Preachers,
I want to tell you something they probably did not cover in seminary. It is one of the most important things to remember this Sunday if you are going to stand in a pulpit, open a bible, and try to speak for God.
After you have done all the necessary work of learning the passage. After reading it dozens of times. After chewing on it all week. After checking the Greek or Hebrew for any nuance of meaning you may be missing. After you have the structure nailed down and have your main points and transitions and illustrations sorted out. After you have consulted the relevant commentaries and downloaded any related audio teaching you can find on the passage. After you are convinced that of all the people within fifty miles you are the true expert on these verses. There is one thing you must deal with and have ever in your heart before you open your mouth to a room full of people. And that is this…
Most of the people sitting in front of you are hurting.
They are not hurting all the same way. They are hurting in a hundred different ways. Many cannot even articulate the pain or confusion they may be in, but it is there. You are speaking to someone who has had a terrible week at work and they want to quit but they can’t, and it depresses them. You are speaking to a husband and wife who were just fighting hard in the car on the way to church and are sitting there feeling like frauds. You are speaking to loveless marriages on the verge of collapse. You are speaking to some who are sexual train wrecks because they have grown up in this train wreck of a culture. You are speaking to guilt and shame and failure.
You are speaking to parents who are bewildered by a teenage daughter who is cutting and have no idea how to process it. You are speaking to people who are dismayed by the shifting world around them, a world that changes at the speed of mouse clicks. You are speaking to parents who are heartbroken because their kids have walked away from God. You are speaking to young people who just had a friend murdered by fentanyl. You are speaking to some who are discouraged because their prayers go unanswered and others who barely pray because God seems so cold and distant. You are speaking to people who are struggling with doubt and fear and assurance; some who are wondering if their faith is even real. You are speaking to anxiety and sickness and cancer.
What are you going to say?
What do they need?
They do not need a pep talk. They do not need to be told how wonderful and perfect they are, they know they are not. They do not need a God who yells at them. A father who, once again, is disappointed in them. They do not need a few happy stories that you found on the internet this week. They do not need your clever exegesis of a difficult passage. They do not even need you to answer all their perplexing questions, how could you? They do not need a list of things to do. You are not there to fix them. You are not there on Sunday morning to “straighten these people out”. So, why are you there?
You are there to remind them. You are there to pull back the veil and show them someone. You are there to give them a thrilling vision of an impossible God who is there, nonetheless. The word “encourage” means to give courage. We do not need a lecture; we need a person. You do not preach a message; you preach a person. A God who loves them. A God who wants them. A God who is always calling, always pursuing. A God who wanted them so much that he became one of them. A God who knows the pain and frustration and loss and bewilderment; every day of his life on earth was a sacrifice. A man who wanted his brothers and sisters so much that he followed them into death and Hades so he could set them free.
A God who was there and then, and who is here and now. He has not abandoned them, whatever they may feel. He is holding all the cosmos together by the force of his will, while his eyes and his heart are set on his children. He is knocking at the door. He is singing over his people. You are there to point them to a man who is not offering them the meaning of life, he is the meaning of life. You are there to describe the unseen in such a way that we can see it. Your job is not to show us how useful Christ is; it is to show us how beautiful he is. That beauty will become useful in a hundred ways to a hundred thirsty hearts. If they go home thinking about you or some nice words, then you have failed. If they go home thinking about God, you have won, and the enemy has failed.
The Gospel is insane, yet it is true. God has so altered the fabric of reality that he has caused himself to become forever human. God is shocking. Preacher, if you ever stop being startled and amazed at Jesus then stop preaching.
He is the one who will meet the needs of your people, not you. He is the answer to their questions, not you. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills, not you. He is the light in their dark world, not you. He is the bread of life that feeds the hungry, not you. He is the king, the good shepherd, the prince of peace, the lion of the tribe of Judah and the Lord of time. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, not you. He is the reason we get up each day and fight the sin in our hearts and resist the heavy drag of this world.
He is the song that all creation is constantly singing. Preachers, sing us that song. You will not always get the notes right, but that is your goal. Anything else is just talking.
“The preaching of Christ is the thunderbolt, the sound of which makes Hell shake.” – Spurgeon