“Only remember me,” Joseph requested, “when it is well with you, and please do me the kindness to mention me to Pharaoh, and so get me out of this house” (Genesis 40:14). Though he sat in prison, Joseph had just interpreted the cupbearer’s dream favorably: he would be restored to his former height in three days. “Only remember me to Pharaoh,” Joseph asked.

In three days, the cupbearer was taken from the cell as foretold. It will only be a matter of time now, Joseph thought. Three more days passed. Five days. A week. “Two whole years” (Genesis 41:1). Nothing. Once ascended to his former place, “the chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph, but forgot him” (Genesis 40:23).

When you think of the ascended Christ, do you imagine someone like this cupbearer? Has he who once descended into our pit and suffered for our sins — only to rise to a better life three days later — forgotten us?

Perhaps you expect his attention when he returns, but until then, he basks in the angel’s praises, grips the scepter firmly in hand, and with our prison far behind him, you suspect that you remain little upon his heart.

Sympathy of the Prince

William Gurnall (1616–1679) gives a moving illustration in reply:

Suppose a king’s son should get out of a besieged city, where he had left his wife and children, whom he loves as his own soul, and these all ready to die by sword or famine; if supply come not the sooner, could this prince, when arrived at his father’s house, please himself with the delights of the court, and forget the distress of his family? (The Christian in Complete Armor, 31)

Right now, Jesus thinks of me, he thinks of you, as this prince who has left his bride and children behind. He has not forgotten us, coronated as he is in glory, just as any good man could not for a moment forget his family shackled in sorrows in an evil land. If we who are sinful are moved at the distress of our loved ones, how could Christ, whose name is love, disregard the sufferings of his family still on earth?

If you’re tempted to feel forgotten, be reminded that right now Christ loves his bride with a love surpassing knowledge (Ephesians 3:19). His heart toward us from heaven deserves more thought than many of us give it. Consider first how un-cupbearer-like our ascended Christ is, and then why Christ does “please himself with the delights of the court” while still not forgetting “the distress of his family” — and why that is such good news for us.

He Has Not Forgotten

Jesus, our King, has departed into glory, leaving us here on earth. And unlike the prince in Gurnall’s illustration, Jesus prays we remain temporarily apart, “I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one” (John 17:15). But in order that we might not draw false conclusions, on the eve of his death Jesus also says in several ways, “I will not forget you.”

He assures them, “If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also” (John 14:3). He promises, “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. . . . Because I live, you also will live” (John 14:18–19).

When sorrow fills their hearts at this news, he ensures that he means their good: “I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you” (John 16:7). He guarantees, “You have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (John 16:22).

On the darkest night in history, Christ carries his people upon his heart in prayer to his Father: “Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world” (John 17:24). And this he prays for you and me as well: “I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word” (John 17:20).

“Surely Jesus will not forget his bride, the reward of his suffering and anguish.”

These words do not pour forth from a heavenly cupbearer. We can be certain that he who said, “as the Father has loved me, so have I loved you” (John 15:9), and whose life was summarized in those expiring hours with the words, “having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (John 13:1) — surely he will not forget his bride, the reward of his suffering and anguish. Nor in a real sense will he ever truly leave her (Matthew 28:20).

He Still Enjoys the Court

Suffice it to say that Jesus Christ will not, cannot, forget his beloved, even if his beloved is prone to forget that she is not forgotten. This is one problem.

But there is another: we can assume that Christ thinks only of us. The spirit of our age would have us picture a needy, codependent, lovesick Messiah. He is in heaven, not really paying attention to the glory there, doodling hearts on the margins of the cosmos with our name in the middle.

Such a spirit omits that Jesus also told his disciples, “You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I will come to you.’ If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I” (John 14:28). We might be conditioned to believe that his world revolves around us, that he must be perpetually pained in heaven, unable to fully rejoice with his Father or receive praises or enjoy the delights of the court because we are not yet there.

When He Wrote to Her

Consider the love letter he sends from heaven to his hurting, left behind bride in Smyrna. She is a faithful local church (no censure or call to repentance appears in this letter). How does the compassionate Christ speak to his suffering church? To the angel of the church of Smyrna, he tells John, write,

The words of the first and the last, who died and came to life.

I know your tribulation and your poverty (but you are rich) and the slander of those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan. Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Behold, the devil is about to throw some of you into prison, that you may be tested, and for ten days you will have tribulation. Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. The one who conquers will not be hurt by the second death. (Revelation 2:8–11)

What comfort does he offer? He says that he is the first and the last, the one who died and came back to life. He says he knows their tribulation and their poverty (though they are rich). He tells them that he hears the slander of their enemies who have become a “synagogue of Satan.”

But notice too how he instructs them in their persecution: “Do not fear what you are about to suffer” — Satan’s throwing them into prison will test them, and end up serving greater purposes. Jesus tells them to be faithful unto death, and that he will be waiting on the other side with a crown of life. He tells them that they must conquer so as not to be hurt by the second death, the lake of fire (Revelation 20:14).

He gives to this church what appears to be a masculine comfort, that is, comfort that retains an exhortative tone given its vision of higher priorities (1 Thessalonians 2:11–12) — namely, the church’s eternal well-being.

Christ’s words here are not those of a nursing mother with her child (1 Thessalonians 2:7), though equally full of love. Jesus comforts this church, but not by telling her he cannot enjoy heaven and his Father while she remains oppressed and apart. He does not refuse to sit on the throne before she is seated safely in glory.

Moved, but Not Injured

Jesus cares deeply about us, but not too much — is that what I am trying to say? No. He cares more deeply about his bride than we know, and he is still our God who inhabits a heaven that is bigger than us. He loves us beyond knowledge, and he does not have absolute need of us. Part of the beauty of his love is how freely given, or unrequired, it is.

As our great high priest, Christ invites us to approach the throne of grace because he is able to sympathize with us (Hebrews 4:14–16). But he is not consumed by pity, nor does he feel with us so as to sustain injury. He owns our persecutions as the head of the body — “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me” (Acts 9:4) — yet not in such a way as to be freshly pierced.

Thomas Goodwin (1600–1680) describes it this way in The Heart of Christ:

These affections of pity and sympathy so stirred up by himself, though they. . . affect his bodily heart as they did here, yet they do not afflict and perturb him in the least, nor become a burden in a load unto his Spirit, so as to make him sorrowful or heavy, as in this life here his pity unto Lazarus made him, and as his distresses at last, that made him sorrowful unto death. (47)

“Jesus is provoked to help us; he draws near, moved by our hurt, while not being hurt himself.”

Jesus Christ, once a man of sorrows, has risen and ascended; he is not in heaven sunken that his bride is not yet there. Goodwin claims that the glorified Christ has “no tang of disquietment” or “afflicting affections,” though his “perfection does not destroy his affections.” He is provoked to help us; he draws near, moved in measure by our hurt, while not being hurt himself.

He Sees the Day

This is good news for us, for Christ loves his people without unbraiding all reality by loving them above his Father and his glory. The Son invites us into his eternal, Trinitarian love, without making us the primary focus of that eternal love. He loves us without making us God.

Our final joy and eternal well-being are certain. Jesus has no guesswork as to our fate. While far from unfeeling, he is not tossed by the waves, as we are this side of heaven.

Jesus is the Shepherd of the sheep, the Groom of his bride, guiding us home through a world of distress to springs of living water, promising to soon wipe away every tear from our eyes (Revelation 7:17; 21:4). While he tarries, he can and does enjoy “the delights of the court,” while not forgetting “the distress of his family.”

Audio Transcript

Welcome back to the podcast. This week we’re talking about pastoral ministry. Can single men pastor — or must pastors be married?? That’s today. And then, how much should pastors make? That’s up next.

So, Pastor John, we know that many professing Christians around the world claim that church leaders must be single men who have taken a vow of clerical celibacy. We of course disagree with that. For Protestants like us, pastors are typically married men. So we face a question in the opposite direction — and it’s a question recently asked by two different listeners. First, Josiah. “Pastor John, thank you for sharing your insight with us week after week on this podcast. Do you believe a first requirement for eldership is that he have a wife and kids?” Then Josiah cites 1 Timothy 3:2–4 and Titus 1:6. And Blake, another listener, likewise asks if a single, non-married man is eligible to be a church elder. What would you say to Josiah and Blake?

Whether a single man is permitted biblically to be an elder or pastor boils down to whether two passages — one in 1 Timothy 3, the other in Titus 1 — mandate that elders must be married. If they do, that settles the matter: we obey. If they don’t, then we have to ask whether there are other passages or other pointers or principles that would suggest it’s permitted or wise or unwise to have pastors who are not married.

Here are those two most immediately relevant texts:

He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God’s church? (1 Timothy 3:4–5)

This is why I left you in Crete, so that you might put what remained in order, and appoint elders in every town as I directed you — if anyone is above reproach, the husband of one wife . . . (Titus 1:5–6)

Assuming Marriage

A couple of observations are, I think, especially relevant. First, Paul does not say here or anywhere else that elders must be married. He could have said that very clearly. It would’ve been easy in Greek to say that. (It would’ve been easy, of course, in English to say that.)

“Paul does not say here or anywhere else that elders must be married. He could have said that very clearly.”

For example, Titus 1:7 says, “An overseer, as God’s steward, must be above reproach” (see also 1 Timothy 3:2). And the Greek dei — “must,” “has to be,” “is necessary” — makes it an explicit necessity. No questions. Paul could have said, “an overseer must be married,” but he didn’t say that. What he said was, first, the elder “must manage his household well.” And second, if he’s a husband of one wife, he can be considered. Neither of those statements amounts to an explicit mandate for marriage.

So, it appears that marriage was assumed, but that it was not explicitly commanded. And I expect that it was assumed because ongoing, lifelong singleness in cultures was so rare that it scarcely needed addressing. That’s the first observation.

Another observation is the assumption that the elder would not only normally be married, but that he would normally have children. Both passages assume that the elders have wives and have children. So, if we’re going to infer that marriage is required for the pastorate, on the same grounds, it seems to me, we would need to infer that a pastor have children, not just a wife.

So, if I’m right that in these texts there is a strong assumption that a man will be married with a family if he’s a pastor, and yet there’s no explicit command that he be married or have children, then my question becomes this: What other considerations in the New Testament might help us decide whether it’s wise to have a pastor who is not married — or to expect that he would be or require that he would be?

Exemplars of Singleness

Now, the first consideration we might look at is that neither Jesus nor Paul was married and yet fulfilled roles of leadership and teaching and care for the churches very much like a pastor. Nothing is ever said about Jesus being married or single. The topic of his own marriage never comes up. There is no wife in the story of the Gospels, and it would be a total fantasy — some people have spun out that fantasy — to claim that he was married.

Paul, on the other hand, tells us more than once that he was not married. For example, in 1 Corinthians 9:5, “Do we” — meaning Barnabas and he — “not have the right to take along a believing wife, as do the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas?” In other words, they certainly do have the right, and yet there are practical reasons why marriage for Paul would have been unwise. He didn’t use his right. The call on his life was just constant movement — and a lot of it in jail, enduring almost constant suffering. Marriage would probably have been constantly dangerous and miserable for a wife.

Whatever the reason, he wasn’t, and he makes it explicit in 1 Corinthians 7:7–8: “I wish that all were as I myself am. But each has his own gift from God, one of one kind and one of another. To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is good for them to remain single, as I am.” It seems to me that the singleness of Jesus and the singleness of Paul imply that an unmarried man can have an exceptionally fruitful ministry and be an effective pastor.

Then add to this the amazing praise that Paul sings to the benefits of singleness. And here’s what he says (this is 1 Corinthians 7:32–35):

I want you to be free from anxieties. The unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to please the Lord. But the married man is anxious about worldly things, how to please his wife, and his interests are divided. And the unmarried or betrothed woman is anxious about things of the Lord, how to be holy in body and spirit. But the married woman is anxious about worldly things, how to please her husband. I say this for your own benefit, not to lay any restraint upon you, but to promote good order and to secure your undivided devotion to the Lord.

Single and Married Pastors

We’re tempted to say, then, “Well, Paul, why don’t you just make singleness a requirement for the pastorate?” I mean, the church went off the rails at one point and did that.

“Sexual desire is intended ordinarily to be satisfied in marriage. And that goes for pastors too.”

And Paul would say, I think, in response to that question, first, that sexual desire is intended ordinarily to be satisfied in marriage. And that goes for pastors too. First Corinthians 7:1–5 are amazing verses. Second, while there are advantages to singleness in the pastorate, there are great advantages also to marriage in the pastorate, not only in the matter of sex, but also in the matter of firsthand knowledge about marriage and parenting and the stresses and joys of ordinary family life. All of that is a great benefit for pastors. And having a wife at your side — oh my goodness — is a great ministerial blessing, I testify. When Paul is singing the praises of singleness, he’s not singing them as though there were no corresponding praises for marriage, especially in the pastorate.

My conclusion is that the reason Paul assumed marriage for the pastoral role in 1 Timothy and Titus was that it was culturally normal and it was a great advantage in knowing how to manage a household and empathize with married people in the church. And that was the norm: most people were married. But also I conclude that marriage is not an absolute requirement for the eldership or pastorate, and that, along the lines of 1 Corinthians 7, there are advantages of being single in that role. So, if I were on a search committee for the next pastor of our church, I would assume we’re looking for a married man who has a family. But I would not rule out a gifted single man whose life and ministry had shown and borne real fruit.

Luther Discovers the Book
When Martin Luther discovered the gospel in the Scriptures, everything changed for him and the future of the church. In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper begins a 3-part series exploring Luther’s relationship with the Bible.