There is a way of telling history that focuses on the impact of the few great figures that rise up in any generation. This “great man theory” says that history can best be understood when we focus on the dominant figures of the time. History, it says, turns on the actions, decisions, obsessions, and natural abilities of the few and the extraordinary—the Luthers, the Napoleons, the Lincolns, the Churchills. Understand them, and you understand the world as it was and the world as it has become.
I think Christians sometimes understand the church through a similar grid. We assume that the few figures who rise in prominence at any time are the key to understanding the church as a whole—that they in some way represent the Christian faith at that time. Hence if we tell the story of the church in the early twenty-first century, we may tell it through the lives and ministries of Sproul, Packer, MacArthur, Stott, and Piper. We assume that if we understand them, we have gained a representative understanding of Christians and ministries during their time. Understand them, we think, and you’re understanding all of us.
The great man theory has generally fallen out of favor among historians for a good number of reasons, among them that it’s too simplistic and that it’s difficult (or even impossible) to prove. That’s not to deny, of course, that some people have an outsized impact on any generation. It’s simply to deny that history revolves around the few rather than the many. And it’s to deny that the church depends on the few rather than the many.
We are thankful for preachers of extraordinary ability—the kind who step up to the podiums at the major Christian conferences or whose voice goes out over the airwaves. We are grateful for their ministries and grateful for all the ways we have benefited from their words. But at the same time, we know that the cause of the gospel would grind to a halt if it were not for 10,000 preachers of average ability—the kind who step up to pulpits in living rooms, school gymnasiums, and little churches far out into the countryside. Take away any one of those great men and the church would carry on unhindered; take away those ten thousand unknown men and the result would be catastrophic.
Similarly, we are thankful for those Christians of extraordinary wealth whose grand acts of generosity can make such a difference to churches and ministries. We enjoy reading about those individuals, families, or trusts who have made it their goal to give away vast amounts of wealth to the best of all causes. But if those families were to disappear or spend their last dollar, the church would survive just fine. However, if we were to take away the faithful giving of the ten thousands upon ten thousands who bring little more than their two copper coins, the ministry of the local church would be harshly hindered.
The most crucial work of ministry has little to do with “out there” in the wider Christian world and everything to do with “in here” in the local church.
We are thankful for the experts in marriage and parenting and a host of other important issues, experts who teach courses and lead seminars before great crowds. But most of us have had our marriages and parenting transformed far more by the examples before us each week in the local church. If the experts were to close down their seminars and shut down their conferences, the church would grieve for a moment, and then press on. But if the ordinary believers in your church and mine were to stop mentoring the people they see each and every Sunday, the church would be devastated. The most crucial work of ministry has little to do with “out there” in the wider Christian world and everything to do with “in here” in the local church. It has little to do with the few and the famous and far more to do with the many and the unknown.
It is good to thank God for those few men and few women who have been granted high podiums and wide ministries, and who have made their mark on so many of us. We truly thank the Lord for them. But they are not the story of what God is accomplishing in this world. The true story happens when the church gathers as God’s local community here and there, near and far, week by week. It’s in these little communities that God carries out the best of his purposes and in them that we see the strength of his hand.
