“Preach the gospel, die, and be forgotten.” You may have heard this quote by Nikolaus Ludwig, Count von Zinzendorf. You may have found it ironic that such a quote carries attribution. At times, this quote has been a great encouragement to me. At other times, I am not sure if it holds true.
You probably haven’t heard of me. I don’t pastor a sizeable church. You won’t hear my sermons on the radio. I haven’t written a best-seller. The faithful obscurity described by Nikolaus is an encouraging one in that it orients my life to the service of Christ and his kingdom rather than my name and reputation. But the call to forgetfulness seems to be at odds with the picture of gospel faithfulness we see in scripture. An entire chapter in the book of Hebrews is devoted to celebrating the faith of those who had come before us. Their lives and obedience stand as testimonies of God’s work. Their memory has the ability to preach the gospel still.
Abel and Noah, Sarah and Rahab, all members of the aptly named Hall of Faith. Hebrews 11 offers a survey of the men and women who would figuratively adorn the walls of Israel’s childhood bedrooms, as posters of faith—flawed but faithful instruments of God’s will. Among the familiar names and stories that are rightly celebrated, there is another group. This group is comprised of those who we might call “faithful others.” Note the author’s summary starting in verse 32:
And what more shall I say? For time will fail me if I tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets, who by faith conquered kingdoms, performed acts of righteousness, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, from weakness were made strong, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received back their dead by resurrection; and others were tortured, not accepting their release, so that they might obtain a better resurrection; and others experienced mockings and scourgings, yes, also chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were tempted, they were put to death with the sword; they went about in sheepskins, in goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated (men of whom the world was not worthy), wandering in deserts and mountains and caves and holes in the ground. (Hebrews 11:32-38, emphasis mine).
Beyond the Samsons and Davids, these faithful others conquered kingdoms and quenched fires, yes. But just as they escaped the sword, many others fell by it. Some were stoned. Others were beaten. Such is faithfulness.
In one sense I am grateful that my lows in pastoral ministry have never meant that I have been thrown into a well or sawn in two. But I also can’t help to compare my ministry to the ministries of others around me. I know men and women who, in their service of Christ, can identify more easily with Moses than they can with Jeremiah. I praise God for them, but I cannot relate to them. Instead, my life has instead been shaped by faithful others, men and women the world neither knows nor of whom it is worthy. I often wonder if those who will sit nearest Christ at the wedding feast would have been widely known here.
I count myself among those others of the faith, and I pray that I will be found faithful. It is a great solace to me that my faithfulness will not be measured by the number of people who come to hear me preach, but that I cling to Christ in my preaching. Your faithfulness is not determined by the efficacy of your work, but by the efficacy of Christ’s. To be sure, we ought to do everything with excellence as unto the Lord, and not to men. And that excellence may shut lions’ mouths, but it also might mean being fed into one.
Ministry can often feel like both. The first man I baptized in our church plant took his own life just a few short months later. I have seen people profess faith in Christ and I have seen people spew hate in his name. I have had church partners cut ties without warning or reason. I have been hurt in ways I did not know I could feel. I have seen God provide in ways I did not think possible. I am grateful to God even on the darkest days. To be fair, I can seem overly optimistic. I see the proverbial glass as half-full. But any glass is completely full if it has been filled to the degree which God intended it.
In between heroes of the faith and faithful others there is a tension. God determines which vessels carry greater signs of beauty and apparent value, but all vessels work to faithfully bear the filling that God has given them. 2020 in many ways feels like a year for the faithful others. The American church knows very little of the persecution seen in the New Testament and in many places around the world. A pandemic has a way of hemming us in with the suffering around us. Yet in Christ we can count it as joy to suffer these trials. We can give thanks in everything, trusting that whatever circumstance befalls us to be God’s will.
I am grateful that God knows my name. I am grateful that he knows yours. In the end, he will determine who else knows either. Until then, let us preach the gospel, live, and be faithful.
This resource is part of the series In All Circumstances – A Theology of Gratitude. Click Here to explore more resources from this series.
Paul Morrison serves as lead pastor at Grantwood Community Church in suburban Cleveland, OH. He is also a co-founder and director of the Ohio Theological Institute. Paul holds a PhD in Christian Ethics from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and is a member of the St. Peter Fellowship of the Center for Pastor Theologians.
