Boasting In The Lord

Let me begin with something that probably wouldn't surprise us.
An evangelist is being considered for a major crusade in another town. His résumé reads:
“Last crusade: 117 baptized.”
Another evangelist submits his résumé:
“Last crusade: 31 baptized.”

The first evangelist gets the invitation.
It sounds reasonable. Results matter.

But Paul gives us a question we may not be comfortable asking:
When does a measure of ministry become a measure of the minister?

But surely 117 is better than 31.

There were more baptisms. But what if five years later, 100 of those 117 have disappeared, while 28 of the other 31 have become mature, active disciples?
Which résumé tells the better story?

Then perhaps we're measuring what is easiest to count rather than what matters most.

Exactly.
We can count baptisms, attendance, offerings, and programs.
But who counts restored faith?
Who counts the person learning to trust Christ after years of doubt?
Who counts the quiet disciple becoming a servant?
The problem isn't counting.
The problem begins when the number becomes the scoreboard.

But isn't this especially relevant to us?
We recognize “centurians”—pastors or evangelists who baptize 100 or more. Conferences report baptism totals. Conferences can even compare which one baptized the most “souls.”
Are we not creating competition while preaching against pride?

That's the tension.
Celebrating fruitful ministry isn't wrong. Statistics can help evaluate mission.
But Paul says, “ They measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves.” He calls that unwise.
So the question isn't whether we should have goals.
It's whether our goals quietly become our identity.

Then, should we stop recognizing successful evangelists?

Not necessarily.
But perhaps we should change what we want to know.
If an evangelist's résumé says 117 baptized, that's useful information.
But shouldn't we also ask:
How many remained?
How many became disciples?
How many became servants?
How many were integrated into the life of the church?
Because the gospel doesn't end at the baptismal tank.

And what happens when the evangelist knows that big numbers bring invitations, recognition, and honour?
Could that create pressure to produce decisions?

It could.
I'm not accusing evangelists of manipulation. I'm pointing to the power of incentives.
If we reward decisions more visibly than discipleship, we shouldn't be surprised when decisions become the most visible part of ministry.
Paul wasn't building Paul's résumé. He was extending the gospel.

But Paul actually talks about his accomplishments and defends his ministry.

Yes—and that matters.
Paul isn't pretending he has accomplished nothing. He defends his ministry because the gospel is being challenged.
So humility isn't saying, “I have achieved nothing.”
Humility says:
“What God has accomplished through me does not make me the centre of the story.”
Paul's boasting points away from Paul.

Then let's bring it closer to home.
We believe we have a special message and identify ourselves as the remnant church.
Can even that become boasting?

It can.

• We can treasure our message without believing that possessing truth makes us superior.
• We can defend doctrine without defending our ego.
• We can defend the Sabbath without craving applause.
• We can defend the church without making the institution more important than Christ.

Being right does not automatically make our motives right.

Then, perhaps the test is personal.

Very personal.
Can I celebrate someone else's success without feeling diminished?
Can I serve faithfully when nobody notices?
For the pastor or evangelist, it may be baptism numbers, invitations and recognition.
For the ordinary member, it may be years of membership, positions held, committees served, offerings given, or simply being known as a “faithful member.”

But here's the hardest question:
If all of that disappeared, would I still know who I am in Christ?
Paul says, “ Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.”

Imagine standing before Christ with two résumés.
One says:
“Lord, look what I accomplished.”
The other says:
“Lord, look what You accomplished through me.”
The first seeks recognition.
The second gives glory.

And perhaps the greatest résumé isn't the one filled with baptisms, titles or achievements.
It is a life that, whether seen by thousands or by no one, points back to Christ.
Because when the applause is gone, Christ must still be enough.