A charge to a prison chaplain

(This charge was given to the Rev. Ken R. Honken on December 6, 2019 on the occasion of his installation as an evangelist by the OPC's Presbytery of the Midwest to serve as the world's best federal ladies' prison chaplain. An audio version can be found here.)

So Ken.

I was meditating on our Form of Government (as one does) and was struck by the peculiar fact that when an evangelist is to be ordained and/or installed, no provision is made for a charge to the congregation. This is in contrast to the installation of a pastor, when, as my father-in-law has just demonstrated to all here gathered, a charge to the congregation is entirely necessary. Why the difference?

The answer is evident upon a moment’s reflection: in a very real sense, an evangelist does not serve a particular congregation, and certainly not a congregation which must be charged to be faithful to its duties to him. But on the other hand, the Apostle Paul tells us the evangelist does have a very definite congregation whom he serves: the world.

From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:16-21) 

My parents were both Foreign Service officers, a career field which our current president’s travails have recently brought to the public’s attention. Having grown up in and around diplomatic missions, I’ve thought a great deal about how the Apostle describes the minister of Word and sacrament in this passage. An ambassador is a stranger in a strange land, representing the cause and interests of his government and uniquely empowered to speak on its behalf. In a very real sense, when an ambassador speaks, it is as though his entire government were speaking through him.

While every minister of Word and sacrament serves this ambassadorial function, it seems to me that none does so nearly so much as does the evangelist. When the pastor preaches to his congregation on the Lord’s Day, he speaks of the Kingdom of grace and glory to citizens of that Kingdom who have fled the kingdom of Satan that very day to hear their pastor’s ambassadorial proclamation from their King. The pastor is an ambassador, yes, but he speaks to fellow countrymen who share his expatriate status and long for the day when they will finally arrive at their homeland, the city which has foundations.

Not so the evangelist. He is alone amongst indifferent citizens of the kingdom of the Evil One, bringing them a strange message about a foreign King who demands their allegiance for himself. As an ambassador, the evangelist not only speaks the very words of his King to these people; in his life, he imitates the life of the King whom he serves. For did not that King leave his home, setting aside his royal rights, prerogatives and regalia to live as an alien in a foreign and unfriendly land? By imitating his King, by going to a hostile place to proclaim his King’s message to a hostile people, the evangelist recapitulates, he retraces the steps of his Lord’s own ministry.

And what is his King’s message? As I just mentioned, it is a demand that his hearers deny their worldly master and become our King’s servants instead. However, and mysteriously, this demand is framed as an appeal: “Be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

So Ken. Whether in the military or in the federal prisons, you serve two masters: our Lord Jesus and the ruler of this present age, the government of these United States. We all have had to, in our own way, negotiate these dual loyalties, striving to not unnecessarily offend the civil magistrate while simultaneously performing intact all our duties to the Lord of heaven and earth. However, this universal attempt to faithfully serve both Caesar and our Lord is not what I want to talk to you about tonight.

The chaplain has many duties, and I readily concede and affirm that all of them are necessary to the proper discharge of his job. Chief amongst these are various and sundry administrative chores: services must be provided; reports of said services must be prepared; summaries of reports must be compiled and collated and cross-referenced. And it is, interestingly enough, these types of activities which seem to carry the most weight when promotions and advancement are considered. One understands, then, the tendency to give their efficacious discharge the highest priority when one is arranging one’s schedule.

I am the proud son of two federal bureaucrats, so let me be the first to urge you to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. But more importantly, I am with you a fellow ambassador for Christ, and so I charge you to faithfully steward the message of reconciliation. In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself! He does not count their trespasses against them!

Therefore, I charge you to be ever mindful that God is, in all your work, at all times and in all places, making his appeal through you. In all you do, be faithful and implore all those in your path, on behalf of Christ, to be reconciled to God.

I’ve said the evangelist has no congregation, but as a prison chaplain you have a defined group of women whom you are to serve. They have taken no vows and owe you nothing, but you owe them everything. They are not your congregation, but you are, nonetheless, not to regard them according to the flesh. Instead, they are persons who may or who have already become new creations in Christ. Tell them the new has come. Tell them that we all may become the righteousness of God in Christ.

Implore them, as you must implore the world: be reconciled to God.

Amen.

I am not afraid of God

Comments from Mrs. Curmudgeon about my character and from a colleague about a post I wrote on suicidal ideation have conspired to remind me of 1 John 4:18: "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." The Gospel tells me that God loves me in Christ. I believe that. Therefore I am not afraid of God.

"For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39) Nothing. Not even depression, not even suicide.

So how does Christ's love keep me from killing myself? "For the love of Christ compels us, because we judge thus: that if One died for all, then all died; and He died for all, that those who live should live no longer for themselves, but for Him who died for them and rose again." (2 Corinthians 5:14-15) I live for Christ, not for myself. I know he wants me to live to serve others, and not myself. I know he wants me to live. So I live.

I am not afraid of God. That's the point of Christ's work on the Cross: God's unaccountable, prodigal love for his people. That's why angels keep saying, "Fear not."

So that You, by His Poverty

My essay "So that You, by His Poverty" appears on the Stewardship page in this month's New Horizons in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church. (Note: you'll have to download the entire issue in order to read my essay. But it's free, and you might find some other items of interest.)

The restoration & the Church

What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For we are the temple of the living God; as God said,
“I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them,
and I will be their God,
and they shall be my people.
Therefore go out from their midst,
and be separate from them, says the Lord,
and touch no unclean thing;
then I will welcome you,
and I will be a father to you,
and you shall be sons and daughters to me,
says the Lord Almighty.”

In 2 Corinthians 6:16-18, Paul paraphrases and combines Ezekiel 37:27 (via Leviticus 26:11-12), Isaiah 52:11, Ezekiel 20:34, and 2 Samuel 7:14 to demonstrate that the New Testament Church is the temple of the living God. With the exception of 2 Samuel 7, these verses all come from passages prophesying the return of the exiles from Assyria and Babylon to Judah. (Even Leviticus 26 can be read in this way.) Thus, I was surprised when none of the commentaries I consulted made much of this fact. Along with his use of Hosea in Romans 9, this passage demonstrates the way in which Paul saw the Restoration promises fulfilled: first in the days of Ezra and Nehemiah, but with much greater effect in the work of Christ and the joining of Jew and Gentile in the Church.

2 points:
1) As Christians, we would do well to think through the implications of the Church as the Restoration of Israel from exile.
2) Given how the Restoration prophecies of Jeremiah 31 are developed in Hebrews, here is another good reason to believe Paul is in fact the author of that epistle as well.

Union & double imputation

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:21)

I believe the writings of John Murray enabled me to grasp firmly the doctrine of double imputation: Christ's righteousness is accounted to us, and our sin is accounted to Christ. In the last few years, James Jordan has on any number of occasions asserted that this doctrine is not in the Westminster Standards and not required by Scripture. Whether it was originally intended to be in the Westminster Standards is open to debate, but certainly the animus imponentis of American Presbyterianism is to find it there, as is demonstrated at least as far back as A.A. Hodges' commentary on the Confession of Faith. Moreover, even if one doesn't quite find the imputation of Christ's righteousness in 2 Corinthians 5:21, it's certainly there in Romans 4:3-5. Hence, I do not understand how anyone can reject this doctrine.

At the same time, some who have made their bones in opposing the Federal Vision (in which camp is James Jordan) have also wanted to distance themselves from Calvin's emphasis on union with Christ as the font of all the benefits of redemption. Exhibit A: J.V. Fesko in the Spring 2010 issue of The Westminster Theological Journal. This, too, mystifies me, as Paul clearly tells us we are righteous not merely because of an external, forensic declaration, but because we have been united to Christ ("in him").

Recent debates in Reformed circles have caused some to lose sight of our historic points of consensus, at least as evidenced by 2 Corinthians 5:21.

Not so helpful

For if we are beside ourselves, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you.

Ralph Martin (Word Biblical Commentary, p. 126) begins his comments on 2 Corinthians 5:13 by writing "The total understanding of this passage may be beyond our grasp." One appreciates the honesty, but I was hoping for a bit more.

Harold Camping is a clever man

Harold Camping has been deservedly subject to ridicule because May 21, much like May 20 and May 22, was notably free from apocalypse. Sometimes, the best way to deal with heretics isn't to argue with them from Scripture, but instead to giggle at their arguments supposedly taken from Scripture. Nonetheless, I give the man credit for how he explained away this present age's stubborn refusal to come to an end: the judgment was "spiritual."

This explanation has some plausibility because most people, including most Christians, tend to think "spiritual" = "having nothing to do with real life." Hence, Christians can be spiritual (i.e., religiously-minded) without having to give God ten percent of their money or one-seventh of their time because time and money are real, and God is spiritual. Contrast that common gnostic attitude, however you see it manifested, with the Apostle Paul's insistence in 1 Corinthians 15 and 2 Corinthians 5 that the spiritual/resurrection body is very much corporeal.

Camping, obviously, is trying to dodge accountability. Still, it's a clever, even an insightful, dodge.

Slave, not Lord

2Cor. 4:5 Οὐ γὰρ ἑαυτοὺς κηρύσσομεν ἀλλὰ Ἰησοῦν Χριστὸν κύριον, ἑαυτοὺς δὲ δούλους ὑμῶν διὰ Ἰησοῦν.
2Cor. 4:5 For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.

In the Word Biblical Commentary, Ralph Martin points out the neat contrast between kurios (lord) and doulos (slave): Paul proclaims himself not as kurios but doulos.

Reprobation & assurance of salvation

And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled only to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.

2 Corinthians 4:3-4 strike me as a good proof text for the doctrine of reprobation. Reprobation is the necessary reverse of election: if God has chosen some for everlasting life in Christ, he has not chosen others. These have been blinded and cannot understand the Gospel, no matter how clearly it is proclaimed to them.

At the same time, those who question their own salvation ought to take some comfort from these verses. Many have spiritually shipwrecked themselves on the rocky fact that only God knows his secret counsels, and thus only God knows who he has elected. Nonetheless, anyone can know whether he has understood the Gospel of the glory of Christ. If he has, he is not one of the perishing unbelievers; his sight is not veiled because he is not reprobate but elect.

On ambassadorial garb

For some time, an argument for liturgical garb, derived from 2 Corinthians 5:20, has been rattling around in my head. Back in the day, before John F. Kennedy ruined everything with his hatlessness and business suit, ambassadors used to dress quite spiffily, with sashes and cummerbunds and all variety of what-not to signify the nation which they represented. And that's to say nothing of the ancient world, when ceremonial national dress was simply the work uniform. Thankfully, there are some indications we are, as a culture, beginning to recover from the long national nightmare which began in the 1960s, and so one has hope for a renewal of sartorial sensibility as well.

Some confessional presbyterians have argued for the clerical robe during the worship service as a badge and sign of the office of Word and sacrament. I don't disagree with that, but, by itself, said argument only gets you to the notion of clerical garb, not what that garb should be. However, if the pastor is in fact an ambassador for Christ, he is a citizen and representative of Christ's heavenly kingdom. In terms of diplomatic protocol, then, he should on formal occasions (and what occasion is more formal than the called services of the Church?) wear the ceremonial garb of his native land, the country which has foundations (Hebrews 11:10, 13-16). In that country, the King and his people wear robes of fine linen, white and pure (Revelation 19:7-8, 13-14).

I credit ministers who wear a black robe with trying; that's better than the liturgical indifference which too many of my colleagues bear as a strange badge of pride. But those who wear an academic gown in the pulpit seem to me to have missed the point entirely: we represent the heavenly Kingdom, not the academy. (And the academy gets far too many shout-outs from the seminary-educated as it is without having their clothing add to the clamor, if one were to ask me.)

No, let us wear a white robe in the pulpit, of Genevan or some other appropriate cut. We ought wear white robes because we are ambassadors for Christ, pleading with all men to be reconciled to God.

A peculiar embassy

Although Ma and Pa Curmudgeon were both U.S. Foreign Service officers, talk of embassies takes me not back to my childhood and the gruntwork of American diplomatic relations, but to my own calling as a pastor. After all, we are ambassadors of Christ, pleading with all men to be reconciled to God (2 Corinthians 5:20).

And therein lies the strangeness of our embassy. As any child of a Foreign Service officer could tell you, an embassy is an outpost of the home nation on foreign soil; in theory, it is a extension of the nation itself. However, its sovereignty extends only as far as its walls, outside of which is the foreign land. Any ambassador who wandered the streets of his host nation recruiting its citizens to come over the wall and become citizens of our country wouldn't hold his post for very long.

But that is exactly what we do. In Gilead, Marilynne Robinson's narrator speaks of the privilege we ministers have of blessing people, and how odd it is that the literature on pastoral work speaks so little of this. That is true, and it is odd. We are ambassadors from the heavenly Kingdom, and we do not merely speak for our King, we have the special duty of bringing them out of this world and into the next through the imposition of our hands and the pouring of water. It is a rare and peculiar embassy, and we would do well to spend more time meditating upon and being astounded by this privilege.