Category: Preaching (Page 16 of 25)

Sledge Hammers of Truth!

Almost a hundred years ago, sometime in the early 1920s, black activist and author and poet James Weldon Johnson wrote a prayer for his Episcopal church in Florida. The prayer was for the preacher. And what a powerful prayer it is. I’ve been told that when it was time for the sermon, one of the deacons would escort the preacher up to the podium and, with his hand on the preacher’s shoulder, lead the congregation in this prayer. As you can imagine, in that context and culture, it was a fully-participatory prayer. Everybody was in. Repeating the lines. Amen-ing the words. Nodding in enthusiastic agreement.

Can you just imagine how that preacher felt as his church blessed him that way every Sunday morning? Can you understand the power it gave him? The encouragement? The boldness he felt as his brothers and sisters charged him in the presence of God with speaking to them a word from the Lord?

Imagine the scene as you read the words to the prayer. Imagine you’re the preacher.

O Lord, we come this morning,
knee-bowed and body-bent before thy throne of grace.
O Lord, this morning
bow our hearts beneath our knees, and our knees in some lonesome valley.
We come this morning
like empty pitchers to a full fountain, with no merits of our own.
O Lord, open up a window of heaven,
and lean out far over the battlements of glory, and listen this morning.

And now, O Lord, this man of God,
who breaks the bread of life this morning, shadow him in the hollow of thy hand
and keep him out of the gunshot of the devil.
Take him, Lord, this morning.
Wash him with hyssop inside and out; hang him up and drain him dry of sin.
Pin his ear to the wisdom-post,
and make his words sledge hammers of truth, beating on the iron heart of sin.

Lord God, this morning
put his eye to the telescope of eternity and let him look upon the paper walls of time.
Lord, turpentine his imagination, put perpetual motion in his arms,
fill him with the dynamite of thy power,
annoint him all over with the oil of thy salvation, and set his tongue on fire.

Amen.

Wow. Can you imagine how encouraged your preacher would be if you slapped him on the back early Sunday morning and told him to speak boldly and preach confidently? Can you imagine how much better your preacher would be if you hugged him and reminded him on Sunday mornings that he’s speaking for God and that you’re all ears? Can you imagine how much power that would give your preacher if he felt that from you?

Why don’t you try it this Sunday? It might change your preacher. It might change your church. And you might just be blown away by the dynamite of God’s power and the fire of his Holy Spirit.

Peace,

Allan

Falling Short

“My own way of expressing myself almost always disappoints me. I am anxious for the best possible, as I feel it in me before I start bringing it into the open in plain words; and when I see that it is less impressive than I had felt it to be, I am saddened that my tongue cannot live up to my heart.”

~Augustine

How Would Jesus Do My Job?

If Jesus were the preacher at Legacy…This is the question Jim Martin hit us with yesterday during our afternoon session of the Waco Alliance. If Jesus were the preacher at Legacy, how would he go about his day? What would his week look like? What would he do that you do? What would he never do that you find yourself doing every day?

Weird question.

Weird, because I can’t imagine Jesus as a preacher at a church. Not a church in the way we do church today.

I look at Jesus in the Gospels and, yes, I definitely see a preacher. “Repent!” he preaches. “The Kingdom of God is near!” Oh, yeah, Jesus was certainly a preacher. And he ministered to people. All kinds of people. He taught Nicodemus. He consoled Mary and Martha. He healed the crippled and blind. He encouraged the outcast. He ate with the sinner. Jesus was a pastor/shepherd. On the road. In the desert. At the lake. In people’s homes. In the temple. At the market place. Jews and Gentiles. Sinners and saints. He preached and ministered. He did all the things I long to do. He is all the things I long to be.

But how would he be the preacher at Legacy?

The preacher at Legacy has an office. Four walls. Book shelves with lots of books. A desk. The preacher at Legacy is expected to be in this place, this preacher space, every day. An office. With a phone. And a computer. A lamp. Paper clips and staples and a printer. Emails and messages and blogs. Writing sermons. Practicing sermons. Re-writing sermons. Pens and paper. Budgets and meetings and meetings about budgets. Lunch at the drive-thru and then back in my space.

I imagine Jesus would not keep regular office hours. He might not have an office at all.

And I sometimes find myself living in this office. Living here.

How would Jesus do my job?

I wrote three more paragraphs here and then, after re-reading them a couple of times, deleted them. I’ve got some soul-searching to do. I’ve got some serious questions to answer. I have to be a disciple of Christ first and a church “preacher” second. The lines are blurred more often than not. I’ve got to figure out if that’s good or bad.

Peace,

 Allan

Lousy Leaders and Sorry Sheep

(You’ve got to read Ezekiel 34 — the whole chapter — before you read this post.)

Ezekiel 34 troubles me. Just exactly like the rest of this book of prophesy, it’s strong. Bold. In-your-face. It pulls no punches. It’s convicting. Condemning, even. Powerful. You never have to wonder what God is thinking when he speaks through Ezekiel. And that’s true with chapter 34. I’m troubled because so much of this chapter seems to be speaking so directly to our churches today.

Lousy LeadersGod rips into the bad shepherds because they’re ignoring the fat sheep who are oppressing the other sheep. And I see us. Sometimes. Sometimes elders don’t want to challenge the church bullies because they don’t want to stir up any conflict. They want to keep the peace. And, sometimes, the fattest sheep are the biggest givers. Sometimes preachers hold back on what God’s telling them to preach because they don’t want to offend anybody. They don’t want to answer the phone calls and emails Monday morning. They don’t want anybody to leave. They don’t want the emergency meeting with the elders.

Elders and ministers don’t always take care of the weak sheep like we should. Taking care of sheep is hard. It’s painful. Time-consuming. It’s work. And, sometimes, church leaders do crave the attention. Some of are tempted by the spotlight. Sometimes we really do just want our own way. Sometimes we do only act in an effort to save our own necks. And our selfishness and inconsistencies can drive the sheep away.

God help us.

Sorry SheepWe can also — all of us — sometimes be really sorry sheep. We can be territorial about our ministries or areas of service. Or our pews. We don’t let anybody in. We can shove brothers and sisters out the door by being dogmatic and unyielding about our own personal preferences. We can push people to the curb by insisting they believe and think and worship and sing and dress and pray just like me. We’re so good at it, so oblivious to it, that sometimes we can actually take the official position of a weak sheep and use it like an 18-pound sledgehammer to bully and head-butt and ram other sheep into my comfort zone and my lines and boundaries.

There are sheep in our flocks who’ve been in our flocks for years and who’ve never been invited to anyone’s house for dinner. They’ve never been asked to go out to eat. There are sheep in our churches who feel like they don’t matter because we have absolutely run them over on our way to the next committee meeting or service project.

God help us.

God says, “No, I’m just going to do it myself.”

“I myself will shepherd my sheep”

Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd.”

“I myself will be their shepherd!” Ezekiel 34 and John 10Jesus knows how to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. To those who relied on their own righteousness, Jesus ripped away all their excuses and forced them to see their deep need for his grace. To those who were burdened and marginalized, Jesus drew them to God. He showed them that God did not delight in their death but was begging them to come to him so he could give them eternal life. They needed to know there was a place in God’s flock for the weak and the sinful.

The Lord Jesus Christ is our great shepherd. He’s bold and courageous and single-minded in his mission to seek and save the lost, to restore the lost sheep of Israel. And he’s so committed to it — he’s so committed to us, his sheep — that he lays down his life for us. He dies for us. He stands in the gate — he says in John 10 he IS the gate! — between us and the ravenous wolves and the muderous robbers who would kill us and eat us. He’s unwilling to sacrifice even one of us to the enemy. He’d rather die first.

And he did.

God’s people are scattered. We’re all over the map. We bicker and argue. We’re lost and injured and sick. And God through Christ keeps his promises to search and bring back and strengthen. The Good Shepherd makes us one. And he gives us peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Rangers’ magic number for clinching the division title is 19!The Rangers are 2-5 right now on this ten game road trip. They’ve gone oh-fer on the season in the Twin Cities. They’ve lost four straight. Josh and Lee are both out indefinitely. Just a little speed bump, right?

Peace,

Allan

God Bless His Preachers

“The thread of our speech comes alive through the very joy we take in what we are speaking about.” ~Augustine

Some of my early Sunday morning alone time with God is spent thanking him for his preachers. As I prepare to do again what so many have done before, what so many are doing even as I’m praying, what so many more will do long after I’m gone, I praise our Father for their courage and boldness and commitment to our God and his Kingdom.

I ask our Lord to bless all the preachers I know with wisdom and fire. I ask him to speak through them to his people all over the world. I thank God for the preachers in the past who have taught me and shaped me: Burt, Jim, Willis, Rick, Doug. I thank him for the ones I listen to today who mold my theology and challenge my thinking: Terry, Buddy, Don, Patrick. I thank him for some of my best friends who are preachers: Jason, Jim, Charlie. I thank him for the preachers right here in Tarrant County who share with me their wisdom and friendship and encouragement: Eric, Rick, Jim, Larry, Grady, Robert. I thank him for those who are preaching in other lands, who’ve given up everything to answer our Lord’s call: David, Corey, Salvador.

And today I ask God to bless my great friend Jason as he preaches with our church family at Legacy.  May he deliver to our brothers and sisters at Legacy this morning just half the encouragement and wisdom he regularly delivers to me.

Peace,

Allan

You Must Speak My Words

“You must speak my words to them, whether they listen or fail to listen.” ~Ezekiel 2:7

You must speak my words… My preaching just got a whole lot better. Members of the Legacy church will be especially pleased to know that I’m a much better preacher today than when I last posted on this blog. The annual Sermon Seminar at Austin Graduate School of Theology will do that to a guy.

Sitting at the feet of Rubel Shelly as he graced us with his knowledge and insights into our Savior’s Sermon on the Mount and encouraged us to empty ourselves and truly live into what God intends for us as his children. Listening to Paul Watson as he walked us through the words of judgment and grace in Ezekiel and challenged us to preach both. Soaking up my great friend Jim Martin’s wisdom and experience as he taught from 2 Corinthians and inspired us to rely solely on our God as we minister in our churches. Feverishly taking notes as Jim Reynolds carried us from Genesis to Malachi, painting a portrait of our God and his people, a breathtaking picture of love and mercy and grace, and begged us to preach the story. It was, as somebody observed halfway through the first day, like getting a drink from a fire hose. It was so much. Almost too much.

I heard a few jokes. I picked up several preaching pointers. I gathered lots of sermon ideas and outlines and illustrations. All those things are going to make me a better preacher. But here’s the thing that matters; this is what’s important:

For three days in Austin I was reminded by some of the best preachers and teachers of preachers in our fellowship that our sermons do not belong to us. Our sermons are the holy words of our mighty God. My ideas, my stories, my words, my thoughts are inadequate and empty. The world is too messed up, it’s in too much trouble. I bring nothing to the table. I’ve got nothing to offer. It’s God. God’s holy words and God’s holy will. His grace and his mercy and his love. His presence and guidance and encouragement. It’s God. I’m speaking for God.

This preaching thing is not a career. It’s not a profession. It’s a calling. It’s a sacred calling. Preachers are not hired and fired; they are not applicants or candidates. We don’t update resumes or climb any corporate ladders. We work for our Father. Everything we do, we do for him.

If the whole church applauds in approval after my sermon this Sunday but God is not pleased, I have not fulfilled my calling. If the whole church scowls in disapproval but God is delighted, I have done what he is calling me to do.

The Austin Grad Sermon Seminar always re-centers me. It re-focuses me. It pulls me back to the proper understandings and views that get so easily distorted or sometimes even lost in the swirling mess that is church life and church meetings and church politics and church business. It reminds me of who I am as a powerful proclaimer of the great news of salvation from God in Christ. And it reminds me that I work for the God who created me and equips me and empowers me to speak his words — whether anybody’s listening or not — and he guarantees those words will not return to him empty.

Thank you to Stan Reid and the whole Austin Grad staff. Thank you to Rubel, Paul, and First & Second Jim. Thank you to Eddie Sharp who planned all our worship times. Thank you to my great friend Jason Reeves for his company and his encouragement and for not bringing his smelly Corn Nuts into my truck. Thank you to Jim Gardner and Jimmy Mitchell for the prayers in our hotel rooms and the gut-laughs during our meals. And thank you to our mighty God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, for calling me to preach the Word.

Peace,

Allan

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