Does this type of sinful activity happen today within local church communities and denominations? Do people, even leaders, ever try to use force, status (position of privilege), or money to leverage the broader church community for self-serving ends, to gain more privilege(s)?
We would hope not, but if we’re honest, unfortunately, I think we need to admit this still happens. In such cases force isn’t as frequently utilized, since it’s less socially acceptable; but status and money don’t always raise as many red flags for us, allowing this duplicity and testing of God to still occur in ways analogous to the actions of A&S.
What might this look like today? I think we see parallels of A&S today whenever people use their status, heritage, or position to intentionally ensure that their voice is the privileged one in the room. It happens even in more crass forms similar to A&S, when an apparent benefactor promises a generous donation only if, or threatens to withhold a promised contribution unless, the benefactor receives what they desire.
When venomous leveraging is allowed to operate within the church, the community becomes poisoned, and its cohesion begins to break down, including its ability to bear true witness to the new righteous and truthful kingdom of Jesus. In short, unchecked manipulation within the community threatens gospel proclamation. That’s why Peter says that such “benefactors” may very well find themselves being used by Satan.
While people echoing A&S’s manipulative behaviour today don’t usually drop down dead, Satan still tries to influence the church in this way, and God still despises this type of action. We don’t need to wait for an act of God; Acts 5 provides the church with the object lesson.
How should the church respond?
What should we do if we suspect this type of behaviour is operating in our midst? Here we need to move slowly and carefully, since situations are often complex and not always easy to judge. Each case needs to be carefully examined on its own merit to avoid making errors of association with other cases that seem (but may not be) quite the same. We certainly need the Spirit’s help to discern any given circumstance.
The need for discernment
Perhaps the offending individual, for example, isn’t quite as callous as A&S, and their motives seem mixed — on the one hand they seem to be using manipulative methods to get their way, but on the other they seem to care about broader aspects of the church and its mission. The offender may even be confused and believe their manipulative actions are needed to acquire what they deem worthy spiritual goals for the community. They may not fully appreciate that God cares equally, if not more, about our methods than he does results.
Other times the circumstances are less complex, and it’s more obvious that moral violation through manipulation is happening (even if no one wants to identify it as such). In both cases the response of the church needs to be careful, yet firm. Members of the church need to be help accountable for this type of action, and all the more so if clergy engage in this behaviour, since the stakes are so much higher.
Understanding why we don’t respond
But why does manipulation and abuse of privilege of this sort often go unchecked in the church? One reason might be that we just don’t feel that manipulation of the community of Christ to be all that bad — at least not as bad as other sins. I use the word “feel” here intentionally, meaning that actions comparable to A&S don’t bother our conscience as much as other violations. But I would caution us here that this is due largely to how we’ve been socialized to feel about such matters, and may have little to do with how God feels about them.
Compared, say, to what my own Pentecostal tradition (with its holiness roots) identifies as worth calling out as significant sins — sexual immorality, financial fraud, inebriation from drugs or alcohol, and so forth — the sin of A&S should be right up there at the top of the list. In fact, if God’s reaction is anything to go by, the sin of A&S is worse than drunkenness or getting high, and arguably more significant than many other of the sins that would bring church members and certainly clergy under discipline within my own denomination.
Sometimes the hesitancy to expose and identify this type of sin is due to the idea that this type of behaviour manifests less explicitly than some other sins. It’s just easier to keep manipulation secret or ambiguous than it is a drunken brawl. But what makes identifying this type of sin a challenge, also what makes doing so very necessary. Sin that holds such drastic potential to damage the witness of the community, while at the same time being able to fly under the radar is very dangerous indeed. And just because identifying a particular type of sin may require extra effort or discernment is not a reason to throw up our hands and act as if it didn’t exist. Aside from this, I’m also not as convinced that A&S-type actions are as ambiguous as we might think they are, which leads to the next point.
Another reason that manipulation and abuse of privilege goes unchecked in the church has to do with the way communities operate to preserve their own existence. This includes pressure that encourages loyalty to the community as a moral duty, even when other known moral boundaries are being violated. In those circumstances, loyalty can supersede, say, fairness or justice (on this see Jonathan Haidt’s, The Righteous Mind, and to identify what matters to you most morally, try this test).
Perhaps, for example, the offending individual already has considerable status and influence in our church. Perhaps he or she has an enchanting and charismatic personality, or comes from a respected family heritage. These features serve to build abundant social capital, which is why such individuals can afford to “spend” (so to speak) some of that capital when using manipulative behaviour, and be fairly confident the community will (should!) tolerate the selfish ambition.
But perhaps the community simply needs the benefactor’s money, and so a blind eye is turned when it cost some communal integrity to receive the money. Or perhaps the cost of calling out manipulative behaviour is just too high. Calling things out can mean loss of significant social capital, especially for a lone whistle-blower (maybe even damaging a career). But perhaps we just don’t want to rock the boat, cause dissension, or be accused of gossip and slander.
Dissension, gossip, and slander are certainly something to avoid, since they too are devilish. But Peter’s response to A&S committed none of those sins. Peter spoke the truth, the truth revealed by the Spirit of truth. His Spirit-led response exposed the true motives of A&S, while at the same time exhibiting what the church community should and should not be.
Peter’s courageous response did not keep the immediate peace. He believed this type of sin required a response that just might rock the boat. But his actions did protect the longer-term peace, integrity, and witness of the church. It kept the devil out of the church, at least for the time being. Luke’s account of this story highlights the importance of calling out this type of sin.
A courageous community
What happened to A&S also, according to Luke, made others think twice about joining the church. Do I really want to live in a community where I can’t use my status, money, and privilege to move my way up and get what I want? I can use those methods pretty much any other social grouping; why would I want to give up that type of power?
The early church, it seems, was not the community for everyone. Well, it was for everyone, but it didn’t operate according to everyone’s preference. But for those with a heart changed by Jesus, it was a community of truth, peace, and joy.
Acts 5:1-11 calls the church to vigilance. A community that exists to represent Jesus’ kingdom values needs to be mindful of the devil’s schemes, including the temptation to use manipulative means to acquire social capital for selfish ends. That community is called to have the courage to refuse to allow that type of behaviour to operate unchecked in Jesus’ church. This was important for the first generation of Christians; it’s important for us today.
I offer the following as some key summary take-away points for understanding Acts 5:1-11, along with some suggestions for recognizing the behaviour of A&S in our own lives and contexts. What we ought to do about such behaviour is something I’m still prayerfully considering. (But I think I’m in good company in exploring the ramifications of this passage, with many Christian leaders currently speaking out about all manner of corruption, and abuse of power and privilege these days [e.g., racism, etc.]).
Why so violent?
To start, this passage is not an easy one for a couple of reasons. First, people instantly dropped down dead for their actions and it freaked everyone out (and it gives us chills today). This seemingly over-the-top response by the Holy Spirit to sin seems difficult to square with Jesus’ loving message and actions. But I’m going to leave aside the troublesome issue of divine violence in this post so that I can zero in on the nature of A&S’s sin. Whatever the sin was, I think it’s pretty obvious that God views it far more seriously than our consciences might make us feel about it (and frankly God’s conscience matters more than ours).
What did they do?
The second difficulty is this. A&S’s sin is perhaps not immediately clear to us on first reading. It was likely far more evident for the first century hearers of the story, but for some reason not for us. We do know that whatever they did was pretty bad. But what the heck was it? And how do we not repeat it? And what do we do about those who do seem intent on repeating it today?
Deciphering the story
Let me summarize some points that have helped me decipher this story, and hopefully identify some reasons why I think it’s important for the church to pay attention to it today (especially for us Pentecostals, since it’s only three chapters after Acts 2!).
1) The problem in the story was not about money, but how money was being (mis)used.
This story involved, but isn’t really about, money. So, it is not a story to be used to “encourage” people to give away all their money, or even a lot of money, to the church. Peter makes it clear to A&S, giving to the church was voluntary. The problem was what they tried to do with their money. A&S were using their money to portray themselves as generous and whole-hearted devotees to the community, but they were were being duplicitous, lying to the church and God.
Why try to portray yourself as something you’re not, and spend a lot of money in the process? A&S believed their money could be used to purchase something more valuable. What exactly was it?
2) Ananias and Sapphira were not acting in ignorance.
Before answering the above question, we need to note that both A&S consciously conspired to misrepresent themselves, and lied when confronted about it. So, this is more serious, it seems to me, than someone misrepresenting themselves out of fear (e.g., Peter’s fear-motivated denial of Jesus). This was premeditated deception with a clear agenda in mind.
This does not mean, however, that A&S fully understood the ramifications of their deceit. At risk of getting ahead of ourselves, they were acting in a manner that might have been considered acceptable in a culture where status and its privilege was something considered worth acquiring. Nevertheless, they were not ignorant, and they knew they were doing wrong, evidenced by the fact that they tried to conceal their actions using deception.
It’s noteworthy here that many times (but not always) when actions are kept from public light it is an indication that those involved know that what’s being hidden is unethical (= immoral); otherwise, why keep it hidden?
3) Ananias and Sapphira schemed to illegitimately acquire disproportionate “social capital”
Here we come to the heart of A&S’s motivation. The couple had previously witnessed Barnabas being honoured for his generosity and they wanted some of that notoriety (Acts 4:32-37). As a number of commentators note, A&S were likely seeking to gain acclaim within the young church (“What generous folks these are!”). But brief acclamation alone is likely insufficient motivation for this type of duplicity. Mikayla’s label of “social capital” helps expand what comes with the acclaim A&S sought. For them the deceitfully leveraging of resources would gain them abundant community status and privilege(s), along with increased influence (ability to get their way) within the community.
This type of social capital isn’t free, of course. But A&S had ample money at their disposal, and in most communities money usually comes with a measure of influence. All they had to do, they thought, was use some of their money to buy some social capital. But how much? Spending all of it seemed too high a price. Acclaim and privilege is one thing, but they couldn’t gamble it all. They needed some future currency for a rainy day. So, they figured that about half their money would be about right. A steep price to be sure, but acquiring privilege doesn’t come cheap.
Then Peter said, “Ananias, how is it that Satan has so filled your heart that you have lied to the Holy Spirit…”
Acts 5:3
Peter rightly identifies this attempt to manipulate and exploit the community of Jesus as satanic. The devil was trying to get a foothold in the door of the church (Acts 5:3).
4) Community manipulation is considered “testing” (presuming upon) God
9 Peter said to her, “How could you conspire to test the Spirit of the Lord?….”
Acts 5:9
A&S perhaps believed that God probably wouldn’t notice or care, or that he’d overlook their duplicity and manipulation. After all, they were bringing much needed money to a community in its infancy. It may even be the case that they thought their actions would be of ultimate benefit to the church (while simultaneously being personally beneficial). In that case the deception and money-leveraging was somehow pragmatically justified (if something brings about an immediate good end, we can probably overlook some indiscretions in the method). And after all, isn’t that just how things operate in the world everywhere anyway? If I find myself with resources that others don’t, such as abundant monetary or social capital, doesn’t this permit me the privilege of leveraging (manipulating) my capital to get more privilege(s)?
This was, as Peter says, putting God to the test (Acts 5:9). Was he truly a God of justice and holiness, treating everyone without regard for social status or wealth? Or would he look sideways as this type of community deception and manipulation tried to slither its way into the church?
As it turns out, A&S discovered that God really is no respecter of persons.
5) God upheld justice, while also protecting the fledgling church from power-politics.
Because the fledgling church was at high risk of being permanently damaged at such a fragile stage in its development, God intervened in a radical way. God’s reaction was not simply tied to his aversion to injustice and lying. The deaths of A&S served not only as their judgement, but also as an act to protect the community and the gospel they carried (as well as a timeless object lesson). What was at risk here was nothing less than a potential sabotage of the newly formed church (Acts 5:11 is the first time Luke uses the word “church” [ecclesia] to describe this community).
A&S had shown they were not truly co-servants of the community, but instead were intent on using the community to serve their own interests and so demonstrating themselves disloyal (thanks to Stephen Barkley for helping me see this better). This is difficult for those of us in hyper-individualistic cultures to see at first. But God’s big goal is not simply the conversion of individuals, but the formation of a community of witnesses, though whom the message of Jesus as true king would be proclaimed and exhibited. This community would proclaim not only with words, but would bear witness by living out a distinct set of values.
The values of the community of Jesus would be contrary to what was commonly accepted in a pagan culture, in which people strove to “lord over” others. Sometimes this goal could be achieved by leveraging physical force, status, or money. Jesus had spoken against this very value system in Luke’s first volume, 22:24-27.
24 A dispute also arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. 25 Jesus said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. 26 But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. 27 For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.
Luke 22:24-27
To have permitted A&S to attain status as communal “benefactors,” while turning a blind eye to their deceitful and essentially pagan method for attaining social capital, would threaten to malform the impressionable young church from within. The very DNA, so to speak, of the church was in danger of being mutated into something monstrous. At risk was what it meant for the church to bear witness to Jesus, since they proclaimed a king that was unlike the kings of the world. Also at risk was community cohesion, since duplicity undermines trust. We cannot trust when we suspect that people are not as they seem.
So, this for me helps explain the radical reaction of the Spirit. He was protecting the church, and protecting the message of the gospel. But what does this mean for the church today? We’ll pick up this question in part 3.
It took only a few minutes after hearing the story for her to label what was quite likely the underlying motivation of the characters involved. The story was from Acts 5:1-11, of Ananias and Sapphira, a husband and wife who were members of the first century church. The story’s interpreter was my 20-year-old daughter, Mikayla. I was the story-teller.
But why would a father make his daughter listen to a paraphrased retelling of this odd story in the first place? Some context is needed.
What clergy do on Facebook
I belong to a Facebook group for credentialed clergy belonging to the Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada and Newfoundland/Labrador. I’d posted several questions in this group concerning the story of Ananias and Sapphira (A&S for short). I won’t rehearse all the details of this story (you can read it here). But in short, A&S attempted to deceive the early church about how much money they had in fact donated to the church. The deception was revealed to the apostle Peter (presumably by the Holy Spirit), and they both ended up dropping dead in what seems to be a direct act of God. Yikes!
My questions for my clergy friends were these. What was it that A&S actually did wrong that resulted is such an extreme conclusion? What was their sin? Merely lying? Death seems an overly harsh consequence in that case (didn’t Peter, after all, lie about knowing Jesus in the not to distant past?). But if not lying, then what?
It seems pretty important to figure this out, since whatever they were doing, God was unusually upset with it. Figuring this out might help us avoid doing whatever it was A&S were doing. And tied to this, what would this sin of A&S look like today anyway? Is this one of those ancient “sins” that no longer applies today, or does it still happen and matter today? And if it does happen, why don’t people keep getting struck down for it? Finally, how should the church respond if we’re aware of this type of sin taking place in our midst?
The story is not an easy one to interpret, which made discussion among this clergy group engaging and fruitful. We all (I think) learned some things, and it helped me sharpen my interpretation of the passage.
Late night chat with Gen Z
Later, during a late night chat with my daughter, I got the fun idea of presenting her with the same questions I’d posed to the clergy. What would a member of Gen Z think about the A&S episode?
I paraphrased the episode, and then asked (maybe interrogated) her about what might have motivated the characters. On the surface we know that money and deception are involved. But what did A&S think they were going to gain from using money and deception?
After only a few minutes of banter and processing, Mikayla labeled the motivation as likely being tied to acquiring “social capital.” Mikayla is entering her third year of university, majoring in psychology, and minoring in anthropology and philosophy. Apparently her exposure to the social sciences were coming in handy for interpreting Scripture! (And I was pleased to see that our tuition dollars were being well spent!)
Social capital and manipulation
I’m not a social scientist and am open to correction here. But as far as I understand it, social capital is the term used among social scientists to describe how belonging to a society or group mutually benefits all involved, provided that you play by the rules. So, if I treat others well by, say, being trustworthy, industrious, generally supportive, etc., then, all things being equal, I will also benefit in various ways. Others will grow to trust me, share or trade with me, and help me when needed. In other words, by acting in a particular way (trustworthy, diligent, etc.) I gain social currency, which I can then redeem depending on the level of trust I’ve engendered in a given community.
So what does this have to do with A&S? Well, first, desiring the mutual benefits that come with communal belonging isn’t the problem. Jesus encourages his followers to be honest, generous people, who, as a result, will likely become the type of neighbour that someone would usually like to have around. But Jesus also said there are good and bad ways to engender others’ trust and loyalty. A very bad way to do this is by manipulation, either by force (physical or social), or by misrepresenting ourselves in a way that essentially leaves others with no rational choice but to feel and act as if they owe us something, mainly significant respect or honour, and the privilege that comes with it (see Matt. 5:33-37 and 6:1-18).
All that to say, when Mikayla said that A&S were trying to gain social capital, she meant this in the sense of trying to manipulate a situation in order to gain excessive or disproportionate power and influence within the early church community. A&S attempted to use money and deception to leverage influence and privilege(s), and that’s a very serious problem.
But to make sure I’m not rushing to impose a current social science interpretation anachronistically onto an ancient text, we need to unpack the story a little more. This will help reveal why I believe Mikayla’s hunch was correct, and why understanding this is imperative for the church today. We’ll explore this in part 2.
If you’ve spent any time in a typical evangelical or Pentecostal church, you’ve likely heard that Christians are called to give a “tithe” of their income to the church, but one may also give over and above, voluntarily, an “offering.” The tithe is expected; the offering is a freewill gesture. But is this involuntary/voluntary distinction between the tithe and offering supportable biblically, or is it more a distinction resulting from tradition or pragmatism (i.e., it’s a convenient and helpful practice)?
Dr. David A. Croteau
(If you read to the end you can give your feedback in a brief poll, so read on!)
I’ve just finished reading, You Mean I Don’t Have to Tithe?: A Deconstruction of Tithing and a Reconstruction of Post-Tithe Giving, by David A. Croteau (a book in the McMaster Divinity College’s Theological Studies series). For one raised in a tradition that assumed tithing to be an established biblical principle, applicable from the time before Moses to the current day, I’ve found this carefully researched study to be both challenging and refreshing. Related to the above question, Croteau is helping me rethink the tithe/offering distinction.
Tithing Then
For context, many Christian today understand tithing as the practice of giving one tenth of one’s income to one’s local church. This practice is usually grounded in certain Old Testament Bible passages that mention God’s people, both before and during the implementation of the Mosaic law, as giving a tithe of their resources indirectly to God. I say indirectly because actually the resources were given to people whom God had designated to be recipients of the tithe.
For example, the Levites were a tribe of ancient Israelites who were called to dedicate themselves to religious service. But this meant that unlike other tribes they had not inherited any land (aside from four dozen cities) on which to grow their own food. Non-Levite tribes were to tithe of their resources (specifically, the produce of the land, with other forms of income not being mentioned) so that the Levites might have food, and be able to dedicate themselves explicitly to sacred ministry. It was God’s way of ensuring that the Levites shared an inheritance along with the other tribes.
Aside from tithing 10% to the Levites, ancient Israelites were required to participate in other regular tithes, which, according to Croteau, totaled about 20% of their resources (others report a bit less or a lot more, but 20% seems a reasonable number here). So where did the idea of only a 10% tithe come from?
The 10% cap is often tied to pre-Moses Israelite history. Here Abraham serves as the prime example, having given 10% of his spoils of war to the enigmatic priest, Melchizedek. Croteau does note that Abraham’s tithe is only ever mentioned as a one-time event and not a regular practice, but leaving that aside, the point here is that the 10% number used here has become a firmly established biblical directive for Christian giving today. But how exactly did that happen, and how did the sharing of agricultural resources expand to include other gross income?
Tithing Now
The popular application for tithing today, as far as I understand it, reasons by analogy more or less along the following lines.
Just as ancient Israelites tithed to a group overseeing sacred work (Levites), so too must Christians today tithe to support sacred and Christian missional work.
Nowadays, since pastors and/or church staff function in ways roughly analogous to Levites, tithes should go to the church to support the pastors/staff and the general work of the church.
Further, since we don’t function primarily as an agricultural society, we don’t give the fruit of the land, but a percentage of our earned income (and I will skirt the gross vs. net debate here).
The tithe, again, is considered a requirement for all Christians, often regardless of one’s financial situation. To not tithe is often deemed as stealing from God, based on a very literal application of an OT text, Malachi 3:8 (which we will return to shortly). So, in this logic, tithing is important and negligence of this duty is no small matter.
Interlude: Giving Is Good
Let me interrupt briefly and say at this point that I’m all in favour of supporting pastors, teachers, and church ministries with ample giving. Generous giving is needed to help the church (and parachurch ministries) do what they’re called to do. Very often those called to such ministries are personally sacrificing much to be faithful to their God-given callings, and the corporate church needs to share in supporting the ministries they believe should be operating, including caring financially for those who have given up other opportunities to serve in this capacity. The New Testament (NT) clearly calls Christians to do this. So, this post should not in any way be viewed as questioning the necessity of sacrificial giving of all Christians to support the local church and other charitable ministries.
In fact, while Croteau does propose that we ditch all tithing language for Christians today and recognize that we live in a post-tithe era, he nevertheless argues that generous and sacrificial giving is a crucial practice for followers of Jesus. In the place of tithing he argues that the NT provides very good directives that, if accepted, should lead to greater generosity among Christians. He anticipates that following NT giving principles, rather than tithing, would lead many believers to start giving more than an obligatory 10%.
My purpose here, however, is not to explore those NT directives, and so I recommend that you read his book and see what you think.
And now back to the point.
What’s the Deal with “Offerings”?
As noted, a favourite go-to passage in support of present-day tithing is Malachi 3:8-10:
“Will a mere mortal rob God? Yet you rob me. “But you ask, ‘How are we robbing you?’ “In tithes and offerings. You are under a curse—your whole nation—because you are robbing me. Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.
Croteau thinks that Malachi 3 is simply been misused when directly applied to Christian programmatic giving today. But again you’ll need to read his book to explore the reasons why. Here I just want to focus our attention on the two key words at the end of v. 8 — “tithes” and “offerings.”
We’ve already surveyed how the concept of tithe is often applied today. But what about “offerings”? After all, both tithes and offerings appear in this very same passage, and so if one is deemed applicable for today, to be consistent, so too should the other. And indeed what I’ve heard pretty much my entire life is that both of these terms can be applied to Christians giving today, but with an important distinction. One type of giving is assumed obligatory and the other not.
To recap, tithing (10% of one’s income) is obligatory for the Christian. That is the minimum expected. But one doesn’t have to stop at 10%, and may also give more, although one is not required to do so. Anything given over and above the tithe, then, is given voluntarily (freely), and is labelled an “offering.” In short, how this is generally conveyed in many churches today is that the tithe is expected of every Christian believer, but offerings are a freewill gift that Christians may give over and above the tithe minimum. Some churches may even teach that tithes are for general church operations, but offerings are over and above, and may be applied to such things as giving to missionaries, building programs, special outreach events, etc.
In any case, these two types of giving — obligatory and freewill — find their biblical basis and defined distinction in Malachi 3.
Or do they?
No Freewill Offerings?
Croteau gives us reason to be less certain of this involuntary/voluntary giving distinction (and oh how we hate uncertainty!). He notes that the offerings in Malachi 3:8 would have been understood in that context not to be freewill gifts over and above the tithe, but instead as a different category of obligatory giving. Offerings, he explains, were particular donations designated to support the priests in their temple duties, in the form of sacrificial foods (e.g., meats and bread cakes). This category of donation is exemplified in what are known as peace offerings, wave offerings, and so forth (Ex. 29; Lev. 7). But contrary to being optional, says Croteau, “Like tithes, these were compulsory contributions required by the Mosaic law for the temple staff.”
…the offerings in Malachi 3:8 would have been understood in that context not to be freewill gifts over and above the tithe, but instead as a different category of obligatory giving.
So, “offerings” were not freewill in contrast to obligatory tithes. Rather, both tithes and offerings were required of Israelites. There was not, at least in the Malachi passage, any idea of a distinction between involuntary and voluntary giving. Again, it was all obligatory.
And aside from Croteau’s historical-cultural observation, it seems to me that this makes better logical sense of the passage as well. One can hardly be accused of robbing God by witholding freewill offerings that one was never obligated to give in the first place, right?
So, the common idea that tithes and offerings are categorically different based on distinct motivations (involuntary/voluntary) cannot be supported by Malachi 3:8. We might look elsewhere in Scripture to support giving over and above what was expected in ancient Israel, but not to Malachi.
Well, so what if both these and offerings are obligatory in Malachi? Glad you asked.
Options for Offerings
If tithes are required today, based on Malachi (and other texts), then why not offerings too? But then we must ask, what exactly would be analogous to an offering today? Remember, an offering is not simply a freewill gift. It is obligatory as much as the tithe. So, if the tithe is 10%, then what ought we to require with regard to the offering?
We have several options. Here are three main directions I think we could take.
1) We could continue to assert that “offering” means a freewill gift, over and above what’s required in tithes. But if Croteau is correct (and if the logic of the passage is to remain coherent), we would have little textual support in Malachi for doing so. We could stop using Malachi for this distinction, however, and maybe that would solve the problem. Although that might also mean coming up with another term other than “offerings” for this type of freewill gift, since Malachi is the one who provides the term.
2) We could, alternatively, stick with Malachi and introduce an “offering” requirement in churches on top of the tithe. This would entail deciding on a fixed amount or percentage that seemed reasonable for the obligatory offerings. So, every believer would be expected to give a 10% tithe and X% in offerings. But that idea might not gain traction quickly, and I’d prefer not to be the one to introduce it!
3) Another option is to simply say that, in contrast to the tithe, the offering in Malachi is no longer obligatory — it was a required sacrifice then, but this requirement no longer applies today. But there’s a consistency problem here. On what grounds would we say obligatory offerings do not continue, when we use the same Malachi passage to largely ground the continuation of tithing?
Which of the above three options do you think would be the most supportable and helpful? How would you overcome the difficulties in selecting that option? Or, what other options might be a way of solving the case of Malachi’s missing “freewill” offering?
A Poll!
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Now we come to the final tip in this series. To recap, during times of doctrinal change and uncertainty our inner and social worlds may feel considerably destabilized. This uncertainty is due to the multifarious opinions on pretty much all theological matters online, in books, podcasts, webinars, and so forth. And even more personally, for me, this uncertainty is intensified because my denomination, the PAOC, is undergoing a “doctrinal refresh,” and rewriting its doctrinal articulation, its Statement of Fundamental and Essential Truths (SOFET).
The full SOFET revision in scheduled come to the General Conference floor for some sort of decision in 2020. So, approaching this event, I thought it might be helpful to process not the specific content of PAOC doctrinal beliefs, but instead how we process our beliefs in general. Understanding this will provide a framework for decision-making when it comes to doctrinal decision-making. Let me also state here that the points in this blog series are not intended to be applied only to PAOC contexts. I’m really trying to outline a helpful way for Christians of all stripes to think about their beliefs.
To this point I’ve recommended two tips in my previous blogs in this series: 1) Don’t panic (dealing with the psychological impact of challenges to our beliefs), and 2) Be humble when it comes to what we think we can know, and be ok with some level of uncertainty.
Now we come to the final tip.
Tip 3: Accept that there are Levels of Theological Truth (not all “fundamental and essential truths” are necessarily fundamental or essential for Christian faith)
Off the bat this might look like I’m challenging the title of the PAOC’s SOFET, but that’s not really my goal here (I can live with the title). The challenge is that the SOFET contains doctrines that are neither fundamental nor essential to Christian faith. This doesn’t mean these are not important doctrines (especially if one intends to hold credentials with the PAOC); it simply means that one can be a faithful Christian without believing every single one of these doctrines. Some of the doctrines are more fundamental and essential than others.
The point is this: There are levels of theological truth, and we need to accept this to function well not only in times of doctrinal refreshes and disputes, but throughout life in general, if we hope to grow in maturity in Christian faith and to avoid psychologically injuring ourselves personally and corporately by living in a state of over-protective hyper-vigilance.
Lest this seem to be my opinion alone, I’m happy that this very point was made publicly by a member of the SOFET committee during a presentation at the PAOC General Conference earlier this year (May 2018). One goal of the SOFET refresh in part is to help better focus the content on what is really fundamental and essential, giving less emphasis to what might be less central. There was no dispute raised on the floor to this idea, and so I will take this silence as tacit consent to the general point I’m making here 😊.
To appreciate this, we need to better understand how we tend to hold beliefs mentally.
A Common Belief Model: The House of Cards
One of the most helpful illustrations regarding how we tend to hold beliefs comes from Gregory Boyd’s, The Benefit of the Doubt. He proposes two models for how we hold our beliefs psychologically: a house of cards and concentric circles.
The house of cards model refers to the pastime of building a “house” using playing cards by leaning one card up against another. By progressively adding cards, an impressive structure can be erected. Provided that all the cards remain in place, one can continue to add to the structure, making it ever more complex. But the very method of construction is also the inherent weakness of this house. Every card relies on all the others for its stability. Remove one card and the entire house collapses.
Boyd says that often Christians hold their beliefs in a similar way. This is often due to what I addressed in my second tip (part 3 of this blog series), that we may have learned to take all teaching we have received from pastors and Christian leaders as absolute truth. All of it. And when we do this, we begin to feel that each of these “truths” bears equal importance. No one likely asserts this explicitly, but it becomes a psychological reality. Each “truth” functions like a card in the overall doctrinal house of cards. Each conviction is so emotionally connected to the others that each comes to bear almost equal weight. We feel it deeply because we’ve learned to do so. And when all the beliefs are in place, we feel safe within the walls of our cozy card-house fortress.
This does imply, however, that each card in our fortress needs to be protected as if our life of faith depended on it. For if even one belief is doubted, or turns out to be untrue, the entire mental structure is jeopardized, and this can easily lead to a crisis of faith.
For example, we might happen to discover, despite what our pastor perhaps strongly preached, that the evidence for a pre-tribulation rapture in Scripture is not so blatantly obvious as we supposed in contrast to other timing-of-the-rapture theories (or even more unsettling, that there might be far less scriptural evidence for a two-stage return of Jesus than assumed in dispensationalist systems!). Now, please know that this paragraph is not intended to open the door for a debate on eschatology and Left Behind novels—that’s not the point. The example above is only intended here for hypothetical illustration. The point is that if one becomes less sure about something they were told was very true, and they find out it isn’t necessarily as true (or maybe outright false), and if that doctrine was promoted as being of great importance (such that to not believe it would make your commitment to Jesus or at least the church community suspect), then this does open to door to wondering what else you were taught that doesn’t have quite the scriptural backing you thought. And this, I believe, is the place many faithful Christians are in today.
In the house of cards model, once one conviction is weakened the entire structure is threatened. When one doctrine is removed, the edifice collapses.
How the House of Cards Model Affects Us
How does this affect those holding this model, practically? I will stereotype here for convenience, but this I think the following is fairly accurate.
Personally, holding this model has the advantage of providing a feeling of assurance and confidence; at least most of the time. And this feeling feels so good. However, it also comes with potential anxiety over losing this feeling by being exposed to new information or ideas that do not fit within the card house, and so one needs to be vigilant to spot any maverick theology that might threaten the safety of the card fort. Theology in this view is often assumed to be a fixed discipline; theology is something figured out by theologians about 500 years ago or so (in Protestant traditions and their offspring). Currently, all we need to do is package theology in new ways to ensure cultural relevance. The content doesn’t (should not!) change, and so all that’s required is be reminded from time to time of what we believe (i.e., what has been resolved once and for all), and then market this content better (or not). But any revisions to theology are considered threatening in this model because they are considered a movement away from a static deposit of truth. So, personally opening oneself to, say, new scientific discoveries, or alternative Christian viewpoints on any number of matters is by default a move away from truth and toward a potential collapse of faith. Openness to knowledge from outside the doctrinal system is often considered too risky, and so one avoids listening to other than what one has been taught.
Socially, this model does connect people in strong ways, provided they all agree on pretty much everything. But this requires a hyper-vigilance among those in the particular church community. One must not only constantly evaluate oneself, but also others to determine whether they are in or out of, or poses a danger to, the house of cards. Public expression of doubts, questions, or alternative ideas is discouraged on threat social exclusion (or at least not being quite “trusted,” which removes leadership opportunities). Theologically, this model can encourage debates concerning non-essential theological matters, since there are (almost) no non-essential theological matters! Such communities are ripe breeding grounds for judgmentalism and theological witch-hunting.
Although there are positives—feeling certain and being strongly connected to like-minded others—the house of cards model is not sufficiently flexible for mature Christian faith. The world is more complex than this model allows, and it fails to acknowledge that humans can continue to grow in knowledge of God and the universe. Another model is needed.
A Better Belief Model: Boyd’s Concentric Circles
As an alternative to the house of cards, Boyd recommends a concentric circles model of beliefs. In a concentric circle, certain beliefs are more central or core than others. Outside the core are beliefs that are of secondary or tertiary importance. This does not mean that beliefs outside the core are not significant; it only means recognizing that not all beliefs are as vital as others. In this model beliefs are still connected to one another, but we ought to hold more tightly to those in the core, and less tightly to those further from the centre.
Is this idea itself biblical? I think so. For example, 1 Corinthians 15:1-3a sates,
Now, brothers and sisters, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. 2 By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain. 3 For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance… (NIV)
The Apostle Paul goes on to describe “the gospel,” which serves as the ground of faith upon which Christians stand. Paul believed that some beliefs are foundational to the Christian faith, and this implies that others are not. Foundational beliefs are, then, those we can consider within the core of the concentric circle model. Not all beliefs can fit into the core, since not all serve as the ground of Christian faith.
Again, this doesn’t mean that other beliefs are not important, but not all are essential or primary in this way. It does mean, however, that we need to consciously commit ourselves to the idea that some convictions are second- or third-level convictions (or beyond). While valuable, non-core beliefs deserve to be held less tightly than others, and we need to be more cautious about allowing these to serve as criteria for Christian fellowship. A partial exception to this might be when it comes to denominational or church membership, but when it comes to accepting someone as a fellow Christian, the core beliefs are what ought to provide the criteria, and not those outside the core.
How the Concentric Circles Model Affects Us
Practically, what’s the benefit of the concentric circles model?
Personally, it helps us be less anxious when we feel less than certain about one of our beliefs, especially the non-core ones. We can incorporate questions and doubts into the overall process of maturing in our life of faith. We’ll be able to experience correction and modification of our beliefs, and ideally be open to pursuing truth wherever it might be found in God’s creation.
Socially, this model makes it easier to make room for others with different opinions. They will no longer be viewed as spiritually inferior or as a threat to the faith fortress. Instead, there will be an appreciation of diversity within Christ’s body in both beliefs and practices. And this should overall contribute to a healthier, stronger missional environment, since we will be less concerned with defending the fort, and more concerned with outreach.
The Spider’s Web: Supplementing the Concentric Circles
Now, it’s one thing to rationally adopt the concentric circles beliefs model, but quite another to live it.
John Stackhouse supplements our discussion here by likening the way we hold our beliefs to a spider’s web (I think it was here that I heard him mention this). Any touch on one strand of the spider’s web reverberates through all the others, signalling the spider that it may be lunchtime or that an enemy is near. For us (non-spiders), when a question, doubt, or unfamiliar idea begins to tug at a strand even at the peripherals of our belief web, it vibrates to the core of our psychological and spiritual being. Even if we have rationally determined that a particular doctrinal belief we hold is non-core (say, whether biological evolution is involved in God’s creation process or not), when a challenge to that belief is presented, it may very well feel like our core beliefs are being compromised.
The spider’s web analogy should encourage patience with ourselves and others as we move from a house of cards model to a concentric circle model. We may rationally decide the latter model is the better option, but it will take our brains a while to catch up emotionally. It will be a slow learning process, so be ok with that. I think God is patient with us in the process too.
What’s in the Core?
All of this, of course, raises the question of what exactly should fit into the core of our Christian beliefs. And this is probably another area where Christians will disagree! But I don’t think we are left without wisdom in this regard.
What’s in the core?
Boyd proposes that any belief that is not directly necessary for linking one into relationship with Jesus should be considered peripheral to the core. This is good and helpful, but I’d like to propose another way of identifying what’s core. For me, what belongs to the core of Christian beliefs are those without which there would be no faith to talk about.
What would those beliefs be? I think that those outlined in 1 Cor. 15 are a good start (you can find this chapter here). There Paul states that the gospel, on which believers take their stand, is the story of God’s work in and through Jesus, through whom all things will be made right. This includes, then, the following beliefs:
The triune God exists and is working salvifically in the world he created
The Bible occupies a privileged role through which God reveals his salvation plan through Jesus
Jesus is the incarnate God-man who lived, was crucified and resurrected
Jesus ascended and poured out the Spirit at Pentecost shaping church life
Jesus will return and reconcile all things to the Father forever
A similar content is found in the Apostles’ Creed. That’s what’s core to the Christian faith, since without it, there is no Christian faith to talk about. This is not a story primarily about me or us, but the story of Father, Son, and Spirit, who wants to include us in the divine story.
What would fall outside the core? A whole lot. In my view this would include matters such as how God created the universe and humans and when, whether Jesus returns in two stages or one, whether God meticulously governs the universe or allows a measure of libertarian freedom to humans and other spiritual agents, whether tithing is necessary or just a helpful spiritual practice, and so forth. Such would not be core to Christian faith, but again this does not mean that these are not important—I tend to think some of these issues are very significant for how we live out Christian life. So some of the above would be closer to the core for me, but not in the core. This also doesn’t mean that opinions on these issues are all of equal value. Some may have more biblical and theological support, and so be truer than others. It’s just that they are not core to Christian faith.
Finally, it also needs to be acknowledged that whether a non-core doctrine is still retained as a denominational credential or church membership requirement is a different matter. Denominations need to be practically allowed space to define who will be allowed in their leadership or membership, and so even secondary and tertiary beliefs may be identified as “essential,” not for being a Christian, but for holding association within a formal institution. My only caution in this regard is that denominations should probably add as few non-core doctrines as possible to their membership essentials (just like the church did in Acts 15). This will help the denomination avoid ghettoizing itself, and open it to the potential creativity and ideas of those who may have different views, backgrounds, and experiences than those traditionally embedded in the formal organization. As a Pentecostal, I happen to think that Acts 2 and 15 encourages holding less tightly to non-core matters of doctrine and community ethics for the sake of mission, and including all sorts of others so we can better bear witness to Jesus. But that’s all I’ll say about that here.
My hope for this four-part series has been that it would provide a way of navigating through doctrinal uncertainty and change. If it has helped you or if you have further questions or thoughts, please let me know by commenting below (or by sending an email). Thanks for reading!
Reflection
Have you been holding your beliefs in more of a house of cards or concentric circles model? How has this psychologically affected the way you’ve lived out your faith?
What theological truths would you place in the core, and which ones would you place outside of the core? Why? What non-core beliefs are closer to the centre for you, and why? How do you determine what belongs in the core?
Peter Neumann is available to speak at your church or other gathering about this and other theological and topics, including: emerging adults and faith, salvation, the Holy Spirit and Pentecostalism, and other questions about the Christian faith. Peter can be contacted at peter.neumann@mcs.edu.
I’ve been arguing that we sing too much about ourselves in worship and not enough about God. Worship, instead, needs to be viewed as formational and as such should be more thoughtful and in general be structured around the story of God.
But a possible objection here might be that this approach sounds overly cerebral or maybe even too pragmatic. Isn’t an approach that makes worship serve the goal of Christian formation (discipleship) simply making worship a means to an end? And how would this possibly fit into a Pentecostal approach to worship?
Well, what is a Pentecostal approach to worship? Pentecostals have always had a subjective, experiential leaning in their spirituality and worship. From early on (although not so much lately) Pentecostals emphasized personal testimonies as a means by which to pass on their faith. Do we need to give up this rather subjective component of worship? I don’t think so.
Jean-Jacques Suurmond in Word and Spirit at Play, argued that Pentecostals (and charismatics) approach worship as “play.” Worship is not a means to an end, but an encounter with God. But as “play” (or a game) it is built around both rules and structure (Word) and spontaneity (Spirit). Pentecostals have emphasized the spontaneous aspect of worship, but their worship has never really been “unstructured.” (See Daniel Albrecht’s Rites in the Spirit on this.) For Pentecostal worship to work, it always had to have had a basic framework in which the spontaneous elements were able to be exercised. I’m suggesting that singing about God can help provide the structure in which the subjective aspects of worship (and song) can then be celebrated.
So, I am calling Pentecostals to be more intentional about making worship be more God-centred so that we can be formed into better disciples. I’m not calling for a removal of the holistic, physical, celebratory approach that characterizes Pentecostal worship. And certainly worship must be viewed as being an encounter with God. But for worship to be encounter with God it must be about God.
Let’s put it this way. The call here is not to move from non-formational worship to formational worship. All worship is already formational. The songs we sing, the prayers we pray, spontaneous or not, already are forming us in some way. Worship cannot help but be formational to some extent. And so, the call here is simply to recognize it as such. Once we acknowledge this, we will hopefully take more care to make sure it is helping to form us to be what we think it is that Jesus wants us to be/come. And I don’t think this can happen with the current glut of subjective-focussed songs.
One more implication. If what I’m saying is right, I think this will have some practical repercussions not only for what we sing, but also concerning who we place in charge of leading our congregations in worship and singing. If worship is about encounter with God that forms us into the people God desires us to be, and this is to be shaped by a focus on God’s story, then those who lead us must be people familiar with God’s story in a deep and profound way. Further, those who lead worship must know how to lead people into worship that has God as the subject matter.
Worship is such an important component in Christian formation that musical giftings just might not be the first quality that is needed in a worship leader. Worship leaders first of all need to have a good grasp on Scripture and the Christian tradition. Musical abilities are important, to be sure. But the task of leading people into God-centred worship entails not primarily musical skills, but theological and pastoral skills. So, all worship leaders must continually be growing in their knowledge of the story of God and how to translate this into meaningful words and actions for the people of God with the dual goals of encounter with God and Christian formation always in view.
Let’s move toward making God, not ourselves, the centre—the subject matter—of our worship.
Admittedly, more than a little time has passed since my last blog.
But let’s think of this blog hiatus not so much as a matter of my being negligent, but more so of a long dramatic pause, in which anticipation has been building. Sort of like the year-long interlude between installments of The Hobbit or Hunger Game movies.
This interruption raises some issues of continuity, of course, particularly because this instalment is a second part of a previous blog on worship. So it might be worth re-reading the first part. But without further ado, let’s get to it.
My contention to this point is that in Pentecostal (and broader popular evangelical) worship the subjective dimensions have been emphasized to the detriment of the objective. I’ve demonstrated what I mean by the “subjective” in my previous blog, namely having ourselves (humans) as the subject matter of our songs and prayers. Now I need to explain what I mean by “objective” and why it’s so crucial. Both aspects are necessary for properly formational worship, of course, but I think the objective dimension deserves priority.
By the objective dimension I am referring to God’s story being the focus, the subject matter, of our songs. This is the story we find in the Bible, and the story into which we find ourselves invited.
Subjectively-oriented worship songs highlight our personal relationship with God, through Christ by the Spirit, as an element of being included in God’s story. But this subjective dimension needs to be framed by God’s story lest we get the impression that all that matters is my personal relationship with God (and, more narrowly, the state of my internal psychological dispositions in that relationship). God’s story, the objective dimension of worship, is what gives meaning to the subjective dimension.
A focus on the objective dimension of worship means giving ample attention to God and his story. God’s story is found in Scripture. The Bible tells his story—his desires for humanity and creation, his plan, through Jesus, to redeem what has been broken and lost. The Bible does not simply make abstract statements about God (e.g., God is love), but places these in the context of a story that demonstrates the actions of God as, say, loving. What this means is that we don’t really know God unless we know his story. His story reveals his identity. Abstract concepts do not.
This implies that it is necessary but not sufficient simply to have the name “God,” “Father,” “Jesus,” or “Holy Spirit” in our songs. The subject matter of what we sing must not simply make offhand reference the proper names of God, but must actually revolve around God and his story. So, we need to ask ourselves about the subject matter of our songs. Is the song primarily about us or about God and his story? If the songs we sing in worship do not actually reiterate the story of God, then those singing will simply provide the content (from our imaginations) of what these names, or other abstract concepts, mean.
(So, it might not be a bad exercise to do a longer-term review of the songs regularly sung in our churches. In the past three months what has been the primary subject matter of our songs? God and his story, or us?)
The above may seem to be a fairly abstract way of talking about worship. But here’s what it practically implies for what we do when we gather together. In large part corporate worship is to be a reiteration or re-telling of the story of this God and his actions in history, with special attention given to the story of Jesus, through whom God’s redemptive plan is worked out. It is this that actually shapes the people of God to be what God wants them to be.
Assumed in what I’m saying here is a philosophical commitment that needs to be made explicit: I believe that worship needs to serve the ultimate purposes of discipleship and Christian formation. Worship ultimately serves discipleship. So, if worship is deficient, so too will be the discipleship of those regularly participating in that worship.
Here I’m not saying anything new. The church has always said that the “rule of prayer is the rule of faith.” In other words, the way we worship is what we believe; or, the way we worship shapes what we believe and who we are. But this means our worship needs to be theologically thoughtful and practically intentional—far more so than it often is. A couple good resources on this are the late Robert Webber’s, Ancient-Future Worship, and from a more pentecostal angle (note the small “p”), Glenn Packiam’s Re-Forming Worship.
Worship, then, is to serve to regularly retell and even re-enact the story of God, so that we are again and again (and again) reminded of the God with whom we have to do. Only in this way will our individual lives as followers of Jesus be properly given context. We will be drawn into a story that is much bigger than our own lives, and a story that in fact gives our lives meaning. In short, worship will help form us into the people—corporately and individually—that God intends us to be.
And this can only happen if the primary subject matter of our worship is God.
This view might well raise some objections and questions—particularly from Pentecostals, who might object that this view sounds too cerebral. I promise that’s not what I’m suggesting. But we will need to wait to address such concerns until the next installment, which I promise (pinky-swear) will not be long in coming.
Peter D. Neumann 