often general revelation is defined as something like “that truth at which one arrives by virtue of neutral (perhaps God-given in some cases) reason.” Van Til is exceedingly helpful in clarifying this relationship in his essay “Nature and Scripture” where he elaborates on what the Westminster Confession teaches on revelation and gives us principles for a Reformed philosophy of history.

So how do we account for the achievements of unbelievers (much of which exceed the achievements of believers at times)? Does the epistemological antithesis have no effect? What is said above may be relevant when speaking directly of epistemology or religion, but what about in other spheres like dentistry, computer repair, athletics, bridge engineering, or the office of mayor? Simply because an engineer may never need to think about or articulate the epistemological context in which he finds himself in order to maintain the patterns acceptable within his vocation and field does not mean he has, in fact, no epistemological context. Not only does he take for granted things like order within the creation, ethical norms and practices, etc. but he also does so without affirming the Originator and rightful Owner of those foundations, Christ himself. It should also go without saying that “success” within any vocation is not first measured by whether one’s operations and achievements are acceptable within a given field (although it may include that), but by whether one is consistently living out the Christian faith within his or her vocation (which, admittedly in some vocations, may empirically look identical to an unbeliever who lives out his or her vocation contrary to the Christian faith). The heart is the spring from which thought and behavior flow, and the condition of the heart as either Spiritual or unspiritual will have an effect on thought and behavior, regardless of whether that effect is seen or unseen, visible or invisible.

There may be some who draw a false implication from this that Christians should then legalistically micro-scrutinize every thought and behavior to see whether it passes the test of “Christian” or “unChristian.” That is a test that has already been passed for us. Believers are in Christ and a new creation, redeemed, given a regenerate heart and indwelt by the Spirit. Of course believers still sin, but we are now able not to sin, and this has profound implications for covenant-keepers. The behavioral details in the life of the believer may often come down to an issue of biblical wisdom, and this is where the dynamic between God’s law and Christian liberty must be thought through carefully in individual cases.

Another false implication may be that because of what is said above, we must avoid any secular vocation or field, or perhaps give up any notion of our “success” in a secular field or vocation and merely keep our head down while getting by as a Christian in an unbelieving sphere. Nothing is further from the truth, and perhaps an example would serve well here. Alvin Plantinga, generally undisputed by both believers and unbelievers to be in the very top tier of philosophers in the 20th/21st centuries, writes the following in his “Advice to Christian Philosophers”:

First, it isn’t just in philosophy that we Christians are heavily influenced by the practice and procedures of our non-Christian peers. (Indeed, given the cantankerousness of philosophers and the rampant disagreement in philosophy it is probably easier to be a maverick there than in most other disciplines.) The same holds for nearly any important contemporary intellectual discipline: history, literary and artistic criticism, musicology, and the sciences, both social and natural. In all of these areas there are ways of proceeding, pervasive assumptions about the nature of the discipline (for example, assumptions about the nature of science and its place in our intellectual economy), assumptions about how the discipline should be carried on and what a valuable or worthwhile contribution is like and so on; we imbibe these assumptions, if not with our mother’s milk, at any rate in learning to pursue our disciplines. In all these areas we learn how to pursue our disciplines under the direction and influence of our peers.

But in many cases these assumptions and presumptions do not easily mesh with a Christian or theistic way of looking at the world. This is obvious in many areas: in literary criticism and film theory, where creative anti-realism (see below) runs riot; in sociology and psychology and the other human sciences; in history; and even in a good deal of contemporary (liberal) theology. It is less obvious but nonetheless present in the so-called natural sciences. The Australian philosopher J. J. C. Smart once remarked that an argument useful (from his naturalistic point of view) for convincing believers in human freedom of the error of their ways is to point out that contemporary mechanistic biology seems to leave no room for human free will: how, for example, could such a thing have developed in the evolutionary course of things? Even in physics and mathematics, those austere bastions of pure reason, similar questions arise. These questions have to do with the content of these sciences and the way in which they have developed. They also have to do with the way in which (as they are ordinarily taught and practiced) these disciplines are artificially separated from questions concerning the nature of the objects they study-a separation determined not by what is most natural to the subject matter in question, but by a broadly positivist conception of the nature of knowledge and the nature of human intellectual activity.

And thirdly, here, as in philosophy, Christians must display autonomy and integrality. If contemporary mechanistic biology really has no place for human freedom, then something other than contemporary mechanistic biology is called for; and the Christian community must develop it. If contemporary psychology is fundamentally naturalist, then it is up to Christian psychologists to develop an alternative that fits well with Christian supernaturalism-one that takes its start from such scientifically seminal truths as that God has created humankind in his own image.

Of course I do not presume to tell Christian practitioners of other disciplines how properly to pursue those disciplines as Christians. (I have enough to spare in trying to discern how to pursue my own discipline properly.) But I deeply believe that the pattern displayed in philosophy is also to be found in nearly every area of serious intellectual endeavor. In each of these areas the fundamental and often unexpressed presuppositions that govern and direct the discipline are not religiously neutral; they are often antithetic to a Christian perspective. In these areas, then, as in philosophy, it is up to Christians who practice the relevant discipline to develop the right Christian alternatives. [italics mine]

One can argue how consistent Plantinga is in his writings on this particular matter, but that discussion aside, I think he articulates well some fundamental truths regarding vocational pursuit as a Christian.

Next: Eschatology.

Christians should always be distinguished from unbelievers subjectively: they do all things by faith in Christ and for his glory. But as an objective matter, the standards of morality and excellence in the common kingdom are ordinarily the same for believers and unbelievers: they share these standards in common under God’s authority in the covenant with Noah (p. 31).

So far, for me, the book was reading along quite nicely. I was fully on board. In fact, I still find myself immensely appreciative of a 2K perspective, especially where they emphasize the spirituality of the Church and her status as a pilgrim people, sojourning and exiled on the earth. Furthermore, I have read Kline’s writings and am in general agreement with the way he relates the Noahic and Abrahamic covenants and covenants of common grace and special grace, respectively. Furthermore, I still have much more of DVD’s works which I need to read before offering a fuller and fairer assessment.

However, I am afraid that the above quote may prove to be an Achilles heel for his otherwise sound biblical-theological project. If by “objective standards” under which both believer and unbeliever stand, DVD means God’s natural law, or general revelation, then I cannot sign on to his claim. Allow me to give an example.

Let’s say I am a scientist at a pharmaceutical company (our gracious God knows we have plenty of those here in New Jersey!). Furthermore, there is another scientist in my lab as well, but she is not a believer. To be sure, as DVD points out, we will engage our cultural—common realm—work of performing experiments to find a drug for (let’s say) the common cold (suffered by both believers and unbelievers!) in radically different ways subjectively. Perhaps she will be work at her experiments so that she can receive a patent and score some big bucks. Or, maybe she wants to be famous. Or maybe she has a genuine love for humanity and is really sick (!) and tired of seeing humans suffer terribly from head colds and related diseases. But the Christian’s standard is not those things, subjectively. His standard, first and foremost, is to Glorify God in his work.

But objectively, can we say they both have the same standard? To be sure, God’s law written on their hearts is binding on the both of them. God’s created laws of physics and chemistry bind them both to do good and proper science. God’s moral law on their hearts and his image in them dictates how it is wrong to steal other people’s ideas and claim them as their own. But are there not also laws which are not given in natural law which are objective that also cause an antithesis between them in the lab? Take for instance the Christian Sabbath. It is an objective dividing marker which is not contained in general revelation or natural law (while the idea of Sabbath observance is, the Christian Sabbath on Sunday which is due to the resurrection of Christ is contained only in special revelation). The unbeliever in the lab should be resting on Sunday in worship of God, but she is at the lab ambitiously pursuing her patent. The Christian is at church. As an objective matter, their standards of morality are not the same. In other words, natural revelation/law alone is not always sufficient for morality in the public sphere.

That is only one example. What about family life? At best, natural revelation/law tells us in our conscience to be sexually faithful to our spouses. While that is necessary for both scientists (me and the unbeliever), it is not sufficient. There is more to marriage than sexual fidelity. The Bible (an objective form of morality) tells us that a husband is to love his wife, seeking to be tender to her. Furthermore, the wife is to be submissive to the husband as the church is to Christ. Now, that commandment is not in general revelation. And to be sure, the indicative which grounds these imperatives is redemptive. And the unbeliever knows nothing of redemption in Christ. Yet, would we say that the unbelieving scientist is not to be submissive to her husband because she is not a believer? Is she really guilt free for being at the lab advancing her career when her husband needs her back at home to take care of whatever it is that need taking care of? Would I be wrong to correct my fellow scientist telling her (in a loving and godly way) that she should not work on Sunday and that she should be submissive to her husband? Yeah, I know, in today’s world that would go over like a lead balloon. But the point is this: Does not God’s special revelation bind the unbeliever morally as much as does natural revelation? Is there really such thing as a common objective morality alone in the public sphere? Or, must special revelation always accompany it? Can we really make objective verses subjective distinctions in this way without compromising the antithesis which exists—objectively!— in the common realm between believer and unbeliever? The Bible does, will, and should make a visible, objective difference in the common pursuits of the believer.

For this reason, I am skeptical of DVD’s project at this point. Again, that is not to say he and the 2KT position in general are not making valid points. They are. And the church needs to hear them. But I do think this bifurcation of special and general revelation in the common realm unnecessarily throws a monkey wrench into the 2K works.

Even as I advocate strenuously for my own reading of Barth, I must calmly admit that the Church Dogmatics is patient of multiple interpretations. Even as I stand in the so-called revisionist camp, I am obliged to admit the viability of “traditionalist” readings. The force of this obligation does not bespeak interpretative humility or charitableness on my part, nor is it symptomatic of poststructuralist convictions about textual indeterminacy. Quite the contrary: it is an obligation grounded in the belief that varied, even conflicting readings of Barth’s magnum opus are a function of the text itself, are a consequence of Barth’s distinctive approach to dogmatic work (p. 157).

I think the next question that arises from Jones’ suggestion is, “Did Barth intend his text to have this effect or was it a failure to communicate his position clearly?” I know several readers of this site will have an opinion.

You see, I’ve always gone to bed early and gotten up relatively early. I’ve had few hobbies. I was neither a mountain climber nor a photographer, nor did I lead an intense social life. So if you spend your days in a certain eremetical way of life, then you don’t need to get up very early or work late at night, and if God gives you the opportunity, you can work calm and undisturbed, and very easily do the work that I did. This has not been so tragic.¹

1. Rahner, Karl. I Remember: An Autobiographical Interview with Meinold Krauss. New York: Crossroad, 1985, p. 61.