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Here's Acts 11:19-21:

Now those who were scattered because of the persecution that arose over Stephen traveled as far as Phoenicia and Cyprus and Antioch, speaking the word to no one except Jews. But there were some of them, men of Cyprus and Cyrene, who on coming to Antioch spoke to the Hellenists also, preaching the Lord Jesus. And the hand of the Lord was with them, and a great number who believed turned to the Lord.

“The persecution that arose over Stephen” refers back three chapters to Acts 8:1 which says “And there arose on that day a great persecution against the church in Jerusalem, and they were all scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except the apostles”. That little phrase, “except the apostles”, is particularly pointed, for whatever reasons lay behind the apostolic inertia in this verse, it means that any specific evangelistic effort to non-Jews had started well before the apostles got their acts (sorry) together. They were still doing their apostolic thing as only they knew how in Jerusalem, even they knew full well what Jesus had said to them way back in Acts 1:8:

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.

Perhaps the apostles were waiting for a written invitation, since Jesus' words in Acts 1 were a starter's gun for world evangelization if ever there was one. But the very first people to hear the call and break out from evangelizing purely Jewish audiences were not apostles, but anonymous believers from Cyprus and Cyrene.

Indeed, it takes a full two chapters before the Apostle Peter, in Acts 10, finally gets around to evangelizing non-Jews. Even then, it's only because he receives an angelic vision, the celestial equivalent of a boot up the backside, that confirms that this might be the right thing to do. Even then, he is immediately hauled up before the other Jerusalem apostles who demand that Peter explain his actions.

Meanwhile, God had already been well and truly blessing the spread of the gospel among the non-Jews without the slightest hint that his Holy Spirit was acting with approval from the institutional church.

One of the messages of this bit of Acts has to be that if you feel the need to tell someone that Jesus is Lord, you don't need to wait for the church's blessing before you say something. Even apostles can be slow off the mark in doing what they ought to do, which means that you can show them the way. Just keep a low profile about it, or you may discover that you have to explain your evangelistic enthusiasm to the church leadership!

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Recently I enjoyed preaching on Romans 16. Perhaps surprisingly, there was a lot to learn from the long list of names. One obvious feature was the many women mentioned.

In recent years, it's been popular to say that the church has oppressed women, that it has little place for them, and even that the Apostle Paul was a woman-hater. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Paul identifies 28 people he wants to greet in Rome. Ten of them are women. Even that statistic is impressive in a fairly male-dominated society. Paul was certainly not ignoring women.

Several women mentioned were obviously important in Christian circles. For example, there is Priscilla in verse 5, mentioned, unusually, before her husband. Obviously she was a capable woman, whom Paul greatly admired. He says she and her husband risked their lives for him. And many were very grateful to her and Aquila.

Then in verse 6 there is Mary, and in verse 12, Tryphena, Tryphosa and Persis—all women who are said to work hard in the Lord.

And we shouldn't forget Phoebe, mentioned in verses 1-2. She's not in Rome, but is travelling there on some matter. She is identified as a ‘servant’, which can also be translated as ‘deacon’. This word was sometimes used for a recognized church office. And so it's quite likely she had a recognized ministry role in the church at Cenchrea. She is also a great help or ‘patron’—probably providing financial or social backing to the Christians. In fact, Phoebe was possibly the one whom Paul trusted to take his letter to the Christians in Rome.

Paul obviously had a lot of time for women like these.

So what conclusions can we draw about the place of women in ministry? Paul's letter says we can be certain there is an honoured place for women in ministry. They were servants of the church, they were Paul's fellow workers and they were hard workers in the Lord. And we should encourage women today to get involved and to work hard in serving the Lord.

But if there's a danger of glossing over the fine ministry done by women, there is an opposite danger of reading too much into the brief references in places like Romans 16. This is exactly what is done by many proponents of an egalitarian approach to ministry.

There's a problem when feminists claim this passage proves women served as public Bible teachers and church leaders. The reality is that the references don't give enough information to define the precise nature of their ministries.

For example, the fact that someone is called of a ‘fellow worker’ with Paul does not prove she was a preacher or a church leader. I consider our office administrator my co-worker. But she does not lead or preach in church. Likewise, my wife is my fellow worker. She administers the music ministry. She teaches children at Kids' Church and in school Scripture, and teaches the women in her Bible study group. But she does not lead or preach in church. So the use of the term ‘fellow worker’ does not prove women may be church leaders.

The same applies to calling Phoebe a deacon. As a patron, Phoebe's ministry may have majored on hospitality or financial support. In Acts 6, those who served as deacons were to help with feeding the poor widows in the Jerusalem church. And in 1 Timothy 3, unlike the church elders, deacons are not required to possess the quality of “being able to teach”. In fact, in 1 Timothy 2:11-15, 3:1-7 (cf. v. 8ff) and 5:17-18, it is the male elders, not the deacons, who oversee or direct the affairs of the church—some of them by preaching and teaching. So this reference to Phoebe as a deacon does not prove she was a church leader or teacher.

Lastly, there is the example of Junia in Romans 16:7:

Greet Andronicus and Junia, my fellow countrymen and fellow prisoners. They are outstanding among the apostles, and they were also in Christ before me. (HSCB)

I've heard this verse used to say women were foundational authoritative apostles. But there are three uncertainties here:

1. The name is grammatically ambiguous: it could be male (Junias) or female (Junia)—although it's most likely female, since almost all the references in other literature from the time suggest Junia was a common female name, but Junias appears virtually unknown.

2. The phrase “outstanding [or ‘prominent’] among the apostles” is also ambiguous. Imagine someone says to you, “Sandy is prominent among the bishops” (unlikely I know!) Does this mean Sandy is a prominent example of a bishop? Or does it mean that Sandy is prominent (as a person or as a minister) in the estimation of the bishops? Grammatically it could be either, although once again, it is arguably more likely an inclusive reference.

3. The third uncertainty is what the word ‘apostle’ means here. It has the basic sense of ‘delegate’ or ‘envoy’ or ‘messenger’ or what we might call a ‘missionary’ (one sent on a mission).

   Often it is used of envoys with special God-given status—especially of the original twelve apostles of Jesus. Paul applies ‘apostle’ to a wider group of eyewitnesses to the resurrection, including himself in 1 Corinthians 15, and to himself in most of the opening greetings of his letters, as one appointed directly by God as his special envoy.

   But elsewhere, he uses the word simply to refer to messengers without any special God-appointed status. For example, in 2 Corinthians 8:23, the term ‘apostles’ is translated as “representatives” in the NIV and as “messengers” (i.e. of local churches) in the ESV. Likewise in Philippians 2:25, Epaphroditus is an ‘apostle’, which simply means Paul's messenger. (This is also the case in John 13:16.)

In other words, even if (as is grammatically possible) Junia is called an ‘apostle’ in this verse, it does not prove she was a church leader and teacher. She may simply have been a Christian messenger or missionary with a range of possible duties, alongside Andronicus, who is most likely her husband.

The word itself does not prove what her role is. And it is dangerous to suggest that this part of the New Testament must contradict the other parts of the New Testament that put certain clear restrictions on women with regards to not teaching or leading a mixed congregation.

Another more subtle problem with this approach is that it suggests that such ministry is the only pinnacle available to a woman. But don't forget how positive Paul is in verse 16 about the mother of Rufus who had also been like a mother to Paul. Her ministry of mothering—of raising children and practising hospitality for a visitor like Paul—is equally commendable to that of Phoebe as a deacon or the outstanding Andronicus and Junia and Priscilla and Aquila.

So today, just like Paul in Romans 16, we need to value and encourage women in the full variety of those ministries legitimately available to them.

Reference: Andreas J Köstenberger, ‘Women in the Pauline Mission’ in The Gospel to the Nations: Perspectives on Paul's Mission, Apollos, 2000, pp. 221-247.

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A most excellent statement from a seemingly unlikely person, heard this morning. The speaker was a tall, retired man in a suit, addressing a younger bearded man who may or may not have had some religious interest, but who had a great deal to say about the Pope, the Roman Catholic church, and the recent Roman Catholic World Youth Day (WYD). They were talking about the re-enactment of the route to Jesus' crucifixion that happened as part of the WYD celebrations. The older man, who spoke broken English with a heavy Armenian accent, had this to say about the re-enactment:

Jesus say after he die, three days later he wake up. I say “Why you no show the wake-up?”

There are so many good things about this comment, it's hard to know where to start. Putting aside the question of whether or not re-enacting the crucifixion is a good idea (especially when embellished with non-biblical mythology, such as Jesus meeting his mother and a woman named Veronica as he went on his way), the old man's question was more than reasonable. It's not only the cross but the resurrection of Jesus which lies at the very heart of what we believe as Christians. Because Jesus rose again, he is revealed as Lord and Judge. Why have a religion which focusses, in its art and drama, on Jesus as a baby, on Mary his mother, and on Jesus nailed to a wooden cross, but which, at the same time, fails to portray his victory over sin and death in the resurrection? For he was “raised for our justification” because if he wasn't, “we are still in our sins”.

As the old man demanded, “Why you no show the wake-up?”

That question was encouraging enough. But, in addition, the old man did not allow himself to be sidetracked by the younger man's rant about the Pope and various pilgrims; instead, he had zeroed in on the heart of the Christian faith, and had proclaimed it in a voice loud enough for all the waiting passengers to hear ... well, it just made my day.

When I see him next (the old man, not the younger man), I am going to go and thank him. For the moment, I'm just saying a word or two to the risen Lord Jesus—that he might make the words of that gospel presentation effective in bringing new life.

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This morning, just for something different, and not at all because some of the Sola Panellists have gone quiet and there's nothing in the cupboard (guys!), let me suggest that you spend your time doing some listening instead: check out this month's Briefing Lounge podcast, ‘Shifting to the personal’.

One thing nearly all the Sola Panellists have in common is that, at one stage or other in our ministry lives, we've been profoundly influenced and trained by Col Marshall. When people think of the ‘St Matthias Movement’ of the 80s and 90s, the planting of 17 churches, the massive growth in people going into Moore College, the large and paradigm-shifting campus work at UNSW, the change in ministry culture that was influential in so many places, and all the rest, they tend to think ‘Phillip Jensen’, and understandably so. And they tend to think that the whole movement was built around Phillip's singular preaching gifts and personality and energy.

But those of us closer to the action know that none of it would have happened, humanly speaking, without Col Marshall. Col was the ‘ministry brains’ of the operation (if I can put it like that). His relentless focus on people, and his equally relentless determination to keep going back to the Bible and rethinking what we were doing in ministry, shaped everything that happened in those extraordinary years.

Col is probably best known for his leadership of MTS (the Ministry Training Strategy), but in ‘Shifting to the personal’, he talks about how institutionalization affects all of us (including MTS), and how we are drawn almost magnetically to structures and programmes rather than people. What would Christian life and ministry and church be like if our priority was to build and work with people as individuals, and to disciple and train them as followers of Christ, rather than to keep the wheel turning on all the programmes and events and structures that seem to take on a life of their own? And what if our home groups really functioned as small ‘c’ churches, and took responsibility for their members, with thoroughly trained leaders who taught and pastored them? And what if the fad for ministry ‘training’ didn't just equip people with skills, but shaped their whole life, character and discipleship?

All this and more, as they say, in this month's Briefing Lounge (the best yet, I think). Have a listen, and pop your comments and questions back here.

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In the comments from one of my GAFCON posts, Sam asks this interesting question:

While reading the material on the GAFCON website during the conference I couldn't help notice the charismatic flavour of many of the comments, particularly those of the African Bishops. Do you have any thoughts on how you see this impacting the wider Anglican community in the future?

I'm not sure exactly which comments Sam means, but in the conference generally there was certainly a bit of mild charismaticism here and there. It was more a matter of flavour than real substance—a few arms in the air, the way the singing was done, some ‘praise the Lord’-style language, but not much more than that. It seems to be part of the unique recipe that is African Anglicanism: a splash of high church colour and movement, a few dollops of charismatic vibrancy, and several cups of good old-fashioned evangelicalism. Charismatic theology or practice wasn't prominent, nor particularly significant in its influence as far as I could see. And whether it will have a wider impact via the growing influence of African Anglicanism, I'm not entirely sure. I suspect not, but I don't feel particularly qualified to make a prophecy.

However, what I would like to do (and hence to the point of this post) is to share a personal observation and a wild hunch, and see if anyone else is as crazy as I am.

I have always thought that something about the charismatic vibe grates with Australian culture. When I was involved in the charismatic movement (nearly 30 years ago), I remember standing there, hands raised, eyes closed in ecstasy, body swaying to the music, calling out “Thank you, Jesus”, or stringing syllables together tongues-style, and feeling ... well, like a bit of goose. A sincere goose, and glad to be a fool for Jesus of course, but a goose all the same.

Now I'm not commenting at all on the genuineness of my devotion at that time, or of those around me, nor on the theology that lay behind it (let's leave that for another time). Nor am I talking about the offence of the gospel, or the way in which living for Jesus means being different from those around us. I'm talking about the style, the little rituals, the patterns of language, the way we arranged our gatherings, how we expressed and enacted our deepest feelings and thoughts—the ‘culture’, in other words. And I never shook the feeling that culturally, Pentecostalism was an odd fit. It felt weird and imposed, like a big Aussie boofhead wearing a grass skirt.

And what has all this to do with GAFCON? Well, as I stood (and sang) shoulder to shoulder with charismatically inclined Anglicans from many different parts of the world, I couldn't help noticing how naturally the African bishop next to me wore the ‘charismatic vibe’. He swayed and waved and sang with a huge smile on his face, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Then there was the white charismatic guy in the row in front of me. He still looked like a goose.

The obvious but somewhat politically incorrect thought struck me: is it possible that classic ‘charismatic’ culture really is African culture? That the late 19th-century black holiness churches which gave birth to pentecostalism passed on to the 20th-century charismatic movement some of its cultural flavour? And that one of the reasons it all feels so strange to Aussies, and maybe less so to Americans, and probably even more so to Brits, is that it is just not us? We have our own ways of rejoicing and celebrating and expressing sincere gratitude. They are no less real or heartfelt or sincere. But they don't usually involve repetitive singing, swaying, dancing and waving.

Maybe this is what we should learn from our joyous, uninhibited African brothers. Maybe we should feel free to be ourselves. And love it.

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