This past Sunday, I mentioned in my sermon about an interaction that people sometimes have with the preacher after church. The interaction is well-meaning, and folks are generally trying to tell you, “Good job preacher!” However, if we really think about the comment that is said, we may want to rephrase our praise for the preacher.
The Right Compliment from the Wrong Words?
Sometimes people will come up to the preacher after service and say something like, “I like what you said in their preacher!” What they mean is, “I found your sermon helpful” or “I was comforted by your words” or “Your message made me think about God’s truth differently.” Of course, we preachers are always glad when our messages have impact. But consider what this loosely phrased comment might communicate. The “I like what you said preacher” comment might actually belie a subtle error in our own thinking that we are the arbiter of truth. What we think about what was preached makes what was said good or bad. In other words, if I liked what the preacher said, then it was true and helpful. But if I disliked what the preacher said, then it must be off kilter in some way. I and my feelings become the makers of truth.
Truth: Objective and Outside of Me
The problem is truth just doesn’t work this way. Truth is an objective reality that exists externally to our own perceptions and feelings. How I feel about the truth (or the content of a sermon) is irrelevant to its actual truthfulness. I can dislike a truth, deny it with vehemence, or simply ignore it. But none of these responses has any bearing on whether it is actually true or not. To use Paul’s phrase in Romans 1, we can “suppress the truth a lie” but truth simply won’t die that easily (in fact it can’t die!). Truth is a pesky thing that seems to find ways to spring back up when we least expect it. That’s because truth is a feature of God’s character and it is built into the very fabric of what He has created. Truth shouts at us through creation, our own consciences, the Bible, and most preeminently in the person of Jesus Christ Himself. Jesus, as the Truth, invades our lives in such a way that, to quote S. M. Lockridge, “You can’t get Him out of your mind. You can’t get Him off of your hands. You can’t outlive Him and you can’t live without Him.”
Where is all of this going?
First, I want us all to think about careful communication and try to say what we mean as clearly as we can.
Second, I want us to think about truth rightly so that we don’t dip into the worldly error of relativism where truth is malleable and determined in the court of public opinion or in the volatile and fickle environment of our own hearts and minds.
Third, I want us to think about what we are truly after in going to church. We may not like church or what the preacher has to say, but that’s not really the point of church is it? We must not let church be about mere affirmation or happy feelings. We must not go to worship as the people of God and think that the chief goal of that gathering is so that we will all leave happy, healthy, and otherwise in good spirits. I sincerely hope that you attend church, worship, listen to the sermon, pray, and fellowship in such a way that you come away from the corporate gathering of God’s people with deep joy and encouragement. But I just as sincerely hope that you do those very same things and come away with a deep sense of humility, conviction, and awe at God’s goodness despite our badness. In fact, I think that most often, we should leave church with a mixture of these experiences because comfort comes on the heels of knowing how much danger we are actually in due to sin. Seeing the greatness of God’s love for us requires that we understand how desperately wicked we actually are. The gospel is a bad new—good news message. So transformation comes as we experience this bad news—good news dynamic each week. We hear the truth which brings conviction. Conviction leads us to needing rescue. Then we are prepared to understand the truth that God is good, kind, loving, and compassion despite our disobedience and sin. Thus, the bad news leads to hope in the good news—both for conversion and for continued life change by the grace of a good God. This is how transformation occurs and that is what we are after in the work, worship, and witness of the church.
A Preacher’s Core Responsibility
But this brings us to a final consideration. If this is the nature of truth and the foundational goal of church, what then is the core job of the preacher? Without doubt, he is to be an encourager. He is to be a defender of the truth. He is the make a case for the reasonableness of the gospel and of the faith. But at the end of it all, he is a proclaimer. His fundamental goal is not to be liked. His fundamental goal is not to entertain. His fundamental goal is not even to defend the the truth in a hostile world. God’s truth is like a lion. It will finally and ultimately defend itself.
The fundamental goal of the preacher is to be a herald of the truth unleashing it to do its work on the hearts of people. That is what I endeavor to do for Lakewood and for all who might listen to my sermons. I believe that I find myself in good company since the Prince of Preachers likewise had the same goal.
[M]y business, as I have often said in this place before, is not to prove to you the reasonableness of any truth, nor to defend any truth from its consequences; all I do here—and I mean to keep to it, is just to assert the truth, because it is in the Bible; then, if you do not like it, you must settle the quarrel with my Master, and if you think it unreasonable you must quarrel with the Bible. Let others defend Scripture and prove it to be true; they can do their work better than I could; mine is just the mere work of proclaiming. I am the messenger; I tell the Master’s message; if you do not like the message quarrel with the Bible, not with me; so long as I have Scripture on my side I will dare and defy you to do anything against me.
—C. H. Spurgeon, “Salvation of the Lord,” in The New Park Street Pulpit Sermons, vol. 3 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1857), 195.
