Bishop Barron in “Frank Disagreement” with Synod on Synodality’s report on “Development of Moral Teaching”
“To say that this multilayered, philosophically informed, theologically dense system is incapable of handling the subtleties of human sexuality is just absurd,” Barron said.
“But the deeper problem I have is that this manner of argumentation is based upon a category error— namely, that advances in the sciences, as such, require an evolution in moral teaching,” he added.
“Let us take the example of homosexuality. Evolutionary biology, anthropology, and chemistry might give us fresh insight into the etiology and physical dimension of same-sex attraction, but they will not tell us a thing about whether homosexual behavior is right or wrong. The entertaining of that question belongs to another mode of discourse.”
A misperceived “tension between love and truth”
The bishop also noted that during discussions at the October synod assembly, there was a “perceived tension between love and truth,” particularly around the issue of outreach to the LGBT community.
“Practically everyone at the synod held that those whose sexual lives are outside of the norm should be treated with love and respect, and, again, bravo to the synod for making this pastoral point so emphatically. But many synod participants also felt that the truth of the Church’s moral teaching in regard to sexuality ought never to be set aside,” Barron said.
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The Destruction of the Church As Metaphor
Written by Forrest L. Marion |
Monday, February 13, 2023
Based on the historical record, there is little doubt that at the time of its destruction Washington Street Methodist had been – for three decades – a powerhouse of gospel-focused labor aimed at improving the prospects for eternity of the enslaved population of South Carolina, and beyond.As Northern victory drew near in 1865, on the night of February 17/18 troops under General William T. Sherman set fire to the Washington Street Methodist Church in Columbia, South Carolina. Legend has it – highly plausible – that the soldiers intended to burn down the First Baptist Church. But when approached and queried by Union soldiers as to the Baptist church’s location, First Baptist’s quick-thinking sexton directed the soldiers around the corner to the Methodist church. Within minutes, that church was in flames. So goes the story.
Without a doubt, however, the First Baptist Church was where the first day’s meeting of the secession convention met, on December 17, 1860. But a smallpox epidemic had struck Columbia, so the delegates relocated to Charleston for the remainder of the convention, which voted unanimously on December 20 to withdraw from the Federal Union.
In America, the multitude of misunderstandings, ignorance, and errors of fact surrounding the political and social events from the 1860s are such that this little piece must refrain from addressing those important matters. Instead, it focuses on the burning of Washington Street Methodist and its relevance for today.
Washington Street Methodist is considered the mother church of all Methodists in Columbia. The first meeting house was a wooden structure built in 1804. In 1831, two men, Dr. William Capers – who pastored the church four times during his ministry (1818, 1831, 1835, 1846) – and William M. Kennedy, a former pastor and presiding elder of the Columbia district, laid the cornerstone of a new edifice, which was completed in 1832.
The first decades of the nineteenth century, known as the Second Awakening period, witnessed a mixed-bag of authentic gospel progress as well as more-or-less contrived professions of conversion and Christian faith which often were – and still are for historians – difficult to distinguish. William Capers, seemingly indefatigable and one of the few college-educated Methodist ministers in the area, was active as pastor, missionary, editor, and more. In 1821 he founded the Asbury Mission to the Creek Indians. Eight years later, he “took the lead in establishing plantation missions to slaves” among South Carolina Methodists. The same year, 1829, “Washington Street Church added 116 blacks to its roll.” (In 1830, Columbia’s population was 3,300.) Capers published a Catechism for the Use of the Methodist Missions (mainly for slaves), which, incidentally, is similar to the valuable children’s catechism used by some churches today (including in the PCA). Capers’s catechism began:
Who made you? God.What did he make you for? For his glory.Who is God? The Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.What do you know of him? God is holy, just and true.What else do you know of him? God is merciful, good and gracious.
Later, Capers’s missionary work spread to neighboring states. In the 1840s, Southern Methodists considered the mission to the slaves as “the crowning glory of our church.” When in 1855 Capers died, he had pastored Washington Street Church four times, his influence felt there even when not serving as their pastor. A fellow Methodist pastor preached his funeral service from Acts 13:36, “For David, after he had served his own generation by the will of God, fell on sleep.” A biographer of Capers wrote, “. . . a great many . . . of his beloved flock passed by the altar, where lay the body of the faithful shepherd. . . . It was particularly affecting to see the colored people pass before the coffin with a tear and a sigh.”
Based on the historical record, there is little doubt that at the time of its destruction Washington Street Methodist had been – for three decades – a powerhouse of gospel-focused labor aimed at improving the prospects for eternity of the enslaved population of South Carolina, and beyond.
Readers, try to set aside the all-too-common presentism of today. Dr. Capers and many others devoted themselves to providing the gospel of Jesus Christ to a segment of the population which otherwise was unlikely ever to hear the words of life in a manner suitable to their knowledge and understanding. Capers and a number of ministers in denominations in the South – especially Baptist, Presbyterian, and Episcopal – committed themselves to doing what they could. As the Puritan Matthew Henry wrote, if we may not do what we would, we must do what we could. The Southern ministers had no power to change the institutions of society at-large, even if some believed that to be part of the church’s calling.
The matter of the intentional burning down of any Christian church in a land where the vast majority at least nominally professed the God of the Bible is, of course, a troubling concern, but beyond the scope here. The fact was that Sherman’s men burned to it the ground – probably by mistake – the very church in Columbia that had done more than may be known on this side of glory for the souls of a poor and lowly people in the South.
The burning of Washington Street Methodist, then, is a metaphor in America today for the terrible destruction wrought by those who – regardless of their intent – confidently think themselves pure, righteous above all others. We are surrounded by those who never build anything – they only destroy. While the 94th Psalm refers to a throne, a broader aperture is fair for the purpose here: “Can a throne of destruction be allied with Thee, One which devises mischief by decree?” (94:20). And from Isaiah (with allowance for context), “Who among us can live with continual burning?” (33:14). Christians – those who build, not burn – must think rightly about the controversies of our day, and that means according to sola scriptura.
Forrest L. Marion is a member of First Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Crossville, Tenn
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To Lead Quiet and Peaceful Lives
We should pray that governing authorities, both local and federal, would not seek to thwart or suppress our faithful and public Christian witness. Opposing the witness of Christ’s church is foolish because opposing Christ’s church is opposing Christ himself (Acts 9:1–5). And that won’t end well.
In 1 Timothy 2:1–2, Paul wants believers to pray all kinds of prayers for all kinds of people. This practice is good and pleasing to God (1 Tim. 2:3). But what are the kinds of things we should pray for?
Paul says to pray for “kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way” (1 Tim. 2:2).
When Paul wrote those words to Timothy, the emperor in power was Nero (from AD 54–68), and Nero was an emperor who opposed Christians. Paul was eventually martyred sometime in the mid-60s, during Nero’s reign. Apparently Paul’s prayers for rulers weren’t contingent on their goodness or wisdom. In fact, Nero’s hostility and spiritual rebellion were reasons why Christians should pray!
Paul’s hope for the saints is that they could “lead a peaceful and quiet life” (1 Tim. 2:2). He’s talking here about a political and social climate that allows Christianity to thrive and not be suppressed. A “peaceful and quiet life” is the opposite of hostile or persecutorial conditions.
The biblical authors never tell us to pray for persecution. In fact, when Paul does tell believers what to pray for, he says to pray for those in high positions that we might live peaceful and quiet lives. That doesn’t necessarily mean the leaders will be Christians, though praying for leaders to be saved is an important part of the prayers we offer on their behalf.
People in positions of authority can make things harder for Christians to live as Christians and to spread the gospel. Paul calls believers to pray that leaders would govern in such a way that Christians could live peaceably. This kind of life means a convictional, faithful, public life, a life without the worldly powers seeking to suppress and thwart Christian devotion.
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The Silent Ministry Killer
The Lord Jesus Christ provides his church with the tools necessary to expose abusive ministers and protect young ministers. For example, he provides a roadmap for godly confrontation in Matthew 18. Most importantly, as the Good Shepherd, he models what it is to effectively shepherd the flock of God (John 10). Instead of preying upon the sheep as many of the Old Testament shepherds did, he laid down his life for the sheep.
Tom was a young pastor on a large pastoral staff. There were decisions being made by the senior pastor that he found concerning. When he spoke up, he was maligned. Ruling elders would harangue him. He was occasionally pulled from preaching duties even though his name was in the bulletin. He sought out help from other ministers in his Presbytery but was left to fend on his own.
Darrell, another young pastor, made the mistake of crossing swords with his senior pastor. He had slight theological differences with the pastor—still within the bounds of Scripture and the confessions—and this led to endless critique and disparagement. The pastor would even critique Darrell after he preached in front of the whole congregation and would openly attack him from the pulpit.
Mike arrived at a new church, ready to partner with the senior pastor and session in a fruitful and vibrant life of ministry. Soon after arriving, however, he realized that the pastor and elders were more likely to talk about him than to him and would often leave him out of the decision-making process. Without his realizing it, Mike’s position was being undermined from the beginning. By the time he was able to engage these elders in the light of day, he had already become a caricature and was subject to an ongoing stream of abuse.
All of these young pastors were driven from the churches where they served—dispirited, despondent, and wounded. No seminary class prepared them for dysfunctional and toxic ministerial relationships. The mechanisms for outside intervention were either undermined or thwarted. All of them were sustained by friends and mentors outside of the church who regularly prayed for them and encouraged them with precious truths from God’s Word.
Over the past several years, a good deal of attention has been paid to ministry killers like burnout and moral failure, but there is a silent killer that has ended many a fledgling ministry: A lack of care and often—proactive harm—of young ministers by dysfunctional ministry cultures. This problem is far more pervasive than we’d like to believe, but by God’s grace, there are many tools at our disposal to address this problem.
The Vulnerability of Young Ministers
Young ministers are exceptionally vulnerable when they first enter the pastoral ministry. They often think they know far more than they do and can be particularly strident and polemical in tone. Many have not yet been chastened by suffering and the pains and pleasures of the ministry. As with marriage and parenting, patience and gentleness develop through ongoing sanctification.
They also don’t know what they don’t know. Churches are reflective of the culture around them, and there are often decades of accumulated wisdom and customs that are outside the reach of a young minister. He doesn’t know that the flower arrangement in front of the sanctuary was picked out in honor of a beloved member who passed away and that suggesting something new might prompt conflict that could’ve otherwise been avoided.
Finally, young ministers come into the church with baggage like everyone else. They have their own unique sin struggles that could undermine their ministry to others. They also may have suffered at the hands of those in authority—whether at home or in the church—in childhood. As a result, a young minister might be particularly sensitive to the critiques of those in authority or need affirmation.
These are just some of the factors that make young ministers particularly vulnerable. Thus, they can be easy prey for others—particularly those in leadership roles—if they are not careful or have reliable guides to help them. This problem grows exponentially if they unwittingly enter a dysfunctional ministry culture.
Dysfunctional Ministry Cultures
As a young minister, how do you recognize the warning signs of a dysfunctional ministry—especially when a church, like the minister, is trying to put their best foot forward? Paul David Tripp describes pastoral ministry as a “dangerous calling” because it is so easy for a minister to find his identity in ministry rather than in Christ. This false identity then corrupts all the fruits of an otherwise faithful ministry. Most perniciously, it can lead pastors and elders to feed upon the flock rather than feeding them.
As Michael Kruger explains in his book, Bully Pulpit, a culture develops around an abusive shepherd that both defends and perpetuates the abuse. Such shepherds resist accountability and are often defended on the pragmatic grounds of a visibly fruitful ministry.
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