What would Paul say about NAR Theology?

Note: The term NAR comes from Peter Wagner and refers to the New Apostolic Reformation. What is the difference between that and just a normal charismatic experience? NAR emphasizes the eschatology (End Times theology) of Dominionism—that we will take over the world and present it to Jesus when he returns. That's why Che Ahn is running for governor and why he proclaimed on January 5, 2020, the day before the insurrection, “We're going to rule and reign through President Trump and under the lordship of Jesus Christ." Lance Wallnau popularized this in his Seven Mountains theology. While this originally came from Bill Bright, where the emphasis was that we would influence people in every “mountain”—from government to the arts; we would be salt and light. But Wallnau’s version is that we are seeking to take over these mountains.

In NAR, there is also a definition of apostle and prophet that elevates them above the other gifts of pastor, evangelist, and teacher (Eph 4:11). They have super authority. They have the authority to make “apostolic decrees.” We don't see this in the New Testament. In fact, the New Testament emphasis is not that apostles and prophets are far beyond the average believer in terms of authority, but it is on the fact that every believer now has the Holy Spirit, and every believer can do the works of Jesus (John 14:12).

AN UNUSUAL OPENING

In opening his letter to the Philippians, Paul makes an unusual choice. Rather than identifying himself as an apostle—a title he claims elsewhere with authority—he introduces himself simply as a “slave of Messiah Jesus” (Philippians 1:1). In every other epistle, he is introduced as an apostle. This omission is not accidental. It is a deliberate rhetorical move that announces the letter’s central concern: the countercultural virtue of humility in a community threatened by the very pride that Roman culture cultivates.

THE ROMAN CONTEXT: HONOR AND STATUS

Philippi was no ordinary city. Established as a Roman colony in 31 BC and populated by retired military veterans, it embodied Roman values of honor, rank, and military prestige. The social hierarchy was rigid, the competition for status relentless. In such an environment, as John Barry notes, Paul’s self-designation as a “slave” would have been startling—even offensive. Slavery and the very idea of humility carried deeply negative connotations, precisely the kind of social death that ambitious Roman colonists would have despised.

Yet this is exactly Paul’s point.

THE PATTERN OF MESSIAH: DESCENT AND SERVANTHOOD

By calling himself a slave, Paul invokes the cruciform pattern at the heart of Messianic existence. In Philippians 2:7, Messiah himself “took the form of a slave” (doulos)—the same term Paul uses for himself in the greeting. This is no coincidence. Paul is establishing a theological trajectory: the pattern of Jesus becomes the pattern for all believers. Followers of Jesus are called to model his humility and willingness to be a slave, a humble servant willing to give their life for the community.

The scandal deepens when we consider what Jesus actually did. He left royalty for “dirty earth.” Imagine Prince Harry, not leaving the UK for Los Angeles, but Yemen—not only plagued by poverty, but a bloody civil war. Yeshua exchanged the worship due to God for the role of a servant who washed disciples’ feet in a former empire now under Roman domination. He descended from heaven’s throne to a criminal’s cross. In Roman terms, this was the ultimate humiliation—precisely what no self-respecting citizen would ever choose. Yet Paul presents this descent not as tragic but as the logic of redemption itself.

THE PRACTICAL PROBLEM: PRIDE IN THE COMMUNITY

The practical problems in Philippians confirm this diagnosis. Two women, Euodia and Syntyche, were quarreling (4:2)—a conflict rooted in wounded pride and competing claims to honor. Beyond this, the Philippian church was operating within the cultural machinery of the “honors circus,” where people fought for status and curried favor with patrons through public praise. Paul had to address not just individual sins but an entire social apparatus that turned the believing community into a competition.

The “honors circus” was deeply embedded in Roman culture. You sought to connect yourself to patrons who would boost your standing by supporting you, and you would repay them by singing their praises quite embarrassingly and in public. Seeking honor and awards was an accepted part of their culture. For the believers in Philippi, this competitive system for acquiring status and prestige was simply the air they breathed. When they gathered as a church, they brought these values with them—and the conflict between Euodia and Syntyche reveals how toxic the transplantation of such status-seeking could be within a community called to unity and mutual love.

FLIPPING THE SCRIPT: THE CALL TO RADICAL HUMILITY

His response was radical: flip the script. “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves” (2:3). This is not merely proverbial advice; it is a radical reorientation of values. In the Roman colony of Philippi, humility (valuing others above yourself) was not a virtue—it was suicide. Let me say this in the most extreme terms: Jesus’s washing the feet of his disciples was something 100% antithetical to the Roman path forward. Success meant taking it. Seizing it. The idea that humbling yourself to serve others would bring God’s favor on your life, endear you to those you serve, and be a great example to others was like telling somebody the key to a long life is jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge. It literally made no sense.

This is why Paul brings the Jesus Hymn into this letter and not the others. In essence, he is saying: “Surely you love Jesus? Right? Well, he did this. And he did it in the most radical way that one can.” We sing these words in worship, but do we understand how radical it was for Jesus to leave the glory of heaven for a broken earth?

You came from heaven to earth

To show the way

From the earth to the cross

My debt to pay

From the cross to the grave

From the grave to the sky

Lord, I lift Your name on high

It is this Jesus-type humility—abandoning honor, serving others, and seeking their interest above your own—that Paul is modeling. By refusing the title “apostle” and embracing the language of slavery, he demonstrates that authority in the kingdom of Jesus derives not from rank but from self-giving love. He becomes, in his own person, the antidote to the pride that would naturally flourish in a military colony. His example teaches what his words demand.

A MODERN WARNING: NAR AND THE CHARISMATIC HONORS CIRCUS

The problem with NAR theology is not the belief that apostles and prophets remain part of the Ephesians 4:11 leadership gifts (alongside evangelists, pastors, and teachers). The church needs apostolic leadership—visionary pioneers who plant churches, recover neglected biblical truths, oversee church councils to address controversy and false teaching, and provide governance for local congregations alongside other elders.

When we say “break new theological ground,” we don’t mean receiving extra-biblical revelation or adding to Scripture. Rather, we mean leaders who, through careful study of Scripture and the leading of the Spirit, recover doctrines that have been obscured or forgotten, or who apply biblical truth to new cultural contexts in ways that challenge the status quo.

Consider John Wesley, whose careful study of Scripture led him to recover the doctrine of sanctification—the progressive work of the Spirit to conform believers to the image of Messiah and liberate them from the dominion of sin—and to apply the gospel radically to the poor and marginalized, challenging the comfortable Christianity of his era. Or consider Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose theological work under Nazi persecution led the church to recover biblical teaching on costly discipleship and the necessity of believers’ resistance to evil—truths the comfortable church had buried. Neither claimed new revelation, but both mined the depths of Scripture and applied it prophetically to their moment. Bonhoeffer possessed the apostolic courage of Peter and John, and it cost him his life.

This kind of theological pioneering is legitimate and necessary. What is illegitimate is the claim that apostles today can receive new divine decrees outside of Scripture, or that their personal “words from the Lord” carry the same authority as the Word of God itself—a claim that has been made regarding the IHOPKC “Prophetic History.” The difference is crucial: one recovers and applies biblical truth; the other supplements it.

THE DANGER OF AN ELITE CLASS

Nor is the problem believing that miracles happen today. Jesus promised that his followers would do “greater works” (John 14:12), and any believer, not just apostles, can be used by the Spirit to heal the sick and cast out demons. The danger lies in the elevation of apostles and prophets to an elite class possessing super-authority to decree God’s will into existence, usher in the next level of revival, or pronounce judgment on politics and culture.

This false theology creates a new “honors circus”—a charismatic equivalent—where ministers fight for status and titles, bestowing them upon one another in an incestuous system of mutual validation. Having your face on a conference lineup and social media brings deep ego satisfaction, but has little to do with the kingdom of God. Then, just as in Philippi, they sing the praises of their patron who elevated them to apostolic status.

But here is the corrective: an apostle should be known for their humility, not their authority—their willingness to be held accountable, not for covering up their (and others’) sin. If the Spirit genuinely calls someone to apostolic leadership, that calling will be evident in their willingness to serve, their refusal to lord their position over others, and their eagerness to equip believers for works of ministry rather than to hoard power for themselves. Paul refused to leverage his apostolic authority in Philippi precisely because unity and mutual love were more important than the assertion of rank. His restraint speaks louder than any title ever could. True apostolic authority is never self-proclaimed or peer-promoted; it emerges from a life poured out in service.

This attitude stands in direct opposition to Paul’s approach. He could have presented himself as an apostle to the Philippians, leveraging his authority to command their obedience. Instead, he chose to emphasize humility, modeling the very servanthood he demanded of them. His restraint speaks louder than any title ever could.

In Corinth, where his apostolic authority was being actively challenged by false apostles, Paul had to defend his credentials (2 Corinthians 11-12). But in Philippi, where unity and mutual love were the battleground, Paul’s silence about his apostleship was more powerful than any proclamation. It was his answer to pride itself.

CONCLUSION: THE SHAPE OF THE CROSS

This is the revolutionary heart of Philippians: in a world obsessed with climbing, Jesus descends. In a culture measuring worth by honor, he accepts shame. And those who follow him must do the same. Humility, for Paul, is not a personality trait to be cultivated; it is the shape of the cross itself, impressed upon the community of believers. When we grasp this—when we truly understand that the servant becomes the measure of greatness in God’s kingdom—we begin to see that the honors circus, whether Roman or charismatic, is ultimately a stage built on sand. Only the cruciform life, the life that descends to lift others up, stands eternal.