Concerning Life as It Is Supposed to Be

Category: Preaching Page 4 of 6

Sounds Like Me

A friend directed me to a message preached recently by a pastor in Huntsville, Alabama, Jean Larroux because she thought it sounded like me.

The truth is, it doesn’t sound like me at all. Pastor Larroux preaches the gospel in an engaging and articulate manner, with a calm passion that is captivating. Rather, where the similarity lies is this: He tells MY story. The dates and faces are changed, but it is my story: a story of the rule-keeping Pharisaical control-freak coming face to face with the grace of the gospel. In that way, this sounds so much like me.

If you want to understand me, I encourage you to listen. But far better, if you want to understand yourself and find Jesus, I encourage you to listen.

The sermon can be downloaded through the following link:

Galatians: the Cast

The End of the World, Part II

A couple of weeks ago I posted with the title, “The End of the World.” One reader saw my title and thought I was referring to Harold Camping’s latest date for the return of Jesus. I was unaware that Mr. Camping was still in the date setting business, having been wrong so often before, or that there were still those willing to take him this seriously.

But as these things go, I was reminded of the simple adage that in pointing a finger at another, there are at least three pointing back at me. Harold Camping is easy to mock and easy to scorn. His mishandling of scripture and his rejection of church history and the wisdom of fellow Christians are all worthy of critique. His mistakes and his sin have led many astray, and that is to be lamented and condemned.

And yet what of me? Reflecting on this reminds me of the fear that often comes upon me when I contemplate stepping into the pulpit. I am charged with the responsibility of rightfully presenting the truth of God. And so I am driven to ask, “Am I getting it right?” Knowing the importance of doing so, and knowing as well my weaknesses, I am in awe at the weight of the task.

The preacher’s frustration is to think that no one is listening. His fear is the knowledge that they are.

[That might even be “tweetable”, there!]

Footnoting Sermons

This is not the place to enter into the whole question of when and how a preacher should reference his sources. Suffice it to say that I’m very concerned to bring to a sermon what are the convictions of my own heart expressed as much as possible in my own words, but at the same time I acknowledge that I have many ‘teachers’ pouring their own thoughts and ideas into the pool from which I draw my thoughts and words. It is not always possible to see or necessary to acknowledge all of those connections.

Except, when quoting directly.

When I am quoting another directly and consciously, it IS important that I acknowledge that, which I try always to do.

In the sermon I preached this past Sunday and to which I make reference here, I quoted two or three times from an excellent paper on the subject of hell written by Tim Keller and posted on the Redeemer web site. At least once, however, those listening to the audio will not hear me give proper acknowledgement. When I listened to the sermon, I was horrified to hear the quote and to realize that in merely listening to the sermon it is possible to judge that I was presenting Keller’s words as my own.

That would be an understandable, but erroneous judgment. In order to give opportunity for people to read as well as hear the quotes I use, I include them as a part of a video presentation which is projected as I preach. Visually, the words I was speaking were attributed to Pastor Keller, which I judged, in a live setting, to be adequate. I had not thought until now the implications for those who only have access to the audio. I will be more careful in the future.

Getting Out of the Way

Tim Keller was recently interviewed by a writer for the Atlantic Monthly about his new book. I’d encourage you to read the whole interview, as it gives a real sense of the breadth of his reading the the passion of his heart.

As a preacher, though, I resonated with his discussion about how in his writing he simply wanted to get out of the way and let people see Jesus, that is, do justice to the material, which in this case is the gospel of Mark. He says,

There’s a true story, evidently, of [Arturo] Toscanini. He was director of the NBC Symphony Orchestra years ago, here in New York. And there was some place where he had just conducted—actually it was just a rehearsal. He conducted a Beethoven symphony. And he did such an incredible job with it that when it was all done, the musicians gave him a standing ovation. And he started to cry. He literally started to cry, and he actually had them sit down, and he wouldn’t let them applaud, and then he said, “It’s not me, it wasn’t me, it was Beethoven.”

Now, what he’s getting across there is a feeling like, “I’m just trying to do justice to the material.” And usually I don’t. And if occasionally I do ok, you shouldn’t be applauding me. It’s just, I got out of the way. I just got out of the way and we actually heard how great the music was. And I feel the same struggle. I’m just trying to get out of the way. And you can’t. In other words, when you’re actually reading, and you’re getting directly a sense of the greatness and the attractiveness of Jesus—and by the way, to say he’s attractive doesn’t mean he’s warm and toasty all the time. I mean, sometimes he’s scary, but he’s still attractive. I just want to say, I want other people to have the same experience I’ve had as I’ve read. And I never quite get there.

I know the feeling. How hard it is to get out of the way. But on those rare occasions when I do and I know that people are having to deal with Jesus and not my words, that is a joy.

How SHOULD We Then Live?

I recently posted my frustration related to the way some DEMAND that others respond to the issue of abortion. I was disappointed that a particularly confrontational and uncharitable approach had been (apparently) sanctioned by The Gospel Coalition’s Justin Taylor.

My concern is somewhat ameliorated by Taylor’s subsequent post of an interview with Robert P. George on the subject of abortion. In that interview, Mr. Taylor asked Professor George how the church should respond to abortion. The heart of what he says is in stunning contrast to what Mr. Taylor’s previous post encouraged:

Let us treat everyone, even our opponents in this profound moral struggle, with respect, civility, and ungrudging love. Loving witness is something all of us can give. And lovingly witnessing in our churches and communities to the sanctity of human life is something all of us are called to do.

I reproduce his answer here in full, and with enthusiasm:

First and foremost: Pray. Pray for the unborn victims of abortion and for women who are, so often and in so many ways, truly abortion’s “secondary victims.” Do not judge them, but rather pray for them and love them. Pray for those who have dedicated themselves to working in politics and the culture for the pro-life cause. Pray for our leaders at the state and federal levels—including judges—whose actions will literally determine who lives and dies. Pray for those whose hearts have been hardened against the unborn, and who defend and even promote abortion. And pray for those who perform abortions. God has already turned the hearts of some such people. Bernard Nathanson, a prominent abortionist and one of the founders of the pro-abortion movement in the United States, was converted to the pro-life cause by the loving witness and prayers of pro-life people. Who knows how many other abortionists and defenders of abortion will follow his path? Let’s give up on no one. Let us treat everyone, even our opponents in this profound moral struggle, with respect, civility, and ungrudging love. Loving witness is something all of us can give. And lovingly witnessing in our churches and communities to the sanctity of human life is something all of us are called to do.

And there is more that we can do. Pro-lifers do a wonderful job in pregnancy centers around the country in reaching out in love and compassion to pregnant women in need. These pro-life heroes need our financial and moral support. Moreover, they can always use another pair of hands, so I hope that many people will join those volunteering in these efforts. They save lives, and they bring God’s healing and practical assistance to our sisters in distress. Politically, we need to use our clout as citizens of a democratic republic to influence policy in a pro-life direction. The fight against abortion and embryo-destructive research should be put at the top of the priority list in evaluating candidates for state and federal offices. We should support pro-life candidates with our money as well as our votes. Moreover, I hope that some who read these words will take the very practical step of running for office themselves. We need more people who are dedicated to the defense of human life to step forward as candidates for Congress, the state legislatures, and other public offices.

Ineffective Shouting

No topic stirs emotion, and emotional rhetoric, like abortion. I understand the emotion. I have three children given life by three courageous women who suffered greatly in order to give life when the world around them, including their friends, was telling them to end their pregnancy.

I know the emotion.

I am, however, saddened, and at times angered, by the rhetoric that such emotion generates.

Justin Taylor’s blog Between Two Worlds is one of the most respected sources of insightful Christian reflection on the internet. He consistently points to good resources and interacts thoughtfully with contemporary issues. He cares deeply about the abortion issue, and I could learn something from his passion.

And yet in a recent post, he draws attention to some comments made on the subject of abortion by author Randy Alcorn. He quotes, I assume favorably, from a larger article written by Mr. Alcorn, which I subsequently tried to read. The article is a severe and uncharitable indictment leveled against Christians who differ with Mr. Alcorn on several points. I found it to be the kind of rhetoric that causes those who already agree to cheer, but changes the mind and heart of no one. He shouts at us, and most of us turn off shouting pretty quickly.

Its only impact is to cause one group within the church to mistrust, if not hate and despise, another group within the church. And that is wrong.

Several quotes will capture the essence of Alcorn’s charges against those whom he should consider his brothers and sisters in Christ:

“I think that every Christian who keeps voting for ‘prochoice’ candidates and who opposes showing the photos of dead babies, while defending what kills the babies in the photos, should question their faith (is it biblical, or does it merely mirror the current drift of our culture?).”

If I read this correctly, he is saying this:

If I find that there are compelling reasons for thinking that one candidate, who will do more for creating a just land, a peaceful future, and a society which cares deeply for the weak, but who is deluded or confused or just wrong about abortion, and I vote for him instead of the avowed pro-life candidate who has no political skills, no knowledge of how government works, and no possibility of doing anything positive in office, but simply is a puppet or tool of a conservative political agenda, then I am not a Christian?

Wow. Question my judgment. But don’t question my salvation.

Or, this:

“I think every church member who is against the observance of Sanctity of Human Life Sunday (this weekend in many churches) and thinks the church shouldn’t talk about abortion—and every pastor who refuses to speak about it from the pulpit—needs to be taken on a virtual tour of that Pennsylvania clinic and come to terms with what abortion really is.”

That is, if I conclude that the church should in its public worship only mark the redemptive events in the life of Christ, and should avoid marking political events (the Fourth of July), the anniversary dates of certain political persons (Martin Luther King), or particularly impact-laden judicial decisions (Roe v. Wade), then a confrontation with what I already know to be a horrific practice and a moral evil is supposed to change my fundamental view of the nature of Christian worship and how the church interfaces with the world?

Again, my judgment may be wrong. But it is judgment that needs to be argued on logic, not emotion.

Or:

“If you lack the conviction or the courage to stand up and say to your church, who you are accountable to lead, “It is wrong to kill unborn babies, God hates it and God will judge it,” then you should not be a pastor. If you don’t have the guts to say “These are children—we must stop killing them” then you need to do something that doesn’t even pretend to take on a biblical and prophetic mantle.”

That is, if I refuse to take a confrontational and judgmental and angry tone from the pulpit on this particular moral issue, then I am gutless pretender to the gospel ministry?

There are many reasons why I think myself unfit for ministry, but this is not one of them. My heart condemns me daily for presuming to step into the pulpit on any given Sunday. But don’t question my courage or my conviction or my fitness for ministry simply because I refuse to take the tack or tone that you think I must.

Believe me, I struggle with how to address this issue, and how to address it as a church in a way that is truly effective in broadening the base of those who share the conviction that abortion is wrong. I am constantly evaluating how to include this in my preaching.

But to be told that one needs to be removed from the pulpit and/or to be shown the door of the church because one’s methodology is judged wrong reveals a spirit that I think is poisonous to the church and poisonous to the worthy goal which, I think, Mr. Alcorn and I both desire to pursue. His words arise from an understandable frustration, and yet they are irresponsible nonetheless.

Mr. Alcorn, shouting at me, or to the world about me, will never change me.

But perhaps changing me is not really what this is all about.

“I Might Have Been Boring”

I introduced Sunday’s sermon with a reflection on the difficulty that Steve Martin had connecting with an audience in New York last Monday. The article which spawned this is here.

Being interviewed by a NY Times writer, Deborah Solomon, the audience grew impatient with their discussion of art, and wanted, apparently, Mr. Martin to talk about his career. So,

“Midway through the conversation, a Y representative handed Ms. Solomon a note asking her to talk more about Mr. Martin’s career and, implicitly, less about the art world, the subject of his latest novel, An Object of Beauty.”

Fitting that story into the sermon was probably a stretch, but I am impressed by Steve Martin’s breadth and depth and found the incident interesting. My mention of it did inspire one creative attendee to plot the delivery of a note to me mid-sermon to encourage me to shift focus, a plot that he never got the gumption to effect.

To bring this full circle, readers might enjoy Mr. Martin’s response to the whole matter, which is printed here. The comedian and the preacher share a common concern that we not lose our audience. Mr. Martin says this:

“Now let me try to answer the question you might be asking yourself at this point: was I boring? Yes, I might have been.”

No one wants to lose an audience and for this reason the comedian and the preacher struggle to NOT be boring. And both, apparently, occasionally fee that they are. But Martin goes on to say that when he is boring, he KNOWS it. So do I.

“I have been performing a long time, and I can tell when the audience’s attention is straying. I do not need a note.”

There is not as much difference between performing and preaching as some might like to think.

In Praise of Laptopistan

I read with amusement and identification this article about the laptop/coffee shop culture. I find that I am not alone in finding that I work more productively in a public environment. The author notes this.

At home, the slightest change in light is enough of an excuse to get up, walk around, clip my nails or head into the kitchen. Though home offices seem like the perfect work environment, their unrestricted silence, uninterrupted solitude and creature comforts breed distraction. In Laptopistan, I focused with intense precision, sitting motionless for hours at a time…..
Laptopistan provides structure, and freelancers, like children, secretly crave structure. You come to work, for two or four or eight hours, and you take comfort in the knowledge that everyone else is there to work as well. There’s a silent social pressure to it all….
Back home in Toronto, with my ergonomically correct chair, spacious desk and dedicated Internet connection, I pulled up my notes from the journey to Laptopistan and tried to write. Within 10 minutes, I was lost in Facebook and watching old “Soul Train” clips on YouTube.
So I unplugged my laptop, traded my sweat pants for jeans and walked two blocks to the nearest coffee shop. There was some country music playing at a comfortable volume, and the familiar sight of cords along the floor. I took a seat between a guy working on an identical MacBook Pro and a woman drawing in a journal, and I worked like I was back in Atlas: productively, contentedly, fueled by a steady diet of Earl Grey tea, an economically acceptable quantity of cookies, and that social pressure I was craving.

There are aspects here that some may not really understand. It is easier for some of us to be focused when the environment in which we work is stripped of the familiar. I prosper under the general background hum/white noise of the coffee shop environment.

However, Laptopistan as described in this article and found in Brooklyn and Toronto does not exist in my suburban Florida context. I am working this morning from the closest Laptopistani imitation, a local Starbucks. I have been reading theology since 8:15 A.M. with a focus that would not happen elsewhere. But I’m not sitting where I started. Shortly after claiming the warm seat by the window, a woman came and sat near, a woman in high heel black boots soon joined by others in identical attire, some kind of high heel black boot beauty cult. It wasn’t their public meeting that was the great distraction. It was the woman’s strong, penetrating voice which insisted that it be listened to.

Nevertheless, I still gravitate to places like this, but not only for the focus they afford. I come here to write sermons. It helps me as I write to look around me and see people instead of empty space and books, as I would see in my study. It helps for me to see ordinary, lost and searching people. It helps me to see them and ask, “Am what I am thinking of saying going to make any sense to them at all?”

Those I see here may never hear the sermon revisions they inspire. Nevertheless, I think I’m a better preacher because of them.

Ferguson on Preaching

Justin Taylor has drawn attention to a series of lectures on preaching which Sinclair Ferguson delivered at Covenant Theological Seminary. Certainly, this could be something of value for those of us who preach.

If you have an iPod or iPhone and would like to download these in an audiobook format (so that you don’t lose your place while syncing, and such) I have converted the four lectures into one audiobook file and it is available here.

Enjoy!

PlayPlay

Acting and Preaching

Here is an interesting observation from one whose interest and experience has included the stage (including a college degree in acting):

“I think [preaching] is probably a lot like acting. When someone asks me, ‘How did you memorize all those lines?’ I come away feeling like I must not have done a good job. They focused on the craft, not on the message. I think it was David Mamet (an American playwright) who said that if an audience comes away from a show talking about their lives and NOT about how the actor performed the role, then you know the actor did a good job.”

So, she goes on to point out, when after a sermon people spend the time talking about the impact of the message in their personal lives, the preacher has done what he set out to do.

That is a high challenge.

[Thanks and credit to Eva.]

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