I remember the first time I heard the idea. I was out with some friends at a coffee shop in Portland. We were surrounded by old burlap coffee sacks from places like Ethiopia, sitting on worn leather couches and discussing, as we often did, church ministry. One of my friends was explaining that every person fits into one of three broad categories for ministry: prophet, priest, or king. From pastor to lay person to barista, all people (whether they knew it or not) can identify their ministerial role through one of those lenses.
My friend Ryan asked me a question to see where I fit. “When you visit somebody at a hospital, what are you there to do?” Based on my answer to the question, we determined that I’m probably in the prophet category. The other friend that was with us, Sam, was more of a priest; he’s an encourager and the kind of guy to walk alongside you and pray with you. Ryan was a hybrid of prophet and king.
A woman overheard us talking and had obviously become very uncomfortable with the conversation. I can imagine that out of context and without the benefit of church breeding, we sounded crazy. She asked us, “Are you guy’s catholic or something? I’m listening to you put everybody in these boxes and I just don’t think everybody fits nicely into one category or another.”
We ended up having an okay conversation with our new friend about Jesus and church and the various roles. When we walked away my priest friend said, “I’m just sad we didn’t get her name.” My prophet-king friend said, “She was totally a prophet.”
Tossing the crown
Later I was meeting with a pastor in Portland. My wife and I were considering church planting in the city and I was getting to know other leaders that seemed like-minded. He asked me, “Are you a prophet, priest, or king?” By this time I knew I was uncomfortable with the whole set of categories, but I couldn’t articulate why. So I said, “I don’t really like those categories.”
The book Pastor by Will Willimon includes a section on typologies for ministry, and focuses on priests. The book explains how we landed on that image for ministry and what the impact can be for a church. It also included a statement that impacted me greatly. Willimon essentially says that pastors are never kings.
After reading that I realized why I had been uncomfortable with the prophet, priest, king taxonomy. In Scripture the role of priest and prophet were good things. Kings are not. God appoints priests, he calls prophets, but the people demand a king. In 1 Samuel it couldn’t be any clearer: “Give us a king to lead us,” the people say. Samuel is upset about this and God responds, “Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their King” (Sam. 8:7).
God will forever desire to be our only king.
Samuel tells the people what the king will do. In short, he will take the resources of the people and use them to build his own kingdom. Of course that was a critique of how kings in the ancient world operated. But we need to ask the question: haven’t we been guilty of building this way? Shouldn’t we take the fall of leaders and ministries not just as a cautionary tale, but as an indictment of the way we build and who or what we exalt?
The period of kings in Israel was a dark time. People followed their flawed king to the worship of other gods, over and over. This whole epoch leaves us longing for a better king. So why are we trying to resurrect a role that continuously led God’s people astray?
Still, I understand the appeal of the king model. I am guilty of desiring to be this sort of leader. When I was in college, I was reading a book by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, and in it he criticizes strong visionary leadership. I was actually so offended by this section in his book that I tossed it aside and didn’t pick it up again for another four years when we read it for a book club.
Upon reading it the second time, I realized that Bonhoeffer was simply cutting against my flesh and exposed the fact that I was really uncomfortable with genuinely having Jesus at the center of his church. I wanted to be king, and Jesus was calling me to die.
Jesus admonished his disciples for their kingly aspirations. “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matt. 20:24-28).
I believe we have come to a place where we have reasserted our age-old demand of a king. We are not satisfied unless we have a king “such as all the other nations have.” All of this has put a tremendous pressure on the leadership God has given to his church. Who is worthy of the task of being king?
The right roles
The desire to categorize people is an attempt to help people see where they fit in the landscape of God’s church. We want to release people to move in their gifting. Having simplified language makes everything seem clear and easy. But in reality these categories are unnecessary and not helpful. God has already given us rich language for gifting, service, and our relationship to one another in the body of Christ.
All believers are part of a holy priesthood. All are called to bring people into the presence of God. Some are prophets, and that has nothing to do with being able to “tell it like it is.” Rather, it has everything to do with speaking to the people “for their strengthening, encouragement and comfort” (1 Cor. 14.3).
There are a multitude of gifts listed throughout the New Testament that have been given for the building up of the body to become mature in Christ. Paul at times refers to himself as a spiritual father, instructing the church, and at others as a spiritual mother, laboring to birth the life of Jesus in the church and nurturing the fledgling body. There are gifts of healing and service, leadership and hospitality. Why then, are we inclined to take such a rich diversity of gifts and relationships, all intended to make Christ large, and boil them down to a few, that often serve only to make us seem large?
We are bent toward those things that will affirm our personalities and shy away from that which call us to the character of Christ. We look to the power of Old Testament kingship, but struggle to know about the crucified leadership of Jesus. While it demands more of us, if we choose to draw on the nature of Christ, we will end up making unique contributions to the body.
I often wonder if the conversation my friends and I had with that woman in the coffee shop might have gone differently if she had simply heard a group of guys talking about our king, Jesus, and not whether or not we were kings. I hope one day I get the chance to find out.
Luke Cirillo is director of development for Portland, Oregon's Pregnancy Resource Centers.
