Author: Higher Things

I commend to you Phoebe our sister, who is a servant of the church in Cenchrea, that you may receive her in the Lord in a manner worthy of the saints, and assist her in whatever business she has need of you; for indeed she has been a helper of many and of myself also. Romans 16:1-2 NKJV

Only two Bible verses describe her role, and only one mentions her name. While Saint Paul says very little about Phoebe, her service impacted the church in her time as well as the church today. The work that the Lord accomplished through Phoebe continues even in the Lutheran Church.

Described by Saint Paul as a “servant of the church,” Phoebe could also be entitled “deaconess.” The church has historically viewed her as one of the first women to serve in this vocation. While the daily routine of a deaconess can vary greatly, each shares Phoebe’s purpose as a helper. Just as Phoebe helped Pastor Paul, deaconesses today serve in a “helper” role.

The service of Phoebe and deaconesses centers on the Lord’s gifts. To find those, one need look no further than the church. It is through the pastor – one of God’s gifts to the church – that God’s forgiveness by the means of Word and Sacrament comes to us. A deaconess is defined by her relationship to the Office of the Public Ministry, which is held by the pastor. She, like Phoebe, is a helper.

The pastor proclaims the Word in his preaching, teaching, and through the public reading of Scripture. He distributes forgiveness in the body and blood of Jesus and proclaims salvation through the waters of Holy Baptism. He forgives sins in the name of Jesus. The pastor’s call is to distribute God’s good gifts – forgiveness and eternal life – which God has given to His bride, the church.

A deaconess helps the pastor by pointing the Good Shepherd’s sheep to those same gifts. She does not give them out like the pastor does, but rather points others back to the Office of the Public Ministry, held by the pastor. She does this through the teaching of the Faith, spiritual care, and acts of mercy. Deaconesses teach the Faith through Bible studies, Sunday school classes, and singing hymns. They provide spiritual care through shut-in visits, prison visits, and private counseling. Acts of mercy can include something as great as sheltering the homeless or as common as providing a shoulder to weep on, or a cup of water to drink.

Just as Christ is hidden in the water, bread, and wine in Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, He is also hidden in your neighbor. Consequently, as a deaconess serves her neighbor, she recognizes that she is, in fact, serving the Lord. He does not need her service; her service gains her nothing. Rather, it is the neighbor who is benefited by her good works, done in faith. The deaconess is motivated to this service by the love that was first shown her by Jesus, just as all Christians are motivated to “love because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19).

The work of a deaconess, like the work of Phoebe, does not strive for glory, but only to further God’s kingdom by pointing back to the great gifts which God has given to His church in His Son, our Lord, and Savior, Jesus Christ. These gifts are received through the pastor’s hands and mouth, where the body and blood of Jesus are given and the words of Holy Absolution are spoken. Thus, when a deaconess points those she serves to the pastor, she is pointing them to their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Deaconesses are not important or even necessary; Jesus is. Pastor Paul didn’t need Phoebe’s help, just as pastors today can preach and teach without a deaconess. And yet the church rejoices in receiving these women as another gift from the Lord.

Without God’s Word and Sacrament, the church is nothing. Because God promises to give His gifts through the Pastoral Office, the deaconess points God’s sheep to him. It is there, from the pastor who stands in the stead of Christ, that God’s people find forgiveness and salvation. It is there, in service to Christ, that a deaconess finds joy.

by Deaconess Sara Lemon

Chances are, if you’re a Christian youth, you’re also a student. From grade school, to high school, to college, youth spend the first big chunk of their lives undergoing formal education. That period of time can get even bigger when you factor in graduate school, law school, or seminary. In short, “school” is a constant presence in young people’s lives. We exist in an academic world of grades, test scores, and exams. For years, our whole lives revolve around getting a great ACT score, being accepted to the best colleges, and maintaining a stellar GPA. And yet, our performance in this academic life and “world” that we live in has virtually no bearing on our eternal home and the life of the world to come.

The trouble is, we so often don’t act in light of this. Our salvation has been won and we’ve been declared perfect by Jesus Christ. We already have the “one thing needful,” yet the world we live in tells us we still need to prove ourselves through our academic success. Don’t get me wrong—being a student is a God-given vocation, and thus we are called to fulfill this vocation faithfully as a means of honoring God’s gifts to us and serving our neighbor in the world. But like any of God’s gifts, we tend to pervert them and turn something good into bad. Going overboard in your vocation as student can easily become idolatry.

Christian youth today hear a lot about how their true identity is not in their clothes, their body image, their popularity, alcohol, or drugs. But for many youth, is it not a much more common temptation to find identity and fulfillment in academic performance? We tend to look at scholastic achievements and ambition as purely good, but as sinful human beings, we can twist even the positive accomplishments of the worthy vocation of student.

I was always a dedicated student, but when I began my freshman year of college, this focus took a turn for the worse. At college, my sinful nature, with its tendency to idolize academics, was more evident than ever. I became obsessed with getting perfect grades and was constantly comparing myself to other students. My own academic performance became everything to me. I started slaving away at my books until the early hours of the morning, and barely slept—abusing my body as a temple of the Holy Spirit and disregarding God’s gift of health and rest. I made God’s blessings of learning and education into merely a means to my own glory. I stopped doing things purely for the sake of truth and my fellow man and instead did activities and assignments as a means to give myself accomplishments and build up my resume. Everything—even God’s Word, worship, and serving my neighbor—played second fiddle to the all-consuming focus of myself and my academic accolades. I started ignoring the other vocations God had given me as daughter, granddaughter, sister, and friend by rarely talking to my friends, calling my family, or even serving or communicating with my campus neighbors and dorm-mates.

Of course, my tendencies haven’t miraculously stopped now that I am a sophomore. I will live with my sinful nature all my life, but I take comfort in the daily drowning of the Old Adam “by daily contrition and repentance…that a new man should daily emerge and arise” has helped me to continually repent of my idolatry and live in Christ’s forgiveness (SC IV).

Perhaps your obsession with academics hasn’t reached the extent of my idolatry. Perhaps it doesn’t seem that bad compared to other addictions. But don’t be fooled. Looking to anything other than God for fulfillment and identity is as damning as Baal worship. Repent of idolatry, even if it is only a slight tendency, and keep repenting. Say with St. Paul, “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Galatians 6:14 ESV). Sin doesn’t just disappear; while we are on earth, our old Adam continually battles our new man. Fortunately, however, our identity is no longer completely wrapped up in this old man. Neither is it found in our ACT score, our GPA, or any other sign of academic achievement.

Rather, our identity is found entirely outside ourselves, in Jesus Christ. We are no longer a mere number, such as a test score, but rather baptized children of God with our identity in Christ. As St. Paul writes, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me” (Galatians 2:20). We are defined not by our own glory and the things we do ourselves, but in Christ and what He did for us. When God looks at us, He doesn’t see us at all, but rather His precious Son. Your value is found not in grades or academic achievements, but in the price paid for you in pint after pint of Jesus’ holy precious blood and innocent suffering and death.

My freshman year in college was self-inflicted hell-on-earth: I relied on myself for success and thus had to drown again and again in failure and despair. I could never find peace and happiness and rest when I was trying to find fulfillment alone. True comfort and happiness can only come when Christ is our fulfillment.

Take comfort in the Gospel and look no longer for your identity in academics. Rather, look to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross. Give thanks always for God’s gift of education, but also for the greater gift of His Son’s death on the cross.

by Ramona Tausz