One of the
differences between understanding Christian ministry as ministry versus leadership
is that ministry in Scripture is thought of in terms of renunciation. Since the 1980s, the language of ‘leadership’
has largely replaced the language of ‘ministry’, at least in Protestant,
Evangelical circles. My purpose here is
to explore one way in which a call to ministry is not a call to leadership. It involves renunciation, not the acquisition of authority.
When Jesus called
his first disciples, Luke tells us that they ‘left everything and followed him’
(5.11). Later, as a follow-up after
Jesus’ challenging words to the rich man who sought eternal life, Peter said to
Jesus that he and the other disciples had ‘left everything and followed’ him
(Mark 10.28; Matthew 19.27). Similarly,
Jesus affirms a model for ministry that involves renunciation. In fact, all who would be disciples of
Jesus were called to a radical renunciation, even of natural relationships if
they encumbered one’s following of Jesus.
Jesus said, ‘If anyone comes to me and does not hate
his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes,
and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own
cross and come after me cannot be my disciple’ (Luke 14.26-27). When one person pledged to follow Jesus
wherever he would go, Jesus replied, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air
have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head’ (Luke 9.58). Another would-be disciple asked to be allowed
to bury his father first. (While some
suggest the request has to do with waiting a longer time, according to the
Jewish practice later placing a deceased person’s bones in an ossuary, the
passage does not open itself up to reasonable interpretation but to radical
challenge.) Jesus responds, ‘Leave the
dead to bury their own dead’ (Luke 9.60).
A third, would-be disciple asks to be permitted first to say farewell to
his family, but Jesus replies, ‘No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks
back is fit for the kingdom of God’ (Luke 9.62).
Traditionally, ministry in the Church was understood as renunciation. Broadly speaking, ministry was thought of as a renunciation of the world. Benedictine monks would take vows of poverty,
chastity, and obedience. The trajectory
of renunciation ran strongly through centuries of thinking about ministry, even
to bizarre, extreme forms of asceticism not at all advocated here.
Asceticism mistakenly understands the value of renunciation to be in an
embrace of suffering for its own merit, rather than suffering as a possible, at times probable, consequence
of devotion and service. Asceticism is
not the point; the point is that ministry was conceived by Jesus as anything
but leadership. The origin of this
trajectory was in Jesus’ own definition of discipleship. For him, ‘leadership’ was the antithesis of
ministry. He told his disciples to pray for labourers, not leaders (Mt. 9.37-38).
The language of ‘ministry’ does not entail service out of
positions of authority or means. It
includes terms such as (1) labourers (cf. Mt. 9.37f//Lk. 10.2; Mt. 10.10//Lk.
10.7; Mt. 20.1ff; 1 Cor. 16.16; 1 Tim. 5.18); (2) slaves (e.g., Mk. 10.43-45);
(3) servants (e.g., Mt. 18.23ff; 23.22; 24.45ff; 25.14ff). A slave might have oversight and
responsibility, but not office and personal authority. If he has authority, it is derived authority,
as an ‘apostle’ or ambassador (one sent), and he serves God and delivers
the true Gospel. A slave is ‘under
the power/authority of another’ (the Roman, legal definition of slavery). The concept of leadership has to do with
acquiring authority and means, and ‘servant leadership’ involves serving others
out of such authority and means. A
leader does not renounce these but seeks to acquire these in order to lead
others. Jesus’ Messiahship, surprisingly,
was not about taking the reins of power in order to serve; it was about renouncing
equality with God, emptying himself, taking the form of a slave, humbling
himself, and being obedient to death, even death on a cross (Phil. 2.6-8). His ministry took place through renunciation.
None of what has been said implies a renunciation of learning or
the acquisition of skills. Studying the
Scriptures, gaining basic business skills, learning how to facilitate group
discussion or run a business meeting, becoming capable in guiding a service of worship, and so forth may well be necessary training for a minister. In Roman society, a slave might be sent
somewhere for training, and many households had a slave who taught the
children. The acquisition of skills and roles of oversight are not inconsistent with service. The mistake of conceiving of
ministry as ‘leadership’ is not the mistake of seeking adequate training to
serve well. The mistake comes in focusing
on the office or personal power of the leader rather than the function or
service of the minister. The result is
that, far too often, persons advance in levels of leadership, hold offices of
authority, and do less and less actual ministry as they reach lofty levels of
power in denominational headquarters or a senior ‘pastor’ position in a
megachurch that removes them increasingly from serving people. Advancement is defined in terms of increasing authority, pay, and privileges.
Perhaps this is why Jesus had no physical office, held no office
hours, preferred the countryside to the town and the town to the city, wandered
the hills of Galilee with his disciples, found quiet places to pray, and opposed all religious ‘leaders’
every time he met them. If we have come
to think that we need to train leaders for the Church in order to do the
ministry of the Church, perhaps we have forgotten that the ministry of the Church is to
people and not about office, power, and the running of programmes. The servant fulfills his duty by caring for the undesirable, needy 'Samaritan' lying in the street; the leader requires a large following with a healthy budget to operate programmes of ministry and so reach his potential.
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