Red-Letter Days - Christianity Today

For years I have worried weekly about how to effectively shape messages from God’s Word. You know how it goes: begin with an attention-arresting anecdote, follow with scholarly exegesis peppered with witty, well-timed illustrations, and close with a heart-wrenching final story to lead toward application and call for response.

But I’ve been gradually growing in my awareness that it’s a whole lot more effective, for everyone, when the Word shapes the messenger first.

My transformation in this area has been gradual, but the realization came suddenly. It happened over dinner with our middle child, a college sophomore.

I recalled the time a New Age guru glided into our church in Merlin’s best duds.

About a month into his fall semester, I drove to his college and took him to dinner at an Italian restaurant off campus. He explained that anything tastes better when it’s prepared somewhere other than the cafeteria. As we talked he told me that he’d been assigned to give a five-minute devotional thought at choir the next day.

“Got any ideas?” he asked.

I didn’t, but to stall for time, I replied, “What are you thinking about these days?”

He replied somewhat sheepishly, “Well, I don’t know if this is devotional worthy or not, but I’ve been reading quite a bit in the New Testament lately …” (Tell me if that’s not one of the most inspiring things a dad can hear) “… and I noticed—you’re going to think this is a little silly—”

“No, no. I promise.”

“Well, you know how you look ahead a few pages to see how far you have to go to finish the chapter?” (Yes, I do.)

“When I look ahead and see a bunch of red letters on the next couple of pages, my heart starts to beat a little faster.”

(I’m with you buddy. My heart’s beating faster right now!)

“So I guess what I’ve been thinking about is that there’s something pretty cool about reading the red letters. I mean, when I’m reading the red letters, I’m actually reading the actual words that God spoke. Isn’t that a trip?”

I don’t know if he noticed that it wasn’t the red pepper in my tortellini that had just caused my eyes to water. I nodded again.

He continued, “I guess I grew up hearing the Bible all the time from you and Mom so I didn’t think that much about it, but now that I’m reading it more—for myself—I’m starting to understand that it’s a pretty powerful thing to be able to read the actual words of Jesus. I mean, that’s God talking, man!”

Yes. That’s God talking.

And in a way, through my son, that was God talking to me. Over the years, as I had been trying to carefully craft messages, God had been trying to mold me.

My son added, “It seems like when you get the red letters up there in your brain where they can operate, they seem to just show up when you really need them.”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” I said.

We have a situation

My mind wandered a bit back to when my wife and I had sat across the table from a hard working, high tithing couple in our congregation who, with folded arms and wrinkled foreheads, made it clear that if we continued to let a certain young lady (you know, the sinful type) come to church, they would have to leave.

Some of the red letters moved from the back of my brain to the front, and I knew what my response had to be.

“I’m terribly sorry that this young lady has hurt your daughter,” I said. And I meant it. Truthfully, this young lady had seriously hurt several people in the church with her words and behavior, our own eldest daughter included.

“But,” I continued, “she has demonstrated remorse and repentance. I really believe that when Jesus taught about forgiving 70 times 7 times, he meant that we believers should forgive the sinner who asks, even if it’s not the first time they’ve repented.”

I shared this through a choked voice, silently praying for reconciliation. But the couple clenched their jaws and cemented their minds. They took their tithe and left. For good.

I wish I could say that we’ve since reconciled. We haven’t. I’ve bumped into them on three or four occasions, and they remain hardened to this day. The young lady who sinned against us, the one who experienced forgiveness from some grace-giving believers, is still walking with Jesus. She’s married now and doing well. God has confirmed, through his Word and through the results of its transforming power, that forgiveness is the right choice.

Those red-letter thoughts in the brain? That was God talking.

I also thought about the time a self-appointed New Age guru glided into our church wearing an outfit that rivaled Merlin the Magician’s best duds. It was 10:55 a.m. and I was changing for a baptism when a couple of deacons popped their heads in and said, “Pastor, I think we have a situation.”

After explaining who had just entered the sanctuary, they asked, “What do you want us to do?” Underneath their question was the subtext, “Do you want us to throw him out?”

Perfect love casts out fear. That was my first thought.

“Well,” I said while buttoning my robe, “we should demonstrate that we love him and that he’s welcome here.” The second thought that came to mind: For this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.

“Tell you what,” I said, grabbing a towel, “If he’s here seeking truth, let’s let him listen. God’s Word will be proclaimed and God’s truth will be revealed. If he’s here to make trouble, we’ll know it soon enough. If that’s the case, I’ll warn him once not to disrupt the service, and I’ll politely ask him to stay afterward so we can get to know him better. If he persists in making trouble, then we’ll follow through on our promise to politely remove him. And if that happens, one of you should call the police—just in case.”

The moment I stepped into the baptistery, I looked out and saw that man and began a silent prayer for him to know that he was loved. God’s perfect love was casting out fear—in the messenger.

I found out after the service that one of our elderly members, a gentle fellow named Elmer, had seen the Merlin look-alike walking in and had whispered to his wife, “Oh, good! It looks like we’re going to have a skit today.” He and all the others in the church had smiled graciously and warmly welcomed our guest, Merlin costume and all.

That morning our congregation loved that uniquely clad man. He stayed. He listened. He didn’t cause trouble. He heard the gospel. And he even stayed after to discuss the gospel with several of us for nearly an hour.

Those thoughts that rushed into the brain back in the changing room? That was God talking.

Killing the messenger

I also recalled the time our church council had sat uncomfortably after one council member complained because our church didn’t have a program that would attract college-age single adults like her daughter. I was tired, frustrated, and (I’m ashamed to say) in that moment, carnal. I retorted in a tone that was far from gentle, “If you can provide some handy volunteers ready to lead the program, we’ll start one.”

Like a knife thrown hard, the words stabbed in my mind: Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Ugh! We had just covered that passage in Bible study. (God’s Word has an uncanny habit of being timely.)

More words followed into the conscious part of my feeble brain: Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Ouch. When God’s Word pierces, it pierces deep. Surgically deep.

After about five agonizing seconds of cheek-reddening silence, I said, “I’m so sorry. The Holy Spirit has just convicted the fire out of me. That was uncalled for. Please forgive me.”

That frustrated council member has remained one of our faithful friends for years. Those thoughts that pierced so quickly? That was God talking.

His message has continued to shape the messenger far more than the messenger has been able to shape the message. I’m not suggesting that being shaped by the Word is an excuse for poor message preparation. Not at all. In fact God has far more effectively accomplished his transformation in others’ lives when I’ve been well prepared to deliver his Word.

But I’ve also noticed that the times when the messenger exemplifies the message, outside the pulpit as well as in, it has been because the Word has been shaping the work-in-progress heart of an often inadequate messenger.

So to my son the college student, I said, “Sounds like you’ve got your devotional. You just tell the choir what you just told me. Trust me on this one. It will be well received.”

And then I added, “And son?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad your heart beats faster when you read the red letters. Really glad.”

Clark Cothern is pastor of Living Water Community Church in Ypsilanti, Michigan.