No Apologies pulls no punches: the transformation of society into a gynocracy has been a disaster. But the attack on manliness is not merely an attack against boyhood or manhood: “Ultimately the attack upon the home, and upon the marriage of man and woman, is an attack on the God who made man and woman” (183). If we call “very bad” (or even toxic) what God has called “very good,” we call God a liar. God has made men to lead and protect and subdue the earth (Genesis 1:28). Christians ought to honor the high calling to which God has called men. This high calling, for the glory of God, is for the good of all.

Matt Walsh’s recent film, reviewed here, documented Walsh’s worldwide quest to find an adequate answer to the age-old question, “What is a woman?” In fact, Walsh’s film aimed to expose the incoherency of the radical gender ideology sweeping the West, especially as it has impacted women and girls. In his 2022 book No Apologies: Why Civilization Depends on the Strength of Men, Anthony Esolen exposes how radical gender ideology and its evil twin, feminism, are short-sighted in their attempt to “destroy the patriarchy” by demonizing manhood as “toxic masculinity.” The book’s defense of manhood, Esolen explains, is especially for the young boys in our society. Men are strong enough to withstand attacks. Boys are being destroyed before they reach manhood.
Drawing on nature, history, literature, science, common experience, and Scripture, Esolen defends a traditionalist understanding of manhood, an understanding that recognizes the good and unique differences between men and women and the consequently different roles for men and women in the family, society, politics, and the church. Men’s unique roles in these spheres are not for self-aggrandizement, as feminists would have us believe, but for the common good—and for the good of women especially. Men performing their roles well is good for all, for “[w]e cannot corrupt one sex without corrupting the other. Male and female stand and fall together” (xi). Thus, throughout his book, as Esolen highlights men’s unique contributions to civilization that cannot be replaced by women, he does so not to demean women but to promote the good of all of society, both men and women.
Esolen repeatedly rejects the doctrinal claims of modern feminism in No Apologies. He begins in Chapter 1, “Strength,” by exposing one of the most obvious falsehoods proclaimed by modern feminism: the false claim that men and women are physically interchangeable. A woman can do anything a man can do, and sometimes better, proclaim the feminists. With colorful examples from history and his own life, Esolen demonstrates that men and women are physically unequal, and the greater strength of men enables them to perform physical tasks which women cannot. The team required to raise a barn or cut down an oak tree with an axe is necessarily male, for such tasks stretch adult men’s strength to the upper limit, thereby excluding women from direct participation. Esolen qualifies his claim–there will be some very strong women who may exceed some men in strength. Despite this, Esolen argues, men’s average strength far exceeds the average strength of women, and that is what counts when dividing labor.
Men’s unique strength is not merely external and physical but also internal and emotional. Men have a stronger ability than women to quiet their emotions when a task at hand must be accomplished. Contrary to those moderns who would encourage boys and men to express their emotions by opening the floodgate of tears, Esolen encourages boys to become men and learn when they must stiffen their upper lips and accomplish the work that must be done. To counter the claim that masculine emotional resiliency is a mere cultural relic, Esolen cites example after example from the literature of societies all over the world, past and present, Western and non-Western, which tells of men who must withstand the pull of emotion in order to accomplish their pious duty to their people and their gods. Aeneas must leave his lover Dido to fulfill his divine calling to found Rome. The Chinese master, Confucius describes the good man as he who “obeys the sacred custom, and . . . does not permit the grief to master him” (19). Native Americans told the tale of an adolescent boy who resists his grandmother’s tears in order to brave the hunt to provide for his people and courageously kill the evil murderer, Klarrheit. For Esolen, men must not allow their emotions to disable them, especially when the family and nation are depending on them to act.
In his chapter “Agency,” Esolen explores men’s drive toward action, and how that drive has historically been used for great projects that have benefited both cities and all mankind. Whereas some today object, arguing that boys’ restless energy is learned from their upbringing, Esolen correctly points out that such a claim “defies not only everything that we know about the physiology and the behavior of mammals, but also the testimony of human cultures in every climate, in every age, and at every stage of technological development” (30). Boys and men have an energy that seeks “to change the face of the earth” (30). One way or another, men will act: either to destroy or to build up. Esolen describes how men acted in coordination to build aqueducts to bring fresh water to ancient Rome. Men of modern society, given the tools of the ancient world, would have neither the mental aptitude nor the physical capability to accomplish such a task. But such tasks are what make civilization possible.
If men are those who accomplish the frankly brutal tasks that are necessary for a city or country to even exist, then men and masculinity are not dispensable. Rather, man’s inner drive prompting him to shape his world according to his will is a foundation of a flourishing society. Yet modern academics and modern politicians have promoted ideas and policies that do not encourage boys to grow into the sort of men who do great things for the sake of their people and land. Esolen tells of the work of lawyer and professor of law, Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, who coined the term “intersectionality”–an analytical tool that considers how overlapping identities can advantage or disadvantage individuals. Crenshaw’s intersectionality is for Esolen “the academic fad of our time” that has led Crenshaw to pursue policies directly detrimental to the needs of boys, such as the Equality Act (40). The Equality Act ostensibly promotes the interests of women and homosexuals, but in reality “is a dagger aimed at the heart of the healthy masculine camaraderie that builds aqueducts and lays pipelines” (40).
Modern society in America has been a disaster for boys and their potential development into men who would work to better their world. The government incentivizes family breakdown and the resulting fatherlessness. Modern education and college credentials are pushed as a cure-all, when in fact they discourage young men from pursuing the sort of work in which they would really thrive. Related to this, the trades and blue-collar work are improperly funded and discouraged as somehow less worthwhile than office work. Esolen suggests that we have structured society in this way in part because we believe the world runs on magic.
We no longer understand how things work or how things are built: like magic, special words or keystrokes are all that is necessary. Maintaining aqueducts, for example, is now done entirely through computers. What will happen when computers glitch or break? Men with know-how will have to work to repair and rebuild. Yet our society no longer produces such men. The focused, knowledgeable action of men built civilization: we have forgotten that fact to our detriment.
Men’s drive to shape the world is not merely physical. Citing psychologist Ellen Winner, Esolen explains how some men have a “‘rage to master,’ a consuming and obsessive interest in what fascinates them, often to the exclusion of more ordinary pursuits” (54).
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Written by William R. Edwards |
Thursday, August 10, 2023
Although current features may vary and create unique stresses that differ from previous generations and other cultures, the underlying narrative for all ministry remains the same. Those in every age who faithfully preach this Christ will manifest his death and resurrection as participants in what they proclaim. If this is missed, so too will be the significance of the suffering we endure: that the gospel of Jesus’ death and resurrection might be displayed against the backdrop of our own moment in redemptive history.

Many have written on the difficulties of pastoral ministry, backed by research into the demise of those who become discouraged in the work. These studies provide useful descriptions and helpful insights into the culture of ministry and how it might be changed. Much of this recent work, however, lacks deeper reflection on the biblical-theological themes that frame life in ministry and provide categories through which its difficulties must be understood. This article explores the framework for suffering in ministry through Paul’s letters, focusing on his correspondence with the Corinthians, with the aim of recovering the rich redemptive-historical narrative of ministry that is grounded in Christ’s death and resurrection.

The American church has conducted a substantial amount of research into the health of its pastors since the start of the twenty-first century. Alarming statistics have been amassed suggesting all is not well.1 The general consensus is that over the past thirty to fifty years much has changed in ministry with the result that “pastoral leadership does not seem to offer the promise of a life well lived.”2 This appears evident from the large numbers of those leaving the ministry within the first five years, with some statistics indicating a fourfold increase since the 1970s.3 The mainstream media has taken note too, with an article in the New York Times concluding, “Members of the clergy now suffer from obesity, hypertension and depression at rates higher than most Americans. In the last decade, their use of antidepressants has risen, while their life expectancy has fallen.”4 Studies indicate that many in ministry are unhappy and would leave for some other line of work if they could.5
As desperate as this sounds, action has been taken to address these troubling trends. The Lilly Foundation funded a ten-year project, “Sustaining Pastoral Excellence,” distributing grants totaling in the millions of dollars to 63 different organizations, with the aim of conducting research to better understand the negative conditions of pastoral ministry and develop strategies for positive change.6 These organizations represent the breadth of the American church, from mainline and evangelical Protestants to Roman Catholics.7 As a result of their work, a number of book-length studies have been published, which both describe common reasons for the difficult climate of pastoral ministry and prescribe potential remedies for improving its environment.8
Although operating with diverse theological commitments, the use of the social sciences ties these various studies together. Each explores the habits and practices of pastors in their various traditions with the guiding question of what defines and sustains excellence in ministry, utilizing qualitative research methods in the analysis of data to develop their descriptions and reach their conclusions.9 These studies prove helpful in many ways, noting commonalities in experience that coalesce into themes that frame life in ministry, which need to be examined and of which churches and pastors need to be aware.10 The hopeful expectation through all of this work is that “a new narrative about ministry is coming into being,” one that replaces the discouraging narrative of irrelevance, ineffectiveness, and mediocrity.11
These studies inevitably include a measure of biblical and theological reflection. The primary focus, however, is the research into the immediate causes that make pastoral ministry uniquely difficult in our current setting. So while biblical notions of excellence in ministry are considered, the data gathered on contemporary experience is at the heart of the analyses. While valuable in bringing to light particular difficulties that our present ministry culture may create, this approach potentially overshadows deeper biblical-theological descriptions that are at the core of the hardship ministers face in every age.
The aim of this article is to explore the biblical-theological framework for suffering in ministry that all pastors will endure as they faithfully proclaim Christ. In particular, Paul’s letters will be examined with special attention given to his correspondence with the Corinthians, which is rich with descriptions of his own experience, not only as an account of his life in ministry, but as a pattern for all those who follow. The premise in what follows is that the current need is not so much to develop a new narrative for pastoral ministry, but to recover the rich biblical-theological narrative of ministry found in Scripture that is grounded in Christ’s death and resurrection.12 In doing so, the hope is to see beyond the specific struggles faced today, to the larger story common to all in ministry throughout these last days, stretching from Christ’s resurrection until his return, so that those entering the work of ministry will do so with a narrative informed by the gospel they are called to proclaim.
1. Maintaining the Matters of First Importance in Ministry
In various places Paul presents what appears to be a rather grandiose view of his ministry, such as when he describes his “insight into the mystery of Christ, which was not made known to the sons of men in other generations,” a mystery that, he says, was “made known to me by revelation” (Eph 3:3–5).13 He boldly envisions his labors in relation to great OT prophets, going so far as to compare himself to Moses, leaving the clear impression that his is the greater and more glorious work (2 Cor 3:11–13). These portrayals, on first read, may seem to imply an exaggerated sense of self-importance.14 It is not, however, Paul’s self-perception that leads to this exalted view of his ministry. Instead, Paul understands that the greatness of the age ushered in by Christ’s death and resurrection exalts his work. It is not his contribution that brings distinction. This grand and decisive epoch of redemption attributes greatness to Paul’s own labors in ministry.15
Paul concludes his first letter to the Corinthians with a reminder of what he refers to as the matter “of first importance” in the gospel he preaches: “that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures” (1 Cor 15:3–4). Death and resurrection together constitute the focal point of the gospel he proclaims. Yet in reading Paul, this climactic moment of redemption is not simply the summary of Paul’s message. Jesus’ death and resurrection is of first importance as the event that inaugurates a new era of redemption, which then serves as the setting for all he endures in ministry.16
According to Paul, Christ’s death and resurrection displays God’s “plan for the fullness of time” that has now entered history (Eph 1:9–10). Therefore, he can confidently say that upon us “the end of the ages has come” (1 Cor 10:11), because of “the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel” (2 Tim 1:10–11). In every description of ministry, Paul remains fully alert to this time in which he labors. It emboldens his proclamation: “Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation” (2 Cor 6:2). Regarding Paul, Ridderbos notes that, “before everything else, he was the proclaimer of a new time, the great turning point in the history of redemption, the intrusion of a new world aeon.”17 Paul is urged on in the work, and urges others through his preaching, because Christ’s death and resurrection have brought about this age of salvation in which he now serves.18
Thus, what Paul identifies as the matter of first importance in the message he proclaims is maintained as the matter of first importance for his entire ministry. Christ’s death and resurrection is not simply the great past redemptive event he points back to as he preaches. Christ’s death and resurrection shapes his entire conception of ministry. Through it Paul proclaims the coming of an age within which his ministry takes place, a redemptive epoch of which his ministry is truly a vibrant part. Paul understood, as Vos says, that “the servant is, as it were, made part of the wonder-world of salvation itself.”19 Ministers of this gospel do not tell the story of salvation as if standing at a distance, but instead are made participants in the unfolding drama of the last days inaugurated by Christ’s death and resurrection. According to Ridderbos, “Paul’s preaching itself is taken up into the great eschatological event.”20 His ministry is also a part of God’s redemptive provision, inseparable from this age of fulfillment.
These eschatological themes, therefore, are integral to the framework of, and thus essential to endure faithfully in, the work of ministry. Narrowly viewed, eschatology may be approached as an area of study concerned with distant events and consequently largely fruitless for practical ministry. In considering the above, however, its concern is not so much with obscure matters but with the great mystery revealed in Christ’s death and resurrection. The great end has now truly begun. Jesus himself is “the beginning, the firstborn from the dead” (Col 1:18). All gospel ministry must maintain this outlook. To quote Vos again, “The joy of working in the dawn of the world to come quickens the pulse of all New Testament servants of Christ.”21 Or at least it should, and only will when these “last things” are maintained as the “first thing” in ministry. In this sense, eschatology, rightly conceived, is always protology for the pastor. The eschatos is protos for Paul. The end begun with Christ’s death and resurrection is always of first importance, and must be as we consider the work of ministry.
When this perspective is lost, so is the larger story for our ministry. Bereft of such a vision, we are left simply with the things immediately before us, our work defined primarily by our current activity rather than the age of consummation that has now come. Apart from a rich biblical eschatology, the pastor’s attention will be confined to his own labors while missing the grand narrative that gives them any significance. When this occurs, the tasks of ministry become wearying in their repetition: sermons to prepare and worship to order with the approach of each Sunday, more counsel to offer possibly with little hope of change if experience proves true, meetings with elders that focus primarily on pressing needs. David Hansen laments how in the work of the pastor, “Theology’s venerable already not-yet has become what needs to be done today and what can be left until tomorrow.”22 The immediate pressures and demands of pastoral ministry may cause us to lose sight of this final epoch of redemption in which we serve. And without this larger story, the burdens of ministry may quickly become unbearable and the source of great discouragement.
2. A Portrayal of What Is Proclaimed
However, it is not simply that Paul has the privilege of serving at the inauguration of this new age. The work of Christ that ushers in this day of salvation also serves as the pattern for his ministry. His life portrays what he proclaims. This is evident at the inception of Paul’s call, heard in Jesus’ words spoken to Ananias, where he says, “I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name” (Acts 9:16). As Ananias relays Jesus’ words, it is unclear if this particular statement was conveyed to Paul at this point. Surely all enter ministry unaware of how the message they bear will so deeply mark their own lives.
On first read, Jesus’ comment may sound vindictive, possibly a form of punishment for Paul’s previous persecution of the church. Yet Paul interprets all of his sufferings as indicative of the Savior he serves. It is not about Paul. It’s about Jesus. Paul is not suffering for his past sins, but as one compelled by Christ’s love, who died that “those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised” (2 Cor 5:14–15). Therefore, he is willing to “endure everything for the sake of the elect” (2 Tim 2:10). He can even say that he is “filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Col 1:24). Every experience in ministry is interpreted through Christ’s death and resurrection, as an integral part of the ongoing drama of redemption as it plays out in these last days, which includes his own life.
Paul vividly describes his apostolic ministry in 1 Cor 4:9: “I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men.”23 The Greek word translated as spectacle is θέατρον, also the word for theater.24 This depiction clearly captures Paul’s image, not of what he is called to do in ministry, but of what God intends his ministry to be in this world. His life is to show the very things that he tells, to portray what he proclaims.25 Each instance of suffering he endures is set in a truly cosmic story that centers on Christ’s death and resurrection, visible before heaven and earth, to both angels and men.26 And Paul views his ministry as part of a final act, “last of all,” as a concluding display that captures in his own experience the climactic elements of the entire story.27
The question is whether something equally dramatic can be said for those who serve in ministry after the age of the apostles. Is such a description also true for those who minister today? Should every pastor see himself as part of this final act whose life, similar to Paul, will portray what he proclaims? Clearly the apostles had a unique function, commissioned by Jesus himself to serve as the foundation for the church (Eph 2:20). They had a once for all role that is not to be repeated. Surely, however, if Christ’s death and resurrection forms the foundation in this way, the same will characterize all ministry built upon it.28
This is particularly seen in 2 Tim 1:8–12 where Paul offers himself as an example to Timothy, that he too is called to “share in suffering for the gospel,” and similarly describes the setting of Timothy’s ministry as his own: “the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.” Significantly here, Paul identifies himself not first as an apostle, but as a preacher, and then also as a teacher, which he says, “is why I suffer as I do.” In other words, Paul’s experience is not so much a function of his apostolic office as it is of the age to which his ministry belongs. Timothy’s labors share this setting, and so do all who serve in ministry since Christ’s appearing. Pastors today not only may, but must understand that their lives will likewise portray what they proclaim, because they too are participants in this final act initiated by Christ’s death and resurrection.
3. Ministry Will Always Manifest the Same Story
Paul develops this theme of death and resurrection as the framework for pastoral ministry most thoroughly in his second letter to the Corinthians.29 He defends the character of his ministry among them, weaving through the whole the implications of what he has established as the matter of first importance in his prior epistle. In his exposition of Christ’s resurrection in 1 Cor 15, he has already made application to ministry in verses 30–32, describing the threat he continually faces, characterizing it as death, saying, “I die every day!” Yet it is not his own personality or disposition that constantly pushes Paul into the fray despite the danger. His continued boldness has its basis in the resurrection. There is no gain, he says, “If the dead are not raised.” Paul takes up this theme at the start of 2 Corinthians, describing “our affliction” as sharing “in Christ’s sufferings” (2 Cor 1:4–5).30 He returns to it repeatedly as he describes how a ministry that faithfully represents Christ will always manifest the story of his death and resurrection.31
Paul concisely describes this pattern as it is replicated in his own experience in 2 Cor 4:7–18. Referring to the gospel that is centered in the risen, glorified Christ, he says, “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” Again, as in 1 Cor 4:9 mentioned above, Paul understands his own frailty, weakness, and suffering as the very setting in which the resurrected Christ is most clearly seen. He then provides a list that captures how this is exhibited in his own life: “afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Cor 4:9). Each is an occurrence of death, yet always coupled with resurrection.
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Our opportunities for growth are limited because we have grown comfortable. And in our comfort, we forget the Lord. Obviously we don’t forget him altogether, but we forget what he actually demands of us. Because, in truth, if we hadn’t, we would be doing it. After all, Jesus said, ‘if you love me, you will keep my commandments’ and that includes all those difficult and highly uncomfortable things. We need to take seriously the call of Jesus and make ourselves much more willing to become much less comfortable.

When we read passages of scripture like the parable of the sower, we see four types of people. And three of those four are not saved. One of them doesn’t accept the Word from the off. But the two others appear to believe but later fall away. One of those falls away as a result of suffering and hardship, which seems to be what we expect. The other falls away because they get taken up with the cares of the world and exactly how that works its way out is interpreted slightly differently depending on who you are listening to.
I think many of us instinctively recognise the first two of those. We know there are those who never believed and those who face hardships and fall away. So far, no surprises really. The third group is often interpreted – often thanks to the more old fashioned ‘cares of the world’ translation – as being those who are consumed with worldly troubles and anxieties that drag them away. I’m not so convinced this is necessarily intended to convey cares as anxieties and troubles necessarily, so much as the things of the world. But because of that interpretation, those who fall away are thought to be those experiencing trouble of one kind or another.
It is this, I think, that makes Deuteronomy 8 so jarring to us when we read it. Here is what vv6-18 say:
6 So keep the commands of the Lord your God by walking in his ways and fearing him. 7 For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with streams, springs, and deep water sources, flowing in both valleys and hills; 8 a land of wheat, barley, vines, figs, and pomegranates; a land of olive oil and honey; 9 a land where you will eat food without shortage, where you will lack nothing; a land whose rocks are iron and from whose hills you will mine copper. 10 When you eat and are full, you will bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.
11 “Be careful that you don’t forget the Lord your God by failing to keep his commands, ordinances, and statutes that I am giving you today. 12 When you eat and are full, and build beautiful houses to live in, 13 and your herds and flocks grow large, and your silver and gold multiply, and everything else you have increases, 14 be careful that your heart doesn’t become proud and you forget the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the place of slavery. 15 He led you through the great and terrible wilderness with its poisonous snakes and scorpions, a thirsty land where there was no water. He brought water out of the flint rock for you. 16 He fed you in the wilderness with manna, which your ancestors had not known, in order to humble and test you, so that in the end he might cause you to prosper. 17 You may say to yourself, ‘My power and my own ability have gained this wealth for me,’ 18 but remember that the Lord your God gives you the power to gain wealth, in order to confirm his covenant he swore to your ancestors, as it is today.
Though the Israelites were prone to grumbling when things were not going so well, the greater danger for them was when the Lord had provided all of their needs and more besides. They were far more likely to become complacent and care far less about the Lord when everything was going well. In other words, one of the greatest dangers for God’s people was their own comfort.
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