A Call to Apostolic Partnership

                                A gathering of leaders from Advance churches in the UK for prayer

A Guest Blog by Dr. Andrew Butterworth      

Churches & the Ends of the Earth

Is your church having an impact beyond your city? In 1900, Nobel Peace Prize winner John R. Mott wrote a booklet called: ‘The evangelization of the world in this generation’. It was a bold call to action – could Jesus’ mission to reach every tribe and tongue be completed by the people living on the earth at that time?

 

Mott’s generation has come and gone, and now the baton has been passed to us. It’s the tension that every local church should feel. We have our ‘Jerusalem’ that we focus on, but we need to keep an eye on ‘Judea, Samaria and the ends of the Earth.’ (Acts 1:8)

 

In my own church’s new members’ meeting, we tackle this head-on. As a local church, we get to reach our ‘Jerusalem’,we say, but through partnership with our global church family, Advance, we get to help reach ‘Judea, Samaria and the ends of the Earth.’

 

The New Testament Pattern

Partnership multiples impact. Have you ever considered what the best model for churches to partner together to do this is? Personally, it’s something I don’t want to leave to chance to get right. If Jesus has given us an approach in Scripture, then I want to back it – because I know there will be wisdom in doing that. 

 

When I read the New Testament, I see churches planted and elders (in the plural) set in place by travelling teams of Ephesian 4 ministers (Eph. 4:11-13). In the Book of Acts, we see that Paul goes on mission, launches churches and then travels back to care for them. 

 

Once the number of churches he looked after became too large, Paul sent delegates in his place, such as Titus,appointing elders on Crete (Titus 1:5), Timothy going to Corinth (1 Cor. 4:17) and Epaphroditus to the Philippians (Phil 2:25-30). Even when Paul wasn’t with those churches, we read that he was thinking about them and praying for them(2 Cor. 11:28, 1 Thes. 2:17, Phil. 1:3-11). Paul carried these churches in his heart and used his team to convey that care and concern to them when he couldn’t. 

 

We see Paul’s heart for local churches in Acts 20. The mission calls Paul onwards, but such is his fatherly concern for the elders he has set in place in Ephesus that he asks them to journey 50 miles to the port at Miletus so he could say a tearful farewell to them and give them some final instructions. We see a similar parental heart with John when he writes to the churches he looked after in Asia Minor, referring to the believers as ‘my little children’ (1 John 2:1).

 

This is the apostolic model. Over time, this model evolved into something more static and pastoral. By the late second to early third century, most cities had churches led by elders that were then overseen by a city-wide overseer or bishop. It was these bishops who gathered to form the first councils: Nicea(325 AD), Constantinople (381 AD), Ephesus (431 AD), Chalcedon (451 AD), etc. The church was organised and busy fighting heresy, but it lost its early momentum. 

 

The Apostolic Model Today

Picture churches led by plural eldership teams, maintaining local authority, yet influenced by experienced leaders who carry the heart for the broader mission. These leaders don’t dominate – they aren’t interested in wading into local church issues. Instead, they serve, equipping the church and encouraging it to stay missional. Local churches respond by getting caught up in this mission, releasing leaders and resources. Could the approach we see in Acts be meant as a blueprint for churches today?

 

Discrete, independent churches that voluntarily choose to be interdependent for the sake of mission.

 

You might think that this is simply a description of how many church networks operate. And I understand that because there are a lot of those around with genuine desires to see churches planted and strengthened and the mission of God continued.

 

But there’s a big difference. While these networks offer peer-level support, they typically lack the kind of fathering dynamic seen in Paul’s ministry—a relational authority rooted in mission, not structure. Many networks might describe themselves as offering a ‘brothering’ or fraternal connection. But the apostolic model goes beyond this.

 

While the apostolic model has these brothering relationships,it has, in addition, fathering relationships too. I understand that this sort of language can get into really dangerous territory really quickly. But just because something can go wrong it shouldn’t mean we avoid it together. The solution to misuse is not ‘no use’ but correct use (1 Thess. 2:11). And when I look at New Testament leaders like Paul and John, I am not referring to their unique role as Scripture writers, I am referring to their trans-local, Ephesians 4 role of caring for churches beyond their own. If the ascended Christ gave gifts to ‘build’ his body (Eph. 4:12), shouldn’t we, as local churches, make use of them? 

 

Eldership teams can still be the final authority of governance in their local church but also receive fatherly input for the sake of mission. In my 20s, I grew up in this type of movement, which birthed the movement I am part of now.One of these leaders of this earlier movement wrote a book on what this should look like titling it simply: ‘Fathering Leaders, Motivating Mission.’

 

The Need for Fathering

When I talk to young planters, this is what they are desperate for – fathering. In its absence, this void is filled by coaching or mentorship. Or failing that, finding older leaders in church networks who can give a form of informal fathering-style input. While I know this helps, this isn’t the apostolic model we see in Acts. The danger is that mentorship or coachingwithout catching people up in a bigger missional urge can become more therapeutic rather than spurring the missiononward. To use the title of the book, leaders need fathering,but they also need motivation towards mission. 

 

When our church faced a leadership transition, we invited a fathering leader from within our movement, Advance—someone with four decades of ministry experience, who had planted multiple times. He brought a sense of stability but alsokept the community on the bigger vision. Genuine apostolic leaders will always do that—it’s how God’s wired them.

 

It's people with big, let’s-do-this visions that have kept our church looking outward. In 2021, we planted out into a neighbouring suburb. In 2024, we sent a young family to the coast to start a church in the city of George. And in 2025, we sent a young family to plant north of us in a suburb called Edenvale.

 

If I am honest, if I had just become a pastor of a church that wasn’t part of this kind of movement, I am not sure our church would have taken some of those risks or borne some of those costs. But it had been helpfully imparted to us that we exist for something bigger than ourselves, that we have a part to play in the Great Commission that starts in Jerusalem, but finishes at the ends of the earth. 

 

Why Apostolic Partnership Still Matters

Our church needs to be part of something bigger. I need to be part of something bigger. And for me, it needs to be more than a brother-to-brother connection. We need experienced fathers in the faith, who have been there, done it and made the mistakes along the way to mentor us, assist us - and exhort usto look beyond our city. 

 

That’s the goal of the apostolic movement or apostolic family of churches. It has its flaws, like anything else. But since I came across this at university, I haven’t looked back. It’s the model I hoped for. It’s what I see in Scripture. And when it’sworking well, it feels like we are back in the days of the early New Testament church - churches multiplied, leaders released, and the gospel advancing to the ends of the Earth. 

 

In that kind of environment, rallying cries like Mott’s don’t feel idealistic. They feel necessary.

The evangelisation of the world in this generation? Let’s do it! 

​

Loaves in the Storm: Navigating the Joy and Sorrow of Multiplication

                                               

Last Sunday we commissioned Ryan and Stacie Macdonald, their children and pre-launch team to plant a church in Portland, Oregon. It was a momentous moment both for them and for us - a dream 8 years in the forming, now became the beginnings of a journey. What a joy it is to send! what a longing fulfilled to join  Jesus in the redemption of that beautiful and broken city. But after the joy of the moment,  I and others, have felt the storms of sorrow blow in. I've never known anything other than leading in a multiplying church, so these feelings of loss and vulnerability are not new to me. But they are no less real.  And they are not uncommon.

I’ve heard few people talk about the emotional storm that can brew after multiplication, both for those who are sent and for those who send. 

 How do you maintain emotional buoyancy in a post-multiplying storm? I have returned to a chapter I wrote on this in my book, Broken for Blessing, in order to steady my soul. Perhaps it will help steady yours too?

Mark’s Gospel describes the disciples navigating through a storm immediately after the feeding of the 5,000. I’d never noticed any connection between the loaves and the storm, but Mark certainly makes one.

 Jesus tells the disciples to get into a boat and go to the other side after the multiplying miracle. Meanwhile, He goes up on a mountain to pray and watches as they make painful progress in the boat because a strong wind is against them. Jesus waits all night before He walks on water to them, and when they see Him they are terrified, thinking He is a ghost. They call to Him, He gets into the boat and the wind dies down to a whisper.

 This is the verse that caught my attention: “And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, for their hearts were hardened.”(Mark 6:32)

They did not understand about the loaves. Sometimes in Scripture, storms are a result of disobedience. When Jonah disobeyed God’s call, the ship he was on went through a terrible storm until Jonah repented. This was not that kind of storm. It was a God-ordained storm of obedience. Some of us have been taught that obedience to Jesus will ensure fair weather and plain sailing. This storm of obedience rips that idea to shreds. Mysteriously, Jesus sent the disciples into the storm to reveal Himself to them. He wanted them to understand about the loaves in the storm. What they learned about Jesus from the high of multiplication was meant to be carried with them into the low of the storm. He was still compassionate. He was still powerful. He was still able to provide for them, this time not with bread to fill their empty stomachs but with bread to nourish their fearful souls. This is true of every storm of obedience. 

But I have found it particularly true of post-multiplication storms. No matter how many you send, it seems to me that you make headway painfully for a while after multiplication. You lose some momentum, which can cause you to lose heart. It’s one thing to lose resources in the process of multiplication, but these losses are another thing altogether.

This is a natural consequence of sending people from your congregation. It’s not just how many you send. It’s who you send: your volunteers, your encouragers, your givers, your worshipers, your leaders. These are all the qualities that make church compelling. Not surprising, then, that it feels like the wind is against you after you send. For those who go, the excitement of the new journey can make way for the storm of loneliness, unfamiliarity, the lack of a large, warm encouraging gathering. 

In the storm of obedience one can start to second guess God's calling.  Didn’t we do what He told us to do? Mark's gospel is clear that Jesus sent the disciples into this storm of obedience.

Over the past 15 years at Southlands, we’ve sent over 300 people to plant 9 churches. Remember, we were a church of around 500 adults and 100 kids when we began sending. Each time we began to recover from the last sending, we felt called to send again. While it’s been a joy to see how the newer churches have experienced growth and life, sometimes it’s felt like we were going backward as the primary sending churches. Other times it was like we were rowing just to stand still. Most of the time it has felt just like Mark’s Gospel describes it. 

"They were making headway painfully with the wind against them."

If you do the math, they had been rowing from the first watch of the night to the fourth. That's about 9 hours. They had gone 3-4 miles, about halfway across the Sea of Galilee. That's about 300 yards an hour! I think it's funny that they were going so slowly Jesus could catch up to them and walk right past them, walking! But it wouldn't have been funny to these disciples, who were terrified and discouraged. 

Losing momentum after multiplication can cause a storm of discouragement and fear to brew in the hearts of the church  and its leaders. Jesus’ command in the storm to “Take heart” was not just an exhortation to the disciples. It was a description of their inner weather system. They’d lost heart: lost their inner buoyancy, something that esonates with me deeply. I should know better by now, but, every time we send, I experience an inner storm and begin to lose heart.

This passage about the storm has helped me enormously in my inner storms after multiplication. I have come to treasure the first three words of verse “He saw them.” Jesus saw the disciples making headway painfully. The word in the original Greek is deeper than simply viewing them. It means to possess significant vision. In other words, Jesus understood the significance of what they were experiencing. He empathized with them and was able to do something about it. The Matthew account of the same storm says that Jesus prayed while He saw them. The truth that Jesus is a sympathetic Savior who is touched by our weaknesses, and that he lives to pray for us in our storms, is a real comfort in heavy weather. I have also learned to take heart in the post-multiplying storm by trying to understand the loaves. The disciples lost heart in the storm because they did not understand the loaves. They were blind to the connection between Jesus’ bread miracle and the deeper significance. Jesus was crystal clear that the miracle was, in fact, a sign that He is the Bread of Heaven. He Himself would be given to fill the emptiness of the human heart. On the cross, His body would be broken to heal our fragmented souls. At the Last Supper, He took the bread, broke it and said, “This is my body, broken for you.” The prophet Isaiah describes the implications of Jesus’ broken body for our souls.

“Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.”  (Isaiah 53:4-6)

Christ’s body was broken to give us peace in our crushing anxieties. His broken body

holds us together when we feel like we are being torn apart in a storm of self-pity, doubt and despair. Because He bowed His head into the ultimate storm on the cross, His broken body is like ballast in the hull of our souls, keeping us afloat when the wind and waves threaten to sink us.

An Anchor for our Souls

The second verse of Edward Mote’s hymn, “On Christ the Solid Rock” is one of my favorites:

“When darkness seems to hide His face, I rest on

His unchanging grace, in every high and stormy

gale, my anchor holds within the veil.”

What a vivid description of how Christ is an anchor for our souls. But what does that mean? What is the basis of that promise? 

It’s taken from Hebrews 6:19 “We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.”

 Christ is an anchor for our souls because he has weathered his storm of obedience on the cross,  and can strengthen  us as we weather ours. But don't miss that He is a High Priest in the order of Melchizedek. Melchizedek was the priest who blessed Abraham, confirming God’s oath to bless him and multiply him. "I will surely bless you and multiply you." So, the promise that is an anchor for our souls is not just a personal, priestly promise. Rather, it is a commissioning promise with global implications. It is a promise that God will lead us on a multiplying mission to all nations! The storm of commission includes the pain of sending and leaving people you love, the cost of giving of your best, the insecurity of uncharted waters, the cold wind of stretched resources, the icy fear of possible failure or rejection.

But God’s promise is that as we obey Jesus our Great Commissioner, we experience Jesus our High Priest,

who calms our fears, undergirds our insecurities and strengthens our frailties. Christ has gone before us, completing His mission on earth. He is a wise forerunner who can now help us navigate the same journey. Not only does He help us in the storm of temptation, but Christ also strengthens us in the storm of mission!

This is a sure and steadfast anchor for our souls. We may still have moments of panic or discouragement. However, I have found real comfort in the even-keeled presence of Jesus, which in turn has made me more even-keeled. The One who slept through storms with his head on a pillow in the bow of the boat is able to give us anchored emotional buoyancy, whether we are the sent ones or the sending ones.

And mark my words, in His time, the storm dies down to a whisper and the wind fills our sails again.  

More than a Prodigal: a tribute to Carl Tuttle

Yesterday we hosted the memorial of my friend, Carl Tuttle, at our church. Carl was world renown in the Vineyard movement and beyond, for writing worship songs that became standards in the Charismatic renewal of the 70's and 80's. Gifted with an ability to write simple, intimate choruses of adoration to God, they birthed a waved of contemporary worship around the world that accompanied the powerful ministry of John Wimber. His songs were anthems that breathed the Vineyard movement. Carl travelled with Wimber extensively, writing and recording albums that sold hundreds of thousands of units. When I am in the UK, I still hear stories of how powerful their conferences were, marked by Carl's worship, the Wimber's teaching and signs and wonders that followed them. Carl and his wife Sonya spent a season leading a church in Santa Maria, which Carl always told me was the happy time of their marriage and ministry. But after Wimber died afrom an aggressive form of cancer, they moved back down to Southern California for Carl take the role of senior pastor of the movements' flagship church, Anaheim Vineyard. 

This was a large and famous church and Wimber's shoes were impossibly big to fill. Carl writes in his book, Reckless Mercy, that he did not have the structural integrity to cope with the pressure of it all. Tragically, he fell into harmful patterns of addiction, losing his marriage and eventually his ministry. 

 I first met Carl at one of our Sunday evening services. He had been literally and spiritually in the desert for 15 years. He was living out in Palm Springs painting houses and was a worship leader for hire out in a little church there. After a few subsequent connections he decided to move from the desert back to his old stomping ground in Orange County, to re-establish his painting business and join our church. There was no offer of ministry at all. Carl desperately desired restoration to God and his people, more than to ministry. I really got to know him when he painted our old  house. It was a massive job to strip and re-paint  a 110 year old house with lead paint. He gave me a great deal and didd a fine job! During that time I came to know a man carrying a huge weight of sorrow and regret, but who also had a fantastic sense of humor. He was easy to be around but I wondered whether his was genuine repentance or merely regret. 

At this point Carl was persona non gratia in Vineyard circles and the rumors about his notoriety made me quite wary. The thing was though, I saw a genuine humility and contrition in Carl. He never asked for formal ministry. In fact, he was willing to leave a paying ministry gig to land at our church. (That right there is always a telling sign of genuine repentance. The other telling sign was that he was willing to go through our membership process. I remember a few ex-Vineyard people arriving at our church, partly because Carl was there, and grumbling to Carl about the formality of the process. Carl wouldn't tolerate it. He would reply, "Just look at us? You don't think us Vineyard people need a little bit of discipline in our lives?" He had a humorous candidness about him. Eventually he co-led one of our community groups and I can remember him leading one song on stage - but he never grasped for it. He was simply one of us, and he was deeply loved. 

I remember calling Sonya, Carl's ex-wife,  one day. I wanted to hear the truth about Carl from the person who had experienced him at his worst. She was amazing. She simply went through the list of rumors about him saying, "That and that is true, but that and that is not true. He never did that. don't believe them. she added that in all his ups an owns, he had always been a faithful and generous provider to her and the children." That clarity meant so much to me, and I am grateful to Sonya for refusing to bless the rumors, even though she had been the most hurt by Carl's actions. 

One day Carl came to me and asked if I would help to mediate a meeting between him and Carol Wimber. I have written about this more extensively in my book Broken for Blessing. Carl carried 15 years of guilt and shame and he wanted to ask for Carol's forgiveness for his destructive actions towards her and the broader Vineyard family. Marvelously, Carol was quick to forgive him. She had had a dream around that time about welcoming back prodigal sons. I watched her from that day appeal to her church and broader family to welcome Carl back with mercy and love, which they did with open hearts. I realized that many had been offended on Carol's behalf.  So, when they realized that she was no longer offended, they dropped their offense. It was marvelous to see. What I did not realize, is that this would mark the end of his time at Southlands Church. Carl loved us, but longed to be united back with the spiritual family that had formed him so deeply. How could I stand in the way of such a family reunion? He was restored to ministry in the Vineyard soon after that and spent a number of happy  years co-pastoring a church in Costa Mesa and traveling as a speaker and worship leader. 

But Carl's deepest longing was to be reconciled to his flesh and blood family. By God's mysterious grace, this happened. Carl moved to Colorado after a series of debilitating strokes. His ex-wife Sonya, nursed him until his death and he was surrounded by his children and grand children. Strange that it would take illness for this to take place. God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. Chatting briefly to Sonya yesterday, I could see that though they were not re-married, the reconciliation with Carl was deep and genuine. what a remarkable woman of grace she is to welcome her prodigal husband back like that. 

I spoke briefly at the memorial about how Carl is more than a prodigal. Without underplaying the damage he caused to church, family and friends, Carl stands as a powerful model of reconciliation to us. For many of us, stuck in relational stalemates, we can learn from this humble, broken man, some powerful gospel lessons that will get us unstuck. I see 6 ways Carl pursued reconciliation that are a model for us to follow. 

1.Carl owned what he could own without excuse. No blaming others for his sin. His sin was bigger in his eyes than the sin of those against him. He genuinely looked at the speck in his eye as more serious than the log in the other's eye. This is rare. We get stuck when we cry "Mercy!" for ourselves, and "Justice!" for those who have wronged us. That results in a relation stalemate.

2. Carl refused to play victim himself and make others villains. He knew it was more messy than that. Carl overlooked offense without bitterness saying he deserved it. When people would say terrible things about him he was not overly defensive. He didn't agree with them all, but he would shrug and say, "I kinda deserve it."

3. Carl extended much mercy because he had received it. Although he had a lot to repent of, he also forgave those who had wronged him, knowing Christ had forgiven him generously. He resisted offense like the plague. He uprooted bitterness and banished vindictiveness over time through repeated forgiveness and remembrance of God's kindness to him.  He allowed God to vindicate him where he was not guilty. 

4. He paid the price of reconciliation Carl knew that forgiveness was one thing, but reconciliation was another. It required the wronged party to desire relationship. I saw this happen over time in profound ways because he was willing to make restitution to those he had wronged. I saw this first of all with his ex-wife, Sonya. She told me personally that he was financially generous to her and their children. He was not into cheap grace.  I think this is one reason why reconciliation was possible.  

5. He treasured intimacy in his final years with those from whom he had been estranged.  Carl longed to end his days with his spiritual family and his flesh and blood family, and God granted him his desires.  He died surrounded by family and friendships that had spanned more than 5 decades. In the truest sense, he died a rich man. 

6. He didn't waste the pain. He realized that some would not reconcile but he did what he could to live at peace with all people. He had this saying, "Don't waste the pain." He didn't expect his sin to be absolved in a pain free life. Instead, he lived with consequences, and learned from them. He was genuinely a softer, more humble, more grateful man at the end of his days. 

I watched God break relational stalemate after stalemate in Carl's life. This is not primarily because of Carl. It is because Christ himself is our peace, having destroyed the dividing wall of hostility between those traditionally hostile to each other. (Ephesians 2:14) The reconciling power of the cross is what I want to magnify here, more than Carl's reconciling powers. But Carl was willing to navigate through the rubble of that hostile wall that Christ has broken down, and so must we if we are to enjoy reconciliation in our strained relationships. In this sense, Carl is more than a prodigal. He is a model of reconciliation, worthy of imitation.