Religion

Preaching As Invitation

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In our zeal to do our best, sometimes we might over deliver in a sermon.  For example, we might over deliver on the content of the passage so that listeners get the sense that they have no exhausted that passage and so have no need to return to it.  We might over deliver on the application of the passage so that listeners get the sense that the work of the passage has been done and they have no need to ponder further how they might live in light of it.  We might over deliver on the “experience” of the passage so that listeners get the sense taht heir encounter with God in that passage is now done and they have no real invitation for further engagement with Him.

Let’s be sure to prepare and preach a passage to the best of our ability.  The process may be exhausting at times, as well as a delightful privilege.  However, the sermon must not exhaust the listener’s sense of invitation.  Let’s present the passage in such a way that we invite people into the passage and the Scriptures more.  Let’s present the message in such a way that we invite people into the delight of relationship with Christ more.

One example.  This Sunday I am preaching the Mary and Martha incident in Luke 10.  What a tragedy it would be if I thoroughly satisfied listeners with the key distinction of the priority of relationship with Christ and service for Christ.  If people left that sermon happy that they had seen the difference and know what the passage is saying, but do not feel the implicit invitation to join Mary at Jesus’ feet and enjoy that relationship for themselves . . . if that happens, then I may have over-preached.

Preaching is an invitation into the text, more than that, an invitation into the delighted relationship offered to us as God offers His heart in the Word by His Spirit.

The Feelings of the Preacher

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Allow me to quote from Arturo Azurdia’s Spirit Empowered Preaching (p126):

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In a manner of speaking, [the preacher] can say, a la Eric Liddel, “When I preach I feel His pleasure.”  However, it is also importrant to acknowledge that there are occasions when, to the preacher, the presence and power of the Spirit of God seem absent in any sensible way.  Distraction rules his mind.  Words come slugglishly.  Passion seems forced.  It is not uncommon for the gospel preacher to feel as though he has failed miserably in his attempt to deliver the word of God. On not a few Sunday afternoons I have been filled with such deep personal disappointment I have declared to my wife that I will never preach again.  One seasoned preacher has said aptly:

The pulpit calls those anointed to it as the sea calls its sailors, and like the sea it batters and bruises and does not rest.  To preach, to really preach, is to die naked a little at a time, and to know each time you do it that you must do it again.

To be sure, there will be Sundays when the man of God will have no sense of the operation of the Holy Spirit in his preaching.  Nevertheless, he must learn that any lack of the Spirt’s ‘felt presence’ on his part is not the infallible barometer of divine work among the congregation.

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How true this is.  We must learn not to measure the work of the Spirit by the feelings we have after going through the experience of preaching.  Nevertheless, let’s not swing to the other extreme and neglect all awareness of feelings.  It is easy to become mechanical in an attempt to avoid being driven by emotionalism.  Surely the God who made us as heart-driven creatures in His own image longs for us to know the fullness of every life experience, including preaching, with feelings engaged rather than disengaged.  Don’t trust the feelings in judging the work of the Spirit through your preaching.  Equally don’t neglect the feelings, part of which are designed to function in our personal engagement with a loving God who pours out His love into our hearts by the Spirit whom He has given to us.

Some preachers are too easily swayed by battered and confused feelings.  Others act like robots, dutifully resisting all things affectionate.  Let’s be truly engaged with God at the heart level, pouring out our ministry as a fragrant offering to Him, experiencing the rollercoaster times and the calm times, loving God with all our hearts, and mind, and bodies, and loving others fully too.


Private Prayer

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I would never claim to be an expert in prayer.  I wish I was.  In fact, I repeatedly feel the urge to become one.  However, personal inadequacies in prayer do not mean that I dismiss it as unimportant in ministry.  I really appreciate this brief quote from Calvin Miller:

Preaching, in one sense, merely discharges the firearm that God has loaded in the silent place.

Yesterday I wrote about the concept of seeking prayer support and prayer cover for the ministry that we are involved in.  As vital as that is, it can never be a substitute for personal, private prayer.  I am a little sad at the changing of the season, because this summer I have grown to love an outdoor location nearby where I can go and pray, and dream, and think, and pray some more.  Perhaps it will still work without leaves and with rain, we’ll see.

It is important to find a way, a place, a time, for regular uninterrupted communing with the Lord.  A time to dream together about the future, to think together about the present, to weep together, to worship together, to be together with Him.  I remember the comment of one faculty member at the seminary I attended concerning another – he is a real man of prayer.  I’m not sure how that could be known, but actually it does show, doesn’t it?

In three or four decades time I hope people might say that about me . . . but for that to happen I need to be a man of prayer now.  What can we give up to free up time for prayer?  What else has the same sense of weightiness as fellowship with our Lord? Personal, private prayer.  Nothing else comes close.

Covered in Prayer?

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“It is no marvel that the pulpit is so powerless and ministers so often disheartened when there are so few who hold up their hands …. O, you blood bought churches, your ministers need your prayers!” (Gardiner Spring)

Is there any inconsistency between what we say and what we practice in regard to prayer and preaching?  If we, as preachers, genuinely believe that our preaching is dependent for its power not on technique, ability, skill, etc., but rather on the power of God Himself.  If we, as preachers, are aware of the spiritual battle that rages among believers and not-yet-believers during the weekly routine of church life.  If we, as preachers, are aware of our own struggles and weaknesses in the complex experience of life and ministry.  Well . . . shouldn’t the pursuit of prayer for the ministry be paramount in our many lists of priorities?

Do we diligently seek out prayer partners and ask them to stand with us?  Not because we are somehow special individuals, but because the ministry we are involved in is itself a special task for which we are inadequate?  Do we express to our listeners our need for prayer, or do we give the impression, even inadvertently, that we have it all together?

And finally, what about intercessory prayer meetings before and during and after the preaching of the Word?  In some circles this is standard practice.  In others it is unheard of.  Why?  If it is a spiritual battle, if it is by God’s strength alone, if it is a task too great for us to handle in our strength, then why not?  As I look back on last Sunday’s ministry, perhaps my greatest regret is that I didn’t request a simultaneous prayer gathering – even just two or three people praying for those listening, for the one speaking, for God’s power in it all.

(And just to be consistent with what I have written, here’s a link to our last couple of mini-updates . . . if you can spare a couple of minutes, I’d really value your prayers – http://pouredout.org/?page_id=580 – let me know if you’d like to receive our prayer letter regularly.)

Are We Rushing Headlong?

/ Peter Mead / 4 Comments

I can’t get away from the fact that Mondays are strange days for people who preach.  Whether you earn your living through preaching/pastoral ministry, or whether you earn your living in another line of work, Mondays are strange.

It’s not that Mondays are particularly unique in themselves, it’s just that they come after Sundays.  Profound, I know.  After all the giving out on a Sunday, Monday comes with its strange mix of physical weariness, emotional vulnerability, spiritual mixed-feelings, and yet also a sense of subdued excitement about the week ahead, the opportunities to come, the adventure of knowing Christ and serving Him continues.  I’m very excited for this week and all that it holds, but tired too, probably not super productive in some respects today.

Whatever your approach to Mondays, it’s good to be aware of all that is going on.  Some people just rest, others do mindless admin tasks, others jump into new and exciting projects, others have no choice but to lift themselves for work.  Whatever your approach, recognize the complexity of the person God made you to be.  Recognize the physical needs for rest, relaxation, exercise.  Recognize the emotional needs for refreshment, fellowship, alone-time, laughter, or whatever else.  Recognize the spiritual needs for time with the Lord, alertness to temptation, renewed vision.  Recognize the mental needs for down-time, for reading, for something different, something stimulating.  Recognize the complexity of you, and prayerfully handle today well.

A Monday well-handled seems to make for a productive and energized week.  Somehow it’s not possible to rush headlong from a busy Sunday into Tuesday – we need a Monday first!

Time To Process?

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I have been enjoying listening to Howard Hendricks lately.  I’d like to intersperse some of his comments with my own.  It’s almost like an interview, except that I’ve never met him and it doesn’t quite work as a pseudo-interview.  Nevertheless, his words are in “quotes.”

“My great concern for my students is that they don’t have enough time to process what they’re getting at seminary . . . the firehose.”

This is a good point, for any seminary students reading this site, be sure to carve out some half-days or full-days during the year to reflect, to journal, to process, to pray, to think.  I’m not saying all of this can be done on a few days spread out through the year, but I am saying it cannot be done simply through daily devotions and journaling when the pressure is on, when the hose is blasting!

But what about the preacher?  Do we have preachers preaching when the well is dry?  What would Prof.Hendricks like to do for preachers and pastors?

“After every seven years, I would invest to have you come back to seminary for one year.  We’ll pay all the costs, transportation, food, etc.  You don’t have to pass anything, you just have to process.  I think we could transform the ministry!”

I tend to agree, although I haven’t found the seminary offering this form of sabbatical program yet.

“Because we’re not doing it, and that’s why we’re suffering.  We’re dumbing down the gospel, we’re dumbing down the Word of God.  Every year the basic knowledge drops.  Our churches are not teaching Bible.”

That’s a bit of a generalization, how do you support that?

“Their product is demonstrating that they’re not teaching the Bible.  Because people need time to process what’s going on, and what are you planning to do about it.”

Ok, good point.  This means we have gone from seminary students, to pastors, to people in the pew.   Are they getting time to process what they receive?  Is there space to process during the service?  Is there space to process during the church week?  Do we jump from one message to another, from one passage in preaching to another in home groups?  Where’s the time to process?

Perhaps we should consider the processing space in our own lives, and in the lives of others in the church.

Supreme Need

/ Peter Mead / 1 Comment

Just one more quote from James Stewart’s, Heralds of God (p220-1):

When all is said and done, the supreme need of the Church is the same in the twentieth century as in the first: it is men on fire for Christ.

I beg you not to commit the fearful blunder of damping down that flame.  It is, of course, understandable and right that you who are going out into the ministry should distrust, and set your faces against, the spurious fervour which notoriously brings discredit on the faith.  But the pity is that there are preachers so frightened of this taint that they have actually done violence to the flame Christ has kindled within them, choosing deliberately an attitude of cool and imperturbable detachment, and perhaps even confounding frigidity with philosophic depth and logical precision with spiritual power.  Let us have precision of utterance and clarity of exposition by all means: but even precision and logic are bought too dear if they stifle the living flame.  The radical mistake, of course, is in supposing that precision and the heart on fire are somehow exclusive of each other.

I have thoroughly enjoyed these classic quotes.  Tomorrow I’ll move on to some other thoughts.  However, let’s recognize the value of these quotes, and let’s make sure we are not ignoring all that needs to be learned from writers who are no longer with us, but are waiting for us . . .

Appalling Responsibility

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I suppose this is the week of old quotes . . . lots from James Stewart (published in the 1940’s).  But today I am going older still.  This time Stewart, in Heralds of God (p207), quotes from the 17th century:

There is a great sermon of John Donne’s, delivered in the year 1624, in which he sets forth his conception of the awful burden on the preacher’s heart.  “What Sea,” cries Donne, “could furnish mine eyes with teares enough to poure out, if I should think, that of all this congregation, which lookes me in the face now, I should not meet one at the Resurrection, at the right hand of God!  When at any midnight I hear a bell toll from this steeple, must not I say to my self, what have I done at any time for the instructing or rectifying of that man’s Conscience, who lieth there now ready to deliver up his own account and my account to Almighty God?”  Is it to be wondered at that many a man of God besides Elijah and Jeremiah has tried to run away from a commission so crushing and intolerable?  Nothing but the grace of God can hold you to it.  The magnitude of the task is the first element in evangelical humility.

This is what Stewart calls the appalling responsibility of the minister of the Gospel.  Perhaps we would do well to ponder the burden of our calling.  We live in an age when many take the heavy things of ministry very lightly.  Yet some things have not changed.  Not least the impending reality of the judgment facing humanity after death.  It’s hard to justify levity in light of that.

Vast Trouble

/ Peter Mead / 4 Comments

Permit me to persist in quoting from James Stewart’s, Heralds of God, although only briefly this time (p190):

“Preaching,” inquires Bishop Quayle, “is the art of making a sermon and delivering it?” – and he answers his own question: “Why, no, that is not preaching.  Preaching is the art of making a preacher and delivering that.  It is no trouble to preach, but a vast trouble to construct a preacher.”

I suspect this is a tension every homiletics instructor feels deeply.  It is possible to instruct the method of passage exegesis, sermon formation and effective delivery.  But what does it take to form a preacher?  Surely that is a lifetime work of God Himself.  A couple of comments to ponder:

Are you a preacher, or do you just preach? That is to say, does your life live up to the ministry you give from the pulpit?  Are you continuing to grow, to be shaped, to pursue maturity while resting in God’s work to shape you into the image of His Son?  Have you been so committed to studying preaching and ministry and hermeneutics and theology, but lost direction in your personal spirituality?

Are you pouring into the lives of other potential preachers, even long before they ever preach? Again I raise the issue of mentoring.  How can we claim to be involved in biblical ministry if we do not actively pursue opportunity to mentor others?  A preacher is not made in the course of a training course, although I affirm the value of good training as a good steward seeking to fan into flame the opportunity and gifting God has given.  A preacher is made in the course of a lifetime.  Let’s look with a long-term, strategic view . . . how can we invest ourselves into others?  It’s not ultimately about skill formation, but character formation, spiritual formation, life.

Let me encourage all of us to look for ways to help others develop in the necessary skills required for preaching.  But let’s also look with a greater goal, for ways to help shape the lives of those who can then minister (in whatever form) to others.  This is the vaster trouble, but surely the greater goal.

Tragedy

/ Peter Mead / 1 Comment

I’d like to quote from James Stewart’s classic, Heralds of God (p20).  After this quote, I will only have the briefest of comments to share:

If you as preachers would speak a bracing, reinforcing word to the need of the age, there must be no place for the disillusioned mood in your own life.  Like your Master, you will have meat to eat that the world knows not of; and that spiritual sustenance, in so far as you partake of it daily, will strengthen your powers of resistance to the dangerous infection.  Surely there are few figures so pitiable as the disillusioned minister of the Gospel.  High hopes once cheered him on his way: but now the indifference and the recalcitrance of the world, the lack of striking visible results, the discovery of the appalling pettiness and spite and touchiness and complacency which can lodge in narrow hearts, the feeling of personal futility – all these have seared his soul.  No longer does the zeal of God’s House devour him.  No longer does he mount the pulpit steps in thrilled expectancy that Jesus Christ will come amongst His folk that day, travelling in the greatness of His strength, mighty to save.  Dully and drearily he speaks now about what once seemed to him the most dramatic tidings in the world.  the edge and verve and passion of the message of divine forgiveness, the exultant, lyrical assurance of the presence of the risen Lord, the amazement of supernatural grace, the urge to cry “Woe is me if I preach not the Gospel” – all have gone.  The man has lost heart.  He is disillusioned.  And that, for an ambassador of Christ, is tragedy.

Amen.