Diesel Fuel for Writers and Preachers

If you pour even a small amount of gasoline on a bonfire, it flames up quickly and dangerously. That’s why every warning label on gasoline canisters will tell you never to do that. Diesel fuel, as opposed to straight gasoline, burns much slower. You still shouldn’t dump a gallon jug of diesel on a bonfire, but in small amounts, the resulting combustion from diesel can be controlled and used for building and sustaining a fire with poor kindling in a way that gasoline never can. It’s just too flammable.

For the last few years, I’ve considered Chase Replogle’s podcast The Pastor Writer like diesel fuel for writers and preachers. Replogle is a pastor and writer in Springfield, Missouri, and he’s released a new podcast episode most weeks for the last two years.

I suppose there’s a place for gasoline-fueled binge-writing sessions, times when fingers pound keyboards like pistons in a V8 engine. But that type of writing can’t be sustained over the long haul or often even manufactured in a moment. You typically can’t script productive, frenetic writing.

What I need, and what most writers need, is the slow-burn of diesel fuel to help grow in the craft over a lifetime. Most writers, if they are anything like me, shoehorn writing into an already full life. And to do that well—to fit quality writing in and around pastoring a church and being a dad and husband in a big family—I need more than adrenaline and Monster-Energy-Drink type writing, the type of writing that soars for an hour or two but then crashes for weeks; writing that flames up quickly also flames out quickly. I need, instead, fuel for the long obedience in the same direction required to excel as something worthwhile. The Pastor Writer podcast has been this type of fuel for me.

As Replogle neared the hundredth episode of The Pastor Writer, he asked for feedback from listeners about ways his podcast had helped listeners, and I was able to share some of these thoughts with him, which he kindly included at the beginning of episode 98. But shortly after I sent him that feedback, the pandemic we’ve all been living with hit and work at our church became all-consuming. I quickly fell off the podcast wagon. Only just recently, while on vacation the other week, did I begin to catch up on all the episodes I missed and heard my own remarks.

Episode 98 is not an interview but one of the occasional monologues where Replogle reflects on some aspect of the craft. In this episode he talked about how a writer can find his preaching or writing voice. We often begin with imitation, where we try—intentionally or unintentionally—to imitate our heroes. A decade ago, when God first stirred passions in me to write, my wife and I were reading together Jon Acuff’s witty, sarcastic book Stuff Christians Like, and everything I wrote that summer sounded like an Acuff knock-off. I was a little kid trying to walk around the house in his father’s shoes, which is cute when you’re three-years-old but awkward when you’re thirty.

The next stage for many writers of finding your voice, says Replogle, involves following the crowd. You discern what the masses like and try to produce that. The final stage of this progression comes when you make uniqueness the goal, where you seek to write or preach as no one has before. Replogle points out, however, that while each of these stages may be necessary in the development of a writer, they are neither the way we develop best nor how we find our voice.

So how does a writer or preacher find his voice? “Eventually,” Replogle says, “you come to realize that a voice is not something you can construct but something which must be uncovered.” He goes on to say you can’t find your writing voice, as with so many aspects in life, by looking for it directly. You can’t find your voice by trying to find your voice. You only find your particular way of writing and preaching, he argues, as a byproduct of pursuing something else.

His point reminds me of that old parable about the phrase “you can’t get there from here.” The origins of the phrase aren’t so clear, but the phrase tends to get used when someone is lost and looking for directions, typically in a rural setting. A guy pulls his car over to ask a local resident for directions to get somewhere specific. The local stares back at the driver, takes a condescending look at the direction the car was headed, then looks back at the driver. “You can’t get there from here,” the local says. The meaning is something like if you keep heading the way you’re going, you’ll never get there; you have to back up to the next town over, as it were, to get to where you want to go.

In the podcast episode, Replogle rebukes the idolatry often involved in the pursuit of perfect prose and perfect preaching. When you go after either of those directly, you end up exhausted and disillusioned. No sermon lives up to your expectations and no article ever achieves all you hoped it would. But, Replogle argues, if we instead have something we love more than the craft, we just might also get good at the craft too. Good writing and good preaching are not to be served but employed in the service of something greater. If you have as your highest aim to love and live for the beauty of Christ, then you just might stumble toward compelling prose and preaching. We can’t get there from here, but we can get there.

I’m sure it takes an enormous effort for Chase to recruit the guests for his podcast, read books by the authors beforehand, craft compelling interview questions or write the monologues, process the podcast through post-production, and then publish and promote each episode. That’s a lot of work. But I’m so thankful for it. Each episode fills my writing tank with diesel fuel, sometimes when I’ve been writing and preaching on fumes.

* Photo by Maarten van den Heuvel on Unsplash

** I was a guest on The Pastor Writer, episode 40, “Reflections on the Pursuit of Writing”

Hard Words Make Soft People: A Sermon on Simon the Magician

A pastor used to say that “hard words make soft people,” and then he’d add the corollary that “soft words make hard people.” His point, if I understand him correctly, was that preachers who don’t preach strongly against sin leave people judgmental and indifferent to grace–the gospel is for someone else, those more sinful than me. But when you preach hard against sin, people become tender, ready to receive the gospel and live in light of it—the gospel is for me, and I’m so thankful for Jesus.

The preacher who used to say this—and maybe he still does—seemed to apply his truism to the extreme, with every sermon preached in all caps. I’m not sure this kind of “strong” preaching had the desired effect. When everything is strong, nothing is strong.

I don’t know how you rank “boldness” or “hardness,” but I do know that over the last month several people at church have told me they appreciated the strong words in my preaching aimed at contemporary issues. I’m thankful for the feedback because, if I’m candid, strong preaching on contemporary issues is not how most people would characterize my preaching most weeks. And a healthy diet of hard words, I believe, does make for soft hearts.

Each year on my blog I share a sermon or two. For the post this week, I decided to share the one from last Sunday.

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“A Name That Lives in Infamy,” a sermon from Acts 8:9–25

Benjamin Vrbicek
Community Evangelical Free Church on June 14, 2020

I’ve told you before about my family’s love for the show Biggest Loser, where contestants compete to lose weight. The participants on the show are not so much trying to look good in their swimsuits come summertime, as they are, it seems, fighting for their lives.

Because the show has run so many seasons, a feature of the show many people enjoy is the “where are they now” segments. These can be either wonderful or deflating. The producers string together a montage of old footage of a contestant, often a winner of the show, going from overweight to thin and all the work they did to drop the pounds. Then the producers cut to the present, footage of the former contestant now going about everyday life. And they either tend to be eating subway and drinking green smoothies or, instead, eating double cheeseburgers or drinking big gulps.

I mention this because, in this passage, we meet a man named Simon. He seems to make a profession of faith. He’s even baptized. But then his Christian life appears to hit some bumps. Or maybe we wouldn’t call them bumps so much as wrapping his car around a telephone pole. And I’ll tell you right now that we do not have footage of Simon years after these events—some footage of “where is Simon now.” But this passage and church history do offer us some clues, which I’ll mention at the end.

What I want to do now is go back through the passage, three chunks at a time. A quick word of caution before we do so. Please don’t treat this as merely academic. The details are different, but the same dynamics in this passage are on display before us in the news and in the life of our own local church. Simon’s story is an old story. But it’s also a contemporary story, showing us what happens when we want the power of God without a change of heart.

I’ll read vv. 9–13 again.

But there was a man named Simon, who had previously practiced magic in the city and amazed the people of Samaria, saying that he himself was somebody great. They all paid attention to him, from the least to the greatest, saying, “This man is the power of God that is called Great.” And they paid attention to him because for a long time he had amazed them with his magic. But when they believed Philip as he preached good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and women. Even Simon himself believed, and after being baptized he continued with Philip. And seeing signs and great miracles performed, he was amazed. (vv. 9–13)

When we hear of “magic,” we probably think of someone like David Blaine, whose magic can come across as a little dark. But when we think of magicians more generally, the image is often playful and quirky—card tricks and sleight of hand. That’s not what this was. When you read about Simon, think more witch and sorcerer and dark spirits. The people were amazed at his power and likely also afraid of it. We read that he first called himself great (v. 9), and then that the people called him great (v. 10). It must have delighted Simon’s heart to have the praise he whispered about himself boomerang back to him louder on social media.

But what happened to Simon? Apparently, Simon is converted. He listens to Philip’s preaching about sin. Simon had lied and deceived others. He’d loved the praise of his own name more than God’s. And he learns that if God were to judge him based on perfect holiness, he’d justly be condemned to hell. And then he hears about Jesus, how a perfect God-man came and lived and died. And when Jesus died, he died in the place of sinners. Jesus took the punishment for sin that Simon deserved. And he heard that the savior rose and ascended to heaven, and he’s coming again, and in the meantime, the kingdom of God was here and expanding. And Simon believed that. We read in v. 13 that the one who amazed others is now himself amazed by the gospel. Simon even follows Philip around because, it seems, he wants to walk in the footsteps of Christian discipleship.

Or does he? Let’s read vv. 14–19.

Now when the apostles at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent to them Peter and John, who came down and prayed for them that they might receive the Holy Spirit, for he had not yet fallen on any of them, but they had only been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. Then they laid their hands on them and they received the Holy Spirit. Now when Simon saw that the Spirit was given through the laying on of the apostles’ hands, he offered them money, saying, “Give me this power also, so that anyone on whom I lay my hands may receive the Holy Spirit.” (vv. 14–19)

Several things to talk about here. It’s a side issue, so I won’t give it much attention now. But perhaps you wonder why the external manifestation of the Spirit of God seems to fall upon the new Christians after conversion, rather than at conversion. In the book of Acts, the Spirit seems to fall at different times, so no precise takeaway should be drawn from a single instance. The best way to understand this delay is as a blessing that the Spirit delayed because these Samaritan Christians, who were already suspect for being Samaritans, would have remained suspect unless the Apostles saw their conversion for themselves. That’s why, I think, the Spirit delayed. It’s not the ordinary practice we should expect today.

But let’s keep our focus on Simon, where Luke seems to point his camera, so to speak. First, he was amazed by Philip, who was doing the signs and wonders we read about vv. 6–7. He becomes a Christian, or so it seems. But when Peter and John show up, the super impressive CEOs of this new upstart—as Simon might have seen them—and they have even more power. Simon wants that power too, offering to buy it from them.

How are we to view his gesture? Maybe Simon’s a new convert, and his old profession exchanged power and favor for money, so perhaps Simon means well by it. Besides, wouldn’t it be nice to have such a celebrity on Team Jesus? Everybody in Samaria knew this guy, from the least to the greatest. Think about how the gospel would spread with a celebrity like him speaking for God! Let’s not fuss about whether he’s genuinely converted or not. Stop asking for the fruit of Christian character to grow out of the soil of Christian conversion before one rises to Christian leadership. Enough with the slow playing already.

God gives Peter the eyes to see his offer to buy the power of the Spirit for what it really is. Look again at vv. 20–24.

But Peter said to him, “May your silver perish with you, because you thought you could obtain the gift of God with money! You have neither part nor lot in this matter, for your heart is not right before God. Repent, therefore, of this wickedness of yours, and pray to the Lord that, if possible, the intent of your heart may be forgiven you. For I see that you are in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity.” And Simon answered, “Pray for me to the Lord, that nothing of what you have said may come upon me.” (vv. 20–24)

Several commentators point out that Peter essentially says, “You and your money can go to hell” (Merida and Willimon). Luke recounts this story to show us that wanting the blessings that come with Christianity can be very different than wanting to be a Christian. I’ll say it again. Luke recounts this story to show us that wanting the blessings that come with Christianity can be very different than wanting to be a Christian.

And we wonder which category Simon is in. Did Simon want to be a Christian, as it seemed above? We read that he believed and was baptized. Or does he just want power—first Philip was powerful, but then John and Peter are even more powerful. He had power as a magician, but now Christianity seems like a way to have even more power, and Simon simply uses Christianity to get what he already wanted out of life. Christianity is nothing more than a turbo button for the life he already wanted.

Peter says, “For I see that you are in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity” (v. 23). That word bond means slavery or chains. If we had asked Simon if when he started down this little magic path of his if he thought it would lead him to such dark slavery, he never would have imagined he’d get here. But that’s what sin does. Sin wants to push further than you ever imagined.

Peter sees Simon as a false convert, at least so far. This is why Peter is firm with him. Peter is firm because he loves Simon. Simon is drunk with power and wants to be perceived as great. Back in chapter 5 of Acts, this same lust for perception cost two people their lives. And Peter was there. He doesn’t want that for Simon, which is why he pleads with Simon to pray to God and seek forgiveness.

If you look back up at vv. 4, 5, and 12, something interesting comes to the surface. Listen to the phrases used: “preaching the word” (v. 4), “proclaimed to them the Christ” (v. 5), and “they believed Philip as he preached good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized” (v. 12). Preaching. Word. Proclaiming. Jesus. Belief. (More) Preaching. Good news. Kingdom of God. Name of Jesus. Baptism.

When Simon tries to get the Spirit’s power, what has he leapt over? He’s leapt over the content of Christianity, the very substance that brings the blessings of Christianity: Preaching. Word. Proclaiming. Jesus. Belief. (More) Preaching. Good news. Kingdom of God. Name of Jesus. Baptism.

This is why, at the start of the sermon, I mentioned that while this story is an ancient story, it is also a contemporary story. It’s then, and it’s now. Luke is cautioning us to not treat the grace of God as something that merely gives us what we want.

It’s easy, perhaps, to see the way some politician or self-help guru might use the trappings of Christianity for his or her personal gain. But it’s not just politicians who are known for this. When you mention the name evangelical, which is in the name of our church denomination, people see it as a synonym for hunger for power. How did that happen?

Are there ways Peter could be speaking to us? Maybe you have become a Christian only because Christianity gives friendships and companionship. Or maybe it gives you emotional support or joyful times of singing worship music. Maybe knowing truth and Bible verses gives you a certain authority on when you post on Facebook. Those things might not be wrong, but they aren’t the core of Christianity, which is love from God that leads to life change.

I titled the sermon “A Name that Lives in Infamy.” Perhaps that’s overdone a bit. Maybe not. It’s a reference to the day of Pearl Harbor that lives in infamy. I said we don’t know what happens to Simon; we don’t have “where is he now” footage. But the passage doesn’t end very hopeful. And when some of the early church fathers preached against certain heresies, they linked it back to Simon, another bad sign.

And then there is the name. The word “simony” was coined to describe the practice of buying leadership roles within the church. I mentioned that to Ben Bechtel, and he said, “Yeah it was, I read all about it in my church history class last semester. Simony was a huge problem in the Middle Ages,” he said. So, Simon has a name that lives in infamy.

Except, perhaps, for one word, the word “previously” in v. 9. Maybe when Luke interviewed Simon to get this story, he had, after taking Peter’s rebuke to heart, changed.

But today, I’m less concerned about him, and far more interested in you. Have you become more interested in the blessings that come from God than the blessing of knowing God himself? Not everyone talking about reopening churches cares about God and gathering with his people—some just want to make a political statement. Have you become more interested in the blessings that come from God than the blessing of knowing God himself?

If so, there’s hope. Look at the last verse in the passage.

Now when they had testified and spoken the word of the Lord, they returned to Jerusalem, preaching the gospel to many villages of the Samaritans. (v. 25)

This verse is fascinating because when the disciples went through Samaria with Jesus in the gospel of Luke, the disciples wanted to call down fire on Samaria (Luke 9:51–56). Now, they call down the blessings of  God in the gospel of Jesus.

Jesus can really change people. There was hope for Simon, and there is hope for us. But if you are to change, you need to hear the harsh words of Peter first. How is this for us, not them? How is this for me, not you?

I don’t know what ways you feel in the bond of iniquity. Perhaps sins you never expected would be so controlling now overrun your life. If so, I say what to you what Peter said to Simon: repent and your sins will be forgiven.

Join us Sunday mornings for our services at 8:30 and 11:00am. -- https://www.communityfreechurch.org

* Photo by Nicolas Hoizey on Unsplash

What if Christmas Doesn’t Come from a Store?

Growing up, one of many favorite Christmas memories was watching the cartoon version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas at my Grandma and Grandpa’s house. We lived in Missouri and they lived in Iowa. It was always such a treat to make the five-hour drive to visit them for presents and sledding and hot chocolate and time with family and Christmas joy.

There’s that classic scene in the movie when the narrator says,

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

I quoted that line in a recent sermon. It was my favorite sermon from all of 2019. The sermon comes from Romans 8 and mentions that—in the words of Dr. Seuss—Romans 8 offers more than a little bit more. Romans 8 offers Christians the deeper joy and more gritty triumph of the gospel.

As one year closes and another begins, I’d love to leave you with the encouragement to forsake your sin and live more fully rooted in God’s love for you in Christ. I titled the sermon “The Sons Who Slay Their Sin and Live.” You can read or listen below.

Happy New Year,
Benjamin

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The Sons Who Slay Their Sin and Live

Romans 8:12–17
Sermon Series: “Joyful and Triumphant: The Deeper Joy and More Gritty Triumph of Romans 8”
December 8, 2019

The song goes, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.” My first pastorate was in Tucson, AZ, and my first day of work was June 1. It started really hot, and for three months it only got hotter. I loved it. But when December came, it never really began to look a lot like Christmas. I didn’t love that. No leaves on the ground, no need for flannel and parkas, no way to cut down your own Christmas tree. Everything that grows in Tucson has needles, but not pine needles. I missed having the signs that told me Christmas was coming.

I don’t know whether you love the Christmas season or not. A pastor named Eric Schumacher recently wrote, “My parents divorced when I was 12. I haven’t had a holiday gathering with both my parents and all my brothers present for 31 years. I probably never will again. It is still incredibly painful every year. And I think I’ll mourn that until the day I die” (Twitter). For some of us, celebrating Christmas is hard because of hard past memories or hard present realities; for others celebrating Christmas is wonderful because of wonderful past memories and wonderful present realities. For most of us, it’s some of both.

My hope during the Advent season here at church is not different than my hope at any other time during the year: to point us to the wonder of the good news of Jesus Christ. We printed a flyer with our Christmas service times on them. I don’t want you to hang it on your fridge. Please give it to a friend, coworker, family member, or neighbor so they can hang it on their fridge. I’ll be preaching the week before Christmas and Christmas Eve, and I’d love to see our church point people to Jesus who don’t often give him much attention.

Scripture Reading

Please turn with me in your Bible’s to the letter we call Romans. It’s in the New Testament, which is the part of the Bible written after Jesus came to earth. It’s a letter written to a church in the city of Rome, a church full of people trying to do what we’re trying to do: make sense of the good news of Jesus for our everyday lives.

We’ll be in chapter 8 right where Pastor Ben left off last week. Follow along with me as I read Romans 8:12–17, and then we’ll pray that God would be our teacher.

12 So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. 13 For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. 14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. 15 For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” 16 The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.

Prayer

This is God’s Word. Thanks be to God. “Heavenly Father . . .”

Introduction

Pastor Ben and I have said to each other that if you’re a preacher who is going to preach through the letter of Romans, you need to be over fifty years old. That’s only sort of a joke. The theology and complexity of thought are too rich for otherwise. One of my pastor heroes calls Romans 8 the greatest chapter in the greatest letter in the greatest book ever written. In my opinion, that might not be an overstatement. I did add it up, however. Pastor Ben and I and Davis Younts (who is preaching next week) are not over fifty, but between the three of us, we have 106 years, so we thought this might qualify us to attempt to summit Romans 8.

Christians commonly call the season leading up to Christmas, Advent. The word advent means coming or arrival. The advent season allows for focused attention backward on the first advent of Jesus as the man born to die and attention forward to his second advent as the king come to reign. We celebrate Christmas between these two advents, the advent of the man born to die and the king come to reign. But during Advent, while all the faithful come to sing about being “joyful and triumphant” as we adore our savior, sometimes our understanding of Christmas being “joyful and triumphant” can seem merely sentimental and nostalgic—good food and family and friends and presents.

There’s that classic scene in the cartoon version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas when the narrator says, “And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

I believe Romans 8 offers more than a little bit more. In Romans 8, God calls the faithful to come to adore the deeper joy and the more gritty triumph of Jesus, which is the joy and triumph that will sustain the children of God in a world long in sin and error and pining until the second advent of Jesus. “[I]n all these things,” Paul writes near the end of the chapter, “we are more than conquerors through [Jesus] who loved us” (8:37). The “these things” that we are more than triumphant over include, Paul writes, tribulation and famine, distress and danger (v. 35), which means we have more joy and triumph than can be bought from a store.

As Pastor Ben opened the series last week with the first eleven verses, he held high the gospel of free, undeserved grace Christians receive in the gospel. The opening verse in the chapter and the great theme in his sermon came from v. 1, which reads,

1 There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

This means that everyone who is “in Christ” has no condemnation from God, not that we don’t deserve condemnation because of our sin but that we have no condemnation because God sent Jesus into the world to take our condemnation for us.

Some of you know that I went through the ordination process this fall. It involved a lengthy oral exam and the writing of a dense theological paper. One of the questions you’re required to answer in the paper asks, “What does it mean that you are in ‘union with Christ?’” This is the theme highlighted in verse one of Romans 8. For those “in Christ,” there is now no condemnation. So what does it mean to be “in Christ”? I wrote in my ordination paper,

Nearly one hundred times in the New Testament we read of believers being in Christ (e.g., 2 Cor 5:17; 1 Pet 5:14). Even more occurrences surface when we include variations of the phrase. In fact, sometimes the biblical authors even speak of Christ being in believers, not just believers being in Christ (Jn 15:4; Col 1:27). Union in Christ covers a range of aspects related to a believer’s salvation.

Simply put, to be in union with Christ is to have your life (now and into eternity) bound together with Christ in such a way that you receive all the saving benefits of the gospel (Col 3:3–4). To put it even more simply, union with Christ is like placing everything good about the gospel into a sack, labeling the sack “in Christ,” and handing it to a believer.

Last week Pastor Ben’s sermon took that sack of blessings, turned it upside down upon our heads, and shook for thirty-five minutes the glories of the gospel into our laps.

But the question hung out there, “What now?” If God has taken away all of our condemnation and corruption through Jesus because we are “in Christ,” do we have anything to do? Our passage this morning answers the question of “What now?” Because of the gospel reality that we are in union with Jesus and thus have no condemnation, in the power of the Spirit of God, Christians now begin to put our sin to death.

1. Put the flesh to death (by the power of the Spirit), vv. 12­­–14

Look with me at it in the words of our passage.

12 So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. 13 For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. 14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.

Paul begins with, “so then.” In light of all the treasures of heaven promised to us in the gospel, what are we to do? Answer: We are to put our sin to death in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Paul proclaims that because Jesus has freed us from the prison of sin, we need to not stay in prison any longer. Jesus threw open the prison door, so walk out of prison. Don’t say in bondage. That’s what Paul is saying. And he uses violent language to do so. “For if you live according to the flesh,” he writes in v. 13, “you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” That’s violent language.

A pastor in the seventeenth century named John Owen wrote a book called The Mortification of Sin. I re-read it last year. The famous line in the book says, “Be killing sin or sin will be killing you.”

Jesus spoke often about this type of violence against our own sin, the war of the Christian life, the “be killing sin” part of Christianity. I’ll give one example from the gospel of Matthew. Jesus uses deliberate overstatement to make his point.

27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ 28 But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell. (Matthew 5:27–32)

Notice that the point of Jesus’s words in Matthew 5 and the words of Paul in Romans 8, do not command us to go on a “sin diet,” like we just sin less and then have some “cheat meals” here and there. God commands us to starve sin, not diet from sin. Christians don’t seek to limit our sin; we do whatever we have to do to eliminate our sin.

And the word “our” in “our sin” is key. Christian, be far more concerned about your greed than the greed of corporate America. Be far more concerned about the sex viewed on your smartphone than the sex filmed in Hollywood. Be far more concerned about the health of your marriage than the cheapening of marriage by our government. God’s view of sin is that of something dangerous, something that robs us of joy and God of his glory. We don’t have this view; sin is something we laugh at and coddle.

There a lot of young people at our church. I love that. I’m not old enough yet to be your father, I could be your older brother. By some accounts and depending on what chart you look at, I’m the oldest millennial, so I don’t like it when people pick on millennials, pick on us. So please hear this as a loving encouragement from a brother who cares: as much as we talk about authenticity, transparency, and brokenness, let us also show one another how much we hate our sin by the war we make against our sin.

When Paul uses the word flesh here doesn’t mean skin and meat and bones but that part of your nature that opposes God. The flesh is at war with God (v. 7). And in the power of the Spirit, we are to slay our sin. Don’t miss that connection with the Spirit. Romans 8 teaches that the Spirit of God in the life of the believer does more than one thing, more than simply telling you that God loves you. Yes, the Spirit of God works in Christians to remind us of all the good we have in the gospel—forgiven, reconciled, adopted. But the Spirit also points out the sinful places in your life that need to die. This isn’t about having a minimum level of holiness before God will love you. Look, I will always love my children. But for us to sit at the dinner table and fellowship with joy, my children can’t be cursing when they think I’m not listening.

The way Satan points out your sin and the way the Spirit of God points out your sin is different. I heard a preacher put it like this once. The condemnation of Satan is ambiguous and broad and hopeless. The conviction brought by the Spirit, however, is focused, narrow, and hopeful. Satan tells you that you’re a loser. That’s ambiguous, broad, and hopeless. If you take your finger and put it in your shoulder and press on it with increasing pressure, that’s like the work of the Spirit, that’s how the conviction of God works. “Do you feel that?” the Spirit asks us. “This particular thing needs to go. Let me help you” he says.

So, in last week’s sermon, Ben told us all the good things we have in the gospel when we are “in Christ.” And this week, we see that being in Christ leads us to run from sin. Let me illustrate last week’s passage and this week’s passage. Let’s just say, you lived in an apartment. A lousy, evil landlord runs the apartment complex, but at first you didn’t know he was evil because he promised you a great place to live. But when it came time to move in, things change. Your rent doubles. Your heat stops working. Your bathroom plumbing breaks. Your electricity cuts in and out. Rats scurry around at night.

So you say, “Mr. Landlord, you promised this, and you promised that, and now it’s different. I want you to fix it.” He says, “Tough.” And every month he proceeds to pound on your door demanding his rent. Oppressing. You can’t leave. You’re a captive.

And then one day, a new owner buys the apartment complex, and he himself becomes the landlord, and he throws the lousy, evil landlord off the property and begins to fix the plumbing and evict the rats and restore everything to its proper place. Thankfulness wells up inside you. However, after the initial euphoria is gone, the old landlord, keeps coming around. He keeps walking with his clipboard around the apartment complex. And he keeps pounding on your door every month. “Pay up. Your rent is due,” he says. “You’re mine. You’re a debtor to me.” Do you know what you say?

You say, “No, Mr. Evil Landlord. I have a new landlord who is kind and wise and powerful and loving and just as he has thrown you off before, so he will do again every time I come to him to ask for his help because he is the great liberator. Security, show this impostor the door.”

That’s last week’s sermon. This week, we’re pressed with the questions of why we would vandalize the newly renovated property, why we are not content with the apartment he gave us, why we get so angry with the other tenants, who, by the way, are all also recipients of his grace.

Church, what in your life needs to die? If that sounds hard to you, it should. But don’t miss the promise. Look again at vv. 13–14.

. . . if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. 14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.

As you kill your sin, you don’t earn sonship, you display it.

In passing before we go to the next point. Let me mention something about the word “sons” in the phrase “sons of God.” Later in the passage, which I’ll read in a moment, Paul uses the more general “children of God” not just “sons of God.” Those more critical to the Bible might take this to be evidence of patriarchal influence on the Bible. It’s actually the exact opposite.

In the first century, only a son would inherit the full and biggest blessing from the father. So, if Paul had spoken of “daughters of God,” many would have gone, “Well, that’s great, but daughters don’t get it all.” This is why Paul says “sons of God”; it’s not to slight what it means to be a “daughter of God” but to say that if you are a “child of God”—whether a son or daughter—you get the full inheritance of the father. Paul speaks of sons of God to celebrate the beautiful reality of adoption into God’s family, namely, that as a daughter of God, you have equal standing in the father’s house. All the children are sons, even when they are daughters.

2. Live as sons (in the assurance of the Spirit), vv. 15–17

Look with me again at the rest of the verses in our passage.

15 For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” 16 The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.

That word of Abba denotes tenderness and intimacy. I don’t think pastors have been wrong equating Abba with our name Daddy. One pastor said, “I don’t feel respected if my children call me Dr. Ortlund. I feel put off” (Ray Ortlund, “God’s Grace Is Better Than We Think” from Romans 8:12–16,” March 30, 2019). In the same way, my children don’t call me Reverend Vrbicek. They call me Daddy.

In the gospels we read of Jesus one time speaking to his Father as “Abba Father.” Do you know the context? Let me read it to you.

32 And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” 33 And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled. 34 And he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.” 35 And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. 36 And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” (Mark 14:32–36)

The word Abba was squeezed out of Jesus during his greatest moments of suffering. Think about that. When our savior suffered, that’s when he cries, “Daddy!” That context should inform what we read here in Romans.

In contemporary, western Christianity we often have the assumption that we know our sonship best when we feel the most blessed. That’s not what this passage says, though. I’ll put it like this. We often assume as we stand in some alpine meadow with the sun shining and our bellies full and our bodies strong, we confidently cry out, “I am a child of God.” We’re joyful and triumphant.

But this cry of Abba Father is more like the helpless cry of a scared child in the dark who, rather than trying to find his own way out of the pain and rather than giving up in utter despair, instinctively shouts out “Daddy! Daddy! Are you there?”

That instinctive cry for Dad is not actually according to this passage an instinct but the work of the Spirit within the child of God. This is the deeper joy and gritty triumph of Romans 8.

When I first received my driver’s license in high school I was a pretty bad driver. I admit it. The number of my accidents reached the double digits. Most were at low speed and in parking lots, but one was not. It was an early Saturday morning in the spring. The roads were wet, and before you exit the highway you round a huge curve. The tires on my minivan slipped, the van fishtailed and scraped the guardrail. I stopped in the grass and got out. The headlight on the passenger side dangled like a detached eyeball. It was like someone took a knife in the side of the van and slashed.

I got back in, drove to the exit, and the other two minutes it took to get to the high school parking lot. I parked as far away as I could so no one would see. I was on the way to a track meet and had to catch the bus. In the locker room I called home to tell my father. We didn’t have cell phones. I remember staring at the red brick wall wondering what he would say. “Dad, I messed up,” and told him what happened. His first words were not, “You stupid son. How many times have we told you?” Instead, he said, “Are you okay?”

You can’t manipulate your impulses; they just sort of get squeezed out. When I whispered Daddy, love and care and concern squeezed out. He told me to get on the bus and we’d deal with it later. So I did. On the way out of the school campus, the bus full of my teammates drove by my minivan, and everyone laughed at me. But I knew my father loved me.

Conclusion

After Jesus was resurrected, he had numerous conversations with his disciples. In Luke 24, we read of Jesus speaking about how suffering comes before glory.

44 Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” 45 Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, 46 and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead . . . (Luke 24:44–46)

For Jesus, the truest Son of God, suffering came before glory. This is what Paul says of us too.

16 The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.

If children, then heirs, Paul says. I don’t know what suffering you’re experiencing. I don’t know if you’re in high school, and everyone is laughing at you. I don’t know if slaying your sin is more difficult than you ever could have imagined. I don’t know if your parents divorced when you were twelve, and you’ve never had a Christmas as a complete family since. But I do know, that if you are a child, you are an heir. His inheritance becomes your inheritance. And if you are a child with a full inheritance coming, you can call God, Abba Father whenever you need him.

Prayer

Pray with me as the music team returns to lead us in our final song. Let’s pray . . .

Traveling Instructions

For all the discord and disconnection that social media seems to unintentionally generate, it can also help us, believe it or not, make new friends—real friends.

Kevin Halloran and I connected on social media a few years ago. He works in Christian ministry, loves to write, and is heavily involved in a church in the same denomination as me. All this means we have a lot in common.

Once, when I posted a picture on Instagram of a “rejection email” I received about an article I had submitted for publication, Kevin shot me a direct message, letting me know of another website that might want the piece. He was right. They did.

A few weeks ago we were able to hang out in person, and he told me more about his ministry. Kevin works for Leadership Resources, an organization that equips and encourages pastors around the world “to teach God’s word with God’s heart.” They provide pastoral training made for missions. (Their website has lots of information about how you can partner with LRI to ignite movements of God’s Word worldwide.)

Kevin gave me a booklet that Leadership Resources produced to help train people to teach the Bible. This is an important topic for me. In fact, last year I wrote a series of blog posts about this very topic. The booklet is incredibly helpful, not only to me as a professional Bible teacher but also for every Christian who wants to grow in their ability to teach the Bible.

Below is an excerpt from the booklet called “Traveling Instructions.” This principle explains why it is imperative that we understand the original context and the author’s intent before we apply a passage to us. If you want to get the whole Dig and Discover booklet, it can be downloaded for free.

*     *     *

Dig and Discover Hermeneutical Principles, "Traveling Instructions," page 5

The Principle: In order for us to understand how to apply God’s Word to our lives today, we first need to travel back to understand the message expressed through the author in the original context.

How Does Traveling Instructions Work?

(1) Not Taking the Direct Route. We are often tempted to read God’s Word and try to apply what is said directly to our lives. But God first spoke through the heart of an author to readers in a different time and place. And so, instead of taking a direct route from God’s Word to our lives today, we first need to travel back to consider what that author was saying to the original readers, and why.

(2) Hearing the Intent of the Author. We must travel back to listen to what God was saying through an author in the original context – the literary context of the message of the book, the historical context of the background situation, and even the biblical context of the overall story and message of the Bible. And while here are many aspects of context which we could explore, we want to focus our attention on those aspects which help us understand what the author was saying, why he said this to these people, and what response he desired from his message.

(3) Applying the Message to Us Today. The end goal of Traveling Instructions is application. After we have discovered the author’s intended response to the message he gave, we can then travel to our day and ask how that response would be seen in our lives and in the lives of the people where we live and minister.

Why Is Traveling Instructions Important?

If we take the shortcut and try to immediately apply God’s Word to our lives, we risk misinterpreting what God was saying through His Word, missing the way God intends for us to respond, and misleading the people to whom we minister.

However, when we do take the time to travel correctly, we discover the wonder of God’s heart expressed through the original context, and the transforming power of His Word for our lives today.

* On this principle, the booklet has this footnote: “Based on original material © The Proclamation Trust with kind permission, www.proctrust.org.uk.”

* Photo by Ben White on Unsplash.

RELATED POSTS

Do you really need to know how to teach the Bible?

Today I’m starting a new blog series. It’s something of a primer on how to study a Bible passage, as well as how to then teach that passage in a way that is clear and compelling.

I’m calling the series “Backstage Pass” because I’ll be taking you “backstage of the pulpit” to see what goes into writing a sermon. Pretty exciting, huh?

I know, it’s not near as cool as meeting Bono before a U2 concert or going to the locker room before a Philadelphia Eagles football game. Still, every few weeks or so during this winter I’ll do my best to share something helpful about how I go about studying a passage of the Bible and how I craft a message around that passage.

Let me also mention what the series won’t be. This will not be a series about how to study all the different kinds of passages in the Bible. This means I won’t cover the issues involved with interpreting a proverb versus a prophecy, and a pastoral epistle versus an apocalyptic vision. I’m leaving aside these genre- and Testament-specific questions. If you’d like to study these types of questions, check out How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth by Gordon D. Fee and Douglas Stuart.

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Instead, what I’m going to focus on in this series are the general tools for studying any one passage and how to teach that same passage.

But before I begin this series, though, let’s tackle the obvious question. Do you really need to know how to teach the Bible?

Well, yes and no. I realize that not everyone will become a vocational teacher of the Bible. In fact, few people do. Moreover, James told the early church “not many of you should be teachers” (3:1a).

However, all Christians will spend their life studying the Bible; it’s what we do. So we might as well spend some time talking about how to do it well.

Additionally, many Christians will occasionally find themselves in a situation where they have to understand one specific passage and say something helpful about it. In short, they have to teach the Bible. Perhaps this teaching will occur at a friend’s wedding, an adult Sunday school class, or a children’s devotional before a sporting event. Or maybe you’ll have to teach when a Jehovah’s Witness comes to your door to talk about John 1:1 or when your child asks you at the dinner table, “What does it mean that ‘All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God’ (Romans 3:23)?”

You can, of course, make something up on the spot, but what if you need to study more? What will you do? That’s what this series will be about.

And even if any of those teaching situations never happens—which I find unlikely in the course of thirty or forty years of following Jesus—still, we are to be those who teach and preach to ourselves. What we learn in the Bible, we need to apply to our own lives.

For all these reasons, I thought it might be helpful to share some of the strategies that I use so that you can use them too.

Though I won’t post about this every week so as to not burn you out on the topic, stay tuned for several more posts in the next few months.

[Picture by Todd Poirier / Unsplash]

RELATED POSTS

Does Everyone Know Your Theological Hobby Horse?

Recently a friend at church (I’ll call him Jeremiah) asked my views, and the views of our church, regarding God’s sovereignty and salvation. Specifically, he wanted to know how strongly Reformed theology influences my preaching. Because I thought our exchange might help others, I asked and received permission to post an edited version of our correspondence.

[Disclaimer: this post uses a few technical terms and presumes some working knowledge of the issues (things like election, predestination, and free will). If you’d like a primer on Reformed theology, John Piper taught a helpful 9-part video series here and Tony Reinke wrote an excellent book called, The Joy Project.]

*   *   *

Pastor Benjamin,

I am interested in becoming more involved at church, and I was looking over the membership book. In that regard, I wonder if you could answer a few questions for me.

In reviewing your church’s membership book, Each Part Working Properly, there was a section devoted to the beliefs of the Evangelical Free Church of America (EFCA), which I am in agreement with. Actually, my only questions revolve around the portion of your book regarding Reformed theology.

It is my understanding that, within the framework of the EFCA, churches have the freedom to express their faith differently as long as they are in line with the main EFCA Statement of Faith.

I suppose an example is the one that you provided in the book about the church that baptized infants. As you say, this would certainly not be the habit of most EFCA churches, but it is not beyond the limits of the Statement of Faith, and thus it is acceptable.

So my questions are . . .

1. How would you handle preaching through certain sections of the Bible, say, one from the book of Romans? Would you explain different views of the passage or only the Reformed view? This is what was done in one E-Free church I attended.
   

2. Are Sunday School groups and other groups taught from a Reformed perspective?
   

3. I guess this last question is more like a summary of the others. Is the “official” view of our church regarding teaching, preaching, etc. a Reformed view?

I think finding a church home is a lot like finding someone to date and subsequently marry. You have to get to know the person/church as you move forward in the relationship.

Hope you can help me out in that process.

Thanks,
Jeremiah

*   *   *

Jeremiah,

Great questions. You’re doing exactly what I would hope people would do: investigating a local church in a thoughtful way. In fact, this is why we wrote that book. We want people to be able to consider the theology of a church before committing.

As for Reformed theology, lots could be said. I’ll try just to mention a few things. Feel free to follow up by email . . . or maybe, if you’re buying, we’ll make another trip to Starbucks.

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Normally, when people ask me about Reformed theology, I don’t like to answer until we first have gained a shared understanding of what Reformed theology is (and is not). Often, I find people are not talking about, shall we say, apples and apples. For our sake, I’ll just assume we are talking about the same thing.

First, your understanding of the Evangelical Free Church of America is correct; as a denomination, the issue of Reformed theology is not decided. Rather, the decision is left up to local churches. But even here (in local churches), sometimes the leadership might not be in agreement. If you ask me, I think this is a strength of the EFCA. It gives Christians a chance to have not mere uniformity but true unity.

When we published the book Each Part Working Properly, it was the first time in our church’s history that we formally declared the position of our pastor-elders on this issue. We did this so that potential members could understand where we stand today and where we likely will be in the foreseeable future. In this way, the book is like a weather forecast, though hopefully more reliable!

I’m not sure what percentage of EFCA churches consider themselves Reformed on areas of salvation. A recent study of the theology of the senior pastors in our denomination reported that, on issues of salvation, 38% favor a “Calvinist/Reformed” view, while 35% favor an “Arminian/Wesleyan” view (and 28% did not specify a leaning). It’s interesting that regarding a person losing their salvation, the results were far more one-sided: 94% affirm that someone regenerated by the Holy Spirit cannot lose his or her salvation. My view of things certainly falls in this majority.

It’s worth pointing out, though, that even if a senior pastor is Reformed (or Arminian), there will certainly be many people in his church (maybe even some on the church staff and elder board), who see things differently. That’s not the case on our church fulltime staff and elder board, but it wouldn’t be uncommon in other EFCA churches.

With respect to preaching, I think a good preacher can (and should!) be able to do a whole lot of preaching without people knowing exactly what he thinks about these issues. Don’t hear me wrong. I’m not saying preaching should be deceptive (cf. 2 Corinthians 4:2). I am saying the Bible doesn’t exist to exalt Reformed theology (or Arminian theology) but rather the gospel of God.

In light of that, I also think that over time, what a preacher believes about these issues must inevitably seep into his sermons. Most of the time this will be subtle, but other times it will necessarily be overt. This is a good thing. These issues matter. In my opinion, much of the pleasure a Christian gets in God flows from his or her view of how salvation takes place.

You asked about Romans. If we were preaching through Romans, which we hope to do someday, the issues of election, predestination, free will, and God’s sovereignty would certainly come up. They can come up naturally while preaching through most books of the Bible, though—maybe every book. For example, as we are finishing 1 Samuel this summer, I could see myself saying something like,

It doesn’t seem that King Saul “lost his salvation” but rather that he was never converted.

Now, you’ll be aware that a statement like this is informed by my view of God’s sovereignty in salvation, specifically the Reformed understanding of the perseverance of the saints. I’m not sure if many, or even most, in our church would notice this connection. I’m sure that some would, but whether or not they noticed, my aim would be to explain the passage in such a way that this conclusion is actually shown to be in the text of 1 Samuel—not merely an abstraction from my broader theology.

I’m probably not the best one to evaluate my preaching (I’m too biased!), but my sentiments here reflect what I’m aiming for. I know you’ve been attending for a while. How do you think we’re doing on this issue? I would respect and greatly value your opinion.

In Sunday school, however, there is more opportunity, even a responsibility, to share differing opinions about secondary issues (e.g. creation, end-times, spiritual gifts). In fact, in our adult Sunday school last fall, I taught on the atonement while we were working through Wayne Grudem’s book, Systematic Theology. When I taught, I was sure to present the differing views, both Limited and Unlimited Atonement. In the end, however, I did share which view I hold and why I hold it.

We’d be very open to someone with Arminian theology teaching in Sunday school or a small group, though we would expect a similar approach from him: fairness to both views.

With respect to membership, we never bring this issue up with people in the membership interviews . . . unless of course they want us to! At Community Free Church, we are delighted to have any and all Christians join who have a credible profession of faith, who are excited about this particular church, and who agree with the EFCA Statement of Faith.

Is this helpful? What other questions do you have?

Thanks for emailing,
Benjamin

[Picture by Denys Nevozhai / Unsplash]

9 Tips for Speaking at a Retreat

Please forgive the self-serving nature of this post. I know most of my readers have neither spoken at a church retreat nor will they ever. This last weekend, I only did so for the first time. My former church asked me to speak at their men’s retreat. It was a long but wonderful weekend.

Because this was my first, during the weeks leading up to the retreat I asked some friends who have spoken at retreats for advice. Here are nine of the best tips I received.

1. Speak to your audience.

I put stress on the word “your” because it may or may not be the same demographics that you’re used to, say, your local church. Therefore, as much as possible, determine who is the “typical attendee.” The host of the event should be able to help you figure out things like age, marital status, and education. It makes a difference if those who attend are largely young professionals or retired blue-collar workers. Also, ask about the level of Christian maturity. Are they mostly people who are, to use the words in 1 John, fathers in the faith or young children? There will always be outliers, but knowing the core audience will help you tailor the applications and illustrations.

2. Listen to the church’s sermons.

Listening to sermons gives a sense of the type of teaching they are regularly exposed to. As you listen, note things such as length (short or long), style (formal/declarative or informal/conversational), and focus (topical or expository). It seems to me that for a retreat speaker to be successful, he can be different from the typical diet of preaching, but he can’t be too different. Sudden changes in diet tend to cause discomfort. For my retreat, I listened to around 15 messages, which wasn’t too hard because I did it on my morning bike rides in the weeks leading up to the retreat.

3. Go deep in the Bible.

A retreat is a unique time. There is space for things you can’t do in other contexts. The attendees of a local church are often transient. This makes it hard to build from week to week; as soon as you make some progress, you have to start over again for those who missed last week’s message. But at a retreat, people aren’t going anywhere. They all heard your last message, which by the way, was only a few hours ago. Therefore, use each of your talks like basecamps up some Bible “mountain.” When you finally summit, both you and they will feel like something worthwhile was accomplished.

3. “Low tech” is better than “high tech.”

Technology is a great thing, but in the context of a retreat, I find excessive technology distracting. I have a philosophical reason for this and a practical one. First, the philosophical reason. People at the retreat are there to connect with others and with God. It’s a time away from the ordinary demands of life; it is, after all, called a retreat. And in a world that is constantly noisy, both audibly and visually, one bonus gift that you can give to your listeners is a technology Sabbath. On the practical side, I’ll add that retreats often take place at “offsite” locations, which means the exact setup is often unknown. Will they have the proper adapter for your laptop? And what if the Wi-Fi goes down and you can’t show that clip that was so important to your second message? It’s better to print handouts if you must have visuals.

4. Join the retreat; don’t just speak at it.

This means that you’ll need to have your messages completed beforehand. Sure, you might want to read over them before each session, but don’t plan to write them. And if it comes down to a choice between a more polished message and tossing the football with the guys, choose fellowship every time.

5. Model transparency.

The stated reason for why people joined the retreat will vary. Some came simply because a friend asked them, while others needed a vacation. And still others, though less than you might expect, came because they were excited about the topic of the retreat. But behind all the reasons, surely those who are leading the event desire that each person will do business with God. You, as the speaker, must set the tone for this. A shiny, sparkly speaker will make for superficial conversations. The audience will be able to tell if all your applications are just “for them” not “for us.” In short, teach the Word as one who is also under the Word.

6. Make it about one thing.

We all tend to compartmentalize. And if a speaker tries to cover 12 topics, listeners will shut down, like a computer running too many functions. Precision and depth on one theme will produce more change than greater coverage. In this way, it’s best to see each of the retreat messages as a larger version of a sermon; good sermons can have two points or they can have ten, but regardless, to be an effective sermon, it must be about one thing. Whatever point you’re making at the retreat, make it again and again. If you sing one song—albeit sometimes with different harmonies—they’ll remember the tune.

8. Include stories and movie clips.

People love stories. I think this is why so much of the Bible is narrative. Indeed, most of Jesus’s public ministry consisted of telling them. And even the parts of the Bible that are didactic, say the Prophets or the Epistles, these fit into a larger historical narrative, the story of redemptive history. At my retreat, I didn’t show any movie clips because of the technology involved (see #3 above), but also because it’s just what I do in my normal context (see #9 below). Still, I tried to tell a few yarns.

9. Above all, be yourself.

Finally, they didn’t hire John Piper or Matt Chandler to speak; they hired you. If you try to be like “so-and-so,” you’ll exhaust yourself and your hearers. Know what you do well and do that.

* The content for my retreat is here.

[Picture by Pexels]

THE WORD BECAME FRESH by Dale Ralph Davis (FAN AND FLAME Book Reviews)

Dale Ralph Davis. The Word Became Fresh: How to Preach Old Testament Narrative Texts. United Kingdom: Christian Focus, 2006. 160 pp. $16.99.

As the full title suggests, The Word Became Fresh: How to Preach Old Testament Narrative Texts is a book about preaching. However, in the first sentence, author Dale Ralph Davis tells his readers,

This book was not my idea. I’m leery of saying too much about preaching.

Well then, I’m sure glad someone else had the idea for the book, because—reluctant to speak about preaching or not—Davis certainly has much wisdom to offer.

He’s eminently qualified for the task, having steeped in these passages for dozens of years and publishing commentaries on Joshua through 2 Kings. Moreover, he’s spent time as both professor (Reformed Theological Seminary) and pastor (most recently at Woodland Presbyterian Church in Hattiesburg, Mississippi).

Warm, Devotional, and Spunky

The Word Became Fresh

By Dale Ralph Davis

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Early in the book, Davis writes, “If what I study won’t preach, there is something wrong with the way I study what I study” (p. 7). In other words, the upshot of observation done properly is devotional warmth and personal application. If you read enough books on theology, however, you’ll know this often does not prove true. Yet as Davis mined the biblical text, his observations certainly are.

Davis’s comments are also filled with spunk. For example, when describing the fire that Elijah called down from Heaven in 2 Kings 1, he writes that “servants of the state” were reduced to “puddles of carbon” (p. 62). That’s a poetically tenacious way to put it.

Additionally, he offers many contemporary illustrations that serve as bridges between our world and the world of the ancient text. In one place, Davis tells of a Chicago Cubs baseball player who insisted that his wife mock him whenever he was up to bat by crying, “You big bum! You can’t hit!” (p. 6-7). Davis follows with this comment:

Now biblical preaching is a bit like that. We need to hear some loving mockery behind us, crying, “So what? What difference does all this study make for anyone?” If we are constantly “berated” that way, it will make us far better interpreters.

Finally, throughout the book, Davis refreshed my belief that it is the rigorous exegesis of a passage—that is, the careful attention to how an author describes who God is and what he is doing among his people—that fuels the engaging sermon. The affections are not stirred by the light and casual skimming of Bible passages so that the preacher can find a place here and a place there from which to leap into other comments. No, good preaching is expository; it explains the text. Or said differently, Davis reminds us that in good preaching, the Bible functions not as the diving board (what you use to leap into other things), but rather the deep end of the pool (what you swim in).

A Book of Best Practices, Not “Hot” Tips

We live in a world that promises quick fixes and easy solutions. That’s not what Davis does in this book; he offers what people call in other industries “best practices,” those tried and true methods that have proven to be the most effective—not easy, but effective.

For example, on page 123 Davis demonstrates two ways to outline a passage: one that smothers preaching and another that fuels it. He uses 1 Samuel 16:1-13 as the case study. First, he writes that you could outline the passage in this way:

I. Samuel comes to Bethlehem, vv. 1-5
II. Samuel’s wrong move, vv. 6-7
III. An embarrassing moment, vv. 8-11
IV. David arrives, vv. 12-13

It’s an outline that’s faithful to the passage, sure, but, in the end, doesn’t generate much of a sermon: “some guy did this, and then some guy did that.” This outline won’t preach because “it’s not telling us what Yahweh is doing.”

Davis encourages us, rather, to consider centering our outlines on what God is doing. Imagine, instead, that our breakdown of 1 Samuel 16 goes like this:

I. The God who provides for his kingdom, v. 1
II. The God who stoops to our fears, vv. 2-5a
III. The God who prevents our folly, vv. 5b-7
IV. The God who reverses our conventions, vv. 8-13

Now we’re getting somewhere. Now we do not simply have “some guy” on the move but some God. That’ll preach.

Two Places That “More” Would Have Been More

As much as I loved the book, let me offer two improvements, which, in a way, I hope will only be received as backhanded compliments—like a man who enjoyed the meal so much that he complained he couldn’t get seconds because the food was all gone.

The first improvement is that the book needs a Scripture Index for future referencing. Throughout, I found the exegesis so rich and instructive that I could imagine myself returning to the book each time I preached an OT narrative just to see if Davis touched on my passage. Without an index, however, all his exegetical trees disappear in the forest. Sure, many of his comments are likely in his specific commentaries, but in the Preface he tells readers directly that he tried to use OT passages not covered in his commentaries in order to not double up (p. ii). I’m sure I’ll re-read this book again in the future to have my preaching juices stirred, but the periodic use as a reference book won’t happen, and that’s a shame.

The second improvement would be if Davis gave readers a fuller discussion of, and justification for, what he calls a “theocentric” approach to preaching. By theocentric approach, he means, I gather, that he doesn’t believe every preached OT passage needs to become explicitly Christocentric, that is, each sermon does not need to explicitly culminate its focus on Jesus Christ. Davis is not opposed to being Christocentric, of course; he just doesn’t believe every passage or sermon requires it.

His discussion of this topic comes at the very end of the book in a short section titled “Addendum (can be skipped).” But Davis’s theocentric approach shouldn’t surprise careful readers; by the time he addresses it directly, he’s already spent 100+ pages demonstrating it.

This review is not the place to outline all of the issues involved with a “theocentric vs. Christocentric” debate, but preachers, and even mature Christians, should already be aware that the extent to which one sees—and how one sees—Jesus Christ in the OT is a huge and sometimes thorny topic.

In fact, I have a book on my shelf that’s devoted exclusively to this topic—the topic of knowing Jesus through the OT—and in the Preface, the author, who is a seasoned and accomplished scholar, likens the experience of writing about Jesus in the OT to a soldier doing an army-crawl on his belly while live rounds fly overhead. In other words, it’s a precarious endeavor. 

But let me be clear: I’m not desiring more from Davis on this topic because it’s the polemics that excite me. Not at all. I’m a practitioner, a vocational gospel preacher. Thus, several times a week I find myself telling others, “This is what this verse means, and this is how we come to know the grace of God in this passage.” And very often, “this verse” is in the OT, and very often, I wish I had more confidence in the correct “move” from the OT to the Gospel. If Davis had offered us more on this topic, I certainly would have been helped.

Despite these criticisms, perhaps the highest compliment I could pay Davis would be to say that, as I read The Word Became Fresh, I felt both instructed as a preacher, and refreshed as a reader of the Word.

*     *     *

A Few Favorite Quotes

“We are guilty of arrogance, not merely neglect, when we fail to beg for the Spirit’s help in the study of Scripture… We may have a high view of the Bible… Yet in our own Scripture work we easily ignore its chief Interpreter. Professionalism rather than piety drives us. We needn’t be surprised at our sterility and poverty if we refuse to be beggars for the Spirit’s help.” (Dale Ralph Davis, The Word Became Fresh, 1-2)

“We tend to get irritated if God doesn’t fit our notions of what he ought to be. We don’t, truth be told, want some God we have to fear. Which is to say, we don’t want the real God.” (Dale Ralph Davis, The Word Became Fresh, 65, emphasis original)

“Don’t be afraid to wade into the nasty narratives of the Old Testament, for it’s in the nasty stuff you’ll find the God of scary holiness and incredible grace waiting to reveal himself.” (Dale Ralph Davis, The Word Became Fresh, 74)

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[Photo by Michael Wifall / CC BY]

In a World of Sloppy Reading

The Problem

We are inundated with information – billboards, commercials, cereal boxes, social media, and the deluge of emails. “Read me, read me—RIGHT NOW!” they shout.

So we do.

Well, sort of. Basically, we skim. We have to. Send me an email over 300 words, and it just sort of happens. I’m sorry, but it does. We look for key words; we look for headlines and block quotes; we look for text in bold.

We are teaching ourselves to read poorly. We cannot get the main point of an essay if we only read 25 words of the 5,000. And if I Google something complex and skim the search results – maybe even click a link or two (including the Wiki page, of course) – then I know “what’s what” right?

No, I don’t. And no you don’t either. We are kidding ourselves. As Tony Reinke has written:

Lit!: A Christian Guide to Reading Books

By Tony Reinke

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The Internet presents random fragments of information that flow at us in a stream—a Facebook status update, a new Tweet, even a random email—and attention gets chopped up into small, disconnected fragments throughout the day. The internet encourages superficial browsing, not concentration. (Reinke, Lit!, 141)

Might we even call this pull towards “browsing, not concentration,” a form of illiteracy – not the inability to see words and vocalize them, but illiteracy because we lack the ability to slow down, to digest, to process?

I’m sure researchers have studied this. Recently, for example, Desiring God released a large survey of how our smart phones and social media are changing us (the former: here and the latter: here). And while I’m not sure how I would quantify the type of illiteracy I’m talking about, I do know that I can feel it when I open my Bible in the morning to read. Too often I blaze through a chapter in the Bible at the same speed by which my thumb navigates my iPhone’s screen. This isn’t good. And too often, even when I put in the time, I get little out of it.

It’s into this type of world and this type of reading – a world of sloppy reading – that good preaching should offer the sweet fruit of a close reading of the Bible.

When I Say “Close Reading,” What Do I Mean?

Close reading (and close preaching) sees details, the leaves on the trees. But at the same time, close reading doesn’t become myopic. It keeps an eye on the forest, making the proper connections to broader themes. In other words, close reading sees the Big Story that contains all the little stories.

Close reading explores motive. It requires empathy. Yes, a character did X, but why did he do X? What was he after? Close reading, as one preacher has noted, asks what is the thing behind the thing?

Close reading attempts to understand unfamiliar words, strange concepts, and awkward sentence structures. Just what is that preposition doing there? And why is this word left out and that word included? Why did a character do what they did? Is there a cultural dynamic taking place that I need to become familiar with to understand this passage?

Close reading attempts to understand how the occasion behind the writing affects what is said and done (and what’s not said and not done). And what can we know of the events surrounding the passage that influenced the author to write what he wrote? For example, close reading considers things like what was going on with Israel when the passage was written. Was the passage before David or after? Before the exile of the southern kingdom or after? And in the Gospels, we might ask, where is Jesus at in his ministry? The beginning or the end? Is he in a Gentile region or a Jewish one? And of Paul’s letters, if possible, we might seek to place them in the context of his three missionary journeys recorded in Acts. And of Peter’s letters, we might ask if there was a specific emperor he had in mind when he says things like “honor the emperor” (1 Peter 2:17). (I personally think Peter had Nero in mind which influences how we read the passage.)

Additionally, close reading considers how a passage has been interpreted over time. If the passage is in the Old Testament, did any New Testament authors comment on it? And with an author like John, can we see any developments from his Gospel account to his epistles, which are generally understood to have been written later. And how has the passage been interpreted throughout church history? And how has contemporary scholarship challenged or affirmed traditional readings? Close reading asks questions like these.

The Harvest of Close Reading

These are just a few of the things to consider when reading the Bible closely. And this means that close reading is work – a lot of work. It takes time, concentration, and quiet. It is demanding. I know.

But in my experience, the harvest is worth it. The fruit is sweet, and it can feed people. It feeds me. And this is what good preaching does, or at least should do. It should feed people something worth eating.

By this, however, I do not mean that good preaching is a lengthy, boring presentation of the process of discovery. It’s not that at all. If it feels that way, I’m doing something wrong.

Consider the example of a farmers’ market. A farmers’ market doesn’t exist to lecture us on all the work that goes into growing a peach. Rather, it works like this. When you stop by a farmers’ market on a Saturday morning, what they are saying, in effect, is this:

Hey, here’s some good fruit for you to buy. Check it out. It took us awhile, but let’s not talk about that now. Just know we’ll be here every Saturday morning this summer with awesome produce.

We know it’s hard work running a farm; they don’t have to tell us that.

But Close Reading is Not Just for Preachers

Growing your own observations may feel overwhelming, but it’s the job of all Christians, not just the professionals. This is what it means to meditate on the Word of God.

Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. (Psalm 1:1-3)

I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways. I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word. (Psalm 119:15-16)

This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success. (Joshua 1:8)

I think Jesus, at least in part, has scripture mediation in view when he tells us to love God with all of our “mind” (Matthew 22:37).

I suspect that if we did press a farmer at the market with some questions about the process of farming, they would tell us that we could do the same thing they are doing, that is, if we just had a little coaching.

They might say,

Oh, you’ll never have acreage and whatnot, but if you are motivated, anyone can grow a few tomatoes in their own backyard. It just takes time and practice. But you should do it. They’ll taste great, and this way, you’ll be more excited to share them with your friends and neighbors.

Sometimes preachers subtly communicate that what they are doing upfront could never be done by those in the pew. This is wrong. We preachers are supposed to “equip the saints for the work of the ministry” (Ephesians 4:11-12), which, at a minimum, must include helping others grow their own fruit, their own observations about the Bible. If we are not doing this, the Bible might as well be in Latin and we might as well be pre-Reformation priests.

Good preaching then, like a farmer at a farmers’ market, should commend the fruit to others – the fruit of a close reading of the Bible. Just think of what the other extreme is. God forbid we preachers should posture ourselves as magicians holding on to our secrets. And, God forbid our published sermon notes would have a footnote that reads:  “Professional driver on a closed course. Do not attempt at home.” May it never be! Rather, the subtext to good preaching should say:

Hey, taste this. Isn’t it good? It took me a while, and I had to pay close attention, but I’m so happy it feeds you. And, oh by the way, I think you could probably do this at home too. Let me help you see how.

Some Tips on Growing your Own Fruit

If your life is inundated with words and information, if your reading looks more like skimming than reading, you are probably normal. But normal means that this skimming probably creeps into your Bible reading as well. And a great enemy of careful, fruitful observation is when sloppy reading becomes habitual.

We.

Have.

To.

Slow.

Down.

I don’t know how much you currently read your Bible. Let’s just say you read four chapters a day. (I pick that because that’s the pace to read the Bible in a year.) If this is you, maybe take a month to not read four chapters a day. Instead, just read four verses, maybe from a Gospel or a New Testament letter. And then do it again the next day – the same four verses. And then, read them the next day too. And the day after that. Write out the questions you have about the passage. Pick up a study Bible and read the entries. Pray. Read the verses again. Pray. Read them again. List your observations. Ask more questions. Why is that word used? Why would the person in the story do what he or she did? What is the thing behind the thing? Do this, not in one day for fifteen-minutes, but do it for two weeks, fifteen minutes each day.

This is hard work; I know. It takes time, concentration, and quiet.

But eating a Honeycrisp apple straight from the tree, a tree you planted and watered and weeded and pruned, is worth it. You’ll taste the difference, and you’ll probably want to share it with your friends.

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Spring Loaded Camming Devices and The Expository Sermon

Picture yourself rock climbing. The sun shines and sweat drips from your forehead. You’re fifty feet above the ground on the side of a rockface. Your arms burn. You keep dipping your sweaty hands in the bag of chalk that hangs from your belt as though that will make climbing easier. Of course, you expect some measure of difficulty—you’re rock climbing after all. But when your pulse begins to climb too high, you pause for a moment to catch your breath. For the first time you glance down. Woah—it’s a long way to the bottom.

But then, as you reach for the next handhold, your right hand slips off the rock. Oops, you think.

Suddenly your right foot slips too. Double oops!

Now you cling with only your left hand and left foot; your body swings out from the rockface like a barn door on hinges. Your thoughts flash to the last anchor you set in the rock. How well did I place it? Will it hold me if I fall?

Climbing as a Metaphor for Life

This situation is a lot like life. You are working hard and go about your days with some sweat on your forehead, or at least under your arms. The kids get the flu, work requires overtime, and drama flares up with your in-laws. But you expect these sorts of difficulties and take them in stride.

Then the CFO of your company announces a plan to “re-organize.” Your job, your income, your livelihood slips away. It’s fine, you think. I can deal. I’m still holding strong. But then your wife says, “Honey, I think I found a lump on my breast.” Now both a foot and hand have slipped off the rockface, and you barely hold it together. Your body swings like a door on hinges dangling above danger. Woah, it’s a long way down.

As a teaching pastor, I think about these types of situations often. And not only has rock climbing become a helpful metaphor for the way I consider life, it’s become a helpful metaphor for something I try to accomplish in my preaching.

But let me back up for a moment.

Lead Rope vs. Top Rope Climbing

There are two main ways to rock climb. Well, I suppose there is a third way, the way of Alex Honnold  free soloing up El Capitan, but let’s not count that as a “way” others should imitate. The first way I have in mind requires using “Spring Loaded Camming Devices,” or just “cams” for short. When you climb with cams, you wedge your own anchors in the rock as you climb up the rockface or you use anchors previously placed by others. They call this type of climbing lead rope climbing, as opposed to top rope climbing. In top rope climbing, your harness is attached to a rope that is looped through an anchor at the top of the climb, hence the name. However, when you climb using cams (lead rope climbing), there’s no anchor fixed at the top of the climb; there are only the cams placed in the rock as you climb.

Therefore, in the event of a fall while lead rope climbing with cams, you don’t need a dozen superficial anchors. Each anchor must count. Each anchor must be firm and deep into the rock. A chintzy fastener placed casually won’t do the job; it won’t take the force of an unexpected fall. Anchors improperly set, even if you have a dozen placed every two feet, will pop under the weight of your fall. Instead, you need just one quality cam wedged into a crevice. Just one cam will hold you when you fall, that is, if it’s properly set.

Deep Anchors and The Expository Sermon

For me, rock climbing with cams is a metaphor for preaching. Too often in sermon preparation I feel the pressure to say everything about everything. But there is only so much time in any given sermon, and a dozen random comments—all true enough—are like chintzy fasteners. They simply won’t hold when hardships cause our faith to slip.

Instead, I want my preaching each week to set just one anchor deep into some aspect of who God is and what he has done, is doing, and will do for us in Christ. People on the face of a rock—people who could lose their grip at any moment—need the stability offered in gospel preaching. I need this in my life too.

Don’t misunderstand me, though. I know sermons do not save people or keep us saved any more than a cam by itself keeps climbers safe. But what that anchor can do, and what a sermon should do, is keep people firmly attached to the rock, or in my metaphor, The Rock. Stability and joy and life are offered to those securely attached to the rock.

Why the Expository Sermon?

Implications of this metaphor extend to how we organize our worship services, attempting to link the themes of sermons and the themes of our liturgy and song. Additionally, consider how this metaphor might challenge Christians to attend church with greater frequency; if you miss chances to insert anchors, you might fall a dozen or two dozen feet before you stop, which breaks bones.

But I want to zero in on preaching. This metaphor is a large part of why I favor the type of sermons we call “expository.” Expository is a term preachers use from time to time, but we rarely explain what we mean by this term. At The Gospel Coalition’s 2011 National Conference, in one of the panel discussions there was a great conversation about preaching generally and the expository sermon specifically (here). In that discussion, Pastor Mark Dever succinctly described expository sermons like this: “In expository sermons, the main point of the Scripture passage is the main point of the sermon.”

That’s simple enough. I like that definition: the one main point of the sermon comes from the same one main point of the Scripture passage. To me, that definition sounds remarkably similar to what I mean when I say that each week’s sermon should put just one anchor in The Rock—deeply and properly.

Don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m not saying a topical sermon is inherently a chintzy anchor. If you ask me, when done well, a topical sermon has the potential to affix our hearts more deeply to an aspect of the gospel than an average expository sermon. But to also be candid, I don’t have the ability to preach deep topical messages week in and week out. I find preaching good topical sermons overwhelming, and I also find them disconnected from the way most Christians read their Bibles.

I realize that many people who read this blog are not preaching pastors. However, perhaps you occasionally have the opportunity to lead a Bible study of one kind or another. I’d encourage you to consider how “making the main idea of the Bible passage, the main idea of your lesson” might strengthen your lesson by giving your lesson focus.

This article isn’t the place for describing all of the tools pastors use to find the main point of a passage. How to find the main point of a passage in light of what God has done for us in Christ would require another article. But once I find the main point of a passage, my next steps in sermon preparation attempt to mold every aspect of the sermon—the outline, the explanations, the illustrations, the applications, and so on—to serve this one end, that is, serve the main gospel point of the passage. When you and I do that as we teach, I think we can rightly call our lessons and sermons “expository.”

And when we teach the gospel like this week in and week out, we will provide our people with firm and deep anchors to the only Rock who can save us.

[Update: an original version of this article appeared on May 17, 2015 but was updated in January of 2020; Image]

Burning Hearts: Preaching to the Affections by Moody and Weekes - A Review

Josh Moody and Robin Weekes. Burning Hearts: Preaching to the Affections. Christian Focus, 2014. 144 pp. $11.99.

[Note, this book review was published on The Gospel Coalition's website.] 

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Do you remember those arcade games with a mechanical bar that slides back and forth, continually nudging a huge stack of coins that rest on a shelf? You “play” the game by dropping in coins and hoping the mechanical bar will nudge the stack in such a way that some fall off the ledge. Most of the time, though, little or nothing happens. 

These tiny nudges always remind me of preaching, whether the granular nudge of individual words or the aggregate nudge of the completed sermon. The more I preach, the more I long to make each nudge count and move people toward conformity to Christ. In Burning Hearts: Preaching to the Affections, Josh Moody and Robin Weekes argue that we make our sermons and our nudges count by preaching to the affections... [Continue Reading]

The Chemical Reaction that Was, and Is, my Calling to Preach

It’s an odd shift from Engineer to Preacher, some might say. And I suppose they could be right. It has often felt strange to me as well. When I was eighteen years old and thinking about college majors, I was far more interested in thermodynamics than homiletics. In fact, I didn’t even know what homiletics was.

So how did it happen—how and why did my interest change? Well, I’m not actually sure I will ever know all of the factors that went into the transition. In my mind, sometimes I think of it like a chemical reaction. Chemical reactions can be strange things. Sometimes two ingredients that are unreactive by themselves, when combined, become explosive, especially when mixed vigorously. And now that I have had a decade to reflect on my transition from engineer to preacher, I think I know a few of the ingredients that became the unexpected chemical reaction that was, and is, my calling to preach.

My call to preach came, in part, through doing it—the infrequent opportunities to speak here, lead a Bible study there. And that makes sense; it’s a natural progression, I suppose. Someone sees something in you—some gifting, some potential—and eventually they ask you to give it a try. And it goes okay and you learn, and eventually someone asks again and you get another try. And then another. So, yes, I would say, in part, my call to preach came through doing it and the encouragement I received during those early years.

However, in large measure, my call to preach came not through doing, but having it done to me. What I mean is that the call to preach seemed to pounce on me, irrevocably so, while listening to other men preach and feeling my mind and affections doused in a kind of spiritual kerosene so that I just knew I wanted to, in fact had to, be involved in doing this for others. During the early days of this feeling, if I could have “hit pause” during a sermon by any one of a number of gifted preachers I was listening to in those days, I think I would have described the experience this way:

What God is doing right now, through that guy, on that stage, behind that pulpit, as he explains that passage, with those words and those gestures, and that tone, and with all of that love and passion and urgency, such that my heart is prodded and my mind is riveted—well someday, I just have to be involved in sharing that with others.

This is what I mean when I say that my calling to preach came not only through opportunities to preach, but also, even predominantly, through having it done to me. As I think back to the sermons that I was listening to in those days, I would say that this type of preaching made me say in my heart, “Yes! I want more of Christ; and our God is wonderful; and I’m so thankful for the Gospel; and now I too want to speak, and risk and serve and love and give my life for this Gospel.”

And this “reaction” to preaching still happens for me. Good preaching doesn’t get old. Still, as I listen to others preach (“that guy, on that stage, behind that pulpit, as he explains that passage…”), it still awakens longings.

So when people ask me why an engineer would ever become a preacher, I think they typically want a “sound bite” answer. And I’m not sure how to give them that. Someday maybe I will figure out how to do that. For now, I suppose that I could just say that it had (and has) something to do with vinegar and baking soda, corked and shaken.

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SEEING BEAUTY AND SAYING BEAUTIFULLY by John Piper (FAN AND FLAME Book Reviews)

John Piper. Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully: The Power of Poetic Effort in the Work of George Herbert, George Whitefield, and C. S. Lewis; from the series The Swans Are Not Silent (Crossway, May 31, 2014, 160 pages)

Two years ago, I exchanged a few emails with a popular author (Peter Roy Clark). It stressed me out. Why? Because the author has published several books on grammar and effective writing. I must have reread my emails 10 times before hitting send. And maybe it’s just me, but more stressful than writing a short note to a grammar guru would be writing (and preaching) about three men that were brilliant at those very things—writing and preaching.

And this would be only truer when one doesn’t merely try to communicate the content plainly, but to simultaneously do it with beauty. Now that would be stressful. But is precisely what John Piper did in Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully: The Power of Poetic Effort in the Work of George Herbert, George Whitefield, and C. S. Lewis.

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There is no way for me to know if Piper felt stressed as he wrote about Herbert, Whitefield, and Lewis. If he did, he didn’t say so. But I do know that if the central thesis of his book is correct—and I have found it to be true in my life—then if there was stress involved, we can be sure that there wasn’t only stress. For, as Piper argues, in the effort to say it beautifully, more beauty becomes visible.

And it’s this very point that is the central thesis of the book and the unifying theme across the lives of these giants of poetry, preaching, and prose:

“The effort to say freshly is a way of seeing freshly… The effort to say beautifully is a way of seeing beauty” (74).

Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully is the sixth installment in the series TheSwans are Not Silent. Most of the biographies in the series are adapted from hour-long messages at Desiring God’s yearly conference for pastors (links below). And for my part, this is where Piper is at his best—preaching to pastors.

In addition to the biographical sketches, there is a thoughtful essay on the proper, and improper, use of eloquence. The essay attempts to answer the question of when eloquence is helpful and honorable, and when eloquence is gratuitous, or just showing off.

But I should point out, that this book, like the conference messages it is derived from, is not just for those in the biz, not just for practitioners of words. Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully is for anyone that cares about their Christian witness, anyone that knows the power of language, and anyone willing to get in the trenches with words. For them, the work comes with a promise; namely, the effort to say it beautifully, there will be more seeing.

*     *     *

A Few Key Quotes

On George Herbert:

“The central theme of [Herbert’s] poetry was the redeeming love of Christ, and he labored with all of his literary might to see it clearly, feel it deeply, and show it strikingly.” (Piper, Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully, 56)

On George Whitefield:

“[Whitefield’s dramatic preaching] was not the mighty microscope using all its powers to make the small look impressively big. [His preaching] was the desperately inadequate telescope turning every power to give some small sense of the majesty of what too many preaches saw as tiresome and unreal.” (Piper, Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully, 95)

On C.S. Lewis:

“Part of what makes Lewis so illuminating on almost everything he touches is his unremitting rational clarity and his pervasive use of likening. Metaphor, analogy, illustration, simile, poetry, story, myth—all of these are ways of likening aspects of reality to what it is not, for the sake of showing more deeply what it is.” (Piper, Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully, 135, emphasis original)

On “poetic effort”:

“The point is to waken us to go beyond the common awareness that using worthy words helps others feel the worth of what we have seen. Everybody knows that. It is a crucial and wise insight. And love surely leads us to it. But I am going beyond that. Or under that. Or before it. The point of this book has been that finding worthy words for worthy discoveries not only helps others feel their worth but also helps us feel the worth of our own discoveries. Groping for awakening words in the darkness of our own dullness can suddenly flip a switch and shed light all around what it is that we are trying to describe—and feel. Taking hold of a fresh word for old truth can become a fresh grasp of the truth itself. Telling beauty in new words becomes a way of tasting more of the beauty itself.” (Piper, Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully, 144).

[In my first blog post, Fresh Words, Fresh Language, Fresh Blood, I say something just like this (“Taking hold of a fresh word for old truth can become a fresh grasp of the truth itself.”) It was affirming to hear Piper sing in harmony.]

Links to Conference Messages: Herbert, Whitefield, and Lewis.

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[Image from CS Lewis' study at his home, The Kilns; photo by Mike Blyth]

10 Years Ago Today, I Preached My First Sermon

I had worked for about a month on the message. The church was Grace Evangelical Free Church in Jefferson City, MO. And at 10am, on Sunday, October 24, 2004, I preached my first sermon. The morning, however, was not without a few rookie mistakes.

For example, early in the morning I set my stopwatch on the pulpit; I wanted to make sure I didn’t run long. That’s natural, right? However, I forgot to turn off the stopwatch alarm. During the scripture reading, which was read by someone else, (much to their confusion) the watch alarm started beeping. And continued to beep for 60 seconds. That hasn’t happened again; trust me.

Anyway, the passage was Acts 9:20-31, and each year on my trek from Genesis to Revelation, when I pass though this section, I smile.

It has happened to me only a few times, but when God uses a particular passage of his Word to sculpt your future and score grooves in your soul for his grace to flow, that passage never seems quite the same.

I thought you might enjoy a few lines from the introduction.

In this text, we see some of the early frustrations of Paul’s conversion and also some of the early fruit of his conversion. We see people following the Lord because of Paul, and we see people trying to kill Paul.

It is in these early events after the conversion of Saul, the persecutor of Christ, that we see God’s faithfulness and sovereignty displayed.

From the rest of scripture we know that Paul became the most prominent figure in the New Testament, except of course for Christ. Paul became the great letter writer (the next thirteen books of the New Testament are his letters). And he became the great theologian (cf., Romans). And in the book of Acts, and through his letters, he becomes the great missionary to the Gentiles, pioneering the gospel through all of the Roman Empire.

However, all of this didn’t happen overnight. The quickness and suddenness of his conversion on the Damascus Road would not become the precedent for growth in Paul’s life.

The weighty task of leadership was not imparted by God in a matter of moments, but rather through years of sovereign preparations and through trials and difficulties of such severity that, at one point, he told the Church in Corinth that there was a time when he even despaired of life itself (2 Corinthians 1:8-10).

What I see in this passage is the principle that in “God’s Economy,” nothing is wasted. God does everything for a purpose. What I see in this text is that God is using all of our past to prepare us for ministry in the present; and he is using all of our past and our present, to prepare us for ministry in the future. And I see this here in Acts 9:20-31.”

I preached those words ten years ago today, and now, I see the truth of the message with more clarity, not less. In God’s economy, nothing is wasted. He uses it all, shaping us to be what he wants us to be, and simultaneously fulfilling his mission in the world.

Sometimes this change comes with the “quickness and suddenness” of the Damascus Road, but most of the time, it comes with the speed of a glacier... but also the power.

I saw this in Acts 9:20-31, and I see it still.

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Two Favorite Sermons on the Biblical View of Sex

I've listened to a lot of sermons. In the last decade, I estimate 3-4 per week. That makes for 1,500-2,000 sermons. Along the way, there have been many good ones. The other day, something reminded me of 2 sermons that are in my ‘Top 10.’ And both of them happen to be by John Piper, and both just happen to be on sex.

The sermons come from the Design God National Conference a few years ago. The title of the conference was, “Sex and the Supremacy of Christ.”

WARNING: Do not confuse the order of this title. Our culture does.

Dr. Piper opened and closed the conference with these two messages (here and here). This month is the 10th anniversary of the conference, and the messages are more relevant, not less, today.

Below is a favorite quote from each:

Sex and the Supremacy of Christ, Part I

[God’s] goal in creating human beings with personhood and passion was to make sure that there would be sexual language and sexual images that would point to the promises and the pleasures of God’s relationship to his people and our relationship to him. In other words, the ultimate reason (not the only one) why we are sexual is to make God more deeply knowable. The language and imagery of sexuality is the most graphic and most powerful that the Bible uses to describe the relationship between God and his people—both positively (when we are faithful) and negatively (when we are not).

Sex and the Supremacy of Christ, Part II

As Abraham Kuyper used to say, “there is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, ‘Mine!’” And rule with absolute supremacy. And though it may not seem so now, it is only a matter of time until he is revealed from heaven in flaming fire to give relief to those who trust him and righteous vengeance on those who don’t.

This second quote is the crescendo of 10 minutes of sustained exultation of the supremacy of Christ. Wonderful stuff. Again, the messages are more relevant today, not less.

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No, I Don’t Know Everything, but Thanks for the Reminder

Sometimes, pastors give the impression that they know it all. But this is not really a 'pastor thing,' so much as a 'people thing'—or then again, maybe I’m just a pastor deflecting the guilt. Regardless, nearly every Tuesday, the week before I preach, I get a fresh reminder that I don’t know everything.

The sermon may look clean, clear, and compelling on Sunday morning—only by the grace of God, of course—but it does not feel that way most Tuesday mornings. Most Tuesdays, it feels opaque, like a thick, tropical jungle.

I felt all of these sorts of things this week as we are jumping back into a series in the Gospel of Mark. My task, come Sunday, is to expound Mark 13:14-27 in which Jesus discuses the end times. One commentator notes that this chapter is “one of the most perplexing chapters in the Bible to understand, for readers and interpreters alike.” (James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark, 383).

I believe it; when I translated the passage last week, I listed out some of the questions I had about each verse. This morning, when I typed them out, there were 62 questions. And the list will grow before it shrinks.

Better get to work.

But I do so with the confidence that in God’s Word there is life—something that truly is clear and compelling—and with the confidence that if I will only swing a machete in the jungle long enough, asking God to lead the way, he will show me something worth showing others. He always has before.

T minus 4 Hours and a Preaching Prayer

It’s early on Sunday morning August 24, 2014. I’m at the office. I just printed out a fresh copy of my sermon. In a few minutes, I’ll make the 1/4 mile walk from our church office building, through the Lawnton neighborhood, to our church building. There, I’ll have an hour or so to work through the sermon material before the worship team arrives for their practice.

When I get there, the building will be quiet and dark.

I like being in church before everyone else. It gives time to think and time to pray. Often, one of the things I pray before a sermon comes from a resolution I made years ago. But before I tell you the prayer and the resolution, let me tell you the backstory.

The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards

Eleven years ago, I stumbled upon “The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards,” the 18th century New England pastor. He wrote the resolutions as a young man.

I liken Edwards’ resolutions to your typical New Year’s Resolutions, except he injected his resolutions with steroids.

The final product has 70 resolutions. They have some repetition and all are written in lengthy Puritan prose, but regardless, they are worth reading and reflection. (You’ll find them easily enough with a quick Google search, but here is one site that helpfully groups the resolutions topically.)

Just to give you the flavor of them, here are 2 of my favorites:

28. Resolved, to study the Scriptures so steadily, constantly and frequently, as that I may find, and plainly perceive myself to grow in the knowledge of the same.

63. On the supposition, that there never was to be but one individual in the world, at any one time, who was properly a complete Christian, in all respects of a right stamp, having Christianity always shining in its true luster, and appearing excellent and lovely, from whatever part and under whatever character viewed: Resolved, to act just as I would do, if I strove with all my might to be that one, who should live in my time. Jan. 14 and July 3, 1723.

See what I mean. New Year’s Resolutions on HGH—and, of course, the Spirit of God.

My Resolution and a Preaching Prayer

Over a decade ago, when I read Edwards’ resolutions, I felt challenged to write my own. By now, I have a few of them but only one related to preaching.

Here it is:

1. Resolved, whenever I should preach, that the prayer of my heart, and the subsequent fruit of my lips would be this: that God’s Word would parade in glory and ransom hearts to holy worship.

I love the imagery of a parade—the Word of God in a glorious victory march, captivating the hearts and minds of God’s people, and moving them to holy, Christ-exalting thoughts, words, and deeds of worship.

My other resolutions are, you might say, not as “spiritual,” but I still like them. For example,

4. Resolved, not to let my heart become so frazzled that it cannot feel poetry.

7. Resolved, never to multi-task while eating dark chocolate or drinking pumpkin coffee.

T minus 4 Hours

For now, back to the task at hand: prayer—because in 4 hours, it will be time to preach.

At our church this morning we will finish a series through the Book of Haggai—a governor named Zerubbabel, a signet ring, and God overthrowing all of his enemies. Exciting.

Lord, may the prayer of my heart, and the subsequent fruit of my lips, be your Word parading in glory and ransoming hearts to holy worship.

Amen.

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