When we look at the story of Jesus and his disciples, one thing stands out immediately. None of them were institutionally qualified for priesthood. Jesus himself was not a Levite, nor did he carry the credentials that temple authorities would have recognized. His disciples were fishermen, tax collectors, and common laborers. They came from ordinary walks of life and had no claim to religious prestige. Yet they became the foundation of a movement that reshaped the world.
The contrast with the Pharisees and scribes could not have been sharper. These were the learned figures, the guardians of the law, the ones who could recite Scripture and interpret it with skill. But the Gospels repeatedly show how their very knowledge and authority became a stumbling block. Rather than opening them to God’s truth, it blinded them. Their pride in their discipline and religious lives became an obstacle to humility and love.
This tension runs throughout the New Testament. Paul later reminded the early churches that God often chose the unlearned to humble the learned, the weak to confound the strong. The priesthood of Christ was not a matter of official status, but of faith and obedience. Authority did not come from scrolls or schools, but from the Spirit. That is why the ordinary workers who followed Jesus were able to speak with authority far beyond their social position.
Knowledge and Authority
Yet knowledge and authority are not inherently wrong. Paul, after all, was highly educated. He knew the Scriptures intimately and could argue with philosophers and rabbis alike. In his letters, he also instructed believers to respect rulers and honor those in positions of authority. The danger was never knowledge itself, but the pride that could come from it.
In modern times, training and ordination have become standard for those entering ministry. Seminaries and theological schools serve as important safeguards, ensuring that pastors and priests are grounded in doctrine, history, and pastoral care. These systems exist for good reasons. But they can also unintentionally create barriers, turning spiritual calling into professional gatekeeping.
The effect can be subtle. A young believer may feel that their testimony is insufficient until they have studied enough. A sincere follower of Christ may hesitate to share the Gospel because they have no license or certificate. The spirit of the Pharisees can slip in, even in communities that claim to honor freedom. This tension reminds us that while learning is valuable, it must never silence the voice of the ordinary believer.
The Reformation’s Bold Claim
The Protestant Reformation was born out of this very struggle. In the sixteenth century, the Church’s authority had grown immense. Priests held the keys to forgiveness, sacraments, and Scripture. Ordinary believers had little direct access to God’s Word. Luther’s cry of the priesthood of all believers shattered that monopoly.
This doctrine was radical in its simplicity. Every believer, Luther argued, had direct access to God. Every Christian was empowered to pray, to interpret Scripture, to baptize, and to bear witness. The priesthood was not confined to a select few, but belonged to the entire community of faith. The wall between clergy and laity was broken.
The impact was profound. Translations of the Bible spread into common languages. Families began to read Scripture together. Small gatherings took on the character of church life, even outside official structures. The authority of faith shifted from the cathedral to the community, from hierarchy to fellowship. This was not the rejection of order, but the re-centering of the Gospel as a shared calling.
The Church as Gathering
At the heart of this shift lies the word ekklesia, the Greek term that we translate as church. Its meaning is simple: assembly, gathering, community. The early Christians met in homes, shared meals, prayed together, and encouraged one another. There were leaders, but the essence was never in buildings or offices. The essence was in gathering around Christ.
This same spirit can be seen in modern house churches and small Bible study groups. A handful of people in a living room, reading Scripture and praying, are already church in the truest sense. The size of the group does not define its holiness. The act of gathering in Christ’s name does.
From such small beginnings, some communities grow into megachurches. A charismatic leader or compelling ministry may draw thousands. Yet this growth is not proof of greater blessing. It is simply one possible outcome of a gathering. The essential truth remains the same whether there are five people or five thousand.
The Neutrality of Success
It is easy to think that worldly success equals divine favor. A church with many members, a polished building, or a global reputation may appear more blessed than a small group meeting quietly in a hidden home. Yet Scripture consistently warns against equating size with righteousness.
In places where Christianity is persecuted, believers often meet underground. Their gatherings are secret, their numbers few, and their visibility nonexistent. Yet their faith may burn with a depth and courage that puts large congregations to shame. Conversely, large churches may find themselves wrestling with pride, consumerism, or the temptation to measure holiness in terms of budgets and influence.
Success, then, is neutral. It is neither a guarantee of blessing nor a sign of corruption. It is a condition that tests the heart of a community. What matters is whether the focus remains on Christ, whether humility is preserved, and whether the Gospel is lived out in sincerity.
The Everyday Priest
Here we reach a bold and liberating thought. The priesthood of all believers does not require that anyone abandon their trade to become a full-time pastor. In fact, the very notion of ministry as a prestigious profession can be dangerous. Jesus worked as a carpenter. Paul, though a scholar, also worked as a tentmaker to support his mission. Their priesthood was not cut off from ordinary life, but woven into it.
This is an important reminder for today. Many Christians dream of becoming pastors after retirement, planning to attend seminary as a second career. While this is admirable, it risks missing the truth that priesthood does not require delay. One can be a priest today, this morning, in the midst of work, study, or family life. There is no need to wait for institutional approval.
To live as an everyday priest is to recognize that testimony and service can happen anywhere. Encouraging a colleague, praying with a friend, writing a reflection, or caring for a neighbor are already priestly acts. These moments do not need a title to be authentic. They only need sincerity.
Writing as Priesthood
The digital age has opened a new path for this everyday priesthood. Writing, once confined to books and sermons, can now travel instantly across the world. A personal essay, a thoughtful reflection, or even a short message online can reach readers in distant places.
When we write about faith with honesty, we perform a priestly act. Our words mediate truth, comfort, and encouragement. Our readers, even if unseen, form a kind of virtual ekklesia. They may be few in number, but the presence of faith makes the gathering real.
This is where the priesthood of all believers finds new expression. A believer without ordination, without formal training, can still minister through writing. A reflection posted in the morning may touch a reader across the globe. This is not prestige. It is not fame. It is simply priesthood in action, carried through words.
A Humble Manifesto
Bringing these threads together, we arrive at a vision of priesthood that is both ancient and fresh. It is not confined to institutions, though institutions may help. It is not measured by success, though success may come. It is not a full-time career, though some may be called to that path.
The priesthood of all believers is a call to humility, service, and faith in ordinary life. It asks us to resist pride in knowledge or authority, and to remember that God delights in using the unqualified to reveal His wisdom. It asks us to embrace our daily vocations, whether carpentry, tentmaking, business, or writing, as platforms for priesthood.
To live this truth is to carry the Gospel wherever we are. A word spoken in kindness, a reflection written with care, a prayer whispered in faith, all become priestly acts. The church is not only in buildings or denominations, but in gatherings large and small, physical and digital, formal and informal.
So we can say with confidence: you can be a priest today. You can be a pastor this morning. You do not need to wait for retirement, a license, or recognition. If you live your faith sincerely, if you share the Gospel in word or deed, you are already part of this universal priesthood. That is the freedom and responsibility that the Reformation reclaimed, and that the Spirit continues to breathe into the world.
Image: A photo captured by the author
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