If you had asked me to speculate what Jesus meant by “Scripture cannot be broken”, my initial guess would be that Jesus is using the language of promises: Scripture can be thought of as a promise from God that cannot be broken. But that just goes to show how a translation of the Bible can cause you to read meanings into the text that are not present in the original language, since none of the commentators I consulted consider this a viable option (although apparently Jungkuntz argued that it meant the passage from Psalms that Jesus had just quoted must be fulfilled).

It seems this is a tricky phrase to translate, as the majority of versions simply leave it as “Scripture cannot be broken” without giving us any clues as to exactly what that means. However, there are some versions who attempt to interpret this tricky phrase for us. Here’s a summary of various interpretations:

NIV84, ESV, KJV, NASB, HCSB, JBP, NET: “Scripture cannot be broken”
NLT: “the Scriptures cannot be altered”
ISV: “Scripture cannot be disregarded”
GNT: “what the scripture says is true forever”
AMP:  “the Scripture cannot be set aside or cancelled or broken or annulled”
CEV: “You can’t argue with the Scriptures”
MSG: “Scripture doesn’t lie”
NIV2011: “Scripture cannot be set aside”
Tom Wright: “you can’t set the Bible aside”
Don Carson: “Scripture cannot be annulled or set aside or proved false”

The Greek word for “broken” is λυθῆναι, which actually crops up in several places in John’s writing, and is typically translated “break” or “destroy”. For example breaking the Sabbath (Jn 5:18), destroying the temple (Jn 2:19), breaking the law (Jn 7:23), destroying the devil’s work (1 Jn 3:8).

So Scripture is unbreakable, or “indestructible” even. Not in a physical sense – plenty of Bibles have been successfully destroyed by fire. But in the sense that Jesus uses in Matt 24:35 “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” The doctrine of the unbreakability of Scripture means that God’s words never lose their truth, relevance or power. We never move beyond Scripture, and we never argue with Scripture. Or as J C Ryle explains it:

“Wherever the Scripture speaks plainly on any subject, there can be no more question about it. The case is settled and decided. Every jot and tittle of Scripture is true, and must be received as conclusive.”

I’ve read right through the Bible in several different versions. As I child I used the Good News Bible (which I now read every night with my children), and the (sadly out of print) Revised Authorised Version which I did most of my Scripture memorisation in. In my teenage and university years I mainly used the New International Version (1984 edition). I spent a year using the New Living Translation, another using Today’s New International Version, and am currently reading the 2011 edition of the NIV. But my main Bible for the last 7 or 8 years has been the English Standard Version.

My feelings are that every Christian serious about studying the Scriptures would benefit from having at least three translations of the Bible, one from each of the three broad translation philosophies – literal, dynamic equivalence, and paraphrase. I won’t make this post ridiculously long by going into the pros and cons of each type, but I’ll briefly describe their benefits and mention my favourite version in the category.

1. Literal Translation

Literal translations attempt to provide one English word for each word in the original language. They try to keep the word order the same as much as is possible without producing nonsense. This can make for slightly awkward phrasing, but has the benefits of connecting you as closely as possible to the words and phrases used by the original authors. Where a term has special meaning (e.g. the way Paul uses “flesh”), it is up to you to learn what is meant by that. But the benefit is that you are not thrown off the scent by the translators attempt to explain it for you.

My choice of literal translation is the ESV. It’s not perfect, and I have written previously on this blog about some of my criticisms of it, as well as my disappointment that its supporters often seem to have an adversarial attitude towards other translations, but overall it is excellent, and I think special commendation should be given to Crossway for the way they have allowed electronic editions of the text to be available completely free of charge.

2. Dynamic Equivalence

Dynamic equivalence is what I would call the “normal” way of translating something into another language. You take it phrase by phrase and try to say the same thing that the original author was saying, but you say it in a way in which that idea would normally be communicated in the target language. This can mean some changes of idioms, or single words becoming phrases, but on the whole it still sticks closely to the sentence structure of the originals. This translation philosophy makes for good readability, while usually managing to avoid too many interpretive decisions being forced into the text.

The NIV stands out as a shining example of this translation technique. It became mired in controversy when the TNIV came out with its “brothers and sisters” leading some to see a hidden egalitarian agenda at play. I think that is a little unfair to the outstanding team of translators. The new 2011 version has retained gender neutral language, while making lots of improvements over the original NIV and TNIV, and I see no reason not to use it in preference to both. The 1984 NIV Study Bible was an outstanding resource, and I’m looking forward to getting hold of an updated version although from what I’ve heard, the notes haven’t been substantially revised.

I normally quote from the NIV when preaching, and it would be the version I would recommend to a new Christian.

3. Paraphrase

My final category is that of paraphrase. This philosophy gives a lot more freedom to the translators to rephrase things. They may even insert small phrases not present in the original if they think it would help the reader understand. It allows them to be creative so a pun in the original language might translated into different but equivalent pun in English.

These are often the work of a single author. For example Eugene Peterson’s The Message, or JB Phillips New Testament. More recently Tom Wright has created the Kingdom New Testament.

The big criticism of paraphrases is that they are most susceptible to importing the theology of the translator. So they have to be read with caution, and checked against other translations. But they can also do a brilliant job of shedding fresh light on familiar texts, and opening up some of the hard to understand parts of the Bible such as the Old Testament prophetic books.

For me, the New Living Translation is the best of the paraphrases. It is a mature translation, having undergone a thorough revision from the original Living Bible. And it is the work of a team of first-rate Bible scholars rather than just the work of one person which safeguards it from some of the eccentricities of other paraphrases (I confess to not being a big fan of the Message).

Anyway, that’s my three: ESV, NIV, NLT. What about you?

To answer the question “is the atonement limited”, requires us first to define what we mean by the atonement. Is it just shorthand for “Jesus’ death on the cross”? Does it include some, or all of the accomplishments of Jesus’ death? Did it actually procure my forgiveness, or did it just make forgiveness available to me?

Similarly the question is sometimes rephrased as “did Jesus die for everyone”? But what does it mean that Jesus died “for” a particular person? Did his death achieve their salvation? Or did it merely open up the possibility of their salvation?

My opinion on “limited atonement” is that it is a logical deduction based on two premises. First is particular election, where God specificially elects certain people to be saved. The second is penal substitution, where on the cross Jesus takes the punishment in the place of someone.

In a system of penal substitution, it is often argued that on the cross, Jesus was on the cross in my place and bearing my punishment. That is to say that God designed the cross with me personally in mind, and Jesus bore the penalty for the exact sins God foreknew that I would commit. The logic behind limited atonement thus argues that if Jesus has paid the specific penalty for me personally on the cross, then it would be unjust of God to require that penalty to be paid a second time. But that would mean that for those who are not saved in the end, their penalty could not have been paid on the cross. So we might say that though the death of Jesus would have been sufficient to cover the sins of the entire world (or a hundred worlds for that matter), it in actual fact was only a substitution for the sins of the elect.

Is that indeed the correct biblical understanding of the atonement? I think it has a lot to be said for it, although I am aware that there are alternative interpretations of the biblical data. It seems to rely very heavily on a debt metaphor in which some kind of exact “price” can be put on everyone’s sin and then the cross becomes the settlement of a debt of the exact total. I think the sin as debt metaphor is a Scriptural one, but it is possible that too much has been read into it.

As opponents of limited atonement often and correctly point out, the writers of Scripture are happy to speak of Jesus dying for the sins of the world, and taking away the sins of the world (e.g. 1 John 2:2; 2 Cor 5:14). So to say that Jesus didn’t die for all, strikes me as being in danger of flatly contradicting Scripture, and is something that those who accept “lmited atonement” should be careful to avoid.

Maybe Paul hints at a resolution to this debate in 1 Tim 4:10:

That is why we labour and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Saviour of all people, and especially of those who believe.

He’s saying there is one sense in which God is the Saviour of all people, but another sense in which he is the Saviour just of those who believe. In other words, it boils down to what exactly you mean by “Saviour” as to whether it is “limited” or not. So whenever someone asks me if I believe in “limited atonement” or not, I ask what they mean by atonement. And depending on their definition, I may say “yes” or “no”.

1 John 2:2

The Pursuit of God consists of 10 short chapters, making it very accessible even to those who are not big readers. The key idea is to challenge believers to ask whether we really hunger after God. He asks us how serious we are about wanting God, and whether we, like Abraham are willing to give up everything.

“The world is perishing for lack of the knowledge of God and the church is famished for want of his presence.”

He warns that it is possible to believe in God without knowing him in personal experience, and insists that we are able to experience his presence. God is of course present everywhere, but our problem is a lack of receptivity toward him.

There are chapters on what faith is, the importance of determining to exalt God, and how we can avoid a sacred-secular divide by honouring God in all things. Each chapter closes with an earnest prayer asking God to change us and meet with us.

There is much wise and insightful material in this short book, but its chief strength lies in its challenge to take seriously the pursuit of God. You might not need a lot of time to read it, but there is no point if you are not also willing to devote some time to self-examination and time alone with God in prayer.

So the suggestion that there might be yet another level of meaning to the books, seems at first to be completely unnecessary. And for that meaning to revolve around the seven planets of medieval cosmology seems quite frankly ridiculous. But that is exactly what Michael Ward claims to have found, and his evidence is compelling.

I first came across his theory in a documentary called The Narnia Code, which was shown on BBC. Then I was able to hear him in person at New Wine giving seminar that summarised his thesis. But it left me wanting to know more about the evidence linking each planet to its corresponding book, so I jumped at the chance to hear his argument in full.

He starts off by giving some important background on Lewis, such as the way he could sometimes be secretive and how he felt that this was important in literature. Lewis felt it important that a good story to have an “atmosphere” – something that didn’t need to be explained or pointed out, but was felt and enjoyed nonetheless by the reader.

He notes the fact that despite its tremendous success, the Narnia series has often been criticised for some odd and out of place elements in the story, that has led some literary critics to suggest that its composition was rushed.

Ward then moves to focus on Lewis’ fascination with the planets, and in particular, medieval cosmology and astrology. He wrote academically about it, he wrote poems about them, and he even incorporated them into other works of fiction, most notably his cosmic trilogy. Whilst he recognised this ancient cosmology to be scientifically untrue, he believed it to have great beauty and a lasting worth. He believed that the heavens declare the glory of God, but that science had made people think of a silent, empty “space”.

The next seven chapters deal one by one with the seven books of the Narnia series, and the planet Ward believes each is associated with. His method is first to look at where the planet in question appears in Lewis’ other writings. Here it will help massively if you have read the cosmic trilogy as much material is drawn from that series, but also Lewis’ poetry features regularly here. These give a feel for the particular characteristics, atmosphere, virtues or vices he felt were associated with each planet. Then Ward goes on to show how each planet asserts its “influence” over the story, by first examining the poiema (how the influence of that planet affects the atmosphere of the story) and then onto the logos (how the influence of that planet affects the message of the story). He also believes that Lewis has portrayed Aslan in ways that relate to the planet in question in each story.

I can only briefly summarise some of the points that strike me as interesting. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is associated with Jupiter (also known as Jove). The influence of this kingly, “jovial” planet is seen in many aspects of the story (and explains the somewhat incongruous appearance of Father Christmas). Ward shows that Lewis associated Jupiter with “winter past and guilt forgiven” – almost a plot summary of the story.

Prince Caspian is associated with Mars. Mars was the god of war, but his influence was neutral in Lewis’ mind – military force can be used in the cause of justice (chivalry) as well as for evil.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is associated with the Sun, or Sol as given away by its title. Both the sun and its associated metal gold are recurring themes throughout the story.

The Silver Chair also gives us a clue in its title, as the metal of the Moon (or Luna) is silver. The moon is associated with lunacy and doubt – clearly to be found in the plotline of the story.

The Horse and His Boy is linked to Mercury, perhaps the hardest of planets to define in terms of its influence. Mercury is “lord of language” and “patron of pilferers”, and the metal is known for the way it divides and reunites. Ward does a convincing job of showing how Lewis incorporates these ideas into the story, with lots of twins and pairs, and even an allusion to the doctrine of the Trinity.

The Magician’s Nephew then is connected with Venus. This is a potential problem for Lewis – how does he as a devout Christian write a children’s story around a goddess of sex? And can he portray Aslan in feminine form? Ward shows how Lewis incorporates themes of love, marriage and fertility into the story and explains why he thinks Lewis did not want to make Aslan a female character in this story.

The Last Battle finally is linked to Saturn. This is also a tricky one for Lewis as Saturn is associated with death and misfortune. And they certainly feature prominently in this story, which has often been criticised for killing off all its major characters. One interesting bit of evidence is that the character “Old Father Time” was in an early unpublished manuscript explicity named by Lewis as Saturn, but he later removed this rather overt clue.

After wading through this evidence, it is hard not to be convinced. Even if you are only persuaded by three or four of the seven, it is impossible to imagine Lewis only partially going through with such an ingenious scheme. Ward suggests that the Narnia series was a deliberate attempt by Lewis to put the argument he made in Miracles into “imaginative” form.

He devotes a chapter to asking some questions of his thesis. Why is the scheme not more perfect? Why did Lewis not reveal the secret? Is the secret best left undiscovered? He offers brief but interesting responses to these questions and potential objections. Finally he rounds the book off with the story of how he came to discover this secret of the Narnia series.

In summary I have to say this is a fascinating book for anyone who has read the Narnia series, and I find his argument convincing. It is not for the faint-hearted though. This was I believe a PhD thesis, and it reads like one. It is quite academic in places, and if the only writings of Lewis you are familiar with are the Narnia series, you may find yourself lost in places. Apparently he has written a more popular level version called the Narnia Code which would be more appropriate for some readers. He has a website dedicated to the book here.

This is a book about Jesus – a subject that is well deserving of our attention. The blurb and preface led me to expect that this would be a deconstruction of various popular misconceptions of Jesus such as “hippie Jesus, Grammy Award Jesus, Role Model Jesus, Buddy Jesus” etc. But his approach is instead to go to the Scriptures and highlight twelve aspects of who Jesus is.

Each chapter deals with a title or role of Jesus. For example, Jesus the Prophet, Jesus the Shepherd, Jesus the Sacrifice, Jesus the Lord. The book is theologically and biblically rich. With each topic he weaves in some helpful historical and Old Testament background information to help illuminate the already familiar stories of and teachings of Jesus from the gospels.

As might be expected from someone who blogs for the Gospel Coalition, he draws from the likes of John Piper, Tim Keller and Mark Driscoll. But he also brings in insights from NT Wright and Dallas Willard which brings a greater breadth to the overall message of the book.

His sense of humour is infused throughout the book, with plenty of quips and gags which give it a light-hearted feel. It made for an enjoyable read, although it felt a little incongruous in places as he juxtaposes a wise-crack with a profound thought.

This isn’t a book of radically new insights, but its chief value is in focusing us in on the person of Jesus, and allowing his own radical and challenging message and identity to be impressed on us again. It would be helpful for a Christian who finds the gospels to have become over-familiar and uninspiring to see Jesus from some fresh perspectives.

This book takes a broader perspective, and attempts to trace the Pentecostal and Charismatic movements right through to the present day. Obviously this is a huge task, but Lederle has managed to compress the story down very effectively to highlight the main characters, movements and theological ideas, and it makes for a fascinating read. Of particular interest is the way he seeks to link in the theological developments with the transition from modernity to post-modernity. He sees the initial opposition from cessationists as evidence of a modernist worldview infiltrating the church.

I already knew a bit about the Asuza street revival, but there is much in this book that was new to me. It is interesting to read his analysis of the effect of Pentecostalism on Roman Catholocism, Orthodoxy, along with other “communions”. Especially helpful is his concise explanations of the theology of different key groups such as the Wesleyan holiness movement, the oneness Pentecostals and the Latter Rain movement.

Following on from the roots of Pentecostalism, he moves onto the “second wave”, or denominational charismatic renewal. He includes a helpful analysis of the broad range of views on Spirit baptism, that departed from the initial Pentecostal positions.

Under the heading the “third wave”, he differs slightly from Wagner, and defines the third wave as independent charismatic churches. He considers several groupings, including “Restorationist”, “Dominion”, “Empowered Evangelicals” (e.g. Wimber), before finally moving on to “Word of Faith”.

This is where it gets interesting, since although Lederle has been very even-handed throughout, he does have an affinity with the Word of Faith movement, and was a lecturer for many years at Oral Roberts University. While he accepts the movement has come in for some deserved criticism, he feels it has now self-corrected its exesses, and identifies and defends four theological contributions the movement makes.

The latter part of the book explores the future of Spirit movements, including a review of various new papers published by young charismatic and pentecostal scholars, many from ORU. He also takes some time to explain his own unique take on Spirit baptism (a “dimension” with “events”), which I must confess to not fully understanding (probably need to re-read this a few times).

He concludes the book with the claim that he believes the Word of Faith churches will be at the forefront of the spread of the charismatic movement in the coming years, and interestingly, does not predict much success for the apostolic networks Peter Wagner has identified as being so significant (see my recent review of Dave Devenish’s book on apostles). I have no idea whether he is right, but I am sure he is correct when he identifies several countries in the global south that have been deeply influenced by Word of Faith theology.

He argues that the four Word of Faith disctinctives (1. the Believer’s Inheritance; 2. the Authority of the Believer; 3. Positive Confession; and 4. Prosperity), when articulated correctly, are all perfectly biblical ideas, and when properly understood are not the heresies they are often accused of being. And indeed, his carefully nuanced explanations of these four ideas are not as objectionable as the more bluntly stated versions I am more used to hearing.

In summary, I would say that the first half of this book is superb and will be enjoyed by anyone who has an interest in the history of the Pentecostal and charismatic movements. He has clearly done his research well and his analysis is very interesting. This part of the book would perhaps have benefitted from footnotes, but there is a good bibliography at the end.

The second part of the book caught me off guard. As someone from the more reformed end of the charismatic spectrum, I have grave concerns about the teaching I hear coming from the Word of Faith movement, and do not have a positive opinion about the “prosperity gospel”. It certainly is possible that some critics have misunderstood or misrepresened them – that has happened to almost every group within the church at some point. If Lederle is right about the future prominence of this movement, then it would perhaps benefit us to be more aware of what they are actually teaching, in order that we can make an accurate and biblical evaluation and critique of their contribution to Christian thought.

And one point that is often made by the skeptics is usually presented along the following lines: “Mark’s gospel, which is the earliest, doesn’t actually report the resurrection. The church added that bit on much later.” The implication is that honest Mark tells it like it is – Jesus died and that was that, but Luke and Matthew wanted a happy ending for their story, so they fabricated the story of the resurrection, and someone much later “fixed” Mark by adding a resurrection to that too.

To someone not familiar with the gospels this sounds like a major embarrassment for Christians – a coverup of epic proportions. But in fact, this accusation is at best a half-truth. Here are a few brief points in response, should you encounter this line of argument this Easter.

1. Gospel of Mark is not the earliest resurrection account anyway

Mark may indeed be the earliest gospel. It commonly gets dated by scholars around AD60-70, although there is no logical reason why it could not have been written much earlier. If however that date is correct, then 1 Cor 15:3-6 is in fact the earliest recorded account of the resurrection, dated in the mid 50s. And it is quite clear from reading the chapter that Paul is recounting an already well established tradition concerning Jesus’ resurrection appearances. If someone made up the resurrection stories, they must have done so long before Mark’s gospel was written.

2. Gospel of Mark is climaxing towards resurrection

Any suggestion that Mark didn’t know about the resurrection is quite frankly preposterous. The structure of the gospel is in fact built around a series of predictions Jesus makes about his impending death and resurrection:

And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again. (Mark 8:31 ESV)

and then…

They went on from there and passed through Galilee. And he did not want anyone to know, for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him. And when he is killed, after three days he will rise.” (Mark 9:30-31 ESV)

and in the next chapter:

saying, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles. And they will mock him and spit on him, and flog him and kill him. And after three days he will rise.” (Mark 10:33-34)

From these verses alone it should be obvious that Mark intends us to expect a resurrection at the end of his gospel. In the very first verse, Mark 1:1, he makes it clear that he thinks that Jesus is not merely a great man, but the “Christ” (Messiah) and the “son of God”. He calls his story a “gospel” – a message of good news, not a tragedy. So he is not going to end it with a defeated, discredited hero. Also, Mark has clearly not planned for a surprise ending. He lets us know up front to expect a resurrection. And in fact, that is precisely what we get…

3. The Gospel of Mark does report the resurrection

Even though the original ending (presuming there was one) does not report the resurrection appearances of Jesus to his disciples, it is not missing the resurrection itself. In fact, by the time the early manuscripts abruptly end at Mark 16:8, we have seen that the stone has been rolled away from the tomb (v4), the body is gone (v6), an angel announces that Jesus has risen from the dead (v6), and predicts that he will appear to his disciples in Galilee (v7).

And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back–it was very large. And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were alarmed. And he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.” (Mark 16:4-7 ESV)

So I find the suggestion that Mark’s gospel does not report the resurrection to be extremely disingenous when it comes from scholars who know full well that this section was part of the original gospel.

4. The original ending of Mark almost certainly included resurrection appearances

I recognise that there is scholarly debate as to whether Mark’s original gospel did in fact end so abruptly at 16:8. It may be that there was some reason it couldn’t be finished. I do not find that idea that it was a deliberate “cliff-hanger” ending to be convincing (there is some good material on this in James Edward’s Pillar Commentary on Mark, and R T France takes a similar stance in his New International Greek Testament commentary).

So if there was an original lost ending, possibly due to the final page coming loose from a codex, it almost certainly included the resurrection appearances in Galilee, as prophesied by the angel.

Summary

Whether or not you are a believer in the resurrection, you have to accept that Mark was, and that he wanted to bear witness to it in his gospel account. I may post another time on what we are to make of the ending of the gospel of Mark that we do have, as it raises other interesting questions, but I will leave it there as this post is long enough already. Have a happy Easter.

Piper contends that too many Christians live under the oppressive burden of expectations that they will pray, read the Bible, evangelise, serve the poor, and attend conferences. Although this may seem spiritual and holy, Piper reveals that such activities are actually a proud act of self-deification. Once you recognise that you are powerless to earn your salvation, why wear yourself out working for God when you could be soaking in a bubble-bath of blessing? What you need is to chill out and relax.

Piper has Jonathan Edwards to thank for the stunning revelation that God just wants us to be happy:

God is most glorified when we are most satisfied. And I am most satisfied when I have a bacon sandwich and a pint of beer. Also, money makes me happy, which is why I wrote my first book, “Desiring Gold”.

Piper explains how he has shaken off the shackles of legalistic righteousness that characterised his youth, where he would spend ages studying Greek and preparing sermons. Now he often devotes whole months at a time to expanding his shell collection, or beating his high score on Grand Theft Auto. He’s even arranged for Joyce Meyer to take over as the new pastor at Bethlehem Baptist Church, allowing him to focus exclusively on chillaxing.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who feels tired of having to doing stuff, or thinking about things. But don’t just take my word for it. Here’s some endorsements from leading luminaries of the evangelicalosphere:

Tim Challiesdotcom, blogaholic – “This is like the best book evar since Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I have repented of blogging and have devoted the rest of my life to watching episodes of Spongebob Squarepants.”

Mark Driscoll, Director of Pugilism at Mars Hill Seattle, “This book hit me like a roundhouse kick to the face. Maybe those lime green cardigan wearing, herbal tea drinkers were right all along.”

Don Carson, theological badass – “A magisterial treatment of Hebrews 4 that will change the face of scholarship for decades to come, if anyone can be bothered to do that stuff any more.”

Rob Bell, Reimagineer – “Finally, John Piper gets it. Everything is spiritual. Especially golf.”

One of the distinctives of the newfrontiers family of churches, of which I am a part, is the desire to “restore” the role of the apostle in today’s church. This makes some evangelicals very nervous. For example, John Stott regularly argued against the possibility of modern day apostles in the Bible Speaks Today series, despite presumably not having a problem with bishops and archbishops, given his Anglican connections.

This book can be broken into three main sections. The first attempts to define what is meant by a modern day apostle and make a biblical case for their validity. The second then lays out what the content of “apostolic foundations” should consist of. And the third then goes through several practical aspects of the ministry of an apostle.

He disarms much of the suspicion against modern day apostles by explaining that there are at least three “categories” of apostle in the New Testament, and that modern day apostles are not to be understood as functioning in the same way as the original twelve.

There are no new arguments presented, but the most compelling evidence is that of those in the NT outside the twelve designated as apostles, and Eph 4:11 which strongly implies that Christ gives more apostles after his ascension.

The function of apostles is summed up by the slightly cumbersome title of the book – “Fathering leaders, motivating mission”. That is to say that an apostle has a “fatherly” relationship with the leaders of local churches rather than simply being the next level of management up, or someone invited in as a consultant. But the apostle’s role goes further than just helping local church leaders – the apostle is actively involved in the establishment of new churches.

He devotes a few chapters to outlining key doctrines, such as the grace of God, which are vital for churches to fully understand, and explains how an apostle can help to lay those foundations.

The latter part of the book then deals with some of the practical aspects of apostolic ministry, such as how apostles can input into the appointment of elders, or the discipline of leaders, and how apostolic ministry is to be financed.

He has taken care to ensure that proper safeguards are in place, as another reason many get nervous about the idea of modern day apostles is the potential for overbearing control, or abuse of power. He explains the value of “apostolic teams”, where the apostle travels with other trusted companions for increased accountability.

One benefit of this book is that the author has plenty of experience of what he is talking about, providing fatherly oversight to leaders both in the UK and abroad. It means that there are plenty of helpful stories and examples that illustrate the points he is making. He has some particularly good insights into the issues of planting and overseeing churches in different cultural contexts.

The book ends with some answers to a few questions, and the one question I was wondering whether he had forgotten came right at the end. It is the issue of “apostolic succession”: what about well established churches, or when an apostle dies? Do how do you allocate a new apostle? Or do some churches no longer need to receive apostolic input? His answer is unfortunately a little brief, but he does make the point that leaders in every generation need to be fathered.

He gives an even-handed answer to the question of women apostles – noting the possibility that Junias may have been a female apostle, but indicating his preference for a complementarian position.

Overall I would say David Devenish has served us well by covering this topic so thoroughly and this is a book that deserves to be read by the wider evangelical world, particularly those involved in church planting movements.