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THEME: Leading with Love
Andreas J. Kӧstenberger & David Crowther
Introduction
At the outset of this chapter, it should be frankly acknowledged
that the Johannine Letters were not originally intended
primarily to provide a theology of leadership. Nevertheless, a
closer examination of these three letters reveals the way in
which the author relates to and provides leadership for the
people in the congregations to which the letters are written. The
author’s relationship with his recipients in these three letters
does not directly correspond to a modern model of leadership
because of his unique role in the churches to which he is
writing. Yet his faithful and caring relationship can provide an
example to Christian leaders in every age. In order to grasp the
lessons on leadership in the Johannine Epistles, one must
consider the identity of the author of these letters, the source of
his authority, his relationship with his audience, and the nature
of the conflict addressed in his third letter.
Original Setting
The Authorship of the Letters
The author of 1, 2 and 3 John is never named except for the title
“elder” in 2 and 3 John. The early church accepted all three
letters into the canon in the belief that John the apostle, the son
of Zebedee, was the author.[1] While the author of these letters
was doubtless known to his initial readers, the modern reader is
indebted to the early church for preserving the tradition of

authorship. Sources from the late second and early third
centuries, such as the Muratorian Fragment (c. ad 180) and
church fathers Tertullian (c. ad 160–215) and Clement of
Alexandria (c. ad 155–220), ascribe authorship to John the son
of Zebedee.
However, not only the external but also the internal evidence
points to Johannine authorship. First, in 1 John 1:1–4 the author
claims to be an eyewitness of Jesus. Although the first-person
plural reference (“we”) in the author’s description of what he
has heard, seen, and touched may include his audience because
they share in the tradition that was handed down (alternatively,
the reference is to the apostles; cf. John 1:14; 2:11), there is a
clear distinction between the author and his recipients with
regard to their firsthand knowledge of Jesus (cf.1 John 1:2–3).
While the author may use the first-person plural reference to
identify with his audience, 1 John 1:1–2 indicates that the
author is a personal eyewitness of the incarnate Christ.[2]
Second, all three of the Johannine letters contain similar
vocabulary, style, and theology. In fact, the relationship
between the letters is so strong that the majority of modern
scholars view them as coming from one author—albeit not all
agree that their author is the same as the author of the Fourth
Gospel.[3] For instance, among the Johannine letters one can
identify a common background in which itinerant teachers with
competing theological agendas threatened the confession of the
Johannine churches.[4] In response to such threats, the
Johannine letters demonstrate an emphasis on truth (1 John 1:6,
8; 2:4, 21; 3:18–19; 4:6; 5:6; 2 John 1:2–4; 3 John 1:1, 3–4, 8,
12), Jesus’ humanity and/or messianic nature (1 John 4:2; 2
John 7), the identity of the opponents as “antichrists” and
“deceivers” (1 John 2:22, 26; 2 John 7), the importance of
“abiding” (1 John 2:14, 24; 2 John 2), the priority of love (1
John 2:7, 3:11; 2 John 5–6), and ethics as a reflection of one’s
relationship with God (1 John 3:6; 2 John 9; 3 John 11).[5] The
classic defense of apostolic authorship comes from B. F.
Westcott, who favors John the son of Zebedee as the author of

all three letters and remarks regarding the relationship between
them:
The second Epistle bears the closest resemblance in language
and thought to the first. The third Epistle has the closest affinity
to the second, though from its subject it is less like the first in
general form. Nevertheless, it offers many striking parallels to
the constructions and language of St. John.[6]
Third, all three letters contain similarities with John’s gospel.
In the gospel and letters, one finds evidence of John’s
characteristic dualistic thought. Johannine literature is noted for
strong conceptual contrasts such as “life and death, truth and
falsehood, light and darkness, children of God and children of
the devil, love and hate.”[7]In addition to conceptual
similarities, John uses the unique terms “one and only Son”
(John 1:14, 18; 3:16, 18; 1 John 4:9), “Word” as a title for Jesus
(John 1:1; 1 John 1:1), as well as “‘eternal life” (John 3:15–16,
36, etc.; 1 John 1:2; 2:25; 3:15; 5:11, 13, 20), “the spirit of
truth” (John 14:17; 16:13; 1 John 4:6), among many others.[8]
The detailed study by A. E. Brooke lists sixty-seven similarities
in style, vocabulary and syntax between John’s gospel and
letters.[9]
Fourth, while one would expect a later writer to emulate a
particular style in order to pass off a document as genuine, each
of the Johannine letters, though similar to the others, is
unique.[10]Moreover, though some scholars argue that the
gospel and/or letters were written or redacted by a Johannine
community after the apostle’s death, it is unclear why such a
community would have failed to use this standardized Johannine
style outside of the Fourth Gospel and three letters. The
stubborn fact remains that the Johannine corpus has no parallel
in extrabiblical literature.[11]
For these reasons it is reasonable to conclude that the Gospel of
John and 1–3 John are all the work of one single author—and as
tradition, reflected in the respective titles of these works,
suggests, that the author was John the son of Zebedee.[12] Why,

then, does the author of 1 John fail to identify himself, while
only calling himself “the elder” in 2 and 3 John? Apparently,
the identity of the author was so well known that he did not
need to identify himself by name.
The title “elder” or “presbyter” can refer literally to an elderly
man or to an overseer in the church. Doubtless the term here,
combined with the authority conveyed in 2 and 3 John, indicates
that theauthor is more than a local pastor and holds a measure
of authority over several churches.[13]It is likely that by
designating himself with an authoritative title he identifies
himself as holding a position of authority and life experience
enabling him to transmit apostolic tradition in the face of
heretical teachings threatening the church.[14]
Readers might find themselves asking why authorship matters in
a book on leadership. Arguments for or against the Johannine
authorship of 1–3 John do not affect the inspired, authoritative
nature of these writings. Nevertheless, the identity of the author
is important for the theology of leadership these letters contain,
because the theology of leadership emanating from the
Johannine Epistles flows from the role the author played in the
churches to which he wrote. As the above discussion has shown,
the evidence points decisively to John the apostle’s authorship
of 1–3 John. Moreover, it is likely that John wrote in the late
first century when “the author was advanced in years . . . and in
keeping with this . . . referred to the congregations addressed in
the letters as ‘dear children,’ including even those he calls
‘fathers.’”[15]
The Recipients
John’s repeated use of “little children,” along with other
personal and intimate terms of address for groups within the
congregation to which he writes, suggests he had a well-
established relationship with his readers. Beyond this, one must
note that 1 John appears to be slightly different from 2 and 3
John in that 1 John contains no specific names or places and
seems to be more of a general treatise, whereas 2 and 3 John are
personal letters (though 3 John is even more personal than 2

John).[16] Based on tradition, it is likely that all three epistles
first circulated among churches in and around Ephesus, where
John held considerable influence in the late first century.[17]
Though it may be appropriate, then, to speak of Johannine
churches, or churches over which John wielded considerable
sway as a founder and apostle, it is important to distinguish the
Johannine churches from the modern construct of a “Johannine
community.” The “Johannine community” hypothesis is an
attempt by scholars such as Raymond Brown and J. Louis
Martyn to reconstruct the background of John’s gospel and
letters by arguing that these documents reflect a sectarian
community’s expulsion from a parent synagogue subsequent to
the apostle’s death.[18] For our discussion, this differs from a
Johannine church in that it is not directly attested in the New
Testament and sectarian in nature, rather than part of the
apostolic mainstream of the early church.
The Basis of John’s Leadership: Faithful Transmission of
Tradition
How does John attempt to lead the churches to which he writes
these letters? Or, rather, from where does John derive his
authority to instruct his readers? In keeping with his status as
an eyewitness, it is the tradition that John conveys as an
eyewitness that is intrinsic to his authority. For example, in 1
John 1:1–4 the apostle most likely alludes to his own firsthand
experience with Christ. It is through John that the audience is
able to receive the revelation of Christ (“the Word of life”). As
a mediator of apostolic tradition, John has authority to convey
the basis on which people are admitted into the church (i.e.,
“what we have seen and heard we proclaim to you also, so that
you too may have fellowship with us,” 1 John 1:3a). Thus,
John’s leadership and authority consist in his reader’s
dependence upon him for the revelation of Jesus. When one
recalls the original setting of 1 John, it becomes clear that the
“fellowship” John extends to his readers is none other than the
Christian fellowship made possible by the gospel. The heretical
teaching John counters in his theological treatise threatens to

unravel the unity of the Johannine churches, but by maintaining
the genuine, received gospel, the fellowship is preserved and
kept intact.[19]
This mediatorial emphasis is likewise found in 1 John 1:5 where
John describes his role in communicating the message he has
heard to his audience. Thus John’s role as a leader in the
community to which he writes consists to a significant extent in
the faithful transmission of tradition. This observation can be
bolstered by noting that John does not issue a “new
commandment” but repeats what was from the beginning (1
John 2:7; 3:11, 23; 4:21; 2 John 5–7). What is more, John seeks
to guard the truth about Jesus Christ by urging his readers to
remain faithful to their original confession and not to accept a
new tradition about Jesus (1 John 2:18–27; 4:1–3).
Especially important is the time reference used in 1 John 1:1–5
in relation to the origin of the eyewitness testimony. The
“beginning” marks the start of Jesus’ ministry and almost
certainly indicates that the author is one of the Twelve, who can
relate all the necessary and correct details about Jesus.[20] The
first-person plural reference in the prologue has stirred debate
over whether it is used to identify the apostles/disciples [21] or
authoritative bearers of tradition (and hence was written by
someone other than John the apostle).[22] While an argument
has already been made for apostolic authorship, even those who
doubt apostolic authorship (such as Bauckham) note the
eyewitness reference (either by firsthand experience or relating
of a tradition) represented by the first-person plural reference.
This suggests that the authority by which the author exhorts his
readers is based on his access to and transmission of authentic
tradition.
Forms of Address for John’s Audience
John’s leadership and authority are assumed in his epistles in
several ways, which points to his status in the community. In
conjunction with his role as eyewitness and preserver of
tradition about Jesus, John’s authority can be seen by the forms
of address he uses with his readers. Overall, John uses six

different forms of address in his letters. The two most common
ways in which John addresses his audience or parts of his
audience are “my children”[23] or “children”[24] (1 John 2:1,
12, 13, 18, 28; 3:7, 18; 4:4; 5:2, 21; 3 John 1:4) and
“beloved”[25] (1 John 2:7; 3:2, 21; 4:1, 7, 11; 3 John 1:1, 2, 5,
11). Other designations include “lady”[26] (2 John 1:1, 5),
“fathers”[27] (1 John 2:13–14), “young men”[28] (1 John 2:13–
14), and “brothers”[29] (1 John 3:13).
Children
“Children” (teknion)—“my children” in 2:1—is a term of an
endearment often used in John in the vocative plural (1 John
2:12, 28; 3:7, 18; 4:4; 5:21). It has the diminutive meaning of
“little children” and speaks of the close relationship between
John and his spiritual children.[30] John also uses teknon to
denote people in relationship to a teacher—although not every
use of teknon refers to the teacher-spiritual child relationship.
For example, teknon can refer to “children of God” (cf. 1 John
3:1; 5:2) or “children of the devil” (cf. 1 John 3:10). The use of
teknon as a term of endearment by a teacher to his congregation
can be seen in 1 Corinthians 4:14–15, where Paul reminds the
Corinthians that they are his children and he is their spiritual
father because it was from him that they heard and received the
gospel (cf. Acts 18).[31] Although Paul and John may not use
teknon in exactly the same way, it is possible, if not probable,
that John was responsible for establishing the churches to which
he writes (cf. esp. 1 John 1:3).
In addition to teknion and teknon, John also uses paidion(1 John
2:14, 18), which is more common in the New Testament than
either term.[32] The meaning of these words is virtually
synonymous, and all three words are rendered “children” in
English. It is not altogether clear why John varies his word
choice; most likely, this is merely an instance of stylistic
variation. In the context of 1 John 2:12–14, the pattern of
children/fathers/young men seems to indicate that fathers and
young men belong to the larger category of children. That is,
everyone is the church is included in the term “children,”

though John identifies some as “fathers” and others as “young
men.”[33]
Peter Balla’s research on the parent-child relationship in Greco-
Roman and Jewish sources demonstrates that John’s use of
“children” as a term of endearment for his readers would have
served to assert his authority over them, to communicate his
love for them, and to convey the “expectation that they will
obey him.”[34] If, as suggested earlier, one assumes that John
spiritually fathered the church through his gospel proclamation,
the use of the term “children” to accomplish this threefold
purpose is further strengthened.
Beloved
“Beloved” (agapētos) is an equally important term of
endearment in 1 John (1 John 2:7; 3:2, 21; 4:1, 7, 11; 3 John
1:1, 2, 5, 11). Though it can simply be used as a “homiletical
form of address,” semantically it functions much like “child,”
indicating one who is “dearly loved, prized or valued,” often
denoting “a close relationship, especially that between parent
and child.”[35]It is interesting that in the Johannine Epistles the
use of “beloved” often occurs just before or in the middle of a
section dealing with Christian love—though this is not
invariably the case (cf. 3 John 1–2). Stott observes of the first
usage of “beloved” in 1 John 2:7, “As he [John] is about to
write of brotherly love, he appropriately addresses them as his
agapētoi.”[36]
Lady
Twice in 2 John, one finds the rather curious term “lady” (kyría;
cf. 2 John 1:1, 5). The word generally denotes “a woman of
special status.”[37] Although some commentators (e.g.,
Westcott) believe the word refers to an individual, such as a
lady in whose house the church met, the majority view is that it
refers to a congregation of Christians.[38] R. Alan Culpepper
writes, “It is now generally agreed that this title refers to a
sister church.”[39] The view that the “elect lady” is an
individual is the most ancient view, going back to Clement of
Alexandria (d. 215) who believed the lady’s name was Electa,

while others suggest her name was Kyria (cf. “elect” with a
proper name in Romans 16:13).[40] However, the definite
article is lacking, and the nature of the letter fits a corporate
rather than individual or family setting.[41] The reference to the
“chosen lady” probably refers to a congregation of believers, a
church—and the chosen lady’s “children” refers to the members
of the church.[42] Thus, at the outset of 2 John, the elder
assumes his right to speak authoritatively to a local church to
which he writes.
Fathers and Young Men
In 1 John 2:12–14, the apostle discusses the various reasons
why he has written his epistle to several classes of people—
children, fathers, and young men. Fathers (patēres) are
mentioned twice in this passage (1 John 2:13–14). The term is
almost certainly “a respectful address designating older male
members of the church.”[43] Of course, it is difficult to know
whether John refers to individuals who are literally advanced in
years or spiritually mature, or both. Strecker observes that the
general tone of the epistle hints that one should interpret the
age designations such as “fathers” and “young men” in a more
symbolic fashion.[44] Although both words are masculine,
female readers may have understood the concepts as applying to
them as well.[45] Thus, while as a leader John calls those under
his authority “children,” he shows his high regard for those
advanced in the faith by identifying them as “fathers.”
Likewise, young men (neaniskoi) are mentioned twice in 1 John
2:12–14. Literally,neaniskos refers to a young man, usually
between twenty-four and forty years old.[46] However, based on
the above observations John probably refers primarily to those
who are young figuratively, that is, young in the faith.
Nevertheless, it is important not to draw too fine a distinction
between the literal and figurative senses of “fathers/young
men,” since in most cases spiritual maturity comes with
increasing age.
Brothers
The term of endearment adelphoi is only used once in the

Johannine Epistles, in 1 John 3:13. Although the word is
masculine, it should most likely be understood as conveying the
sense “brothers and sisters.” The address demonstrates that John
views the congregation not merely as his spiritual children but
also as fellow believers who like him have placed their trust in
Jesus as the Son of God and Messiah.[47] Nevertheless, the fact
that John uses the designation adelphoi only once may suggest
that he sees himself primarily in the role of a leader with regard
to the congregation. Barker adds the following insight:
At this most critical point, the author appears to step past his
relationship to them as “little children” and to openly proclaim
them as his peers. Perhaps they have already experienced
persecution with him. Or perhaps he associates himself with
them this way because he knows that if they receive his letter
and obey it, persecution will soon come because they have
identified themselves with him rather than with his
opponents.[48]
Summary
John uses various names to address his congregation for
rhetorical purposes. He sought both to encourage his readers to
honor their relationship with him and the Lord and to appeal to
them based upon his relationship with them. While some of the
terms of address may have literal significance (i.e., “young
men,” “fathers”), most of the expressions convey the close
relationship shared between John and his readers.[49]
Conflict in 3 John
Third John, the shortest book in the New Testament, is also the
most occasional of John’s letters. The brief missive presents a
variety of difficulties because it is addressed to an individual
about whom nothing is known and speaks of issues of which the
contemporary reader is unaware due to limited background
information. The most crucial issue in 3 John pertains directly
to leadership—who can speak authoritatively in the church to
which the elder writes: the elder or Diotrephes? This matter is
the subject of discussion in 3 John 9–10:

I wrote something to the church; but Diotrephes, who loves to
be first among them, does not accept what we say. For this
reason, if I come, I will call attention to his deeds which he
does, unjustly accusing us with wicked words; and not satisfied
with this, he himself does not receive the brethren, either, and
he forbids those who desire to do so and puts them out of the
church.
Scholars are divided over the meaning of John’s cryptic
reference to writing “something to the church.” Some maintain
that John is referring to 2 John, while the majority of recent
commentators contend that he refers to a now-lost letter, since 2
John says nothing about extending hospitality to itinerant
missionaries, the presumed subject of the letter in question.[50]
Regardless of the nature of the letter, John experiences a
leadership challenge when a certain Diotrephes opposes him and
his associates by lodging false charges and refusing hospitality
to the itinerant missionaries presumably sent by John. In
addition, he seeks to rid his church of those who receive the
missionaries from John.
The contemporary reader, of course, possessed no further
information regarding this man named Diotrephes. Does Gaius
belong to the same church as Diotrephes? Is Diotrephes an/the
elder in his own church? And why does Diotrephes oppose John
and the itinerant missionaries? We can only speculate.
First, one cannot be sure whether Gaius and Diotrephes belong
to the same local church. Some have suggested that the elder
wrote a letter to the church commending the missionaries to
whom he refers in 3 John 8, but Diotrephes ignored it and did
not share the letter with the church. In a second attempt to
commend the missionaries and notify the church of Diotrephes’
actions, the elder writes to his friend Gaius, who is also a
member of the church, in hopes that he will share it with
others.[51]Others believe Gaius was a member of another
church in the surrounding area.[52] One cannot be sure, but it is
more likely that Gaius serves as one of John’s delegates rather

than as a fellow-member of Diotrephes’ church. After all, Gaius
would scarcely need an explanation of Diotrephes’ actions if he
were part of the church.[53] Moreover, if Gaius were in
Diotrephes’ church, how has he escaped being expelled since he
is presumably on John’s side?[54]
Second, what is Diotrephes’ role in his local church? It seems
clear that he exercises a leadership function whether or not he
occupies a formal office. In 3 John 9, Diotrephes is described as
ho philoprōteuōn auton, which means something like “he loves
to have preeminence” or “he likes being first.” F. F. Bruce
observes, “The language suggests a self-promoted demagogue
rather than a constitutional presbyteros or episkopos.”[55]
Nevertheless, Diotrephes is able to put others out of the church
which may suggest a more official role—although this could
mean that he attempts to drive others out of the church by
accusation or pressure, with varying results.[56] Whether
Diotrephes is an official leader or not cannot be determined
with certainty; yet it is clear that the elder does not accept
Diotrephes’ position in the church, whatever that may be, as the
preeminent office-holder.
Finally, why does Demetrius oppose the elder and the itinerant
missionaries? This has been one of the most frequently
discussed questions in reference to the interpretation of 3 John.
The options include:
Conflict over doctrinal orthodoxy. One view is that Diotrephes
and the elder had differing theological convictions. Either
Diotrephes was guilty of the deficient Christology discussed in
1 and 2 John (Bauer) or, as Käsemann and Strecker claim, it was
the elder who was guilty of heresy.
[57]
However, it is highly probable that the conflict had nothing to
do with doctrinal differences since no doctrinal deficiencies are
mentioned as they are in 1 and 2 John.
Conflict due to a tragic misunderstanding. More recently, the
proposal has been made that a tragic misunderstanding occurred
when John sent out missionaries who, unbeknown to him,

defected to heretical Christology and were rightly rejected by
Diotrephes. Then, a second group of orthodox missionaries from
John were likewise repelled and John reacted against Diotrephes
without full knowledge of the situation.
[58]
As interesting as this reconstruction may be, it is purely
conjectural and cannot be adjudicated on the basis of the
available evidence.
Conflict over ecclesiastical authority. There are numerous
reconstructions as to the exact nature of the conflict. Harnack
proposed that 3 John was written toward the end of the apostolic
period when the office of “monarchical bishop” was beginning
to emerge. Diotrephes either desired or held such a role and
therefore rejected the elder’s authority as either antiquated or
nonbinding for him and his church.
[59]
Others have suggested that perhaps Diotrephes felt his church
was independent, and therefore the elder, who was removed
from the church, had no right to impose his own will on the
church. Thus an ecclesiastical power play was at stake.
Conflict due to personal sin. J. Stott rightly seeks to pay close
attention to what the text makes explicit rather than focusing on
the unstated background. He concludes:
To John the motives governing the conduct of Diotrephes were
neither theological, nor social, nor ecclesiastical, but moral.
The root of the problem was sin. Diotrephes . . . loves to be first
or (RSV) “likes to put himself first” (philoprōteuō). He did not
share the Father’s purpose that in all things Christ should have
the supremacy (Col 1:18, prōteuōn). Nor would he kowtow to
“the elder.” He wanted the supremacy himself. He was “greedy
of place and power.”
[60]
Stott takes a different approach than many commentators and
traces the heart of the problem to a problem of the heart.
Moreover, his observation is bolstered because it can be

supported by what the text says.
However, it would be misleading to conclude that the conflict
was not ecclesiastical. It is clear that 3 John addresses a
leadership conflict. Diotrephes is seeking to act as a leader in
the church. His leadership is asserted by opposing the
leadership of John and prohibiting John’s missionaries from
gaining a foothold in his church. John does not appreciate this
threat to his own leadership and seeks to regain his dominance
by advising Gaius, “Do not imitate what is evil” (e.g., “Do not
imitate Diotrephes,” v. 11) and by proposing to confront
Diotrephes (v. 9). Thus John asserts his leadership over
Diotrephes and the church by maintaining his right to exercise
disciplinary action for anyone’s refusal to follow his leadership.
Theology of Leadership in 1–3 John
John’s theology of leadership is inextricably bound to his
identity as an apostle and eyewitness of Jesus. First, leadership
in the church is not innate; a leader is not self-appointed but
leadership is conferred by the Head of the church (cf. Eph.
4:11–13). Jesus called his disciples and commissioned them to
preach the gospel to others. John’s ability to lead others,
therefore, derives from his relationship to Jesus. John truly
knew and knows Christ and can therefore speak on his behalf
about him to others. Still, John is in a privileged position over
against his audience because his readers did not see, hear, or
touch the living Word of Life. This privilege means that as long
as John is alive, he is the official preserver and interpreter of
Christological and doctrinal orthodoxy in the churches he
serves.
Second, but closely related to the first point, is John’s
commitment to the authentic Jesus tradition. What the elder
teaches his churches about God as Father, Son, and Spirit, about
morality and ethics, salvation, and so forth, is not his own
teaching but is that which he “received.” That is, John only
reports what he has seen, experienced himself, and been
instructed to teach.

Third, John understands his authority not only as conferred by
Christ, but also as confirmed by his relationship with his
readers. In his use of the …
THEME: Power in the Service of Others
Joseph H. Hellerman
During his second missionary journey, Paul crossed over from
Asia to Europe to share the gospel in Macedonia. On the first
Sabbath after they arrived, Paul and Silas won a God-fearer
named Lydia to the Lord. The missionaries soon attracted the
attention of local authorities, when Paul cast out “a spirit of
divination” from a slave girl who had “brought her owners much
gain by fortune-telling” (Acts 16:16–18). The girl’s owners
dragged Paul and Silas into the marketplace, where they were
charged with advocating “customs that are not lawful for us as
Romans to accept or practice” (v. 21). The magistrates
“inflicted many blows upon them” and threw Paul and Silas into
prison.
That night an earthquake freed the missionaries from prison,
and the Philippian jailer and his household became followers of
Jesus. The next day, the magistrates sent word to release the
missionaries. Luke’s narrative suddenly takes a striking turn,
when Paul responds as follows:
They have beaten us publicly, uncondemned, men who are
Roman citizens, and have thrown us into prison; and do they
now throw us out secretly? No! Let them come themselves and
take us out (v. 37).
The magistrates became “afraid when they heard that they were
Roman citizens,” they apologized to Paul and Silas, and they
begged them to leave Philippi (vv. 38–39).

The story of Paul’s ministry in Philippi is captivating in so
many ways—the exorcism, the earthquake, the conversion of the
jailer and his family, and not least, the striking status reversal
that finds the local magistrates apologizing to the missionaries
after initially treating them so harshly. Most informative for
Paul’s convictions about Christian leadership, however, is an
issue that Acts 16 leaves completely unaddressed:
Why did Paul and Silas not reveal their citizen status to the
magistrates at the outset, and save themselves the beatings and
imprisonment?
The answer to this question leads us to very the heart of Paul’s
understanding of servant leadership. It depends, however, on
some crucial background concerning the centrality of honor, and
the importance of citizen status, in a Roman colony like
Philippi.
Original Setting [1]
Roman Social Values
Rome was a highly stratified honor culture, with distinct classes
defined by law. Public indicators of social status guaranteed
that everyone would know “who was who” in a public setting.
The various classes—senators, equestrians, decurions, citizens,
noncitizens, slaves, freedmen—wore clothing that differed
according to social status. For example, only a Roman citizen
could wear the Roman toga. It was a capital crime for a
noncitizen to pose as a citizen by wearing the toga. Senators
and other officials had further markings on their clothing that
identified them according to their privileged position in the
social pecking order.
People also sat according to rank at public events and private
parties. Persons of highest status, of course, had the best seats
at the theater and gladiatorial games. The Romans even
dispensed justice according to social status, meting out different
punishments for the same crime depending on the defendant’s

rank. Accordingly, a Roman citizen who committed a capital
crime was beheaded; a noncitizen was crucified.
Romans leveraged their social capital to protect and augment
the honor of their extended families. Roman males competed
with their peers for honor, aggressively pursuing public offices
and priesthoods, in order to lay claim to the prestigious titles
that went along with them. Families then listed these titles on
inscriptions and funerary monuments prominently placed in
public settings throughout the empire.
The Romanness of Philippi
Philippi was an imperial colony, founded by the emperor
Augustus during the first century bc. By the time Paul arrived in
Philippi, some seven decades later, the formerly Greek
settlement had been Romanized through and through.
Persons of every class in Philippi competed with their peers for
coveted titles and offices, which the victors then displayed in
“résumé-form” on inscriptions like this one, erected throughout
the colony:
Publius Marius Valens, son of Publius, from the tribe Voltinia,
honored with the decorations of a decurion, aedile, also
decurion of Philippi, priest of the divine Antoninus Pius,
duumvir, sponsor of games.[2]
The inscription catalogues the ascent of a second-century
aristocrat through the various status levels available to a local
elite in a colony like Philippi. Romans had a technical name for
the social pecking order: cursus honorum, “a course (or “race”)
of honors.” From this inscription we know that Publius was a
Roman citizen from birth (“Voltinia” was his citizen tribe).
Because he was born into a family that included persons who
served as decurions (Philippi’s town council), he was “honored
with the decorations of a decurion,” likely while still a child.
Publius became a “decurion” himself as an adult, and soon won
two important civic honors: the office of “aedile” and a

priesthood in the imperial cult (“priest of the divine Antoninus
Pius”). Finally, Publius became “duumvir” of Philippi, the
highest civic office in the colony (the “magistrates” of Acts
16:20). It was in that role, presumably, that he financed a
display of public entertainment for the municipality (“sponsor
of games”).
Scholars have concluded, from more than seven hundred such
inscriptions unearthed at the site, that Philippi was the most
status-conscious town of all the locations Paul visited on his
journeys.[3] This judgment is confirmed at several places in the
account of the Paul’s ministry in the colony in Acts 16, where
we discover that Luke was quite aware of the Romanness of
Philippi.
Luke on Roman Philippi
First, Philippi is the only town that Luke explicitly identifies as
“a Roman colony” (v. 11). This is striking to say the least, since
Paul’s travels, as Acts describes them, take the apostle through
at least eight other Roman colonies.[4] One of those was
Corinth, where Paul remained “a year and six months” (18:11).
Not a single one of these colonies—not even Corinth—is
explicitly identified by the author as such. Luke reserves the
designation “colony” solely for Philippi.
Secondly, only in Philippi are Paul and his team accused of
advocating “customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to
accept or practice” (v. 21). Paul did not change his tactics in
Philippi. He preached the same gospel elsewhere, and he
performed exorcisms in other towns as well. At Ephesus,
moreover, Paul’s activities created an economic dilemma for
local craftsmen that was in some ways analogous to the scenario
with owners of the slave-girl at Philippi (Acts 19). Only in the
colony at Philippi, however, is Paul explicitly accused of
promulgating anti-Roman customs.

Thirdly, only in the Philippian narrative does Luke use official
titles for the magistrates of the colony. A council of elite
decurions governed the colony, with two key men at the top.
The official Greek title for the two co-leaders was strategos, a
designation Luke uses only here to identify officials in a Roman
colony (esv, “magistrates” [vv. 20, 22, 35, 36, 38]). Luke also
employs technical terminology in Acts 16 to refer to the “jailer”
(desmophylax) (vv. 23, 27, 36) and the “police” (rabdouchos)
(vv. 35, 38). Luke is clearly concerned with assigning official
titles to the key players in the Philippians narrative.
None of this is accidental. (1) The explicit identification of
Philippi as a “colony,” (2) the unique charge against the
missionaries, and (3) the multiplication of official titles—
phenomena found nowhere else in Acts—reflect Luke’s
awareness of the Roman values that permeated social life in
Philippi more than anywhere else Paul traveled in the Greek
East. A fourth Lukan anomaly in Acts 16, the theme of Paul’s
Roman citizenship, proves even more illuminating in our quest
for the apostle’s theology of leadership.
The Centrality of Roman Citizenship
The most significant social distinction in the colony was that
between citizen and noncitizen. It is estimated that
approximately forty percent of the people in Philippi were
Roman citizens. Each Roman colony, when it was founded, was
typically identified with one of Rome’s citizen tribes. Philippi’s
tribe was Voltinia, and those who possessed the franchise were
proud of their Roman heritage.
One-half of the first- and second-century inscriptions unearthed
at Philippi contain the abbreviation VOL (Voltinia),
highlighting the person’s Roman citizen tribe. Even a two-year-
old child had the expression engraved on his tombstone:

Nepos, son of . . . of the tribe Voltinia,
It is fair to conclude from the archaeological data that nowhere
in the Roman East were the residents of a local municipality
more concerned to proclaim their citizen status than in the
colony at Philippi.
Once again, this accords remarkably well with what we
encounter in Acts 16. For only at Philippi, among the places
Paul visited on his three missionary journeys, does Roman
citizenship become an issue in Luke’s narrative.[6]
Paul, Silas, and Citizen Status
As Roman citizens, the missionaries possessed a significant
degree of social capital in the colony. The legal privileges
associated with the franchise were particularly valued by
Romans who found themselves in the provinces, far away from
the capital city of Rome. Cicero explains:
Such trust have they in the single fact of their citizenship that
they count on being safe, not only where they find our
magistrates, who are restrained by the fear of law and public
opinion, and not only among their own countrymen, to whom
they are bound by the ties of a common language and civic
rights and much else besides: no, wherever they find
themselves, they feel confident that this one fact [their
citizenship] will be their defence (In Verr. 2.5.167).
Peter Garnsey elaborates on the distinction between citizen and
non-citizen, as it might manifest itself in a veteran colony like
Philippi: “In a Roman colony it appears that arrest, beating, and
imprisonment were normal for aliens, but that it was potentially
dangerous to give citizens the same treatment.”[7]
The magistrates at Philippi assumed, of course, that Paul and
Silas were “aliens” and treated them accordingly. When they
found out otherwise, the officials became “afraid” (v. 38), and
understandably so. For Rome had a tradition of prosecuting

governors who mistreated her citizens in the provinces.
We return now to our initial question: Why did the missionaries
not reveal their citizen status to the magistrates at the outset,
and save themselves the beatings and imprisonment?
The answer is found in Paul’s determination to use power and
authority, in whatever form, not to protect himself or to further
his own agenda but, rather, in the service of the gospel, for the
eternal good of his fellow human beings. For Paul, this is what
it meant to be a servant leader.
Paul and Silas had the right, as Roman citizens, to demand a
fair trial. To do so would certainly have been in their best
interests. It would not, however, have been in the best interest
of the gospel and the fledgling church in Philippi. The self-
defense of an early claim to Roman citizenship on the part of
the missionaries would have generated a two-class system in the
church. Brian Rapske elaborates:
The signals sent would also have put the church at risk of
dissolution if the new Philippian converts did not possess the
Roman franchise. At the least there would have been uncertainty
surrounding Paul’s commitment to his message. Converts might
wonder whether only those suitably protected (i.e. by Roman
citizenship) should become believers in Christ, and they might
think it disingenuous for Paul and Silas to ask others to suffer
what they themselves were able to avoid.[8]
Nowhere is Paul’s practice of (and the cost of) servant
leadership more visible than it is in Acts 16 where, in order to
preserve the relational integrity of the gospel, the apostle
refused to draw upon his social status as a Roman citizen to
save himself a beating and imprisonment.
Theology (=Christology) of Leadership
As it turns out, Paul’s self-sacrificial attitude toward his citizen

status in Philippi finds its origins in the apostle’s understanding
of the incarnation and crucifixion of his Lord Jesus. A decade
or so after Paul left Philippi, he wrote a letter to the church. At
the heart of Philippians is one of the most magnificent
portrayals of Jesus in all of Christian literature:[9]
We generally do not turn to Philippians 2:5–11 to craft a
Pauline theology of leadership. Students in training for
ministry, for example, encounter this familiar passage in their
systematic theology courses, where they consider Christ’s
divine and human natures (vv. 6 and 7, respectively), drawing
upon theological categories fully articulated only later, at the
ecumenical councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon. The practical
theology departments in our seminaries generally turn elsewhere
in Paul’s writings (e.g., 1 Thess. 2) to introduce students to the
apostle’s convictions about leadership. This is unfortunate,
since Paul’s understanding of the humiliation and exaltation of
Christ, as outlined in Philippians 2:6–11, is at the very heart of
his philosophy of ministry as an apostle and church planter.
I cited the HCSB translation above, because of the rendering of
a key term (harpagmos) in verse 6: something to be used for his
own advantage. The most recent NIV adopts the same
translation, and the NRSV reads similarly: “[He] did not regard
equality with God as something to be exploited.” Bible
translators are now jettisoning older translations of the term
(e.g., “a thing to be grasped” [esv, cf. nasb]), for translations of
harpagmos that more accurately reflect the meaning of the
Greek original. The reason is that scholars are increasingly
recognizing that Paul is concerned in the passage not with the
nature of Christ’s “equality with God” but, rather, with what
Christ chose to do with it the privileges associated with his
divinity.
To be sure, one can effectively argue from Christ’s status of
“equality with God” to his divine nature. The acclamation of

Jesus as “Lord” (OT Yahweh) in verse 11 points in the same
direction. But this argument is not Paul’s—not explicitly, at any
rate. His interests relate, rather, to Christ’s position in the
pecking order of the universe, so to speak. Paul focuses
throughout 2:6–11 not upon Christ’s essential nature but, rather,
upon what Christ chose to do with his status (and corresponding
authority) as the Son of God. This is why translators now render
harpagmos (v. 6) like they do.
Other key expressions in Philippians 2 that have traditionally
been interpreted ontologically, in fact, lack an ontological
component when used in contemporary literature. For example,
the NIV erroneously translates en morphe theou (v. 6) as “in
very nature God.” We now know that the term morphe generally
refers to outward appearance, not inner essence. Thus Paul can
write about persons “having the appearance (morphe) of
godliness, but denying its power” (2 Tim. 3:5). In the case of
Jesus, the gospel writers use the cognate verb metamorphao to
describe the change he underwent during the transfiguration
(Matt. 17:2; Mark 9:2). Clearly, this is a change only in outward
appearance. We certainly would not argue that Jesus’ change of
morphe at the transfiguration involved an alteration of his
essential nature, as well!
According to Peter O’Brien, then,en morphe theou in
Philippians 2:6 is “a picture of the preexistent Christ clothed in
the garments of divine majesty and splendor.”[10] That is, it is
the outward appearance of the preincarnate Son that is primarily
in view—not the inner reality. The theme of social status (and
corresponding power and authority) remain at the center of
Paul’s picture of Jesus throughout Philippians 2:6–11, as
illustrated by the headings in the boxes placed alongside the
HCSB translation above.
The humiliation of Christ, as Paul outlined it in Philippians
2:6–8, would have struck the residents of Philippi as absolutely
counterintuitive. In contrast to local elites in Philippi, who

boasted of their climb up the cursus honorum by means of
public inscriptions (as illustrated by Publius Marius Valens,
above), Christ willingly embarked on a social descent that led
him down a “course of dishonors,” from the highest status in the
universe to the utterly humiliating position of a crucified
slave—all so that you and I could be in relationship with God
and his people.
We return now to Paul and Silas in Philippi to consider the
connection between (a) Paul’s behavior as a leader in Acts 16
and (b) the apostle’s portrayal of Christ in Philippians 2. The
passages exhibit several remarkable parallels.
Philippians 2 and Acts 16
Christians at Philippi who heard Paul’s letter read for the first
time would have encountered in the incarnation of Jesus (2:6–
11) a striking and unexpected status reversal. Jesus “did not
regard equality with God as something to be used for his own
advantage.” Instead, he took on “the form of a slave” and
“became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross”
(vv. 6–8). Then, in a divine fiat that wholly subverted the
values and expectations of the dominant culture of the Roman
colony at Philippi, God vindicated Jesus’ counterintuitive
approach to status and power by exalting him to the highest
place, guaranteeing that Jesus would be publicly honored by all
(vv. 9–11).
In God’s radically subversive social economy, it is not those
who leverage their status for their “own advantage” (cf. v. 6)
who ultimately receive honor. It is those who willingly
relinquish their status in the service of others.
Like Christ in Philippians 2, Paul and Silas resisted the
temptation to use their status as Roman citizens to serve a
personal agenda. Instead they gave up the right to a fair trial
and unnecessarily endured a beating and imprisonment, in order

to preserve the social integrity of the Philippian church. And
just as he did for Jesus, God undertook on behalf of Paul and
Silas, delivering them from prison by means of a well-timed
earthquake. Later, as the story draws to a close, the
missionaries’ citizen status is revealed, and positions of power
are completely reversed, as the colony’s esteemed magistrates
now humble themselves before Paul and Silas, pleading with
them to leave the colony. A point-by-point comparison is
illuminating:
Paul & Silas (Acts 16) Messiah Jesus (Philippians 2)
Refused to exploit their Roman citizenship Did not regard
equality with God as something to be exploited (v. 6)
Willingly suffered the humiliation of flogging and
imprisonment at the hands of Roman magistrates (vv. 19–23)
Willingly suffered the humiliation of slave status, and of
crucifixion at the hands of a Roman magistrate (vv. 7–8)
Vindicated by a sudden status reversal; citizenship (true
identity) publicly recognized and oppressors put to shame (vv.
35–39) Vindicated by a sudden status reversal; divine
lordship (true identity) recognized and publicly acknowledged
by all (vv. 9–11)
It is beyond the scope of the chapter to treat these parallels in
detail.[11] One issue, however, is particularly revealing. When
Paul describes Jesus “assuming the form of a slave” (v. 7), he is
referring to the incarnation. That is, Jesus took on the form of a
slave by “taking on the likeness of men” (v. 7). The second
clause explains the first. Paul’s point is that the reduction in
status willingly embraced by Christ in the incarnation was
tantamount to a well-heeled Roman citizen willingly selling
himself into slavery, the lowest legal order in Paul’s social
world. Such was the social distance between the preincarnate
Son of God and the peasant craftsman he became in the person
of Jesus of Nazareth. It was as if God himself had become an
abject Greco-Roman slave.

Only in Philippians 2:7, moreover, in all Paul’s letters, does he
refer to Jesus as a “slave” (doulos). This is no accident, in view
of the beating Paul and Silas endured in Acts 16. As outlined
above, citizenship and public flogging were mutually exclusive
categories in Roman thinking. The physical beating of slaves,
however, was an accepted social reality.
Jennifer Glancy, in an illuminating study of the relationship
between whipping and social status, finds that “[t]he scars of a
first-century body instantiate relationships of power, of legal
status (freeborn, freed, or enslaved), of domination and
submission, of honor and shame.” She argues, in turn, for “a
semiotic distinction between a breast pierced by a sword and a
back welted by a whip.”[12] Scars left from wounds suffered in
battle are marks of honor—in the words of Plutarch, “inscribed
images of excellence and manly virtue” (Mor. 331C). Scars
from a beating have an entirely different socio-symbolic
resonance.
Public flogging in antiquity was essentially a status degradation
ritual, so that “any free person who was whipped or struck
suffered an injury to honor far in excess of whatever temporary
pain or permanent mark was inflicted.”[13] More to the point in
the present connection, public beating in the Roman world was
typically associated with the institution of slavery. Consider
Apuleius’ description of a group of rural slaves encountered by
his protagonist:
Good, gods, what scrawny little slaves there were! Their skin
was everywhere embroidered with purple welts from their many
beatings. Their backs, scarred from floggings, were shaded, as it
were, rather than actually covered by their torn patchwork
garments (Met. 9.12).[14]
Glancy summarizes: “whipping, which brings dishonor to the
one who is whipped, is suitable only for slaves, so one who is
whipped, even if legally free, warrants description as
servile.”[15]
The parallel between Jesus “assuming the form of a slave” in

Philippians 2:7—the only place in his letters where Paul uses
doulos to describe Christ—and the flogging of Paul and Silas in
Acts 16:22–23 now becomes readily transparent. Like Christ in
Paul’s grand narrative, the missionaries in Acts 16 did not
regard their citizen franchise as “something to be exploited”
(Phil. 2:6, nrsv) but, instead, assumed what was tantamount to
slave status in order to preserve the integrity of the gospel. It is
little wonder that Paul, in another context, calls his scars “the
marks of Jesus branded on my body” (Gal. 6:17; cf. 2 Cor.
11:24–25).
After the beating, Paul and Silas reach the nadir of their decline
in honor and status, when they are imprisoned and have their
feet fastened in stocks (Acts 16:23–24). Jesus, on his part,
experiences the utter public humiliation of crucifixion in the
Philippian narrative (“even to death on a cross” [2:8]).[16]
But God did not leave Paul and Silas in the darkness of a prison
in Roman Philippi, at the mercy of their Roman accusers. Nor
did God leave Jesus in the darkness of a tomb on the outskirts
of Jerusalem. In each case God vindicated his servants’ selfless
attitude toward status and authority by means of a striking
reversal of status.
It was not long before Paul and Silas had the magistrates
apologizing to them and begging them to leave the colony (Acts
16:38–39).
It was not long before Jesus rose from the dead. And it will not
be long before he will return, and every sentient being—angels,
demons, and human beings alike—will publicly acknowledge
that “Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father” (Phil.
2:10–11).
The message to God’s leaders is crystal-clear: God ultimately
honors those among his followers who use their resources—
social status, authority, gifts, education, finances—in the
service of others, even if this involves relinquishing these
privileges and temporarily suffering the consequences. Any
Pauline theology of servant leadership must begin here. For
this, in a nutshell, is what it meant for Paul to lead like Jesus.

Leadership Significance
Later in his letter Paul instructed the Philippians, “Brothers,
join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk
according to the example you have in us” (3:17). The charge is
given to the church as a whole, of course, but adopting a
Pauline approach to status and power has special application to
those who occupy positions of authority in the community.
Perhaps this is why Paul greeted church leaders by title only in
Philippians (“overseers and deacons” [1:1]). The imitation
theme surfaces several times in the apostle’s letters. At least
twice it appears in conjunction with Paul’s willingness to forego
his own rights as an apostle in the service of others (1 Cor.
10:33–11:1; 2 Thess. 3:7–9).
The practical implications of leading like Paul are manifold.
Such an approach to ministry might find application in
something as mundane and symbolic as repainting the church
parking lot, so that a reserved spot marked “Pastor” no longer
exists. Or it might involve something much more significant,
such as forgoing the right to a paycheck from the church, as
Paul did with the Corinthians (1 Cor. 9:6–18). Imitating Paul
might even lead to a difficult sacrifice of status within the
congregation itself—such as sharing the pulpit with another
leader whom God has clearly gifted to teach. Indeed, giving
away the ministry may be at the very heart of servant
leadership, as it works itself out in day-to-day church life.
Paul seemed to think so, at any rate. We read in Ephesians that
to do the work of the ministry is not to keep the ministry to
oneself—it is to equip others to do the ministry (4:12). When I
see God raising up another gifted leader in my church, I would
do well to adopt the attitude John the Baptizer took toward
Jesus: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30).
Consider the example of Barnabas. The church at Jerusalem sent
Barnabas to Antioch to tend to the “great number” of Gentiles

who had believed and “turned to the Lord” (Acts 11:21–22). In
response to Barnabas’ pastoral oversight, Luke tells us that “a
great many people were added to the Lord” (v. 24). Had
Barnabas kept the ministry to himself, he could have been the
first senior pastor of a Gentile megachurch. Barnabas, however,
had a give-away attitude toward his role and authority as a
leader. He immediately recruited Paul from Tarsus to share the
ministry with him in Antioch (v. 25). “For a whole year they
met with the church and taught a great many people” (v. 26). By
the time we get to Acts 13, several other men have now joined
Paul and Barnabas as church leaders: “Now there were in the
church at Antioch prophets and teachers, Barnabas, Simeon who
was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen a lifelong friend of
Herod the tetrarch, and Saul” (13:1).
An Authority Crisis [17]
The notion of other-centered leadership, of not viewing one’s
authority as “something to be exploited” for personal gain and
the attention of others (Phil. 2:6, nrsv), has fallen on hard times
in some circles today. Recent decades have seen numbers of
nationally known pastors step down from their roles as church
leaders because of authority abuse and other self-serving
practices. And the issues are not limited to high-profile public
figures. Similar problems with the exercise of spiritual
authority manifest themselves in many of our local churches.
The reasons are not hard to discern. The family has been in
crisis in America for more than a generation. More and more
young men, gifted and called to the ministry, are coming to
seminary from highly troubled homes. Lacking “the relational
straw to make bricks,” so to speak, they attract crowds on
Sunday with their rhetorical abilities, but they often hurt those
with whom they serve in the more intimate settings of
leadership development and staff relations.
And the problem is not limited to the Christian community. The
secular business community currently recruits its leaders from

the same dysfunctional family backgrounds. Manfred F. R. Kets
de Vries traces narcissistic, abusive leadership in the corporate
sector directly to emotional deprivation in childhood:
The degree of encouragement and frustration children
experience as they grow up and begin to measure the boundaries
of their personalities has a lasting influence on their …
LEAD 510 Biblical Leadership Theme Report Grading Rubric
Criteria
Levels of Achievement
Content 70%
Advanced 92-100% (A)
Proficient 84-91% (B)
Developing 1-83% (< C)
Not present
Introduction
5
Provides a 1-page (250-300 words) introduction with a strong
thesis statement supported by at least one footnote/citation
4
Provides a 200-249 word introduction with a thesis statement –
supported by documentation
1-3
Provides an introduction of less than 200 words – no thesis
statement- no support documentation
0 points
Summary & Analysis
55-60
Provides full summary of 3 themes and a complete
analysis identifying the reasons why each theme is especially
important to you or to our generation in regards to practicing
Godly leadership no matter the context of one's vocation or
location.
50-54

Provides a summary of 3 themes and partial
analysis identifying the reasons why each theme is especially
important to you or to our generation in regards to practicing
Godly leadership no matter the context of one's vocation or
location.
1-49
Provides an insufficient summary of 3 themes and an
incomplete analysis of the reasons why each theme is especially
important to practicing Godly leadership.
0 points
Conclusion
5
250-300 word conclusion demonstrating how the thesis can be
realized by leaders in the current ministry or life context.
4
200-249 word conclusion demonstrating how the thesis can be
realized by leaders in the current ministry or life context.
1-3
Less than 200 word conclusion –no correlation to thesis
statement .
0 points
Structure 30%
Advanced 92-100% (A)
Proficient 84-91% (B)
Developing 1-83% (< C)
Not present
Structure
28-30
Format, Title page and Bibliography are free from
grammar/spelling errors and are consistent with formatting of
the student’s program (e.g. Turabian, APA and AMA formatting
guides are provided by Liberty University)
25-27

Format, Title page and Bibliography have 6-10
grammar/spelling errors and are inconsistent with formatting of
the student’s program (e.g. Turabian, APA and AMA formatting
guides are provided by Liberty University)
1-24
Format, Title page and Bibliography have more than 10
grammar/spelling errors and do not correlate with formatting of
the student’s program
0 points

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