There is a way of telling history that focuses on the impact of the few great figures that rise up in any generation. This “great man theory” says that history can best be understood when we focus on the dominant figures of the time. History, it says, turns on the actions, decisions, obsessions, and natural abilities of the few and the extraordinary—the Luthers, the Napoleons, the Lincolns, the Churchills. Understand them, and you understand the world as it was and the world as it has become.
I think Christians sometimes understand the church through a similar grid. We assume that the few figures who rise in prominence at any time are the key to understanding the church as a whole—that they in some way represent the Christian faith at that time. Hence if we tell the story of the church in the early twenty-first century, we may tell it through the lives and ministries of Sproul, Packer, MacArthur, Stott, and Piper. We assume that if we understand them, we have gained a representative understanding of Christians and ministries during their time. Understand them, we think, and you’re understanding all of us.
The great man theory has generally fallen out of favor among historians for a good number of reasons, among them that it’s too simplistic and that it’s difficult (or even impossible) to prove. That’s not to deny, of course, that some people have an outsized impact on any generation. It’s simply to deny that history revolves around the few rather than the many. And it’s to deny that the church depends on the few rather than the many.
We are thankful for preachers of extraordinary ability—the kind who step up to the podiums at the major Christian conferences or whose voice goes out over the airwaves. We are grateful for their ministries and grateful for all the ways we have benefited from their words. But at the same time, we know that the cause of the gospel would grind to a halt if it were not for 10,000 preachers of average ability—the kind who step up to pulpits in living rooms, school gymnasiums, and little churches far out into the countryside. Take away any one of those great men and the church would carry on unhindered; take away those ten thousand unknown men and the result would be catastrophic.
Similarly, we are thankful for those Christians of extraordinary wealth whose grand acts of generosity can make such a difference to churches and ministries. We enjoy reading about those individuals, families, or trusts who have made it their goal to give away vast amounts of wealth to the best of all causes. But if those families were to disappear or spend their last dollar, the church would survive just fine. However, if we were to take away the faithful giving of the ten thousands upon ten thousands who bring little more than their two copper coins, the ministry of the local church would be harshly hindered.
The most crucial work of ministry has little to do with “out there” in the wider Christian world and everything to do with “in here” in the local church.Share
We are thankful for the experts in marriage and parenting and a host of other important issues, experts who teach courses and lead seminars before great crowds. But most of us have had our marriages and parenting transformed far more by the examples before us each week in the local church. If the experts were to close down their seminars and shut down their conferences, the church would grieve for a moment, and then press on. But if the ordinary believers in your church and mine were to stop mentoring the people they see each and every Sunday, the church would be devastated. The most crucial work of ministry has little to do with “out there” in the wider Christian world and everything to do with “in here” in the local church. It has little to do with the few and the famous and far more to do with the many and the unknown.
It is good to thank God for those few men and few women who have been granted high podiums and wide ministries, and who have made their mark on so many of us. We truly thank the Lord for them. But they are not the story of what God is accomplishing in this world. The true story happens when the church gathers as God’s local community here and there, near and far, week by week. It’s in these little communities that God carries out the best of his purposes and in them that we see the strength of his hand.

This week’s Free Stuff Fridays is sponsored by Zondervan Reflective, who also sponsored the blog this week.

They are giving away FIVE 3-packs of J. Warner Wallace’s NEWEST book Person of Interest so you can do a reading group with your family or friends.
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Can the truth about Jesus be uncovered—even without a body or a crime scene? Join cold-case detective and bestselling author J. Warner Wallace as he investigates Jesus using an innovative and unique approach he employs to solve real missing person murder cases.
In Person of Interest, Wallace carefully sifts through the evidence from history alone, without relying on the New Testament. You’ll understand like never before how Jesus, the most significant person in history, changed the world.
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Explore and learn how to respond to common objections to Christianity

Detective J. Warner Wallace listened to a pastor talk about Jesus and wondered why anyone would think Jesus was a person of interest.
Wallace was skeptical of the Bible, but he’d investigated several no-body homicide cases in which there was no crime scene, no physical evidence, and no victim’s body. Could the historical life and actions of Jesus be investigated in the same way?
In Person of Interest, Wallace describes his own personal investigative journey from atheism to Christianity as he carefully considers the evidence. Creative, compelling, and fully illustrated, Person of Interest will strengthen the faith of believers while engaging those who are skeptical and distrusting of the New Testament.
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It is something you tend to hear a lot when you have endured a time of significant sorrow or suffering: “I know it’s nothing compared to yours, but…” We have a natural tendency to compare—to compare our experiences to another person’s and to rank or rate them accordingly. The person who has suffered the loss of a job feels awkward when speaking to someone who has suffered the loss of a spouse, the person who has suffered the loss of a parent to someone who has suffered the loss of a child.
Of course, the comparison can go two ways. It can be a comparison from the lesser to the greater where one person expresses their sorrow, but also insists that theirs must be smaller. “Who am I to grieve the loss of my job when you have lost your spouse?” Or it can be a comparison from the greater to the lesser, where someone expresses their sorrow in such a way that it makes another person’s seem wrong or inappropriate. “Who are you to grieve the loss of your mother when I have lost my daughter?”
Yet I am convinced there is little benefit in comparing sorrow. No one gains comfort by diminishing their grief in relation to another person’s. Likewise, no one gains comfort by amplifying their grief in relation to another person’s. Grief deserves comfort, but comparison is not comforting.
And that is because grief is an appropriate response to difficult circumstances. The loss of a job truly is sad and the loss of a parent truly is heartbreaking. Yes we do well to maintain some sense of proportion so that we do not mourn the loss of a pet to the degree that we mourn the loss of a spouse, but every grief is a consequence of humanity’s fall into sin and a part of living in a broken world. In every grief we lament not only the circumstance but also the greater reality of the brokenness of this world and the brokenness of our own selves. These things hurt because they are hurtful, we grieve them because they are grievous. It is right and appropriate to feel and express our sorrows without amplifying or diminishing the weight of them.
In every grief we lament not only the circumstance but also the greater reality of the brokenness of this world and the brokenness of our own selves. Share
We would do well to learn from our God who is compassionate to us in our sorrows. The Father does not diminish our sorrows by saying, “Has the entirety of humanity ever sinned against you? Have you ever created people in your image and then seen them commit treason against you?” Christ does not diminish our sorrows by saying, “Have you ever been crucified? Have you ever faced the wrath of the Father?” The Spirit does not diminish our sorrows by saying, “Have you ever been sinned against by people you have lovingly chosen to indwell?” Our Triune God is fully compassionate despite witnessing atrocities far beyond any we can imagine and despite being sinned against in ways we cannot even comprehend. He is compassionate to us in our grief—as compassionate as a Father toward his children.
It is right and fitting to grieve our griefs and lament our losses. And we can do so without comparison, without diminishment or amplification. For every grief is grievous. Every grief is a consequence of sin. And every grief directs our hearts and transfers our gaze to that place where there will be no more grief, no more sorrow, and no more loss.