The Shepherd Who Runs

“No,” someone says. “A man is keeping the command when he flees from city to city.” That, at any rate, is the line a certain writer has chosen to take — himself a runaway — and others with him who would rather not understand what that saying of the Lord means, so that they can use it as a cloak for their cowardice. But the saying had its own people, its own times and its own reasons, and it belongs to them. He says, “When they begin to persecute you, flee from city to city.” We hold that this belongs specifically to the apostles, and to their times and their circumstances, as the sentences that follow show — sentences that fit nobody but the apostles: “Do not go off along the road of the Gentiles, and do not enter a city of the Samaritans; go instead to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But for us the road of the Gentiles is open too — it was on that road that we were in fact found, and we walk it to the very end; and no city has been left out. So we preach through the whole world. No special charge over Israel has been laid on us either; we are bound to preach to all nations alike. Yes, and if we are arrested we will not be hauled before Jewish councils or flogged in Jewish synagogues; we will certainly be summoned before Roman magistrates and their judgment seats. [a]

So the apostles’ own circumstances required the order to flee, since their mission was to preach first to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. It was so that this preaching could be carried right through among the people it had to reach first — so that the children might get the bread before the dogs — that he told them to flee for a time. The point was not to dodge danger under the plea that persecution presses hard on a man; on the contrary, he was in the habit of announcing that they would suffer persecution, and of teaching that it had to be endured. The point was to carry the good news further, so that if they were put down at once the spread of the message would not be stopped with them. And they were not to slip into a city as if by stealth, but as men who would be proclaiming their message everywhere — and therefore undergoing persecution everywhere — until they had finished their teaching. That is why the Savior says, “You will not have gone through all the cities of Israel.” So the order to flee was fenced in by the borders of Judea.

But no command that marks out Judea as the special field of preaching applies to us, now that the Holy Spirit has been poured out on all flesh. So Paul and the apostles themselves, remembering the Lord’s instruction, make this solemn declaration before an Israel they had by now filled with their teaching: “The word of God had to be spoken to you first; but since you push it away and do not judge yourselves worthy of eternal life, look — we are turning to the Gentiles.” And from that time they turned their steps away, just as those who had gone ahead of them had settled it, and went off along the road of the Gentiles, and entered the cities of the Samaritans — so that in plain fact their sound went out into all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. If, then, the ban on setting foot on the road of the Gentiles and entering the cities of the Samaritans has come to an end, why should the order to flee, issued at the same moment, not have come to an end as well? In fact, from the time when Israel had had its full measure and the apostles crossed over to the Gentiles, they neither fled from city to city nor hesitated to suffer.

Paul himself is the case. He had once accepted rescue from persecution by being let down over a wall, since at that time doing so was a matter of orders. Now, at the close of his ministry, with the injunction expired, he refused in the same way to give in to the anxiety of the disciples, who begged him hard not to risk himself at Jerusalem because of the sufferings Agabus had foretold for him. He did the very opposite. This is how he speaks: “What are you doing, weeping and breaking my heart? I could wish not only to be bound but to die at Jerusalem, for the name of my Lord Jesus Christ.” And they all said, “Let the will of the Lord be done.” What was the will of the Lord? Certainly not to flee from persecution any longer. Otherwise the people who had wanted him to keep out of persecution’s way could have brought up that earlier will of the Lord, in which he had ordered flight. So then: even in the apostles’ own day the order to flee was temporary, like the other orders issued along with it. A command that stopped with our teachers cannot go on with us, even if it had not been issued for them in particular. Or else, if the Lord meant it to go on, the apostles did wrong, since they took no care to keep fleeing to the last.

Let us look now at whether the rest of our Lord’s ordinances square with a standing command to flee. First of all: if persecution comes from God, what are we to make of being ordered out of its way by the very one who brings it on us? If he wanted it dodged, he had better not have sent it, so that there would be no appearance of one will of his being thwarted by another. [g]

For he wanted us either to suffer persecution or to run from it. If to run, how are we to suffer? If to suffer, how are we to run? What could be more inconsistent than decrees from one who orders flight and yet presses men to suffer, which is the exact opposite? “The one who confesses me, I will confess him too before my Father.” How will a man confess while running? How run while confessing? “The one who is ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of him too before my Father.” If I keep clear of suffering, I am ashamed to confess. “Happy are those who are persecuted for my name’s sake.” Unhappy, then, are those who by running away will not suffer as God commands. “The one who endures to the end will be saved.” How is it, then, that when you tell me to run, you want me to endure to the end? Views as opposed to each other as these do not fit the dignity of God; so they plainly show that the order to flee had a reason of its own at the time it was given — the reason we have pointed out.

But it is said that the Lord, making allowance for the weakness of some of his people, kindly held out the harbor of flight to them as well. As if he could not, without flight — a cover so cheap, so unworthy, so slavish — keep safe in persecution the people he knew to be weak! In fact he does not coddle the weak; he keeps rejecting them, and his first lesson is not that we should fly from our persecutors but that we should not be afraid of them. “Do not fear those who can kill the body but can do nothing to the soul; fear the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell.” And then what does he assign to the frightened? “The one who rates his own life higher than me is not worthy of me; and the one who does not take up his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Last of all, in the Revelation, he does not hold out flight to the cowardly. He holds out a wretched share with the rest of the outcasts, in the lake of fire and burning sulfur, which is the second death.

He did sometimes get out of the way of violence himself, but for the same reason that had made him order the apostles to do it: he meant to finish his ministry of teaching. And when it was finished — I will not say that he stood his ground; he had no wish even to take from his Father the help of armies of angels, and he found fault with Peter’s sword. [l]

It is true that he admitted his soul was troubled to the point of death, and the flesh weak. But his purpose in that was, first, that by having trouble of soul and weakness of flesh as his own he might show you that both substances in him were genuinely human — so that you would not, as certain people are now suggesting, come to think that Christ’s flesh or Christ’s soul was different from ours; and second, that by showing both in their own condition he might convince you that of themselves, without the spirit, they have no strength at all. That is why he puts the willing spirit first: so that, looking at what each of the two substances is by nature, you may see that you have the spirit’s strength in you as well as the flesh’s weakness, and may learn from this what to do, and by what means to do it, and what to bring under what — the weak, of course, under the strong. Then you will stop doing what you do now, making excuses about the weakness of the flesh, if you please, while keeping the strength of the spirit out of sight.

He also asked his Father that, if it were possible, the cup of suffering might pass from him. Ask the same favor yourself — but as he did, holding your position, simply making the request, and adding the other words too: “not what I want, but what you want.” But when you run away, how will you make that request? You will be taking the removal of the cup into your own hands, and instead of doing what your Father wants, doing what you want yourself.

The teaching of the apostles was in every respect according to the mind of God: they forgot nothing of the good news and left nothing out. Where, then, can you show that they renewed the order to flee from city to city? In fact it was flatly impossible for them to lay down anything so contrary to their own example as an order to flee, when it was out of chains, or out of the islands where they were confined for confessing the Christian name and not running from it, that they wrote their letters to the churches. [o]

Paul tells us to support the weak — but certainly not while they are running. How can a man who is not there be supported by you? By putting up with him? What he says is that people must be supported if they have gone wrong somewhere through weakness of faith, just as he tells us to comfort the fainthearted. He does not say that they should be sent into exile. When he urges us not to give room to evil, he is not suggesting that we take to our heels; he is teaching only that passion must be held down. When he says the time must be bought up because the days are evil, he wants us to gain a longer life by wisdom, not by flight. Besides, the man who tells us to shine as sons of light is not telling us to hide out of sight like sons of darkness. He orders us to stand firm — certainly not to do the opposite by running — and to be belted, not to play the runaway and work against the good news. He points out weapons, too, which men who meant to run would have no use for; and among them he notes the shield, so that you may be able to put out the devil’s darts — which of course means standing up to him and taking his attacks at their full force. In the same way John teaches that we must lay down our lives for our brothers; and much more, then, for the Lord. That cannot be carried out by men who run.

Finally, remembering his own Revelation, in which he had heard the sentence passed on the cowardly, and so speaking from firsthand knowledge, he warns us that fear must be put away. “There is no fear in love; perfect love throws fear out, because fear has torment in it” — the fire of the lake, no doubt. “The man who is afraid is not perfect in love” — the love of God, that is. And who will run from persecution except a man who is afraid? Who will be afraid except a man who has not loved?

Yes — and if you ask the Spirit for advice, what does he approve more than that word of his? For it urges almost everyone to go and offer themselves for martyrdom, not to run from it; so we will quote it too. “If you are put on public display, it is good for you. A man who is not dishonored in front of men is sure to be dishonored before the Lord. Do not be ashamed: righteousness is bringing you out where you can be seen. Why should you be ashamed of gaining glory? The chance is given you when you are before people’s eyes.” And elsewhere: “Do not wish to die on a marriage bed, or in a miscarriage, or in a soft fever, but to die a martyr’s death, so that the one who suffered for you may be glorified.”

But some pay no attention to the exhortations of God, and would rather apply to themselves that little Greek verse of worldly wisdom, “The man who has run away will fight again” — and perhaps run away again in the battle. And when is a man who is a runaway, and so a beaten man, going to be a conqueror? A fine soldier he supplies to his commander Christ: armed to the teeth by the apostle, and the moment he hears persecution’s trumpet he runs off from persecution’s day. I will bring a quotation from the world too, in answer: “Is dying such a wretched thing?” He has to die, whichever way it goes, either beaten or victorious. But even if he has gone under by denying, he has at least faced the torture and fought it. I would rather be a man to be pitied than a man to be blushed for. There is more glory in a soldier run through by a javelin in the fight than in one who keeps a whole skin by running. [u]

Do you fear a man, Christian? — you, who ought to be feared by angels, since you are to judge angels; who ought to be feared by evil spirits, since you have been given authority over evil spirits too; who ought to be feared by the whole world, since the world is judged by you as well. You are clothed with Christ, and you run away in front of the devil — you, who were baptized into Christ. Christ, who is in you, is treated as worth very little when you hand yourself back to the devil by turning runaway before him.

But since it is from the Lord that you are running, you are reproaching every runaway with the futility of his purpose. There was a bold prophet once who ran from the Lord. He crossed over from Joppa in the direction of Tarshish, as though he could carry himself out of God’s reach as easily as that. But I find him — I will not say on the sea and on the land, but in the very belly of a sea beast, shut up there for three days, unable either to find death or even so to escape from God.

How much better the conduct of the man who fears God’s enemy but does not run from him, and despises him instead, relying on the Lord’s protection — or, if you like, who stands in all the more awe of God the closer he has stood to him, and who says: “It is the Lord; he is strong. All things belong to him. Wherever I am, I am in his hand. Let him do what he wants — I am not going away. If it is his pleasure that I die, let him destroy me himself, while I am keeping myself for him. I would rather bring blame on him by dying at his will than get away through a temper of my own.”

That is how every servant of God ought to feel and act — even one in a lower place, so that he may come to a more important one, if he has made some step upward by his endurance under persecution. But when the men in charge themselves — I mean the very deacons and elders and overseers — take to flight, how will a layman be able to see the sense in which it was said, “Flee from city to city”? And with the leaders showing their backs, who from the rank and file will hope to persuade men to stand firm in the battle? [aa]

A good shepherd, most certainly, lays down his life for the sheep. So Moses said, when the Lord Christ had not yet been revealed but was already foreshadowed in him: “If you destroy this people, destroy me along with it.” And Christ himself, confirming these foreshadowings, adds: “The bad shepherd is the one who sees the wolf coming, runs, and leaves the sheep to be torn to pieces.” Why, a shepherd like that will be turned off the farm. The pay due to him at his discharge will be held back as damages; and out of his own savings besides, the master’s loss will be made good. For to the one who has, it will be given, and from the one who has not, even what he seems to have will be taken away.

Zechariah threatens the same: “Rise, sword, against the shepherds, and pull out the sheep; and I will turn my hand against the shepherds.” Ezekiel and Jeremiah both cry out against them with threats of the same kind — not only for wickedly eating the sheep, feeding themselves instead of the flock put in their charge, but also for scattering the flock and handing it over, with no shepherd, as prey to all the wild animals of the field. And this never happens more than when the church is deserted by its clergy in persecution. Anyone who recognizes the Spirit as well will hear him branding the runaways.

But if it does not become the keepers of the flock to run when the wolves come in — indeed, if it is absolutely not allowed, since the one who has declared a shepherd of this sort a bad one has certainly condemned him, and what is condemned has without doubt become unlawful — then on this ground it will not be the duty of those set over the church to flee in time of persecution. But otherwise, if the flock is to flee, the man set over the flock would have no call to hold his ground: standing there would be giving the flock protection for no good reason, since the flock would not need it, being free, we are told, to run.