The Way of the Dragon or the Way of the Lamb: Searching for Jesus’ Path of Power in a Church that Has Abandoned It

By Jamin Goggin and Kyle Strobel

Pastor Jamin Goggin and theology professor Kyle Strobel invite you on a journey to uncover Jesus’ seemingly contradictory way to power: weakness.

Why do so many rock-star pastors implode under the spotlight? How have so many Christian leaders and institutions been lured by toxic and abusive power? Why are so many Christians tempted to chase worldly success and status? Because, according to Jamin Goggin and Kyle Strobel, rather than seeking kingdom power embodied by Jesus, we have embraced a form of power that is antithetical to the cross.

In The Way of the Dragon or the Way of the Lamb, Goggin and Strobel paint a richly biblical vision of power through weakness. This revised and updated edition features a brand-new chapter for those who’ve been impacted by toxic and abusive power. Join the authors on a journey to gather wis­dom from great sages of the faith such as J. I. Packer, Dallas Willard, Marva Dawn, John Perkins, James Houston, and Eugene Peterson. Listen in on their conversations to rediscover the wisdom of the cross and the power that truly sets us free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: Aug 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781400225248

Jamin Goggin

Jamin Goggin serves as a pastor at Mission Hills Church. He has been in pastoral ministry for eleven years, including several years as the Pastor of Spiritual Formation at Saddleback Church. Jamin speaks and writes in the areas of spiritual formation, ministry and theology. He holds two Masters degrees and is currently earning a PhD in systematic theology. He lives in Southern California with his wife, Kristin, and their three children.          

Book preview

INTRODUCTION: SEEKING THE WAY

THE STREET WAS BUSIER THAN USUAL, BUT I (KYLE) DIDN’T think much of it. Our ministry team shouldered through the crowds as only American high school students do, oblivious to the signs that all was not well. It was in the midst of laughter that my eyes slammed closed and tears cascaded down my face. Screams and shouts seemed to come from every possible direction. As I felt shoulders rubbing against mine, I ran—attempting to keep contact with the mob that was rushing somewhere. But as quickly as the running started, it stopped, and suddenly I was alone. I tried opening my eyes but experienced a deep burning and acidic tears that seemed to worsen the pain. I stood still, convinced that no movement was better than blind movement.

My eyes were on fire. I bent over and pressed my palms to my face. Even though rubbing hurt, I hoped tears might wash away the feeling. The voices I recognized were now distant, moving to my left, and I heard more screams behind me. Then there was another noise, a much more ominous one. Click . . . Clack . . . Click.

I stood up, still rubbing my eyes. Some light came through the tears. As I pressed my forearm to my face, I still heard the click, clack, clicking all around me mixed with screams and muffled yells from my friends. I finally squinted my eyes open. The tears abated slightly as the burning subsided. I could finally make out the source of the ominous noise. Rocks flew through the air toward me, click, clack, clicking to my right and left, in front and behind. A mob of people walked toward me, just past a bus that lay on its side in flames. I didn’t move. The scene felt familiar from images I’d seen on television, but I wasn’t safe on a couch thousands of miles away; I was twenty yards from an angry mob with bats and rocks.

I had been hit with a cloud of tear gas, but it was only the edge of the cloud. Our group had run headlong into a mob, which had been driven to riot by conditions in the poorest neighborhood of the Dominican Republic. As I stood frozen in place in the middle of the street, I saw a man throw rocks over houses, trying to hit my friends as they fled down the side street. Then I saw a man pick up a bottle without ever unlocking his eyes from mine. He cocked back his arm to throw, and I ran. I ran until the click, clack, clicking stopped.

When our team eventually found its way back to our camp, we sat in silence at picnic tables under a metal awning, replaying the day in our minds. The street where the riot occurred was just over the wall, no fewer than fifty feet away, but by now the sounds of the mob were well in the distance. The pride, arrogance, and bravado normally displayed by my high school buddies were gone, and in their place was a shell-shocked perplexity.

Up to that point, the mission trip had been a typical one. A bunch of upper-middle-class kids traveled to a place with real poverty, did some hard labor (but not very well), and spent a lot of money on useless trinkets to bring home. Everything had followed the script, but the day’s events jolted our comfort and shook our confidence. The day also revealed something about me: My weakness had been exposed. I sat on a picnic bench, staring off in the darkness, and thought about that man whose eyes locked with mine. The fear I had felt at that moment remained with me. But as much as I felt my own impotence, I could also imagine that man’s helplessness. There was a desperation in his face and his actions that I could feel, and it was far beyond anything that my privileged self had known. As I considered the pain that drove him to pick up that bottle, I felt small. The evil embedded in his circumstances was great, and my prepackaged solutions seemed silly in the face of such despair.

DESIRING POWER

I have had several moments like this in my life, epiphanies that burst my bubble of self-assurance and control and revealed the truth of my frailty. These moments are always invitations from God to walk in a different way, one of dependence on him. In truth, my heart has not always accepted such invitations, but instead has grasped for power and control.

This hunger for power was reinforced by four years of high school athletics, playing for a team that didn’t lose much. I had learned to equate winning with work ethic. If you put in the hard work, you should win. Winning, of course, was the goal. What was the point of playing if you weren’t focused on winning? As I started Bible college, I quickly discovered that I could apply the approach I learned from sports to academics and receive the very accolades and praise I was so desperate for.

I had healthy intentions to be faithful and grow in Christ. But my desire for power was stronger than those intentions, and my desire came to the surface quickly. The words of Jesus were thorns piercing open my flesh. At every turn, my grandiosity was exposed. I wanted to control reality, to create a self that would thrive in the world, while Jesus said, Take up your cross and follow me (Matt. 16:24 CEV). I wanted to be cutting-edge and savvy, knowing the right people and being accepted in the right circles, while Jesus said, The last will be first, and the first last (Matt. 20:16), and warned against imitating the Pharisees who love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats (Matt. 23:6). I wanted to come up with a way to prove my value to people who doubted me, to prove my worth to people who thought I had nothing to offer, while Jesus said, Apart from me you can do nothing (John 15:5). I wanted to do something big. I wanted to create a name and a legacy. I wanted to make a difference. In the midst of this Jesus said, One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much (Luke 16:10).

Both Jamin and I were confronted with this tension in our early years of seminary and ministry life. We excelled academically and professionally and were touted as young, up-and-coming voices in the church. We were invited into places of leadership beyond our emotional or spiritual maturity. And yet we were continuously confronted by the biblical understanding of power. The Bible’s vision of power in weakness and suffering for the sake of the gospel didn’t harmonize very well with our quest for power, influence, and ministerial acclaim, yet somehow we managed to avoid facing this tension. We overlooked truths despite staring right at them. Too busy basking in the glow of success, we failed to consider the biblical vision of power as a viable option.

Then came a season when we both experienced failure rather than success. Instead of being in the right circles, we felt the sting of rejection and isolation. Our work ethic and willpower couldn’t change our circumstances. Our résumés and talents—where we had placed our hope—didn’t deliver. We believed we were following a genuine calling from God into ministry, and we believed we were being faithful to that call: going to seminary, taking our time, and growing in maturity. But God revealed clearly that beneath the surface we were desperate for power. God led us into the truth of our hearts, revealing how deeply and pervasively pride drove our lives and how much we relied upon our own strength.

We are both grateful for this season. It was a gift. The grace of God saved us from ourselves. Jesus’ words echoed ominously in our hearts: For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? (Mark 8:36). We saw friends who were thrust into positions of leadership too early, only to fall hard and lose their families, jobs, and dreams of ministering. We saw the foolishness of youth—a foolishness we shared—ruin lives, devastate churches, and fracture relationships. The Lord saved us from this. It was not our cunning or our strategic life plans that led us through this particular wilderness. It was the mercy of God.

CHRISTIAN POWER

Over time we have come to see that the way of power commended in Scripture is not the way of power we have seen in evangelicalism. Our initial question was simple. What does Christian power look like? But as we moved deeper into our inquiry, more disturbing questions rose to the surface. What happens if the church rejects the power of Christ? What happens when Christians embody a worldly approach to power and try to use that to advance Christ’s kingdom? What happens when believers live their lives according to a power that is antagonistic to Christ?

Two decades removed from my trip to the Dominican Republic, I saw the complexity concerning power increasing rather than decreasing. The mob scene that engulfed me for but a few minutes gave me a glimpse into deep, complex, and dark elements of dehumanization and oppression the people of that country have long experienced. What still overwhelmed me was the sense of helplessness I felt in the face of such evil. The riot I experienced was the fruit of corrupt and oppressive systems of power that had impacted the people on the ground. What could I possibly do to help?

What became clear is that I did not know how to stand firm amid the stark realities of this present evil age (Eph. 6:12). I began to realize that our view of power is an issue undergirding all that we do as Christians. We are called to be a people of power, certainly, but ours is a kind of power antithetical to the power of the world. So what does it mean to employ the power of Christ? What happens when the power of Christ comes head-to-head with the powers of evil? What happens when we feel this conflict, even within our churches? These became the driving questions for Jamin and me as we embarked on a journey of discovery for which neither of us was prepared.

PART 1

DISCOVERING THE WAY

CHAPTER 1

THE WAYS OF POWER

I (JAMIN) HAD BEEN IN MINISTRY LONG ENOUGH TO HEAR the stories. It’s a familiar narrative these days: pastors disqualified from ministry due to moral failure. For years I had listened to devastating tales of infidelity and broken families in the lives of fellow pastors. My immediate reaction, in all honesty, was typically swift judgment. I mentally distanced myself from such pastors, believing I was cut from a different sort of spiritual cloth than such sinners. How on earth could this happen? How could anyone, let alone a pastor, ever do such a thing? These stories, while far too commonplace, were quite removed from my immediate life and church world. I couldn’t imagine any of my pastoral peers ever experiencing such a fall from grace.

Then it happened. I remember the phone call vividly. A dear friend, a fellow pastor, called me to confess his infidelity and ask for prayer amid the consequences he was going to face from the leadership of his church. As he talked I felt numb. The shock of the moment gripped me in a way I had never experienced. I knew this man. I thought I knew him well. All of a sudden, I found myself living in one of those distant stories.

A few days later we met. My friend shared his grief, his pain, and his overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. I listened. As he continued to share his heart, I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. Not uncomfortable in the way you might imagine. I didn’t squirm at the details of his sin. Rather, something in what he shared struck a chord in my own heart. I couldn’t conveniently distance myself from his sin.

As he talked about the dynamics that contributed to his infidelity, at the forefront were pride, status, and grandiosity. While there were unhealthy dynamics in his relationship with his wife, his hunger for power had played a large part in this painful and tragic saga. He recently had been promoted to a significant leadership position and was being showered with the affirmation and accolades that went along with it. The recognition and status he had received emboldened an already unhealthy desire for power and a vision for pastoral life informed by his own grandiosity and quest for significance. In recent months he had incrementally given himself over to such things, and as a result was doing ministry apart from dependence upon Christ. As he invited me into these deeper channels of his heart, I found myself all too familiar with the current. I knew the temptations of status and recognition. I was well acquainted with the hunger for power he spoke of and the temptation to craft a false self worthy of praise. I could not distance myself from such a horrible sinner because I could see the ingredients of such behavior in my own heart.

For years Kyle and I had no trouble looking critically upon others in their quest for power. We bemoaned the rock-star pastors who were in the spotlight, whose churches appeared to be more concerned with growing their brand than proclaiming the gospel. This is the first temptation of power: We view the problem as out there. We recognize it in other churches, pastors, fellow Christians, or political and cultural leaders, but we ignore the problem in our own hearts. For Kyle and me personally, this remains a strong temptation. As men with a calling to teach and lead, we can often default to analyzing the error of others without honestly assessing the truth about ourselves.

Accordingly, it is easy to allow the word power to trigger a mental list of tyrannical and narcissistic leaders. Likewise, it can be much harder to find examples of those who have embraced power properly. Mother Teresas are rare. In a fallen world, this is reality. In contrast, our first inclination should not be to identify the problem of power as somewhere out there, but as in here, within our own hearts. Jesus says, You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye (Luke 6:42). We find it much easier to become burdened and angered by sins that are not our own. When those sins are committed by those in leadership, we find it even easier. Notice, Jesus is not saying the solution is to ignore the sins of others. We should name sins, just as Jesus did. However, we must recognize that only after naming the truth of our own sin can we come in grace and truth to name the sins of others. Only when we see the truth of ourselves can we have mercy to address others in God’s grace. As those forgiven by God, we pray, Forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us (Matt. 6:12 NLT).

During my tenure as a pastor in the last decade, I have had a front-row seat to witness beauty in the church. I have seen lives transformed, relationships healed, and the outcasts of society loved. However, my years in the church have also given me enough time to see abuse. I have seen leaders in the church destroy the careers of other staff members because they viewed them as threats to their authority. I have known pastors who focus their energy on the members of the church with money and influence while neglecting the rest of the congregation. More importantly, I have felt the weight of the log in my own eye. I have seen my thirst for power driving my ministry. I have viewed other pastors as competition and the church as a means of self-glory. I have acted in ways that place me alongside the powermongers I so readily critiqued.

Paradoxically, as I began to acknowledge my longing for power, another temptation appeared in my heart. I became tempted to reject power altogether. It simplifies things quite a bit if we can reject power wholesale, viewing any position of influence as intrinsically evil. For our generation—which is drowning in a sea of political, social, and religious examples of power gone awry—this is an alluring temptation. The abuse of power seems pervasive, committed even by the people we expect to love us and care for us the most. Some of us have been abused, misled, and manipulated by shepherds who turned out to be wolves. Abuses have caused some to leave the church altogether. It is difficult to return to the house where you were abused.

As painful as our experiences in the church may have been, we must avoid the temptation of viewing power itself as bad. From the moment of creation God intended for people to have power. Adam and Eve were given rule and dominion over creation by God himself (Gen. 1:28). Part of being created in God’s image is having the power to shape the world around us.¹ Power is a grace of God. And as a grace, it is not generic, but a part of God’s self-giving. Grace is God’s giving of himself to his people, and in Christ, we come to receive the kind of power God offers: the power of the cross.² This is a power known through death and resurrection—moving through our weakness to a new kind of strength—strength in abiding in, submitting to, and resting in God alone.

Power is the capacity to affect reality. We human beings have the capacity to physically, emotionally, and spiritually influence the world around us. God has given us this capacity for good—to glorify him and bless the world. But as Christians, our primary interest is not simply in affecting reality. Our primary interest is to bear fruit of the kingdom—the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22–23). We were not created to pursue power as an end in itself, but rather to pursue God, the powerful one, and abide in his power to bless the world. But because of our sin, our ability to use power is disordered and is damaging the world around us. Just as Adam and Eve grasped for power apart from God, so do we. Just as Cain wielded his power to destroy his perceived competition, so do we. A way of power exists that is good, true, and beautiful; but there is also a way of power that is evil, false, and ugly. After the fall, two ways of power are always before us. Even those of us who are followers of Jesus will be tempted to embrace the sinful way of power rather than the way of power embodied on the cross. We may happily receive the good news of Jesus’ cross, but we often shy away from his call to pick up our own.

THE WAYS OF POWER

You are so wise and powerful. Will you not take the Ring?

No! cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly. His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused.³

In J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, the wizard Gandalf is the embodiment of true wisdom, but his wisdom may appear foolish—as when he refuses to take the ring of power. Gandalf is powerful, yet his is a power found in weakness.⁴ Other characters reject Gandalf’s way, believing that the only way to truly defeat the enemy is by wielding the ring. But in the end they are unmasked as fools. Their eyes can see worldly power, but they are blind to the power of wisdom.

As with Middle Earth, so with our world. Two ways of power are presented to us. Only one is the true path of wisdom. James unfolds these opposing ways:

Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace. (James 3:13–18)

James draws here from a long biblical tradition of wisdom literature. Earlier in the letter, James says that wisdom is to be desired and that it has one source, God, who gives wisdom and delights in doing so (James 1:5). As with all good gifts, wisdom comes from above (James 1:17). Godly wisdom is not achieved, but is received. This way from above has descended in the person of Christ, who is the power and wisdom of God (1 Cor. 1:24). Wisdom is not essentially about making right decisions, but about living by the power of God in Christ Jesus. Wisdom and folly are right and wrong ways not only of thinking, but also of living in the world. There are two paths, but only one is the path of true wisdom and power.

According to James these two paths are the way from above and the way from below. They are two opposing ways of power in the world. These ways of power are distinguished first by their source. The way from above is power from God. The way from above is embracing God’s power and depending upon him. As we will see in the next chapter, embracing God’s power involves embracing our own weakness and abiding in Christ (John 15:1–5). Conversely, the way from below is a rejection of God’s power and a dependence upon ourselves in sinful autonomy. The way from below rejects abiding in God in favor of our own willpower, turning to the power of the self to make a difference in the world. Ultimately the source of this power, as we will see in chapter 4, is the world, the flesh, and the devil.

As important as our source of power is, we cannot simply ask where power is from. We also have to ask, What is power for? These are two sides of the same coin, even as they are distinct questions. The way from above and the way from below are distinguished not only by the source of power, but also by the fruit or results of power. The way from above is power for love. As we walk the way from above, our lives are pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere (James 3:17). By contrast, the way from below is power for the sake

Reviews for The Way of the Dragon or the Way of the Lamb

[stevodresen · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Way of the Dragon or The Way of the Lamb by Jamin Goggin and Kyle Strobel is a much-needed book. One doesn’t have to look to far to see how many have fallen in their chase after fame in evangelical circles.There is a subtle line in ministry between a desire to have a wide reach for the sake of making the gospel known and having a wide reach so that we are known. In this work wisdom and insight is drawn from J.I. Packer, Dallas Willard, Marva Dawn, John Perkins, Jean Vanier, James Houston, and Eugene Peterson. In a day and age where evangelical leaders are more concerned in building personal platforms based on their personalities the authors and those they draw from provide a helpful corrective.The first part of this book in which the authors interact with J.I. Packer, Marva Dawn, and John Perkins provides a helpful contrast between a worldly pursuit of power and God’s power demonstrated in human weakness and love. The second section of the book helps the reader understand how to embrace way of Christ in ministry. In a church culture that entices pastors to fixate on platforms and popularity this serves as a powerful corrective.The most important chapter in this book in my opinion is the seventh chapter as it fully explores the terrible reality that many churches and leaders have adopted the posturing of the dragon as seen in revelation as opposed to way of ministry that is faithful to Christ. Small church pastors might think themselves immune to the temptations for power that are evident in many mega church personalities, but the truth is the temptation to build a ministry that elevates self is found in churches of all shapes and sizes. This book should be required reading for anyone in ministry.Disclosure: I received a copy of the book from the publisher for the purpose of reviewing it. The opinions I have expressed are my own, and I was not required to write a positive review.