Apostolic Leadership and the Spectre of Spiritual Abuse

Suspicions of Pioneer Authority as Hindrances to Pioneer Mission

AARON EDWARDS

Eucharisma 1, (Spring 2024), 23-40.

Introduction: Pioneer Apostles

The recovery of apostolic leadership is one of the most important, and controversial, marks of the charismatic restoration/renewal movement of the mid-late twentieth century. Whilst the recovery of the gift of tongues and prophecy might be most commonly associated with the movement, often it was the notion that God calls ‘apostles’ today which sparked significant criticism on the basis of the propensity to authoritarian abuse. 

Such apostles are called to offer the kind of prophetically pioneering and authoritative leadership which—whilst not claiming the same authority as New Testament apostles—seeks to mirror their practice to enable the planting of churches, the laying and maintaining of doctrinal foundations, and a spur to the cross-pollinating nature of itinerant kingdom mission.¹ 

Apostolic leadership is a wonderful and mysterious thing. As good Protestants, we may not believe in ‘apostolic succession’ the way Roman Catholics do, yet there is some correlation to what the Catholic doctrine seeks to capture, including the laying on of hands (cf. 2 Tim. 1:6). Apostles cannot be self-made or self-appointed. Yet neither can they be merely ‘trained’ for their role. 

Apostleship is a unique, pneumatological calling that often emerges organically through practice and experience. It is often confirmed prophetically, as the gift is recognised by the wider ekklesia in and through the apostle’s ministry. It is this pneumatological role that is so easily lost in an age of secularised management theory and even secular approaches to more horizontally collaborative and ‘democratic’ forms of leadership.²

In this article I will use ‘apostle’ in a deliberately broad sense to denote the calling of a pioneer foundation-laying missionary. Even those who do not call themselves ‘apostles’ may still, in fact, be apostles (gifted ‘apostolically’), sent in order to establish a new frontier of necessary ecclesial mission.³ 

This does not mean every person who sets up a new charity, church plant, or mission agency is automatically ‘an apostle’, but there are those whose calling leads to a wider impact upon the Church at large which usually results in some or all of the following resulting from the direct exercise of their gifting:

• necessary challenge to the existing ecclesial or missional establishment
• ‘front line’ vision for kingdom mission beyond a singular locale
• the planting, founding or supporting of new church congregations

Given that pioneering is essential to the apostolic charism, the apostle must be gifted with the authority to lead in ways that are likely to be misunderstood by those who cannot see what they see. The hinterland between such visionary authority and those expected to follow what they do not yet see, at least not with the same clarity, is the cause of much controversy, misunderstanding, even abuse. How do we know we can trust such an authority? To whom are they accountable, and how? 

My focus in this article is to address what I see as a key stumbling block to effective apostolic (or pioneer) leadership in the coming generation due to the developing spectre of spiritual abuse suspicion.⁴ Having introduced the function of apostolic ministry in a broad sense, I will then discuss 6 interrelated areas of focus which flow from this problem: 1. The disconnect between apostolic authority and spiritual abuse suspicion; 2. The necessity of the individual charism of an apostolic leader; 3. The way such leaders often respond to accusations against them, and what this may or may not reveal; 4. The role of conflict, courage, and pioneer decision-making which the individual charism brings, often inhibited by the fallout from abusive leadership elsewhere; 5. The subsequent effects of a loss of pioneer decision-making upon ongoing missional movement; 6. The need to keep such leaders accountable within genuine relationships (contrasted with bureaucratic forms of accountability often deemed essential in response to authority abuse, but which inevitably inhibit the exercise of pioneer leadership longer term.

Newfrontiers and Masculine Authority

There is an occasional illustrative focus throughout on the Reformed charismatic movement, Newfrontiers. This is not merely because it is the family of churches with which I am most personally familiar, but also because it has perhaps the greatest longevity of such movements within the UK Church. On the one hand, it has more clearly stood the test of time in ways other movements have not.⁵ In another sense, precisely because Newfrontiers has stood the relative test of time, its former emphases, practices, and alliances are now subject to the retrospective critiques which have become germane to our age amid the spectre of ‘spiritual abuse.’ 

This is not only because Newfrontiers has always held to a strong view of apostolic authority, but has seen several recent examples of leaders who, in one way or another, have been deposed of their positions of authority.⁶ They have also been cited in recent years as having platformed, and been significantly influenced by, prominent leaders accused of spiritual abuse, such as Mike Pilavachi, and Mark Driscoll. All of this poses  a particular challenge in how they respond to such critiques without losing their pioneering identity.⁷

Given the inescapably observable connection between pioneer apostolic leadership and traits which pertain to masculine authority (however broadly defined), while it will be impossible to explore the details in the scope of this article, it is not irrelevant that swathes of Newfrontiers churches in the western world have begun introducing regular women preachers and mixed-gender leadership teams in numerous contexts.⁸ This poses unique challenges to maintaining the pioneering emphasis that characterised its emergence and growth.

To ‘pioneer’ requires breaking new ground and building foundations in contexts of direct and sustained conflict and opposition, often requiring a forthright initiative-taking that willingly risks opposition for the sake of the principle or mission at stake. Caveats and exceptions aside, such pioneering tends to necessitate the kind of combative posture germane to masculine men, to persevere despite opposition, and to take risks that may inhibit collaborative social relationships.⁹

It is not surprising, then, that in the founding years of Newfrontiers, Terry Virgo saw the recovery of masculinity as bound up within the very project of ecclesial restoration, encouraging the Church to move from a posture of doubtful irrelevance to faith-filled assurance. Of one early charismatic meeting he attended, Virgo commented approvingly: ‘there was a shout in the camp, and a manly vitality about the atmosphere.’¹⁰ It is a sign of the incredulity towards ostensibly masculine leadership in our times today, that one’s first thought upon hearing this today is more likely to be: ‘But what about womanly vitality?’¹¹

It is also clear that masculine vitality was something to be not simply admired but cultivated. Virgo himself saw raising men from apathy to action as key:

I was determined to overcome their passivity and bring more men through and felt God had spoken to me from the illustration of eagles pushing their young out of the nest in order to teach them to fly.¹² 

Again, one cannot help but wonder what questions such sentiments might raise within our abuse-alert ecclesial culture today: ‘What if such men did not want to be “brought through”? What if they did not want to be “pushed out of the nest”? What if they just saw themselves as different and less traditionally “masculine”? What if they did not believe “God has spoken to Terry”? And who made Terry the divinely authorised “super-eagle” who gets to push men around and make them different to who they currently are?’¹³ This intensity of awareness for Foucauldian power dynamics is common in an age ever more anxious about the permissible uses of masculine authority in particular.¹⁴

Coupled with the aforementioned incursions into formerly male-only leadership teams, and the de-masculinisation of leadership expectations with the introduction of women to such positions, however subtly introduced, such cynicism drastically inhibits the exercise of masculine authority in ways that directly impair the exercise of the apostolic charism.¹⁵

To challenge such cynicism in our contemporary ecclesial climate is not to support the harbouring of genuine power abuse; it is simply to challenge that which would prevent further abuses by denying the virtuous growth of the genuinely faithful leader, called to lead with the kind of decisive and courageous authority that might even befit the description: ‘manly vitality.’

1. Authoritative Leaders and Spiritual Abuse

Whilst Peter calls leaders to speak ‘as those uttering oracles of God’ (1Pet. 4:11), he also cautions against prideful, domineering leadership (1Pet. 5:3-5). Arguing for the importance of masculine authority does not preclude challenging the wolves amidst the sheep (cf. Acts 20:29-30). Whilst such overt dangers remain, a more subtle danger arises when the fear of authority abuse itself inhibits authoritative (male) leaders from leading like authoritative (male) leaders precisely for the sake of the sheep. This includes the need to guard against the kind of doctrinal infection that might cause longer term pastoral sickness, akin to what Joe Rigney has recently called ‘emotional sabotage’, downstream from what Edwin Friedman called the ‘leadership-toxic climate’ of modern society, where those most anxious end up substantially shaping vision and practice at the expense of the clear and decisive exercise of authority.¹⁶

One way this can happen is in and through the highly emotive climate in which a leader seeking to show ‘nerve’ may be seen—to those who disagree—as perpetrating ‘spiritual abuse’. This is a relatively recent concept, and one which Evangelical Alliance UK has even recognised as ‘a seriously problematic term partly because of its own inherent ambiguity.’¹⁷ Marcus Honeysett, in his insightful book, Powerful Leaders? rightly exhibits caution about using the term ‘spiritual abuse’ because it may conflate a range of perceived behaviours, from relatively innocuous to extremely serious, under one umbrella.¹⁸ 

However, Honeysett does point to a kind of definition as ‘patterns of emotional or psychological control through coerced behaviours over a period of time in a religious context.’¹⁹ Such patterns include ‘religious justifications or defences for behaviour, (mis)use of religious texts, doctrines being used as tools for control, claims to divine inspiration, or misuse of God’s name and/or Word in the perpetration or justification of mistreatment.’²⁰ 

Nobody genuinely seeking Biblical foundations for leadership could condone such things, of course; but the issue is made more complex by the ambiguity of subjective offence. To one so inclined, a directly exhortative sermon on a challenging Biblical text could easily be read as the ‘(mis)use of religious texts…as tools for control’. Similarly, a prophetic insight shared in a team meeting (like Paul’s in Acts 16:9-10, leading to a significant change of plan), could easily be read as ‘claims to divine inspiration.’ 

Misinterpretation of leaders’ actions or motives is not a modern problem. Yet the difference now is the climate of communication in which these misinterpretations may occur, coupled with the societal accentuation of psycho-therapeutic approaches to personal, communal, and spiritual problems.²¹ It is now more possible than ever to find concerns with more forthright patterns of behaviour, decision-making, or speech, and to communicate these grievances widely. 

Whilst elements of this development should certainly be welcomed as giving formerly silenced victims a voice, adverse effects include the possibility of unjust charges or an uncharitable lens assumed against leaders due to emotive and subjective interpretations of ambiguous events. More germane to our purposes here, such a climate also impacts what a leader (or institution) may instinctively avoid doing in future, including what they may be more likely to de-emphasise for fear of reproach.

Spiritual abuse is simultaneously difficult to define and easy to apply to the exercise of courageous or forthright authority. Because of the proliferation of (usually male) leaders whose ministries have collapsed on account of allegations of bullying or generally authoritarian behaviour, it is often assumed that the problem is with the Church’s faulty expectations for such leaders. Michael Kruger’s Bully Pulpit: Confronting the Role of Spiritual Abuse in the Church (2022) exemplifies this view:

We want leaders who are powerful, decisive, inspiring, dynamic, and get things done… We would rather have a leader who will beat up our enemies than one who will tenderly care for the sheep. It’s not that different from the person who decides to buy a pit bull as a family pet. It may be cool to have a tough dog, and it may protect you from burglars. But eventually it may maul a member of your own family.²²

The problem is not Kruger’s critique of abusive behaviour, but the assumptions made of particular leaders, or the desire for particular kinds of leader. One of the most problematic elements here is that the behaviour assumed to be problematic is not only difficult to define but is often interpreted in and through an already-suspicious lens:

Whatever the hard numbers are for spiritual abuse, there is good reason to think that most instances still go unreported. After all, spiritual abuse does not involve demonstrable physical acts like other forms of abuse, making it difficult to define…Even the victims know it is tough to prove. That fact, along with the inevitable retaliation they might expect from the bully pastor, makes most people prefer silence over speaking up.²³

All this assumes that those reporting are indeed victims and that the pastor is indeed a ‘bully’. There is little that differentiates this from the old maxim: ‘there’s no smoke without fire’. 

It is clear that, although pioneer leaders may be relatively more likely to veer towards authoritarian behaviour, there is legitimate confusion over what precisely constitutes ‘spiritual abuse’ in practice. As such, assumptions are easily made which problematise the very possibility of a leader with specific, God-anointed authority. For charismatics who believe in the ‘gift’ of pioneer apostles called to lead with distinct authority, such assumptions risk undoing the purpose of the gift itself.

2. The Necessity of Individual Charism 

The role of the Spirit is bound up in the way a leader makes decisions in boldness beyond their natural capabilities.²⁴ Yet much of the received wisdom on leadership in our time tends to denigrate even the very idea of a gifted (we might say, ‘charismatised’) leader with an individual calling to the kind of pioneer leadership which necessarily draws people to follow him, and is proactive about doing so (cf. 2 Tim. 2:2). This is precisely where the aforementioned assumptions over motives come into play.

Diane Langberg pointed to problems not only in the leader but in the expectations of congregations who instinctively seek such leaders as self-reflective heroic idols: 

When a leader’s powerful presence coincides with a growing church, a global influence, an influential media presence, and a steady inflow of money, their followers believe that the leader is the one who has made it all happen. It follows that any attack on or criticism of that leader will not be believed or must be denied. A threat to the leader is a threat to all.²⁵

But again, is ‘charisma’ or ‘powerful presence’ thereby something that should be avoided? Not if we wish to see the ‘apostolic’ gift flourish.

The Church runs the risk of becoming inherently suspicious of ‘charisma’ itself, not only in its colloquial meaning (a persuasive or charming personality) but the pneumatological work within the individual leader which necessarily draws people towards them in order to draw them to follow Christ with greater faith, hope, and love.²⁶

Paul was confident enough in his Spirit-led anointing to call the Philippians to imitate him: ‘Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.’ (Phil. 3:17). He also warns of ‘enemies of the cross’ who are self-seeking, whose ‘god is their belly’ (3:19). Even to call out the counterfeits takes clear, confident, and decisive authority.

We are now far more likely to see notions of calling and charism as mere portals for exploitation by the charlatans whose ambition exceeds their character. Mark Sayers conflates this not merely with the leaders who fall, but with the very idea of ‘ambitious’ leadership itself:

Our understanding of leadership is markedly shaped by the myth of the hero, the idea that through sheer effort and determination we can reshape reality. The myth of the hero tells us that dynamic, charismatic, and glorious individuals can heal cultures through their personal guile, skill, and glory.²⁷

This is, of course, a caricature. Believing in the extraordinary gift of apostolic leadership need not necessitate a belief that such leaders can ‘heal cultures through their personal guile, skill, and glory.’ Nor is gravitation to the heroic a superimposed ‘myth.’ Scripture contains numerous litanies of heroes (cf. Heb. 11), whose heroic faith is intended to inspire, challenge, and encourage.

Apostles are not self-proclaimed ‘heroes’ but they are called to walk in faith-exuding authority. David Devenish, who quite literally ‘wrote the book’ on apostleship within Newfrontiers, also recognised the danger of the self-titled ‘apostle’ as artificially creating an elevated status symbol.²⁸ 

Even if leaders do not accept the office or title of ‘apostle’, they may well be functioning in a role whereby their own charism becomes a reputable ‘brand’. There is no more obvious example of this in recent years than Mark Driscoll, who had a not-insignificant relationship with Newfrontiers.²⁹ After speaking at Newfrontiers’ annual leadership conference in 2008, Virgo spoke of him in direct relation to his individual charism: 

Well, he came and he’s gone – but we certainly knew he was here! Mark Driscoll packs a punch. What did I especially appreciate about him? His straightforwardness. Nothing hidden and no hiding, so, like the Apostle Paul, his forthrightness commended himself to our consciences. Because of his transparency it’s not difficult to feel that you know him personally… He loves the truth and he loves Jesus and wants to make him known… His radical priorities and decision-making are deeply rooted in a passion to confront our contemporaries with gospel truth.³⁰

Virgo’s appreciation for Driscoll’s forthrightness might echo what Sayers and Langberg see as a problem: the expectation of a ‘certain’ kind of leader. But gifted individuals have always been important within apostolic networks. Indeed, in his autobiography, Virgo regularly comments upon such leaders glowingly as gifted men worthy of emulation: ‘For the first time I was encountering Gerald Coates’; ‘the “London brothers”…included other stars such as John Noble…’; ‘C. J. Mahaney…is one of the most impressive men of God it has been my privilege to know…The whole movement is filled with the fruits of his outstanding example.’³¹

Reformed evangelicalism often plays down the role of the individual, perhaps from good motive to avoid pride, undue adulation, or tyranny; yet this is not without the danger of false humility and dishonourable cynicism too. For Virgo, the attraction of gifted men lay precisely in their charism for galvanising others to a greater kingdom vision beyond themselves, as we see in his description of prominent apostolic leader, David Mansell where a ‘captivated’ Virgo describes: ‘My heart was pumping with excitement. I loved this man’s message and I increasingly loved the man.’³²

There is no inherent contradiction in seeking the glory of God and his kingdom in and through the honour of one of God’s gifted servants. Individual leaders matter not only as repositories of the gift, but as people themselves.

Similarly, Virgo’s reflection on meeting ‘The Magnificent Seven’ (a group of noteworthy apostolic leaders whose number eventually grew to include Virgo himself), is also insightful. He clearly appreciated their masculine directness in contrast to established evangelical leaders:

At first I was shocked at the forthrightness of their conversation when confronting one another, though to be honest I also admired their edge as a genuine strength… I had never seen encounters that were quite so raw and lacking in the normal niceties of Christian debate which so often seemed to fudge issues.³³

Virgo also noted the idea of ‘balance’ as a kind of idol within the Reformed theological world of the time. ‘At LBC in those days “caution” was the key theme. “Balance” (what J.I. Packer calls “that dreadful self-conscious word”) was to be our God.’³⁴ In contrast, Virgo was influenced by Martyn Lloyd-Jones, whom he described as ‘no narrow-minded, safe, evangelical but a man with a big God who was to be sought for all his many blessings.’³⁵ It seems that Virgo’s appreciation for faith-filled confidence in other leaders was inextricable from the kind of leadership he felt was essential in order to bring reform. This was not an abdication of the need for a genuinely balanced approach, but rather a recognition that true Biblical balance might be found not in Aristotelian moderation but in the mutual angularity of different kinds of personality. 

The lack of ‘normal niceties’ among the apostolic pioneers Virgo saw can be seen as a feature of such men who hold their convictions with appropriate seriousness and focus that they display Paul’s own apostolic desire ‘to speak, not to please man, but to please God’ (cf. 1 Thess. 2:4). It is such single-minded focus that often frames a more robust response to critics.

3. Authority, Opposition, and Response

One recurrent critique of authoritarian abuse is seen in how an authoritative leader may respond to opposition and criticism, especially in their citation of Biblical examples mirroring their own ministry. Much has been said in evangelical circles about not seeking to emulate such leaders, such as Matt Chandler’s well-known exhortation: ‘you’re not David!’³⁶ While ‘narcigesis’ is certainly a danger, restorationist apostles regularly applied the lives of Biblical heroes not only to the experience of leaders but also to congregations and movements.

Nehemiah and the Wall

One of the most pertinent parallels for apostolic leaders is Nehemiah, particularly due to the rebuilding of foundations (cf. 1 Cor. 3:10) and opposing enemies to that rebuilding work (cf. 1 Tim. 6:3-5, 20-21). Nehemiah refuses to even speak with Sanballat et al, identifying them as harmful conspirators: ‘“I am doing a great work…Why should the work stop while I leave it and come down to you?”’ (Neh. 6:3). He also refuses to acknowledge any truth in their accusations that he had conceited motives for rebuilding the wall: ‘“No such things as you say have been done, for you are inventing them out of your own mind.”’ (Neh. 6:8). A significant critique of Mark Driscoll made in the influential Rise and Fall of Mars Hill podcast (2021) was the perceived misuse of Nehemiah 6 to avoid valid critiques of his vision and practice.³⁷ 

In a more recent sermon series on Nehemiah, Driscoll said: ‘Don’t meet with your enemies, but do meet with your God….’³⁸ The sermon also reveals a different side to Driscoll’s story, seeming to show why he refused to respond to the podcast’s request for comment, in tandem with Nehemiah’s responses to Sanballat. A Gospel Coalition article directly questioned this kind of interpretation:

Is Nehemiah really a good model to follow? Or are Driscoll and others using his example to wrongly justify violent and intimidating ways of leading God’s people?…When we read Nehemiah as a model for leadership, we easily end up confirming our own biases. It’s not the way to go.³⁹

Whilst it would certainly be problematic to apply Nehemiah to justify violence or intimidation, clearly it is not inherently inapplicable to cases of opposition to pioneer leaders. Indeed, the irony is that such a critique overlooks the bias of the potentially cowardly and avoidant leader, who might find ‘Nehemiah as a model for leadership’ problematic precisely because of their own biases. 

In his 1987 book, Men of Destiny, written during a key time in the emerging reputation of Newfrontiers as a movement, Terry Virgo himself highlighted Nehemiah 6:8 in the same way Driscoll would many years later:

We must emulate him. We cannot be taken up with chasing these mysterious allegations or trying to unravel where they all start. Just as Nehemiah did not seem to become preoccupied with it or thrown off course, neither must we…[H]e was not arrogant. He had a sense of destiny. He had no intention of running away or being diverted.⁴⁰

Virgo also recounts the rumours spreading around himself and Newfrontiers at the time, including accusations that Virgo himself was angling to be a new ‘pope’ who sought to take over churches.⁴¹ ‘The rumours were … both powerful and painful. I experienced old friends avoiding me … And, to make matters worse, no one ever spoke to me direct or asked me questions that would have provided opportunity to answer and show how wrong the stories were.’⁴²

Again one wonders whether the present climate might have caused even greater reputational damage for Virgo, given the increased platform for public expression for such critics. This shows again not only the validity of an apostolic leader’s identification with figures like Nehemiah, but the likelihood of personal accusations regarding self-serving motives arising when they seek to exercise pioneer leadership.

Paul and the Corinthians

Notably, the Apostle Paul had cause to respond to accusations of what today might be termed ‘spiritual abuse.’ Paul’s response to such allegations is, arguably, the entire point of the second epistle to the Corinthians. It is clear he and his team have been accused of ‘commending themselves’, a phrase referenced numerous times throughout the letter, often ironically (2 Cor. 3:1; 4:2; 5:12; 6:4; 10:12; 10:18; 12:11). Paul is clearly wrestling with the dynamics of authority and honour in the context of his own dishonour, with he and his team treated as ‘imposters’ (6:8) under the suspicion that Paul was ‘crafty’ and deceitful, seeking to ‘take advantage’ of them, both spiritually and financially (12:16). 

What is intriguing in light of our present context of equivalent situations is that Paul not only defends himself against these charges by citing his authority, but he turns the source of these charges into a pastoral opportunity to challenge his accusers and highlight the problem of those deceived by them. When a Christian leader does something similar today, they tend to be immediately re-accused of ‘victim-shaming’ on the basis that—irrespective of whether any allegations are true—a pattern of narratives of subjective hurt are often deemed sufficient colloquial evidence to indict a leader’s conduct or general vision.⁴³ 

To use another contemporary pejorative phrase, Paul ‘doubles down’ on his authority, stating the full spectrum of his postures, practices, and sufferings, how they spoke ‘by truthful speech, and the power of God’ (6:7). He challenges the Corinthians’ own foolishness in listening to the actual imposters, the ‘false apostles’ (11:13) who spread slander about them, ‘disguising themselves as apostles of Christ’ and as ‘servants of righteousness’ (11:13-15). Paul could easily be accused of deflecting or a lack of humility. He refuses to back down or acquiesce with even a hint of his accusers’ charges, saying: ‘what I am doing I will continue to do, in order to undermine the claim of those who would like to claim that in their boasted mission they work on the same terms as we do.’ (11:12).

Paul ‘doubles down’ in this way not to condemn the Corinthians, nor merely to clear his name for his own sake, but for the Corinthians’ sake, out of his overflowing love for them (7:2-4). It is for this reason that he can say: ‘I am acting with great boldness toward you’ (7:4). This is in stark contrast to the kind of enforced timidity (and perhaps faux humility) which often characterises the responses of public leaders to such charges today, perhaps more eager to bring quick resolution to the difficulties than to challenge the culture or false teaching by which such attitudes have been nurtured.

It is not inappropriate for pioneer leaders to continue exercising their leadership gift in the face of the kind of motive-targeted opposition they are promised will occur if they are doing their job properly (cf. Matt. 5:11). Clearly this does not give licence to blanket silencing of all critics. But unless we are willing to call Nehemiah and Paul inherently arrogant, we must allow not only the possibility but the necessity of pioneer leaders to strongly oppose their opponents if they can indeed point to the goodness of their motives and the good fruit of their labours. 

A leader is not inherently arrogant or unbiblical for believing in the vision, principles, and methods for which they advocate, even where such methods may have adverse effects. This cannot be used to assume every opponent is typified as a Sanballat, but neither is it necessary to say that a leader who responds as Paul did to the Corinthians—or as Virgo did to many of his many critics—inevitably follows an identifiably ‘problematic’ pattern.

Pioneer leaders cannot flourish unless, on some level, there is a degree of trust that they are indeed ‘gifted’ (pneumatologically) to intuit some decisions that need to be made,⁴⁴ and thus, to be prepared to oppose (rather than placate) those who seek to undermine that Spirit-led mission too. 

4. Pioneer Courage, Trust, and Conflict

It is common to critique the decision-making of pioneer leaders on the grounds that they might say or do things which produce negative effects among those who see them uncharitably. As Andrew Wilson rightly observes: ‘We don’t have to choose between men of jelly and men of steel. It’s possible to shepherd with courage and compassion, humility and bravery, clarity and charity.’⁴⁵ And yet, much like Virgo’s observation of the pursuit of perpetual ‘balance’, this might create a flawed expectation. 

Pioneer leaders such as Martin Luther, John Wesley, and William Booth all seemed to have what could be called an ‘edge’. This was not faith or courage at the expense of love or gentleness, but merely an angularity of character, meaning they might not display all conceivable leadership virtues simultaneously. Obvious New Testament examples include Jesus’ cleansing of the Temple or Paul causing a riot at Ephesus, in which good virtues like the avoidance of quarrels, peaceability, striving for unity, or gentleness, may not be overtly evident to all observers within all individual moments. 

The expectation that pioneer leaders should show the same kind of gentleness and tolerance, for example, to all people at all times is neither realistic nor advisable.⁴⁶ It is such misconceptions that result in the peculiar angularity of some pioneer leaders being easily misunderstood by those less sympathetic to their priorities.

When you see how the prophets and apostles acted in individual moments, they do not always show a balanced model of gentle-yet-firm action in every instance. Such balance ought to be present, rather, across the entire breadth of their life and ministry, as attested by the overseer qualifications (Tit. 3; 1 Tim. 2-3), which tend towards character traits best observed close-up and over the longer haul (hence why recent converts should not be overseers, cf. 1 Tim. 3:6).

Wilson’s ‘solution’ for keeping leaders from becoming overbearing also seems inescapably bureaucratic: 

Institutionally, churches can make feedback and accountability as easy as possible through a combination of church surveys, staff appraisals, clear job descriptions, anonymous staff-culture surveys, a competent and empowered board, and rigorous HR processes.⁴⁷ 

This may well be seen as ‘good practice’ but this simply doesn’t seem to be the case for how pioneer leaders have been kept accountable throughout most of church history. Arguably, this more likely creates ‘company men’ who do the sensible things and rarely take prophetic risks of which the establishment might disapprove. 

The scene between Paul and Agabus in Acts 21, for example, is remarkably unbureaucratic: a dramatic prophetic word is delivered which Paul simultaneously agrees with and yet ignores the accompanying counsel and goes to Jerusalem anyway, since he ‘would not be persuaded’ (Acts 21:10-14). This is one of many examples where Paul could be labelled ‘arrogant’ for apparently acting beyond the democratic wisdom of his accountability. In contrast, at the riot at Ephesus, we hear: ‘But when Paul wished to go in among the crowd, the disciples would not let him.’ (Acts 19:30). There is evidently a Spirit-led give-and-take between Paul and his companions, but certainly not a ‘formal’ accountability structure.

On some level, apostles need to be trusted to make decisions that will—by the very definition of the fact that they are pioneer apostles—go against the perceived wisdom of much of the accountability structure that we may put in place to constrain them. Indeed, perhaps the most easily misunderstood behaviour of a pioneer leader is their propensity to eschew bureaucratic constraints when such structures threaten to undermine or derail what they see as a Spirit-led direction. 

Honeysett, for example, highlights the danger of leaders ‘overrid[ing] the formal structure of authority, governance and accountability’ so that such mechanisms are replaced by ‘coercive control.’⁴⁸ This, again, invites an inevitably cynical motive (‘coercive control’) for what may be a fairly ‘normal’ aversion of the pioneer to bureaucratic constraint.

There would be no Salvation Army if William Booth had not effectively taken charge of the London Mission’s annual conference, changing the name to the ‘war council’, appointing himself as the ‘general’ of a new ‘army’, giving him ‘the freedom to act without the restraint of the conference.’⁴⁹ At this moment Booth famously said: ‘“if you can’t trust me it is of no use for us to attempt to work together. Confidence in God and in me are absolutely indispensable both now and ever afterwards.”’⁵⁰ 

How else would we see such events today other than ‘coercive control’? They seem to fit what Honeysett calls ‘the first, biggest, and easiest step into abuse’: ‘when leaders use their informal power to try to increase their formal power, or otherwise to evade or avoid legitimate constraints upon them.’⁵¹ Again, we might imagine the contemporary responses to Booth’s actions: “What about those important formal processes? What about due democratic diligence? Who does this Booth think he is?”

“He’s a Spirit-led apostolic leader”, should be the reply. Because only an apostolic leader would do such a thing. Indeed, whilst manipulative abusers might also seek to take over existing structures for self-serving ends, such acts of pioneer authority remain essential to flourishing missional advance.⁵² Indeed, just eight years after Booth’s executive ‘intervention’, the mission grew from 50 stations to 1,006, from 88 evangelists to 2,260, plus expansion into 12 other countries.⁵³

Fast-track growth is often noted as one of the ways abusive leadership is excused, of course. This was one of the major critiques of Mark Driscoll’s situation at Mars Hill. But like Booth, Driscoll did have a propensity to take the kind of action that would inevitably cause conflict along the way.⁵⁴ This is often seen as exclusively problematic. Yet more charitably it could be seen as a necessary trait of pioneer leadership. As Roxburgh and Romanuk noted: 

Missional leaders can model ways of engaging conflict to bring about change. They must be ready to create conflict that helps people think differently, name conflict, and facilitate its resolution. They will live with conflict and still sleep at night.⁵⁵

The critical angle to this might be that leaders like Driscoll ‘create conflict’ in order to achieve their own aims at the expense of others. It ultimately depends whether the conflict is justifiable according to the mission, or genuinely megalomaniacal to the detriment of it.⁵⁶ 

Such conflict-creation is simply what happens when new terrain is explored or conquered. Similarly, it was said of the pioneer of the Great Awakening, George Whitefield: ‘It was not…Whitefield’s style that provoked the Church’s reaction to him. It was Whitefield’s disregard of the ecclesiastical, theological, and political preoccupations of the age.’⁵⁷ The pioneer cannot regard the establishment with too friendly a disposition, lest their own calling to bring reform to it become compromised. 

It is impossible to take such an attitude and not encounter intense opposition from those who cannot see the same problems, or who do not believe the pioneer’s alternative approach is necessary or legitimate. But the pioneer will fail to fulfil his calling if he cannot bring the appropriate level of challenge to the establishment whilst also forging an alternative path forward.

5. Pioneer Leadership and Permanent Movement

One of the reasons a culture of spiritual abuse suspicion is so important is that the loss or denigration of pioneer apostolic leadership is genuinely crucial to the advance of Church mission in each generation.

Missional movements tend to diminish from fear of the implications of risk-taking. Notably, in the book published just before his ‘fall’, Driscoll spoke about this very problem, where an institutional movement becomes ‘afraid of losing what it has achieved’ with ‘constant pressure upon senior leaders to stop at a moderate level of success and cease pushing forward for new victories.’⁵⁸ He even makes a distinctly pneumatological claim regarding the anointing of the Spirit for movements which forsake their ‘apostolic’ mission: 

Once the mission of an organization becomes the preservation of the institution, the original mission stops, and the Holy Spirit stops showing up in power…The remnant that is left behind exists solely to tell the story–not to keep writing it.⁵⁹

It is a common joke within British Methodism that the Methodist Conference (the annual governance meeting) exists to ensure there will never again be another John Wesley. Indeed, the only way Methodism could likely birth ‘another Wesley’ would be for such a person to pioneer something of which Methodism could not approve. This, after all, is precisely what Wesley and Whitefield did in ‘leaving’ the Church of England, and what William Booth did by leaving Methodism.

Steve Addison, in Pioneering Movements, highlights the necessity of the unbureaucratised ‘fringe’ of the Church in the advance of kingdom mission: ‘Unrecognised groups of ordinary people with little or no status in the church have started at least half of the mission movements in the history of the church.’⁶⁰ This presents something of a paradox to some conceptions of ‘apostolic’ authority too. If those exercising an apostolic gift become more like ‘sitting bishops’ who no longer exercise their authority on the missional front lines, this will catalyse new apostolic leaders to initiate reform and renewal.⁶¹ 

Hirsch and Catchim echo this sense in their concept of ‘permanent revolution’:

The routinization of charisma, the process of institutionalization, reification, and a host of other factors all conspire to work against such durability. Entropy and dissipation are part of the physical and social fabric of reality, yet the very nature of the church’s mission calls for continuous movement.⁶²

Where some traditions might resent this apparently perpetual need for change, this is not a gravitation to perpetual reinterpretation (as with progressivism) but rather perpetual dependence upon the work of the Spirit who birthed those traditions. Hence, when Paul says ‘follow the pattern of sound words’ and to ‘guard the good deposit’ he calls him to do this ‘by the Holy Spirit, who dwells within you’ (2 Tim. 1:13-14), regarding Timothy’s spiritual anointing (cf. 2 Tim. 1:6). 

Paul also calls Timothy to raise up ‘faithful men’ capable of themselves leading other ‘faithful men’ to follow after them (2 Tim. 2:2), opening a pathway to future generations whose emphases may well differ from their predecessors whilst being called to ‘follow the pattern of sound words.’

This pattern of raising up and releasing new leaders is evidently an important way the Spirit operates in the multifarious frontiers of kingdom mission across different generations and contexts. Furthermore, the ‘continuous movement’ Hirsch and Catchim advocate cannot be centred upon a mere constitutional pioneering ‘policy’. An apostolic leader really is necessary:

We suggest that the concept of perpetual advance and renewal is directly linked to the presence and activity of the apostolic ministry; they are the permanent revolutionaries who maintain the permanent revolution. As long as Wesley was alive, the movement continued to grow…The loss of the apostolic influence opens the door to encroaching decline.⁶³

There is a notable application here to the Mark Driscoll saga. Many saw the subsequent collapse of Mars Hill as symptomatic of Driscoll’s inappropriate level of control. Some of this is undoubtedly true, particularly because Driscoll did not function in a consistently apostolic manner. At Mars Hill he did not train, send, and release new leaders and congregations but rather expanded his own sphere of influence without raising up new leaders who might pioneer beyond him.⁶⁴ 

However, it is also inevitable that if a leader’s charisma is not adequately succeeded, inevitably a movement will not ‘move’ as it once did. This is evident from the trajectories of most of the fruitful pioneering movements in evangelical history. Whilst the Salvation Army and Methodism continue on, playing a role in the ecclesial body, they are no longer on the missional ‘front line’ which made them necessary in the first place, when the gift of charismatic apostolicity was present.

6. Accountability and Relationality

A climate of spiritual abuse suspicion tends to encourage bureaucratic rather than relational cultures to guarantee accountability of pioneer leaders, despite potentially eroding functional trust in apostolic authority as a result.

Virgo, whilst extolling the virtue of the individually gifted apostle and the need to press forward despite sharp criticisms, was not thereby oblivious to the dangers of genuinely unaccountable or abusive leadership.⁶⁵ One reason his legacy endured contra that of so many of his restorationist apostolic peers: a strong combination of pioneer faith and relational accountability.

Strong emphases upon relationality within movements, however, may now be interpreted suspiciously. As Honeysett argues: ‘the relational is less transparent and so needs to be governed and overseen by formal accountability if we are to have confidence that it is being exercised appropriately.’⁶⁶ There is a perception here that formal bureaucratic structures are less likely to be abused. However, this is not necessarily true. Abusers often know how to hide within or manipulate bureaucratic structures, and sometimes the structures themselves become abusive.

There is also the inevitable dehumanisation, however subtle, in such systems which can lead to officious forms of abuse, as C.S. Lewis said, perpetrated by ‘quiet men with white collars and cut fingernails and smooth-shaven cheeks who do not need to raise their voices.’⁶⁷ As I have argued elsewhere, there is a kind of ‘violence’ to the bureaucratic that is especially problematic precisely because of what it purports to oppose.⁶⁸ Such critiques of bureaucracy per se must be borne in mind when seeking to oppose potential relational weaknesses.

Honeysett rightly notes that ‘it is hard to ascertain the effects of relational influence, trust or popularity built up between individuals, even for those involved, or to evaluate the possible power discrepancies that can arise.’⁶⁹ But such relational bonds of trust remain essential to how apostolic teams function, mirroring the apostolic brotherhood of Paul and his team. As Virgo himself said: 

The whole atmosphere of the New Testament church is not one of an institution but of a family…[Paul’s] apostolic relationship, often expressed through such men as Timothy, Epaphras, Epaphroditus and others, was crucial to their growth and success.⁷⁰

In contrast, Kruger demonstrates the suspicious lens through which such relationships may be viewed as manipulable: ‘Narcissists are remarkably good at forming alliances, building a network of supporters, and laying the groundwork for a future alienation of perceived enemies.’⁷¹ No doubt this is true of abusive leaders. But is forming alliances and connecting closely with loyal supporters not what all leaders seek to do, including to oppose disruptive enemies of the apostolic vision in unison?

Loyalty can be abused, but it is also a natural and desirable consequence of relational team-building. Any good vision should be subject to valid and accountable critique, but as noted earlier, a fruitful vision will also attract ‘enemies’ who need to be opposed as a team too. It is now easier than ever for such enemies to cast themselves as victims due to the many documented examples of abusive leaders seeing genuine victims as enemies. As ever, the challenge is determining the extent to which such opponents seek to enlighten the darkness in faith or to endarken the light in doubt. 

Speaking of the leader’s response to accountable challenge, Kruger says: ‘We need to stop thinking like lawyers – ready to litigate and rebut each and every attack – and instead be willing to hear the truth if it is spoken in our midst.’⁷² One assumes this analogy also applies to ‘prosecution lawyers’ as well as ‘defence lawyers’. If the accused leader is called to cease being ‘defensive’, what about the increasingly litigious processes by which such leaders are often challenged?

Virgo speaks of such challenges in light of the Israelite army’s obedience to Gideon in separating the camp: 

He did not invite a vote about it. There is no record that he asked the soldiers which groups they would like to be in…A leader does not want to have to explain his every decision or for ever have to coax his people to embrace the vision that God has shown him. Gideon said, “Watch me and what I do, then do likewise.” This is one of the hallmarks of anointed leadership.⁷³

Truly ‘anointed leadership’, of course, must be correctable, not merely trusted and honoured. The question is not whether to hold anointed leaders accountable, but how. Those most animated to stop potential authoritarians will be less likely to direct their considerable energies to ensure prophetic and pioneering risk-taking continues to lead mission. 

Accountability must be exercised Biblically, in genuine community, according to consistent and comprehensive application of Biblical principles and examples, rather than an infiltrated version of such principles led by secular postmodern anxieties over power relations. If there are attestable and consistent patterns of unrepentant sin, not a mere pattern of offence causation, then the Biblical processes for challenging such leaders should be followed.⁷⁴ 

Charismatic leaders exercising some form of ‘apostolic’ authority may always be prone to authoritarian abuse. However, exclusively bureaucratic or suspicious approaches to authority will inevitably stifle the very gift of pioneer apostolic leaders to herald the advance of the kingdom in fresh and incisive ways.

In a time where ‘loyalty’ to a leader is seen with increasing suspicion (not least of one calling himself a spiritual ‘father’), familial relationality will be difficult to recover if we are so afraid of safeguarding concerns that we fail to safeguard the familial bonds necessary for ongoing fruitful apostolic mission. If some churches appear content to continue without such pioneer apostolic mission, this does not mean they have faithfully ‘guarded’ all they are called to guard (cf. 2 Tim. 1:14). It may indicate a settling for something less than the frontier mission to which the Church has been called.

1. See David Devenish, Fathering Leaders, Motivating Mission: Restoring the Role of the Apostle in Today’s Church (Milton Keynes: Authentic, 2011). ↩︎
2. The point is not to separate the apostolic charism from the wider body nor from the importance of collaborative activity, but to avoid the increasingly secular approaches to these which (by nature) cannot imagine the role of the Spirit in leadership practices or frameworks. ↩︎
3. For a nuanced and varied account of the role of the apostle in the contemporary church and its potential incorporation with other forms of ecclesiastical governance in traditions beyond charismatic networks, see Benjamin G. McNair Scott, Apostles Today: Making Sense of Contemporary Charismatic Apostolates: A Historical and Theological Appraisal (Cambridge: The Lutterworth Press, 2014). ↩︎
4. Arguably, this risks opening a controversial can of worms which cannot be adequately reflected on during the scope of this article. Whilst it may be deemed wiser to leave the can closed, I believe one of the reasons it is seen as so controversial relates to the highly emotive implications of these themes within progressive, individualistic, self-expressive, therapeutic societies such as characterise the modern west. ↩︎
5. One reason for this may be that Newfrontiers came to be seen as ‘the acceptable face of Restoration’, a reputation Virgo himself did not see as an entirely good thing! See Terry Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths: Restoring the Church to Christ’s Original Intention: One Man’s Journey (Eastbourne: Kingsway, 2006), 235. ↩︎
6. Examples in the public domain include PJ Smyth and Stephen Van Rhyn. However, these also indicate an ever-increasing number of examples of leadership ‘transitions’ with leaders who could be characterised as exuding or advocating for an overtly ‘masculine’ approach to leadership. Irrespective of the genuine problems for which such leaders may be culpable within such cases, it appears such leaders are now far more likely to be held in suspicion within the present cultural moment. ↩︎
7. Indeed, the names of most of the now-devolved Newfrontiers apostolic spheres – ‘Advance’, ‘New Ground’, ‘Regions Beyond’, ‘Relational Mission’ – still connote this now-threatened pioneering identity. ↩︎
8. See, for example, Andrew Wilson’s stance. https://thinktheology.co.uk/blog/article/teaching-with-a-little-t-and-a-big-t. Oddly (but not insignificantly), the feminist activist Natalie Collins attended Wilson’s 2018 Think conference, and subtitled her review of the conference: ‘When Newfrontiers became accidentally feminist’. She noted: ‘I can say with confidence that Andrew Wilson’s complementarity is a repackaged version of 1980s romantic feminism, which is different enough from 2018 modern feminism to lull delegates into believing they are maintaining their complementarian convictions.’ Natalie Collins, ‘The Future of Complementarity: When Newfrontiers Became Accidentally Feminist’, The Christian Post (July 2018). https://www.christiantoday.com/article/the-future-of-complementarity-when-newfrontiers-became-accidentally-feministexecute1/130003.htm
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9. To speak in such terms inevitably invites the question of evidencing such traits, which is not possible here. For a nuanced study of observable male/female differences in general, see Stephen B. Clark, Man and Woman in Christ: An Examination of the Roles of Men and Women in Light of Scripture and the Social Sciences (Ann Arbour, MI: Servant Books, 1980), 369-448. For a more recent and pointed discussion of ‘masculine’ traits in relation to oppositional leadership, see Zachary M. Garris, Masculine Christianity (Ann Arbor, MI: Reformation Zion Publishing, 2021), 41-44. ↩︎
10. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 68. ↩︎
11. As Dave Murrow argued, accentuating masculine virtue redresses an existing imbalance: ‘The feminine spirit is a wonderful thing. A healthy church has to have it. But most churches today are out of balance, brimming with the feminine spirit while short on the masculine spirit… When the masculine spirit shows up in church, Christians and non-Christians roundly condemn it. People who speak the truth too boldly are stifled because they might hurt someone’s feelings. Leaders who make bold moves are accused of being power hungry… [T]he answer is not the triumph of the masculine spirit over the feminine. A church must have both. A shortage of one or the other leads to abuse.’ David Murrow, Why Men Hate Going to Church (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2005), 25-26.
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12. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 64. ↩︎
13. Whilst these may be hypothetical speculative questions, anybody familiar with the common pattern in how such discussions tend to occur will recognise a culture of suspicion apparently foreign to the New Testament Church in relation to honouring leaders. ‘Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honour…Do not admit a charge against an elder except on the evidence of two or three witnesses.’ (1Tim. 5:17-19); ‘Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with groaning, for that would be of no advantage to you.’ (Heb. 13:17). It is precisely on account of the honour due to leaders that ‘those who persist in sin’ must be publicly rebuked ‘so that the rest may stand in fear.’ (1Tim. 5:21). ↩︎
14. See Douglas Murray, The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race, and Identity (London: Bloomsbury, 2020), 64-106. ↩︎
15. Arguably, the culture of cynical anxiety could also be interpreted as ‘abusive’ to leaders who feel called to ‘lead with zeal’ (Rom. 12:8) and to speak ‘as those uttering oracles of God’ (1Pet. 4:11). To do so in our contemporary postmodern climate is unlikely to avoid the charge of domineering. ↩︎
16. Joe Rigney, Leadership and Emotional Sabotage: Resisting the Anxiety that will Wreck Your Family, Destroy Your Church, and Ruin the World (Moscow, ID: Canon Press, 2024); Edwin Friedman, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in an Age of the Quick Fix , Rev. Ed. (New York: Church Publishing, 2017). ↩︎
17. Reviewing the Discourse of ‘Spiritual Abuse’: Logical Problems & Unintended Consequences (Evangelical Alliance, 2018), 1. ‘Such persistent application of [the term, ‘Spiritual Abuse’] risks becoming a “self-fulfilling prophecy”: whether intentionally or not, it will lend weight to the arguments of those who take its cumulative general usage as evidence of the need distinctively to criminalise it, and thus potentially to criminalise whole religious communities with whose theology they happen to disagree.’ ‘Spiritual Abuse’, 18. ↩︎
18. Marcus Honeysett, Powerful Leaders?: When Church Leadership Goes Wrong and How to Prevent It (London: IVP, 2022), 157-159. ↩︎
19. Honeysett, Powerful Leaders?, 157. ↩︎
20. Honeysett, Powerful Leaders?, 157. ↩︎
21. For an influential analysis of this in a parenting context (thus influential upon future generations of leaders), see Abigail Shrier, Bad Therapy: Why the Kids Aren’t Growing Up (London: Swift Press, 2024). ↩︎
22. Michael J. Kruger, Bully Pulpit: Confronting the Problem of Spiritual Abuse in the Church (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2022), xiv-xv. ↩︎
23. Kruger, Bully Pulpit, 5. In contrast, Honeysett shows far more awareness of the dangers of cynicism undermining genuine uses of authority. See Powerful Leaders?, 20-23. ↩︎
24. We see this especially among the judges and prophets of the Old Testament in the sense of the Spirit coming ‘upon’ a leader for a particular purpose, but we see a similar connection in relation to the role of the Spirit for apostolic ministry too. ↩︎
25. Diane Langberg, Redeeming Power: Understanding Authority and Abuse in the Church (Grand Rapids: Brazos 2020), 128. ↩︎
26. See also “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” (1 Cor. 11:1). ↩︎
27. Mark Sayers, Facing Leviathan: Leadership, Influence, and Creating in a Cultural Storm (Chicago: Moody, 2014), 103. ↩︎
28. Devenish, Fathering Leaders, Motivating Mission, 6-11. ↩︎
29. For a brief summary of Newfrontiers’ relationship to Driscoll, see Phil Whittall’s post. https://thesimplepastor.co.uk/newfrontiers-mark-driscoll/ ↩︎
30. ‘Mark Driscoll at Together on a Mission’ (July 2008). https://www.terryvirgo.org/blog/mark-driscoll-at-together-on-a-mission/ ↩︎
31. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 69. ↩︎
32. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 66. ↩︎
33. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 81. ↩︎
34. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 57. See also Aaron Edwards, ‘Preacher as Balanced Extremist: Biblical Dialectics and Sermonic Certainty’, The Expository Times 126:9 (June 2015), 425-35. ↩︎
35. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 57. ↩︎
36. Matt Chandler, ‘The Bible Is Not About Us’. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHm-rJ_VmmE&t=6s ↩︎
37. See https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/podcasts/rise-and-fall-of-mars-hill/. ↩︎
38. Mark Driscoll, ‘Nehemiah #6 – What is the best way to deal with cruel enemies?’ (22^nd Oct 2022) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XXPZgHOGG0&list=PLAYWRCyUBQanW3AmO4N5sz2fxc4Xj5m0l&index=8 ↩︎
39. Timothy Escott, ‘Leading Like Nehemiah: Can We Read Nehemiah Like Driscoll Did?’ (Aug 2021). https://au.thegospelcoalition.org/article/leading-like-nehemiah-can-we-read-nehemiah-like-driscoll-did/ ↩︎
40. Terry Virgo, Men of Destiny (Eastbourne: Kingsway, 1987), 153. ↩︎
41. Virgo, Men of Destiny, 146-47. ↩︎
42. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 86. ↩︎
43. See Kruger, Bully Pulpit, 5. ↩︎
44. PJ Smyth, a Newfrontiers apostolic leader who stepped down from ministry in controversial (albeit not ‘abusive’) circumstances in 2021, had published a widely commended book on eldership only the previous year, where he argued not only for symbiotic team dynamics to restrain potentially abusive leadership, but also of the importance of the team learning to trust the ‘intuition’ of the primary leader. PJ Smyth, Elders: Developing Elders and Revitalizing Teams (Redhill: Advance, 2020), 120-21. ↩︎
45. Andrew Wilson, ‘Courageous Pastors or Overbearing Leaders: How Do We Tell the Difference?’ The Gospel Coalition (Feb 2024). ‘https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/courageous-pastors/. ↩︎
46. See, for example, Paul’s response to Elymas (Acts 13:10-11). ↩︎
47. Wilson, ‘Courageous or Overbearing’. ↩︎
48. Honeysett, Powerful Leaders?, 79. ↩︎
49. See John Larsson, 1929: A Crisis that Shaped the Salvation Army’s Future (London: Salvation Army, 2009), 13-14. ↩︎
50. Larsson, 1929, 14. ↩︎
51. Honeysett, Powerful Leaders?, 57. ↩︎
52. None of this is even to say that Booth did not introduce problematic processes in the Salvation Army via such executive leadership. He almost certainly did. But this does not negate the necessity of Booth’s apostolic heart in launching the Army as the mission-shaped institution it ultimately became. This is why the apostolic gift is needed not just once, but ongoingly (including as an eventual challenge to the methods of the founding apostle, of course). ↩︎
53. Larsson, 1929, 23. ↩︎
54. Driscoll’s infamous conception of the necessary ‘pile of dead bodies behind the Mars Hill bus’ is a mutated extension of this logic which ultimately led to the failure of the mission (or, the crashing of the bus). See Cosper, Rise and Fall of Mars Hill, episode 7. https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/podcasts/rise-and-fall-of-mars-hill/mars-hill-mark-driscoll-podcast-state-of-emergency.html ↩︎
55. Alan J. Roxburghe and Fred Romanuk, The Missional Leader: Equipping Your Church to Reach a Changing World (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2006), 135. ↩︎
56. What is often overlooked is that the ‘mission’ is not merely the numerical advance but the structural integrity of what is built. This was Paul’s concern, that the mission builds firm foundations (1 Cor. 3:10), and that the people – the ultimate ‘goal’ of the mission – bear good fruit (cf. 1 Cor. 13). ↩︎
57. William Gibson, ‘Whitefield and the Church of England’, George Whitefield: Life, Context, Legacy (London: OUP, 2016), 63. ↩︎
58. Mark Driscoll, A Call to Resurgence: Will Christianity Have a Funeral or a Future? (Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale, 2013), 283-84. ↩︎
59. Driscoll, Resurgence, 284-85. ↩︎
60. Steve Addison, Pioneering Movements: Leadership that Multiplies Disciples and Churches (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2015), 69. ↩︎
61. This also provides a way to marry the Biblical heart behind challenging abusive authority in relation to the silencing of suffering voices. Sometimes it is those who see things differently to the established leadership dynamics who may be the harbingers of the next movement of missional advance. This is by no means automatic, of course. Movements such as the Emerging Church and Fresh Expressions sought to galvanise a pioneering spirit away from the established centre, but failed to produce long term missional fruit, arguably because they remained fixated upon their disenfranchisement from the establishment, without a genuine apostolic vision and practice. ↩︎
62. Alan Hirsch and Tim Catchim, The Permanent Revolution: Apostolic Imagination and Practice for the 21^st Century Church (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2012), 176. ↩︎
63. Hirsch, Permanent Revolution, 176. ↩︎
64. This reveals a marked difference between Mars Hill and Newfrontiers. Speaking at the 2008 Newfrontiers leadership conference, Driscoll exhorted the movement to find a successor to Virgo. They heeded this but disagreed with his particular application, choosing instead to release each apostolic leader to form their own movement, allowing the pioneering cycle to continue (‘in theory’, at least), even if it meant ‘Newfrontiers’ (Virgo’s ‘sphere’) gradually disappeared. ↩︎
65. See Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 180-82. ↩︎
66. Honeysett, Powerful Leaders?, 56-57. ↩︎
67. C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (London: Macmillan, 1961), 2. ↩︎
68. See Aaron P. Edwards, ‘The Violence of Bureaucracy and the Gospel of Peace: A Theological Response to an Academic Problem’, International Journal of Public Theology 12 (2018), 195-217. ↩︎
69. Honeysett, Powerful Leaders?, 57. ↩︎
70. Virgo, No Well-Worn Paths, 232. ↩︎
71. Kruger, Bully Pulpit, 13. ↩︎
72. Kruger, Bully Pulpit, 18. ↩︎
73. Virgo, Men of Destiny, 111. ↩︎
74. What should not be forgotten in this is the role of the Spirit in confrontation and reconciliation: ‘Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.’ (Gal. 6:1-2). The leader remains a brother in sin, who – though he himself may not have exercised gentleness in addressing others’ sin – should still be shown requisite gentleness by his addressors. ↩︎