Wednesday, October 3, 2007
This book contains the mind of God, the state of man, the way of salvation, the doom of sinners, and the happiness of believers. Its doctrine is holy, its precepts are binding, its histories are true, and its decisions are immutable.
Read it to be wise, believe in it to be safe, and practice it to be holy. It contains light to direct you, food to support you, and comfort to cheer you. It is the traveler’s map, the pilgrim’s staff, the pilot’s compass, the soldier’s sword, and the Christian’s charter. Here paradise is restored, heaven opened, and the gates of hell disclosed.
Christ is its object, our good its design, and the glory of God its end. It should fill the memory, rule the heart, and guide the feet. Read it slowly, frequently, and prayerfully. It is a mine of wealth, a paradise of glory, and river of pleasure. It is given you in life, will be opened in the judgment, and be remembered forever. It involves the highest responsibility, will reward the greatest labor, and will condemn all who trifle with its sacred contents.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
He never comes out straight with it. Many a Sunday I've walked away with no idea what he said. He never puts the hay down where the goats can get it."
Yes, there are some preachers who have a lot of hay, vast amounts of exegetical information. They're theologically aware. They like to study ancient languages. They have the hay, but they don't know what the goats are talking about or thinking about. And what's worse, they don't know that they don't know the goats. Often they don't even like the goats. They would prefer not to be around goats. They forget that the first test of good teaching is not what the teacher has taught; it's what the learner has learned. They have all this wonderful hay, but they forget that they are stewards of getting hay to goats.
But there are also preachers who know the goats, and who are very clever at being able to attract lots and lots of goats. They can hold the goats' attention, but they have no hay. They have nothing of substance. It's all superficial stuff. And what's worse, they don't know that they don't have any hay.
As preachers and teachers, our job is to get the hay down where the goats can get it. That means immersing ourselves in Scripture and great writing and deep thoughts. But it also means becoming a student of the goats: learning what moves them, what their questions are, and what gives them hope.
We live in a day where we know more about the Bible than any generation that has ever lived. Translations, commentaries, and background information are abundant. Today's challenge is managing the information flow and not being overwhelmed by it. If I'm not clear on where I want the message to go, the information could manage me.There are usually multiple messages that could be preached from the same text. A friend of mine is a musician. He said in the musical trade they have a saying, "You've got to put it somewhere. If you wait till you're perfectly on pitch, you will never open your mouth to sing. So you got to put it somewhere." The same is true of preaching: you've got to put it somewhere. So decide where you intend the message to go.
Of course, prayer is a huge part of this. Ask, "God, what is it that I need to be talking about? What's at stake here?"
The answer to that question becomes the basis for your sermon introduction. In a good sermon, the introduction almost always answers this question: Why is it urgently important that we talk about what we're going to talk about? If you cannot answer this question, then you are giving the wrong message.
Research the topic. After conceiving the series and clarifying the big idea, the next step is to research the topic. Find a few good writers and spend your time reading them in depth. In my opinion, going deep with one good commentary is far better than skimming seven mediocre commentaries. It's tempting to build a vast library, but instead, look for the good stuff. Avoid the temptation to ride the information flood.
Know your goats. The other side of my research isn't textbook stuff, it's "knowing the goats." I ask, "What's everybody talking about this week?" Is there a current event that helps communicate what I want to say? What questions are people wrestling with?
When I begin the actual writing process, I think about particular people who might be in the audience: someone who just went through a break-up, someone who just got accepted at college, someone who just lost a job, someone who struggles with a sexual addiction and is scared to death someone else is going to find out.
I picture them in my mind. Everybody has a need. Never write for a faceless crowd.
Delivery begins with the writing process, because that is when you flesh out what you are going to say and how you are going to say it. When it comes to sermon writing, generally there are two problems. Some preachers love the research stage but hate the writing, and they start writing too late. Others don't like doing research, so they move way too fast to the writing part. Figure out where you fall in that range, and push yourself in the other direction.
Identify and outline your structure. I don't think there is one magic structure. The goal of preaching is to build Christ in people. Any method that does that and treats the text with integrity is acceptable. The test of a sermon is not what people remember, it's whether their life is transformed as a result.
Structure, however, is like a skeleton. Without a skeleton, the sermon lacks shape and strength. Sometimes the structure is an exoskeleton (and the structure is obvious); sometimes it's an endoskeleton (not so obvious), but it's there. The key is that the structure allows the sermon to unfold in a dynamic way.
In Homiletics: Moves and Structures, David Buttrick says the structure of a message should proceed in a series of moves, similar to people having a conversation. In a conversation between just two people, the moves can happen quite fast.
But when talking to a large group of people, you need to carefully think through how you're going to transition from one move to the next. I've discovered that if I'm having a hard time crafting a transitional sentence, it's often because I'm trying to make the wrong move, not because I'm bad at writing transition sentences.
Another key question: What requires dwelling time? If it's important, you usually need dwelling time. If it's complex, it requires dwelling time. Dwelling might involve repetition, restatement, or illustration. It might require an image or a metaphor.
If something is quite complex but needs to be unpacked, I will often use humor. Humor has a way of bringing people back with you. It gives them a little energy. Other times I'll just tell folks, "Okay, the next five minutes is going to be kind of complex, so I need you to stay with me."
Narrow your focus. What if you have something that is quite complex and requires dwelling time, but it's not the most important thing you have to say? Shrink it down to size.
This is so hard. Once you've written something, you get attached to it. This is true of every preacher. We're tempted to spend too much time on secondary material.
The same applies to stories and illustrations. What is the number one law in real estate? "Location. Location. Location." It's exactly the same in preaching. You hear somebody preaching and they tell a story. It's a fabulous story. People laugh at it. They cry at it. It works great. And you think, Oh, man, I've got to tell that story next week. But next week you tell the story, and it falls flat.
Why?
Because what worked wasn't the story. It was the story in location. "A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver." But it's an apple of gold in a setting of silver only if it's apt. The great temptation is to think the power comes from the story itself, when in reality the power comes from its context.
Use rich imagery. As I work with a text, I look for images that can become key in people's lives. One example: David hiding in the cave of Adullam.
What kind of image is a cave? A happy image or a sad image? You want to ask not only about cognitive content in a text, but about the emotional freight of the image. A cave is dark; it's sad; it's scary. You don't have to say all of that; the image does that.
David is hiding in a cave. We're all going to spend some time in a cave. But what David doesn't know is that God does some of his best work in a cave. You play that out as you preach: how David alone finds God, how God meets with him, and how David encouraged himself in the Lord. Then you shift to your audience: "Some of you are in a cave right now. It's a bankruptcy. It's a divorce. It's a whatever. What you need to know is that God does some of his best work in caves."
I also look for ways to weave together the ancient world and our world. For example, think about Samson. I live in California, and I want my audience to get a picture of what Samson was like. He was a judge. He was incredibly strong, maybe a body builder. He's a glamorous guy; women want to be with him. He becomes the political ruler. Anybody come to mind?
Californians are seeing a Samson named Arnold. All of a sudden they don't know if they're in Jerusalem or Menlo Park, because the world of the Bible and their world have been brought together.
Nail the takeoff and landing. The two most important parts of any message are the beginning and the end. Of those two, which would you say most preachers work harder at developing well? Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it's the beginning. But the sign of a really skilled preacher is a conclusion that's as well thought-out as the intro.
I think it's a chronological thing, the way our minds are wired. A preacher is so aware of what it's going to feel like at the beginning that we force ourselves to put most of our preparation there. A good introduction will create a sense of urgency in the listener. We think, Well, once I get the plane up there, I'll find a place to land it. But you can squander all the power of your message if you don't know where you're going. If you begin with the end and work backward from there, you will build to something that is going to make a difference.
For every message, make sure you work as hard on the conclusion as you do on the intro. Know where you will land the plane!
are some starting questions:
Was the exegesis accurate and on target?
Was the message logical and clear?
Did the illustrations work?
What do I want people to understand?
What do I want people to do?
What do I want people to feel?
Next, my evaluation includes a question about delivery. Do I have habits that are distracting? How were my voice and my pacing? Preacher who are gifted at this will know when the room needs energy, and they can also read how much silence the room can sustain. They use the whole range of inflection, cadence, and silence to keep attention.
Once you have people who know you well doing the evaluations, you won't necessarily need a form. I think it's good to restrict the number of people who evaluate you. Utilize a few people whom you respect and are there for you. A friend once told me that the kind of people we need are those who say (in effect), "You're not as good as you think you are, and I believe in you."
For me this sermon preparation takes at least 15 hours, and that's after years of practice. If all this sounds like a lot of work, it is. But it's worth it. For me, giving a message that doesn't connect is about the most painful thing in the world, and I cannot bear that pain. So my extensive sermon preparation and evaluation process is not a necessarily a spiritual thing; it's just pain avoidance!
But I believe that preaching is so important that we must do our best to get the hay down where the goats can get it.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
- We live like refugees, like strangers in the world, scattered throughout the earth (I Peter 1:6)
- We "suffer grief in all kinds of trials" (I Peter 1:6)
- We are falsely accused, blamed for things we never did (I Peter 2:12)
- We are subjected to brutal working conditions (I Peter 2:18-19)
- We are punished for doing good (I Peter 3:13ff)
- We are enticed to sin by those around us (I Peter 4:3)
- We are abused and insulted when we won't join the sin of others (I Peter 4:4)
- We are punished for following Jesus (I Peter 4:12)
- We are harassed and threatened by the devil himself, who want to eat us alive (I Peter 5:8ff)
- We are surrounded by false teachers trying to mislead us (2 Peter 2)
- We are mocked by neighbors who find our faith naive and deluded (2 Peter 3:3ff)
- We are disappointed with God, who seems to be slow in keeping His promises (2 Peter 3:9ff)
Peter understood, more than most, what being a Christian means and he wrote to those people to encourage them. He wrote to urge them to persevere.
ark Buchanan, author of Hidden in Plain Sight, points out that following Jesus was not a great career move. It rarely enhances reputations or brings about new opportunities. It is not known to make anyone rich, or popular, or influential. It usually has the opposite effect and turns people into oddities and outsiders, "objects of ridicule, lightning rods of suspicion, targets of abuse."
It's fairly easy to wonder why anyone would even want to be a Christian. It's much easier to quit than to endure ridicule, slander and abuse. Why stick with something that is "wrecking your life?"
And then Peter says "persevere!"
Mark Buchanan makes this observation:
The most obvious and overlooked thing about perseverance is that it only makes sense if you're heading in the right direction. If you're not, you're a fool to persist. If you are, you're a fool to quit, no matter how hard the journey. If you have found the one road that leads to life, stay the course."The Christian life can be grueling, but it is the only road to home. It is the only road with the eternal prize. It is the road to life. Choose Life!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Add to this biological tumult the unimaginably intricate and precise processes of organization that take place during this time, and the picture is breathtaking. Everything from the ability to hit a baseball to the swirl of cowlicks to the sound of a person's laugh are fixed into place. In magnitude, the change is comparable to a tsunami; in complexity, to the transformation of winter into spring. The first two weeks of life may be the most important.
But the real glory and mystery of it all is that it takes place on a scale that is microscopic. The grandest, most awesome stage of human life is, for all practical purposes, invisible.
How like God. He likes small things. Resisting the proud and giving grace to the humble, he can be found in two places: one high and lofty, the other among the lowly and contrite (James 4:6; Isa. 57:15). And since none of us can get up that high, it is wise to stay down low.
So we do the "little thing"—we pray for his kingdom to come; we don't bring it in. P.T. Forsyth said our worst sin is prayerlessness because of what it says about who we really think is in charge of the church and the universe. God save us from the people who would renew the church and bring justice in the world without praying. Having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power, they are more dangerous than the wrongs they would set right. They will replace old evils with new evils, themselves.
I know, because I've been one of those people, and can still be. It took six weeks on my back to help me see this.
In the spring of 1980 I was suffering great pain from what was diagnosed as two herniated discs in my lower back. The prescription was total bed rest. But since my bed was too soft, the treatment ended up being total floor rest. I was frustrated and humiliated. I couldn't preach, I couldn't lead meetings, I couldn't call on new prospects for the church. I couldn't do anything but pray.
Not that I immediately grasped that last fact. It took two weeks for me to get so bored that I finally asked my wife for the church directory so I could at least do something, even if it was only pray for the people of my congregation. Note: it wasn't piety but boredom and frustration that drove me to pray. But pray I did, every day for every person in my church, two or three hours a day. After a while, the time became sweet.
Toward the end of my convalescence, anticipating my return to work, I prayed, "Lord, this has been good, this praying. It's too bad I don't have time to do this when I'm working."
And God spoke to me, very clearly. He said, "Stupid (that's right, that was his very word. He said it in a kind tone of voice, though). You have the same 24 hours each day when you're weak as when you're strong. The only difference is that when you're strong you think you're in charge. When you're weak you know you aren't."
That's when I began to understand that God loves the little things, the secret things his servants do, because when we stop being lords, he can be Lord of his church. And when he is Lord, there is power, and there is fruit.
The good fruit visible in the church is planted in prayers prayed in weakness and in secret. What happens in prayer is to the spiritual realm what the first two weeks of life are to the physical.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Dwight L. Moody
A man ought to live so that everybody knows he is a Christian... and most of all, his family ought to know.
Dwight L. Moody
A rule I have had for years is: to treat the Lord Jesus Christ as a personal friend. His is not a creed, a mere doctrine, but it is He Himself we have.
Dwight L. Moody
Character is what a man is in the dark.
Dwight L. Moody
Character is what you are in the dark.
Dwight L. Moody
Church attendance is as vital to a disciple as a transfusion of rich, healthy blood to a sick man.
Dwight L. Moody
Death may be the King of terrors... but Jesus is the King of kings!
Dwight L. Moody
Faith makes all things possible... love makes all things easy.
Dwight L. Moody
Give me a man who says this one thing I do, and not those fifty things I dabble in.
Dwight L. Moody
God doesn't seek for golden vessels, and does not ask for silver ones, but He must have clean ones.
Dwight L. Moody
God never made a promise that was too good to be true.
Dwight L. Moody
I have had more trouble with myself than with any other man I have ever met!
Dwight L. Moody
I have had more trouble with myself than with any other man I've met.
Dwight L. Moody
I have had more trouble with myself than with any other man.
Dwight L. Moody
I know the Bible is inspired because it inspires me.
Dwight L. Moody
If I take care of my character, my reputation will take care of me.
Dwight L. Moody
It is a masterpiece of the devil to make us believe that children cannot understand religion. Would Christ have made a child the standard of faith if He had known that it was not capable of understanding His words?
Dwight L. Moody
Light for every darkness, life in death, the promise of our Lord's return, and the assurance of everlasting glory.
Dwight L. Moody
Never think that Jesus commanded a trifle, nor dare to trifle with anything He has commanded.
Dwight L. Moody
No man can resolve himself into Heaven.
Dwight L. Moody
Preparation for old age should begin not later than one's teens. A life which is empty of purpose until 65 will not suddenly become filled on retirement.
Dwight L. Moody
The Bible will keep you from sin, or sin will keep you from the Bible.
Dwight L. Moody
The difference between listening to a radio sermon and going to church is almost like the difference between calling your girl on the phone and spending an evening with her.
Dwight L. Moody
There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the Lord, but few of us are willing to do little things.
Dwight L. Moody
There's no better book with which to defend the Bible than the Bible itself.
Dwight L. Moody
We are told to let our light shine, and if it does, we won't need to tell anybody it does. Lighthouses don't fire cannons to call attention to their shining- they just shine.
Dwight L. Moody
We can stand affliction better than we can prosperity, for in prosperity we forget God.
Dwight L. Moody
We talk about heaven being so far away. It is within speaking distance to those who belong there. Heaven is a prepared place for a prepared people.
Dwight L. Moody
Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.
Dwight L. Moody
Where one man reads the Bible, a hundred read you and me.
Dwight L. Moody
Monday, July 30, 2007
The A-B-C's of the Gospel And The 3-R's of Salvation
The A-B-C's of the Gospel And The 3-R's of Salvation While growing up, enjoyable or not, school was a major part of our lives. Some things in this universe are true and necessary, even if not always fun. In school, certain things were essential in order to get anything out of being in school-- and eventually going on to a productive life after our years of schooling were over. Two of the most important things were the "A-B-C's" and the "3-R's." These were the foundations upon which all other things were placed. The "A-B-C's" were the phonetic teaching of the sounds of the alphabet, which gave us the information upon which we were then able to learn to read. The "3-R's" were the three basic subjects that encompassed all of what we would ever learn. Those "3-R's" were Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic. When it comes to learning what's needed to go to Heaven when we die, the same foundations apply spiritually. Salvation involves the "A-B-C" facts about the gospel of Christ, and along with those spiritual building blocks; we also need the "3-R's" of genuine salvation. The 3-R's are Realize, Repent, and Receive. Luke 24:46-47
A - Acknowledge our sinful nature and inability to save ourselves by what we can do humanly or religiously. Romans 3:10
II Corinthians 5:21
Romans 10:9-10
This emphasized Jesus as Saviour only, allowing a sinner to take what Christ has to offer, without a willingness to receive Him personally as who He really is-LORD. All salvation commands in the Bible speak of Christ as LORD. Acts 16:31
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Friday, July 27, 2007
ABC of the gospel
I ADMIT my sins to You.
I ASK for your forgiveness.
I BELIEVE Jesus died to take the punishment for my sin.
Thank You for sending Your Son to die and rise again.
I CHOOSE You to be my Forever Friend.
Amen.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Cancer Tony Snow
Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chemo-therapy, Snow joined the Bush administration in April 2006 as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23 Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, announced that the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen—leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30. CT asked Snow what spiritual lessons he has been learning through the ordeal.
Blessings arrive in unexpected packages—in my case, cancer.
Those of us with potentially fatal diseases—and there are millions in America today—find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption to declare with confidence What It All Means, Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.
The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer the why questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an answer.
I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is—a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out.
But despite this—because of it—God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.
Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.
To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into life—and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many nonbelieving hearts—an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live—fully, richly, exuberantly—no matter how their days may be numbered.
Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease—smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see—but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance and comprehension—and yet don't. By his love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise.
'You Have Been Called'Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a loved one holds your hand at the side. "It's cancer," the healer announces.
The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. "Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler." But another voice whispers: "You have been called." Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that matter—and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that occupy our "normal time."
There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived—an inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tinny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions.
The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of Paul, traipsing though the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.
There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue—for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do.
Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf.
We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us—that we acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us partway there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two people's worries and fears.
Learning How to LiveMost of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of love.
I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was a humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. "I'm going to try to beat [this cancer]," he told me several months before he died. "But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side."
His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity—filled with life and love we cannot comprehend—and that one can in the throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms.
Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do?
When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it.
It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up—to speak of us!
This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.
What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place—in the hollow of God's hand.