This sort of formation isn’t limited to gender studies or so-called “woke” ideologies. Instead, it is woven into more “innocent” societal ideals. For instance, consider the following passage:
“Men and women are biological facts. Ladies and gentlemen—citizens—are social artifacts, works of political art. They carry the culture that is sustained by wise laws and traditions of civility. At the end of the day, we are right to judge society by the character of the people it produces. That is why statecraft is, inevitably, soulcraft” (George Will, The Pursuit of Happiness and Other Sobering Thoughts).
Will begins by distinguishing the sexes (male and female) before moving to the culturally shaped categories of ladies and gentlemen (roughly a subset of gender). This latter category, we might say, emerges from the discipleship (soulcraft) of society (statecraft). Though Christians may not see the need to push against “wise laws and traditions of civility” in the same way that we might push against radical notions of masculinity and femininity, we should recognize that any cultural notion needs to be subjected to the authority of God’s word. Respecting the norms of a culture as a witness to Christ within that culture (cf. 1 Pet 2:12) is quite different than being formed by them (Rom 12:2). Will’s “ladies and gentlemen” are culturally constructed and, as such, do not recognize Christ’s authority. They may be good to a certain degree, but because they do not emerge from Christian discipleship, they are rooted in an incomplete, misdirected understanding of reality incapable of finding “the way” that is Christ.
The Necessity of Discipleship
In Titus, Paul roots the various instructions he has given in 2:1-10 in God’s grace and the salvation it brings for all people (2:11). He goes on to suggest that this grace trains us “to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age” as we look ahead to the coming of Jesus “who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works” (2:12-14). In this brief section, Paul emphasizes the sort of lives those who have received God’s grace are to live. He also notes that this grace trains us to live that sort of life.
The implication, of course, is that without the grace of God, we will not receive the training that will allow us to live under Christ’s authority in the present world. We will be, for all intents and purposes, the world’s disciples trained in the world’s ways. We are going to be trained to navigate the world in one way or another. Christian discipleship is necessary, in part, because apart from it, a vacuum is created that the world’s discipleship will fill. We will either be slaves to sin or slaves to righteousness (Rom 6:16).
For Christians, discipleship is a commitment. Discipleship isn’t something we opt into after reaping the benefits of salvation. It is, in a sense, part of our salvation—our opportunity to live unshackled from sin. In our baptism into Christ, we identify with Christ in his death and burial “in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:4). While it is not uncommon to hear people claim that baptism symbolizes burial and resurrection, I would argue that, based on Romans 6:4, baptism symbolizes burial and death—it is an ordeal sign (see Meredith Kline, “Oath and Ordeal Signs—I” and “Oath and Ordeal Signs—II”). The resurrection is both symbolic and referential. The referential aspect involves being united with Christ in a bodily “resurrection like his” (Rom 6:5). The symbolic aspect involves the opportunity we have in Christ to “walk in newness of life” (6:4).
The symbolic aspect of being raised with Christ involves discipleship. As we learn to observe all Christ commanded, we live an alternative lifestyle only made possible through our union with the one to whom all authority on heaven and earth has been given (Matt 28:18-20). The way of life we exhibit having proclaimed, “Jesus is Lord,” reveals something about our faith (cf. Jam 2:14-26). Discipleship, then, becomes an intrinsic part of the Christian life—of living out our commitment to follow Jesus, “the way, the truth, and the life” (Jn 14:6).
Discipleship: Commonality and Difference within the Body of Christ
Discipleship is the way all those united to Christ by faith learn to live under the authority of Christ (Matt 28:16-20) as unique members (i.e., individuals) inextricably bound together as one body (Rom 12:3-8; 1 Cor. 12:12-27). Because we are all learning to live under the authority of Christ, we should expect some continuity or commonality regardless of our uniqueness and individuality. Paul’s instruction to the Corinthians points to this dynamic. First, he highlights the differences within the community at Corinth asking, “Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret?” (12:29-30). The answer to each of these rhetorical questions is, of course, “no.” There is differentiation within the community of faith.
Yet, this differentiation does not mean there is no commonality. The contrastive conjunction “but” in v. 31 sets the stage for Paul to describe something that all Christians should pursue—a characteristic that every Christian should desire to exhibit: love (1 Cor 13:1-13). The differences in the Corinthian community and the church more generally will create tensions without a common love. Love, however, allows a differentiated community to tame the attitudes that would breed contempt, arrogance, self-serving power plays, exasperation and unrest, scheming, falsehood, etc (13:4-7). In discipleship, then, we are not simply learning to live “morally”—thought living morally is certainly important—but to live together contributing to the whole and depending on the other members of Christ’s body.
Discipleship: Constraints and Alternatives
Jesus’s command to “Go and make disciples of all nations” (Matt 28:19) is the logical consequence (“therefore”) of the all-encompassing authority Jesus has been given (28:18). Whatever else making disciples entails, it requires an exclusive commitment. We are not baptized in the name of anyone other than “the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (28:19). Paul highlights the significance of being baptized in the name of Christ when addressing the factions forming Corinth noting,
“What I mean is that each one of you says, ‘I follow Paul,’ or ‘I follow Apollos,’ or ‘I follow Cephas,’ or ‘I follow Christ.’ Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul? I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius, so that no one may say that you were baptized in my name” (1 Cor 1:12-15).
Being baptized in someone’s name seems to have been a way of designating one’s primary allegiance—who one was actually committing to follow. Yet, to be a disciple of Christ, one can only be baptize in the name of the father, son and spirit. It is Christ alone who is to be followed.
The second aspect of exclusivity in the Great Commission involves teaching and learning. Part of making disciples involves teaching those who have committed to follow Christ in baptism to “observe all that I [Christ] commanded you” (Matt 28:20). Clearly, Christ couldn’t have covered every single problem or situation that future generations of the church would face specifically. As we see in the rest of the New Testament, the apostles must extend and apply the teachings of Christ to specific situations within the Christian community with the help of the Holy Spirit so that the community of faith represents Christ faithfully. To put it differently, disciples of Christ learn to live on Christ’s terms, increasingly learning to emulate him and no other.
The Great Commission, then, alerts us to the constraints associated with our commitment to follow Christ. Following Christ is not something we do on our own terms, nor does following Christ allow for infinite possibilities. In following Christ, we set aside our own desires, interests and agendas—we give up certain possibilities—and take up the desires, interests, and agendas of Christ. He determines the course and character of our lives.
Discipleship provides us with constraints necessary for us to live out the alternative lifestyle of Jesus Christ. As Alicia Juarrero, an expert in complexity theory notes, “Constraints not only reduce the alternatives—they also create alternatives. Constraints, that is, can create properties which a component [or a person] exhibits in virtue of its embeddedness in a system, properties it would otherwise not have.” In terms of discipleship, then, we may say that the constraints of living under the authority of Christ not only eliminate certain ways of living but also—and more importantly—open up ways of living [“properties”] to which only those who are part of [“embeddedness”] the kingdom of God [“system”] have access.
When we think about discipleship, we are thinking about the process of adopting an alternative lifestyle, in part, by living within a set of constraints because we recognition Christ’s authority. Discipleship assumes our obligation to be loyal to our Lord (constraint). That loyalty—loving the Lord with all we are and have (Deut 6:5; Matt 22:37; Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27)—opens up new opportunities to participate with God in building the kingdom of God. The constraints of discipleship allow for the emergence of possibilities that would never be open to us otherwise because we have been united in Christ to “him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think” (Eph 3:20).
It is because we learn to live under the authority of Christ through discipleship—to live under certain constraints—that any notion of Christian womanhood and manhood must emerge from discipleship. Discipleship shapes our purpose in the world, as well as allowing us to recognize the obstacles and opportunities our environment affords us. If we attempt to extend the boundaries of discipleship to accommodate ideas about masculinity and femineity that are not subject to the constraints of discipleship, distortions and disruptions will emerge.
To underscore this idea, consider the following sentence:
The dog skafoafyeiom before salkdoafdu over the akdaofdasfu.
While identifiable as a sentence because it follows some of the rules (i.e. constraints) of the English language such as the use of a capital letter in the first word of the sentence and a period at the end, the nonsense “words” throughout make it impossible to make any real sense of what it being said. When the constraints of the English language are ignored, there is confusion and nonsense. Without the constraints of discipleship, we will produce similar gibberish in our conceptions of manhood and womanhood.
Members of One Body
Given the previous discussion of commonality and difference within the body of Christ above, it seems clear that we are not trying to reach some androgenous, undifferentiated state. At the same time, biological sex, ethnicity, heritage, and position within society have no bearing on our standing before Christ or with one another: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:27). This statement almost certainly needs to be read in the context of Paul’s confrontation with Peter in Galatians 2:11-14 in which Peter separates himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of “the circumcision party” (2:12). After articulating the doctrine of justification by faith and tracing the themes of faith and promise through the life of Abraham (2:15-22), Paul reminds the Galatians that they have been unified with Christ and, as such, must not dismiss, alienate, or degrade one another as if they were not “one in Christ Jesus” (3:28).
Though one’s sex, ethnicity, and position in society may not impact one’s standing in Christ, Paul is not collapsing the distinctions between these categories. Instead, he recognizes that the trappings of certain male roles—husband (Eph 5:25-33; Col 3:19; for more on the aspect of husband see the section titled “Men in Relation” here), father (Eph 6:4; Col 3:21), overseer (1 Tim 3:1-7)—are different than those of female roles—wife (Eph 5:22-24; Col 3:18), older woman (Tit 2:3-5), younger woman (Tit 2:6). We see similar, distinctive instruction given to slaves (Eph 6:5-6; Col 3:22; 1 Tim 6:1; Tit 2:9-10), masters (Eph 6:9; Col 4:1), Jews and Gentiles (Rom 14:1-15:13). What we see here is that the way we embody the world has different implications for the ways we operate within the world. As God’s people take up their various roles together, they seek to operate with one another from the perspective of their unity in Christ.
Our individuality—the way we embody the world—is, like discipleship, a constraint that reduces and creates alternatives. When we recognize that the way we embody the world is limited, it closes off our ability to live independent of God and presses us to live in dependence on him. Part of that dependence involves coordinating with and recognizing the value of other members of Christ’s body. We need to work together and appreciate the work of the rest of the body’s members.
In teaching about the body of Christ, Paul highlights the constraints associated with individual difference. The members of Christ’s body “do not all have the same function” (Rom 12:4; cf. 12:6). The members of Christ’s body are to recognize and embrace their connection to the body (1 Cor 12:14-20), as well as respecting the position of others (12:21-26). These passages do not suggest that each of us is so limited that we can only do one thing, but that “God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose” (12:18). So, as we interact as relatively limited members of Christ’s body, we are to be guided by love, which is not envious, boastful, arrogant rude, insistent on its own way, irritable, resentful, or pleased with wrongdoing (13:4-6). Instead, it celebrates truth (13:6), is patient and kind (13:4) and “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (13:7).
Love is crucial to the multi-membered body because it allows for a posture of coordination and appreciation instead of one that rejects, diminishes, and seeks to control. It is necessary because without it we will begin to advocate for ourselves and our values within the body of Christ—to create artificial divisions that align us less with Christ and more with Apollos, Cephas, or Paul (1 Cor 1:10-17).
If love, particularly as it is used in 1 Corinthians 13, is crucial to holding God’s people together despite their differences, how might it guide our thinking concerning notions of so-called masculinity? To answer this question, we will consider the following passage from Driscoll’s Act Like a Man where he paints a picture of how—in his estimation—the church was feminized during World War II. He notes:
“War took the young men out of the country and placed them under strong male leadership with brotherhood who had a battle. Meanwhile, back at home, who’s left in the Church? Women and children. We love women and children, and they also need to be in church, but the church no longer had strong young men. So then, the women in the church decide they’re going to run the church. All of a sudden, church starts to look like women decorated it. (As an aside, whoever decided mauve was the official color of Christian décor, we forgive you, but it’s hard.) Since there are few men in church during war, all the programming is for the women and children. So, they hire an older guy who isn’t off at war to be the pastor. He’s retired, and he’s kind of like a really kindhearted grandpa who’s going to love women and children. Next, they need to find a guy who will lead worship. This is where things get offensive. All the strong men are off at war, so they find a really nice guy who can lead worship. The least masculine guy is leading worship. I’m not criticizing; I’m just observing. In the Old Testament, the worship leader is a guy named David, a shepherd, which, in those days, was actually more like a cowboy with a gun than your typical mental picture of a docile man in a tunic. This guy isn’t like David. So, we have a nice older pastor who’s a grandpa and his confused grandson leading worship, and they emotionally connect with women and children. Then, the men return from war, and they show up in church. They think, ‘I’m not going to listen to that old man; I can’t relate to him. And I can’t sing like that guy. I can’t get in that octave unless I have an injury. I would need to not wear a cup to hockey night, and then I could sing like that guy.’ The men walk into what feels like a feminine environment; it sounds like a feminine environment, and it seems like it’s for women and children. The men of the Church left and never came back.”
First, I want to make clear that my comments below are not a reflection of those who serve in the military past, present or future. Instead, they are related to the “hypothetical” men Driscoll describes in the passage above. The goal is not to suggest that “strong men” have no place in the church but to highlight the difficulties associated with Driscoll’s approach to the question of masculinity more generally. It is rooted in stereotypes without adequate reflection on what it means to be a member of the body of Christ.
With that said, Driscoll tends to reinforce and celebrate stereotypically masculine characteristics while degrading stereotypically feminine characteristics. Going off to war is “manly” while remaining home from war is for the “older guy” who is really a “kindhearted grandpa” with little to no virility left. It is for the “nice…least masculine guy” whose participation as worship leader is “offensive.” When the “strong men” return from war, they can’t relate to the old preacher or sing soprano without suffering an injury to their privates—unless their “manhood” is injured (e.g., not wearing a cup while playing hockey), these deep-voiced, strong men will never sound like the “least masculine” worship leader.
This description, which I find difficult to believe to be accurate historically, diminishes those who stay behind. The old preacher has so lost touch with his masculinity that he is only suitable to teach the women and children. He can’t speak to the “strong men.” The worship leader’s gifts are belittled because they aren’t—like David—matched with the rugged work of a shepherd or cowboy. Though he claims not be “criticizing…just observing,” Driscoll’s not-so-subtle jabs make clear that he sees those who couldn’t go to war are lesser men than those who did.
By diminishing those who couldn’t go to war, Driscoll ends up creating a distorted image of the “strong men” who did go to war. In Driscoll’s tale the “strong men” seem more like petulant children than mature adults. Their church attendance is conditional on their own comfort. Because, according to Driscoll, they can’t endure the “feminine environment,” they opt to leave the church. To put it differently, they leave, not because the church is not ministering to those they are charged to love (i.e., their wives and children), but because “mauve” doesn’t suit their fancy. This description doesn’t, in my estimation, provide a picture of “strong men” but of men who have not love and, thus, become little more than “a noisy gong or a clanging symbol” (1 Cor 13:1).
Whatever being a man means, it can’t involve diminishing other believers. While I can appreciate the concern that many Christians express about men and their participation—or lack thereof—in the church, suggesting that the church needs to become a more masculine environment to attract men is empty language. For instance, are the stained glass windows of the Lutheran church I grew up in masculine or feminine? Is the Lutheran church attempting to feminize lent by using purple altar hangings during that season? Part of the challenge with the language of masculinity and femininity is its ambiguity. It simply isn’t clear when the church as a whole or even any given local congregation tipped from being masculine enough to keep men in the seats to so feminine that they opt out of their commitment to Christ and his body because they are uncomfortable.
The church can’t point men to some cultural vision of masculinity while at the same time expecting those men to be faithful followers of Christ. As some of the examples from Driscoll’s book illustrate, diminishing those who don’t embody a particular vision of masculinity is easy. It’s easy to call the worship leader who sings in falsetto the “least masculine guy” or to dismiss the kindly grandpa as out of touch. In doing so, however, those who embody some version of masculinity don’t end up acting like men, but like children. They aren’t mature because they aren’t aiming for maturity but masculinity. In the end, men are to live under the authority of Christ. As such, Christian manhood needs to emerge from discipleship. Starting anywhere else will point men in the wrong direction.
Photo Credit: ©Unsplash/Gift Habeshaw
