Embracing Vulnerability as a Christian Leader

/ Richard Bargas / Leave a comment

“Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. And it was the Mary who anointed the Lord with perfume, and wiped His feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick. So the sisters sent to Him, saying, “Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick.” (John 11:1–3, LSB) 

There is an abundance of goodness in this account of Lazarus being raised from the dead by Jesus that I wish I had the time to discuss this morning. However, the opening verses convey many truths that the rest of the account confirms. Jesus loves His sheep. I’m not suggesting that Jesus only loves His sheep or that His love for them is of the same kind or quality as His love for everyone else. Nevertheless, we cannot examine the life of Christ and deny that Jesus was a loving shepherd to His sheep.

This post continues my thoughts from yesterday about Jesus being the Good Shepherd. You can read that post here. Now, in the next chapter, John 11, Jesus will once again demonstrate how deep His love is for His friends.

In this section, we are reintroduced to the siblings, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Mary has shown her love for Christ by anointing His feet with perfume and wiping His feet with her hair. Martha has been hosting Jesus and the disciples, feeding and caring for them. Lazarus is referenced in verse 3 as “he whom you love.” Jesus the Good Shepherd loves His sheep, and His sheep love Him.

This truth prompted me to reflect on several conversations I’ve had with older pastors. They warned me during my early ministry days that my wife and I should be cautious about becoming too close to those in our congregation. They indicated there was a risk in forming friendships with the people, suggesting that loving them should be maintained from a distance.

I understand. If you keep your distance, when you get burned by others (not if, but when), it will hurt less. Don’t invite them into your life, don’t share, don’t care, and you won’t hurt. All of that is true, but is it faithful? When I look at the life of the Good Shepherd, I see that He wept with those who wept. He was raw, and He even cried. When He saw that Lazarus was dead, Jesus wept (Jn 11:35) even though He knew that He would raise him to life again. 

Jesus wasn’t a cold robot. He didn’t keep people at arm’s length. He had 12 disciples with Him for three years, almost non-stop. They saw Him laugh, cry, and display every human emotion possible, yet without sin. Jesus lived among the sheep, not wrapped in a bubble or in a high tower above them. He touched both the sick and the sinner alike. Are we better than Jesus?

I have experienced many sleepless nights because my troubled heart wakes me from my sleep. I have wept with those who lost loved ones and sat with friends as they faced death. I have laughed deeply until I can hardly breathe. My brothers and sisters in Christ are some of my dearest friends on earth. I feel deeply with them and for them. That’s what love does. And that’s what the Good Shepherd did, and continues to do for His own.If you’re in ministry and someone has told you to stay distant and aloof, don’t buy it. Be wise. Be the mature, Christian leader God has called you to be. But don’t isolate yourself from the sheep to protect your own heart. That’s not only cowardly; it’s ineffective and unfaithful. Remember that a servant is not above his Master (Matt 10:24), and you’re not better than Jesus. Be like Him. Love the sheep.

Balancing Toughness and Tenderness in Pastoral Care

/ Richard Bargas / 2 Comments

“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter by the door into the fold of the sheep, but climbs up some other way, he is a thief and a robber. But he who enters by the door is a shepherd of the sheep. To him the doorkeeper opens, and the sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he brings all his own out, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. A stranger they will never follow, but will flee from him, because they do not know the voice of strangers.” (John 10:1–5, LSB)

This passage about Jesus being both the Good Shepherd and the door of the sheep pen conveys a sense of toughness and tenderness. The sheep are cared for, protected, and guided by this good shepherd. Meanwhile, the thief and robber attempt to gain access to the sheep to steal, kill, and destroy them. However, they cannot do so as long as the Good Shepherd watches over His own.

Christians cling to such imagery because it reminds us of the loving care and protection the Savior gives to us, His sheep. As a pastor, I also appreciate the picture because it reminds me of the dual nature of being a pastor as I try to model my care after Christ’s. Being tough and tender are essential elements in every biblical elder’s life and ministry.

Like many things in life, it is all too easy to fall into extremes. I see fellow pastors struggle to be tough. They are soft on sin, fail to confront, delay, or ignore the need for discipline, and tolerate false doctrine under the guise that they want to be humble. All of these are troubling and can lead a church into very dangerous situations if ignored for too long.

What I observe more frequently nowadays is the opposite extreme. I notice many younger pastors who are trying exceptionally hard to appear tough. They speak harshly and project an image of being strict about sin, particularly concerning the sins of those who don’t completely agree with them on every doctrinal issue. I witness toughness in their congregations, where any disagreement is perceived as dissent and division, met with a severity that is alien to the way Jesus dealt with his own. This portrayal is especially unappealing when found on social platforms like X, where the negativity of chest-thumping and public shaming has escalated to an alarming level. How did we get here?

Jesus used both tender and firm hands with those He encountered, even unbelievers. He understood when it was necessary to be firm and when to be gentle. He rebuked “that fox,” Herod, yet was gracious to the woman at the well and the woman caught in adultery. He wasn’t being lenient on sin. He wasn’t condoning their life choices. Jesus never turned away when sin needed to be addressed. It’s not “tenderness” when we compromise by allowing sin to continue without confrontation or resolution. 

But Jesus didn’t always “bring down the hammer” when He saw sin in others. After all, everyone He met was guilty in some way or another! “If You should keep iniquities, O Yah, O Lord, who could stand? But with You there is forgiveness, That You may be feared” (Psalm 130:3–4, LSB). Instead, Jesus aimed for the hearts of those He walked among. He was more direct with the hard-hearted, and He was gentler with the bruised and broken (“A crushed reed He will not break And a faintly burning wick He will not extinguish; He will bring forth justice in truth” (Isaiah 42:3, LSB).

The Good Shepherd was both tender and tough. Regardless of our natural tendencies, we must strive to embody the heart of our Good Shepherd, who was neither lenient toward sin nor harsh with the broken and weak. By doing so, we will more closely reflect the heart of our Master.

The Heart of Teaching: Aligning with God’s Truth

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“Why do you not understand what I am saying? It is because you cannot hear My word. You are of your father the devil, and you want to do the desires of your father. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth because there is no truth in him. Whenever he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own nature, for he is a liar and the father of lies. But because I speak the truth, you do not believe Me.” (John 8:43–45, LSB)

In the back-and-forth between Jesus and the religious leaders, Jesus made a telling comment regarding the reason behind their resistance to His teaching. These devout Jewish leaders were not representing or speaking on behalf of God as they purported. They were not God’s men, even though almost anyone within Israel would have believed that they were. They had been well-trained in the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings, and they knew the traditions of the rabbis that dated back many years. And yet, Jesus doesn’t align their teaching with God, but rather with Satan.

The root of their teaching wasn’t so much the words they said as the heart from which it emerged. The doctrine they espoused may have found its source in the Old Testament, but it never had penetrated much deeper than their minds. Their hearts were filled with murder and malice. Even though they knew what the Old Testament said and taught, their hearts twisted and ignored God’s teaching so that they were planning murder even in the face of the most unmistakable evidence of Jesus’ divinity.

Just as in the 1st Century, there are a lot of competing ideas about religion. Some incorporate truth with a mixture of folly. Others are more satanic. But even those that are closest to the teaching of Scripture, if not aligned with a changed heart given by the Spirit of God, can lead to cultic, even satanic behavior. In other words, our teaching and doctrine might be orthodox, and yet our hearts might be spewing the infectious poison of hell.

How can we know? Jesus made it clear that knowing the truth is not enough. We must believe the Word of God and not lies. When we read the Scripture and yet our lives demonstrate rebellion against the God of heaven, we ought to pause. “Do I believe, or do I merely say the right things and live in rebellion to the God I say I love?” I can’t answer that question for you, but Jesus’ words are a good reminder for all of us that it is not words versus deeds, but deeds that emerge from beliefs (however imperfect) that give evidence of what is truly in our hearts.

Divine Warfare: What 1 Chronicles Teaches Christians Today

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“With them by their generations according to their fathers’ households were 36,000 troops of the army for war, for they had many wives and sons. Their relatives among all the families of Issachar were mighty men of valor, recorded by genealogy, in all 87,000.” (1 Chronicles 7:4–5, LSB)

Although it’s not the most gripping read in the Bible, the opening chapters of 1 Chronicles are “…God-breathed and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness,” (2 Timothy 3:16, LSB), like every other passage of Scripture. I’ve tried to keep this in mind during my daily Bible reading as I move through this section of my devotional study.

This morning, what caught my eye was the repeated references to the number of men prepared for war among each of the tribes of Israel. Of course, these numbers were both dangerous and essential for the king(s) to know. They are dangerous because they could lead a ruler to rely on physical strength rather than on God, who is the One who fought for the nation. However, these numbers are also crucial for faithful preparation. As Jesus notes, “Or what king, when he sets out to meet another king in battle, will not first sit down and consider whether he is strong enough with ten thousand men to encounter the one coming against him with twenty thousand?” (Luke 14:31, LSB).

The Bible is filled with references to war and battle, both physical and spiritual. Some Christians struggle with the concept of warfare, viewing it as problematic for New Testament believers to engage in anything from war to self-defense. For pacifistic Christian sects, they must grapple with the warfare language used throughout the New Testament (including Jesus calling his disciples to carry swords at one point, cf. Lk 22:36-38) as well as the extensive discussions of warfare found in the Old Testament.

Although we might be able to dismiss war in the Bible as the sinful actions of warmongering rulers and sinful soldiers, we cannot ignore the reality that God Himself is identified as “Lord of Hosts” and “warrior” and that He engages in war with His enemies (Ex 14:14; 15:3; Ps 24:8; Isa 42:13; Jer 20:11; Zeph 3:17). So, if warfare is sinful, then why does the Lord Himself engage in it, and why did the Holy Spirit inspire New Testament writers to use battle imagery when speaking about the Christian life?

I don’t deny that not all wars are equal. I also don’t deny that war and violence are ugly. The fact is that we live on a fallen planet where the wicked and the righteous must coexist. The righteous are called to live at peace with others, so far as it depends on us (Rom 12:18). But what happens when the peaceful are acted upon? What happens when women, children, and the helpless are threatened, and the lives of others are put in danger? Is it not righteous to protect the lives of others? The temple had guards. Things we value have locks, including our homes.

I found an interesting quote in Peter Craigie’s book, The Problem of War in the Old Testament. Referring to a study done by Elbert W. Russell, “…the more orthodox a Christian group or individual may be, the more likely it is that his attitudes will be militaristic.”1 As I stated above, the challenge for pacifist Christians is that the Bible is filled with references to war, warfare, and even God’s direct instruction to Israel on how it should engage in battle. Craigie identifies Russell as a Quaker, and as such, he highlights the paradox of why orthodox teaching on warfare does not deny the place of peace in Christianity. I would add that peace was also the goal of the Old Testament teachings of God to His people.

Some politicians and American presidents have touted the ideal of “peace through strength.” As I read through 1 Chronicles, I can’t deny that militarism and preparation for righteous warfare are not foreign to the Bible, and neither should they be to the lives of modern Christians. One day, we will hammer swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks (Isa 2:4), but that is awaiting King Jesus, who will rule with a rod of iron and be seated on His throne. Until that day, I am thankful for the men who protect the innocent on a daily basis all around the world.

  1. Peter C. Craigie, The Problem of War in the Old Testament. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1978), 14. ↩︎

Improving Writing Skills as a Pastor

/ Richard Bargas / Leave a comment

As a pastor, I wouldn’t write anything that I would consider “formal,” such as articles, papers, or books. After seminary, papers became a thing of the past, but they taught me both good and bad habits. Seminary papers are often meant to be technical and, to be honest, are not the most enjoyable to read. They can be tedious because they are so precise and focus on the minute details of a biblical text that interest scholars, but not most other people. It can take a while for a newly minted seminary graduate to break away from that style of writing when preparing his sermons. If you’ve ever heard a message given by one of these young men, then you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I began leading a church as their pastor after my first year of seminary. I knew I wasn’t ready yet, but the church was small and needed someone to guide them, and my pastor was confident that with his help and guidance, I would be okay. I found that the combination of experience with the congregation, time spent in seminary classrooms, and hours spent reading had a positive effect on me. The reading assignments and papers I wrote had focus and purpose. They reflected the idea of the pastor-scholar, the shepherd who invests deeply in his studies so that he can frequently emerge to tend to the sheep with loving care and deep devotion. Being a scholar is a lot of work, and so is being a shepherd of God’s sheep. But merging the two is a joyful labor that offers the best of both worlds.

I write all of this because it was in this laboratory of the local church that I truly began writing in a different way. In serving my local church, I was writing—but not on exegetical minutiae; nor was I producing the emotional devotional material typically found in church newsletters. Mainly focusing on expositions, my writing aimed to merge the deeper thoughts of the biblical text with practical applications and illustrations. Making hard concepts understandable for the person in the pew was a labor of love.

I have once again begun writing for this blog because I need to continue honing my writing. I write for the Voice magazine and constantly edit the content we create. But writing takes a certain amount of practice and discipline if you want to become a decent writer. I want to grow in this area, and so I need to write every day, if possible.

Our world is shifting from humans to machines. Artificial intelligence, like social media, is changing our environment. People have shorter attention spans, read less, and possess less patience for anything longer than a few brief sentences. This has also impacted how people write. Younger generations struggle with spelling, at least without the aid of auto-correct. Many can’t write in longhand (cursive). Additionally, crafting sentences that flow smoothly and are readable is becoming increasingly rare. I often read news articles from major outlets that are filled with typographical errors. Just yesterday, I read a scholarly journal article packed with misspelled words. This reflects both poor writing and inadequate editing. I mention this not to throw stones but to encourage you to personally combat this tide of dehumanization. Read books. Write. Sharpen your craft if you are a pastor.

If you’d like to sample some of my more formal writing for the IFCA International magazine, The Voice, you can read it here. I have written the first article in each issue for about six years. I am greatly indebted to the many fine writers we feature, which makes our magazine an excellent blend for the church of the pastor-scholar ideal.