Consumer v. Covenant Relationships

There’s a lot of pressure on engaged couples to have the perfect wedding. I recently wrote about this in an article called, “The Problem with the Pinterest Dream Wedding.”

After the article was published, an author, Catherine Parks, reached out to me. Parks co-authored a book with her mother about this very topic. It’s called, A Christ-Centered Wedding: Rejoicing in the Gospel on Your Big Day. I just finished reading it last week.

If you’re engaged or if you have a friend or family member who is, this book would make a great gift. It’s full of sturdy, gospel-centered advice to counter the pressures to have the perfect wedding and keep the focus where it ought to be. Catherine Parks and her co-author, Linda Strode, write in the introduction,

Don’t get us wrong—we aren’t saying ... you shouldn’t ever look at Pinterest or magazines [to help create the perfect wedding]. We have just seen so many couples suffer through planning their weddings, weighed down by all the pressure to make them unique and perfect. (p. 2)

This has been my experience working with couples, too.

But this pressure to have a “dream wedding” sometimes spills over to the pastor who officiates the wedding, at least I know it does to me. In my article for Desiring God, I wrote,

There’s something in me, something ugly, that longs to preach Ephesians 5 better than it’s ever been preached: a sermon that engages the un-churched, dazzles the mature Christian, and rescues the estranged couple off the cliff of divorce.

Buy on Amazon

Each time I share a message in a wedding, it’s a little different. That’s because every couple is different. Below is the most recent message I shared at a friend’s wedding. In it, I talk about the difference between “consumer” and “covenant” relationships. I find this distinction to be a helpful way to explain the greater meaning of marriage.

It’s possible that Timothy Keller has said something about this, perhaps in a message I heard him preach on Proverbs or maybe in his book The Meaning of Marriage; it all runs together for me. (If you know where he does this, let me know.)

Anyway, the below message takes me about 8-10 minutes to share. I’m not sure it’s a “Pinterest dream wedding sermon,” but it’s what I’ve got for now.  

[Note, I changed the names of the bride and groom. Also, these reflections followed a reading of Ephesians 5:22-31 done by family members.]

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At this time, I’m going to share a few comments about marriage and about the gospel. These comments are for all of us, but I would especially like to share them with you, John and Jessica.

I will say, though, that if you are here and you are not a Christian—perhaps you haven’t been to a church in a long time, or ever—you may be thinking, “I knew it; here it comes.” If that’s you, that’s okay. If I were you, I might feel that same way.

However, I would encourage you to listen in because so often I find that what people think Christianity is all about, is really not what it’s about at all. And discussing for a few moments the deeper meaning of marriage might be a wonderful way for you to consider what it is that Christians actually believe, at least at the core of our faith.

Marriage is, according to the Bible, more than a lifelong commitment to each other; it’s at least this, but it’s also more. Marriage is a reflection of what the Bible calls “the gospel.” And what I’d like to explain, just briefly, is how your marriage—and all marriages—are to reflect the relationship that God has with his people and God’s people have with him.

A good way to do this is to talk about two types of relationships. I want to talk about “consumer” and “covenant” relationships.

Just so that I’m not misunderstood, both types of relationships—consumer and covenant—have a proper place. Both can be very appropriate and healthy. A problem occurs, however, when we mistake a covenant relationship for a consumer one. To be more specific, the problem is when we mistake the covenant of marriage for a consumer relationship.

But let me back up. When we talk about consumer relationships, what do we mean? They are one-sided relationships where, as long as the other person keeps doing his or her part, then we will do our part. We have these relationships all the time. For example, many times in the last two years, when John and I would meet to talk about life and pray for each other, we would go to either Starbucks or our favorite local coffee shop, Little Amps. These are different types of coffee shops, I know, but I like them both. But I’m in a consumer relationship with them both. If one of them stops “delivering the goods,” well, eventually, I’m going to stop going.

The hallmark of a consumer relationship is that as long as they—the other person—holds up their end of the bargain, then I’ll hold up mine. If they change their product quality or if something happens, well, I’m free to do what I want; it’s my money.

I was talking with my father last year, and he told me how recently, yet reluctantly, he changed his home and car insurance carrier after over thirty some years with the same company. There was an incident that made him change, which I won’t go into. But I bring this up because my father is the most brand-loyal guy I know. When he finds something he likes, he sticks with it. But even for him, even in his loyalty, his relationship with an insurance company is still a consumer relationship.

And there is nothing wrong with that. Again, the problem comes when we bring this consumer view of relationships into marriage, which is to be a covenant relationship.

A covenant relationship is not focused on whether or not the other person delivers the goods. No, a covenant relationship is one based on a solemn vow to hold up your own end of the agreement regardless of whether the other person does. This is the most beautiful of all relationships because it means that you can be truly known—known in all of your glory, but also known in all of your depravity and shame and failures and insecurities—and not only known, but still loved. This is the meaning of unconditional love: truly known and dearly loved.

It’s God’s intention that marriage would be this type of relationship—one not based on what the other person does, but rather, through “better and worse, sickness and health, richer and poorer,” the marriage holds.

Those statements, which are so often included in wedding ceremonies, wouldn’t make any sense in a consumer relationship. If the baristas at Starbucks start spitting in my coffee, well, they are not going to be getting my $2.23 for a grande dark roast, which, by the way, I get with no room for cream or sugar. (Just mentioning that in case anyone ever wants to get me one.)

So, what does this have to do with anything? Let me come back to where I started. John and Jessica, your relationship in marriage is a covenant relationship. It’s to be a place where you truly know each other and deeply love one another—unconditionally.

And the reason that God has designed marriage to work this way is because it displays to the world the way God loves people in the gospel. This is the heart of Christianity. Christians do not believe that God loves us because we have done good; that would be a consumer relationship. Rather, at the heart of Christianity is the covenant love of God.

The sad truth is that all of us, according to the Bible, are more like a faithless bride than a faithful one. Or to put it another way, we have spit in God’s coffee. And the gospel is the good news that, in Jesus, God has undertaken a rescue mission to win back his bride. It’s the good news that God sent his Son, Jesus, to do what we could not, would not, did not do.

The Bible teaches that Jesus lived a perfect life; he was utterly faithful to God the Father, and loved him supremely. And then out of love for God, Jesus went to a cross and died, suffering the ultimate punishment for sin.

Marriage is to display this. Specifically, you John, as a husband and based on the passage of Scripture just read (Ephesians 5:22-31), are to love Jessica as Jesus loves you: sacrificially and unconditionally. This is a high and honorable calling.

And Jessica, your beautiful part is to represent the Church—the part of a loving, responsive, committed Church. Jessica, as an equal in person and value, you are to be John’s best friend and his most devoted helper, that together, you may accomplish the purposes of God, and in doing this, you will display to the world the beauty and blessing that it is for us, the Church, to follow God. You also have a high and beautiful calling.

I want to end with this. Yes, you have your roles to play and yes, you ought to do them well, just as we all ought to do them, but you must remember something in the process: God loves you, both of you, John and Jessica. And though you will both inadequately display the gospel in your marriage, remember that you are not saved because you do right, but because God loved you even while you were at your worst, and he continues to love you. May this gospel of the covenant love of God be the centerpiece of your life together.

[Photo by Josh Felise / Unsplash]

He’s Not a Tame Lion

This summer, we are preaching through 1 Samuel. Rarely do I post my sermons on this blog, but today I’m making an exception. This sermon is about how God—as C.S. Lewis famously writes of Alsan—is not tame, but he is good.

You can download and listen below.

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They call it an “epigraph.” An epigraph is a short quote at the begging of a chapter or the whole book, often by someone famous. It’s designed to suggest a theme for the chapter or book; it’s to prepare the reader for the ideas that follow. A month ago, at a book sale, I picked up a commentary on 1 Samuel for $1. (I knew we would be preaching it soon.) I pulled it out this week and found this quote in opening:

“The hope of a broken world is to find men big enough to mend it.”

- John Buchan, A Prince of the Captivity [1]

I wrote in the margin, “What?! No!” I wrote that because that’s not the hope of the world. And it’s especially not the hope offered in 1 Samuel. As I read the commentary for about four more pages and got more mad, I was reminded of something I was once told: “Not all commentaries are created equal.”

As we turn to our passage this morning in 1 Samuel, I find that quote especially interesting because of what happens. In this passage, all the major characters in the book (Samuel, Saul, David) and all the minor characters (Hannah, Eli and his sons, Jonathon, and others), they all disappear. And God become central; God is the main character of this passage—not behind the scenes but center stage.

As we preach through the book this summer, this passage (chapters 4, 5, 6, and the beginning of 7), is the second largest passage we’ll take. It’s going to take me about 10 minutes to read it. I’ll do my best to read it well, if you’ll do your best to listen well.

But just to help you out, let me summarize it for you. The story centers on God’s conflict with both the Israelites and the Philistines. The Philistines are one of several enemies of Israel in the Old Testament. Most likely they came from across the Mediterranean Sea and have infiltrated the coastal regions and beyond. And they are constantly pressing further inland, and they have done so with some success for many, many years. And as this happens (they push in), Israel is constantly trying to press them out.

In this passage, there’s a battle and Israel loses. So, what do they do? They “fetch” the ark of God. The ark was a wooden box about the size of this communion table. In it was a copy of the Ten Commandments and a few other items. In the Old Testament, it was the physical manifestation of God’s presence among his people; it was the closest thing Israel had to an incarnation.

Though they fetched the ark, they lose again. This time, three religious leaders are killed. Their names are Eli and Hophni and Phinehas. If you weren’t here last week, that will perhaps seem harsh. But in previous chapters, God pleaded with them to change their ways. But they did not. They ran the temple like they were mafia and they needed to be disposed of.

Continuing: After the battle, the Philistines take the ark home and God goes to war against them. When their god Dagon had enough and when all of their cities had enough, they send the ark away. And when it comes back, sadly, Israel still mishandles God and people die. So they send the ark away—again.

Scripture Reading

If you have a Bible, please follow along with me as I read 1 Samuel 4:1b-7:2 [Because of length, I have not included the passage here. You can read it here.]

Prayer

This is God’s Word. Thanks be to God. Pray with me that he would be our teacher. Pray with me as we study this together . . . 

*     *     *

The outline for the rest of our time is simple. Only two questions. First, what is our God like? Second, how should we respond to him?

1. What is our God like?

We’ll start with the first question. What is our God like?

Let me qualify this, though. When I say we are going to talk about what God is like, I don’t mean what God is like in an exhaustive sense. I’m not going to try to say everything. In fact, in the future, in the “forever life with God,” we won’t exhaust God, which is why the new heavens and the new earth won’t be boring. It will be a place of increasing delight.

What I mean in asking, “what is our God like?” is to say that I want to talk about what this passage says in particular about God. I want to highlight, albeit briefly, two attributes of God that are heightened in this passage.

Two introduce these attributes, let me read famous passages from the book The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. I know what I’m about read has almost become cliché because Christians have referenced it so much . . . still, it’s just that good. Also, while it’s familiar to some, still there are others who need to be introduced to it. Speaking of Aslan, the lion character and the Christ figure in the book, we read this:  

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver . . . . “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

And then in another place,

“He’ll be coming and going . . . “One day you’ll see him and another you won’t. He doesn’t like being tied down . . . . Only you mustn’t press him. He’s wild, you know. Not like a tame lion.”

Not tame, but God. Not safe, but a good king. So with Aslan (a symbol of Christ), so with the ark (a symbol, in some ways, of Christ). These are the two attributes we see about God in this passage.

1. (a). God is not tame.

If I said, let me show you were God is un-tame in this passage, then you might be able to ask, where isn’t this shown? It’s everywhere. Let me pick a few places.

First, there is the statement in 4:4, 

4 So the people sent to Shiloh and brought from there the ark of the covenant of the Lord of hosts, who is enthroned on the cherubim . . .

Who is enthroned? Only those who have a throne, only those who have a kingdom, only those who are kings. God is enthroned; he has a kingdom; he’s a king, the king of the whole jungle, and he has a strong paw.

Let me show you what I mean by “paw.” Did you notice as I read the passage the repeated references to the “hand of the Lord”? There were eight of them (4:8; 5:6, 7, 9, 11; 6:3, 5, 9 [and 7:13]). For example,

They sent therefore and gathered together all the lords of the Philistines and said, “Send away the ark of the God of Israel, and let it return to its own place, that it may not kill us and our people.” For there was a deathly panic throughout the whole city. The hand of God was very heavy there (5:11).

Again, that was one. There are eight. God has a strong, heavy paw. And he’s not been declawed.

And then consider the Dagon story at the beginning of chapter 5. Generally speaking, I’m leery of war and battle language in sermons because it tends to be either overdone or domesticated. (For example, I think “prayer warrior” is too liberally applied and rarely do people die in “worship wars.”)

However, the story of the ark vs. Dagon calls for such battle language. The ark goes into the octagon, and in round one, Dagon is knocked to the ground. He can’t pick himself back up, so his trainers do so for him. Then, in round two, it’s a technical knockout. No hands, no head, Dagon’s done. And like humpty-dumpty, all of Dagon’s priests and all of Dagon’s worshipers, couldn’t put Dagon back together again.[2]

But there is more about this untamed lion. Consider the way the ark goes on something of an anti-victory parade. If in October, the Philadelphia Phillies win the World Series of Baseball this year, then in early November, there will be a parade through downtown Philly to show off the spoils of war.

In this story, the Philistines “win” the ark but their victory parade becomes an anti-victory parade. Everywhere he goes, God’s hand is heavy. “Hey, we don’t want the World Series Trophy; send it to Baltimore!” Then Baltimore doesn’t want it. “Hey, send this thing to Pittsburgh!” And on it goes.

To be sure, from beginning to end of this story, God shows that he is not tame. In this way, we have a foretaste of the second coming of Jesus. When Jesus comes again, he will crush all impostors to the throne. In the New Testament letter of Philippians we read (2:9-11),

9 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

“Every knee will should bow.” What does this mean? It means that every Christians, every Muslim, every Hindu, every Jew, every secular atheist, everyone who has ever lived (including me and you) will one day bow the knee before Jesus, The Lion of Judah (Genesis 49:9; Revelation 5:5). Some will do it gladly and joyfully as a continuation of what they were doing in this life. Everyone else will be in for a terrible surprise.

Did you ever think about how God knocked Dagon over? I have. I don’t know the answer, but I wonder if he just breathed on him. Look at this verse from 2 Thessalonians 2:8 and how it describes the way that Jesus will one day destroy the Evil One,

And then the lawless one will be revealed, whom the Lord Jesus will kill with the breath of his mouth and bring to nothing by the appearance of his coming.

One day our Savior will destroy the Evil One with the breath of his mouth. The way you and I take a pizza out of the oven and blow on it, that’s how God destroys evil.

Be sure about this, church, he’s not a tame lion.  

1. (b). But he is good.

But this of course is not the only attribute we see in our passage, and thankfully so. God is also good.

Now, when we speak of God’s goodness, we could mean many different things (true things, helpful things, biblical things). In these verses, when I say “God is good,” what I mean is that God has a special love and care for his chosen people. Let me show you where I see this.

You’re familiar with the Exodus story, right? The story where God, with a strong hand delivered his chosen people from Pharaoh? It’s the story of when Pharaoh would not comply, that God’s crippled the entire nation of Egypt with 10 plagues and thereby delivered his chosen people from the most powerful leader of the most powerful nation on earth. You know this story, right? It’s famous, right?

Well, it’s famous to the Philistines, too. Twice in this passage, it’s mentioned. First in chapter 4 when the soldiers refer to it (4:8). Then, later in the story, the priests of Dagon refer to it (6:6). The gist of both references is this: let’s not let happened to us what happened to Egypt because even we pagans know that God loves his people and he won’t let anything stand in their way. God is good towards his chosen people.  

And consider this one. Consider the cows that bring the ark home. The Philistines say, “Let’s come up with a plan, and if it works, then we’ll know that God is God.” So they do. They take cows that have never pulled a wagon, cows that are nursing their young, and they set them loose. (By the way, rookie cows that are also new mothers, wouldn’t ordinarily pull well or leave their young; this is like giving a 10-year old keys to the stick shift and seeing if they can make it to Allentown.) And where do these cows go? Straight back to Israel. As the passage says, “They turned neither to the right nor to the left” (6:12).

But we can be more specific. The cows (and you might not have realized this), they go back to a city called Beth-Shemeh. Did you know that in the book of Joshua, that this city is listed as one of the cities that is a headquarters for Israelite priests (Joshua 21:16). Think about that. God could have gone anywhere. He could have left Israel altogether as he left Philistine country. But where does he go? He goes back to his people, his priests. He’s saying, Let’s try this again.

Did they deserve him? And would they treat him the way he deserves when he gets there? No and no. And we don’t either. But our God is good. He loves his chosen people.

It’s as though God is saying to us in this passage, even when it looks like my grace is harsh, even if I must let you flounder for a time, I’m coming back. I love my people. I love you.

He’s not tame, but he is good.

2. How should we respond?

Well, we should get on to my second point or we’ll never finish. If this is what God is like, how shall we respond? As with the above point, I’m not attempting to be exhaustive. We can’t. But certainly we can learn from the negative examples in this passage.

How do people respond wrongly to God in this passage? Two ways. I’ll just lump them together because they are almost inseparable. The two ways are

1. Superstition, not rightly esteeming God’s heaviness.
2. Addition, not full submission.

Let me say them again. The two ways the people respond wrongly to God in this passage are,

1. Superstition, not rightly esteeming God’s heaviness.
2. Addition, not full submission.

What do I mean? They treat God so lightly that they think they can superstitiously manipulate him. As for addition, what I mean is that rather than turning from all other gods to worship the real God, instead people try to “add God” to their lives, as though YHWH was “in addition” to their other gods.

Consider the statement in 4:3,

3 And when the people came to the camp, the elders of Israel said, “Why has the Lord defeated us today before the Philistines? Let us bring the ark of the covenant of the Lord here from Shiloh, that it may come among us and save us from the power of our enemies.” 

The King James Version of “Let us bring the ark” says, “Let us fetch the ark.” They are treating God like a rabbit’s foot that can be fetched. Rather than the hard, prayerful activity of individual and corporate repentance, they so lightly esteem God that they try to manipulate him into giving them what they want: victory.

And consider the detail about Eli and his “heaviness.” Did you catch that? He’s an overweight guy and his own heaviness, in a sense, kills him. He’s crushed under the weight of his own glory. That might not seem like a big deal, but did you know that the words for “glory” and “honor” and “heavy” are all the same. It’s the word ka-vowd. And the name Ichabod (4:21), which means, “Glory departed” or “glory exiled,” is Ick-ka-vowd. In Chapter 2, Eli is rebuked for not treating God’s word as heavy. He honors something above God.[3] And so a heavy man dies under the weight of his own heaviness because he did not esteem God and his glory as heavy.

This leads me to ask: Is God heavy in your life? Is he a weighty thing? Or is his word something easily ignored. Is the Bible a light thing to you? Or is God and his word something you bend your life to? When he challenges you, do you bend to him, or do you bend him to you?

And then there is the detail at the very end of the passage. When the ark finally comes home, they mishandle it. They “looked upon the ark of the Lord” (6:19). We don’t know exactly what they did, but we know it was wrong. I think it’s a little like this. What would you think if I saw the power of Three Mile Island, this nuclear power plant that looms so ominous on the Harrisburg horizon, and as I saw the tremendous power that it generates, I said, “I think I’m going to have a little looks-y at the reactor’s core, maybe get up close and handle some of the uranium.”

What would you think? You’d say, “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. You don’t understand. That is power that is ‘for us.’ But we don’t play lightly with it.”

Finally (and this is my last verse to quote), look at 5:5,

5 This is why the priests of Dagon and all who enter the house of Dagon do not tread on the threshold of Dagon in Ashdod to this day.

This, to me, is the saddest verse in the passage. Why? Well, we don’t know exactly what their motivation is for not stepping on the threshold, the place where Dagon was defeated. But we do know, as they knew, this: it’s the place where Dagon was defeated.

And every time they stepped over the threshold they are in some superstitious way acknowledging that this is the place where their God was defeated. And in this strange way they are not giving full submission to the “God of gods” but rather they seek to add a totem of respect to this God—just like they pay a totem of respect to all of their gods. That is, they go for addition not full submission. They go for superstition, not esteeming God’s heaviness.

And this is so sad to me because of what the verse should say, or could say. It should say, “And to this day, this is why the priests of Dagon no longer worship Dagon but they worship the Lord.” If I could talk to these priests, perhaps I would say something like, “Go deeper, Philistines! Press your worldview further! And when it fails you, when you have to glue your god back together again, don’t ignore this! See the failure of your worldview as an opportunity to grasp the real thing!”

And we can do this, too. We can be content to “add Jesus” to our life and give him superstitious homage. We can live our own lives, but “sprinkle a little Jesus on top” so we won’t go to hell. We must repent and get the real thing. Church, if you god is letting you down, don’t pick him up. Replace him with the real God who will never fail.

Conclusion

Earlier, I said that there were parallels between this story and the second coming of Jesus. That’s true. But did you also catch the parallels with the first coming of Jesus? Oh, church, as we close, let me encourage you with this.

Think about it: in this story, the king is surrounded by sinful, dysfunctional leadership and sinful, dysfunctional people. And this king—in the Samuel story—allows himself to be captured. He allows himself to brought by force behind enemy lines. And there, all by himself and all alone, he works a victory. And then, he returns to his people.

This is the gospel story. Jesus came to a sinful people, allowed himself to be captured, and when he died on the cross (alone and behind enemy lines), he worked a great victory. And now, anyone and everyone who comes to him in faith can become his chosen people, his royal subjects. What a story. He’s not tame, but he loves you.

The hope of the broken world is not that we have “men big enough to mend it” but rather the God-man Jesus Christ to save it.

Notes

1. Found in Andrew W. Blackwood, Preaching from Samuel, Baker Books, 1975 [original 1946]; quote from John Buchan in A Prince of the Captivity.

2. My expansion on of an insight into the passage from Dale Ralph Davis, 1 Samuel, p. 60.

3. See the interplay of these verses: Honor: 2:8, 2:29, 30!, 9:6, 15:30 / Heavy: 4:18, 5:6, 5:11 / Glory: 4:21, 22, 15:29 / Ichabod: 4:21.

[Photo Stefan Rayner / Unsplash]

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

Buy on Amazon

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]

This Quote Terrifies Me

I remember when I heard it. I was riding my bike listening to the audio of a panel discussion. I couldn’t keep pedaling. It’s a quote from D.A. Carson at the 2011 Gospel Coalition conference.

I sometimes tell students at the seminary that I have learned during the last thirty five years that most of the students do not learn most of what I teach them. What they tend to learn is what I most emphasize; they tend to learn what I come back to again and again—what I put at the center.

Therefore, if it is a broad sweeping discipline that I am trying to pass on to them, only a few of them will pick that up—the other eggheads like me. But on the other hand, if at the heart of a teacher’s ministry is a passion for the gospel, a passion for men and women, even while they are teaching advanced Greek grammar and that sort of thing, it does shape their priorities and values beyond the discipline itself.

(D.A. Carson, speaking at The Gospel Coalition: Training the Next Generation of Pastors and Other Christian Leaders, Panel Discussion: R. Albert Mohler, Jr., Mark Driscoll, David Helm, Don Carson and Ligon Duncan, The Gospel Coalition 2011 National Conference, Apr 13, 2011; quote at 25:00-25:30 minutes)

You may be confused why this quote terrifies me. It terrifies me because I teach for a living. And as a teacher, I too emphasize all sorts of different things. And Carson’s comments terrify me because they force me to evaluate what I prize at the center of all that I teach. What do I come back to again and again? What is at the heart of my ministry? Is it the gospel—a passion for the fame of Jesus Christ?

Consider what you are really passionate about—the thing behind all of the other things in your life. What is it that you think about when you are just sitting around or driving across town? What do you day dream about? If I spent the week hanging out with you, what would I remember most?

These are scary questions.

A great example of keeping the “main thing” central in one’s teaching is seen in the fatherly advice from Proverbs 1-9. Over and over—and just before and just after everything else that the father talks about—the father in Proverbs calls his son to treasure the supremacy of wisdom and the commands of God (cf. 1:20-33; 2:1-22; 3:5-8; 4:1-27; 5:1-2; 6:20-23; 7:1-4; 8:1-9:18). I think the takeaway is that there are 1,000 pursuits in life—but above them all and through them all—we are to seek to know God in wisdom.

It’s so tempting in the teaching ministry of a church or in a seminary, or in life generally, to be pulled into 1,000 separate noble pursuits. But what I learn from Carson and Proverbs is that we have to keep the main thing, the main thing— since everything else will probably be forgotten.

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Mock Interview of Jacob and Esau from Genesis 33

Introduction

Last week, I wrote a post about the benefits of reading the Bible closely and how good preaching should model this. In this week’s post, I’m going to give an example of the types of questions I might ask of a passage (and the characters in it) when I am trying to read it closely. To do this, I’ve fashioned this post as a mock interview with the two main characters of Genesis 33: Jacob and Esau. In other words, if I was able to conduct an interview with these two men, what would I ask them, specifically, in light of the details listed in Genesis 33?

By way of background, in Genesis 33, finally, after many, many years, Jacob comes face to face with his brother Esau. Esau is the hairy-warrior-older-brother, and Jacob is the younger, softer brother who stole his older brother’s blessing. While it is fairly easy to get the big picture of Genesis 33, questions abound as to the motives involved. A few details make it seem as though Jacob’s motives we honorable, and other details seem to make them seem less so. The same is true of Esau. It’s difficult to know what to make of the two brothers. This interview is designed to sort out the ambiguity, at least as much as possible.

So, without further introduction, below are the questions I would like to ask Jacob and Esau based on the words of Genesis 33.

*     *     *

Mock Interview Questions for Jacob and Esau from Genesis 33

Genesis 33:1, And Jacob lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, Esau was coming, and four hundred men with him. So he divided the children among Leah and Rachel and the two female servants.

Esau, this first question is for you. Why exactly did you bring “four hundred men” with you to see Jacob? That’s a big posse to meet a guy with his family and some animals.

Later, as the story unfolds, it appeared that your intentions (at least in this encounter) were not to harm Jacob but to protect him. So, Esau, were these men really just there for protection, or were they also for influence and intimidation, you know, in case you didn’t like what you saw in Jacob?

Genesis 33:2, And he put the servants with their children in front, then Leah with her children, and Rachel and Joseph last of all.

Jacob, this question is to you. Why did you arrange your children and wives this way? Was it pure favoritism to protect the ones you love most? We know how you feel about Rachel.

Genesis 33:3, He [Jacob] himself went on before them, bowing himself to the ground seven times, until he came near to his brother.

Jacob, good work on going out in front alone to meet Esau. That was brave. But, why did you bow down seven times? I have read that it was an established sign of respect in your culture, but was it really respect coming from you to him? Was this a genuine plea for forgiveness that came from a repentant heart? Or, Jacob, was this all an elaborate plan with survival as the principal motive?

In the previous chapter, we read that you sent messengers to Esau to tell him you were coming (32:3), so I’m inclined to pick the former motive, namely genuine repentance, but which was it? Or maybe it was some of both.

Genesis 33:4, But Esau ran to meet him and embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept.

Esau, were you planning to react this way, or was it a spur of the moment thing?

Genesis 33:5, And when Esau lifted up his eyes and saw the women and children, he said, "Who are these with you?" Jacob said, "The children whom God has graciously given your servant."

Esau, I noticed that you asked a question to Jacob about the women and children. However, Jacob, you only responded to Esau about the children. Why? Is this significant? Was it because “wives” were a sore subject in your family? We know that you, Esau, back in Chapters 27 and 28, took “foreign wives” much to the disappointment of your mother Rebekah.

To the question again: Jacob, is this why you didn’t bring up your wives? Or maybe it was that you were embarrassed by the fact that you now, like your brother, had multiple wives and girlfriends?

Also, Jacob, here you spoke very humbly. For example, you spoke to your brother Esau as “your servant,” and later as “my Lord.” Jacob, was this the humility you learned over the years of hard labor and service to your uncle Laban, or was it an intentional projection of humility to win favor? Or again, could it be that it was some of both?

Genesis 33:6-7, Then the servants drew near, they and their children, and bowed down. 7 Leah likewise and her children drew near and bowed down. And last Joseph and Rachel drew near, and they bowed down.

Jacob, before this encounter, had you taught your children to bow down like this when they met someone of importance, the same way I might teach my children to look people in the eye and say, “Nice to meet you”?

Or, Jacob, are we reading about the result of very special instructions that you made to your family for this particular moment so that you could curry favor in Esau’s (potentially angry) eyes?

Genesis 33:8, Esau said, “What do you mean by all this company that I met?” Jacob answered, “To find favor in the sight of my lord.”

Again, Jacob, if I may, what do you mean with your answer to Esau’s question, “To find favor in the sight of my Lord”?

Are we talking about apologizing or trying to save your skin? If the latter, I’m not sure that would be terribly wrong. I totally understand that a father might have to be creative at times to protect his family from danger. Still, it would seem better if you were apologizing, at least in part.

Genesis 33:9, But Esau said, “I have enough, my brother; keep what you have for yourself.”

Esau, it seems that there has been a change in you since we last met you. Before, you were “consoling [yourself] with the thought of killing [Jacob]” (Genesis 27:42). What has happened during these twenty years while Jacob was away? Have you let “bygones be bygones”? Have you truly forgiven your brother? Or, are you so wealthy now so that losing the birthright turned out to be of no real consequence, at least financially?

Genesis 33:10, Jacob said, “No, please, if I have found favor in your sight, then accept my present from my hand. For I have seen your face, which is like seeing the face of God, and you have accepted me…

Jacob, I hear an allusion in the above comment back to your previous night’s struggle where you wrestled with a man all night, and the comment that you made that night, namely, “I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared” (Genesis 32:30).

So, Jacob, my question is this: what are you getting at by likening Esau’s face to God’s? Again, is this more flattery or is it sincere? It seems like you are probably very sincere, but I just have to ask.

Genesis 33:11, …Please accept my blessing that is brought to you, because God has dealt graciously with me, and because I have enough.” Thus he [Jacob] urged him, and he [Esau] took it.

Esau, I have heard that to accept a gift from someone in your culture meant that you were on good terms with the person who gave the gift. Was that what you meant by receiving this gift from your brother (or a better translation, this “blessing” from your brother)? Was this the sign that you two are now on good terms, at least you, Esau, are on good terms with Jacob?

Genesis 33:12, Then Esau said, “Let us journey on our way, and I will go ahead of you.”

Esau, why did you want your brother to come with you? Did you want to keep tabs on him? Did you just assume that he would have wanted to come with you? And here is the real question, was your amiable posture something that was going to continue once you got home? I am sure your brother was wondering this.

Genesis 33:13, But Jacob said to him, “My lord knows that the children are frail, and that the nursing flocks and herds are a care to me. If they are driven hard for one day, all the flocks will die…

Let’s stop here in the middle of this quote to talk about it for a bit.

Now Jacob, was this true? I understand you had been fleeing from your uncle Laban in haste for the last two weeks, but were the animals really on the brink of death? Could they have not gone on just a few more days? It’s hard for me to know, I wasn’t there and you certainly know more about animals than I do.

Or maybe something else was going on. Was it this: now that you and Esau had “kissed and made up,” was this statement about the animals really just a front to get Esau to leave without you? Maybe some of the stories you heard about Grandpa Abraham were bouncing around in your mind, stories about how he had to part ways with Lot (cf. Genesis 14).

Genesis 33:14, …Let my lord pass on ahead of his servant, and I will lead on slowly, at the pace of the livestock that are ahead of me and at the pace of the children, until I come to my lord in Seir."

Jacob, let’s talk about what you said here. Jacob, you said you were going to go to “Seir,” which is just south of the Promised Land, but that you would merely get there a little slower than Esau (e.g. “I will lead on slowly, at the pace of the livestock… [and] the children”). However, as the story goes on, we read that you don’t go to Seir. Jacob, at this point in the conversation with Esau, did you know that you were not really going to Seir with your brother? Or was that something you decided later? Did you have in your mind the command of God that you had recently received, which was to go to your homeland, not to Seir (Genesis 31:13)?

Or were you simply worried that Esau would change his mind, and when you got to your brother’s village, you were worried that Esau the “hairy-warrior-older-brother” would come back out, along with his four hundred armed friends?

Or maybe you did not want to go with Esau because—as we might say using the language of the New Testament—Esau was an “unbeliever” and you did not want to be “unequally yoked”? If that was so, why not just be upfront and honest with Esau? Were you scared? I understand if you were.

Or—and this is possible too—maybe you were not lying at all because you really did go to Seir, just at a later time and then only for short visits? I wouldn’t know if this was true because no visits are recorded in the Bible, but I guess you could have done so. I did notice that Moses, the narrator of Genesis, did not add an editorial comment to this part of the story as he did when you snuck away from Laban (Genesis 31:20, “And Jacob tricked Laban the Aramean, by not telling him that he intended to flee.”). So maybe this business of going or not going to Seir is not a breach of integrity. Still, I’m curious, Jacob, can you explain this to me?

Genesis 33:15, So Esau said, “Let me leave with you some of the people who are with me.” But he [Jacob] said, “What need is there? Let me find favor in the sight of my lord.”

Let’s go back to you, Esau. I asked this earlier, but I need to ask it again. Esau, why do you really want to leave these men with Jacob? Are they escorts for Jacob’s safety, or are they undercover agents to make sure Jacob and his family go where you want them to go? As before, I’m inclined to see benevolence in your actions, but Jacob’s reaction to your kind gesture concerns me.

Jacob, did you see something in Esau’s actions that I am not seeing? Were you trying to keep Esau’s men away because you didn’t want to be an inconvenience to someone you had wronged so deeply, or were you more concerned with not having Esau’s watch dogs—I mean his protectors—with you the whole time because you knew you were not actually going back to his home in Seir?

Genesis 33:16, So Esau returned that day on his way to Seir.

Esau, when you parted company, did you expect to see Jacob meet up with you a few days or weeks later? Or did you get the vibe from Jacob that he was not coming?

Genesis 33:17-20, But Jacob journeyed to Succoth, and built himself a house and made booths for his livestock. Therefore the name of the place is called Succoth. 18 And Jacob came safely to the city of Shechem, which is in the land of Canaan, on his way from Paddan-aram, and he camped before the city. 19 And from the sons of Hamor, Shechem's father, he bought for a hundred pieces of money the piece of land on which he had pitched his tent. 20 There he erected an altar and called it El-Elohe-Israel.

Jacob, I could be wrong, and I may not have all the facts; but, it sounds like from the end of this passage that you were not just making a quick stop on the way home but setting up camp for a decent length of time? Is this right? And if so, this is not at all the direction of Seir, right?

You seem to be headed home, but you didn’t make it all the way, did you? Did someone get sick? Or did the seasons change and the weather was no longer conducive for continuing travel?

Or did you simply find a place that you thought you could do profitable business and so you stopped?

I’m especially interested about the initial cause of this stop and why it was prolonged because of what happens in the next chapter. I hate even to bring it up, as I’m sure it’s still painful. This “pit stop” puts events in motion that lead to your only daughter, Dinah, being so horribly abused. Tell me Jacob, what’s going on?

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Epilogue

I first created this mock interview several years ago when I was interning with a church that was preaching expository messages through Genesis. It was there, that summer as an intern, that I fell in love with expository preaching—not as a listener but as a practitioner.

In the end, I’m not sure how either Jacob or Esau would answer each and every one of these questions, but I do think, for a few of the questions, we can come to reasonably good guesses. And, regardless of whether the questions can be answered or not, I certainly know the passage better for going through this exercise. This is part of what I mean when I talk of reading the Bible closely. And in a world of sloppy reading, good preaching should offer the fruit of a close reading of the Bible.

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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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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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