Ministry Training

By Tim Sigler. Reposted, with permission, from Voice. Read Part 1.

The Hardworking Farmer (2:6)

Proverbs is replete with caution against laziness. Failing to plow in the right season means no food at harvest (Pr 20:4). But Paul notes the appropriateness that “the hard-working farmer…ought to have the first share of the crops” (2Ti 2:6). Unlike the soldier who may receive honor or the athlete who may receive a prize, the farmer’s reward is food—a share in the harvest. Köstenberger notes, “Even in this life Christian workers such as Timothy are entitled to be paid for their work (see on 1Ti 5:17–18).”³ The minister, like a hardworking farmer, is to be faithful (as opposed to those who defect and desert, 1:15), and it ought to be the case that he will be well compensated eventually.

Köstenberger continues,

This section is better understood when placed within the larger biblical-theological purview of the letter. It is precisely because the end times are upon Timothy and the church that he must be strong in the grace of Christ Jesus (v. 1); that he must find faithful men to perpetuate the message (v. 2), and that qualities such as single-mindedness (v. 4), integrity (v. 5), and hard work (v. 6) are of supreme importance.⁴

By Tim Sigler. Reposted, with permission, from Voice.

The mandate of training up men for service to the church is straightforward and clear—and the need is always great! In his second letter to Timothy, Paul entrusts the following charge to his son in the faith:

You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus, and what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also. Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him. An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops. Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything. (2Ti 2:1–7)

“You could go to seminary!”

I will never forget those words from my wife Lynnette—and she won’t either.

They were uttered as we were eating lunch one day in the spring of 1994, watching The Coral Ridge Hour from Dr. D. James Kennedy and Coral Ridge Ministries. The segment at the end of that particular episode highlighted the new Knox Theological Seminary, which Dr. Kennedy had begun and was promoting to his national television audience.

I was ending the second year of my first pastorate, in a small church in a small town in northwest Illinois, and had completed two graduate classes during that school year.

Lynnette’s words shocked me—and, I think, her as well. They also changed our lives forever.

At that moment, I knew I wanted to, and needed to, go to seminary, and began to look at the possibilities. These were the days before the Internet—the “information superhighway” which, we were told, would change our lives, as well. We did not even own a computer. Nor did we have the money or means to take cross-country trips to visit the schools of our dreams.

However, I did know that I did not want to move to a big city. I also knew that I did not want to simply follow my college classmates and friends to the same seminaries they were attending. I was willing to break new ground—and I wanted at least a slightly different perspective than I had received in college.  

By Brad Brandt

Thirty-three years ago, the Lord privileged me to become the pastor of Wheelersburg Baptist Church, in Appalachian southern Ohio, where I presently serve. At the time, the church was 109 years old. I was 26 and had just finished four years of Bible college and another four years of seminary. I believed the Bible was the inerrant, infallible, trustworthy Word of God. I was committed to preaching it, making disciples by it, and equipping this precious congregation to live by it.

Then it started. People began opening up to me, saying things like, “Pastor, we’re having marriage problems.” And “Pastor, I’ve been told I’m bipolar.” And “Pastor, they say our child has ADHD, and we’re overwhelmed.” Then came the question, “Pastor, can you help us?”

I responded by listening, praying with them, expressing my concern and support, reading a Scripture or two, but that was about it. I sensed they needed more, but I didn’t know how to provide it.

Consequently, I saw a couple of things happen. First, some of the strugglers went outside the church for help. Unfortunately, though well-meaning I’m sure, this “professional” help typically didn’t increase the hurting person’s confidence in Christ, His Word, and His church. In fact, at times it undermined this confidence. A second outcome I observed was that some hurting people continued to limp along in isolation, receiving little or no help, convinced that no help was available.