“I’m in a real pickle, and I don’t relish it.” – Matthew
I’ll go ahead and remove the suspense: Matthew died this weekend.
He served as a pastor, bookshop curator, minister, chaplain, missionary, and friend.
Matthew never set out to be anyone’s mentor, but he was mine. He came along when I most needed someone who could relate to my individualistic soul, a fellow-loner who could listen to my rantings and offer me another piece of naan. He was also the most quotable person I ever knew.
“Being with you is like being alone.”
Ministry presents unique difficulties for introverts. Extroverts and those Myers-Briggs laodiceans view us as withdrawn or unloving. “Be Christlike,” they admonish, “and interact with everyone who comes along. After all, the Bible makes Jesus’ extroversion quite clear…He, at least, loved people.” Matthew taught me how to love those around me without surrounding them with a verbal deluge and without drowning under theirs. So long as it never became an excuse for not loving people, preferring small groups to large ones remained a viable ministry option.
“Had another religious experience in the shower this morning.”
Matthew always smiled unless thoughts pushed and shoved across the landscape of his face. His joy was not the “Yay, Jesus!!” that usually turns me off, reminding me as it does of a dime-store clown trying to sell helium balloons and electric clippers. He smiled when he grew sick, when he missed the last bus home, and most memorably when his water heater in northern Europe stopped working in January; a religious experience, indeed.
“Forgetting to pray or study in order to seek happiness? Holiness IS happiness.”
Matthew dragged me through the darkest period in my entire life. My sins and flaws, my ministerial failures and misfires – they all entangled and enmeshed me as I sank further than I thought possible. While I never listed the moral struggles lurking behind some of my problems, Matt brought to the surface key notions that effectively illuminated my failure to understand the crux of the matter. He illustrated how personal holiness was my duty, and the holiness of others was theirs, even if their failures hurt me more than anyone else. Of course, it took far too long for his lessons to sink in, but that’s on me, not him.
“It’s not so much that they tell you ‘As a Christian, you stink!’ as it is they lead you to a mirror and show you to yourself. You’re the one who says, ‘I stink!'”
Oh, he was brave. He did not use his sensitivity as an excuse to avoid painful moments and experiences, especially those designed for growth. He taught me to face, unafraid, the evaluations of others. Matthew’s lessons eventually helped me allow godly men and women to sift and weigh me. I grew bold, and lost my fear of moralistic mirrors.
“Do you see angels?”
We put away our fair share of Indian, Japanese, and Lebanese food together. We played word games, tested one another on movie trivia, and generally brothered one another. The third-to-last time we saw one another was at a pan-Asian buffet in Winston-Salem, NC. When I left the table for a second round at the trough, Matthew was contemplating a large bolus of wasabi lurking on the corner of his plate. I returned to find him staring blankly at nothing, a small bead of sweat working its way down his temple. He remained silent for at least 30 seconds before asking, “Do you see angels?”
No, Matthew, I don’t, but I suppose you do.
The lesson of Matthew’s relationship with me is not friendship or care: it’s mentorship.
Missiologists make an issue out of the Great Commission and how the verbs in the original Greek communicate something along the lines of “As you are going, do..” as opposed to “Go and do…” The command to make disciples depended more on incarnation than occupation. While mentoring someone can be an overt act, it most naturally pours out of character. It continues to be a measure of being, not doing.
Matthew’s position as a guide and mentor was existential; by existing as he was – he mentored. He couldn’t help it.
And in realizing this, I receive yet another lesson from my accidental mentor.
Perhaps both the best and worst opening line ever.
I take it that was a compliment, in a way only an introvert can understand?
Great article. I lost an “unintentional mentor” this week. He was a family friend of my wife for a decade before I met my wife–and my “unintentional mentor.” He was a true Renaissance Man: engineer, inventor, painter, incredible musician, and artist. He was my “first” deacon. He guided me through the troubled waters of my first church. He remained a dear friend until he died last week. I think you hit the nail on the head in regard to the “verb tenses” of the Great Commission. It will never be fulfilled by obeying a command, but by living out a… Read more »
It should be translated as “go,” not “as you go.” It is a participle of attendant circumstance and has the same imperative force as the main verb translated as “make disciples.” Thus, we should be intentional in evangelism and discipleship and not just wait for unexpected opportunities to present themselves.
While there is a good amount of truth in Ethan’s main thesis about being incarnational and discipleship resulting from 24/7 character in our everyday lives, Mike is right here about Matthew 28:19 and the Greek. It really should be translated “go.” And we do need to take a pro-active approach toward discipleship and to world missions.
So, does this mean we have to take an extroverted approach, or is there room for introverts?
I gladly bow to the greater knowledge of Greek displayed here. Now, to respond to Ben…. We are as we have been made, whether it’s introversion or extroversion. Since one cannot biblically prove a moral case against either personality I’d say there’s room for everyone. I completely reject the position of extroverts who have openly said to me, “Jesus was an extrovert, and we’re called to be just like Him. You need to examine yourself and see how you can change to be extroverted.” Who’s to say Jesus wasn’t naturally an introvert and His ability to handle mobs of people… Read more »
I agree totally.
As do I (obviously I acted as a straight man here). I’ve found Susan Cain’s ‘Quiet’ helpful, and while it’s a secular source of information, I think we should at least acknowledge that we live in a culture which has largely embraced the ‘Extrovert Ideal’, and we need to avoid bringing that into the church.
I’m no Greek scholar, but I am familiar enough with Greek to know that one cannot attach one grammatical rule, “attendant circumstance” for example, and ignore all other possibilities and the context. Secondary syntax does not carry the same weight as primary syntax. There is no syntactical certainty that requires these participles to be given the force of the main verb. The structure of the text very clearly supports the interpretation that the primary thrust of the “commission” is to “make disciples.” Setting this main verb in the context of three parallel participles clearly indicates to many interpreters that the… Read more »
Agreed.
The first participle, translated as “go,” is a participle of attendant circumstance. The second and third participles, translated as “baptizing” and “teaching” are participles of means.
Citation, Mike? Your own? Some scholar? Blog commenter fiat?
That is the Mike I know, and love. Straight to the point…love it!
Chris, you know me too well. William, here are some citations: You are probably familiar with Daniel Wallace at Dallas Theological Seminary. His textbook, Greek Grammar beyond the Basics, is used in quite a few seminaries. Wallace described the participle of attendant circumstance: “All five of the following features occur in at least 90% of the instances of attendant circumstance. . . . The tense of the participle is usually aorist. The tense of the main verb is usually aorist. The mood of the main verb is usually imperative or indicative. The participle will precede the main verb—both in word… Read more »
The NET also comes down on the side of ‘Go’, with, of course, a hefty translators note (this *is* the NET, after all) explaining what Mike has explained above.
Thanks for the references.
You got your go-to Greek guy…others have their’s. That’s what I thought. 😉
William,
I have been reading the comments and I was just wondering why you are so dismissive of Mike’s comments. Have y’all butted heads before? I have got to admit that I just did get your sarcastic tone.
Actually, John, I don’t know Mike. I thought his original, authoritative pronouncement that invoked obscure Greek syntax had some source and wanted to see it. I’m a Baptist preacher. I have a radar for overreach in biblical languages. It wasn’t dismissive and I appreciated his acknowledgment of other positions.
We all have our go-to people. Nothing new about that.
The bantering regarding greek terms is interesting but the article ministered mega grace as it warmed my heart by the keen insight expressed in the sincere reflection of how one mans life impacted the life of another.
I was encouraged and convicted.
I’m an “extroverting introvert” myself. I need down time from people quite often. I understand and appreciate your friend, and I’m sorry for your loss. He sounds like quite the powerful character.
Greek participles aside, I also appreciate the fact that ministry and evangelism isn’t stuck in one particular personality assessment, personal skill set, or stylistic approach. I don’t gotta be like you and you don’t gotta be like me.
I love meeting new people. I am extremely uncomfortable meeting people I used to know and am forced to reconnect with. Although I live in basically the same area I grew up in, I’ve successfully dodged old classmates for over 30 years.
The realization that I don’t have to be a “Bless your heart, praise the Lord-er” was a revelation. I always felt pressure to conform to some kind of cookie cutter Christian personality.