The Gospel of Jesus Christ

Mark 1:1–3, 14–15

The Preacher:

Since 1953, when he completed doctoral studies there, Wayne E. Ward has been Associate Professor of Theology in Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville. Born in Piggott, Arkansas, in 1921, he was licensed to preach in 1941 and ordained the following year. From 1943–46, as air navigator with the United States Air Transport Service, Lt. (j.g.), he flew hospital and air rescue planes in the Pacific Area from the West Coast through Hawaii and Guam to Japan. He holds the A.B. degree from Ouachita College and the B.D. and Th.D. from Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Fort Worth, Texas.

The Text:

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in Isaiah the prophet, “Behold, I send my messenger before my face, who shall prepare thy way; the voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight—”.…

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel.”

(RSV).

The Comment:

The homiletician nominating Dr. Ward’s sermon as representative of Southern Baptist preaching is Dr. H. C. Brown Jr., of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, whose evaluative comment appears on page 15 of this issue.

That’s what I call really preaching the Gospel!” Amid such comments and a chorus of “Amens,” a renowned preacher concluded a conference address and had taken his seat. His eloquent and forceful attack upon sin in high places and low was, doubtless, a much needed and effective indictment of wrongdoing, and was, for the most part, true to the facts. Yet, though it was received as a glowing example of gospel preaching, it never touched one tiny note of the Gospel! How can men who are “called to preach the Gospel” be so careless about what the Gospel is? Surely our time would be well spent if we went back to the “beginning of the Gospel” and learned something about it from the One who brought it to us.

One of the most beautiful words in the English language is the word “gospel.” It comes from an Anglo-Saxon root meaning “God’s story” and serves as an effective translation of the New Testament word for “good news”—the good news of the saving work of God which culminated in the cross and resurrection of Christ. From the Greek word for “gospel” we get the words “evangel” and “evangelist,” terms which denote the thrilling story of God’s redemptive love, in which he took upon himself our humanity and bore our sins on Calvary’s Cross. Many Christians refer to themselves as “evangelicals,” because they consider it their highest calling to proclaim to a lost world the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ.

Yet, as often happens, a word that is so well known is almost never really understood. Its very familiarity breeds careless ignorance of its meaning. Could anything be more unfortunate than the loss or impairment of the true meaning of the greatest news in all human history, simply because it was buried under a commonplace term? Would not this indeed violate the commandment: “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain” (Exod. 20:7)? If God’s act in Jesus Christ is the greatest event in all history, if we rightly divide our calendar in such a way as to make this the central point in time, it should be worth spending the time necessary to strip away the crust of the commonplace and seek to penetrate the inner meaning of the Christ-event. What is the Gospel by which Christians have always lived?

INCARNATION

The heart of the Gospel is found in a straw-filled manger. The Gospel is the good news that a baby was born in Bethlehem long ago. Perhaps someone is saying, “News, indeed! We have heard this all our lives; we sing about that old story every Christmas.” Yet, this is the most earth-shaking, incredible news that has ever come to the ears of men; and it is always news. Earth has certainly had one “visitor from outer space.” But we have heard it until we no longer listen to its meaning. We are so sure we know this story that we do not ask what God is trying to say to us. If once this good news could break in upon us as it did upon the shepherds, if once the angel song could come down out of the Christmas sky and strike the lost chord in our hearts, its message would overwhelm us. What does the coming of this baby mean? It means no less than this: that the living God who made this universe, who put the stars in their places, who “pushed the mountains up and hollowed the valleys out” (from “Creation” in James Weldon Johnson’s God’s Trombones), who made your life and holds it in his hand—this living God came down to earth, took upon himself human flesh, cradled by the lowly Virgin of Galilee, became bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh. Forevermore, lost humanity can hear the most glorious news which ever reached earth’s ears: Our God has come to us, to live with us, to share our human plight, to fight our tempter, to bear with us our burdens. He is not far away, a God transcendent, untouchable! He has drawn near in Jesus Christ for “God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself” (2 Cor. 5:19).

This is the most overwhelming good news lost sinners ever heard. We do not walk this rocky road alone; there are the footprints of Jesus, going on before, men of every religion, and men of no religion, are, in the depths of their being, waiting for this gospel word.

One small group of Christians will never forget the earnest young Moslem guide who displayed the glories of the Citadel of Saladin in Cairo, Egypt, and revealed a justifiable pride in the simple beauty of the ancient mosques. On every side were helpless supplicants, calling upon a God who was always far away, who could never be “touched with a feeling of their infirmities.” Allah was the unmoved, distant deity—Mohammed, his somewhat unaccountable prophet. But the young Moslem beamed, “We all seek the same God. You Christians may call him God; we call him Allah. You follow his prophet Jesus, we follow his prophet Mohammed. Does it not all come to the same thing?” But one Christian in that group could not let this pass unchallenged: “No, Abou, you have misunderstood us Christians; we do not follow Jesus simply as a prophet. We believe Allah himself came down! We believe God came to this earth as a man among men: He lived, he died, he rose again—and Jesus of Nazareth is his name!” To this devout Moslem it was blasphemy. “Allah come down?” What sacrilege! And yet this wonder-working message wrestled with his mind and heart. What a glorious, incredible thought! Because man could not climb the long road to a holy God in a far-away heaven, the God of love came down to man. In such a gracious act there was hope—even for the guilty sinner. Later that evening Abou came to say, “Yes, Professor, I have checked on you. Other Christians do believe what you said. It is surely the most wonderful thought that ever came to me. If only it could be true!”

With what soul-searching wonder this devout Moslem heard the thrilling news of the Incarnation, for the first time; with what carelessness some Christians leave this good news untold, unsung, unheard.

ATONEMENT

Furthermore, the Gospel is the good news that on the hill called Calvary, God was in Christ pouring out his life for the sins of the world. He bore our sins in his own body on the old rugged cross. How can sinful men be unmoved by such news as this? Estranged from God, rebellious in sin, men would not come in order that they might have life. But God came to men, and he who knew no sin was “made to be sin” for us. We like sheep had strayed from the fold of God, but the Good Shepherd came out into the wilderness of sin and gave his life for the sheep. At the crossroads of the world stands Calvary. It represents the highest point of man’s prideful rebellion, because God, in coming to man in righteous love, was by man rejected, beaten, and pilloried there. The Cross marks also the depth of the divine humiliation: To this unthinkable shame he would come, in the love that would not let men go. Who can stand before this Cross unmoved or feel self-righteous in this place?

When I survey the wondrous cross,

On which the Prince of Glory died;

My richest gain I count but loss

And pour contempt on all my pride!

In one of the great Southern cities, an all-Negro cast of players once enacted its own free version of “Green Pastures.” To some Christians sitting there, the careless language and the unorthodox portrayals, such as “de Lawd” with the long black “seegar” puffing smoke rings around his head, bordered on the sacrilegious. But near the last scene of the play, a bolt of heavenly light broke through. The Lord was sitting on his great white throne, high and lifted up. Before him marched a blustering angel, up and down the golden balcony of heaven; in his hands was a silver trumpet with a golden bell! Now and then, impatient Gabriel would lean far out over the golden balustrade pleading, “Lawd, let me blow this here trumpet! Look at them poor, mizzable sinners, a-fightin’, and a-killin’—Lawd, they’s in an awful shape. Let me blow one toot on this born and wind up the whole shebang.” But the Lord protested, “Hold on, Gabriel: de Lawd am thinkin.’ Do you reckon all that suffering down there might jus’ mean de Lawd himself gotta get down there an’ suffer, too?” In shocked disbelief Gabriel remonstrates, “Lawd, you suffer? Why, Lawd, you ain’t no mizzable sinner; you is the King of the whole creation.”

And then it happened! Blinding streaks of lightning flashed, and thunder rolled across the scene. Slowly darkness fell over the shuddering earth. Far in the distance “the shadow of a cross arose, upon a lonely hill.” Above the muffled roaring of a crowd and the whistling of the wind came one piercing woman’s cry: “Oh, Lawdy, look at ’em! Look at ’em nail him to dat cross!” Back to the center of the scene came one light to play upon the face of “de Lawd” upon the throne. Gone was the golden crown and, in its place—a crown of thorns! Down the agonized face came the livid streams of his own blood. His lips moved: “Yes, Gabriel, that’s jus’ what it means. It means de Lawd himself gonna suffer most of all!”

God is the greatest sufferer! God was in Christ, bearing your sins, and mine, on that old rugged cross. Did ever burdened sinners hear such news as this?

RESURRECTION

But no presentation of the Gospel would be complete without the greatest victory of all. The preaching of the early Church does not leave the Saviour on the Cross.

The supreme note of the Gospel is the glorious news that on that third morning after Calvary there was in Joseph’s garden an empty tomb! Let all heaven and earth join in this greatest song of triumph: “He is not here: He is risen!”

Every grave this world has ever seen was filled, or just about to be, with the body of a mortal—a loved one, a friend. Every pastor knows that this world is one big graveyard. As he winds his way, day by day and week by week, to the last resting place of a church member, a friend, he ponders the grim fact of suffering and death—the lot of every man, great or small. At long last, each must come to this—this grave which is so final. But the good news of Easter rings with the assurance that one grave is empty. One grave could not hold its prey! Death itself was dealt a fatal blow that Easter morning: because He lives, we shall live also. Did ever a weary and dying world hear such news as this?

The Resurrection is God’s glorious vindication of the ministry, the life and death of his Son. We know that God is truly “well-pleased” with his Son because through the Resurrection he is exalted and given the “name which is above every name.” This is the life upon which sin and death can make no claim—this is truly eternal life. Who is the man that would hesitate to give everything for such a life as this? And yet men stumble on through sin toward death—as if such news had never come. Have they never heard? Can it be that they do not understand what this news means? Are they afraid to believe it—this mind-staggering news? Do they need more proof than his insistent knock at their heart’s door, and his words “I am the way, the truth, and the life”?

Comment On The Sermon

The sermon “The Gospel of Jesus Christ” was nominated forCHRISTIANITY TODAY’SSelect Sermon Series by Dr. H. C. Brown Jr., Professor of Preaching in Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Dr. Brown’s overcomment follows:

This sermon by Dr. Wayne E. Ward is representative of Southern Baptist preaching at its best. It demonstrates a quality, tone, and spirit which Southern Baptist preachers desire to have and strive to attain.

“The Gospel of Jesus Christ” possesses deep evangelical loyalties. It is the story of a miraculous birth, a tragic Friday afternoon, a gloomy Sabbath, and a glorious Sunday morning. Certainly this theme is one of the centralities. As the late W. E. Sangster reminds us, the preacher who would have power in preaching must deal with the vital themes of our faith. This sermon does. The message will indeed “make a difference” to the one who hears. It is the “good news.”

The message has heart power. It is warm in spirit, dynamic in impact, and forceful in meaning. It meets the people’s constant demand that the minister preach with feeling, with unction, with warmth—with heart power. Although the best sermon is often flat and insipid when reduced to black marks on a barren piece of white paper, this is not true of “The Gospel of Jesus Christ.” The warmth of the written message is evident in spite of the fact that paper is usually a “poor conductor” of thought and feeling.

Moreover, this message demonstrates a reverent respect for Scripture. While not an expository sermon in the usual meaning of the term, it is a biblical sermon. Its spirit, outlook, perspective, and theme are biblical. The text and the Scriptures used for supportive and illustrative material are accurately used.

Again, this message has burning relevance to our day. The theme is theologically current and homiletically and evangelistically practical. The sermon expresses both the theological and the practical with valid intellectual coloring.

Again, this message is honest. No exaggerated claim, no false perspective, no hyper-emotional outburst, no easy plan of salvation, and no irrelevant theological discussion are made. The presentation is fair, balanced, and objective.

Finally, the message demonstrates effective homiletical style. It scores high on the three stem tests of good style: clarity, attractiveness, and force. It is well written, well illustrated, and well documented. It is a sermon, not a lecture. It has oratorical qualities appropriate for the pulpit without sacrificing didactic content and qualities. In short, it is a true sermon.

Upon first glance at the subject and major divisions, one feels: “I have read all this before.” Wait! Read on! Yes, you have heard all this before, but not exactly like this. Notice the fresh way in which the sentences are written. Notice how aptly the illustrations illuminate thought. Notice how warm is the feeling of the preacher. Notice how your heart bums “to tell” others about the Gospel—the “good news” about Jesus Christ!

H.C.B.

When a young couple moved into an old tenant house on my church field, I went to invite them to church. In answer to my knock, as little feet came running toward the door, the mother called out from the kitchen, “Jimmy, come back from that door! Don’t you touch that door!” Not often do I pray for little boys to disobey their parents, but this morning I slipped. I found myself praying, “Lord, let this boy open this door; I need to talk to these people. They need Jesus, and they need the church.” I was counting on the prayer, and a little boy’s curiosity, and, sure enough, in a flash he grabbed the door and swung it open.

“Hi, Mister,” he said, with a smile that would melt an iceberg.

“Hi, Jimmy,” I responded to his expansive greeting. “I’m the Baptist preacher at the red-brick church up the road. We want you to come with the other boys and girls and hear stories and sing songs about Jesus.”

“You’re the what?”

“I’m the preacher.” Imagine my shock when he turned around abruptly and called back to the kitchen, “Mommy, what’s a preacher? There’s one at the door.”

Mommy and Daddy never came. But five-year-old Jimmy was there almost every Sunday that fall—and always smiling. The Sunday before Christmas he did not come. Two days before Christmas, about five o’clock in the morning, the phone rang: “Hurry, preacher, to the hospital!” There I found (in the oxygen tent) Jimmy, slipping away. Before it was discovered, pneumonia had done its deadly work. And the doctor was lamenting, “If only you had brought him a little sooner.”

There was snow on the hillsides that Christmas Eve as we laid the little body to rest. When we returned to that humble home, I remember seeing the calendar behind the kitchen stove with the red letters “Dec. 25th,” mocking the box of toys in the corner—toys which Santa had already brought for a little boy who would not be there to play with them. Have you ever gone home with such hopeless sorrow as this? I knew that Christmas could not come to that home, that year. But would it ever come? I knelt on the kitchen floor and prayed about the babe of Bethlehem.

It was the month of April when, one Sunday, the father and mother came down the aisle to give their lives to the risen Lord! By their request I baptized them in a river—in a beautiful setting of trees and sparkling cold water. Their baptism witnessed to their faith in the crucified, buried, and risen Saviour. We came back to kneel by a little grave now turning green in the springtime and thanked God for the Resurrection!

This is the Gospel: a Manger, a Cross, and an Empty Tomb! God’s good news! How can we rest until we have told this glorious news to every person on earth?

Samuel M. Shoemaker is the author of a number of popular books and the gifted Rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in Pittsburgh. He is known for his effective leadership of laymen and his deeply spiritual approach to all vital issues.

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