LEAD 510 Biblical Leadership Theme Report
The student will submit two (2) 5-page reports pertaining to the major leadership themes stemming from the Forrest/Roden textbook reading assignments. Each paper must contain a title page, 1-page introduction, 3-page summary analyses of major leadership themes, and a 1-pageconclusion and bibliography/reference page. The report must be in the style format pertaining to the student’s degree program
After reading through the 14 chapters dedicated to the N.T. provide a concise summary of 3 major themes per testament. Summarize each theme but more importantly provide an analysis identifying the reasons why each theme is especially important to you or to our generation in regards to practicing Godly leadership no matter the context of one’s vocation or location.
THEME: Power in the Service of Others
Joseph H. Hellerman
During his second missionary journey, Paul crossed over from Asia to Europe to share the gospel in Macedonia. On the first Sabbath after they arrived, Paul and Silas won a God-fearer named Lydia to the Lord. The missionaries soon attracted the attention of local authorities, when Paul cast out “a spirit of divination” from a slave girl who had “brought her owners much gain by fortune-telling” (Acts 16:16–18). The girl’s owners dragged Paul and Silas into the marketplace, where they were charged with advocating “customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to accept or practice” (v. 21). The magistrates “inflicted many blows upon them” and threw Paul and Silas into prison.
That night an earthquake freed the missionaries from prison, and the Philippian jailer and his household became followers of Jesus. The next day, the magistrates sent word to release the missionaries. Luke’s narrative suddenly takes a striking turn, when Paul responds as follows:
They have beaten us publicly, uncondemned, men who are Roman citizens, and have thrown us into prison; and do they now throw us out secretly? No! Let them come themselves and take us out (v. 37).
The magistrates became “afraid when they heard that they were Roman citizens,” they apologized to Paul and Silas, and they begged them to leave Philippi (vv. 38–39).
The story of Paul’s ministry in Philippi is captivating in so many ways—the exorcism, the earthquake, the conversion of the jailer and his family, and not least, the striking status reversal that finds the local magistrates apologizing to the missionaries after initially treating them so harshly. Most informative for Paul’s convictions about Christian leadership, however, is an issue that Acts 16 leaves completely unaddressed:
Why did Paul and Silas not reveal their citizen status to the magistrates at the outset, and save themselves the beatings and imprisonment?
The answer to this question leads us to very the heart of Paul’s understanding of servant leadership. It depends, however, on some crucial background concerning the centrality of honor, and the importance of citizen status, in a Roman colony like Philippi.
Original Setting [1]
Roman Social Values
Rome was a highly stratified honor culture, with distinct classes defined by law. Public indicators of social status guaranteed that everyone would know “who was who” in a public setting. The various classes—senators, equestrians, decurions, citizens, noncitizens, slaves, freedmen—wore clothing that differed according to social status. For example, only a Roman citizen could wear the Roman toga. It was a capital crime for a noncitizen to pose as a citizen by wearing the toga. Senators and other officials had further markings on their clothing that identified them according to their privileged position in the social pecking order.
People also sat according to rank at public events and private parties. Persons of highest status, of course, had the best seats at the theater and gladiatorial games. The Romans even dispensed justice according to social status, meting out different punishments for the same crime depending on the defendant’s rank. Accordingly, a Roman citizen who committed a capital crime was beheaded; a noncitizen was crucified.
Romans leveraged their social capital to protect and augment the honor of their extended families. Roman males competed with their peers for honor, aggressively pursuing public offices and priesthoods, in order to lay claim to the prestigious titles that went along with them. Families then listed these titles on inscriptions and funerary monuments prominently placed in public settings throughout the empire.
The Romanness of Philippi
Philippi was an imperial colony, founded by the emperor Augustus during the first century bc. By the time Paul arrived in Philippi, some seven decades later, the formerly Greek settlement had been Romanized through and through.
Persons of every class in Philippi competed with their peers for coveted titles and offices, which the victors then displayed in “résumé-form” on inscriptions like this one, erected throughout the colony:
Publius Marius Valens, son of Publius, from the tribe Voltinia, honored with the decorations of a decurion, aedile, also decurion of Philippi, priest of the divine Antoninus Pius, duumvir, sponsor of games.[2]
The inscription catalogues the ascent of a second-century aristocrat through the various status levels available to a local elite in a colony like Philippi. Romans had a technical name for the social pecking order: cursus honorum, “a course (or “race”) of honors.” From this inscription we know that Publius was a Roman citizen from birth (“Voltinia” was his citizen tribe). Because he was born into a family that included persons who served as decurions (Philippi’s town council), he was “honored with the decorations of a decurion,” likely while still a child. Publius became a “decurion” himself as an adult, and soon won two important civic honors: the office of “aedile” and a priesthood in the imperial cult (“priest of the divine Antoninus Pius”). Finally, Publius became “duumvir” of Philippi, the highest civic office in the colony (the “magistrates” of Acts 16:20). It was in that role, presumably, that he financed a display of public entertainment for the municipality (“sponsor of games”).
Scholars have concluded, from more than seven hundred such inscriptions unearthed at the site, that Philippi was the most status-conscious town of all the locations Paul visited on his journeys.[3] This judgment is confirmed at several places in the account of the Paul’s ministry in the colony in Acts 16, where we discover that Luke was quite aware of the Romanness of Philippi.
Luke on Roman Philippi
First, Philippi is the only town that Luke explicitly identifies as “a Roman colony” (v. 11). This is striking to say the least, since Paul’s travels, as Acts describes them, take the apostle through at least eight other Roman colonies.[4] One of those was Corinth, where Paul remained “a year and six months” (18:11). Not a single one of these colonies—not even Corinth—is explicitly identified by the author as such. Luke reserves the designation “colony” solely for Philippi.
Secondly, only in Philippi are Paul and his team accused of advocating “customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to accept or practice” (v. 21). Paul did not change his tactics in Philippi. He preached the same gospel elsewhere, and he performed exorcisms in other towns as well. At Ephesus, moreover, Paul’s activities created an economic dilemma for local craftsmen that was in some ways analogous to the scenario with owners of the slave-girl at Philippi (Acts 19). Only in the colony at Philippi, however, is Paul explicitly accused of promulgating anti-Roman customs.
Thirdly, only in the Philippian narrative does Luke use official titles for the magistrates of the colony. A council of elite decurions governed the colony, with two key men at the top. The official Greek title for the two co-leaders was strategos, a designation Luke uses only here to identify officials in a Roman colony (esv, “magistrates” [vv. 20, 22, 35, 36, 38]). Luke also employs technical terminology in Acts 16 to refer to the “jailer” (desmophylax) (vv. 23, 27, 36) and the “police” (rabdouchos) (vv. 35, 38). Luke is clearly concerned with assigning official titles to the key players in the Philippians narrative.
None of this is accidental. (1) The explicit identification of Philippi as a “colony,” (2) the unique charge against the missionaries, and (3) the multiplication of official titles—phenomena found nowhere else in Acts—reflect Luke’s awareness of the Roman values that permeated social life in Philippi more than anywhere else Paul traveled in the Greek East. A fourth Lukan anomaly in Acts 16, the theme of Paul’s Roman citizenship, proves even more illuminating in our quest for the apostle’s theology of leadership.
The Centrality of Roman Citizenship
The most significant social distinction in the colony was that between citizen and noncitizen. It is estimated that approximately forty percent of the people in Philippi were Roman citizens. Each Roman colony, when it was founded, was typically identified with one of Rome’s citizen tribes. Philippi’s tribe was Voltinia, and those who possessed the franchise were proud of their Roman heritage.
One-half of the first- and second-century inscriptions unearthed at Philippi contain the abbreviation VOL (Voltinia), highlighting the person’s Roman citizen tribe. Even a two-year-old child had the expression engraved on his tombstone:
Nepos, son of . . . of the tribe Voltinia,
It is fair to conclude from the archaeological data that nowhere in the Roman East were the residents of a local municipality more concerned to proclaim their citizen status than in the colony at Philippi.
Once again, this accords remarkably well with what we encounter in Acts 16. For only at Philippi, among the places Paul visited on his three missionary journeys, does Roman citizenship become an issue in Luke’s narrative.[6]
Paul, Silas, and Citizen Status
As Roman citizens, the missionaries possessed a significant degree of social capital in the colony. The legal privileges associated with the franchise were particularly valued by Romans who found themselves in the provinces, far away from the capital city of Rome. Cicero explains:
Such trust have they in the single fact of their citizenship that they count on being safe, not only where they find our magistrates, who are restrained by the fear of law and public opinion, and not only among their own countrymen, to whom they are bound by the ties of a common language and civic rights and much else besides: no, wherever they find themselves, they feel confident that this one fact [their citizenship] will be their defence (In Verr. 2.5.167).
Peter Garnsey elaborates on the distinction between citizen and non-citizen, as it might manifest itself in a veteran colony like Philippi: “In a Roman colony it appears that arrest, beating, and imprisonment were normal for aliens, but that it was potentially dangerous to give citizens the same treatment.”[7]
The magistrates at Philippi assumed, of course, that Paul and Silas were “aliens” and treated them accordingly. When they found out otherwise, the officials became “afraid” (v. 38), and understandably so. For Rome had a tradition of prosecuting governors who mistreated her citizens in the provinces.
We return now to our initial question: Why did the missionaries not reveal their citizen status to the magistrates at the outset, and save themselves the beatings and imprisonment?
The answer is found in Paul’s determination to use power and authority, in whatever form, not to protect himself or to further his own agenda but, rather, in the service of the gospel, for the eternal good of his fellow human beings. For Paul, this is what it meant to be a servant leader.
Paul and Silas had the right, as Roman citizens, to demand a fair trial. To do so would certainly have been in their best interests. It would not, however, have been in the best interest of the gospel and the fledgling church in Philippi. The self-defense of an early claim to Roman citizenship on the part of the missionaries would have generated a two-class system in the church. Brian Rapske elaborates:
The signals sent would also have put the church at risk of dissolution if the new Philippian converts did not possess the Roman franchise. At the least there would have been uncertainty surrounding Paul’s commitment to his message. Converts might wonder whether only those suitably protected (i.e. by Roman citizenship) should become believers in Christ, and they might think it disingenuous for Paul and Silas to ask others to suffer what they themselves were able to avoid.[8]
Nowhere is Paul’s practice of (and the cost of) servant leadership more visible than it is in Acts 16 where, in order to preserve the relational integrity of the gospel, the apostle refused to draw upon his social status as a Roman citizen to save himself a beating and imprisonment.
Theology (=Christology) of Leadership
As it turns out, Paul’s self-sacrificial attitude toward his citizen status in Philippi finds its origins in the apostle’s understanding of the incarnation and crucifixion of his Lord Jesus. A decade or so after Paul left Philippi, he wrote a letter to the church. At the heart of Philippians is one of the most magnificent portrayals of Jesus in all of Christian literature:[9]
We generally do not turn to Philippians 2:5–11 to craft a Pauline theology of leadership. Students in training for ministry, for example, encounter this familiar passage in their systematic theology courses, where they consider Christ’s divine and human natures (vv. 6 and 7, respectively), drawing upon theological categories fully articulated only later, at the ecumenical councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon. The practical theology departments in our seminaries generally turn elsewhere in Paul’s writings (e.g., 1 Thess. 2) to introduce students to the apostle’s convictions about leadership. This is unfortunate, since Paul’s understanding of the humiliation and exaltation of Christ, as outlined in Philippians 2:6–11, is at the very heart of his philosophy of ministry as an apostle and church planter.
I cited the HCSB translation above, because of the rendering of a key term (harpagmos) in verse 6: something to be used for his own advantage. The most recent NIV adopts the same translation, and the NRSV reads similarly: “[He] did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited.” Bible translators are now jettisoning older translations of the term (e.g., “a thing to be grasped” [esv, cf. nasb]), for translations of harpagmos that more accurately reflect the meaning of the Greek original. The reason is that scholars are increasingly recognizing that Paul is concerned in the passage not with the nature of Christ’s “equality with God” but, rather, with what Christ chose to do with it the privileges associated with his divinity.
To be sure, one can effectively argue from Christ’s status of “equality with God” to his divine nature. The acclamation of Jesus as “Lord” (OT Yahweh) in verse 11 points in the same direction. But this argument is not Paul’s—not explicitly, at any rate. His interests relate, rather, to Christ’s position in the pecking order of the universe, so to speak. Paul focuses throughout 2:6–11 not upon Christ’s essential nature but, rather, upon what Christ chose to do with his status (and corresponding authority) as the Son of God. This is why translators now render harpagmos (v. 6) like they do.
Other key expressions in Philippians 2 that have traditionally been interpreted ontologically, in fact, lack an ontological component when used in contemporary literature. For example, the NIV erroneously translates en morphe theou (v. 6) as “in very nature God.” We now know that the term morphe generally refers to outward appearance, not inner essence. Thus Paul can write about persons “having the appearance (morphe) of godliness, but denying its power” (2 Tim. 3:5). In the case of Jesus, the gospel writers use the cognate verb metamorphao to describe the change he underwent during the transfiguration (Matt. 17:2; Mark 9:2). Clearly, this is a change only in outward appearance. We certainly would not argue that Jesus’ change of morphe at the transfiguration involved an alteration of his essential nature, as well!
According to Peter O’Brien, then,en morphe theou in Philippians 2:6 is “a picture of the preexistent Christ clothed in the garments of divine majesty and splendor.”[10] That is, it is the outward appearance of the preincarnate Son that is primarily in view—not the inner reality. The theme of social status (and corresponding power and authority) remain at the center of Paul’s picture of Jesus throughout Philippians 2:6–11, as illustrated by the headings in the boxes placed alongside the HCSB translation above.
The humiliation of Christ, as Paul outlined it in Philippians 2:6–8, would have struck the residents of Philippi as absolutely counterintuitive. In contrast to local elites in Philippi, who boasted of their climb up the cursus honorum by means of public inscriptions (as illustrated by Publius Marius Valens, above), Christ willingly embarked on a social descent that led him down a “course of dishonors,” from the highest status in the universe to the utterly humiliating position of a crucified slave—all so that you and I could be in relationship with God and his people.
We return now to Paul and Silas in Philippi to consider the connection between (a) Paul’s behavior as a leader in Acts 16 and (b) the apostle’s portrayal of Christ in Philippians 2. The passages exhibit several remarkable parallels.
Philippians 2 and Acts 16
Christians at Philippi who heard Paul’s letter read for the first time would have encountered in the incarnation of Jesus (2:6–11) a striking and unexpected status reversal. Jesus “did not regard equality with God as something to be used for his own advantage.” Instead, he took on “the form of a slave” and “became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (vv. 6–8). Then, in a divine fiat that wholly subverted the values and expectations of the dominant culture of the Roman colony at Philippi, God vindicated Jesus’ counterintuitive approach to status and power by exalting him to the highest place, guaranteeing that Jesus would be publicly honored by all (vv. 9–11).
In God’s radically subversive social economy, it is not those who leverage their status for their “own advantage” (cf. v. 6) who ultimately receive honor. It is those who willingly relinquish their status in the service of others.
Like Christ in Philippians 2, Paul and Silas resisted the temptation to use their status as Roman citizens to serve a personal agenda. Instead they gave up the right to a fair trial and unnecessarily endured a beating and imprisonment, in order to preserve the social integrity of the Philippian church. And just as he did for Jesus, God undertook on behalf of Paul and Silas, delivering them from prison by means of a well-timed earthquake. Later, as the story draws to a close, the missionaries’ citizen status is revealed, and positions of power are completely reversed, as the colony’s esteemed magistrates now humble themselves before Paul and Silas, pleading with them to leave the colony. A point-by-point comparison is illuminating:
Paul & Silas (Acts 16) Messiah Jesus (Philippians 2)
Refused to exploit their Roman citizenship Did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited (v. 6)
Willingly suffered the humiliation of flogging and imprisonment at the hands of Roman magistrates (vv. 19–23) Willingly suffered the humiliation of slave status, and of crucifixion at the hands of a Roman magistrate (vv. 7–8)
Vindicated by a sudden status reversal; citizenship (true identity) publicly recognized and oppressors put to shame (vv. 35–39) Vindicated by a sudden status reversal; divine lordship (true identity) recognized and publicly acknowledged by all (vv. 9–11)
It is beyond the scope of the chapter to treat these parallels in detail.[11] One issue, however, is particularly revealing. When Paul describes Jesus “assuming the form of a slave” (v. 7), he is referring to the incarnation. That is, Jesus took on the form of a slave by “taking on the likeness of men” (v. 7). The second clause explains the first. Paul’s point is that the reduction in status willingly embraced by Christ in the incarnation was tantamount to a well-heeled Roman citizen willingly selling himself into slavery, the lowest legal order in Paul’s social world. Such was the social distance between the preincarnate Son of God and the peasant craftsman he became in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. It was as if God himself had become an abject Greco-Roman slave.
Only in Philippians 2:7, moreover, in all Paul’s letters, does he refer to Jesus as a “slave” (doulos). This is no accident, in view of the beating Paul and Silas endured in Acts 16. As outlined above, citizenship and public flogging were mutually exclusive categories in Roman thinking. The physical beating of slaves, however, was an accepted social reality.
Jennifer Glancy, in an illuminating study of the relationship between whipping and social status, finds that “[t]he scars of a first-century body instantiate relationships of power, of legal status (freeborn, freed, or enslaved), of domination and submission, of honor and shame.” She argues, in turn, for “a semiotic distinction between a breast pierced by a sword and a back welted by a whip.”[12] Scars left from wounds suffered in battle are marks of honor—in the words of Plutarch, “inscribed images of excellence and manly virtue” (Mor. 331C). Scars from a beating have an entirely different socio-symbolic resonance.
Public flogging in antiquity was essentially a status degradation ritual, so that “any free person who was whipped or struck suffered an injury to honor far in excess of whatever temporary pain or permanent mark was inflicted.”[13] More to the point in the present connection, public beating in the Roman world was typically associated with the institution of slavery. Consider Apuleius’ description of a group of rural slaves encountered by his protagonist:
Good, gods, what scrawny little slaves there were! Their skin was everywhere embroidered with purple welts from their many beatings. Their backs, scarred from floggings, were shaded, as it were, rather than actually covered by their torn patchwork garments (Met. 9.12).[14]
Glancy summarizes: “whipping, which brings dishonor to the one who is whipped, is suitable only for slaves, so one who is whipped, even if legally free, warrants description as servile.”[15]
The parallel between Jesus “assuming the form of a slave” in Philippians 2:7—the only place in his letters where Paul uses doulos to describe Christ—and the flogging of Paul and Silas in Acts 16:22–23 now becomes readily transparent. Like Christ in Paul’s grand narrative, the missionaries in Acts 16 did not regard their citizen franchise as “something to be exploited” (Phil. 2:6, nrsv) but, instead, assumed what was tantamount to slave status in order to preserve the integrity of the gospel. It is little wonder that Paul, in another context, calls his scars “the marks of Jesus branded on my body” (Gal. 6:17; cf. 2 Cor. 11:24–25).
After the beating, Paul and Silas reach the nadir of their decline in honor and status, when they are imprisoned and have their feet fastened in stocks (Acts 16:23–24). Jesus, on his part, experiences the utter public humiliation of crucifixion in the Philippian narrative (“even to death on a cross” [2:8]).[16]
But God did not leave Paul and Silas in the darkness of a prison in Roman Philippi, at the mercy of their Roman accusers. Nor did God leave Jesus in the darkness of a tomb on the outskirts of Jerusalem. In each case God vindicated his servants’ selfless attitude toward status and authority by means of a striking reversal of status.
It was not long before Paul and Silas had the magistrates apologizing to them and begging them to leave the colony (Acts 16:38–39).
It was not long before Jesus rose from the dead. And it will not be long before he will return, and every sentient being—angels, demons, and human beings alike—will publicly acknowledge that “Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2:10–11).
The message to God’s leaders is crystal-clear: God ultimately honors those among his followers who use their resources—social status, authority, gifts, education, finances—in the service of others, even if this involves relinquishing these privileges and temporarily suffering the consequences. Any Pauline theology of servant leadership must begin here. For this, in a nutshell, is what it meant for Paul to lead like Jesus.
Leadership Significance
Later in his letter Paul instructed the Philippians, “Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us” (3:17). The charge is given to the church as a whole, of course, but adopting a Pauline approach to status and power has special application to those who occupy positions of authority in the community. Perhaps this is why Paul greeted church leaders by title only in Philippians (“overseers and deacons” [1:1]). The imitation theme surfaces several times in the apostle’s letters. At least twice it appears in conjunction with Paul’s willingness to forego his own rights as an apostle in the service of others (1 Cor. 10:33–11:1; 2 Thess. 3:7–9).
The practical implications of leading like Paul are manifold. Such an approach to ministry might find application in something as mundane and symbolic as repainting the church parking lot, so that a reserved spot marked “Pastor” no longer exists. Or it might involve something much more significant, such as forgoing the right to a paycheck from the church, as Paul did with the Corinthians (1 Cor. 9:6–18). Imitating Paul might even lead to a difficult sacrifice of status within the congregation itself—such as sharing the pulpit with another leader whom God has clearly gifted to teach. Indeed, giving away the ministry may be at the very heart of servant leadership, as it works itself out in day-to-day church life.
Paul seemed to think so, at any rate. We read in Ephesians that to do the work of the ministry is not to keep the ministry to oneself—it is to equip others to do the ministry (4:12). When I see God raising up another gifted leader in my church, I would do well to adopt the attitude John the Baptizer took toward Jesus: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30).
Consider the example of Barnabas. The church at Jerusalem sent Barnabas to Antioch to tend to the “great number” of Gentiles who had believed and “turned to the Lord” (Acts 11:21–22). In response to Barnabas’ pastoral oversight, Luke tells us that “a great many people were added to the Lord” (v. 24). Had Barnabas kept the ministry to himself, he could have been the first senior pastor of a Gentile megachurch. Barnabas, however, had a give-away attitude toward his role and authority as a leader. He immediately recruited Paul from Tarsus to share the ministry with him in Antioch (v. 25). “For a whole year they met with the church and taught a great many people” (v. 26). By the time we get to Acts 13, several other men have now joined Paul and Barnabas as church leaders: “Now there were in the church at Antioch prophets and teachers, Barnabas, Simeon who was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen a lifelong friend of Herod the tetrarch, and Saul” (13:1).
An Authority Crisis [17]
The notion of other-centered leadership, of not viewing one’s authority as “something to be exploited” for personal gain and the attention of others (Phil. 2:6, nrsv), has fallen on hard times in some circles today. Recent decades have seen numbers of nationally known pastors step down from their roles as church leaders because of authority abuse and other self-serving practices. And the issues are not limited to high-profile public figures. Similar problems with the exercise of spiritual authority manifest themselves in many of our local churches.
The reasons are not hard to discern. The family has been in crisis in America for more than a generation. More and more young men, gifted and called to the ministry, are coming to seminary from highly troubled homes. Lacking “the relational straw to make bricks,” so to speak, they attract crowds on Sunday with their rhetorical abilities, but they often hurt those with whom they serve in the more intimate settings of leadership development and staff relations.
And the problem is not limited to the Christian community. The secular business community currently recruits its leaders from the same dysfunctional family backgrounds. Manfred F. R. Kets de Vries traces narcissistic, abusive leadership in the corporate sector directly to emotional deprivation in childhood:
The degree of encouragement and frustration children experience as they grow up and begin to measure the boundaries of their personalities has a lasting influence on their perception of themselves and others and the relationships they form throughout their lives. Any imbalance between their feelings of helplessness and the degree of protective nurturing they receive from their parents will be felt as a psychological injury. An inappropriate level of frustration, arising from their environment, handling, or ability to cope with discipline, will feed their natural sense of impotence, and they will commonly respond with feelings of rage, a desire for vengeance, a hunger for personal power, and compensatory fantasies of omnipotence. This dynamic continues throughout life, and if it is not adequately resolved within individuals as they grow up, it is likely to be reactivated with devastating effect when they reach leadership positions and learn to play the game of power.[18]
The “devastating effect” to which Kets de Vries refers manifests itself primarily in a leader’s relationship with subordinates:
One of a leader’s most important roles is to be aware of and to accommodate the emotional needs of subordinates. Leaders driven by excessive narcissism typically disregard their subordinates’ legitimate needs and take advantage of their loyalty. This type of leader is exploitative, callous, and overcompetitive, and frequently resorts to excessive use of depreciation. This behavior fosters submissiveness and passive dependency, stifling the critical function of subordinates.[19]
The above description of narcissistic leadership is, of course, directly at odds with what we have seen of Barnabas in Acts 11, Paul in Acts 16, and Jesus in Philippians 2. Yet we encounter precisely this kind of narcissism surfacing in our churches, with a correspondingly “devastating effect” on the lives of subordinates and others in an abusive leader’s social orbit. My office at Talbot School of Theology has become a clearinghouse, in recent years, for persons who have been on the receiving end of emotional abuse by pastors and others in church leadership.
Compounding the problem is the fact that narcissism and public leadership tend to be mutually attractive. As Kets De Vries asserts, “[I]t is only to be expected that many narcissistic people, with their need for power, prestige, and glamour, eventually end up in leadership positions.”[20] This means that a disproportionate number of our leaders, vis-à-vis the general population, are poorly equipped to work with others in healthy, mutually encouraging ways.
These tendencies would seem to call for some checks and balances in our churches, so that we can help our leaders use their power in appropriately selfless, nurturing ways. Unfortunately, the institutional approach to church ministry characteristic of much of American evangelicalism has nothing to offer in this regard.
For Paul the metaphor of the church as a family was no theological abstraction. As it turns out, a hierarchical model of ministry—where a sole or senior pastor figure functions as a CEO, supported by a theologically unsophisticated corporate board of directors (elders or deacons), who are more interested in numerical growth and financial solvency than healthy relations among church leaders—proves to be a breeding ground for precisely the kind of unhealthy, narcissistic leadership that Kets De Vries describes, above.
What are we to do? Kets De Vries traces narcissistic leadership to unhealthy family relationships. The cure, it would seem, is just the opposite: healthy family relationships.
Sadly, we cannot give emotionally challenged pastors and seminarians a second childhood, though we should certainly do what we can to help our students become self-aware of relational blind spots generated by an unhealthy families of origin. There is another family, however, that offers great promise for encouraging church leaders to lead like Jesus (Phil. 2) and Paul (Acts 16). That family is the family of God.
For Paul the metaphor of the church as a family was not theological. It was a social reality that the apostle personally experienced on a daily basis, in the context of deep and meaningful relationships with both his coworkers and his converts. And Paul’s relational approach to leadership was intentional. Paul knew very well that the best way to encourage a Christlike use of power and authority is for a leader to minister in community with others, where there are relational checks and balances.
There are, of course, no guarantees that anyone will lead like Jesus in the broken, sin-stained world in which we live. But a model of leadership that finds a pastor sharing life and ministry with fellow leaders and congregants will go a long way to encourage the proper exercise of authority in our local churches.
The next chapter examines Paul’s relationships with his coworkers and converts in some detail, from Acts and Paul’s letters. If you imagine Paul to be a lone-ranger, a towering super-leader who alone took the gospel to the Gentiles, and who alone suffered severely for his faithfulness to Jesus, prepare yourself for a profound course correction. In marked contrast to popular views of the apostle, we will discover that throughout his ministry Paul served his Savior deeply imbedded in community with fellow leaders and converts alike. For to serve in relationship with others was an indispensable part of what it meant for Paul the apostle to be a minister of the gospel. [Benjamin K Forrest (2018). (p. 421). Biblical Theology for the Church: Biblical Leadership: Theology for the Everyday Leader. Retrieved from https://app.wordsearchbible.com]
THEME: Leading with Love
Andreas J. Kӧstenberger & David Crowther
Introduction
At the outset of this chapter, it should be frankly acknowledged that the Johannine Letters were not originally intended primarily to provide a theology of leadership. Nevertheless, a closer examination of these three letters reveals the way in which the author relates to and provides leadership for the people in the congregations to which the letters are written. The author’s relationship with his recipients in these three letters does not directly correspond to a modern model of leadership because of his unique role in the churches to which he is writing. Yet his faithful and caring relationship can provide an example to Christian leaders in every age. In order to grasp the lessons on leadership in the Johannine Epistles, one must consider the identity of the author of these letters, the source of his authority, his relationship with his audience, and the nature of the conflict addressed in his third letter.
Original Setting
The Authorship of the Letters
The author of 1, 2 and 3 John is never named except for the title “elder” in 2 and 3 John. The early church accepted all three letters into the canon in the belief that John the apostle, the son of Zebedee, was the author.[1] While the author of these letters was doubtless known to his initial readers, the modern reader is indebted to the early church for preserving the tradition of authorship. Sources from the late second and early third centuries, such as the Muratorian Fragment (c. ad 180) and church fathers Tertullian (c. ad 160–215) and Clement of Alexandria (c. ad 155–220), ascribe authorship to John the son of Zebedee.
However, not only the external but also the internal evidence points to Johannine authorship. First, in 1 John 1:1–4 the author claims to be an eyewitness of Jesus. Although the first-person plural reference (“we”) in the author’s description of what he has heard, seen, and touched may include his audience because they share in the tradition that was handed down (alternatively, the reference is to the apostles; cf. John 1:14; 2:11), there is a clear distinction between the author and his recipients with regard to their firsthand knowledge of Jesus (cf.1 John 1:2–3). While the author may use the first-person plural reference to identify with his audience, 1 John 1:1–2 indicates that the author is a personal eyewitness of the incarnate Christ.[2]
Second, all three of the Johannine letters contain similar vocabulary, style, and theology. In fact, the relationship between the letters is so strong that the majority of modern scholars view them as coming from one author—albeit not all agree that their author is the same as the author of the Fourth Gospel.[3] For instance, among the Johannine letters one can identify a common background in which itinerant teachers with competing theological agendas threatened the confession of the Johannine churches.[4] In response to such threats, the Johannine letters demonstrate an emphasis on truth (1 John 1:6, 8; 2:4, 21; 3:18–19; 4:6; 5:6; 2 John 1:2–4; 3 John 1:1, 3–4, 8, 12), Jesus’ humanity and/or messianic nature (1 John 4:2; 2 John 7), the identity of the opponents as “antichrists” and “deceivers” (1 John 2:22, 26; 2 John 7), the importance of “abiding” (1 John 2:14, 24; 2 John 2), the priority of love (1 John 2:7, 3:11; 2 John 5–6), and ethics as a reflection of one’s relationship with God (1 John 3:6; 2 John 9; 3 John 11).[5] The classic defense of apostolic authorship comes from B. F. Westcott, who favors John the son of Zebedee as the author of all three letters and remarks regarding the relationship between them:
The second Epistle bears the closest resemblance in language and thought to the first. The third Epistle has the closest affinity to the second, though from its subject it is less like the first in general form. Nevertheless, it offers many striking parallels to the constructions and language of St. John.[6]
Third, all three letters contain similarities with John’s gospel. In the gospel and letters, one finds evidence of John’s characteristic dualistic thought. Johannine literature is noted for strong conceptual contrasts such as “life and death, truth and falsehood, light and darkness, children of God and children of the devil, love and hate.”[7]In addition to conceptual similarities, John uses the unique terms “one and only Son” (John 1:14, 18; 3:16, 18; 1 John 4:9), “Word” as a title for Jesus (John 1:1; 1 John 1:1), as well as “‘eternal life” (John 3:15–16, 36, etc.; 1 John 1:2; 2:25; 3:15; 5:11, 13, 20), “the spirit of truth” (John 14:17; 16:13; 1 John 4:6), among many others.[8] The detailed study by A. E. Brooke lists sixty-seven similarities in style, vocabulary and syntax between John’s gospel and letters.[9]
Fourth, while one would expect a later writer to emulate a particular style in order to pass off a document as genuine, each of the Johannine letters, though similar to the others, is unique.[10]Moreover, though some scholars argue that the gospel and/or letters were written or redacted by a Johannine community after the apostle’s death, it is unclear why such a community would have failed to use this standardized Johannine style outside of the Fourth Gospel and three letters. The stubborn fact remains that the Johannine corpus has no parallel in extrabiblical literature.[11]
For these reasons it is reasonable to conclude that the Gospel of John and 1–3 John are all the work of one single author—and as tradition, reflected in the respective titles of these works, suggests, that the author was John the son of Zebedee.[12] Why, then, does the author of 1 John fail to identify himself, while only calling himself “the elder” in 2 and 3 John? Apparently, the identity of the author was so well known that he did not need to identify himself by name.
The title “elder” or “presbyter” can refer literally to an elderly man or to an overseer in the church. Doubtless the term here, combined with the authority conveyed in 2 and 3 John, indicates that theauthor is more than a local pastor and holds a measure of authority over several churches.[13]It is likely that by designating himself with an authoritative title he identifies himself as holding a position of authority and life experience enabling him to transmit apostolic tradition in the face of heretical teachings threatening the church.[14]
Readers might find themselves asking why authorship matters in a book on leadership. Arguments for or against the Johannine authorship of 1–3 John do not affect the inspired, authoritative nature of these writings. Nevertheless, the identity of the author is important for the theology of leadership these letters contain, because the theology of leadership emanating from the Johannine Epistles flows from the role the author played in the churches to which he wrote. As the above discussion has shown, the evidence points decisively to John the apostle’s authorship of 1–3 John. Moreover, it is likely that John wrote in the late first century when “the author was advanced in years . . . and in keeping with this . . . referred to the congregations addressed in the letters as ‘dear children,’ including even those he calls ‘fathers.’”[15]
The Recipients
John’s repeated use of “little children,” along with other personal and intimate terms of address for groups within the congregation to which he writes, suggests he had a well-established relationship with his readers. Beyond this, one must note that 1 John appears to be slightly different from 2 and 3 John in that 1 John contains no specific names or places and seems to be more of a general treatise, whereas 2 and 3 John are personal letters (though 3 John is even more personal than 2 John).[16] Based on tradition, it is likely that all three epistles first circulated among churches in and around Ephesus, where John held considerable influence in the late first century.[17] Though it may be appropriate, then, to speak of Johannine churches, or churches over which John wielded considerable sway as a founder and apostle, it is important to distinguish the Johannine churches from the modern construct of a “Johannine community.” The “Johannine community” hypothesis is an attempt by scholars such as Raymond Brown and J. Louis Martyn to reconstruct the background of John’s gospel and letters by arguing that these documents reflect a sectarian community’s expulsion from a parent synagogue subsequent to the apostle’s death.[18] For our discussion, this differs from a Johannine church in that it is not directly attested in the New Testament and sectarian in nature, rather than part of the apostolic mainstream of the early church.
The Basis of John’s Leadership: Faithful Transmission of Tradition
How does John attempt to lead the churches to which he writes these letters? Or, rather, from where does John derive his authority to instruct his readers? In keeping with his status as an eyewitness, it is the tradition that John conveys as an eyewitness that is intrinsic to his authority. For example, in 1 John 1:1–4 the apostle most likely alludes to his own firsthand experience with Christ. It is through John that the audience is able to receive the revelation of Christ (“the Word of life”). As a mediator of apostolic tradition, John has authority to convey the basis on which people are admitted into the church (i.e., “what we have seen and heard we proclaim to you also, so that you too may have fellowship with us,” 1 John 1:3a). Thus, John’s leadership and authority consist in his reader’s dependence upon him for the revelation of Jesus. When one recalls the original setting of 1 John, it becomes clear that the “fellowship” John extends to his readers is none other than the Christian fellowship made possible by the gospel. The heretical teaching John counters in his theological treatise threatens to unravel the unity of the Johannine churches, but by maintaining the genuine, received gospel, the fellowship is preserved and kept intact.[19]
This mediatorial emphasis is likewise found in 1 John 1:5 where John describes his role in communicating the message he has heard to his audience. Thus John’s role as a leader in the community to which he writes consists to a significant extent in the faithful transmission of tradition. This observation can be bolstered by noting that John does not issue a “new commandment” but repeats what was from the beginning (1 John 2:7; 3:11, 23; 4:21; 2 John 5–7). What is more, John seeks to guard the truth about Jesus Christ by urging his readers to remain faithful to their original confession and not to accept a new tradition about Jesus (1 John 2:18–27; 4:1–3).
Especially important is the time reference used in 1 John 1:1–5 in relation to the origin of the eyewitness testimony. The “beginning” marks the start of Jesus’ ministry and almost certainly indicates that the author is one of the Twelve, who can relate all the necessary and correct details about Jesus.[20] The first-person plural reference in the prologue has stirred debate over whether it is used to identify the apostles/disciples [21] or authoritative bearers of tradition (and hence was written by someone other than John the apostle).[22] While an argument has already been made for apostolic authorship, even those who doubt apostolic authorship (such as Bauckham) note the eyewitness reference (either by firsthand experience or relating of a tradition) represented by the first-person plural reference. This suggests that the authority by which the author exhorts his readers is based on his access to and transmission of authentic tradition.
Forms of Address for John’s Audience
John’s leadership and authority are assumed in his epistles in several ways, which points to his status in the community. In conjunction with his role as eyewitness and preserver of tradition about Jesus, John’s authority can be seen by the forms of address he uses with his readers. Overall, John uses six different forms of address in his letters. The two most common ways in which John addresses his audience or parts of his audience are “my children”[23] or “children”[24] (1 John 2:1, 12, 13, 18, 28; 3:7, 18; 4:4; 5:2, 21; 3 John 1:4) and “beloved”[25] (1 John 2:7; 3:2, 21; 4:1, 7, 11; 3 John 1:1, 2, 5, 11). Other designations include “lady”[26] (2 John 1:1, 5), “fathers”[27] (1 John 2:13–14), “young men”[28] (1 John 2:13–14), and “brothers”[29] (1 John 3:13).
Children
“Children” (teknion)—“my children” in 2:1—is a term of an endearment often used in John in the vocative plural (1 John 2:12, 28; 3:7, 18; 4:4; 5:21). It has the diminutive meaning of “little children” and speaks of the close relationship between John and his spiritual children.[30] John also uses teknon to denote people in relationship to a teacher—although not every use of teknon refers to the teacher-spiritual child relationship. For example, teknon can refer to “children of God” (cf. 1 John 3:1; 5:2) or “children of the devil” (cf. 1 John 3:10). The use of teknon as a term of endearment by a teacher to his congregation can be seen in 1 Corinthians 4:14–15, where Paul reminds the Corinthians that they are his children and he is their spiritual father because it was from him that they heard and received the gospel (cf. Acts 18).[31] Although Paul and John may not use teknon in exactly the same way, it is possible, if not probable, that John was responsible for establishing the churches to which he writes (cf. esp. 1 John 1:3).
In addition to teknion and teknon, John also uses paidion(1 John 2:14, 18), which is more common in the New Testament than either term.[32] The meaning of these words is virtually synonymous, and all three words are rendered “children” in English. It is not altogether clear why John varies his word choice; most likely, this is merely an instance of stylistic variation. In the context of 1 John 2:12–14, the pattern of children/fathers/young men seems to indicate that fathers and young men belong to the larger category of children. That is, everyone is the church is included in the term “children,” though John identifies some as “fathers” and others as “young men.”[33]
Peter Balla’s research on the parent-child relationship in Greco-Roman and Jewish sources demonstrates that John’s use of “children” as a term of endearment for his readers would have served to assert his authority over them, to communicate his love for them, and to convey the “expectation that they will obey him.”[34] If, as suggested earlier, one assumes that John spiritually fathered the church through his gospel proclamation, the use of the term “children” to accomplish this threefold purpose is further strengthened.
Beloved
“Beloved” (agapētos) is an equally important term of endearment in 1 John (1 John 2:7; 3:2, 21; 4:1, 7, 11; 3 John 1:1, 2, 5, 11). Though it can simply be used as a “homiletical form of address,” semantically it functions much like “child,” indicating one who is “dearly loved, prized or valued,” often denoting “a close relationship, especially that between parent and child.”[35]It is interesting that in the Johannine Epistles the use of “beloved” often occurs just before or in the middle of a section dealing with Christian love—though this is not invariably the case (cf. 3 John 1–2). Stott observes of the first usage of “beloved” in 1 John 2:7, “As he [John] is about to write of brotherly love, he appropriately addresses them as his agapētoi.”[36]
Lady
Twice in 2 John, one finds the rather curious term “lady” (kyría; cf. 2 John 1:1, 5). The word generally denotes “a woman of special status.”[37] Although some commentators (e.g., Westcott) believe the word refers to an individual, such as a lady in whose house the church met, the majority view is that it refers to a congregation of Christians.[38] R. Alan Culpepper writes, “It is now generally agreed that this title refers to a sister church.”[39] The view that the “elect lady” is an individual is the most ancient view, going back to Clement of Alexandria (d. 215) who believed the lady’s name was Electa, while others suggest her name was Kyria (cf. “elect” with a proper name in Romans 16:13).[40] However, the definite article is lacking, and the nature of the letter fits a corporate rather than individual or family setting.[41] The reference to the “chosen lady” probably refers to a congregation of believers, a church—and the chosen lady’s “children” refers to the members of the church.[42] Thus, at the outset of 2 John, the elder assumes his right to speak authoritatively to a local church to which he writes.
Fathers and Young Men
In 1 John 2:12–14, the apostle discusses the various reasons why he has written his epistle to several classes of people—children, fathers, and young men. Fathers (patēres) are mentioned twice in this passage (1 John 2:13–14). The term is almost certainly “a respectful address designating older male members of the church.”[43] Of course, it is difficult to know whether John refers to individuals who are literally advanced in years or spiritually mature, or both. Strecker observes that the general tone of the epistle hints that one should interpret the age designations such as “fathers” and “young men” in a more symbolic fashion.[44] Although both words are masculine, female readers may have understood the concepts as applying to them as well.[45] Thus, while as a leader John calls those under his authority “children,” he shows his high regard for those advanced in the faith by identifying them as “fathers.”
Likewise, young men (neaniskoi) are mentioned twice in 1 John 2:12–14. Literally,neaniskos refers to a young man, usually between twenty-four and forty years old.[46] However, based on the above observations John probably refers primarily to those who are young figuratively, that is, young in the faith. Nevertheless, it is important not to draw too fine a distinction between the literal and figurative senses of “fathers/young men,” since in most cases spiritual maturity comes with increasing age.
Brothers
The term of endearment adelphoi is only used once in the Johannine Epistles, in 1 John 3:13. Although the word is masculine, it should most likely be understood as conveying the sense “brothers and sisters.” The address demonstrates that John views the congregation not merely as his spiritual children but also as fellow believers who like him have placed their trust in Jesus as the Son of God and Messiah.[47] Nevertheless, the fact that John uses the designation adelphoi only once may suggest that he sees himself primarily in the role of a leader with regard to the congregation. Barker adds the following insight:
At this most critical point, the author appears to step past his relationship to them as “little children” and to openly proclaim them as his peers. Perhaps they have already experienced persecution with him. Or perhaps he associates himself with them this way because he knows that if they receive his letter and obey it, persecution will soon come because they have identified themselves with him rather than with his opponents.[48]
Summary
John uses various names to address his congregation for rhetorical purposes. He sought both to encourage his readers to honor their relationship with him and the Lord and to appeal to them based upon his relationship with them. While some of the terms of address may have literal significance (i.e., “young men,” “fathers”), most of the expressions convey the close relationship shared between John and his readers.[49]
Conflict in 3 John
Third John, the shortest book in the New Testament, is also the most occasional of John’s letters. The brief missive presents a variety of difficulties because it is addressed to an individual about whom nothing is known and speaks of issues of which the contemporary reader is unaware due to limited background information. The most crucial issue in 3 John pertains directly to leadership—who can speak authoritatively in the church to which the elder writes: the elder or Diotrephes? This matter is the subject of discussion in 3 John 9–10:
I wrote something to the church; but Diotrephes, who loves to be first among them, does not accept what we say. For this reason, if I come, I will call attention to his deeds which he does, unjustly accusing us with wicked words; and not satisfied with this, he himself does not receive the brethren, either, and he forbids those who desire to do so and puts them out of the church.
Scholars are divided over the meaning of John’s cryptic reference to writing “something to the church.” Some maintain that John is referring to 2 John, while the majority of recent commentators contend that he refers to a now-lost letter, since 2 John says nothing about extending hospitality to itinerant missionaries, the presumed subject of the letter in question.[50] Regardless of the nature of the letter, John experiences a leadership challenge when a certain Diotrephes opposes him and his associates by lodging false charges and refusing hospitality to the itinerant missionaries presumably sent by John. In addition, he seeks to rid his church of those who receive the missionaries from John.
The contemporary reader, of course, possessed no further information regarding this man named Diotrephes. Does Gaius belong to the same church as Diotrephes? Is Diotrephes an/the elder in his own church? And why does Diotrephes oppose John and the itinerant missionaries? We can only speculate.
First, one cannot be sure whether Gaius and Diotrephes belong to the same local church. Some have suggested that the elder wrote a letter to the church commending the missionaries to whom he refers in 3 John 8, but Diotrephes ignored it and did not share the letter with the church. In a second attempt to commend the missionaries and notify the church of Diotrephes’ actions, the elder writes to his friend Gaius, who is also a member of the church, in hopes that he will share it with others.[51]Others believe Gaius was a member of another church in the surrounding area.[52] One cannot be sure, but it is more likely that Gaius serves as one of John’s delegates rather than as a fellow-member of Diotrephes’ church. After all, Gaius would scarcely need an explanation of Diotrephes’ actions if he were part of the church.[53] Moreover, if Gaius were in Diotrephes’ church, how has he escaped being expelled since he is presumably on John’s side?[54]
Second, what is Diotrephes’ role in his local church? It seems clear that he exercises a leadership function whether or not he occupies a formal office. In 3 John 9, Diotrephes is described as ho philoprōteuōn auton, which means something like “he loves to have preeminence” or “he likes being first.” F. F. Bruce observes, “The language suggests a self-promoted demagogue rather than a constitutional presbyteros or episkopos.”[55] Nevertheless, Diotrephes is able to put others out of the church which may suggest a more official role—although this could mean that he attempts to drive others out of the church by accusation or pressure, with varying results.[56] Whether Diotrephes is an official leader or not cannot be determined with certainty; yet it is clear that the elder does not accept Diotrephes’ position in the church, whatever that may be, as the preeminent office-holder.
Finally, why does Demetrius oppose the elder and the itinerant missionaries? This has been one of the most frequently discussed questions in reference to the interpretation of 3 John. The options include:
Conflict over doctrinal orthodoxy. One view is that Diotrephes and the elder had differing theological convictions. Either Diotrephes was guilty of the deficient Christology discussed in 1 and 2 John (Bauer) or, as Käsemann and Strecker claim, it was the elder who was guilty of heresy.
[57]
However, it is highly probable that the conflict had nothing to do with doctrinal differences since no doctrinal deficiencies are mentioned as they are in 1 and 2 John.
Conflict due to a tragic misunderstanding. More recently, the proposal has been made that a tragic misunderstanding occurred when John sent out missionaries who, unbeknown to him, defected to heretical Christology and were rightly rejected by Diotrephes. Then, a second group of orthodox missionaries from John were likewise repelled and John reacted against Diotrephes without full knowledge of the situation.
[58]
As interesting as this reconstruction may be, it is purely conjectural and cannot be adjudicated on the basis of the available evidence.
Conflict over ecclesiastical authority. There are numerous reconstructions as to the exact nature of the conflict. Harnack proposed that 3 John was written toward the end of the apostolic period when the office of “monarchical bishop” was beginning to emerge. Diotrephes either desired or held such a role and therefore rejected the elder’s authority as either antiquated or nonbinding for him and his church.
[59]
Others have suggested that perhaps Diotrephes felt his church was independent, and therefore the elder, who was removed from the church, had no right to impose his own will on the church. Thus an ecclesiastical power play was at stake.
Conflict due to personal sin. J. Stott rightly seeks to pay close attention to what the text makes explicit rather than focusing on the unstated background. He concludes:
To John the motives governing the conduct of Diotrephes were neither theological, nor social, nor ecclesiastical, but moral. The root of the problem was sin. Diotrephes . . . loves to be first or (RSV) “likes to put himself first” (philoprōteuō). He did not share the Father’s purpose that in all things Christ should have the supremacy (Col 1:18, prōteuōn). Nor would he kowtow to “the elder.” He wanted the supremacy himself. He was “greedy of place and power.”
[60]
Stott takes a different approach than many commentators and traces the heart of the problem to a problem of the heart. Moreover, his observation is bolstered because it can be supported by what the text says.
However, it would be misleading to conclude that the conflict was not ecclesiastical. It is clear that 3 John addresses a leadership conflict. Diotrephes is seeking to act as a leader in the church. His leadership is asserted by opposing the leadership of John and prohibiting John’s missionaries from gaining a foothold in his church. John does not appreciate this threat to his own leadership and seeks to regain his dominance by advising Gaius, “Do not imitate what is evil” (e.g., “Do not imitate Diotrephes,” v. 11) and by proposing to confront Diotrephes (v. 9). Thus John asserts his leadership over Diotrephes and the church by maintaining his right to exercise disciplinary action for anyone’s refusal to follow his leadership.
Theology of Leadership in 1–3 John
John’s theology of leadership is inextricably bound to his identity as an apostle and eyewitness of Jesus. First, leadership in the church is not innate; a leader is not self-appointed but leadership is conferred by the Head of the church (cf. Eph. 4:11–13). Jesus called his disciples and commissioned them to preach the gospel to others. John’s ability to lead others, therefore, derives from his relationship to Jesus. John truly knew and knows Christ and can therefore speak on his behalf about him to others. Still, John is in a privileged position over against his audience because his readers did not see, hear, or touch the living Word of Life. This privilege means that as long as John is alive, he is the official preserver and interpreter of Christological and doctrinal orthodoxy in the churches he serves.
Second, but closely related to the first point, is John’s commitment to the authentic Jesus tradition. What the elder teaches his churches about God as Father, Son, and Spirit, about morality and ethics, salvation, and so forth, is not his own teaching but is that which he “received.” That is, John only reports what he has seen, experienced himself, and been instructed to teach.
Third, John understands his authority not only as conferred by Christ, but also as confirmed by his relationship with his readers. In his use of the various terms of endearment, John emerges as a “father” over the churches under his care. The elder’s “fatherhood” is demonstrated in a more literal sense simply because of John’s advanced age at the time of his writing, as well as in a spiritual sense because he has most likely had an immediate role in the community’s reception of and establishment in the gospel.
Moreover, John’s theology of leadership is unique from modern conceptions because as a father, the relationship is maintained by deep personal concern for those under his care. Likewise, one would assume that those under John’s leadership would typically be less likely to question his authority since they were birthed into the community under his oversight—though some who may have originated within the Johannine churches did reject his authority (i.e., Diotrephes). While John maintained clear, defined authority over the churches, John’s use of other terms such as “brothers and sisters” and perhaps “beloved” as well some of his uses of “we”-language depict John as a leader who likewise acknowledged his spiritual equality with his audience. So, then, while John exercised his leadership over the churches, he likewise walked alongside them through the Christian life.
Still, John’s supremacy as the human leader of the churches in and around Ephesus was firmly established. Paul Rainbow describes John’s role as “ecclesiastical superintendent at Ephesus.”[61]This picture is supported because John is shown to reside in a different town than Gaius, who Rainbow suggests is the host of a house church (though such a conclusion about Gaius’ role cannot be positively confirmed), and Diotrephes is probably in a similar role in yet another house church in another town. So, then, the conclusion is drawn that John understood himself as an apostolic overseer over churches in and around his particular region.[62]
Finally, John vehemently shows that personal pride and Christian leadership are incompatible. This is the problem with Diotrephes: his love of “being first” or “having preeminence” (3 John 9). In the Fourth Gospel, John adds a detail not found in the accounts of the other Evangelists—Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. As he sought to prepare his disciples for his imminent departure at the Last Supper, Jesus “got up from supper, and laid aside his garments; and taking a towel, he girded Himself.[63] Jesus proceeded to wash his disciples’ feet, protestations and the presence of the betrayer notwithstanding. When he was finished, Jesus probed the disciples’ understanding of what he had just done. John records the significance of Jesus’ actions as follows:
If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a slave is not greater than his master, nor is one who is sent greater than the one who sent him.[64]
The footwashing in the Fourth Gospel is the “Johannine counterpart to the Synoptic teaching that the heart of Christian leadership is service (Matt 20:25–28 pars.).”[65] This also highlights the necessity of humility in leadership. Out of self-seeking pride and selfish ambition, Diotrephes wanted to be first, whereas Christ, in self-sacrificing humility and other-centered servanthood, demonstrated a willingness to be last.
From his gospel, the Fourth Evangelist emerges as a leader who understands the need to act with authority but who also understands the utmost importance of love and service. John’s lowly spirit is evident in the tone with which he writes, but at the same time his disdain emerges for those who would unduly exalt themselves to a place of illegitimate authority.[66] John sees Christ as the leader of the church, and those who hold human positions of leadership are to submit to Christ’s lordship. There is no place for personal exaltation and pride. John clearly understands this not only by observing Christ’s servant leadership but also because he, too, had once been rebuked for desiring undue prominence. In fact, John and his brother James (or at least their mother on their behalf) had once sought to sit on the right and left of Jesus’ throne in the kingdom (Matt. 20:20–28;Mark 10:35–45). Nevertheless, in a rather awkward interchange, Jesus rebuked their presumptuous request in front of the other disciples, teaching the entire group that although he had called them to be leaders, such leadership was not to be exercised by “lording it over” others, but by following in the pattern of suffering and service like their Master. Through years of walking with Christ—both literally and spiritually—John had learned all too well that a genuine spiritual leader must walk in gentleness and humility.
Leadership Significance
Naturally, one must understand that pastors and Christian leaders in the twenty-first century must be careful about applying the leadership principles of the apostles in the first century to themselves. After all, the New Testament documents are not manuals for Leadership 101. Even more dangerous is the tendency of some pastors to bestow upon themselves “apostolic authority.” The New Testament is clear that God has established pastors for the oversight of local congregations. For example, Hebrews 13:17 instructs the church to obey its leaders and submit to them. Leaders and teachers are accountable to God for the way in which they lead and should be obeyed—a truth present in both Hebrews 13:17 and James 3:1. Nevertheless, genuine authority does not mean that pastors have apostolic authority. Apostolic authority is a first-century phenomenon that died with John (John’s longevity—particularly beyond Peter—is highlighted in John 21:20–24).[67]
Pastors and Christian leaders, however, must submit to apostolic authority—the authority of the apostles attested in the New Testament documents. Just as John sought to pass along the authentic tradition about Jesus, Christian leaders must devote themselves to the study of God’s Word and uphold the orthodoxy of New Testament Christianity (Jude 3).[68] Thus, the authority of a pastor and/or leader does not reside within himself but with the Word of God. Certainly, God raises up leaders, but their effectiveness and authority is only properly exercised when they properly maintain and proclaim the tradition concerning the Word of Life (1 John 1:1–4).
In addition, Christian leaders also must strive to maintain the proper relationship with those who are under their authority. The tendency to “lord over” others should be unique to secular leaders, as Christian leaders will inevitability care about those under their authority. First, as 1 John notes, one of the three “tests” of authentic Christianity is a genuine love for others. When Christ’s love has gripped a leader, he will act in the best interest of others, showing love, respect, and appreciation. Moreover, the style of loving leadership will be commensurate with the relationship shared between the leader and those under his authority. Factors influencing this dynamic will be the proven character of the leader as well as his spiritual relationship to his audience and relative physical age. For example, generally speaking, a founding pastor, even if the church is relatively young, will have more authority in the church which he founded in a short time than another pastor will have in that same amount of time in an established church. This relates to the concept of “father” in 1 John as one who gives “birth” to the community.
Likewise, John’s role as a “father” can relate to leadership in terms of one’s proven character and relative age in contemporary leadership situations, just as it did for John. Whereas John was literally elderly at the time of writing the Johannine Letters—and his faithful ministry was known to many—this gave credibility to his leadership. One can think of such leaders today and the respect given to them at the conclusion of a life-time of ministry. For the Southern Baptist denomination, W. A. Criswell provides a great example of credibility earned over a lifetime of leadership. During the doctrinal controversy of the 1980s and 1990s, Criswell, who was already into his seventies, used the respect and trust he had earned to help move his denomination away from theological liberalism. Other leaders who do not have the track record of such a lengthy, faithful ministry must rely on other approaches. For instance, whereas the family relationship of “brother/sister” receives minimal attention in John’s theology of leadership, a younger pastor or leader will need to use such a relationship frequently as a model for leadership (cf. 1 Tim. 5:1–2).
Finally, one of the timeless leadership lessons from 3 John can be taken from the case of Diotrephes. In this case, there is no evidence that Diotrephes was a heretic or guilty of atrocious immorality. Rather, the sin of Diotrephes was that he “loved to be first,” which led him to reject the authority of the apostle and elder John. As a result of his own pride, he refused to welcome John’s itinerant missionaries and autocratically removed others from the church. In many ways, this sounds like a modern story. The aisles and hallways of churches are filled with sad tales of hostile, ecclesiastical power plays.
Christian leaders must resist the temptation to be like Diotrephes by refusing to put themselves first. As mentioned, leaders must learn the importance of humility and selfless service. John’s condemnation of Diotrephes’ selfish ambition can be seen in contrast to the call for Christian leaders to have the attitude of men like Christ, Paul, Timothy, and Epaphroditus who were “genuinely concerned for the church” (Phil. 2:17–30). Christian leaders should not seek to sway unlimited power but should demonstrate selfless service, preferring others over themselves. After all, a Christian leader must master the difficult lesson learned by John, his brother James, and the other disciples—there is no room in the kingdom for one who “lords” authority over others. Instead, Christian leaders—whether pastors, professors, or presidents of organizations—must lead by serving; the Christian leader is to display a countercultural style of leadership by acting with a servant-like mentality. Such an attitude does not prevent a Christian servant leader from instructing others but changes the way in which followers are instructed—and demands a greater commitment on the part of the leader. This is in keeping with the disposition of Jesus, who came not to be served but to serve, yet who clearly wielded authority among his disciples. It is also evident in John’s concern for the people in his churches.
Conclusion
The Epistles of John demonstrate the leadership role the “elder” exercised in the churches over which he had influence. John uses the designation “the elder” because of his advanced age and intimate pastoral role in connection with the churches over which he held spiritual authority. This authority was based in his transmission of an accurate message about Jesus and his “founding” of them in the Christian faith. John’s leadership then finds a basis in who he is in Christ (an apostle/eyewitness) and what he says about Christ (accurate transmission of tradition). Furthermore, John’s ethic of leadership is one of love. As an “elder” John loves those entrusted to his spiritual care. This means that he can speak intimately to them, calling them his “children.” Yet, he does not patronize them or pretend to be spiritually superior; he recognizes that some in the churches are “fathers” while others, “young men,” are less mature yet still “victorious,” and all are brothers/sisters. The extent of John’s loving leadership is seen in 3 John, where the elder cannot bear to see Christian workers mistreated by the autocratic Diotrephes. Thus while 1, 2, and 3 John are scarcely modern manuals of leadership, John provides a model of loving pastoral care and the self-denial necessary for any leader who has been called to serve the church. [Benjamin K Forrest (2018). (p. 482). Biblical Theology for the Church: Biblical Leadership: Theology for the Everyday Leader. Retrieved from https://app.wordsearchbible.com]
