My Dear Shepherds,
I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly like being called Reverend. Clergyman is ponderous too. I’ve also cringed under preacher-man and parson. But then there’s Man of God, a title which seems to come with a black suit, a chiseled face, and a voice like thunder. So, it is surprising that Paul addressed his young protégé, Timothy, that way:
But as for you, O man of God , flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. (1 Tim. 6:11 ESV)
This is the only place in the New Testament where anyone is identified by that title, although the phrase also appears in 2 Timothy 3:16-17,
All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.
(The Greek word translated as “man” in these cases is anthropos, which is gender-neutral, “person.” The Greek aner specifically means “male.”)
“Man of God” is used in the Old Testament of a few of the greats: Moses, David, Elijah, a couple of other prophets, and even an angel, always in the context of them speaking for God. So, Paul wasn’t simply thinking of someone who is devoted to God but someone who is God’s messenger.
What’s striking is that this designation is applied to Timothy, an ordinary young pastor given to timidity and a sour stomach. If he were preaching today he’d probably be wearing jeans and his shirt untucked. (I’m old school.) He hardly seems to be in the same league as those Old Testament powerhouses! Nor are we! But anyone entrusted with the God-breathed scriptures, unveiled by Christ, and illumined by his Holy Spirit, must carry that lofty title! And there I was, complaining about Reverend.
In this paragraph Paul builds to a sobering challenge: “In the sight of God … I charge you to keep this command ….” (v.13). In the verses between “O man of God” and “I charge you,” Paul gives pastors four ministry defining commands—“flee, pursue, fight, and take hold.”
The first is, “flee these things.” In the preceding verses he warns against teachers who spike their preaching with conceit, foolish and destructive controversies, and greed. Even gospel truth can be rendered very nearly powerless by such self-centered preachers. Who among us hasn’t felt the muddy ground on the edge of those slippery slopes? Flee as though the devil were on your heels.
Instead, we must pursue Christlikeness. I used to have the impression that the hard part of preaching was exegesis and homiletics. But that’s not true. The hard part is our persistent pursuit of “righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, [and] gentleness.” Slack off and the message entrusted to us begins to lose credibility and life.
I know a young pastor who, when he began seminary, immersed himself in the Pastoral Epistles, filling three Moleskine journals over the years as he burrowed into each verse. He told me, “In seminary we talked a lot about the text but seldom about the integrity of the shepherd; how to be profound and interesting versus being faithful.” With or without help, that pursuit is up to us.
Good pastors are spiritual pluggers. None of us mature by leaps and bounds; more like three steps forward, one or two steps back. Perhaps we gain a little ground in patience only to realize that love was draining out of our counseling. The dogged pursuit keeps us humble, and all good pastors are humble. If we’re sensible, we wear the title, man or woman of God, uneasily.
Be ye glad!
