Frequently Asked Questions

The fivefold ministry gifts (apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers) described in Ephesians 4:11 are not offices to be held but functions and giftings distributed by Christ to the Church for its maturity and mission. "And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ" (Ephesians 4:11-12, ESV). These are vocational callings, not hierarchical titles.

In line with a conservative postmillennial Pentecostal view, I affirm that the only biblical offices in the New Testament church are those of elder and deacon (Philippians 1:1; 1 Timothy 3:1-13). Apostles, prophets, and the rest of the fivefold ministry are charismata—grace-gifted functions operating within the body of Christ to edify, equip, and expand. Elders are responsible for guarding doctrine and governing the church, while fivefold ministers serve as catalysts for maturity, mission, and theological clarity.

The abuses of the so-called fivefold today—celebrity apostles, unaccountable prophets, and platform-driven evangelists—are distortions of biblical order. These gifts must function under elder accountability and within the church community, not apart from it. Prophets are to be tested (1 Thessalonians 5:20-21), teachers are judged more strictly (James 3:1), and apostles are servants, not overlords (2 Corinthians 4:5). Their goal is not dominance, but obedience: equipping saints to do the work.

From a postmillennial perspective, these ministries are not just about short-term revival but long-term restoration. God is maturing His Church "until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God" (Ephesians 4:13). The fivefold functions are instruments of that maturation. Apostles establish and guard doctrine, prophets call the church to covenant faithfulness, evangelists bring in the harvest, pastors shepherd households, and teachers ground the saints in sound doctrine. All of these contribute to a kingdom that is growing like leaven (Matthew 13:33), gradually discipling nations and reforming culture.

In short: the fivefold ministry is real, active, and necessary, but it is not a hierarchy. It must operate under the oversight of biblical eldership and for the purpose of equipping the body, not exalting the gifted. We need less showmanship and more stewardship, less hype and more holiness, as we labor for a victorious kingdom through a Spirit-empowered church.

The local church should be governed by a plurality of biblically qualified elders and served by deacons. This is not a modern innovation but the consistent pattern of the New Testament church. Authority in the church is never centralized in a single man but is distributed among a group of shepherds who labor in doctrine, prayer, and oversight (Acts 14:23; Titus 1:5; 1 Peter 5:1-3). These elders are not mere advisors; they carry spiritual authority, but only in so far as they are submitted to the authority of Scripture and led by the Holy Spirit.

The terms elder and bishop (or overseer) are used interchangeably in the New Testament (Acts 20:17, 28; 1 Peter 5:1-2). This means that there is no separate office of "pastor" as distinct from elder. Every pastor (the modern understanding) is an elder, and every elder is responsible for shepherding. The church should not be led by a CEO-style figurehead but by a team of Spirit-filled men, tested by time, and grounded in Scripture.

True accountability cannot exist at a distance. Leadership structures that outsource accountability to a "spiritual covering" hundreds of miles away or to someone outside the local church are not biblically grounded nor functionally effective. A man cannot be held accountable by someone who cannot witness his life, his doctrine, or his conduct in the day-to-day operations of his ministry. Real accountability is embodied, personal, and local.

All elders must be submitted to the authority of fellow elders within their own local congregation. This form of mutual submission protects the body from unchecked abuses of authority. It ensures that leaders are known, observed, and able to be corrected if necessary. It is precisely this model that avoids the glaring pitfalls seen in many NAR (New Apostolic Reformation) environments, where charismatic leaders operate with little to no local oversight and wield enormous influence unrestrained by biblical governance.

Paul writes in Acts 20:28 that elders are to "pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers." Oversight requires proximity. It demands that leaders dwell among their people, not above them. If accountability is not local, it simply does not exist. The health and holiness of the church demand that leadership be both known and accountable where it matters most: in the local assembly.

Most of our churches today do not function with a biblical plurality of elders because we are part of a young movement. Our Pentecostal fellowships, especially in the Oneness tradition, sprouted in the early 1900s amidst revival, restoration, and urgency. We were in survival and evangelism mode, not structure-and-government mode. Ecclesiology came later. In fact, it wasn't until the 1960s that we even began seriously codifying our theology and church practices. What started in tents and brush arbors eventually found its way into buildings, but often without the necessary structures to sustain long-term governance. As a result, we built what we had seen: the missionary model.

In those early days, the Spirit would burden a man to plant a church. He would preach, baptize, teach, and establish a congregation, much like the apostles did. But here's the issue: when that church planter moved on or passed away, the natural impulse was not to raise up a group of elders, but to replace him with another "pastor"—a singular leader. Thus, the church transitioned from being founded apostolically to being led hierarchically. We repeated this model over the next few decades with lackluster success. Yet the apostolic model never functioned like this. Paul appointed elders in every city (Titus 1:5), not just a single man. The presbuteroi were the local governors of the church under Christ the King.

Today, the majority of our churches are still led by their founding pastor or a singular successor. This produces spiritual dependency and slows the development of lay leadership. While many of these pastors are godly and sincere, the model itself is flawed. The local church is not a fiefdom. It is a body, and the elders are to shepherd it together. A plurality of elders brings accountability, shared wisdom, and diverse giftings. More importantly, it reflects the New Testament pattern (Acts 14:23; Philippians 1:1; James 5:14). The sheep are safer when there are multiple shepherds.

The trajectory of ecclesiology within our movement must change not because we are failing, but because we are growing. The more we grow, the more we need structure that is not built on personality but on principle. The biblical model is not optional. It is apostolic. Missionaries (apostles) plant churches and appoint elders to govern them. That is the pattern (Acts 16:4-5). The Spirit leads, the church responds, and mature men are entrusted with oversight. We are not reinventing the wheel here; we are returning to the road map laid down in Scripture.

From a postmillennial standpoint, this matters more than ever. If Christ is reigning now and His kingdom is expanding like leaven (Matthew 13:33), then we must build institutions that can endure. A church cannot be built on a single man’s charisma. It must be built on the Word of God and the plurality of wise, Spirit-filled elders. This isn’t just a governance issue. It’s a kingdom issue. We are discipling nations, not managing religious nonprofits. And if we believe our children’s children will be worshiping in the same churches we are building today, then those churches must be anchored in the apostolic blueprint, not the cultural trends of the twentieth century. The future demands faithfulness now.

In order to keep postmillennialism grounded and out of the ditches of either utopianism or cold theocracy, we must return to what Augustine called the ordo amoris — the right ordering of loves. A biblical postmillennialism must not merely trumpet the eventual triumph of Christ over the nations, but must understand how that triumph takes place: not through coercion, but through love rightly ordered, first in the individual, then in the household, and only then in society. "Whoever does not love abides in death" (1 John 3:14, ESV), and where the affections are disordered, no amount of theological optimism will produce enduring fruit.

Postmillennialism proclaims a victorious, advancing Kingdom of God before Christ's final return, but this triumph is not built on programs or politics. It is built on households that train their affections to love what God loves, in the order God prescribes. Christ is not enthroned in abstract. He is enthroned in homes where fathers teach their children to delight in His Word, where mothers guard the sanctity of the table, and where forgiveness and discipline walk hand in hand. The victory of the nations is downstream of these things. "And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith" (1 John 5:4). But faith is not some floating entity—it is planted in homes, watered by worship, and ripened in love.

Postmillennialism without ordo amoris becomes brittle and bureaucratic. It either turns to top-down cultural conquest (which always backfires), or it slips into a detached optimism that avoids the hard, generational labor of building households. But Scripture teaches us the pattern: "He must manage his own household well... for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God's church?" (1 Timothy 3:4-5). This is the blueprint not only for church leadership, but for postmillennial dominion. The conquest of the nations begins with bedtime prayers, table fellowship, and intergenerational discipleship. If the love is out of order, the mission will fail. But if love is ordered rightly, even the gates of hell will not prevail.

The resurrection of the dead is not an optional doctrine. It is the linchpin of our faith and the undeniable promise of God to all who are in Christ Jesus. Without it, Paul declares our preaching is in vain, our faith is futile, and we are still in our sins (1 Corinthians 15:14-17, ESV). But Christ has been raised, and He is the firstfruits of a great harvest (1 Cor. 15:20). This harvest is not limited to some future esoteric event, but is the cascading result of the inaugurated reign of Christ. As postmillennial Pentecostals, we understand this resurrection as the keystone that upholds both our future hope and our present mission.

Partial Preterism Vs Hyper (Full) Preterism

Partial preterism is a historic and biblically grounded eschatological view that holds many of the prophecies in Matthew 24, Revelation, and other apocalyptic texts were fulfilled in the first century, particularly with the destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70. This position can be traced back to early church figures like Eusebius of Caesarea and even elements in the writings of Athanasius, as they saw Christ's kingdom expanding in real time. Partial preterism affirms the ongoing reign of Christ from heaven and the future, bodily resurrection of the dead. It is deeply rooted in covenantal theology, seeing the New Covenant as superior and presently operative (Hebrews 8:6-13).

Hyper preterism, by contrast, radically departs from historical Christian orthodoxy. Sometimes called "full preterism" or "pantelism," it claims that all prophecy, including the general resurrection and final judgment, was fulfilled by A.D. 70. This leads to a denial of the physical return of Christ and the bodily resurrection of believers, contradicting clear apostolic teaching. Paul writes, "If the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile" (1 Corinthians 15:16-17, ESV). Hyper preterism nullifies this foundational truth.

Partial preterism offers a faithful framework that protects the integrity of Scripture and the trajectory of redemptive history. It distinguishes between near-term prophetic fulfillment (e.g., the fall of Jerusalem as covenantal judgment on apostate Israel) and long-term eschatological hope (e.g., the bodily resurrection, final judgment, and the eternal state). In Acts 24:15, Paul proclaims, "There will be a resurrection of both the just and the unjust" (ESV), which he clearly places in the future.

Hyper preterism collapses this future hope, spiritualizing the resurrection and judgment in ways foreign to the apostolic witness. It violates the plain meaning of texts like Romans 8:23: "we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." The hope of the Christian life is not some realized mystical resurrection, but the full manifestation of Christ's victory, which includes our glorification at the end of history.

Preterism, properly understood, is a legitimate hermeneutical tool—much like the historical-grammatical method—in helping believers rightly divide the word of truth. It aims to anchor prophetic fulfillment within the real historical events surrounding the first-century church, especially the covenantal transition marked by the destruction of Jerusalem. However, as with any interpretive lens, when preterism is stretched beyond its biblical bounds—as in the case of hyper preterism—it ceases to illuminate and begins to distort. Taken to an extreme, it undermines the clarity of Scripture and leads to serious doctrinal error, especially regarding the bodily resurrection, the final judgment, and the consummation of Christ's kingdom.

Satan's False Authority Before the Cross

In Luke 4:5-6, during the temptation in the wilderness, Satan shows Jesus "all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time," and declares: "To you I will give all this authority and their glory, for it has been delivered to me, and I give it to whom I will" (ESV). This was not a truthful boast, but it was a permitted claim within the covenantal framework of a rebellious world still under Adam's forfeited dominion. Through sin, man had surrendered his rule, and Satan, the deceiver, usurped influence over the kingdoms of men (cf. 2 Corinthians 4:4). But even in this, he was on a leash, only operating within the bounds the Lord allowed (Job 1:12).

Satan claimed authority, but that authority was about to be shattered. The King of kings had come—not just to save individual souls, but to bind the strong man (Luke 11:21-22), to plunder his house, and to inaugurate a new world order under the reign of the Son of Man.

Christ’s Total Authority After the Resurrection

After the cross and resurrection, Jesus makes a striking declaration in Matthew 28:18: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me." The difference between this and Satan's earlier claim is monumental. Satan claimed delegated authority, but Jesus now possesses total authority. Satan's was a parasitic grasp; Christ's is a divine inheritance secured by conquest (Colossians 2:15).

The resurrection is not merely proof of life after death—it is the coronation of the Son. He has bound the strong man. He has disarmed rulers and authorities and put them to open shame by triumphing over them (Colossians 2:15). He now sends forth His church with the great commission, not as an optional mission, but as a royal decree: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19). The implication is that Satan is no longer the undisputed prince of this world—his authority has been curtailed, his dominion broken, and his gates shall not prevail against the advancing church (Matthew 16:18).

Binding in Real-Time: The Postmillennial Application

In the postmillennial Pentecostal framework, this is not a future victory to wait on—it is a present reality to walk in. The binding of Satan (cf. Revelation 20:1-3) began at the cross. It is not a full annihilation of demonic influence, but a strategic curtailment of Satan's capacity to deceive the nations as he once did. Before Christ, the nations walked in darkness; after Christ, the light of the gospel began spreading to every tribe and tongue.

The early church understood this clearly. Paul declared that Christ "must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet" (1 Corinthians 15:25). This reign is happening now. Jesus is ruling in the midst of His enemies (Psalm 110:2). And the gospel is the means by which His kingdom expands.

Our warfare, then, is not to win ground that might be lost—it is to claim what has already been won. The devil has been bound from stopping the advance of the gospel among the nations. The seed of the kingdom is growing (Mark 4:26-32). Our task is to scatter that seed in every corner of the earth, for the knowledge of the glory of the Lord will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea (Habakkuk 2:14).

Let us not retreat. Let us march, knowing that Jesus is not trying to become Lord of the earth. He is Lord, and He reigns now. Satan is bound. The gospel is unchained. And the gates of hell? They are on the defensive.

The Kingdom Does Not Rise or Fall on Nero's Reign

The dating of the Book of Revelation has long been a point of contention among scholars, with two dominant camps: early-date advocates who place its authorship before AD 70 (usually under Nero), and late-date proponents who place it around AD 95 during Domitian's reign. Within dispensationalist frameworks, this debate can radically shift one's view of eschatology. But for postmillennialists, particularly those standing on a firm partial preterist footing, the date of Revelation does not determine the strength or weakness of our eschatology. We do not hinge our hope of kingdom advancement on a precise timestamp. The victory of Christ is not a footnote to be dated but a kingdom to be seen (Luke 17:20-21).

Why Postmillennialism Works Either Way

The heartbeat of postmillennialism is not when Revelation was written, but what it declares. Revelation proclaims the triumph of the Lamb over the Beast, the exaltation of the faithful remnant, and the judgment of persecutors. Whether the Beast refers to Nero or a more general Roman imperial system under Domitian, the key takeaway remains: the church overcomes through the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony (Revelation 12:11). Christ is presently ruling and will continue to reign until all enemies are under His feet (Psalm 110:1; 1 Corinthians 15:25).

If the Early Date Is True, Then Let the Trumpets Sound Louder

Now, if the early date is true—and Revelation was penned before the fall of Jerusalem—the implications for biblical authority and postmillennialism are turbocharged. It would mean John prophesied the judgment on apostate Israel in real time and saw its fulfillment in the destruction of the Temple in AD 70. That would not only confirm prophetic accuracy, it would demonstrate the covenantal shift from the old order to the new, from Jerusalem below to the heavenly city above (Galatians 4:24-26; Hebrews 12:22). It would seal the church's role as the inheritor of the kingdom and the focal point of God's redemptive history.

Historic Postmillennialism Has Long Endured a Late Date

It is important to note that many of the great champions of postmillennialism throughout history held to the later date of Revelation. Jonathan Edwards, B.B. Warfield, and even Charles Hodge were not known for insisting on a pre-70 AD date, yet their eschatological optimism remained unfazed. They saw Revelation not as a sealed cryptogram but as a symbolic drama pointing to the long war between Christ and Satan across the ages—a war in which the church triumphs through the gospel.

Our Foundation Is Christ, Not Chronology

Postmillennialism is not a house of cards built on whether Nero or Domitian sat on Rome's throne when John wrote his visions. It is built on the exaltation of Christ, the expansion of His kingdom, and the Spirit-empowered mission of the church to disciple the nations. That said, if the early date is proven, then we are not just holding a winning hand—we're playing with a royal flush. The church is not waiting for victory. She is walking in it, proclaiming the risen King who said, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me" (Matthew 28:18).