GOD'S LOVE

“Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lover’s eyes; being vexed a sea nourished with lovers’ tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet” or, so says Shakespeare through his tragic suitor Romeo. Erich Segal, in his much forgettable Love Story, had Jennifer say to Oliver, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” A few years ago, Tina Turner demonstrated our post-modern confusion with even the simplest of emotions by asking the pointed question, “What’s love got to do with it?”

Whatever we think of Shakespeare, Segal, and Turner, the fact remains that love is a subject that we cannot long ignore. Hallmark and American Greeting have made certain that no occasion passes without someone around you expecting a reminder of your undying love and affection. Just look at your calendar; there is some observation just around the bend and someone, somewhere is expecting a card from you affirming your unending love.

Perhaps our generation is more confused over the meaning of love than any in recent memory. Modern culture portrays love as something you catch like a disease. If you are in the right place at the right time- Zap! just like catching the common cold, you’re infected. Romantic notions of love-at-first-sight have polluted our cultural mythology. We no longer understand or feel the need for the natural progression from friendship to affection to love. Media portrayals of love teach us that we may very well be joined intimately- and then, as an afterthought, may consider the question of love and commitment, or the name of our partner. One of the hottest shows on HBO for a number of years was "Sex and the City" and the follow-on movie sequel is receiving extensive coverage in the newspapers and magazines currently. "Sex and the City" is a celebration of Eros, a show dedicated to confusing physical attraction with genuine love and tawdry love affairs with true commitment.

To further confuse matters, we are told contradictory things about the nature of love. Some say that love, if it is real, is always unconditional and makes no demand upon its object. Others tell us that love must be tough, must not facilitate self-destructive behavior but seek to change the object of its desires. How can we pick our way through this maze? Perhaps we would do well go the Scriptures and see what God has to say about love. As you have no doubt noticed, our text is devoted to that very subject.

As we look into the nature of love, one of the problems we encounter is the inadequacy of the English language. Although rich in many ways, our language is impoverished, offering only one word to do duty for that which the Greek language, the language of our New Testament, had four words. First, the Greeks had a word, Storge, that meant natural love, or family love. It was used to describe the love that binds parent and child. It could even be stretched to include the love for some larger body, such as patriotic love for one’s country. This is a love rooted in familiarity, not so much in the desirability of the object of love. Perhaps a close English gloss for storge would be our word affection. We might, then, talk about loving an old pair of slippers or a crusty old relative.

I have an old baseball glove that I have owned since I was twelve years old. It is called the “Sacred Mit” because no profane hands may touch it without my permission. It is really not worth much, as old and worn as it is. However, I love that mit; that is, I have a strong sentimental attachment to it. For what it is worth, the word that describes this love, storge, is not used in the New Testament.

A second Greek word for love, Eros, also fails to appear in the New Testament. Eros is romantic love. It is the name of the little Greek god with the bow and arrows, the figure we call Cupid. Now Eros is more than sexual love, although sexuality is deeply related to romantic love. Anyone who has read the Old Testament book Song of Solomon knows that erotic love is part of romantic love.

However, there are two peculiar facts about Eros that distinguish it: 1) It is love that is based on the worth of the beloved. And 2), it is love that desires to possess. You have heard, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” You and I may not understand romantic love, but if two people are in love, it is because they find something attractive in each other. Also, you will never hear a real man say, “I am in love with Mary, but I don’t care who marries her.” Eros desires to possess the one deemed attractive. This, however, is not the New Testament understanding of love.

There is a third Greek word for love, Philia. This is the love of friendship, of one man for another, or of a woman for her close friend. Philadelphia is the city of brotherly love, that is, unless you’ve lived there as I have, and know better! Concerning Philia, C.S. Lewis said, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create). It has no survival value; rather, it is one of those things which gives value to survival.” Friendship is a love that is built on common insight or shared tastes, something that two individuals experience together and not in common with the masses. Philia is used only once in the New Testament, although the verbal form is used on several occasions. D.A. Carson, noted New Testament scholar, says that one of the reasons for its infrequent use is the fact that by the first century, philia was used quite regularly as a synonym for kiss and thus would have limited appeal to the New Testament writers.

At last we come to the fourth Greek word for love, Agape. This is a word that was rarely used before the New Testament, but was used extensively by the writers of Scripture. Why would the Christians choose to use such an otherwise obscure word to express the meaning of love? It is not true that agape means “divine love,” per se. Nor is it entirely accurate to say that the writers of Scripture sought to portray a love that could not be expressed by any of the other words. However, Agape is used frequently in reference to divine love. When used to describe God’s love, it is fair to say that it represents love that is determined by the one who loves, not by something in the one who is loved. It is love that is “a free and decisive act determined by its subject.”

Agape is love that does not arise because of the worth of the object, nor is it love that selfishly seeks to possess for its own gain. We find that in our text. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

This is the essence of love, not only in the New Testament, but even in the Old Testament. In Deuteronomy 7, Moses explained to the people of Israel, “The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession.” This divine love is intentional, predicated on an act of the will that decides to engage in relationship. Moses went on in the passage to say this, “The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you . . . that he brought you out with a mighty hand and redeemed you from the land of slavery.” Did you get that? God loved Israel as a free act of his own will, not because there was anything lovely in them, anything commendable about them. That is the love that is Agape.

And we see such love displayed even more pointedly in the New Testament. Paul wrote to the church at Rome “that God demonstrated his own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” My friends, this is unconditional love. Knowing full well that he was getting damaged goods, God chose to love us anyway. Fully aware that there is none righteous among us, that we all have sinned and come short of the glory of God- God nonetheless gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him would not die but have eternal life. He sees us as we are, warts and all- and loves us anyway. And, boy, do we have a hard time accepting this. As a rule, that is not how we love- so we have a terrible time believing that anyone, including our Heavenly Father, could love in that way.

Consider this further. The noted scholar Leon Morris reminds us that “God’s love is not some vague, theoretical thing, a woolly benevolence. It took the hard way: it meant the cross.” (Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, Morris, p. 133) As Paul wrote to the Corinthian Christians, “He has made him who knew no sin to become sin for us.” The spotless Son of God becomes the guilty, cursed bearer of our sin as a manifestation of the Father’s love for us!

That is tough love! Don’t you think- if there had been some other way to provide forgiveness, God would have used it? Don’t you suppose he would have avoided the cross if there were another way to overcome sin? There wasn’t. And, thankfully, the exorbitant price of this cross did not hinder his love for you and me.

Now a further thought. This love that arises out of an unconditional acceptance is nevertheless a love that is intentional and focused. God, who loves us in spite of our sin, desires that we do not remain in that sin. He paid an infinite price in the death of his son on the cross. This is history’s greatest display of love. But, he who paid such a great price to forgive our sins, to make us children of God, desires that we turn from those sins and bear the family image. We read in Hebrews 12:6, “For whom the Lord loves he disciplines, and he scourges every son whom he welcomes.” In other words, the “writer is thus pointing out that God cares enough to do the unpleasant thing for the sake of his beloved.” Love is not incompatible with a desire for change in the beloved—and God desires that we all learn to look like Jesus.

So, then, what does this mean for us? Well, the implications are clear. God is love and we love him because he first loved us. Furthermore, by this, Jesus said, shall all men know you are my disciples— that you love one another. Let me confess something to you. For years I read our text, the love chapter, and marveled at the love of God. I wallowed in the depths of God’s love and stood amazed at its breadth. But there is one thing I did not do, not for years, at least. I never drew the conclusion that since God’s love was at work in my life, I was supposed to love that very same way! Today, I am astounded that I could have been so dense!

You and I are to be “patient and kind. We are not to envy, not to boast, not to be proud. We are not to be rude, or self-seeking, not easily angered. We are to keep no record of wrongs. We must not delight in evil, but rejoice with the truth. We are always to protect, always to trust, always to hope, always to persevere. Love never fails, and neither should we.” Say, that puts it all in a different light, doesn’t it!

Now for some application. If there is any place where we ought to exercise divine love, it is in our relationships with our spouses. Yet, this is the place where, I suspect, we are most likely to fail most miserably! Why? Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt. Perhaps we use up all our long-suffering in the workplace and have little left over when we get home. Whatever the reason, or the excuse, it is not good enough. Our text does not offer “exceptions to policy!” Look, too often what we do in our marriage relationships looks as though we consider everything apart from love. Our behavior does not believe all things, but instead keeps an exact record of all wrongs, perceived or actual; it is proud and boastful, envious, self-seeking and rude. Our attitudes and actions towards our husband or wife do not protect; it does not trust. It accuses, judges, and condemns; it has the sulfurous smell of hell about it.

Brothers and sisters, this will not do! Our text says we are to love even as God loves—and we make no mistake about it; this is not an easy thing for us to do. Yet, I would remind you, the cross was not an easy thing to do. The cross was tough love. It was tough for Jesus to bear our guilt. It was tough for the Father to turn his back on his son hanging on the cross. It was tough for God to love us while we were yet sinners. And it will be tough for you and for me to learn to live by the words of our text, to love that which is not always lovely; to be willing to seek the good of others, especially our spouse, above our own; and to think the best and to give the benefit when in doubt.

But learn to live by these words we must, if as married men and women, (or as those who one day plan to be married) we will honor God. If we will learn to live in peace, it will be because we prefer one another and do not seek our own way. Have you experienced the love of God shed abroad in your hearts? Are you seeking the well-being of your fellow Christians and, most importantly in light of this weekend, the best interests of the man or woman you have pledged to honor above all?

My dear brothers and sisters, “love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. . . . And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.” Today, we walk by faith, but one day by sight, for we shall see him as he is. Today, we hope in the Lord’s promise of redemption, but one day we shall be with him, and our hope will be fulfilled. But throughout endless ages, one thing will continue without interruption: we shall never cease to experience the ever-deepening love of God. That is why our text says so simply, and yet most eloquently, “the greatest of these is love.”

PREACH THE WORD!

2 Timothy 4:1-8 I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.

Herald the Word! Proclaim the good news. That is your task, if you are a preacher. And you are to be at hand, to be “right on the spot” when listeners recognize that a word from God is needed and the season is favorable. But, as the text tells us, you are also to preach the Word when the timing is out of season, or unfavorable. Lenski comments, “The Word knows no difference as to kaipoi (times) or seasons; it is proper for all seasons, everlastingly in season; there is never a time when it is not needed.” I have preached at favorable times and other times unfavorable: during mortar attacks, in prison chapels with hostile inmates, and in a number of Presbyterian churches!

I was recently asked to write an article about preaching on “special occasions.” In our world of satellite communications, 24-hour news channels, and internet immediacy, what they meant by preaching on special occasions suggested the unfavorable times we are all too familiar with: terrorist strikes, anthrax attacks, economic crises, public disasters, and, of course, wars and rumors of wars. I want to share some of the things I learned with you today. First, I want to talk with you about preaching “in season,” or during favorable times in the church. Then, we will look at preaching in unfavorable times occasioned by the “abnormal” events that capture the attention of our congregations. Finally, we will consider three simple observations about preaching in light of the previous two discussions. Bryan Chapell writes that “the expository preaching task is to communicate what God committed to Scripture in order to give God’s people his truth for their time.” (Christ-Centered Preaching, 31) I think this is another way to state our text: “to give God’s people his truth for their time,” whether that time is favorable or unfavorable.

First, it is important to examine the assumption that there is such a thing as preaching during “normal” times in our congregations, i.e., times that are favorable. By favorable we may refer to those days of calm when we are not in the throes of shock over a space-shuttle disaster, a category four hurricane, or the derailing of an AMTRAK passenger train. However, even when our congregations are not experiencing some public, collective trauma, remember that individual members of our congregations may be experiencing the shocks of life in all their raw power. As D.A. Carson writes, “suffering of one kind or another is always taking place.” (How Long, O Lord, 221)

In a given congregation, it is possible that someone’s mother has just received an unexpected, even devastating medical report. A father is facing cutbacks and layoffs in the workplace. A family is experiencing conflict with children and someone’s husband is involved in an extra-marital affair. As Calvin Miller explains, "The Sunday service is a gathering of troubles. Half of those who enter the church and take their seat before the pulpit are moving in a privatized fog of their own ills. In the words of Thoreau, they are living lives of quiet desperation. They are the dying anonymous." (Preaching, 41)

Not even small churches are exempt and sometimes everything changes in the space of a mere week. Last week, the Lord’s Day was an occasion of joy and praise. It was good to be in the house of the Lord! Then came the shattering blow that changed everything. The cares of this world bullied past the front door and filled the home with their oppressive, unrelenting presence. Now, gathered again to worship, these shattered people desperately need to hear a word from the Lord. For them, the unfavorable time has come.

I am not a pastor. Yet, recently, within a very short period of time, I received the following requests for prayer: for a young First Lieutenant who was nearly killed in a horrible wreck in Oklahoma, for the family of a Sergeant who was murdered, for an elderly saint who has a brain tumor, for a young woman who died suddenly from a blood clot, for the well-being of a newborn baby, for surgery to treat a serious infection, for a church member who had surgery and is unable to keep food down, for a young wife who lost her job, for a friend who has terminal liver cancer, for a former student diagnosed with breast cancer, for another friend who has a pre-ulcerous condition.

And the list goes on. Nearly all of these are members of some particular church, and, except for those who have died, most will be listening to some preacher this coming Lord’s Day. And, as Miller writes, they are not coming to church because they want to know “whatever happened to the Hittites.” (Ibid.) They will be in church because they need the fellowship and support of God’s people. And, most importantly, they need to hear a word from the Lord that will give them comfort, hope, and direction. The first thing the preacher must do, then, is get a handle on what favorable really means. Many in our congregations are like ducks swimming on the pond. Above the surface, everything appears calm and controlled. Unseen beneath the surface, however, little duck feet are churning at warp speed. In other words, there is more “out of season” or unfavorable going on than you might imagine. In the words of Pulitzer-prize winning author, Marilynne Robinson, “There’s a lot under the surface of life, everyone knows that. A lot of malice and dread and guilt, and so much loneliness, where you wouldn’t really expect to find it, either.” (Gilead, 6)

Perhaps it is the immediacy and accessibility of media that makes our time seem so frantic, so out-of-control. The closing of a small-town Chrysler dealership may have little impact on the global economy; it is, however, devastating to the 43 employees who worked there—and the “local” story may well show up on CNN or FOX news. With never ending news cycles, we are light years from the fifteen-minute newscast of the 1950s. Whether it is an IED explosion in Afghanistan, an attack on hotels in Mumbai, or a backed-up toilet on the space station, everyone with a television or a personal computer has access to the latest information. The buffers of time and space have effectively evaporated, and we are all exposed to more information than we can handle, coming at us faster than we can process it. What once would have been only of peripheral interest now is thrust front and center, demanding that we give it a hearing. And, sometimes, the global village, or some significant portion thereof, is affected in a powerful way.

I was knotting my tie, glancing in the mirror to make sure I wasn’t strangling myself, while watching the television out of the corner of my eye. I was thinking about the meetings I had scheduled later that day. That day I was running late, and I was definitely suffering from caffeine-deficiency. But something caught my eye. I had already turned back to check on my tie when my pre-frontal cortex, my lizard brain, processed the image from the TV. I had seen, however briefly, what appeared to be a tall building on fire. I turned to look at the screen even as I reached for the remote to adjust the volume. As the sound increased I heard the news anchor report that an airplane had flown into the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City.

Like many other Americans, I watched in horror as another airplane screamed into the South Tower approximately seventeen minutes later. And then, one minute before ten o’clock, the South Tower crumbled, followed by the North Tower at 10:28 AM. By virtue of the magnitude of the horror, the near-universality of the experience, or the immediacy of the reporting (or some combination of these factors), such events leave indelible scars. What does a preacher do the Sunday after more than 3,000 people are killed in the worst terrorist attack in American history? Stick with the lectionary? Move on to the next few verses in Ephesians? Talk about “out of season!”

I was in church the following Sunday, September 16, 2001, expecting to hear a sermon that addressed the shock, the fear, the sadness that so clearly affected everyone in the sanctuary. I was wrong. The sermon was the same sermon that had been planned weeks before. Had it not been for the pastoral prayer, no one in those pews that morning would have known that the horrors of 9/11 had occurred but five short days before. There is no other word for it; this was ministerial malpractice. If ever a people need a word from the Lord, it is at those times when we are reminded afresh that life is relentlessly contingent and hangs by a mere thread, “a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14). This was one of those times. And instead of edible bread, indeed, Living Bread, we received a homiletical brick.

The second thing the preacher must do, then, is develop the wisdom to know when to adjust the sermon to address times that are unfavorable—and cultivate the skills to do so with agility. Such wisdom will probably come only with experience, and the agility to shift “on the fly” is as much a developed skill-set as it is a temperament trait. Mostly, however, the preacher needs to be sensitive to the needs of the flock and open to the leading of the Holy Spirit.

In light of the earlier discussion, there are many more issues worth considering. However, I will limit my comments to three simple observations. First, simple observation: the minister who seeks to be a faithful shepherd must remember that he preaches, not in a vacuum, but to flesh and blood people who are immersed up to their necks in life. This means it is never enough for the preacher simply to “give the meaning of the text.” Some preachers confuse the exegesis of the text with exposition of the text. Fred Craddock warned: "It is possible that a sermon that buries itself in the text, moves through it phrase by phrase, and never comes up for air may prove to be “unbiblical” in the sense that it fails to achieve what the text achieves." (Preaching, 28)

The faithful preacher, who seeks transformation and healing in his congregation,
will be ever mindful of the interplay between the context of the Scripture and the
context of his listeners. John Stott writes that we need preachers "who struggle to relate God’s unchanging Word to our ever-changing world; who refuse to sacrifice truth to relevance or relevance to truth; but who resolve instead in equal measure to be faithful to Scripture and pertinent to today." (Between Two Worlds, 144)

Such preaching requires more than reading the daily newspaper or following the evening news, though it certainly requires no less. Just as the shepherd of old knew his sheep, even so the under-shepherd of God’s flock must know his sheep and care for them tenderly. There are wounds that need binding, and the role of the preacher is interwoven with the role of the pastor. Is it strange that, almost as soon as he mentions the Chief Shepherd, Peter reminds his readers to cast their cares on him, “because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7)? Sinclair Ferguson says “we have to understand the soul condition of those to whom we preach, and address them in an appropriate way.” Preaching is more than throwing doctrinal truths at parishioners. The preacher must bring the Word of God and the listener into vital connection through skillful exposition and application.

Second simple observation: the preacher needs to preach the whole counsel of God. “All Scripture is God-breathed and profitable”—and this means preaching that a sovereign God is in control of life’s circumstances, even when the gears are grinding, the temperature gauge is in the red, and the wheels are about to come off. D.A. Carson addresses the problem of ministering to those who encounter suffering and evil. He writes that "part of learning to live as faithful children of the sovereign God is therefore tied to trusting him when he can at best be only dimly discerned behind events and circumstances that the Bible itself is quick to label evil." (How Long, O Lord, 65)

To preach “the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27), the preacher must be prepared to deal with the hard subjects, including the sovereignty of God in suffering. To be sure, the Westminster Confession warns that “the doctrine of this high mystery of predestination is to be handled with special prudence and care” (WCF 3:8)—and so it should. But avoiding these matters entirely is hardly handling them with special prudence and care. Avoidance is not a method of engagement. The unfavorable times do not go away because we cover our eyes.

The doctrine of God’s decrees, predestination, providence—these are the doctrines that are the most difficult to reconcile with events of monumental evil. In the aftermath of the World Trade Center attacks, how many times did you hear the question, “Where was God on 9/11?” Or, as one hears in the “normal situations” of life, “Where was God when I lost my job? . . . or became ill? . . . or lost my loved one?” It is at such painful points that we find it most difficult to reconcile our profession with our experience. When God does not act predictably, i.e., as we expect him to act, we can find our faith challenged and our previous understanding of God inadequate. Most pointedly, we may flinch at the notion that God ordained this for his own glory and become stupefied by the thought that God will use that for our highest good.

Such powerful, cognitive dissonance means it is all the more important to preach that God is our loving heavenly father (Matthew 7:11). That our God is concerned about those things that concern us (Matthew 6:31-33). That our God is at work even in the midst of evil to bring about the good ends that he has always intended (Genesis 50:20, Romans 8:28). The preacher must treat these doctrines not as abstract concepts, but as the lifeblood of evangelical religion. Cold, abstract speculations will do little to grant comfort to those in the unfavorable times of life; but the confidence that God is at work will comfort God’s people (Acts 27:21-26) in the midst of trouble (2 Corinthians 1:3-7). These doctrines are perishable and we must preach them frequently if we wish to fortify the soul.

Third simple observation, this preaching must be done before it is needed. The preacher must inoculate his listeners, preparing them for the day of evil. All last fall, the news was filled with reports on efforts to develop the vaccine for the H1N1 (“Swine”) flu virus and prepare for a possible outbreak. The plan included the vaccination, or inoculation, of targeted populations that are especially vulnerable. But—the vaccine is only good if administered before the victim contracts the flu. Even so, preaching on the attributes of God, his sovereignty, and his providence, needs to occur before it is needed. The fact is that all God’s people will come into unfavorable times sooner or later. Jesus told his disciples, “In the world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33; cf. Acts 14:22). Indeed, if becoming a Christian provided immunity from the cares of life, our churches would be packed and we could permanently retire our evangelism committees.

Carson writes: "One of the major causes of devastating grief and confusion among Christians is that our expectations are false. We do not give the subject of evil and suffering the thought it deserves until we ourselves are confronted with tragedy. If by that point our beliefs—not well thought out but deeply ingrained—are largely out of step with the God who has disclosed himself in the Bible and supremely in Jesus, then the pain from the personal tragedy may be multiplied many times over as we begin to question the very foundations of our faith." (Ibid.)

The preacher who waits until tragedy occurs will find he has wasted precious time. The preacher who preaches faithfully when it is favorable and exercises wisdom and agility in the times that are unfavorable, must teach his listeners that suffering is part of the Christian’s calling (2 Corinthians 1:5-7), that suffering is not to be compared with “the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18), that suffering, ultimately, is “according to God’s will” (I Peter 4:19). The vaccine will do its job, but only when used properly.

A couple of months ago, On Army Reserve duty, I sat in two airports as both of my flights were delayed, delayed again, and delayed even further. The weather over Atlanta was angry and Air Traffic Control grounded many inbound flights until the thunderheads exhausted their wrath. After an hour and a half delay at the Greenville-Spartanburg Airport, we were cleared to fly. I made it Atlanta—only to find that my outbound flight was also delayed—repeatedly! As I waited at the gate, I watched frustrated travelers rushing through the terminal as they tried to make connecting flights. I listened as standby passengers negotiated, cajoled, and finally pleaded with Delta agents to miracle them a plane seat. All around me there was disappointment, frustration, and anger. Oddly enough, I was relatively calm—which is not my normal response to such situations. I did have nearly a three-hour margin between flights, so I confess that it is easy to be holy when you have a long lay-over! But there was something else at work. Thinking about this topic forced me to revisit some of my most basic beliefs.

This much I can say with certainty. My recent reflections on God’s goodness, sovereignty, and providence provided fresh reminders that none of the frenetic activity around me occurred apart from the powerful, loving, and kind disposition of my heavenly father. For our Heavenly Father, “all times are favorable.” And then one more thought came to mind. I wondered how many of the frantic multitude surrounding me in Terminal B of the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport had that same confidence. Some of those travelers were soldiers returning to war. Others, businessmen and women, were rushing off in desperate search of the deal that might keep their businesses alive. Many travelers were saying goodbye to family members who lived a good distance, perhaps even an ocean away. Some would fly off to face new troubles before the day, week, or month is past. Almost all will remain forever nameless to me, but some will have new troubles played out on the nightly news. How many of these dear people, rushing to and fro with the many burdens of life, had heard a sermon, any time in recent memory, that inoculated them for the favorable and unfavorable events of life they inevitably will face?

Calvin Miller tells a story that reminds preachers of their calling: "Pain comes in all types and sizes. . . . A preacher that I much admire wrote of a time when his daughter was very ill with a condition that would soon take her life. He confessed that these were very dark days for his family and that during her illness he never went to church casually to hear the casual preaching of a casual parson. He went to church desperately because his needs were desperate. Most of the time he heard three-point sermons filled with lots of information about the Bible. But what he really wanted was not more biblical information but a pastor who would bleed with him. . . . Sermons are not placebos prescribed to make people feel good. But they are a stab at kingdom togetherness, and they are a balm for the broken. Audience analysis reaches its heights when something like 9/11 happens. For one brief, shining moment, sermons all weep from church to church nationwide. We have no answer for the great pain, but not to offer the hurting a God-word is sermonic shame." (Preaching, 54)

Indeed. We who preach do not have magic solutions to the cares of life, but we do have the Word, and we must proclaim it when things are favorable—and unfavorable.

Some of you may be scheduled to preach this coming Sunday. You will have listeners hoping to hear a word from God. For someone, this Sunday may be a favorable moment; for someone else, the world is all out of frame, and their times are desperately unfavorable. Preach the Word! God has promised to bless it—and your listeners desperately need to hear it. In C. S. Lewis,’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Lucy asks the Great Lion, Aslan, if the four Pevensie children, will visit Narnia again? And further asks if that return visit can be “soon.” When Aslan agrees, Lucy continues, “Please, Aslan . . . what do you call soon?” “I call all times soon,” said Aslan. My friends, the God who calls all times soon, also calls all times his, for he is at work, even in our suffering, for his own glory and our highest good.

Preached in Chapel, Erskine Theological Seminary, 14 April 2010

THE MEANING OF DEATH

Psalm 90:1-12, A PRAYER OF MOSES, THE MAN OF GOD. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. 2 Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. 3 You return man to dust and say, "Return, O children of man!" 4 For a thousand years in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night. 5 You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning: 6 in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers. 7 For we are brought to an end by your anger; by your wrath we are dismayed. 8 You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence. 9 For all our days pass away under your wrath; we bring our years to an end like a sigh. 10 The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away. 11 Who considers the power of your anger, and your wrath according to the fear of you? 12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.



I don’t get to Durham often—and this is not how I planned to spend my weekend. But, then, I suspect none of you expected to be here for Keith’s funeral either. When my brother, Dale, called on Monday, I knew something was wrong. He had that “I have some bad news hesitancy” in his voice—and then he said, “I have some bad news.” Just a few days ago, the last thing on anyone’s mind would be gathering for Keith’s funeral. The New Year began with such promise and hope—who would have expected this? Yet Monday morning came, and with it the word spreading from family members to friends, to co-workers, to acquaintances, that Keith had slipped away from this vale of tears into the presence of the Lord. And so here we are today, and our hearts are heavy with loss. It is a privilege for me to stand here today—to reflect on a life lived well, and to say a last goodbye to a beloved friend.

I have had the privilege of knowing Keith for almost 40 years. What a trip this has been. I have some rather vivid memories of Keith, and I am sure you do as well. However, since I have the floor now, I will share some of mine. I remember the day Keith showed up at school with his ’67 Mercury Cougar. He was wearing what we called his “purple pantsuit.” I remember thinking to myself, this is a man who is secure in his masculinity! If we had only had a 1970’s version of “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” we could have saved him from this massive wardrobe malfunction. But those were the days of Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy—and Keith in his purple pantsuit.

There was a tight little group of friends that used to hang together. And Keith was usually present when we were flirting with disaster. When we went out to toss eggs at people. Or light firecrackers. Or launch water balloons. Or shoot bottle rockets at other cars, or people, or front porches. Or throw bottles at traffic signs. Or shine our spotlight into the living-room windows of folks we didn’t like. Keith was with me when I put my Camaro in a ditch. And then, not to be outdone, he put his Cougar in a ditch. And then I upped the ante and put my Camaro in another ditch. At that point Keith had the good sense to realize there was no future in this ditching of cars—and let me win. Anyone who watched us might have concluded: it is only a matter of time before they all ended up in the penitentiary. And Barry, if someone had asked, “Will Barry spend his life fighting fires—or setting fires?” I suspect it would have been even money on both. But here we are and the only stripes we are wearing are pin-stripes. Amazing grace, indeed.

Well, in time, Keith married, had two wonderful, now-grown and accomplished children, built a career, and completed his college education. Yes, completed his college degree! What a marvelous triumph of dedication and perseverance that was! And he was so proud of both Keith, Jr. and Laura—and so looked forward to Laura’s wedding. Now a word about Keith’s marriage. You know that Keith was the first among us to have a mixed marriage. I remember when he fell head over heels for Cheryl. I thought maybe it was her car that got his attention. I was wrong. He fell in love and married her, and, well, . . . Cheryl was not from around here. I used to think Keith was nuts, marrying a Yankee and all. Until I ended up marrying one, too. . . . Now I think both of us were nuts!

Okay, I am just kidding about that one—but I am not kidding about this. Keith, like all of us, had the capacity to become angry and to be stern. But such emotions were rarely seen and, if they did appear, always seemed out of character. His default setting was something I always admired—and wished that I had. There was a kindness, dare I say, a gentleness, about Keith. A steady, dependable, “what can I do to help you” spirit that came through in every part of his life.

My brother, Keith, was a man of faith. Not the oppressive rule-oriented Christianity of our youth. Long ago, many of us walked away from that flavor of Christianity. Look, it is no secret that a lot of us have had lingering heartburn with the church. And so did Keith. And so do I—even to this very day. Over the years we had many conversations about what is wrong with the church. But it is one thing to complain about the church, and the bad behavior of a lot of church-folks, and another thing entirely to place your trust in a merciful and gracious God. In the midst of all the trials of life, I have never doubted for one moment that Keith’s faith in the Lord was alive and well. It was to the Lord that Keith returned time and again for sustaining grace. And it is to the same gracious God, who gifted him with faith, that we turn today in our hour of need.

Today, as we gather here, I suspect we don’t really think about the meaning of death as the Bible presents it. We don’t like to think about death at all. Like the toddler who believes he disappears when you play “peek-a-boo,” we act as if death will go away if we just ignore it. And so we were all shocked to hear that Keith, so vital, so much a part of our lives, is gone from us. We want to consider his death an anomaly. But that is not the case. Keith is not the exception. To think that this shattering event is extraordinary is the furthest thing from the truth of Scripture. In reality, what is wrong with this picture is not that Keith has died, that he is gone. What is wrong with this picture is that we are NOT dead. D.A. Carson, in his book, How Long, O Lord? notes that “death must be seen, not as the supreme instance of a cosmic lack of fairness, but as God’s well-considered sentence against our sin.” (D.A. Carson, How Long, O Lord?, 110.)

And that is exactly what we find in our text. “You return man to dust and say, ‘Return, O children of man!’ . . . You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning.” Moses, the author of this psalm, continues, “we have been consumed by Your anger. And by Your wrath we have been dismayed. You have placed our iniquities before You, Our secret sins in the light of Your presence. For all our days have declined in Your fury; We have finished our years like a sigh.”

Now, these are not just the words of the “Angry God” of the Old Testament. The New Testament echoes this same theme, telling us in Romans 6:23 that “the wages of sin is death” and in Hebrews 9:27, “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment.” This means, as Carson points out, “that I am a responsible participant in my own death. ”(Ibid., 112.) We are a race of sinners, on our way to just condemnation. And if God calls one of us to account sooner, rather than later, this does not mean that his sin is more horrendous, or her guilt somehow greater. It does not mean that those who live on are somehow more righteous than those who pass away in an “untimely” fashion. And doesn’t our sense of shock at an “untimely death” say something about our expectation “that we ought to live out a full life span, that God somehow owes that to us?” (Ibid., 116) On the contrary, according to Scripture, everyone in this room has spent a lifetime working towards condemnation and death. My mother used to talk about being “in hell with her back broke.” That is what we have earned.

Not exactly the words of encouragement you were expecting at a funeral, eh? Well, having said these things, there is yet more that we must say. For to stop here is to miss another biblical truth, the truth that God’s anger at our sin is not the whole story. Indeed there is a whole different angle of vision we must consider if we will know fully the meaning of death. The fact is, death also points us to the mercy of God, the love of God, and the grace of God. Hear these words from another Psalm, the 103rd:

“Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. . . . The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children.”

Now let’s be clear about this: God’s compassion is not abstract; it is concrete. Romans 5:8 says that “God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Here is the great mystery of the gospel, that God who hates sin and reckons all sinners worthy of death, loved us with an everlasting love—and sent his son, our Lord Jesus Christ to bear the guilt of our sin, to suffer and to die on our behalf. As the Scripture says, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:22).

Look. Nowhere does the Scripture indicate that God has changed his mind about sin. He still hates sin. In fact, Romans 1:18 reminds us that “the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth.” But this God who hates sin and whose wrath is revealed against all ungodliness is the same God “who so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whoever believes on him, shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” The meaning of death cannot be understood apart from the person of Jesus Christ who died, was buried, but rose again from the dead.

And this brings us to another thought about the meaning of death. Jesus, who died on the cross not only satisfied God’s wrath against sin, he also rose again to show God’s approval of his sacrifice. “The cross, then, is the place where God’s justice and love meet. God retains the integrity of his justice; God pours out the fullness of his love. In the cross, God shows himself to be just and the one who justifies sinners whose faith rests in his Son. The death of God’s own Son is the only adequate gauge of what God thinks of my sin; the death of God’s own Son is the only basis on which I may be forgiven that sin. The cross is the triumph of justice and love.” (Ibid., 116)

This triumph of justice and love is the promise that those who die in the Lord, will yet live again. In John 11, Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” This is our hope, that death is not the end, but the beginning. When we consider the meaning of death in the light of eternity, we acknowledge that “death remains an enemy, an outrage, a sign of judgment, a reminder of sin, and a formidable opponent.” ( Ibid., 150) But, . . . from another perspective “it is the portal through which we pass” to new and unending life in the presence of our Lord. (Ibid.)

My friends, look around you. Many of us have known each other for three or four decades. We knew each other before losing all the hair, gaining all the weight, and undergoing all the surgeries. We can all remember the days before Insulin, Lipitor, Coumadin, and Viagra. Do not do fool yourself by living as though death will not come your way; as though the strength of your youth will not fail. I can predict your future. And it runs through Clements Funeral Home, . . . or some other mortuary. No one gets out of this life alive.

In his children’s book, The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis tells the story of Jill, a young girl who finds herself thirsty and standing before a stream of cool, clear water. Although the sight of the water made her feel ten times thirstier than before, she didn’t rush forward and drink. She stood still as if she had been turned into stone. And she had a very good reason; just on this side of the stream sat a huge lion. Those of you who have seen the movie, The Chronicles of Narnia, have seen this great lion. His name is Aslan; he is the Christ figure in Narnia, and in the book and movie he offers himself as a sacrifice to pay for the sins of the guilty. But in this story, Aslan is the barrier between Jill and the stream of water.

After a bit, Aslan, spoke. “If you’re thirsty, you may drink” . . . . For a second Jill stared about, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, “If you are thirsty, come and drink.” But Jill saw who spoke and was afraid to move. “Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion. “I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill. “Then drink,” said the Lion. “Do you eat girls?” she said. “I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. Aslan didn’t say this as if he were boasting, nor as if he were sorry, or even angry. He just said it. “I dare not come and drink,” said Jill. “Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion. “Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.” “There is no other stream,” said the Lion. Jill went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn’t need much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once.” (C. S. Lewis, The Silver Chair, 21.)

Let’s be clear: without Jesus, death is the beginning of unending sorrows, separation from God, and eternal darkness. Without Jesus, the emptiness that you sometimes experience now will never end— it will only grow infinitely worse. Your thirst will never be quenched. If you are trusting in Jesus, death is only the “valley of the shadow of death.” He is the living water that quenches the thirst of all who come to him and drink. You see, those who believe in Jesus pass through death and death dies as we enter into the joy of the Lord forever. What are you holding on to this day? Do you have a hope that is greater than you? Hear these words from Revelation 22:17: “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.” There is no other stream.

Cheryl, Keith, Laura, Barry, George—we sorrow today, but not as those who have no hope, for we believe that Keith has passed from this life into the presence of his Lord. He is there with his mother Estelle and a host of other believers, without number, from every tongue, and tribe, and nation on earth. Not because Keith was worthy of heaven. Oh Lord, none of us is worthy of heaven and I might very well be the least worthy in this room. No, Keith is in the presence of the Lord because Jesus loved him with an everlasting love—dying for his sins on the cross and promising to raise him to newness of life at that last day. The book of Revelation begins with a vision of Jesus Christ. The apostle John tells us what he saw:

“Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. The hairs of his head were white like wool, as white as snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, ‘Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hell.’”

Jesus has the keys! The meaning of death has been transformed forever by the resurrection of our Lord, so that we cry out, “‘O grave, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (I Cor. 15:55-57). In the Heidelberg Catechism, Question 1 asks, “What is your only comfort in life and death?” And gives this answer: “That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Savior Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by his Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto him.” Indeed, our comfort is this: when Keith was not able to hold on to life any longer, he belonged to his faithful Savior, Jesus, who was able to hold on to Keith. And that is our hope; in life, in death, in life beyond death. Thanks be to God.


Funeral Service for my best friend, Keith
Durham, NC
January 10, 2009

DISAPPOINTED IN GOD: Matthew 15:21-28

As we begin this morning, I have a confession to make. You can relax—my confession is not very juicy, but I am afraid you will still find it disturbing. So, here it goes: I am disappointed in the Lord. Frankly, there are times when I don’t like the way he runs things. I have been wrestling with the Lord for some things for years, and the list of things I would do differently is growing larger as I get older. At the top of that list is the 9/11 tragedy. I would not have let that happen. Instead, I would have done something suitably Old Testament to the terrorists—perhaps sending a couple of bears out of the woods to maul them to death, or letting loose a flood of water to drown them all. Better still, how about the ever-popular earth opening up and swallowing them alive? I am not really picky—just as long as they all died in some suitably horrible and preferably painful manner. You will have to forgive me; I suspect that is the warrior in me speaking.

But note this—apparently I am not the only one who has been disappointed in the Lord. The Bible is filled with people who were disappointed in the Lord. Think of Mary and Martha in John 11. They sent a message to Jesus, letting him know that his good friend Lazarus was deathly ill. Jesus responded by doing nothing, just staying put for a couple of days. By the time he decided to visit Bethany, Lazarus was dead and his cold body was in the tomb. In Luke 9, the disciples were on their way to Jerusalem when they ran into opposition from some Samaritan villagers. James and John responded to this by asking Jesus if he wanted them to call down fire from heaven to destroy the wicked Samaritans. To their disappointment, Jesus rebuked them for their haste and lack of grace.

I think it is fair to say that Job was disappointed in the Lord. The Scripture tells us the God commended Job for his faithfulness and obedience. In fact Job was the great example of faithfulness that God held up before Satan. But that faithfulness didn’t have much of a payoff, did it? All of his children, servants, flocks and herds—gone in an instant. What a payoff! Don’t you think Job was disappointed in the Lord? Indeed he was, for he spends most of the rest of the book complaining and asking for a redress of his grievances.

Apparently everyone in our text was disappointed in the Lord also. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus had engaged in open conflict with the Pharisees over their hypocrisy and faithlessness. They were disappointed that he did not keep their religious traditions. They asked him pointedly, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don’t wash their hands before they eat.” The Pharisees reasoned that God was pleased with externalities. Be of the right racial stock; wash your hands; keep the traditions that have been passed down. These are the things that really matter.

Jesus responded by correcting their bad theology. He called them hypocrites and blind leaders of the blind. “It’s not what goes into a man’s mouth that makes him unclean.” Jesus said. “It’s what comes out of the mouth.” Eating with dirt on your hands does not make you unclean in God’s sight. Instead, “the things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and these make a man unclean. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander.” These things, manifested outwardly, spring from a heart made unclean by sin.

Jesus distanced himself from the Pharisees by his teaching. And, after this exchange, he distanced himself physically from the Jews. He left Galilee to travel about thirty miles northward in the direction of Tyre and Sidon, a Gentile stronghold. These cities were situated in the general vicinity of modern Beirut. The inhabitants of those lands were called “Phoenicians,” a word that comes from the Greek word for Canaanite. If you know your Old Testament, you will remember that the Canaanites were the inhabitants of the Promised Land, the wicked people who were destroyed by Joshua’s invading forces. They were notorious for their worship of many gods and their depraved religious practices. When Jesus drew near to this region, a Canaanite woman came to him begging for mercy. She asked Jesus to deliver her daughter from demon possession. Literally, “she kept on crying to him,” asking him for help.

Now, delivering someone from demon possession appears to be all in a day’s work for Jesus. Matthew had already recorded that Jesus had healed two demon-possessed men, one in chapter 8, and the other in chapter 12. Besides, according to Matthew 14:35, 36, Jesus already had been quite busy, healing people from all over the countryside. So, all things being equal, she wasn’t asking for the moon and the stars. She wasn’t even asking a favor for herself—she begged Jesus on behalf of her daughter whom she loved. We read that Jesus did not even acknowledge her request. The text is emphatic: “Not a word” did he answer her.

Well, this Canaanite woman was disappointed. She had addressed Jesus as Lord, probably a term of devotion, since she also called him by the Messianic title, “Son of David.” These expressions suggest that she was familiar with the Old Testament. She may have heard about his teaching, perhaps even knew some of the people he had healed. In light of all she knew about Jesus, she expected anything but cold, icy silence. And, so she came to him, as Mark’s account tells us, on behalf of her “little daughter” (Mark 7:25) as “soon as she heard about him.” Surely this one who had done so much for others could something for her! But, when Jesus finally spoke, he brushed her off, callously stating that he was sent only to help the lost sheep of Israel.

Now, wouldn’t you have done something to help her if you had been there? If you had the ability? Can you identify with her at all? Have you ever spent a sleepless night in a hospital waiting room? Watching the clock tick, second by second, so infinitely slowly. Have you ever been there? Have you ever prayed about something that was ripping your heart out, and felt that your prayers were bouncing off the ceiling tiles and going no higher? That was the Canaanite woman’s experience, and her heart ached with disappointment.

According to our text, the disciples also heard the woman’s cries for help. They noted Jesus’ silence and were themselves disappointed in the Lord. But consider this: they were disappointed not because Jesus failed to help this poor woman. Apparently they gave no thought to her problem at all. They just wanted her to be quiet. She was a nuisance. They wanted Jesus to send her away at once and to put an end to the noise. Now I don’t have much occasion to go to Toys ‘R Us these days. But, when my kids were small, I spent much time and much money in their stores. On too many occasions I have been to the toy store when some Mom or Dad—who did not know why God created duct tape— would beg and plead with a screaming small person to “please behave,” “please be quiet.” I would gladly have offered my services as a child-development consultant to stop the howling. Well, something similar happened in our text. The disciples just wanted Jesus to put an end to this embarrassing and irritating scene. They “kept on urging him” to send her away, and were disappointed when he did not act to end this scene.

With neither Jesus nor the disciples showing any concern at all, her disappointment should have been enough to send her packing. But this poor woman was shameless, and proceeded to act out one of the most pathetic scenes in the Bible. Throwing herself at Jesus’ feet, she cried out, “Lord, help me.” At this point she had identified herself completely with her daughter’s need. In her mind, their needs had become inseparable. Apparently unmoved by her tears and desperation, Jesus replied to her that it would be inappropriate to take the children’s food and give it to the dogs. The Jews typically viewed themselves as God’s children and considered the unclean Gentiles to be nothing more than dogs. Jesus used the very language of the Jews and by that language appeared to endorse their arrogance and exclusivism. But his intent was otherwise.

It is at this point that the woman responded in a remarkable manner. Her spirit was vexed and her heart was broken. But she would not turn aside. In humility, she acknowledged herself to be unworthy. But even as she accepted Jesus’ apparent dismissal of her as a dirty gentile, she reminded him that even the little housedogs ate crumbs that fell from their master’s table. And, we find something amazing in our text. In response to her final plea, Jesus now addresses her disappointment. He said, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be to you as you wish. And her daughter was healed that very hour!”

What a contrast between the Canaanite woman and the Pharisees! The Pharisees were the children of the covenant. They had the oracles of God, and the Anointed One himself stood in their midst. But with all their privileges, the Lord was disappointed in them. They despised the very Bread of Life set before them. Unlike his seeming indifference to the Canaanite woman, Jesus had frequently offered himself to his own people. But now, in our text, Jesus speaks not words of comfort, but condemnation. He accused the Pharisees of drawing near with their lips while their hearts were far from him.

The Canaanite woman, however, was a foreigner to the covenant of God. Yet she drew near with her heart and hungered for the Living Bread. With her lips she sought mercy—and Jesus gave it to her. Not at first, mind you, for he withheld outwardly what he intended to give her inwardly. Jesus disappointed the Canaanite woman in order to bless her in the end. At first he ignored her with his lips in order that at last he might draw her heart close to his heart.

This has often been the experience of God’s people. Think of how long Abraham and Sarah waited for the promised son, Isaac. Think of the many times the Psalmist cried out, “O Lord, how long?” And think of the other examples we find in the New Testament. Why did Jesus delay to heal the blind men in Matthew 9? Why did he take so long before responding to Jairus whose daughter lay dying on her bed? Why did he delay those two days in Bethany, letting Lazarus slip from sickness into death, John 11:6?

In C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, four children, Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy, are transported to the magical land of Narnia. Narnia is a strange place. There are talking animals and an evil witch who has cursed everything. In Narnia, the children prepare to meet Aslan, the Great King, the Christ Figure who brings redemption to the land of Narnia. “Who is Aslan?” asks Susan. “Aslan,” said Mr. Beaver, “Why don’t you know? He’s the King. He’s the Lord of the whole wood.” “Is—he a man?” asked Lucy. “Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly, “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood, and the Son of the Great Emperor Beyond the Sea. Don’t you know who is the king of beasts? Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the Great Lion.” “Oooh,” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he— quite safe?” “I shall feel very nervous about meeting a lion.” “That you will, deary, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver: “If there is anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.” “Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy. “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”

Back to my confession. The Lord has disappointed me, just as he disappointed Mary and Martha, Lazarus, and Job. Just as he has disappointed every one of us on so many occasions. But consider this. Although he disappointed Mary and Martha, at the end he restored Lazarus to life, strengthening the faith of the disciples and causing many of the Jews to believe on him. He did heal the blind men. And he took Jairus’ daughter by the hand, saying “Little girl, rise up.” He does not act on our timing, but is never late for a divine appointment.

How has God disappointed you? Has he ignored your desperate pleas for help? Has he responded to your loud cries and groanings with a deafening silence? Has he let the tears flow while you knelt helplessly at his feet? Do not waste those tears. When God knocks the props out and removes the arm of flesh, do not let your trials be in vain. “The testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” James 1:2, 3. Not one of your trials is accidental, and no disappointment is without divine purpose. They are all part of God’s plan to make you die to yourself and become more like Jesus.

As we have seen in our text, when the Lord turns a deaf ear to us, he does so to draw us closer to him, so that we may hear him more clearly when he does speak. When he ignores our cries for help, it is only to teach us what we need ask of him. He disappoints us not out of malice or indifference, but out of love. We do not understand his ways, and there are many things that puzzle us. But this much we know. When he disappoints us, it is not to hurt us, but to teach us that he alone is our joy, our contentment, and our all-sufficiency. You see, he isn’t safe. But he is good. He’s the King, I tell you.

AT THE END OF ALL THINGS: A Sermon experiment

OK- not a traditional sermon, but an attempt at preaching to postmodern listeners.

I suppose the idea for this sermon came about one night as I was watching “The Return of the King,” on TV, the third part of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The next day I found myself day-dreaming, letting my mind do a little free association as it wandered here and there. For some reason, the phrase “At the end of all things” kept coming to mind. I knew that was a Tolkien phrase and so I pulled out my trusty, well-worn copy of the third volume and double-checked the context. After the Ring of Power was destroyed in the fiery cracks of Mt. Doom, Frodo and Sam watched the world come crashing down around them. Frodo said to Sam, “the quest is achieved, and now all is over. I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam.”
I began to ponder that phrase, “at the end of all things.” Certainly when Frodo uttered those words, it seemed clear that the end was near as mountains tumbled and rivers of fire streamed all ever closer. Sure looked like the end of all things. And, if you listened to certain voices, there are many who seem to think we are very close to the end of all things. Nothing like a global economic meltdown and possible swine flu pandemic to get folks stirred up in full Armageddon mode. Seems like every time I flip down to the premium channels Arnold’s film, “The End of Days,” is showing. I flipped on John Hagee the other day just in time to see him press his thumb and forefinger close together and say, “We’re that close to the Second Coming.” Catch Jack Van Impe or Hal Lindsey on the tube and they will gladly coordinate your Bible with the latest headlines, especially all the doom and gloom economic news, disease, earthquakes, wars and rumors of wars.
This fascination with “the end of all things” is quite interesting, and I am not unaffected by the headlines. The economic downturn has hit home. My retirement account is about as healthy as I am—and that’s pretty scary. If a world-wide influenza outbreak occurs (stay tuned for breaking news), or tensions in Pakistan, North Korea, Iran, or the Taiwan Strait, turn into military confrontation, we will all sit up and pay attention. Meanwhile, I remain suspicious that the focus on all the bizarre apocalyptic stuff misses the mark on what is really important “at the end of all things.” And that is what I want to talk about for a few minutes.
I could tell you that I had a dream and that my dream is where this sermon idea originated. You know, sort of a John Bunyan, Pilgrim’s Progress, motif. But that would not be the truth. I suspect I could not pull that off. Some of you might remember when the television series, “Dallas,” miracled away the entire 1986 season as Pamela Ewing woke up from a dream. That desperate measure had all the subtlety of a battleship and I freely admit I do not have the literary skills to make “my dream” believable.
So, instead, I will simply tell you what came to mind while I was consciously day-dreaming. I have occasionally visited that Walter Mitty world where I have preached to thousands, written New York Times bestsellers, and single-handedly won the War on Terror. This time, however, I was pondering that phrase, “the end of all things.” In my mind, I saw myself in a room that was new to me, yet somehow comfortably familiar. I had never been there, yet had this pleasantly odd feeling that I was at home. Can you remember finding something that you have been looking for? The sense of relief, that your own internal mental dialogue has been satisfied: Where did I put it? When did I use it last? Remember how it felt when you found what was missing and held it in your hands again? I think that was what I was feeling, that I had found the place I had been looking for all of my life.
I realized I was not alone. I sensed a presence and saw a figure in the near distance. I don’t think he suddenly appeared. Rather, it was as though I had been looking through a dirty window that needed a good cleaning. You know how it is, after all the spring pollen has been flying around; your windows need a good cleaning. Give them a squirt of Windex and wax on, wax off—suddenly everything becomes clear. He beckoned to me to come closer. I recognized, well recognized is not the word, really. That only works when you have seen someone before. Yet I believed that I had seen him, though not with these eyes. It was the Lord Jesus, himself, and he was surrounded by an innumerable host of heavenly beings and saints. He was seated and there was a table next to his chair.
At first, I thought how wonderful this is! There was definitely an other-worldly air about it all and so far no one in a red suit, pitchfork, and horns—and the temperature seemed just about perfect. Not too hot at all. I started to kneel when I heard him say, “Behold the perfect law, the law of liberty.” I looked and there before me was a copy of the Ten Commandments—like the ones you see posted in the yards of some folks, but more substantial. Maybe of marble or granite—or at least a very high quality veneer. I looked and saw that there were, indeed, Ten Commandments. And I was quite pleased! The Reformed WERE right. I knew the Lutherans and the Roman Catholics were wrong when they jammed 1 and 2 together and broke 9 into two parts! My inner systematic theologian thought, “Yes!”
And then the Lord said, “We are here to discuss your non-compliance with regulatory requirements.” This really was a shock. I had always thought the Lord might be a closet Republican—and here he was talking like a Democrat political appointee. I felt a sudden weakness in my knees and said, “Well, I did say a few things while I was in Iraq that I am not exactly proud of.”
“Yes, I noted those infractions—but whoever keeps the law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it.”
“You mean, I am guilty of all Ten? But surely there is a bit of flexibility here, I mean, that’s not quite the same as actually breaking them all. For example (and I looked quickly for solid ground), I have never murdered anyone.”
“Is that so? Do you not remember— ” and then a name rolled off his tongue, a name I had nearly forgotten. I had for a time hated that man. He was wicked by all accounts, and I despised him for it. He must have known my thoughts, for the Lord spoke again: “You are right. He was wicked, bent, and he remains wicked to this day. And he will spend eternity separated from me because he was wicked. But I told you, did I not, to love your enemies?”
“Yes Lord, you did.”
“Do you not remember— ” and another name escaped from his lips and seemed to hang in midair between us. “I do,” I replied with some hesitation, “but I always thought him to be a scoundrel.”
“Indeed you did. And you tried to hide it, and not admit the truth to yourself. But in your heart you hated him. Didn’t you?” I looked down for a moment before slightly lifting my eyes, “Yes, I suppose I did.”
“Did I not say that ‘everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment?’ Will it surprise you to learn that he is here?”
“What! Him? Here?”
“You ARE surprised,” the Lord said—and smiled a curious smile that caught me completely off-guard. But before I could offer any justification, he spoke again. “Well, that’s not important. He was surprised that you are here, also. But never mind that; you will learn to love each other. Those are the rules of the house, and even though you didn’t get it right in the vale of tears, you will find the very air in this place breathes forgiveness and love. I have great hopes for you, still.”
“Hope? You have hope for me? That is good news indeed! This meeting has not gone exactly as I had hoped.” As I spoke, he gestured gently with open palm and before my eyes, ten, thick volumes bound in fine blood-red Corinthian leather appeared on the table. Stamped in fiery gold letters on each volume was the title Gore, R. J. Jr.,: Complete Works in Ten Volumes. “I don’t suppose that is the large print edition of my writings as a professor?”
“No,” he replied, with just the least trace of sadness in his voice. “Open and see for yourself.”
I have to confess I was unnerved by this whole sequence of events. I was curious about what was in those volumes, but the most unsettling feeling come over me as I stretched out my hand. I tried to place that feeling and couldn’t quite locate it. And then it came to me—I KNEW that feeling; I had felt it once when I heard the screeching of tires—in the moment before my I slid my 1971 Camaro into a ditch. I had felt it when a mortar exploded just outside our headquarters building in Iraq. Instinctively, I drew back my now-trembling hand.
“Go ahead,” he said patiently. “Take, and read.”
I opened the first volume. At the beginning, of course. I have never been one of those people who jump around in a book. There is a first chapter and first page for a reason, you know. I reached down into my jacket pocket to retrieve my glasses, when I realized I could read the print without needing glasses! I had not been able to do that since my early 40s! My momentary excitement turned to dread as I saw what was on the first line. And the second. And the third. I flipped pages quickly, hoping that the plot would change. It did not.
It was a list. The most horrible list I have ever seen. It started on May 25th, 1955 and continued on, day after day, year after year. It looked as though it contained every sin I had ever committed, in word, thought, or deed—all the things I had done I ought not to have done, and all the things I ought to have done, but left undone. Sins of word, thought, and deed. I grabbed the fifth volume, I think, flipped it open to the middle (I know I told you I was not one of those people, but this was a special situation). It too was a list. More sins—of a more recent vintage, however. And the particular sins had changed—new sins, the sins of a young adult—but all pointing to remaining wickedness of heart and that part of me that was never fully sanctified. I felt my face grow warm, flushing with shame; the great host of witnesses watched intently.
A sense of dread fell upon me, greater than anything I had ever experienced before.
I heard his voice: “The bill of particulars appears to be very long.” He did not say this harshly, but, it seemed, with a voice full of pity. I looked up, hesitantly, and saw his eyes. I am not sure I can describe what I saw. His eyes were, well, I couldn’t tell you the color, but they were filled with love, pity, grief, and mercy all at once.
I screwed up all the courage I had, but could only squeak out a very weak, “Yes, Lord.”
“You don’t remember many of those, do you?”
“No, Lord. Some of those sins I recalled as I read them. Others, I don’t remember at all.”
“Well, love covers a multitude of sins—and here and there I have already healed some of your memories. But, you can be confident the record is accurate. Completely accurate. Now, I want you to look at the last volume.”
“Must I? I know I did those things, said those words, and thought those terrible thoughts. I confess my guilt. I know I failed you over and over again. I asked forgiveness many, many times. Wasn’t that enough?”
“My son, open the last volume. Turn to the last page. In the vale of tears, you did trust me, however feebly and inconsistently. And, no, asking forgiveness is not enough. Now, trust me one more time.”
My hand was trembling mightily as I opened the last volume. It took both hands to get to the last page. With my left hand I held down all those stacked pages on the left as my right hand stretched the binding to open the last page.
“Look at the last line on the last page.”
I scrolled down the list of very recent sins; it seemed as though I had just committed some of them moments before. And then the list stopped. Underneath the Times New Roman, 12 point type, Someone had written a few lines by hand. It was an unknown script, yet somehow familiar. My heart skipped a beat as I scrutinized the handwriting. It said, “Full Atonement Made. Debt Paid in Full. Zero balance due.” Underneath that was the signature in the same handwriting: “Jesus Christ, Mount Calvary, 14 Nisan, A.D. 27.” An asterisk pointed me to the bottom of the page where there was a footnote: “Name transferred to Book of Life, 13 October, 1968.”
I looked up, and he smiled and said, “Enter into the joy of the Lord.” I wanted to break into song, to jump, to celebrate! My heart was so full, yet all I could do was say, “Thank you, Jesus.”
And that is how it will be at the end of all things for all of us. You are all writing your own collected works; some of you will have a collection that is larger than mine, others, smaller. But be certain—in spite of all the bad TV preachers and their wild interpretations of prophecy, the time will come when the books will be opened. At the end of all things you will need an atoning sacrifice that washes away all sin. In Revelation 20:12-15, John writes: “Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. From his presence earth and sky fled away, and no place was found for them. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done. And the sea gave up the dead who were in it, Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them, and they were judged, each one of them, according to what they had done. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire. And if anyone's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire.”
At the conclusion of Pilgrim’s Progress, Bunyan says, “So I awoke, and behold it was a dream.” Well, I have already told you that I wasn’t actually dreaming, so I can’t try that clever ending. Besides, it has already been used and my plagiarism would be obvious. So, it was only a day dream and merely the wanderings of a slightly fevered mind. But I think it has the ring of truth about it.
One day we will come to the end of all things. But the end of all things also will be the beginning of all new things—that is, for those whose debt has been paid in full! Until that glorious day, hear again these words of grace and mercy from Revelation 22:17, “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.”
“Thank you, Jesus.


R. J. Gore Jr., Ph.D.
Preached in chapel at Erskine Seminary, 29 April 2009

BOOKS ON PREACHING: Buttrick

A major work on homiletics appeared in 1987, David Buttrick’s Homiletic (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987). Buttrick is an emeritus professor of Homiletics and Worship at the Divinity School of Vanderbilt University. Homiletic is a large volume of nearly 500 pages and is devoted to recasting the shape and movement of sermons. Buttrick says his goal is to “describe how sermons happen in consciousness, your consciousness as a preacher and the attendant consciousness of a congregation” (xii). Or, as he said in a recent interview about his approach (as over against the traditional “three points and a poem): “One of the big features is the idea of movement of thought. How do you do that in preaching? Instead of having a fixed topic and then objective points about it? The question is how to do create [sic] language that moves in consciousness and forms and changes people.”

To that end, Part 1 deals with “Moves,” or smaller parts, of the overall sermon structure. Buttrick describes a move as “a language module between three and four minutes in length” (28). Moves take the place of traditional points, and a “good sermon” is “a gridwork of interacting images, examples, and illustrations” (153). This first part includes discussions on moves (chapters 2-5); the framework of sermons (introduction, chapter 6; conclusion, chapter 7); images, metaphors, examples and illustrations (chapters 8-10); and discussions on language and style (chapters 11-13). Chapter 14 addresses the difference between preaching “in-church” and “out-church” (primarily evangelism, and primarily the work of the laity).

Part 2 deals with “Structures” and includes basic introductory material on hermeneutics (chapters 15-17), homiletics (chapters 18-20), and structures (chapters 21-25). By structures Buttrick is concerned with the overall shape of the sermon. Buttrick acknowledges that narrative is a legitimate option, but cautions that “few of us are skillful enough to tell a story in such a way that theological meaning forms” (334). Homiletic is an interesting work, with some excellent insights mixed with occasional, unhelpful comments about politics. It is sufficiently idiosyncratic that it is probably not useful as a primary text in preaching.

BOOKS ON PREACHING: Old

A significant work on preaching comes from the Dean of the Institute for Reformed Worship at Erskine Theological Seminary, Hughes Oliphant (“Scoti”) Old. Old’s first volume in the multi-volume work, The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures in the Worship of the Christian Church is subtitled The Biblical Period (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). In the “Introduction,” Old clarifies the focus of his ambitious undertaking. First, he explains that the purpose of his work is not preaching, per se, but preaching as worship, or how preaching “has been done as a sacred service” (7). Second, he notes the five genres of preaching that have “appeared and reappeared throughout the whole history of preaching” (8): Expository Preaching, Evangelistic Preaching, Catechetical Preaching, Festal Preaching, Prophetic Preaching. Third, in the remainder of the introduction, he defines the five genres of preaching and sets the framework for this and subsequent volumes.

The Biblical Period has three major divisions: 1) The Roots of the Christian Ministry of the Word in the Worship of Israel, 2) The Preaching of Christ and the Apostles, and 3) The Second and Third Centuries. The first division begins with chapters on the Torah, the “roots of the reading and preaching of the Word of God in Christian worship” (20-40) and the ministry of the prophets as preachers of the Word, from Samuel and Elijah through Isaiah and Jeremiah (41-83). Chapters three through five look at the ministry of the Word in the Wisdom School (84-93), in the synagogue (94-104), and in the Rabbinical schools (105-110). The third division has three chapters: the first examines historical documents from the sub-apostolic period (255-277); the second analyzes three Christian sermons from the early second century (278-305); and the third considers the relatively expansive corpus of sermons from the third century Alexandrian father, Origen (306-352).

It is the second division, The Preaching of Christ and the Apostles, that is the primary focus of this review. This division has seven chapters, the first three being: “The Ministry of Preaching in the Synoptic Gospels,” “The Ministry of Preaching in the Gospel of John,” and “The Ministry of Preaching in the Acts of the Apostles.” Chapter four is “The Ministry of the Word as Understood by the Pauline Writings” and chapter five “The Teaching of the Word as the Teaching of Wisdom in the Epistle of James.” Chapter six is “The Service of the Word in First Peter.” Chapter seven examines “The Ministry of the Word as Didache in the New Testament.” The focus of this chapter is catechetical preaching in the canonical Scriptures.

Old begins his discussion on the preaching of Christ by noting that his ministry “was above all a preaching ministry” (111). Jesus preached in formal as well as informal settings and the focus of his preaching was the Kingdom of God (113). Per Mark’s Gospel, Jesus was a preacher according to the tradition of the prophets (114) and, per Matthew, the “culmination and fulfillment of the prophetic ministry.” Old discusses the meanings of didaskein and kerussein (126-7), noting that the preaching of Jesus had a strong teaching content (on linkage between preaching and teaching, see also 118, 121-3, 138, 141, 146, 164-5, 197-8, 204, 234-6, 245-7, 250) . He states repeatedly that Jesus was an expository preacher (119, 121, 132-3) and says Jesus was an example of how ministers ought to preach (123). His sermons were well-prepared (129) and often included dialogue (132). His material was well-developed and used frequently in his teaching (139). He made consistent use of parables, similes, and illustrations (145), and “directed an important part of his preaching ministry toward the inner group of disciples” (141). John presents “the ministry of the Word [as] central to our worship” (155) and presents Jesus as the Wisdom of God (157). The “wisdom” theme appears more fully in Old’s discussion of the Epistle of James which he describes as “a compendium of the preaching ministry of a man who understood profoundly what Jesus had to say” (See 220-6).

Shifting focus to apostolic preaching, Old notes that the central focus of the ministry of the Word was kerygmatic and included “daily study sessions like those held in the rabbinical schools” (165). The preaching of the Word was sometimes accompanied by “the prophetic sign,” as at Pentecost (167) and often involved the exposition of Scripture (169). Apostolic sermons included redemptive historical elements (173, 175), were evangelistic or missionary (172-3, 176), polemical (173, 177), and sometimes reflected elements of rabbinical sermons (174). Apostolic preaching often included “the recounting of the missionaries’ [apostles’] own conversion experience” (179). Old notes that while there was continuity between the preaching of the synagogue and that of the church, there is discontinuity as well since Christian preaching includes the “Good News” of the Gospel (185).

Old discusses preaching as sacrifice, i.e., as “God ignites our hearts in sacrifice to himself” (189) and explains Paul’s preference for clear preaching in the power of the Holy Spirit to displays of eloquence and rhetorical flourish (189-95). He suggests that “prophecy” may include ecstatic elements, but is often used as a synonym (more or less) for preaching (197) and where ecstatic elements are present, it is because the regular reading and preaching of the Word have been compromised (199). Old also views the gift of tongues in a similar light: “It is when the priest and the prophet ‘err in vision’ and ‘stumble in giving judgment’ (Isa. 28:7) that God uses strange tongues. If the legitimate ministry is unfaithful, God will still be heard” (199). He discusses the many questions related to Paul’s conversion and call to ministry (206-7). Old affirms the necessity of tradition but makes this important observation about irregular or charismatic elements in the Church: “The Church needs its exciting young charismatics and the Church needs solid elders and learned scholars” (208; see also 210). Paul’s preaching identified the gospel of Jesus Christ as the revelation of the mystery that had previously been hidden (217).
The Epistle of James gives a broad outline of Christian worship which shows its connection to the Jewish synagogue (223-4). James gives evidence that the words of Jesus were already recognized as God’s Word (225). Peter gives testimony to the life-giving power of the Word (227) and describes the spiritual nature of Christian worship, namely, “the sort of worship, maintained in the synagogue, that put the emphasis on prayer, the study of the Scriptures, and the service of praise” (233). The final chapter looks at passages in the canonical Scripture that indicate the beginning of “catechetical preaching” (234-6).

Anyone who reads this volume will be impressed with the depth of scholarship that underlies the discussion. Old ranges all over the theological curriculum, discussing text-critical issues, exegetical and hermeneutical questions, historical chronology and events, theological constructs, and liturgical disputes, all apparently with the same ease and facility. Moreover, his mastery of the literature extends beyond a comprehensive knowledge of English literature in all these fields. Old is equally comfortable in the Biblical languages, as well as in Latin, French, and German. The foundation is firm, building sequentially on Old Testament preaching, Dominical preaching, apostolic preaching, and preaching in the early post-apostolic period. The direction is clear as Old develops the various genres of preaching and establishes certain themes that will occur frequently, such as the importance of Jesus’ example for preaching and teaching, the essential connection between preaching and teaching, the necessity of expository preaching, and the importance of Scripture as a guide to preaching and worship.

This volume raises some questions that need to be explored further. First, Old describes Jesus as an expository preacher, yet much of the recorded preaching and teaching of Jesus appears to be narrative or story-based, often without any apparent reference to Scripture. Second, the genres of Scripture are multiple, and there is evidence of multiple genres of preaching in Scripture and in church history. On what basis, then, is expository preaching privileged above all other types of preaching as listed on page eight of this work? Third, NT scholars have identified a number of rhetorical devices in Paul’s epistles. More information is needed to square this with the assertion that Paul opposed the use of oratorical/rhetorical flourish. [This is an intriguing issue. See the discussions on Paul’s use of classical rhetoric in James Thompson, Preaching Like Paul (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 33, 47, and especially 66-79 and 83-84. See also John D. Harvey, Listening to the Text: Oral Patterning in Paul’s Letters (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998)]. Nevertheless, this book covers a great deal of ground in a relatively short number of pages; there are few that address as many issues in as much detail in as interesting a fashion.

BOOKS ON PREACHING: Chapell

For many evangelicals, the new standard in homiletics is Bryan Chapell’s Christ-Centered Preaching, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005). Chapell, a Presbyterian minister (PCA), is president and professor of Practical Theology at Covenant Theological Seminary. Chapell declares the direction of his project in chapter one in a paean of praise to expository preaching.

The fact that the power for spiritual change resides in God’s Word argues the case for expository preaching. Expository preaching attempts to present and apply the truths of a specific biblical passage. Other types of preaching that proclaim biblical truth are certainly valid and valuable, but for the beginning preacher and for a regular congregational diet no preaching type is more important than expository (30).

Expository preaching seeks “to communicate what God has committed to Scripture in order to give God’s people his truth for their time.” (31). The word cannot be separated from the preacher and his life, because “the inside is always on view” (37).

In chapter two Chapell looks more closely at the sermon, noting that “statements of truth, even biblical truth, do not automatically make a message for the pulpit. Well-constructed sermons require unity, purpose, and application” (36). Expository preaching requires a central theme, “the Bible’s theme” (46), which can be the organizing principle for the sermon’s subordinate points (48). With this background in mind, Chapell introduces his Fallen Condition Focus which becomes the “key concept” to the way he structures the sermon (48). He explains, “The corrupted state of our world and our being cry for God’s aid. He responds with the truths of Scripture and gives us hope by focusing his grace on a facet of our fallen condition in every portion of his Word. . . . The Fallen Condition Focus (FCF) is the mutual human condition that contemporary believers share with those to or about whom the text was written that requires the grace of the passage for God’s people to glorify and enjoy him” (50, emphasis his). There may be more than one FCF in a passage, but there should be a specific FCF for a particular sermon to a particular congregation (52). In light of the FCF, the sermon is intended to transform (53) as “biblical preaching moves from exegetical commentary and doctrinal exposition to life instruction” (54). It is through application that God is able “to restore his people with his Word” (57).

Chapter three discusses the selection of the text (60-71), tools for interpreting the text (71-75), and principles of interpretation (75-81). Chapter four looks at the “Components of Exposition.” Chapell finds a pattern for expository preaching embedded in the Scripture itself (86-87), though he acknowledges this is not the only pattern (88). He says, “though a normative order does not appear in Scripture, the features of exposition occur with enough frequency to suggest a common approach to expounding God’s truth: present the Word; explain what it says; and exhort based on what it means. This is expository preaching” (88). Chapell further suggests that expository preaching consists of explanation, illustration, and application (89), though these may be proportioned differently depending on the sermon and the congregation (91).

Chapter five looks at the explanation of the text and notes that it is necessary to “exegete our listeners as well as the text to construct a sermon that most powerfully and accurately explains what the text means” (106). The process of explaining the text is foundational to the sermon, but “an exegetical outline ordinarily is not a homiletical outline” (116 emphasis his). The preacher needs to exhaust the text, though that does not mean that “everything has to be covered in equal detail” (119). The propositional character of expository preaching is reflected in the section, “The Light of Presentation,” which makes a number of references to proving the truth, proving one’s point, or presenting one’s argument (120-127).

Chapter six argues for a classical outline structure for the expository sermon which “takes its topic, main points, and subpoints from a text” (131). Chapell does say, however, “there is not one right way of shaping expository sermons and there are always exceptions regarding general principles as well as specific features” (142). He laments that “large numbers of contemporary preachers have turned away from this disciplined approach to the text” (132-3) and asserts that expository sermons using a traditional outline “still communicate well if preachers understand the principles to which key features of the outline must adhere” (135). The bulk of the chapter consists of a detailed and useful explanation of how to outline the traditional, expository sermon. Chapell addresses the contributions of the “New Homiletic,” (162-166) but warns against the underpinnings of narrative preaching: “The philosophical ground from which modern narrative theory sprouts is that propositional truth is not transcendent or transferable” (166). He suggests taking that which is useful without embracing their distrust of propositional truth (167). The last short section of the chapter (168-173) evaluates mass communication preaching and compares the “Traditional Expository Model” with the Mass Communication Model, concluding that “preachers are best equipped for a lifetime of leading God’s people when they know the variety of tools available to help them construct messages faithful to his Word” (172).

Chapter seven, “The Pattern of Illustration,” is the most interesting chapter and displays extensive reworking of the original 1994 chapter. Chapell says the “mind yearns for and needs the concrete in order to anchor the abstract” (178). He surveys the “crisis in preaching” (179) and the “currents of culture” (181) and notes that preaching must take into account the experiential nature of our age (182). “Listeners who experience concepts—even vicariously—actually learn more than those who consider words and ideas in the abstract” (185). He says, “Although the gospel is logical, it is also spiritual, visceral, and impressionistic” (185). Indeed, “illustrations that engage the whole person . . . are powerful, biblical instruments of learning and motivation” (186). The preacher who chooses not to use illustrations works most ineffectively (186). More important than human needs or a preacher’s effectiveness, however, is the simple fact that the use of illustrations comes to us with an impeccable Biblical basis. “Relating truth through illustrative narratives, parables, allegories, and images was Jesus’ method of communicating” (187). The remainder of this chapter includes excellent discussions on how to use illustrations (190-200) and concerns about the proper use of illustrations (200-207).

Chapter eight discusses application, which “fulfills the obligations of exposition” (210) and focuses “the exposition according to a text’s priorities” (212). The remainder of the chapter unpacks the nature of application, the structure of application, and difficulties attendant to application. Chapter nine is a discussion of “Introductions, Conclusions, and Transitions.” The last two chapters include “A Redemptive Approach to Preaching,” chapter ten, and “Developing Redemptive Sermons,” chapter eleven, followed by a series of Appendices. This book has many excellent features, not the least of which is the Fallen Condition Focus, and should be high on the list of those wanting a clear and thorough presentation of classical homiletics. The second edition, with its largely revised sections on narrative preaching and illustration, provides helpful correctives that will enable expository preachers to add new tools to their homiletics arsenal—if they have ears to hear, that is.