Have you ever been on the outside and wanted in? Have you observed a tight-knit group, and longed to be part of it? Maybe you’ve sought a position at a table, believing that it can give you status, power, opportunities, validation… And sure, perhaps you’ve had to push and strive a little to get invited in – maybe even compromise or manipulate. But you made it! And then once you’re in, have you found that it lives up to your expectations? Or has it led to a new kind of terror – the fear of falling out again – such that once in, you’ll now do anything to stay in? 

C.S. Lewis calls this The Inner Ring. It’s his way of describing the exclusive circles we create and are drawn to. Our desire to be included rather than excluded; to be ‘in’ and to stay ‘in’ a group that gives us a sense of acceptance, power, and validation. Lewis argues that,

‘this desire is one of the great permanent mainsprings of human action… And if it is one of the permanent mainsprings then you may be quite sure of this. Unless you take measures to prevent it, this desire is going to be one of the chief motives of your life.’

The lure of the Inner Ring is subtle, but powerful. And what it costs to be ‘in’ will often be devastating. It will require choices and actions that cause you to compromise, little by little, leading to ‘scounderlism.’ The temptation, he argues, will come, 

‘in no very dramatic colours. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink, or a cup of coffee, disguised as triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still—just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naïf or a prig—the hint will come. It will be the hint of something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand: something which even the outsiders in your own profession are apt to make a fuss about: but something, says your new friend, which “we”—and at the word “we” you try not to blush for mere pleasure—something “we always do.”’

The further in we are drawn, the more we will compromise. And whether, Lewis says, the journey ends in a crash and a scandal, or in fame and fortune, you will still have become a scoundrel. 

The Three and the Twelve   

I’ve recently been reading through the gospels, paying particular attention to the character of Peter. And as I’ve thought more about him as a person – his strengths, weaknesses, and his character-arc – I’ve also noticed more about the relational dynamics between the whole group of twelve disciples. 

Often the gospels simply refer to ‘the disciples’ as a unified whole, or perhaps to ‘one of the disciples’ giving us a 1/12 chance of guessing which nameless follower is meant. But when a disciple is named explicitly, it’s very often Peter. He, along with James and John the sons of Zebedee, formed a core within Jesus’ larger group of twelve. Jesus took them places he didn’t take the other nine. For instance, to the mount of transfiguration (Mark 9), to witness the resurrection of a little girl (Mark 5), or to gethsemane on the night of his betrayal (Mark 14). 

Of these three, Peter occupied a special place, often speaking up as the leader of the group. But together, Peter, James and John held a privileged place within Jesus’ band of disciples. They were, we might say, his Inner Ring. 

Jesus’ Inner Ring? 

Given all that I’ve just quoted from Lewis, you might balk somewhat at the idea of Jesus having an Inner Ring! Isn’t such a thing wicked?

But Lewis is nuanced, and he points out that Inner Rings are unavoidable and are not, in and of themselves, bad things. There must be, after all, confidential discussions and circles of trust; hierarchies and exclusive groups, for the purpose of decision-making, and different depths of friendship. The existence of Inner Rings,

‘is necessary: and perhaps it is not a necessary evil. But the desire which draws us into Inner Rings is another matter. A thing may be morally neutral and yet the desire for that thing may be dangerous.’

This, I think, is an important distinction – between the thing and the desire for the thing. And one that is easily overlooked when considering the hierarchy within Jesus’ band of disciples. 

I have so often heard sermons or seminars on Jesus’ leadership methods. About how he had different circles of influence – the 3, the 12, the 72 – and how that ought to be a model for us to follow. “Who are your three?” I’ve been asked by countless coaches. 

And there is great wisdom in that, as one might expect, given that it is drawn from our perfect Lord and Saviour! But it strikes me that this is so often presented as neatly-packaged leadership principle, and I can’t think of a single sermon or seminar where I’ve been taught about the dangers of the 3, the 12, the 72. 

We’ve been coached in the need to actively create Inner Rings in ministry, but rarely warned about the dangers of doing so. Which is peculiar, because the gospels are not silent on such matters. 

Luke 9: The Dynamics of the Inner Ring

Luke chapter 9 is a fascinating chapter. It’s unusually long, and it packs a great deal in. But the flow of the narrative is telling. 

The chapter begins with Jesus giving the twelve power and authority to heal the sick and proclaim the kingdom, which they do with gusto (v1–6). Upon their return, Jesus tries to take them aside for a private debrief, but the crowds hunt them out, so Jesus instructs the newly-empowered twelve to feed the multitudes. They express their confusion and inability, so Jesus directs them, and includes them in his miracle of multiplying five loaves and two fish to feed the 5,000 (v10–17). 

Following this, Jesus initiates a conversation about his identity, and Peter – the leader of the group – speaks up, declaring that Jesus is the Messiah (v18–20). In response, Jesus warns them of the challenges of discipleship. Following him will not be an easy road, but will require them to take up their cross (v21–27).

Eight days pass, and Jesus takes Peter, James and John – his Inner Ring – to a mountain, where they witness a remarkable sight. They are joined by Moses and Elijah (themselves an exclusive pairing, selected from all the saints of the Old Testament), and Jesus is transfigured before the eyes of these privileged few disciples (v28–36). Of the three, Peter is the only one who speaks up, offering to erect tents for their distinguished guests. Luke delicately tells us ‘He did not know what he was saying’, and although Jesus doesn’t reply, we’re left with the inference that Peter’s well-meaning offer was soundly rejected! 

The next day, they descend from the mountain and are met by a father who complains that the disciples had been unable to heal his son (v37–43) – a situation which Jesus personally rectifies. He then predicts his death for a second time (v43–45) and immediately the disciples start arguing among themselves about who is the greatest (v46–48), which seems a little odd given that they’ve all just demonstrated their relative inadequacy by failing to cast out a demon as they’d been empowered to do at the beginning of the chapter. The text doesn’t tell us what sparked this debate, but I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t because of some of the miracles they’d seen on their ministry trips. Maybe they were swapping stories, and ranking whose were best? Or perhaps it was prompted by the fact that Jesus had taken his Inner Circle away separately, and they wondered what that meant for their status?

Whatever the reason, it goes from bad to worse for Jesus’ Inner Ring. This is one of the few occasions in the gospels when John and James pipe up, and they don’t come off well. First John boasts that he tried to stop some people from casting out demons, since they weren’t part of the authorised group. Jesus facepalms and says in effect, “Why would you stop them?!” (v49–50). And then the two brothers, seeing that a Samaritan village were less than welcoming to Jesus, offer to call down fire from heaven to destroy the lot of them! (v51–56). Again, a bit rich, given they previously lacked faith to feed the 5,000 or cast out a demon. But they seem to be keen to prove themselves, and were probably a little put out when Jesus rebuked them for their murderous offer, and then taught for a third time about the cost of following him (v57–62). 

Hallmarks of the Inner Ring

Reading Luke 9 in one sweep is a rollercoaster. It’s pretty sobering. And while, as we’ve said, there is nothing inherently wrong with an Inner Ring, it does illustrate some of the dangers. Even when choosing his twelve and his three, Jesus emphasises – three times in one chapter, no less – the cost of being part of this exclusive bunch! And he refuses to allow his Inner Ring to soundrelise themselves – rebuking them for their unhealthy behaviour. 

The similar account in Matthew 20 is even more striking. James and John’s mother request the most privileged positions for her sons, and when the other disciples hear this they begin arguing with one another. Jesus replies that struggling for greatness is a trait of the Gentiles, who lord it over one another, but by contrast the culture of his Inner Ring is service and sacrifice.

Don’t you wish more of those “who are your three?” leadership seminars came with equivalent warnings?

This chapter reveals some of the unhealthy things that can come out with power, privilege, and inclusion in an Inner Ring. Not an exhaustive list, by any means, but do you recognise any of these? 

That feeling of insecurity when you discover that, despite having been drawn into the inner group, there are still limits to your power. Maybe that leads to feeling a need to prove yourself, perhaps driven by fear that you might lose your privileged status. 

Comparison and competitiveness – wanting to be seen to be greater than others. And perhaps a sense of pride that turns ministry success into an indicator of greatness. 

Feeling threatened when you see others who are doing the same as you, and a desire to stop them. (In fact, arguably James and John saw people who were doing better than they were, since these unauthorised ones were successfully casting out demons, as they had been unable to do for the young boy). Isn’t it perverse that we can see others succeed, and rather than celebrating them, we can want to shut them down?    

Lewis makes the point that people initially make it hard for us to enter the Inner Ring. And so once we are in, we then make it hard for the next entrant! Feeling threatened, rather than empowering and drawing others in, we seek to exclude them. He writes:

‘Your genuine Inner Ring exists for exclusion. There’d be no fun if there were no outsiders. The invisible line would have no meaning unless most people were on the wrong side of it. Exclusion is no accident; it is the essence.’

Or worse still, we can become vindictive, and use our authority and power in unhealthy ways. Whether James and John’s desire to burn a Samaritan village to the ground was caused by a general sense of offense, or a more insidious and specific prejudice, we can’t be sure. But either way, it is an ugly depiction of something toxic, and all too easy for us to fall into. 

Breaking desire for the Inner Ring

So should we jettison exclusive groups in ministry? Of course not! There is much to commend about Jesus’ model of the 3, the 12, and the 72. But there is also much to be wary of.

An exclusive group – an Inner Ring – will always be a deeply formative space, for good or for bad. It is formative for those within, and can also be formative for those on the outside, looking in. We need to pay attention to how these groups are forming us, in our habits and our hearts. Like Jesus, we must teach about the cost of true discipleship, emphasising that entry into the Inner Ring doesn’t come at the price of scounderlisation, but calling to a higher level of integrity.

For those of us who feel on the outside of such groups, we should ask ourselves whether there is an unhealthy desire to be ‘in’ that’s driving and motivating us, and whether that desire might push us to compromise and scounderlise ourselves.

And for those of us already ‘in’, we must ask ourselves regularly how inclusion in an Inner Ring is shaping us. Is it pushing us more towards exclusivity, and disempowering others to keep our own position secure? Or is it shaping us towards Christlike servanthood?

As Lewis writes,

‘The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it.’

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