Another installment from my journal: A New York Times editorial comments on Hardee’s new Monster Thickburger, calling it "an artery-clogging mountain of Angus beef slabs, bacon, American cheese, and mayonnaise on a buttered sesame-seed bun. … It weighs in," the editorial says, "at 1,420 calories and 107 grams of fat—quite possibly one of the most lethal pieces of food out there."
"Poor nutrition sells," the Times says. And sell it has. Apparently, Hardee’s sales have risen steadily ever since the Thickburger first came off the grill.
Just over the top of my computer monitor is a long shelf of notebooks which include most of my sermons preached over the last 25 years. Sermons preached before then are filed away in boxes. But I look at these books and wonder at their level of spiritual nutrition.Week after week people were kind enough to come to my preaching table and listen. And what were they given? I would like to think they received hope, grace, direction, encouragement, insight into the ways and means of God.
Sometimes, I was tempted to sweeten the ingredients of my sermons with stuff that sizzled like Hardee’s Thickburger—clever stories, humor, tales about things that interested me. Don't misunderstand: there's an appropriate place for such things in sermons. But one can cross a line into something that's akin to poor nutrition. Now with all the cute possibilities offered by dazzling technology, the temptation grows.
James Denny once said, "No (preacher) can both convince a crowd that he is clever and that Jesus Christ is mighty to save."
I wonder: did my listeners grow? Did they feel the stab of conviction that leads to change? Were they challenged to push themselves into new opportunities? How many to whom I have preached saw kingdom possibilities for their week in the home, at work or at school as a result? Was I able to hand them off—as did John the Baptizer—to Jesus?
I marvel at the privilege of the preacher: that people would give us 25-35 minutes of monologue time to talk about "eternalities," to serve up a meal of truth and spiritual direction. It had better be good stuff. God save us from homiletical "thickburgers."
One of my favorites, an 18th century Anglican preacher by the name of Henry Venn wrote, "When I come into the pulpit it is after study, prayers, and cries for the people; I speak as plainly, and enter into all the cares of the congregation, as minutely as I am able."
A mid-twentieth century missionary leader, Fred Mitchell, received a card from a man who regularly attended a Bible class Mitchell taught. It read:
For me 'twas not the truth you taught, To you so clear, to me so dim, But when you came just now, you brought A sense of Him.
Does the contemporary church make people who fit this kind of description? Just wondering.
And this from Bishop Wescott: "The mark of a saint is not perfection, but consecration. A saint is not a (person) without faults, but a man who has given himself without reserve to God."
Books that have kept me busy this month: Randy Frazee's Connecting Church (Zondervan), R. T. Kendall's The Thorn in the Flesh (Charisma House, 2004), Stephen Covey's The 8th Habit (Free Press, 2004), and an old biography of Harry Ironside (loaned to me) called Ordained of the Lord by E. Schuler English (Loizeaux Brothers, 1976). Admittedly, Ironside is of another age of American preaching, but he was a bright, energetic, powerful preacher of the Bible. Challenged by an avowed agnostic to a public debate on the comparison of faith and non-faith, Ironside accepted with one condition: you, he said to his challenger, must bring two people whose lives have been powerfully changed by your message, and I will bring 50 people who have been transformed by the gospel I preach. And Ironside set out to round up his 50 and was close to filling his list when his challenger cancelled the meeting. (It's a 75-year-old story, but I still get a kick out of it).
One of many highlights for me this month: Meeting a 47-year-old man who is studying theology at Gordon Conwell Seminary. He had been a major news anchor on national television in his country. He told me, "For twenty-five years I gave my country much bad news. Now I want to return and give my country good news." What a personal mission!
Back to the New York Times: A must-read—go into the archives of David Brooks' December 2004 columns and read the one about John Stott and evangelicals. I loved every word of it.
Gordon MacDonald is a pastor, author, chair of World Relief, and editor at large of Leadership.
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