Audio Transcript

How will I find my ministry calling? Will I find it internally, like some impulse that will lead me to start a new thing? Or will my ministry calling come from the outside? Will it come from others telling me where I’m needed? This is a great question, and it comes in today from a listener named Caleb.

Caleb references a conference you preached at years back, Pastor John. Here’s his email: “Hello, Pastor John! At a conference, now many years ago, you went to Colossians 4:17 to argue that God gives ministries to his children. We don’t stumble upon our ministry; instead, he decisively ‘throws’ us into them, so to speak. Any chance you’d be willing to expand on how this works, and how it has worked for you in church and parachurch contexts? Thank you!”

First, let me share several passages of Scripture that caused me to say that we are not the decisive cause of being in any particular ministry — God is. And then I’ll step back and ask how that divine work is experienced in our minds and in our hearts so that we can make it more practical for people as they find their way into ministry and church or parachurch.

God Grants the Ministry

First, Paul says to the elders who are gathered in Acts 20:28, “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you [literally, “set you” or “put you” — etheto in Greek] overseers to care for the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood.” God put those elders there as elders. They did not put themselves there — God did, decisively.

“We are not the decisive cause of being in any particular ministry — God is.”

Second, Ephesians 4:11–12. Paul says that Christ “gave [to the church] 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.” These ministers of the church are the gift of the risen Christ to his body. They are where they are as a gift of Christ.

Third, in Matthew 9:37–38, Jesus says, “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.” And the word for “send out” is ekballō, “throw out.” He threw them into ministry. “Send out, throw, the laborers into the harvest.” So when the Lord answers this prayer, he does the decisive work and makes sure that the workers are where he wants them to be.

Fourth, Romans 10:13–15:

Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!”

Now, it’s possible for a rogue preacher to preach without being sent by a church or a mission agency. I don’t think that’s what Paul is talking about here. I think Paul is saying that nobody can preach authentically, nobody can preach with integrity for God, with God’s authority, unless he is sent by God. If anyone is preaching the gospel the way he ought as a faithful spokesman of God, he has been sent by God, not by himself. God is the decisive actor in putting them in that gospel-preaching ministry.

Fifth, Luke 12:41. Jesus had just told a parable about being ready for the second coming, and Peter says, “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for all?” And Jesus answers like this: “Who then is the faithful and wise manager, whom his master will set [or appoint] over his household, to give them their portion of food at the proper time?” So when Jesus thinks of pastors and teachers of his people, he thinks of them as stewards put over a household. He has appointed them. They are not there randomly. He has set them there, and they are to feed and take care of his house.

Sixth (and this is the last that I’m going to mention), there’s the text that Caleb referred to — namely, Colossians 4:17: “And say to Archippus, ‘See that you fulfill the ministry that you received in the Lord.’” So Archippus did not put himself in his ministry. He received the ministry from the Lord.

How We Experience God’s Calling

Now, those six passages are the reason that Caleb is right when he quotes me as saying, “We don’t stumble upon our ministries; instead, God decisively throws us into them.” But now, in practice — in the church, in parachurch ministries, wherever — we have to ask the question, How does God work inside of us, inside of people (in their mind, in their heart), so that they find themselves in the ministry where he’s putting them?

What’s the conscious experience of God’s work of guidance, of leading, in getting us to where he wants us to be? And I’ll mention just four things briefly that are typically the way God does it. And I say typically because he’s God and he can make exceptions to these.

Rising Desire in the Heart

First, there is ordinarily the rising in our hearts of a relentless and abiding desire for the work. Paul says in 1 Timothy 3:1, “If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task.” That certainly was true for me. Wow. In the two stages of my calling into the ministry, God exploded in the fall of 1966 when I was 20 years old with a relentless and abiding desire for the ministry of the word. And then he did the same thing in 1979, the fall of ’79, with a relentless and abiding desire for the proclamation of the word in the pastoral role. These desires were not flashes in the pan; they were deep and unshakable, and they overcame significant obstacles.

Fitness for the Ministry

Second, there is ordinarily a God-given fitness or giftedness for the ministry, which is shown both in a cluster of abilities that we have and in the fruit of people actually being helped spiritually by the use of those abilities — and all of that confirmed, not just by our own individual selves, but rather by the community of believers, and especially the most mature and discerning believers.

“There is ordinarily the rising in our hearts of a relentless and abiding desire for the work.”

Paul didn’t just say to the elder, “If you desire it, you’ve got it.” He gave a long list of qualifications (1 Timothy 3:1–7). So the person moves into a ministry role (1) because of a perceived set of abilities, and (2) because of some manifest fruit in people that are really being spiritually helped by those abilities, and then (3) through the mature brothers and sisters recognizing and confirming that fruit and giftedness.

Specific Encouragement

Third, there’s often a specific encouragement from other people that you should do this particular ministry. Paul said to Timothy, “I want you to go with me” (see Acts 16:3). That’s pretty direct. This happens very often. Someone says to another person, “I really think you should do this.” And it proves to be a providence from the Lord, an encouragement that gets them over the hump of hesitation.

Confidence in God’s Favor

And then finally, number four, there’s a correlation between our most consecrated, spiritually intense, wholly submitted moments on the one hand, and the sense of God’s favor and guidance for the ministry in those very moments on the other hand. In other words, when we feel most confident in God’s favor and guidance, those are the moments when we are least worldly, least unspiritual, least indifferent.

There’s a correlation between those seasons of life — when God seems to blow the cobwebs of worldliness and selfishness and greed and pride out of our heart — and it’s in those moments when we sense the leading toward this ministry most keenly and surely. God confirms them not in the carnal, selfish moments, but in the humble, brokenhearted, sacrificial, loving moments.

So, in summary, then, there are practical, relational, subjective experiences that move us toward ministry. But in the end, it is the hidden hand of God’s gracious providence that puts us, throws us, where he wants us to be.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/14811424/unity-in-truth-by-love-overview

If you had to choose five adjectives to describe God, would holy appear on the list? I trust so. Righteous probably would too. No doubt merciful or loving would be a shoo-in. But what about this divine descriptor: happy? Would that make your list?

It may sound somewhat strange, but God is happy. Happier than the happiest person you’ve ever known. Even before there was time, he was happy — infinitely happy within a triangle of love. From all eternity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (one God in three persons) delighted to share the joy of divinity with one another.

So, why did the triune God create the universe? Did he need something to complete him? No. Creation was an overflow of joy — not a filling up, but a spilling out. In extravagant generosity, the persons of the Trinity decided to share their boundless gladness with the work of their hands. You were made to be happy in a happy God.

And all of this has everything to do with your prayer life.

When Keller Discovered Prayer

Few people have taught me more about prayer than Tim Keller. He himself taught eloquently on the subject for decades before (at least in his estimation) he truly learned to pray. In a wide-ranging interview not long before his death, Keller was asked, “Looking back, is there anything you wish you had done differently in ministry?”

“Absolutely,” Keller replied. “I should have prayed more.”

In many ways, Keller’s Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God records experientially what he had long affirmed theologically. What happened is worth quoting at length:

In the second half of my adult life, I discovered prayer. I had to.

In the fall of 1999, I taught a Bible study course on the Psalms. It became clear to me that I was barely scratching the surface of what the Bible commanded and promised regarding prayer. Then came the dark weeks in New York after 9/11, when our whole city sank into a kind of corporate clinical depression, even as it rallied. For my family the shadow was intensified as my wife, Kathy, struggled with the effects of Crohn’s disease. Finally, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer.

At one point during all this, my wife urged me to do something with her we had never been able to muster the self-discipline to do regularly. She asked me to pray with her every night. Every night. She used an illustration that crystallized her feelings very well. As we remember it, she said something like this:

“Imagine you were diagnosed with such a lethal condition that the doctor told you that you would die within hours unless you took a particular medicine — a pill every night before going to sleep. Imagine that you were told that you could never miss it or you would die. Would you forget? Would you not get around to it some nights? No — it would be so crucial that you wouldn’t forget; you would never miss. Well, if we don’t pray together to God, we’re not going to make it because of all we are facing. I’m certainly not. We have to pray; we can’t let it just slip our minds.”

For both of us the penny dropped; we realized the seriousness of the issue, and we admitted that anything that was truly a nonnegotiable necessity was something we could do. (9–10)

Tim and Kathy maintained this unbroken streak night after night for more than twenty years — all the way through until the end of his life. But it wasn’t just a nightly discipline that changed him. He also began reading and studying, searching for help:

Kathy’s jolting challenge, along with my own growing conviction that I just didn’t get prayer, led me into a search. I wanted a far better personal prayer life. I began to read widely and experiment in prayer. As I looked around, I quickly came to see that I was not alone. (10)

Spoiler alert: his quest ultimately led to deeper engagement with, and fresh appreciation for, his own theological heritage. From Augustine in the fifth century all the way to Martyn Lloyd-Jones in the twentieth, Keller realized anew he didn’t have to choose between robust theology and vibrant experience. His own tradition featured both. “I was not being called to leave behind my theology and launch out to look for ‘something more,’ for experience. Rather, I was meant to ask the Holy Spirit to help me experience my theology” (16–17).

Keller has enriched my own experience of God by helping me to meditate on his Word, marvel at my adoption, adore him for his character, and step into divine joy.

1. Meditate Your Way to Delight

Can you relate to the disconnect between theology and experience? I sure can. God is the most glorious and satisfying person in the universe — I know this, I preach this, I write articles about this — and yet, before the splendor of his majesty, my heart can feel like a block of ice. The reason is often quite simple: I haven’t slowed down enough to really warm my heart — to thaw it — before the fire of God’s Word. I merely glance over a passage and get on with my day.

That doesn’t work. We must slow down and linger over the words of life. Biblical meditation is the music of prayer and involves a kind of two-step dance: first, Keller says, we think a truth out, and then we think it in until its ideas become “big” and “sweet,” moving and affecting — until the reality of God is sensed upon the heart (162).

This doesn’t mean we are chasing an experience; it means we are pursuing a living God. Above all, prayer isn’t merely “a way to get things from God but a way to get more of God himself” (21). This is staggering. Despite our distracted, fidgety, wandering defiance, he beckons us in and — wonder of wonders — offers us himself. And this is precisely what we need, since hearts wired for intimacy were made to be swept up into the life of the Trinity (e.g., John 17:21; 2 Peter 1:4; 1 John 1:3). As Keller explains, “We can see why a triune God would call us to converse with him, to know and relate to him. It is because he wants to share the joy he has. Prayer is our way of entering into the happiness of God himself” (68).

2. Remember Why He Listens

Another key to unlocking joy in prayer is to marvel at the doctrine of adoption — the glorious truth that God not only acquits believers in heaven’s courtroom but also welcomes us, as it were, into the living room.

Pondering this familial bond, and the intimacy it secures, has unparalleled power to nurture joy in drowsy hearts. The seventeenth-century minister Thomas Goodwin once recounted seeing a man and his young son walking along. Suddenly the father stopped, lifted up his boy, and said, “I love you.” The boy hugged his dad and said, “I love you too.” Then the father put him down and they kept walking. Now, here’s the question: was the child more legally a son in his father’s arms than when he was on the street? Of course not. But through the embrace, he vibrantly experienced his sonship.

This is what prayer offers us. The most ordinary believer in the world has access to “the most intimate and unbreakable relationship” with the Lord of the world. Just imagine, Keller says, what it takes to visit the president of the United States. Only those who merit his time and attention are granted entry. You must have credentials, accomplishments, and perhaps a power base of your own — unless, of course, you’re one of his children. That detail changes everything. Likewise, in prayer, we lean experientially — not just theologically — into the Father’s loving embrace (70).

Or as Keller put it in a sermon, in one of the most lovely images I’ve ever contemplated: The only person who dares wake up a king at 3:00 a.m. for a glass of water is a child. We have that kind of access.

3. Begin Your Prayers with Adoration

The pages of Scripture brim with summons to boldly approach our Father and lay our requests at his feet (e.g., Matthew 7:7–8; Philippians 4:6; Hebrews 4:16; James 4:2). Danger arises, though, when adoration becomes a mere afterthought — which reveals more about our self-absorbed hearts than we may care to acknowledge. Reflecting on the parable of the prodigal sons (Luke 15:11–32), Keller warns against an “elder-brother spirit” that robs our ability to enjoy the assurance of fatherly love. How might we detect if we’re succumbing to this danger?

Perhaps the clearest symptom of this lack of assurance is a dry prayer life. Though elder brothers may be diligent in prayer, there is no wonder, awe, intimacy, or delight in their conversations with God. . . . Elder brothers may be disciplined in observing regular times of prayer, but their prayers are almost wholly taken up with a recitation of needs and petitions, not spontaneous, joyful praise. (The Prodigal God, 72–73)

Though unsettling to admit, difficult things in life move us to petition far more readily than happy things move us to praise. One of the most practical “next steps” for your prayer life, then, is simply this: spend some unhurried time reveling in who God is. If you begin there — contemplating his character, gazing at his glory, praising him for his promises — then your heart will be ready to bring requests to his throne.

4. Pray to Get God Himself

God never promises to give believers all good things on our terms. What he promises, rather, is to work all things — even the bad — for our ultimate good (Romans 8:28). And when we don’t receive a good thing we want, we can rest in the knowledge that we already have the best thing. We have him. As Keller puts it, in God we have the headwaters of all we truly desire — even if a tributary of our joy goes dry.

And yet, God wants us to ask things of him. To protect us from pride and self-sufficiency, he rarely gives us what we want apart from prayer. But through prayer, our Father withholds nothing good from his children (Matthew 7:11). God delights to give himself in his gifts. Keller concludes:

Prayer is how God gives us so many of the unimaginable things he has for us. Indeed, prayer makes it safe for God to give us many of the things we most desire. It is the way we know God, the way we finally treat God as God. Prayer is simply the key to everything we need to do and be in life. (18)

The ability to converse with the King of the universe isn’t just an honor — it’s the glorious union of two disparate truths: awe before an infinite being and intimacy with a personal friend. Because we’re made to know a triune God — a merry, generous, hospitable community of persons — prayer is the furthest thing from a sterile concept or boring duty. It’s an invitation into unimaginable joy.