Written by Christopher F. Rufo |
Tuesday, October 3, 2023
A recent CIA recruitment video valorized the Cluster B traits of narcissistic identity obsession, self-righteousness, and craving for affirmation. “I am a woman of color. I am a mom. I am a cisgender millennial who has been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder,” intones the featured CIA analyst as the camera pans over her diversity awards. “I used to struggle with impostor syndrome, but at 36, I refuse to internalize misguided, patriarchal ideas of what a woman can or should be.”In a Cluster B society, psychological disorders are job qualifications rather than problems to be solved; ideology replaces competence as a marker of distinction.

There is a creeping sense that our society has turned upside-down. Healthy debate is replaced by activist hysterics. Speech is declared violence; violence is excused as speech. Masculinity is condemned as “toxic,” while men in dresses are celebrated in the public square. It feels as if we are in the midst of a society-wide mental breakdown.
One might be tempted to laugh at these manifestations as the outbursts of small but vocal minority, but the compromised health of our body politic is no trivial concern. A strange new pattern of psychological dysfunction has infiltrated all our institutions, from humdrum bureaucracies to the highest offices. Wherever we turn, that creeping feeling sets in: our society is sick; our institutions are out of balance; our public life has been consumed by a cluster of disorders that appeal to our worst instincts and derange our most vital social functions.
What happened? Why have old standards suddenly vanished in favor of narcissism, psychodrama, and moral theatrics—all in the name of “care”?
If we have any hope for recovering our sanity, we must first understand what we are dealing with.
Every historical period develops unique psychological characteristics that shape public life. After World War I, we had the “Lost Generation,” shell-shocked and disillusioned. In the mid-twentieth century, we entered the “Age of Anxiety,” characterized by a sense of existential dread in the face of the atomic bomb. And 50 years ago, we saw the rise of “the culture of narcissism,” which social critic Christopher Lasch described as a society obsessed with ego, desire, and self-image.
Today, we are witnessing the emergence of something new: the “Cluster B society.” Like the culture of narcissism, our digital age has distinct psychological traits, heavily influenced by the rise of personal pathologies and the power of social media. For this generation, the cameras are always on. The audience is always watching. And the old narcissism has transformed into frenzy, moral theatrics, emotional volatility, self-indulgence, and outbursts of violence.
Psychologists have captured the spirit of our modern culture in four specific psychopathologies that, together, make up the Cluster B personality disorders: the narcissist, the borderline, the histrionic, and the antisocial. (They also identify Cluster A and Cluster C groupings of personality disorders.)
Narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by a sense of entitlement, obsession with one’s own importance, and deep feelings of resentment, often expressed through moral self-righteousness. Borderline personality disorder is marked by an unstable sense of identity, black-and-white thinking, feelings of emptiness, and recurring self-harm and suicide attempts. Histrionic personality disorder exhibits excessive emotionality, sexual provocation, and attention-seeking, often to serve a pathological need for sympathy. Antisocial personality disorder is typified by impulsivity, manipulation, disregard for others, and a penchant for violence and aggression that violates social norms.
This cluster of psychopathologies is no longer an individual matter, however, to be dealt with in the privacy of the analyst’s office. On the contrary, Cluster B psychological traits have begun to shape the patterns and structures of our culture. The scenes of American public life increasingly resemble a Cluster B psychodrama: victimhood replaces accomplishment as the standard of merit; accusation replaces disagreement as the means of settling disputes; false compassion becomes the primary method of manipulating citizens into compliance; and the whole scheme is enforced with the threat of violence: obey, or suffer the consequences.
For most of American history, significant personality disorders were treated as problems and their sufferers largely relegated to the fringes of society. But in the emerging Cluster B society, narcissistic, borderline, histrionic, and antisocial psychological traits can now be found in those elevated to positions of power and celebrated by our institutions. The new status quo is an emerging leadership class that rules through emotional blackmail and uses the cover of various “victim” groups to impose its agenda on society. If citizens dissent, they are branded hateful bigots, accused of lacking empathy, and sometimes banished from public life. 
While these strategies are contemptible, they are also extraordinarily effective in controlling what we think, what we say, and how we act. And they have slowly transformed our institutions into what psychologist Andrzej Łobaczewski calls a “pathocracy,” or rule by psychological dysfunction. This has become our new social order. Once a thoughtful observer internalizes this phenomenon, he will start to see it everywhere: the Cluster B traits have been formalized and entrenched in our human resource departments, government policies, cultural institutions, and civil rights laws.
Read More
Related Posts:

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.
Read More
Related Posts:

Written by Ben C. Dunson |
Wednesday, March 27, 2024
Therapeutic-antinomian preaching follows a predictable pattern. Take any imperative of Scripture, tell the congregation how they are unable to obey that imperative, and then urge them to trust that Christ has obeyed it for them. Then end the sermon. Every sermon will be the same, no matter the text.

This week my wife wrote a very helpful review of, and interaction with, Abigail Shrier’s new book Bad Therapy: Why the Kids Aren’t Growing Up. Shrier’s book is an expose of the many ways in which modern therapy, under the guise of empathetic caring, has made children into psychological and emotional wrecks.
As my wife put it:
Shrier outlines the problem: therapy and therapeutic concepts (“mental health”) are ubiquitous today and parents are quick to find therapeutic solutions for everything, including medicating kids with psychotropic drugs and stimulants to treat normal childhood behaviors. Any pain or disappointment is equated with trauma and, in our risk-averse society, must be avoided at all costs, or treated as a problem to be solved with therapy and drugs.
Shrier doesn’t get into the implications of her research for the church, though my wife also rightly pointed out that “[t]his ideology is even common among Christian parents, who readily rely on therapy to address perceived behavioral issues (aka sin) or on medication for normal childhood characteristics like being wiggly or distracted.”
Therapeutic concepts are so prevalent in our society that it is often hard to understand how they impact our reasoning in different areas of life. In fact, one could say that therapeutic thinking serves as one of the chief supports of a heresy that plagues the church today, as it has in every age, the heresy of antinomianism, that is, being against (anti) God’s law (nomos) as the necessary rule of life for the Christian.
Antinomianism rarely takes the form of an overt and explicit rejection of God’s moral law. Normally it is far more subtle. A particularly subtle (and thus far more dangerous) form today goes like this: No one, not even a born-again Christian, is capable of keeping God’s law perfectly. The law simply shows us our sin, and thus our need for the grace of forgiveness in Christ. Everything in the two previous sentences is true except for the word “simply.” It is with this word that antinomianism slithers in unnoticed.
It is not the case that God’s moral law simply shows regenerate believers their sin. The law does indeed do that (Rom 3:19–20; 7:7), but the law is also the necessary guide and rule for the life of the Christian. Obedience to God’s law, by the working of the Holy Spirit (Rom 8:7–9), will be worked by God in the life of every genuine Christian. No one can be justified (“declared in the right with God”) on the basis of obedience to the law (Rom 3:20; Gal 2:15–16; Phil 3:8–9), but all believers are brought into submission to God’s law, which is simply submission to God himself, as a necessary outworking of God’s grace in their lives (1 Cor 9:21; Titus 2:11–14; James 1:25; 2:8).
The therapeutic mindset (a warmed-over Freudianism) tells us that our chief problems in life come from outside of ourselves, that we are passive victims of any number of traumas we have experienced. We likely did not even recognize them as traumas at the time. What is more, therapy teaches us—the helpless victims we are—to see all difficulties in life, from the smallest to the greatest, as insurmountable ordeals inflicted upon us. We’re told that the normal stresses of work, school, family, finances, and more, have wounded us beyond our ability to cope. Thus, we need therapy (or drugs), which is quite convenient for those whose livelihood depends on their patients remaining unwell. Instead of being taught to cast our cares on the Lord (1 Pet 5:6–7) and confront and overcome those things that create anxiety (Matt 6:25–34; Phil 4:4–7) Christians are left defenseless. Modern therapeutic methods encourage, rather than help overcome, extreme mental, emotional, and spiritual fragility.
Read More

Related Posts: