Free The Trellis and the Vine by Tony Payne, Colin Marshall Page A

ministry.
    What is training?
    A perennial difficulty in discussing ‘training’ (and many other subjects) is that the word has connotations in English that don’t always correspond with how the word is used in the Bible.
    In modern English, ‘training’ normally relates to becoming proficient in some practice or art or profession. By a mix of instruction, observation, practice and discipline, ‘trainees’ learn how to do something well—whether that’s running hurdles or becoming a soldier. ‘Training’ in our world is usually task-oriented, with a focus on the processes by which things get done. It emphasizes uniform and predictable responses that are learnt and reinforced by practice. When we undertake ‘workplace training’, we hope that the outcome will be a new level of proficiency in some aspect of our role.
    Ministry training can be like this as well—providing knowledge and skills so that Christians can learn how to do certain things. Along this line, many churches run ‘training courses’ to help people become more proficient at reading their Bibles, or sharing their faith with others, or welcoming newcomers, or leading small groups, and so on.
    This is good and useful, but it’s not the essence of ‘training’—at least not in the way the Bible thinks about it. In the New Testament, training is much more about Christian thinking and living than about particular skills or competencies. We see this in the pastoral epistles, in the words that are translated as ‘training’ in our Bibles.
    Imparting doctrine and life
    In 1 Timothy 4:7, for example, we find this instruction from Paul: “Have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness.” The Greek word here is gymnazõ , a word originally used in connection with athletics and contests. As a Christian minister, Timothy was to apply this metaphor of athletic training to his life and character, so that he and his hearers might progress towards maturity and righteousness. In Hebrews we find the same Greek word used in a similar way: “…solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil” (Heb 5:14). By contrast, false teachers have their hearts “trained in greed” (2 Pet 2:14). The focus here is on teaching and example, leading to a particular character of life rather than to a particular skill or competency.
    In 2 Timothy 3:16, the Greek word paideia is also translated as ‘training’: “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness”. This is the normal word for instruction or teaching intended to form proper patterns of behaviour (in this case, righteousness). It’s the same sort of training a father exercises over a son to mould his character—whether that’s God as our Father who disciplines us for our good (Heb 12:5, 7) or our human fathers who seek to train us in ways of the Lord (Eph 6:4).
    In the very next verse (2 Tim 3:17), the training concept is developed further. By being ‘trained’ in righteousness, the man of God is made competent or proficient by the Scriptures, which equip him for every good work. It’s the ‘training’ in righteousness that leads to the proficiency, but the proficiency here is not a particular skill—such as being able to teach clearly, or lead a small group, or whatever—but a quality of character and behaviour based on the sound doctrine of the Scriptures.
    The sound doctrine is vital. In the pastorals, a baton is being passed as in a relay—and that baton is the gospel itself. God entrusts the gospel to Paul (1 Tim 1:11-12), who in turn passes it on to Timothy (1 Tim 1:18-19; 6:11-14, 20-21). Paul now wants Timothy to do the same: to entrust what Paul has delivered to him to faithful people who will also be able to teach others (2 Tim 2:2).
    The heart of training is not to impart a skill,