Written by Jason K. Allen |
Tuesday, April 16, 2024
We are called to be advocates, not just affirmers. We are called to be articulators, not just adherents. Compromise usually begins with silence. It ends with disavowal. And we must have an ear for the silence. Yes, each of us will have different ministry passions or commitments. But we must keep before us an ever-present awareness that these issues are being threatened by the day, in our families and in our churches, and we must be those who are willing to confidently and cheerfully speak and advocate to these great truths, especially as codified in the Danvers and Nashville Statements. Silence often is deafening.

My first encounter with the Danvers Statement and CBMW was in the late 1990s. I was a young man in college, and I was at my church, a rather large Southern Baptist church, and I was talking to a staff member in his office, and I saw on his bookshelf a big, thick, blue book that said Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. There were two names on it: Wayne Grudem and John Piper. I had heard the latter name, not the former. But I had never heard of the topics to which that book was addressing. And I asked the staff member, “What is this book about?” And he said, “Well, it’s about complementarianism,” and I responded, “What in the world is that?” And he began to unpack it just a little bit to me that summer afternoon, and I stood there really mystified by the whole reality. I grew up in a conservative home and a conservative church, and I knew that generally, men were supposed to lead in the home, and in the church, and that women were not to preach, but little more than that.
As a college student in the late 1990s, the whole topic struck me as an awkward anachronism, a doctrinal hot potato, an angular, often inconvenient truth to which we were to hold. But I sensed then that men and ministers both would speak of these things only when necessary, and then do so only uncomfortably. And when it was necessary to speak to them, it would usually be with some glib, throwaway line along the lines that, “When we got married, I told my wife I would make all the major decisions, but in 30 years of marriage, there has never been a major decision!” That was my encounter and my understanding of complementarianism in the late 1990s.
Then you move into the early 2000s, and a huge surge of awareness — thanks to CBMW primarily — took place. The TNIV pushback even had leading voices arguing for a return to the phrase and the concept of “biblical patriarchy,” a call to recover that term. That concept and the room seemed set. And it seemed as though this renewal of Reformed theology, the New Calvinism, that complementarianism was really part and parcel of that movement. Yet over the past five to ten years, it seems to me that we have had a swing of momentum: self-inflicted wounds; moral failings by leaders; crudeness and rudeness on social media and other places; militant egalitarianism that is always on the hunt for a complementarian to shoot down. All of this and more presents those of us who are complementarians with significant challenges.
Then we come to my own denomination — speaking of challenges — the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC). In recent years, the issue has become fever pitch. It really burst just a few years ago when Beth Moore tweeted in the lead-up to Mother’s Day that she would be preaching. And that set off a conflagration. Then, of course, more recently, Rick Warren announced an exegetical breakthrough, not just permitting women to preach and to lead in the church, but necessitating they do so.
Before us now is the Law Amendment that many of you have heard about, and read about — an admittedly blunt instrument, but seemingly a necessary one. And some of those opposed to it are making the argument that sounds something like this: “This is a red herring in our convention, because only a handful of churches are in danger of being afoul of the BF&M 2000. But if we adopt it, we will alienate an intolerably high number of churches that would then be outside of the BF&M 2000.” Well, which is it? We are a free church denomination, and we understand that swapping inconsistent nomenclature is part of that cooperation. We seek to find reasons to work together, not to come apart. But our response should be to educate, not to excuse, to reaffirm and rearticulate, not to shrug off, not to say things like, “On the one hand, these issues are rooted in the created order, but as long as we do not violate it too often, then it is no big deal.”
Four Observations on the Lay of the Land
In what follows, I will make four observations as I see the lay of the land, and then bring six words of challenge to card-carrying complementarians.

America Is Spiraling into Greater Darkness than Any of Us Fully Realize

I was in the United Kingdom recently for our acquisition of a Spurgeon collection at MBTS. I was in the London area in a car with a minister from there. We were at a red light, and to the left of the light was a large building with a sign. On the sign was a man — clearly a man with large muscles and a beard, exuding masculinity in every way by the muscles and the facial hair — wearing lingerie. The minister said to me, “You know, Jason, America has exported that to us.” It struck me at that moment not only was he right, but he was tragically so, because until very recently we were on the receiving end of such exports: Europe sent us their nonsense. Now we are sending ours to them. We used to be the arsenal of democracy. We used to export virtue. Now we are the arsenal of hedonism, exporting perversion.

The Greatest Threat to Complementarianism Is Not That We Fail to Persuade the Culture, but That We Fail to Persuade Our Own Families and Churches

In the lead-up to America’s interest in World War II, FDR famously observed that to be the President in these times required that the President be the Educator in Chief. And for us in the room who love our sons, daughters, spouses, congregations, and extended family, my great concern is not so much that the culture will not hear and heed, but that our own loved ones and our own churches are not hearing from us, and thus not heeding accordingly the clear teachings of Scripture.

There Is No Mushy Middle

Stop trying to find the mushy middle. If you want to see people looking for it, you do not have to attend a feminist conference these days. You just have to attend ETS. But there is, in the final analysis, no mushy middle. That phrase first hit me over a decade ago when I had just moved to Kansas City.
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The hypocrite’s trust is ultimately in himself. He’s looking the part and playing the part, but it’s not real. There’s no communion. There’s no desperation. No brokenness, no humility, no hunger and thirst. Most importantly, there’s no grateful hope pulling him towards Christ. Christians are asked to “examine themselves” at the Lord’s Supper. That examination often (and appropriately) brings up feelings of unworthiness, grief, and self-doubt. But still, there’s that hope that pulls you toward Christ.

Just before Jesus’ institution of the Lord’s Supper, he predicted that one of his disciples would betray him. All the disciples, Judas included, responded with a heart-searching question: “Is it I?” (Matt. 26:22, 25). For most of the disciples, it was a moment of self-doubt; for Judas, it was blatant hypocrisy.[1] The difference becomes a very important lesson for self-examination, especially in the context of the Lord’s Supper.
Have you ever considered why the NT emphasizes Judas’s betrayal as the context of the Lord’s Supper? The Apostle Paul writes, “The Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread…” (1 Cor. 11:23). All three Synoptic Gospels emphasize and juxtapose Jesus’ institution of the Lord’s Supper with the betrayal of Judas. Why?
Two reasons come to mind. This juxtaposition highlights Jesus’ love and faithfulness all the more.[2] But in addition, it highlights the need for self-examination, humility, and repentance when it comes to the Lord’s Supper. Judas’ betrayal reveals the possibility of hypocrisy, eating the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner (see 1 Cor. 11:27).
Consider the difference between the disciples’ question, “Is it I, Lord?”, and Judas’s question, “Is it I, Rabbi?” (see Matt. 26:22,25). There might be a suggestive difference in the titles used, but the questions are almost exactly the same. Yet they obviously came from very different places—and that difference is immensely revealing.
Consider that the disciples’ question came from a place of self-doubt, grief, and concern…for Jesus! They were struck (at least momentarily) by an acute awareness of their own fragility and weakness. Notice that none of them were pointing fingers at any of the others. They had no reason to suspect anyone else. But each doubted himself. They were “extremely distressed” (λυπούμενοι σφόδρα) at the thought of betraying him, and they didn’t trust themselves.
That’s the heart of a real Christian. Judas’ question, by contrast, came from a very different place.
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From the beginning Satan has come to God’s people suggesting that He cannot be trusted. He wants you to think that you need to take matters into your own hands if you’re going to get anything out of this life.  He wants you to believe the doctrine of God’s providence is a miserable thing instead of a blessing – that instead of casting yourself upon Him, relying upon Him and believing Him through trials that you would, instead, murmur and doubt and worry. How do we answer him?  We take up our shield of faith.

We are in a fight against principalities and powers who are bent on our spiritual ruin.  And much of the damage Satan does is by means of these darts that he hurls at the people of God.  He comes – as Joel Beeke put it – making suggestions, inserting evil thoughts in the the mind swaying the understanding with arguments and promises.
Our defense is the shield of faith.  We see that when Jesus was tempted He used the shield of faith. Satan came tempting Him, and Jesus responded with Scripture. In doing so He was using the shield of faith.  He had a choice as we do: believe Satan or believe the Bible.  Jesus believed the Bible and so he never succumbed to the temptation.
This will be our best defence.  God has given a complete set of armour, but above all else we need to take the shield of faith to quench these fiery darts.
In this series I would like to name 8 of the darts Satan uses and then comment briefly on how we can use the shield of faith to quench those darts.
First, Satan tries to get us to distrust God’s providence.   This was the first tactic he used with Jesus in the wilderness.  Jesus was hungry and Satan suggested that Jesus should take matters into His own hands and turn stones into bread.  Jesus had come to offer Himself as the bread of life, to show His people their need for spiritual food and to teach them to rely on their Heavenly Father. So Satan comes trying to cause Jesus to stumble on that very point.
Satan does the same with us.  Winslow asks, “Are we in affliction and sorrow?  He tempts us to question God’s goodness and love.  Are we prostrate on a sick and suffering couch?  He tempts us to doubt the wisdom and kindness of our Father…”
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