Audio Transcript

What would it look like in your life to know that God loves you — I mean to know that he really loves you? Would that love be proven in a new job? Or maybe a better job? Would it be an open door that will allow you greater financial independence? Maybe it would be to find a spouse. Or maybe deliverance from chronic pain that depletes your energy. Or maybe it would look like being delivered from the consuming demands of a special needs child. What would prove God’s love to you? And what if the answer to that question was something altogether different than what we expected? What if, instead of any of these things, God showed his love to you by letting you die in sickness? Crazy, right? Totally counterintuitive. And yet this is exactly what we read about in John 11:1–44. Listen to this extraordinary story, because in it we find a life-changing lesson God wants all of us to grasp. Here’s Pastor John to explain, in one of his sermons from 2001.

This is John 11. I have used this text now in about five settings in the last couple of months because no other text has gripped me like this in driving home this central point.

Love and Glory

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was ill. (John 11:1–2)

This is clearly a picture of sweetness and love. Mary loved Jesus, and Jesus loved Mary. Mark that word love. It will show up several more times.

So the sisters sent to him, saying, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it he said, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” (John 11:3–4)

So now you have two profound realities on the table: love and glory — the love of Christ and the glory of Christ. My question is, How do they relate to each other? Verse 5:

Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

“Until Christ becomes our treasure, we don’t know what it is to be loved by God.”

Notice three things: (1) Jesus chose to let Lazarus die. (2) He was motivated in this by his zeal for the glory of God to be manifest. (3) This motivation is love.

Do you see the word so, or therefore, at the beginning of verse 6? Do you see what it’s preceded by and followed by? It’s preceded by the fact that Jesus loved Martha; Jesus loved Mary; Jesus loved the dying man, Lazarus. Therefore, he did not go heal him but stayed two days longer where he was and saw to it that he died.

Why Do You Want to Be Loved by God?

Now, what on earth could possibly turn that into love? Verse 4: This is not going to end in death. This is all about the glory of God, “that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

So here’s my definition of the love of God based on this text: God’s love is his doing whatever needs to be done, at whatever cost, so that we will see and be satisfied with the glory of God in Jesus Christ. Let me say it again: the love of God is his doing whatever needs to be done, at whatever cost to himself or to us, so that we will see and be satisfied by the love of God in Christ forever and ever.

Let me confirm this with John 17:24. Here’s Jesus praying for us, and he loves us in this prayer — oh how he loves us in this prayer. John 17:24: “Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory.” If Jesus loves you and prays for you, do you know what he finally asks for you? That you may see him. The ultimate answer to the prayer of love is, “Show them my glory, Father. Show them my glory, and they will have arrived at ultimate satisfaction.”

Why do you want to be loved by God? Yes, not to perish. Yes, not to go to hell. Yes, not to have a guilty conscience anymore. Yes, to have the marriage put back together. But if that’s all you want, you don’t know him. You don’t know him. It’s for life. And what is life? It is to know him and his Son. It’s to fellowship with him. It’s to behold him. It’s to be satisfied with him. It’s to enjoy him. Until Christ becomes our treasure, we don’t know what it is to be loved by God.

Why are you thankful for the love of God today? I hope, before we’re done, God will have worked in your heart so that you see enough of God the Father and enough of God the Son, Jesus Christ, so that you will know and feel that it is not finally for the relief of your conscience, it is not finally for escape from hell, it is not finally for health in our bodies, or reconciliation among our family members; it is finally to bring you home to God, where you can see him and enjoy him forever and ever and ever.

Seeing and Savoring Forever

I want to know: Do you want this? Do you want this? Do you want to be loved by God for God? Do you want to be loved by God for God? Or do you only want to be loved by God because it feels good that he seems to make much of you? Have you taken the American definition of love — being made much of — and so twisted God to fit that definition that the only way you would feel loved by God is if he makes much of you, when, in fact, the love of God is working so as to change you so that you enjoy making much of him forever and ever and ever? And that’s the end of your quest. There isn’t anything beyond it.

“You will be satisfied when you forget yourself and are swallowed up in Jesus Christ, and he becomes your treasure.”

I do believe that is in every heart in this room. And we are all fallen, and we are all sinners. I know that every person in this room has a distorted desire for God, and it’s on the way to being purified. And it’s being tricked. You’re being tricked, many of you, into thinking that the satisfying thing in life is to be made much of: “If I could just get some people to clap for me, to like me, to approve of me, to give me a raise, or to give me an advancement. If I could just get someone to pay attention to me, I would be satisfied.” You wouldn’t. I promise you, in the name of Jesus Christ Almighty, you wouldn’t.

You will be satisfied when you forget yourself and are swallowed up in Jesus Christ, and he becomes your treasure, and he becomes your delight, and he becomes what you cherish and what you value, and you spend the rest of your eternity growing in your capacity to see and savor, to know and to delight in him forever and ever — and it will get better and better and better.

“How do you feel about Roe being struck down?” I emailed an old college friend.

“Ticked off,” she wrote back, “and scared because if I were to get pregnant, my medications, which keep me alive, are not good for babies. I was even more ticked when Tennessee enacted those trigger laws banning aborting at six weeks. I knew too many people who got pregnant in middle school and high school. . . .

“I firmly believe in protecting life. I believe in vaccines. I believe in supporting families. I believe in letting adults and their medical professionals make personal decisions that only affect them in a private manner. . . . I don’t believe abortion is evil. Or wrong. Or sinful.”

How Did Roe Fall on You?

When Roe was struck down, I was at a park, meeting another mom. She walked up and blurted out (by way of greeting), “Roe was struck down!” I gasped, sat stunned for a moment, tried to wrap my mind around the fact that I was drawing my breath, for the first time, in a post-Roe country.

Seven months ago, we all lived in the America of my birth. This was an America that legally affirmed the inalienable right of women to a form of “health care” that intentionally ends the life of children in the womb. This position, established by the Supreme Court in 1973, led to the near tripling of annual abortion deaths in the United States within eight years. More than 63 million babies lost their lives in the years between Roe’s ascendancy and its reversal.

“More than 63 million babies lost their lives in the years between Roe’s ascendancy and its reversal.”

Many people I know have prayed for this day longer than I have been alive. They have established pregnancy centers offering family education, free ultrasounds, and free clothing and supplies. They have adopted and fostered. They have cared for babies and children while single mothers were at work.

But other people I know, like my friend from college, lament and even panic over the end of Roe. They experience fear, the fear of former rights revoked and children uncared for. What is the difference in worldview that produces such perfectly opposing opinions on abortion?

From Lamentation to Celebration

How is it that I, a mother of three, and my friend, a mother of three, have such fervent beliefs — and that our beliefs are absolutely incompatible?

One of us believes that an unwanted life is worse than intentionally inflicted death, that a person who can’t survive on his or her own doesn’t have the rights of personhood, and that if we declare life to begin at birth, then that is when it begins. The other believes that murder is not a viable solution to any problem, that life is a gift and responsibility that can’t be thrown off at will, and that neither mother nor doctor has the right to kill.

We quiver with conviction in describing our views to the other. I celebrate the end of Roe in my country without reservation. She decries it without reservation.

The thing is, fifteen years ago, I would have been lamenting right along with her.

Godlessness Births Hatred

At the nominal Christian college I attended, my career-driven friends and I didn’t analyze our deepest assumptions about our futures. We didn’t realize that our vision for life was deeply influenced by the air we were all breathing, which was a confusing blend of nineties purity movement and second-wave feminism. We only knew that we were expected to “have it all,” and even I, with my stay-at-home-mom aspirations, was unwilling to imagine a life that didn’t include some kind of glorious accomplishment out in the “real world.”

A few years after graduating, having walked away from church and faith, I found myself in the pregnancy test aisle at Walgreens. Would I keep it? I thought — and then was shocked by the question. I’d grown up staunchly defensive of the unborn. But for the first time, I was actually experiencing the fear of an unwanted pregnancy. I felt the despair of not liking the world enough to bring a child into it. I imagined the reaction from friends, family, and former church members when they saw me and my baby, alone against the world.

Until that day, I had never understood the close link between godlessness and death. I don’t just mean that the wages of sin is death (it is). I mean that within just a few years of rejecting God as Father, I was also willing to reject life itself. I would have preferred not to live, and I couldn’t imagine a baby in my womb would make a different choice. My godless view of the world had created a hatred of the world, and of existence itself. Motherhood would have meant embracing life as good and worthwhile. I knew I didn’t have it in me.

God didn’t give me a baby that year. I never had to test how far my hatred of life would go.

Fearing Life in an Unsafe World

A few months later, God saved my soul, and he brought a man into my life a year after that. As the years passed, he gave me three precious children. I am currently expecting a fourth. I am far enough along that if I wanted to end the heartbeat that I’ve now heard half a dozen times, I’d have to drive to one of about six states in the country.

When you spend all your time nurturing life, feeding life, telling young children about the wonders of life, it’s harder to remember what it was like when death seemed preferable to life. But I can still put my finger on that fear, especially in the early hours of the morning if I awake from a nightmare or hear my child coughing. It’s the fear of life itself. The fear of responsibility’s weight.

Even in my latest pregnancy, I still experience that fear of bringing new life into a world that is in one sense totally unsafe. Even under the protection of marriage and family, my children are held only by God’s hand, and I still have to wrestle with him daily over the promises he’s made for them (and the promises he hasn’t). I now understand more deeply than ever how pain and fear is part of the curse connected to motherhood, and how only in Christ can any of us see the world as it is: a place of hope, joy, blessing, and ultimate victory over sin and death. It is a place worth bringing children into — but only because it’s a place ruled by a kind and loving Father.

“This world is a place worth bringing children into — but only because it’s a place ruled by a kind and loving Father.”

And yet, without the lens of hope that drops into place when we embrace the kingship of Christ, death seems stronger than life — and sometimes even preferable. We all are living with our terminal disease, in a world with its own terminal disease.

Besides the realities of death and curse, we all inherit cultural attitudes toward motherhood without knowing we’ve done so. We all breathe air from a place that chooses to see child and elder care as unskilled labor, which we outsource to the less educated. It’s a place that sees motherhood as the final cap on a pyramid of career moves — just one more accomplishment to adorn a more necessary list. It’s a place that tells its women to throw off encumbrances (including people) that keep us from tending to ourselves first and always. It’s a place that disincentivizes fatherhood and subsidizes abandonment and murder. It’s a place that has managed to sell women the word empowerment, by which she trades love and commitment for the total loss of self and becomes a sexual commodity for the pleasure of men who have no intention of cherishing her humanity.

True Value of Motherhood

Motherhood is valuable. It’s not valuable like a Precious Moments card; it’s valuable like time is valuable, like life itself is valuable. It’s valuable with the kind of value that God names when he blesses meek things, quiet things, unseen things. It has a value that reaches beyond the fiscal, that asks better questions than “Can I earn more than the babysitter I pay to watch my children while I’m gone?” and “Do unwanted pregnancies result in children who are a burden to the church and state?”

This is what’s valuable in God’s economy: life, because he made it; and love, because he embodies and commands it.

And looking at life and love as fundamentally valuable means that we look at motherhood as the stewardship of something fundamentally valuable. A single mother is the steward of something fundamentally valuable. A married middle-aged mother is the steward of something fundamentally valuable. An adoptive mother is the steward of something fundamentally valuable.

A woman who accepts the call to motherhood steps into a story written by someone else. She steps in despite inevitable fear and pain. She steps in to demonstrate in her own body the unanswerable story of life triumphing over death. Motherhood is God’s inventive answer to the question, “Is life good, or isn’t it?”

And when the laws of the land step forward to throw the burden of proof back onto death (instead of onto life for mothers and children), that law has made a step toward confirming and proclaiming the truths built into God’s world and word.

Thou Shall Not Kill

When Roe was struck down, more was accomplished than the erection of more hoops for abortion-minded mothers to jump through. It was a moral marker for our nation. Every time a human government makes or upholds legislation that reflects accurately the good established by God in his world and word, it functions the way it was meant to function. It sends a message about what is right and what is wrong. It establishes a moral code that does in fact work in the hearts of the people.

I rejoice in the reversal because of lives saved. But I also rejoice the way I always rejoice when truth is declared, from any lips, in any forum. A breath of fresh air blows through the nation in the form of sanity, as our human hearts are reminded of a law that was stamped there before we knew ourselves, stamped without our own consent: Thou shalt not kill.

For My Friend on the Other Side

As I continue talking with my friend, I gently press for logical consistency by asking questions about rights. When does the infant in the womb become human? On what basis do we confer the right to live? If the baby has no right to live until it has passed through the birth canal, what about a few moments after it has passed through? A few minutes before? If we confer the right to live only on human beings who are competent to survive, what does that mean for the disabled child or adult, or even for a healthy baby in the first few years after it’s born? She keeps talking with me, and for that I’m grateful.

As we talk, I’m aware that underneath the logical issues about human rights, the strength of her beliefs has more to do with the pain of motherhood under the shadow of death. What she really wonders is, Is life good, or isn’t it?

Does someone have a sure hand on the steering wheel of this dangerous world, or not? Should we not limit life on the earth when life is so difficult and dangerous? Is there any possible reason to do what is right in obedience to the King who reigns justly, to embrace the gift of life even when the costs are so high? Could his promises possibly be true, really true, when he says that soon, every tear will be wiped away, “and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4)? Will we see him face to face and hear his account of everything sad coming untrue?

When I look this last question in the eye, it’s too much for me to bear. I know it’s too much for her heart too, if she ever thinks of it in the watches of the night. Some things seem too good to be true.

In this first session, I would like for us to linger together in my favorite eldership passage: 1 Peter 5:1–5. But before I read those verses and pray for our time together, let’s mark the word “So” at the beginning of verse 1. “So” links this passage to chapter 4 and therefore to the hard times Peter and these elders knew.

First Peter 4:12 mentions “fiery trials.” Verse 13, “sufferings.” Verse 14, “insults.” Verses 15, 16, 19: “suffer,” “suffers,” “suffer.” This is a passage for pastor-elders who know hard times, like the last three years may have been for some.

Bright and inspiring as the words of 1 Peter 5:1–5 can be, they are set against a dark backdrop. Don’t miss this context. The joys of pastoral ministry are not joys in a vacuum. They are amazing joys, accentuated and deepened against the backdrop of struggle and hardship and suffering. In the endless challenges of pastoral ministry, its joys shine out all the clearer.

And note how Peter gets to elders in chapter 5. A context of suffering makes the teaching and leadership of the elders all the more essential. Pastor-elders, and their teaching and leading, are always vital to congregational health, but especially in suffering.

Gift of the Great Shepherd

So, 1 Peter 5:1–5:

So I exhort the elders among you, as a fellow elder and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as well as a partaker in the glory that is going to be revealed: shepherd the flock of God that is among you, exercising oversight, not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you; not for shameful gain, but eagerly; not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock. And when the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory. Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”

One of the most precious promises in all the Bible for pastors is Jesus’s words in Matthew 16:18: “I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” Jesus is the chief Shepherd; he is “the Shepherd and Overseer of [our] souls” (1 Peter 2:25; 5:4). He is “the great shepherd of the sheep” (Hebrews 13:20). He builds his church. And his work will not fail. He will prevail — over hell, and sin, and death, and disease, and division.

And one of the ways Christ builds and governs his church, and blesses her, is by giving her the gift of local leaders under him: “He gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ” (Ephesians 4:11–12).

Faithful pastors and elders are a gift from Christ to guide and keep his church. As pastors, this is a truth that may not be healthy to regularly emphasize in public (as it will seem self-serving), but it can be good to have someone else say it to you from time to time. So that’s what I’d like to do here at the outset of our time together today: brother pastors and elders, you are a gift from the risen Christ to your flock.

No matter what that recent email said. No matter how flat the last sermon fell. No matter what you hear whispered about leaders in society (not to mention the cynical thoughts that aren’t whispered). No matter what that person posted online about your church or your elder team, or you in particular — and you didn’t see it, but your wife saw it and said, “Did you see this?”

No matter what has been said explicitly or implied to the contrary, you, dear brother, as you lean on Christ and remain faithful to his word — you are a gift from him to your church.

Of course, we pastors and elders are flawed and sinful. Some who carry the name “pastor” have made terrible mistakes, sinned grievously, fleeced their flocks, and harmed the very ones they were commissioned to protect. But such failures were not owing to the biblical vision of what true leadership is. Rather, such failures fell short of God’s vision, or departed from it altogether. In fact, such failures show — by way of contrast — what real leadership in the church should be.

That’s our focus today: what Christ calls leaders in his church to be — especially the “lead office” or “teaching office” in the church, that of “pastor” or “elder” or “overseer,” three terms in the New Testament for the same lead office.

Preliminary Observations

Now, in this session, I want us to give most of our focus to the three not-but pairs in verses 2–3, but first let me make three preliminary observations on the passage, which are vital to the vision of eldership and pastoral ministry that we’ll be rehearsing today.

1. Elders are plural.

Elders is plural in 1 Peter 5:1. One of the most important truths to rehearse about Christian ministry is that Christ means for it to be teamwork. As in 1 Peter 5, so in every context in which local-church pastor-elders are mentioned in the New Testament, the title is plural.

Christ alone reigns as Lord of the church. He is head (Ephesians 1:22; 5:23; Colossians 1:18), and he alone. The glory of singular leadership in the church is his alone. And he means for his undershepherds to labor, and thrive, not alone but as a team.

The kind of pastors we long for in this age are good men with good friends — friends who love them enough to challenge their instincts, tell them when they’re mistaken, hold them to the fire of accountability, and make life both harder and better, both more uncomfortable and more fruitful.

Now, if pastoral ministry for you is not teamwork, if you find yourself in a lone pastor-elder situation, for whatever reason, I don’t think that means you’re in error or sin. But I do think it’s an error to prefer it, and not dream toward more, and pray for more, and take some modest steps toward looking for and raising up the kind of men who could minister alongside you.

So, number one, elders here (as elsewhere in the New Testament) are plural.

2. Elders are pastors.

Second, observe the main verb in 1 Peter 5:1–5, which is Peter’s charge to the elders: “shepherd the flock of God.” Shepherd, as a verb, is a rich image. Consider all that shepherds do: they feed, water, tend, herd, protect, guide, lead to pasture, govern, care for, nurture. To shepherd is a picture of what we might call “benign rule” (the opposite of “domineering,” as we’ll see). In shepherding, the good of the shepherd is bound up with the good of the sheep.

The concept of shepherding also has a rich Old Testament background, not just in the patriarchs and the nation of Israel in Egypt and in the wilderness, but also in King David, the shepherd boy who became the nation’s great king, God’s anointed one, who came to anticipate the greater Anointed One to come.

So, with David, and in the prophets, shepherding takes on messianic overtones. David, of course, had his own grave failures in shepherding the nation, but after David, the trend of the nation’s kings became worse and worse, with only a couple exceptions.

Shepherds Feed

Five centuries later, the prophet Ezekiel condemned the nation’s leaders for “feeding themselves” rather than feeding the sheep:

Ah, shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep? You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fat ones, but you do not feed the sheep. The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought, and with force and harshness you have ruled them. (Ezekiel 34:2–4)

The appointed leaders of God’s people should have fed them, not fed on them. They should have strengthened their people, and sought them out, and healed them, bound up their wounds, brought them back to God, but instead they governed them “with force and harshness” — not benign rule but malignant rule.

So, the people long for a shepherd, a king, who will rule them with strength and gentleness, with clarity and kindness, with decisiveness and persuasion and patience and grace, even as he protects them from their enemies. And in response, again and again, God not only says, “I will rescue my flock,” but also, “I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd” (Ezekiel 34:22–23). Note the prominence of feeding in shepherding.

The Good Shepherd’s Charge

The prophet Micah foretells that from Bethlehem, the city of David, will “come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel” (Micah 5:2; Matthew 2:6). During his life, Jesus himself says he is the good shepherd (John 10:11), who, rather than taking from his sheep, comes to give, and to give them life, and even to give his own life for them. He is the long-promised Shepherd.

Then amazingly, at the end of the Gospel of John, when Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him (this same Peter who wrote 1 Peter), Peter says yes, and then Jesus says three times to him, “Feed my lambs,” “Tend my sheep,” and “Feed my sheep” (John 21:15–17).

Here “feeding” and “shepherding” (or “pastoring”) are synonymous. Jesus, the good shepherd, has finally come, and given himself as the Lamb for his sheep, but now he is leaving, and now he will pastor his sheep through Peter and other undershepherds — not just apostles, but local-church elders, overseers, pastors.

So Paul says in Acts 20:28 to the elders in Ephesus, “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock [!], in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to care for [that is, pastor] the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood.” The elders are also overseers, and they are to “care for” — or literally, pastor — “the church of God” (elders = overseers = pastors).

Finally, in the book of Revelation, we find two images of Jesus as shepherd. The Lamb, as shepherd, “will guide them to springs of living water” (Revelation 7:17), and in three texts, he will rule “with a rod of iron” (Revelation 2:27; 12:5; 19:15). Which doesn’t mean he is forceful or harsh with his people, but that he protects them from their enemies (with his rod). The shepherd’s rod and staff are for protecting and guiding his flock: “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).

Elders shepherd. That’s just a quick taste of the richness in this shepherding image: centrally, feeding and watering (“green pastures” and “still waters,” Psalm 23:2), but also protecting. Shepherding means caring for the sheep, and leading with gentleness and kindness, with persuasion and patience, and wielding the rod of protection with strength and decisiveness toward various threats to the flock.

So, elders is plural, and elders are pastors.

3. Elders exercise oversight.

A third and final preliminary observation, more briefly: the verb that augments “shepherd” is “exercising oversight” (episkopountes). It’s a form of the noun overseer used in Acts 20:28, as well as in four other New Testament texts (Philippians 1:1; 1 Timothy 3:2; Titus 1:7; 1 Peter 2:25). “Oversee” in this context doesn’t mean only to watch and observe, but also to “see to it” that important observations about the flock, and any threats to it, also become tangible initiatives and actions in the church.

Which brings us to the heart of this passage, where Peter gives us three “not-buts” — not this but that. Verses 2–3: “Shepherd the flock of God that is among you, exercising oversight . . .

not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you;
not for shameful gain, but eagerly;
not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock.”

Let’s take them in reverse order.

1. Not Domineering, but Exemplifying

We saw God’s condemnation for the leaders of Israel who ruled “with force and harshness.” Peter says, “not domineering” — which is the same language elsewhere translated “not lording it over.” It’s built on a strong verb (katakurieuo) that can refer in other contexts to

Jesus’s lordship (Romans 14:9; 1 Timothy 6:15);
the kind of lordship sin once had, and should no longer have, over us (Romans 6:9, 14; 7:1);
or the kind of lordship Christian leaders do not have over those in their charge (Luke 22:25).

The intensified form of the verb here in 1 Peter 5 is the same one Jesus uses in Mark 10:42–43:

Those who are considered [dokeō, seeming, purporting, thinking (hoi dokountes archein)] rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you.

Okay, then, what will be so among us? Verses 43–45:

But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

So, the opposite of “not lording it over” others is serving them, assisting their good, attending to their joy. Like Christ himself, not coming to be served but to serve; not to be assisted, but to assist; not to be attended to, but to attend to.

With the same language, Paul says to the Corinthians about his labors as an apostle, “Not that we lord it over your faith, but we work with you for your joy” (2 Corinthians 1:24). As in Mark 10, “lord it over” implies the exercise of privilege, the seeking and obtaining of personal or private benefit — benefit from them (versus through or with them).

Paul’s vision of the opposite in leadership is “[working] with you for your joy.” The “we” here is Paul with his assistants Timothy and Silas (2 Corinthians 1:19). He says, “we work”: we give effort, expend energy; it is not just overflow but work, labor (as Jesus says in Matthew 9:37–38: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest”). It might begin almost effortlessly, as overflow, but then it takes effort (sometimes great effort) to complete. Spiritual leadership, pastoral ministry is work, requiring a work ethic. And Paul, of all people, was not one to suffer laziness, and especially among pastor-elders.

But this work isn’t alone. Not only is there a “we” in the company of the leaders, but it’s also “with you” — with the people. Pastors equip the saints to engage, expend effort, and invest energy — to work with us (which is vital to keep in mind in our discipling and counseling; we work with them, not instead of them). We don’t do it all for them; we go the extra mile, putting in more work, to win them to leaning in, working with us, taking responsibility, not just being consumers.

And that work, Paul says, is “for your joy.” Not thin, fleeting sugar highs. He’s talking real, deep, lasting, long-term, durable joy in Christ. Joy that tastes of the next age even in this painful, evil one. In Christian joy, our promised, blissful future in Christ is brought into the painful present — which means the frictions and sufferings of our present times do not preclude real joy even now but make us all the more desperate for real joy.

So, Christian leaders, as workers for the joy of their people, are not to be controlling and domineering, lording over them. Rather, they are to serve (in the words of Jesus), as workers for their people’s joy (in the words of Paul) and as examples to the flock (in the words of Peter): “not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock.”

2. Not for Shameful Gain, but Eagerly

“Shameful gain” would be some benefit not befitting of the work — or some gain for the leader that is not a gain, but a loss, for the flock, and the glory of Christ — whether it’s money as the driving motivation, or power, or respect, or comfort, or the chance to perform and be on the platform. In terms of “eagerness,” the epistle to the Hebrews gives this important glimpse into the dynamic of Christian leadership as workers for the joy of the flock:

Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with groaning, for that would be of no advantage to you. (Hebrews 13:17)

Hebrews 13:17 is the reason John Piper says that “there is a joy without which pastors cannot profit their people.” This is a beautiful, marriage-like vision of the complementary relationship between the church and its leaders.

The leaders, for their part, labor, they work hard, for the advantage — the profit, the gain — of the church. And the church, for its part, wants its leaders to work not only hard but happily, without groaning, because the pastors’ joy in leading will lead to the church’s own benefit. The people want their leaders to labor with joy because they know their leaders are working for theirs.

Christ gives leaders to his people for their joy. Pastors are glad workers for the gladness of their people in God. And if the people see evidence of this, and become convinced of this, how eager might they be to submit to such leaders? The prospect of submitting to leadership drastically changes when you are persuaded that they aren’t pursuing their own private advantage but are genuinely seeking yours: what is best for you, what will give you the deepest and most enduring joy — when they find their joy in yours, rather than apart from or instead of yours.

The word submission has negative connotations today in many circles. But how might the charge to “submit” in Hebrews 13:17 and “be subject” in 1 Peter 5:5 change when we see it in the context of this vision of shepherding and oversight and pastoring as working for the joy of our people? There’s no charge to submit in verse 5 until verses 2–4 establish a context of “workers for your joy” who are willing, eager, and exemplary: they feed the flock, not themselves; they attend to the flock’s needs, not their own; they gain as the flock gains, not as the flock loses.

Have you ever considered what actions and initiatives and care are required in the New Testament, from husbands and fathers and governors and pastor-elders, before the charge is given to submit?

Husbands, love and be kind, not harsh (Colossians 3:19); then, wives, submit.
“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger” (Ephesians 6:4), but to what? Joy! Gratitude! Then, children, submit.
Civil governors, be God’s servants for society’s good, avenging wrongdoing (Romans 13:1, 4; 1 Peter 2:13); then, citizens, submit.
Pastors, feed the flock through public teaching (1 Corinthians 14:34) and paying careful attention to (Acts 20:28) and keeping watch over (1 Timothy 4:16) the flock; then, flock, submit.

Godly pastor-elders give of themselves, their time, their energy, their attention, to work for the joy of the flock. Therefore, church, submit to your leaders. In Hebrews 13:17, negatively, God will hold the pastors accountable, and positively, it will be to your advantage, church, to your benefit, to your joy, if you let them labor with joy, for your joy, and not with groaning.

When we, as leaders in the church, show ourselves to be workers for their joy, we walk in the steps of the great shepherd — the great worker for our joy — the one who bore the greatest cost for others’ good, and not to the exclusion of his own joy. He found his joy in the joy of his Beloved. “For the joy that was set before him [he] endured the cross” (Hebrews 12:2). Or, in the words of Isaiah 53:11, “Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied.”

As workers for the church’s joy, we pastors emphatically pursue gain — not shameful gain but the shameless gain that is our joy in the joy of the church, to the glory of Christ. Joy now, and joy in the coming shameless reward: “When the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory” (1 Peter 5:4).

So, “not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock,” and “not for shameful gain, but eagerly.” Now, finally . . .

3. Not Under Compulsion, but Willingly

Brothers, our churches want happy pastors. Not dutiful clergy. Not groaning ministers. The kind of pastors our people want are pastors who want to do the work, and labor with joy for their joy. They want pastors who serve “not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have [them]” (1 Peter 5:2).

Did you hear that? Not just our people, but God himself wants pastors who labor willingly, from the heart, not under compulsion. He wants us to aspire to the work (1 Timothy 3:1), and do it with joy (Hebrews 13:17). Not dutifully, or under obligation, but willingly, eagerly, and happily.

And that phrase “as God would have you” does not mean that God requires something of us that is different from his own character and actions. “As God would have you” means “as God himself is” and does — literally, “according to God” (kata theon). Like God. Like he is and does — that’s how he likes it.

It says something about our God that he would have it this way. He is the infinitely happy “blessed God” (1 Timothy 1:11) who acts from the boundless, immeasurable bliss of the eternal Godhead. He wants pastors to work with joy because he works with joy. He acts from fullness of joy. He is a God most glorified not by heartless duty, but by our eagerness and enjoyment, and he himself cares for his people willingly, eagerly, and happily.

Happy pastors and elders, not groaning pastors and elders, make for happy churches and a glorified Savior. Pastors who enjoy the work, and work with joy, are a benefit and an advantage to their people (Hebrews 13:17).

Two Ways Toward Joy

Let’s close this first session, then, with two practical manifestations of this vision. I have two suggestions, among others, for what it might mean for you, as pastors (or aspiring pastors), to be a worker with your people for their joy in Christ. One private, early morning one. One corporate, late-night one (at least “late-night” for our pastors, as we do our meetings every other Thursday night at 8:30, after our kids’ bedtimes).

There are countless implications of this vision, whether for discipling, or counseling, or your scheduling and calendar, or sermon prep, or husbanding and fathering, or sleep and exercise, and on and on. But let me start with just two. What does it look like for me to pursue my joy in the joy of our people (to the glory of God)?

1. Alone in the Morning

In the words of George Müller, my “first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day” is “to have my soul happy in the Lord.” My prayer is that this would land on you as not a burden but a blessing, not an obligation but an opportunity — not a have to as much as a get to. To feed on God, to get our souls happy in him, not with the accent on us but on him. He gives, we receive. He speaks, we listen. We come hungry, and he says, “I am the bread of life” (John 6:35). We come thirsty, and he says, “Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters” (Isaiah 55:1). Müller says,

The first thing to be concerned about [is] not how much I might serve the Lord [what I might do for others’ joy] . . . but how I might get my soul into a happy state, and how my inner man might be nourished.

How did he pursue this? Müller’s focus, in his words, was “the reading of the word of God and . . . meditation on it” — oh, the joys of unhurried, even leisurely, meditation on the words of God himself — “that thus my heart might be comforted, encouraged, warned, reproved, instructed; and that thus, while meditating, my heart might be brought into experimental communion with the Lord.”

How did he go about approaching God’s word? He would meditate, he said, “searching, as it were, into every verse to get blessing out of it; not for the sake of public ministry of the word; not for the sake of preaching on what I had meditated upon; but for the sake of obtaining food for my soul.”

2. Together as a Team

How often in our call to govern, to lead through prayer and collective wisdom and decision-making for the church, do we find two (or more) options lying before us?

This is a good moment to check ourselves. What is our framework for the decisions of leadership? It can be easy to slip into a selfish mindset: what is easiest, what’s most convenient for those of us sitting around the table. Without saying it, or thinking it explicitly, how might our preferences and comforts shape this church? How might church life be more convenient for us? Rather than asking, Which path, so far as we can tell, will be best for our people’s true joy in Christ?

But beware: when you ask a question like this, and answer in light of it, you find that the answer is often the path that is more costly to the pastors and elders. But this is the work to which we are called, as workers for their joy. If our team of pastors and elders trends toward the personal preferences and conveniences of the pastors and elders, then we are not loving our people well. We are not working with them for their joy. We are using them for ours.

But when we are “workers for their joy” — knowing that Christ is most glorified in his church when his church is most satisfied in him — then, from joy, we set aside our own convenience and personal preferences, and together we labor for the joy of our people in Jesus.