Who Ordained You a Minister Over Me?
February 4, 2012
I was recently reminded of a very thoughtful post from a little while ago at The Internet Monk. It is a most helpful reminder of a problem that the church has had since at least the advent of the printing press: if teaching in church is to be assigned to, and overseen by, men ordained to that task, how does one handle teaching by outsiders?
For full disclosure, I rarely read books by people in my own denomination. There are many talented contemporary writers, and it would arguably be an act of ingratitude not to benefit from the minds that God has given to the church at large, both of the present day and of previous eras. Thus, most of my reading comes from authors outside of the jurisdiction of the OPC. That is a good thing: I rejoice to live at a time when I can benefit immensely from Christians of all times and all places. That is what being a catholic Christian is all about.
But is also imposes responsibilities on all of us involved in public teaching: in a world where teaching in one place can so quickly be influential in another, how does the New Testament pattern of accountability apply? That is hard to answer and has been so since Luther's theses were printed and then spread across Saxony.
Even more important: when we are dealing with large parachurch organisations, it behooves those in authority to be especially careful in their choice of associations. For example, if you organise a conference aimed at the church, the speaker may not be ordained to teach in my congregation. That is not in itself a problem; but if you market him to the church at large, the likelihood is that, though never physically present, he nonetheless does teach my congregation and that he does so with your imprimatur. That gives me a stake in your game, so to speak; and it places huge responsibility on you to listen to my concerns and to respond to them appropriately.
The Elephant Room should be irrelevant: my denomination was not represented at the table; and none of the congregation where I serve on session were in attendance. Yet the fact that some of the participants enjoy the imprimatur of a large parachurch organisation headed up by good, reliable men meant that I do have an interest in what was said before, during and after. The event carried more cachet than otherwise because of that imprimatur or brand.
Thankfully, even Andy Warhol would probably be impressed at how brief fame is these days. I suspect that in a year's time, the Elephant Room will be a distant memory for most and the question `T.D. who?' will be heard in church foyers up and down the land whenever the diet book is mentioned. Life will be going on for most of us as it was before. That is why it would be a shame if the really key issue in all of this is lost.
That issue is not ultimately the orthodoxy or heterodoxy of the participants, significant as that may be. It is rather the way parachurch organisations choose to place their imprimaturs on things. All of us involved in parachurch groups need to reflect on this, though obviously the bigger the organisation, the more aggressively it markets itself as the next big thing, and the more like a denomination it looks, the more there is need for careful, critical self-examination.
In churches -- at least in the churches to which I have had connection -- a high premium has always been placed on transparency, procedure and wide accountability. Little is done behind closed doors. Sometimes it makes things seem tedious. This last Saturday I spent eight hours at a presbytery meeting; after a week at work and with two sermons to preach on Sunday, I would rather have been in and out in half an hour. Yet the time spent was important: everything was done transparently, decently and in order. Any member of the church could have sat in on our discussions and seen how we handled the various matters before us. That is critical as the means both by which we are able to maintain the trust of the congregant who has a concern and also by which we are held accountable to those who actually make up the church.
The real lesson of the Elephant Room is not actually doctrinal. Rather, it is a timely reminder that Christian leaders are responsible, under God, to Christian people; and the key question for parachurch organisations therefore is: who decides who runs the show; how do they make their decisions; what is your organisation's doctrinal position; and what are the processes by which the leaders of your organisation are held to that position. If the Christian public fund you, and you assume teaching authority outside of ecclesiastical structures, the least you should do is give cogent answers to these things. Process and transparency are basic to proper ecclesiastical accountability; I believe that all involved in parachurches owe it to the churches and people they influence and to which they assume the right to speak to make sure that public criteria of doctrine and process are clearly in place and transparently followed. The question, Who ordained you a minister over me? is an acute one, and likely to become more so in an era of information technology and hard-sell parachurch marketing.
For full disclosure, I rarely read books by people in my own denomination. There are many talented contemporary writers, and it would arguably be an act of ingratitude not to benefit from the minds that God has given to the church at large, both of the present day and of previous eras. Thus, most of my reading comes from authors outside of the jurisdiction of the OPC. That is a good thing: I rejoice to live at a time when I can benefit immensely from Christians of all times and all places. That is what being a catholic Christian is all about.
But is also imposes responsibilities on all of us involved in public teaching: in a world where teaching in one place can so quickly be influential in another, how does the New Testament pattern of accountability apply? That is hard to answer and has been so since Luther's theses were printed and then spread across Saxony.
Even more important: when we are dealing with large parachurch organisations, it behooves those in authority to be especially careful in their choice of associations. For example, if you organise a conference aimed at the church, the speaker may not be ordained to teach in my congregation. That is not in itself a problem; but if you market him to the church at large, the likelihood is that, though never physically present, he nonetheless does teach my congregation and that he does so with your imprimatur. That gives me a stake in your game, so to speak; and it places huge responsibility on you to listen to my concerns and to respond to them appropriately.
The Elephant Room should be irrelevant: my denomination was not represented at the table; and none of the congregation where I serve on session were in attendance. Yet the fact that some of the participants enjoy the imprimatur of a large parachurch organisation headed up by good, reliable men meant that I do have an interest in what was said before, during and after. The event carried more cachet than otherwise because of that imprimatur or brand.
Thankfully, even Andy Warhol would probably be impressed at how brief fame is these days. I suspect that in a year's time, the Elephant Room will be a distant memory for most and the question `T.D. who?' will be heard in church foyers up and down the land whenever the diet book is mentioned. Life will be going on for most of us as it was before. That is why it would be a shame if the really key issue in all of this is lost.
That issue is not ultimately the orthodoxy or heterodoxy of the participants, significant as that may be. It is rather the way parachurch organisations choose to place their imprimaturs on things. All of us involved in parachurch groups need to reflect on this, though obviously the bigger the organisation, the more aggressively it markets itself as the next big thing, and the more like a denomination it looks, the more there is need for careful, critical self-examination.
In churches -- at least in the churches to which I have had connection -- a high premium has always been placed on transparency, procedure and wide accountability. Little is done behind closed doors. Sometimes it makes things seem tedious. This last Saturday I spent eight hours at a presbytery meeting; after a week at work and with two sermons to preach on Sunday, I would rather have been in and out in half an hour. Yet the time spent was important: everything was done transparently, decently and in order. Any member of the church could have sat in on our discussions and seen how we handled the various matters before us. That is critical as the means both by which we are able to maintain the trust of the congregant who has a concern and also by which we are held accountable to those who actually make up the church.
The real lesson of the Elephant Room is not actually doctrinal. Rather, it is a timely reminder that Christian leaders are responsible, under God, to Christian people; and the key question for parachurch organisations therefore is: who decides who runs the show; how do they make their decisions; what is your organisation's doctrinal position; and what are the processes by which the leaders of your organisation are held to that position. If the Christian public fund you, and you assume teaching authority outside of ecclesiastical structures, the least you should do is give cogent answers to these things. Process and transparency are basic to proper ecclesiastical accountability; I believe that all involved in parachurches owe it to the churches and people they influence and to which they assume the right to speak to make sure that public criteria of doctrine and process are clearly in place and transparently followed. The question, Who ordained you a minister over me? is an acute one, and likely to become more so in an era of information technology and hard-sell parachurch marketing.
