Making the Familiar Fresh

As a pastor I am always thinking about what I should be preaching about. Usually I have a long list of potential sermon topics and series ideas but sometimes choosing one to work on can be a challenge. For the last month or so (and for two more weeks) I’ve been preaching a series called “The Bible’s Greatest Hits.” The idea has been to teach on passages that are very familiar to many of us within the church and known to many outside of church from one setting or another. The idea was hopefully to make the familiar fresh. This is the list of “greatest hits” I came up with:

#1: Psalm 23
#2: The Ten Commandments
#3: John 3:16
#4: The Lord’s Prayer
#5: Isaiah 40 (especially verses 27 – 31)
#6: 1 Corinthians 13

Sometimes the challenge is that we’ve heard certain Scriptures read so frequently that we lose their meaning. I think this can be the case with Psalm 23 and John 3:16. With other Scriptures the challenge is to see the passage in its context, because we can have the tendency to interpret them independent of the chapters and verses that surround them. Given that 1 Corinthians 13 is often used at weddings proves my point since this chapter falls in the middle of Paul’s discussion of congregational worship and spiritual gifts. It is not first and foremost a description of marriage love even if we can apply the truth of that passage to married life.

Last week when I talked about The Lord’s Prayer I essentially made two points: First, prayer is a privilege that comes when we place our faith in Jesus. Being able to address God as Father, or Abba, is a privilege for those who, as Paul puts it in Galatians 4, “receive adoption to sonship.” Second, prayer has a pattern according to Jesus; that is, there is an order to our praying. Or there ought to be. Since so often our prayers are dominated by health issues and immediate circumstances, it’s important to observe that biblical prayers (I have the prayers of Paul in mind here) almost always have to do with growth in Christian maturity and growing closer to God—with putting God’s glory, kingdom, and will ahead of everything else.

We can also wrongly interpret passages or miss their depth when we isolate them from their context. Isaiah 40 is a good example of this. Verse 31, the one about eagles’ wings and one often embroidered on wall hangings or engraved on other decorative items, is indeed a comforting verse. But often we miss the fact that these words are at the end of a passage insisting that despite Israel’s experience of exile God is sovereign and powerful, that he intends to redeem his people, and that God’s people are being called to trust in him and draw comfort from the fact that contrary to outward appearances God remains in control. He has not forgotten his people and will eventually use them as a witness to his character and to display his glory.

Anyway, it’s been interesting and refreshing to take a look at these popular and well-known passages of Scripture. A series like this is particularly enjoyable for me as a pastor because of the variety of texts involved. This is especially so since at Easter I finished a series on Mark’s gospel that I began last September. What I’ll preach and teach about once I’ve gone through all these “greatest hits,” I haven’t decided yet. But the wonderful thing is that there is more than enough Scripture to choose from.

The Story of My Life (Receiving the Call): Part Three

Below is the last autobiographical portion of my association license application, and rather than recount details of ministry and life I try and express my experience of call. For me sensing and being sure of a call to ministry has always been a struggle. Hopefully I make clear why.

On the subject of the “call,” I must say that I have almost never in my life felt anything as certain except the existence of God and his revelation in Christ. I almost always struggle with big decisions. And once I make a decision, there are times when I wonder if I’ve made the right one. That was true of graduate school, of marriage, of having kids, and of pastoral ministry. This is part and parcel of my personality (my wife can verify this!). But it has caused me some grief when I have felt doubt about my vocation and whether I am suited to it, often when I feel something hasn’t gone well in a ministry context. Sometimes I rub up against the limitations of my training and experience. But, truth be told, I suspect everyone at some point experiences such doubts and questions. For me, perhaps it’s just more pronounced; however, I don’t experience such feelings with the frequency I once did. My sense of call isn’t perfect but it has grown in strength and confidence over these last few years.

More than anything, I am certain that God is real and that he has ultimately and perfectly revealed himself in Jesus Christ. I might not be able to prove this, but I can proclaim it and give witness to it and pray that the Spirit does his work of convicting, encouraging, and guiding in the hearts and minds and lives of those who hear my all too human proclamation and see my all too human witness. I know that Christ is the source of my life—present and eternal—and that apart from him I can do nothing. I trust that he is the reason, the purpose, for all of creation because all things were made through him. Though pastoral ministry is a rough road to travel (in ways I hardly yet know!), I want to do whatever I can, through whatever gifts God has given me, to live according to this truth and to help others do likewise. And to me at least it seems the vocation of pastor is particularly well-suited to doing this.

The Story of My Life (or At Least Part of It!): Part Two

And it continues . . .

The first intimations that perhaps a life of ministry was beckoning came while studying at Acadia. On one occasion, when visiting my mother on the Miramichi, her priest (she was still a practicing Catholic then but is now a member at Union Street Baptist in St. Stephen) invited me over for a visit after hearing I was studying theology at Acadia. Having accepted the invitation I hadn’t anticipated that the Bishop of the diocese would also be there. After some initially awkward small-talk, I was asked the big question: Have you ever considered becoming a priest? My answer was a resounding but polite no. That sort of stopped the conversation in its tracks. In the end it felt like they were less interested in me than they were in finding someone to join their ranks. My reason for saying no at this point was that I hoped to marry someday and certainly didn’t feel a call to ministry (at least not of that sort!).

That being said, at Acadia I did for a time consider teaching in an overseas missions context. Looking back, I recall being in contact with a couple of organizations but I don’t recall why such explorations fizzled. Still, many of my classmates at Acadia were students preparing for pastoral ministry and something about hearing of their experiences, in addition to a growing sense that there was more to the Christian life than theology texts, led me to inquire about adding MDiv studies to my MA. Conversations with the dean of students at that stage made me reconsider. Since I still was “between denominations” it didn’t make a lot of sense.

During my time at McMaster I began to sense a desire to try preaching. This was especially true when a friend of mine, who had initially planned on pursuing a PhD in math and science, abandoned that direction for seminary. I had pastor friends all around me. And since I really enjoyed teaching, preaching seemed like a natural extension. And though I probably could have volunteered or asked for the opportunity and been given it by my pastor at the time, I was not someone who was forward enough to do so. In one candid moment when I mentioned to a pastor friend that the idea of pastoring and/or preaching had begun to occur to me, he said that he could see me being a pastor. Though he did say, too, that he could see me as an Anglican minister! I still don’t know what that means entirely!

I think God had to come at me through some back-doors, or at least some side-doors, to call me into ministry. For some time I had viewed what pastors do as dull. Even they seemed dull. It didn’t seem like an interesting calling at all. Studying theology, having my head in books and full of deep thoughts, was far more edifying than what I had observed of pastors and their calling. I also felt like something of an outsider in the Baptist world since so many pastors and students had grown up in it—or so it seemed to me—and had a level of familiarity with the landscape and its inhabitants that I did not.

My first actual opportunity to preach was in summer of 2002. I was living in St. Stephen with my mother until Alisha and I got married and I got a call from her pastor. He told me that he was going on vacation and was wondering if I would be willing to fill his pulpit for one of the weeks he was away. Given the fact that I had been thinking about preaching, this seemed like a gift from heaven; however, knowing what my first sermon must have been like for the congregation, I’m not sure they experienced it as the gift I did! It showed a lot of signs that I was a theology student and not yet a pastor. But I did it, and it was—despite the questionable quality of the sermon itself—a positive experience.

Since we were getting married that summer (2002) Alisha and I were also trying to find work of some sort. Blissville Baptist Church was looking for a pastor since theirs had just retired, and both Alisha and I were interviewed for pulpit supply. I can’t say whether or not the deacons of the church were accepting our resumes for a possible calling to more than supply preaching, but that is certainly all I had in mind at the time. And call us for pulpit supply they did—several times!

Shortly before Christmas 2002 they asked if we would consider a joint call to part-time ministry at their church beginning in June of 2003. After much prayer and conversation and reflection, we agreed that we felt God calling us to say yes to this ministry opportunity. Whether pastoral ministry was going to be a more permanent vocation for either of us still wasn’t certain, but I at least saw this as the chance to try the vocation on for size. It fit, it turns out, even if it took time for me to see so.

When the financial situation at Blissville made it clear to the deacons, congregation, and to us that maintaining even a part-time pastoral ministry was untenable, Alisha and I found ourselves in a place of uncertainty. We knew God had called us to Blissville but might he perhaps call us to yet another church?

That was about the time when I received a phone call from the search committee of Nerepis Baptist Church. After the initial interview both Alisha and I (though they were calling me, they also wanted her for part of the interview) had lingering doubts and questions. So we asked for a second interview and it felt like all of our doubts were addressed and our questions were answered. I accepted the call. And I am still here.

Learning to Avoid Short-hand

In high school I remember taking a course in short-hand. Beyond that, I don’t remember much. I do recall that short-hand consists of a series of odd squiggles and lines and dots that are supposed to represent different letters and words. Learning to use it was supposed to help us take notes more quickly—though I have no memory whatever of actually using what I was learning in this course. So I guess it wasn’t so helpful at all, except perhaps in keeping my GPA nice and steady.

Thinking about it now, I’m sort of glad that I have long forgotten how to use it. I also don’t have any evidence that I actually took the course, no notes filled with tests and quizzes and assignments on short-hand. And again, I’m glad. If I were to find them now, I’d have no way to read those notes shy of re-acquainting myself with short-hand. The notes would be useless to me and indecipherable to anyone else—unless they happened to be adept at this particularly arcane skill. But, honestly, unless you’re in need of some sort of code language to hide secret messages, why would you want to know how to use short-hand?

It strikes me, though, that in our world people use all kinds of short-hand, even if not of the formal sort that I once learned in high school. Being able to use a form of short-hand is basically about being able to say more with less or at least the same with less. It’s a language, a way of communicating without having to have an abundance of explanation. To that extent, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes it’s helpful to be able to make yourself understood with minimal verbiage or by using mutually understood terms and references that get the point the across between parties that already understand the terms and references.

Often organizations and groups and limited networks of people develop forms of short-hand. This is even true in churches. As Christians we use all kinds of terms and references that are a form of short-hand. (Check this post for instances of this—see what number you come up with!) For instance, we will ask a fellow Christian about a third party, “Is he born again?” or “Is she saved?” This is short-hand for asking if the person has placed their trust in God, asked him to forgive their sins and has entered into a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and has confessed him as Lord and Saviour.

As you can easily see, asking if someone is born again or saved is a lot easier than asking if they have placed their trust in God, been forgiven, has entered in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ by confessing him as Lord and Saviour! But even in the longer form of the question, there are terms and references that could be considered a form of short-hand, such as “a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.” What does that mean?

Some of the short-hand in the church is straight out of Scripture and most of it is at least biblically based. It’s a form of quickly summarizing what we believe and what we want to say around people who already have something of a grasp of the in-language. I would never suggest ridding our vocabulary of these terms or our conversation, prayers, sermons, and studies of these references. Especially when it comes to the terms that come right from the Bible, I would argue that we need to retain them. But we do need to realize that as a form of short-hand, using such terms and references thoughtlessly comes with a few difficulties and pitfalls, both for us and for those outside the church.

First, us. One pitfall about such short-hand or in-language is that when using it we often, even in churches, assume we mean the same thing by the same terms. We’ve all heard about the danger involved when we assume something (or at least I assume you have. If not, break down the word into three parts and see what the two parties become who make assumptions in conversation!).

Seriously, this probably happens more than we think. Words carry loads of meaning, even beyond their biblical intention (that is, when they are biblical terms). People bring to the words they use wads of associations and experiences that may or may not be shared with the person they’re talking with over coffee after the church service, colouring the meaning such that, were the persons to carefully define their terms, they would realize that they were not on the same wavelength at all.

I know that certain terms and references some Christians use cause a certain reaction in me, not based on what they might mean by those terms but by what I have come to associate with those terms. One of those, just as an example, is when someone refers to another Christian as anointed, meaning that said individual is specially used or gifted by God to speak or minister in an especially powerful way. Usually the term is used of leaders in the church, pastors or teachers or sometimes people who minister through music.

Now when I hear the term anointed, what it says to me has something of a Pentecostal ring to it. That is, for a preacher to be anointed his preaching, both through content and delivery, has to result in a lot of amens, tears, and even conversions. It suggests to me that the response to the sermon is immediate and emotional and direct. You know as you preach how people are responding to your preaching.

One the flipside, it suggests that preaching that is not like this, not anointed, is somehow inferior preaching. It may have been a good message, but it was not one that moved people. It wasn’t Spirit-filled even if it was Word-filled. Now there may very well be lots of sermons that have great content but perhaps aren’t very inspiring—and don’t result in emotional responses in the congregation—but I wouldn’t limit the power of a particular sermon to this understanding of anointed.

For me to associate all of this with the word anointed may or may not be right. But all I have to hear is the word—“That pastor is anointed!”—and that’s what immediately comes to my mind. And, subsequently, I wonder what such a person would make of my sermons, which hardly ever result in noticeable emotional responses. What does it say of my preaching? In my worst moments, when I hear such language, I question whether I am anointed in any sense of the word!

Another problem amongst Christians when it comes to in-language is that when we become too accustomed to such terms and easy points of reference, we run the risk of not thinking more deeply about what we’re saying, about the words and language we use. If our thinking doesn’t go deeper than the formulaic terms we use, that is a definite problem.

But we don’t only misunderstand and confuse one another with our in-language. We confuse non-believers, people who don’t have the advantage of having some familiarity with our way of using what a friend of mine used to call “Christianese.” People who aren’t believers also bring a bunch of baggage to some of the terms and references we use—just think of what more liberal Americans think when they hear the terms “evangelical” or “born-again Christian.” They hear things, in some cases, that we don’t want them to hear.

For someone to use churchy-talk with a non-Christian is just as problematic as me using academic theological language with other believers. So, for instance, while some might know that soteriology is the study of the Christian doctrine of salvation, many if not most Christians would not—but they don’t really need to since to understand salvation knowing such a specialized academic term is unnecessary.

To that extent, I would not use a word like soteriology in everyday conversation and if I ever did use it in a Bible study or sermon, I would carefully define it so people would understand—never use such language simply to impress people, to let them know that you know what it means even if they don’t. The problem, though, is that we don’t have to use a word like this to confuse or mislead someone outside the faith—just saying so and so is “saved” might be enough. Depending on the person, what we say might be no more decipherable than those short-hand squiggles and lines I learned in high school!

This kind of thing occurs to me when I’m preaching or leading my congregation in prayer—because I can sometimes catch myself using words and phrases that are essentially short-cuts, especially when in the moment no other words or phrases come to mind! So I’m guilty of this too!

But if instead we intentionally steer away from using short-hand in-language or at least become more accustomed to articulating our beliefs using language the person on the street can grasp, not only will we be better communicators to those around us who aren’t Christians but we will also be challenged to think more deliberately about the faith we profess. It does us good also.

We should—once in awhile—stop and think about how we express our faith to those around us. We should consider our words, and understand that our words matter. Because if our goal—or one of our goals—is to proclaim our faith, to communicate it clearly, and articulate it in ways that people can understand, then we should make the effort to ensure that people’s first-hand experience of our faith is not our short-hand.

God's talking; are we listening?

Well tomorrow our VBS starts (Vacation Bible School for those uninitiated!). And on Wednesday my wife and I head off to Convention Assembly (now called Oasis). After this, on Saturday evening (also our 6th anniversary), we begin officially our two weeks of vacation which, wonderfully, encompasses three Sundays. The break will be very nice.

I'm going to try to do some more intentional listening to God over these next few weeks. Let's just say that I need some refreshing before a new season of ministry begins in the fall. I'm considering preaching through the Gospel of Mark when I come back. I did this with the Gospel of John a couple of years ago, and I think that going through the life and ministry of Jesus is incredibly valuable and has the effect (or can and should have the effect) of renewing our focus on he who ought to be the focus of all we do and are. It's easy to get sidetracked both in life and in ministry with peripheral matters. But whether this is what I make my preaching about post-vacation is going to be one of the things I'm praying about.

I know there are a couple of other pastors who occasionally drop by this blog, so let me ask you a question: how do you experience God's leading in relation to preaching? How do you seek his leading? What makes it easiest to discern his leading?

And for those of you who aren't pastors, really the same questions could almost apply. I preached today about listening to God -- and specifically focused on the need for stopping long enough to listen; that is, taking sabbath time, whether a full day or not, that involves you, your Bible, and even a pen and journal as a way of engaging and being engaged with God. What makes it easiest for you to discern his voice? I'd especially be interested in the viewpoint of those who aren't pastors on the value and role of listening to sermons in all of this. Do sermons regularly make it easier for you to discern God's leading in your life or do you find that you hear God more clearly through your quiet time? As a pastor, I can sometimes wonder whether what I bring to the pulpit hits or misses and why or why not.

My hope and prayer is that over the next few weeks my ears will become more and more open -- and that I can still my heart and mind long enough to listen! This is definitely something I need to do a lot of before I can do any more talking once I return to the pulpit in September.

Back in the Pew

Something that I really miss is being able to listen to other people preach. As a pastor, it's an incredible treat and privilege to hear sermons delivered by anyone other than me. For years listening to good biblical messages was what I enjoyed most about going to church. I can still recall what it was like to hear for the first time a Baptist pastor preach (I was raised Catholic) and how amazed I was at the time and care they had obviously put into their message. As a former Catholic, I was more accustomed to homilies or brief sermonettes that rarely delved deeply into the biblical text. The message itself may very well have been biblical, but I never came away with a better understand of a specific text.

This coming Sunday is my last until mid-September. For three Sundays in a row I'm on vacation; and it's often when I'm on vacation that I get the chance to hear other pastors' sermons. I am truly looking forward to it.

These days, of course, going to church isn't the only way to hear sermons. You can listen to (and see) plenty of sermons online. This past week, partly through the initial prompting of my mother-in-law, I listened to some online sermons; and I was blessed, for the most part, by what I heard. While most folks only hear one, maybe two, sermons a week, I found myself listening to several. Probably around 5 or 6. Amos 8 speaks of a "a famine . . . of hearing the words of the Lord," and while this is not what he meant, I realized this week in hearing some good messages how much I had missed being back in the pew. I realized my own hunger and need for hearing the word of God proclaimed. No wonder I listened to so many!

And it made me realize that, though I am very blessed to be a pastor, there is a genuine sense at times that I miss being back in the pew. In being a pastor, it's not at all as though I have graduated or progressed past my own need for edification; I just need to seek it through avenues other than Sunday morning worship. Although now I have to be more deliberate in seeking out ways of getting fed by the word of God.

What's funny, too, is that I can easily forget what it is like to be at the receiving end of a sermon. I can find myself convicted as well as fed, admonished as well as quenched. Some messages simply remind you of simple but crucial truths. Others point you more fully to the holiness of God. Still others challenge you to follow Jesus and to walk with him more faithfully.

And listening to other pastors' sermons challenges me in another way, also; that is, they challenge me to listen as if I were back in the pew and not another pastor. So often when I do listen to another sermon, it can be far too easy to slip into professional critique mode. In other words, I begin thinking about how good the sermon is, how effective the illustrations are, how organized the points are, etc. And I may even find myself thinking, "Hmmm, that was well done. I can apply that to my own preaching." Nothing wrong with this perhaps, but better that I listen with my heart and mind. Better that I listen for what God wants me to hear.

Then I am challenged to be more reflective at times about my own preaching. Because there are times that watching other pastors preach makes you think about your own preaching habits, your own mannerisms, style, themes that perhaps you continue to use, etc. It makes me think: what are people hearing when I preach?

All in all, hearing other pastors preach is an incredibly valuable experience on many levels. Of course, thinking about all of this brings to mind one of the things that makes me as a pastor very nervous at times -- when another preacher is visiting our church and I'm the one preaching! Because then I know that just as I watch other preachers with a critical and evaluative eye, so they must be watching me. That can induce a little holy fear! I can only hope that those preachers, in finding themselves back in the pew, listen to me and hear not only my flaws and mistakes but also God's word proclaimed faithfully. I can't ask for much more!

Preaching Through a Series: Part 3

Here's the sermon I preached today. It's the third in my series on the eight quality characteristics from NCD -- inspiring worship -- though I sort of talk more about the purpose of worship. Hope it feeds you heart and mind.

“The Why of Worship”
1 Chronicles 16:23 – 34; 1 Corinthians 14:26 – 33

Introduction—Why worship?

Ella’s now at the point—that favourite stage for all parents!—where it seems one of her favourite questions is, “Why?” And sometime she’ll ask that question, but I won’t know how to answer! So, like the good daddy that I am, I resort to that ol’ standby, “Because!” Well, that’s not a very good answer. As I found out from Alisha and her Mum, “Because is not the why of something!”

And we all ask that question sometimes—“Why?” But usually we’re more specific. For instance, we’ll be somewhere and ask ourselves, “Why am I here?” Have you ever been in a church service and asked, “Why am I here?” Now if you asked yourself that this morning, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know!

We’re told in Hebrews 10:25 not to give up meeting together for corporate worship. But why do we worship? Why are we here today? No doubt if anyone asks us why we go to church, we’ll say, “To worship.” This just begs the question. And we can’t just say, “Because,” because “because is not the why of something.”

I once heard worship described this way: Worship is our response to what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. But how do we respond to what God has done for us in Jesus? One of the eight quality characteristics of Natural Church Development is an “inspiring worship service.” In using the word “inspiring” to describe the kind of worship service a healthy church has, it’s saying that the worship service is an enjoyable experience for people. But as I was thinking about this, I began to ask myself, what is the purpose of worship? Why do we get together to sing songs, listen to sermons, and pray? So we’re going to talk about “the why of worship” this morning. I have three “why we worship” reasons: to glorify God; to edify one another; and to reach out to others.

To Glorify God

Whenever someone we know does something well or something right one of the things we try and do is praise her or him. That is, we take time to recognize his or her accomplishment or achievement. Sometimes we even applaud—we literally clap!—to show our appreciation for what she or he has done. We’ve done this with Ella. We often do this if someone sings a song in church. And I’m sure that we’ve all done this with our kids, grand-kids or great grand-kids or someone else when they’ve deserved it.

Such praise is healthy and good and expresses our appreciation or enjoyment of what someone else has done. This is like telling a waitress, “My compliments to the chef for the wonderful meal!” We can hardly have fully enjoyed and appreciated who God is and what God has done until we praise him—until we glorify him through our worship. And indeed the first purpose of worship is to glorify God.

In the Westminster Larger Catechism, which was written in the 17th century, the very first question asked is this: “What is the chief end of man?” In other words, what is our first and most important purpose for being here? What ought to be our highest goal and deepest aspiration? The answer the Catechism gives is this: “Man’s chief and highest end is to glorify God, and fully to enjoy him forever.”

Our passage from 1 Chronicles 16 tells us the same thing: “Sing to the Lord . . . Declare his glory among the nations . . . For great is the Lord and greatly to be praised . . . Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name . . . Worship the Lord in holy splendor.” This is why we sing—to focus our attention on God by praising who he is and what he has done. There are lots of other biblical passages that call us to worship God, to praise him, to glorify him in song. The apostle Paul also tells the Ephesians to “make music from your heart to the Lord.”

Marva Dawn, in her book on worship A Royal “Waste” of Time, says “the entire reason for our worship is that God deserves it.” But he doesn’t need it. When I praise Ella for something she’s done right or well, this will help her grow in confidence; it will make her feel better about herself. That’s not why we praise God. We do so because he deserves it. With all that he’s done for us—and because of who he is—he is worthy of our praise.

Praising him also focuses our attention on him. This gets our minds off ourselves. When we come here on a Sunday morning, we come loaded down with our cares, concerns, distractions, our real and felt needs, our hopes and expectations of the worship service and one another. Focusing on God gets us back on track by helping us realize that God is bigger than all our problems.

Focusing on God by praising and worshipping him also gets our minds off other people in the church for a moment—I’m not here to be distracted why this person or that person irritates me. Have you ever been distracted by someone else during a worship service?

I heard a story about the Italian poet Dante Alighieri. Deeply immersed in meditation during a church service, he failed to kneel at the appropriate moment. Remember, this was a Catholic Mass, which involves more standing and kneeling and sitting than we are used to! Well, when they saw this, his enemies hurried to the bishop and demanded that Dante be punished for his sacrilege. Dante defended himself by saying, “If those who accuse me had had their eyes and minds on God, as I had, they too would have failed to notice events around them, and they most certainly would not have noticed what I was doing.”

Worship, first and foremost, is about having our eyes and minds on God. And so we come to worship God—to praise and glorify him—to remind ourselves that worship—our gathering together on a Sunday morning as a congregation—is not about us; it’s about him. Sometimes, but not always, we think and act more like Dante’s enemies than Dante. Worship helps correct that tendency.

So when I deliberately follow Scripture’s commands to “sing to the Lord,” “ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name,” and “worship the Lord in holy splendor,” I am fulfilling the Lord’s command and the purpose for which he has made me: To glorify him and fully to enjoy him forever; for to glorify God is the first and most important purpose of worship.

To think about this practically, perhaps we can ask ourselves the following question: When coming into a worship service, do you ever feel prepared to worship or are you usually distracted? Distractions can be good or bad—a bad situation at home or a good conversation with a fellow church-goer can both equally distract. Preparing for worship is a part of worship. How can we prepare ourselves to worship? Perhaps a few moments of prayer and quiet. Perhaps listening to Christian music before the service begins. It is important to prepare ourselves if possible because in preparing ourselves we are also reminding ourselves that God comes first and not us.

To Edify One Another

One of the things I love is when we have a church service where a bunch of people are participating—someone is reading Scripture, someone is doing the children’s story, someone sings a special song, someone offers a testimony to what God has been doing in their life. So while I know that there is a certain—but flexible!—time constraint on a Sunday morning service, my general policy is “the more the merrier”!

And biblically speaking “the more the merrier” principle also applies. The very first verse of our passage from 1 Corinthians says this: “What should be done then, my friends? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation.”

Someone told me about a conversation they once had. This person happened to comment to a friend that they thought the pastor should have to preach on Sunday morning and nothing else, that other members of the congregation should jointly cover whatever else a worship service involves. Someone else should pray. Someone else should lead in worship. Someone else should do the children’s story. Their friend disagreed and suggested that the pastor should do everything on a Sunday morning—that is, after all, why he is being paid! The other person, surprised at this, asked their friend, “What do you want from your pastor?” And their friend replied, “I want his blood!”

But this isn’t the biblical picture. Like Paul says, “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation . . .” Paul’s assumption is that several people participate in a worship service. Paul assumes the “more the merrier principle.”

Why is this important? Paul also says, “Let all things be done for building up.” The idea of building up means to edify—this means to encourage and strengthen others in their faith. This is the second purpose of worship: To edify one another. We all know this from experience that a worship service with more people participating, whatever gifts they bring, is always a more enjoyable experience than a service where only a few are involved. This is how a church is built, not out of wood, concrete, and glass, but out of people worshipping God and edifying one another. And “the more the merrier!”

Maybe there is some way you can encourage someone else in the church today. Maybe you have a talent or a gift that you think would strengthen the faith of those around you. Or perhaps you can think of something we can add to the worship service that would make it more edifying to others, something that would make coming together more enjoyable. If so, let me know! The more the merrier because when we edify one another, we become stronger Christians, a stronger church, and God is glorified.

To Reach Out to Others

When I was going to Acadia Divinity College, I found out that it didn’t always have the greatest reputation with the rest of the campus. It was sometimes perceived as this closed-off, out of the way building at the top of the campus. There was often very little engagement or interaction between students at the college and the students of the university. To some extent, this does make some sense, since there was no overlap in classes and many students at the college also have family and church responsibilities in addition to studies. But the college still ended up getting labelled by some “the holy huddle up the hill.”

The last thing any Christian community should be is a “holy huddle on a hill.” Instead, Jesus calls us to be a lamp on a lamp-stand, a city on a hill, and the light of the world in whatever town, city, village, of local service district we find ourselves in. The very presence of a church ought to make a difference to a community. If it doesn’t, something is wrong. If a church can close and lock its doors without most of the community noticing, much less caring, something has gone wrong. Such a church has become a “holy huddle.”

I said earlier that the Westminster Catechism’s description of our ultimate purpose is “To glorify God and fully to enjoy him forever.” Put simply, we are all created to worship. But not everyone worships God. What do we to do about this? Do we remain in our “holy huddle” edifying one another? If we do this, is it still possible for us and our worship to honour and glorify God?

If the first purpose of worship is to glorify God, and the second is to edify one another, then the third is to reach out to others. I want to suggest this morning that an important fruit of our worship is evangelism. But we often hear the word “evangelism” and are intimidated. I know that I can feel this way. Believe me, not all pastors naturally share their faith in Jesus in casual conversation! But even if none of us here is an evangelist, we are still called, according to 2 Timothy 4:5, to do the work of evangelism, the work of reaching others with the love of Jesus.

But how do we reach out? This is why Natural Church Development talks about need-oriented evangelism—reaching out to our community in ways that serve the people in our neighbourhood. So rather than think of terms like “evangelism” and “witnessing,” think instead of someone who runs a repair shop for bicycles out of the church; think of a church that restores a run-down playground and ballpark for use by all the community; or think of a church that welcomes people who have just moved into the community with a welcome basket or a fresh-baked pie. Such things open the doors of the church to the wider community and opens us up to relationships with people in the community. These are some ways any church can get out of its “holy huddle” and show others the love of God. And these are things that those who of us who are shy about verbally sharing our faith can do.

And of course when we reach out to others, our motivation ought to be to lead others to worship and glorify God. Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount, “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Worship should lead to our reaching out to others and reaching out to others hopefully leads to more worship!

Conclusion

I said at the start that I once heard worship described as our response to what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. So if we ever wonder why we worship, I think that gives us a good start. These words from Titus 3:3 – 7 give us a really good head-start too:

“At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.”

You know, Titus is not one of those books we talk about very much, but that passage gives us as good a description of our salvation in Christ as any other. And while nothing in these verses describe or define worship per se, the passage does give us the reason why we worship at all. It reinforces that definition of worship I mentioned: Worship is our response to God has done for us in Jesus Christ.

And our worshipful response happens when we take time to glorify God together through our praise and our thanksgiving, making melody with our hearts; when we edify one another, helping fellow believers grow in faith; and when we reach out to others, move out of our “holy huddle” so that others may be touched by the love of God and join with us in glorifying him; that we might, just as in Revelation all the angels of heaven do, fall down on our faces before the throne and worship God, saying, “Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God forever and ever. Amen!” As our hymn says, “To God be the glory!” Amen?

Thinking About Prayer: Part 4

This is the fourth installment of what has turned out to be an occasional series of reflections on prayer. Hence the title. With the first post, I hadn't intended it to be so. But prayer is one of those topics that has interested me for a long time. And so it's no surprise that I return to it time and again. In fact, my MA thesis is on prayer; specifically, on the Lord's Prayer and theologian Karl Barth's understanding of it.

Especially during the years when I was studying for my MA, I read a fair bit of Barth, a habit that has waned in more recent years. His approach to theology -- particularly his doctrine of revelation and his doctrine of the Trinity -- had already piqued my interest during my BA years and so when my systematics professor pointed out that Barth was the only major 20th century Protestant theologian to give significant attention to prayer I decided he ought to be the subject of my thesis.

One of Barth's works that nurtured both my interest in his theology and in the relationship between theology and prayer was a little book of lectures called Evangelical Theology: An Introduction. In this book Barth reflects on the task of the theologian and of theology, and in a section on the work of theology he puts prayer at the front. Today during my own prayer and devotional time, I decided to read this chapter on prayer and I found lots of wonderful food for thought, for mind and for heart.

Beginning this chapter on prayer, Barth says that

"The first and most basic act of theological work is prayer . . . [and that] theological work does not merely begin with prayer and is not merely accompanied by it; in its totality it is peculiar and characteristic of theology that it can only be performed in the act of prayer."

And as I was reading this I found myself inserting preacher or pastor when he wrote theologian and inserting preaching whenever he talked about doing theology. It was a perfect fit, of course. What he says is true of theologians and their work is also true of pastors and their work. Barth says this himself when he comments that theological work "must have the character of an offering" to God and that such theological work includes

"the tiniest problem of exegesis or dogmatics, or the clarification of the most modest fragment of the history of the Church of Jesus Christ, but, above all, if it is the preparation of a sermon, lesson, or Bible study."

I also like the fact that Barth designates preaching as theological work.

Even when you're a pastor it's not difficult to forego prayer for more busy-work. Pressure to get things done, including our sermons, lead us to neglect prayer. What ought to be the fruit of a life of prayer ends up replacing prayer in our daily routines. Sometimes I think that this is because prayer seems less useful than actually typing sermons or preparing a Bible study. And sometimes I think that this is because prayer is actually harder than preparing a sermon or Bible study. But robbing my sermons of prayer is robbing my preaching of not only its heart but its power. That is, preaching without prayer is tantamount to depending on the power of my very human words rather than depending on God's Spirit.

Knowing this, Barth writes,

"For in prayer a man temporarily turns away from his own efforts. This move is necessary precisely for the sake of the duration and continuation of his own work. Every prayer has its beginning when a man puts himself (together with his best and most accomplished work) out of the picture. He leaves himself and his work behind in order once again to recollect that he stands before God."

Great stuff. I know that I need this sort of reminding regularly. I also love this:

"A man prays, not in order to sacrifice his work or even to neglect it, but in order that may not remain or become unfruitful work, so that he may do it under the illumination and, consequently, under the rule and blessing of God."

I'm not sure if this is what Barth is getting at, but sometimes we can neglect prayer because we don't want to sacrifice our real work. We don't want to neglect what we think is more important or what may be more utilitarian concerns. No wonder Barth describes prayer as the first part of theological work. Placing it under the rubric of theological work is Barth's attempt to re-orient our thinking of what prayer actually is and how theological work -- preaching, teaching, and, indeed, the whole of the Christian life -- is theological work, properly speaking, insofar as it is the fruit of the fellowship we have with God through Jesus Christ. Put simply, a sermon is a genuine sermon only if it is borne of time spent in prayer in the presence of the God the sermon attempts to proclaim. And when this happens, when a sermon emerges from such holy communion, the sermon itself, the very act of preaching itself, is prayer-full.

So this morning, when I began to think about finishing my sermon, I stopped short of jumping right in to work on the manuscript itself. I wrote much of my sermon on Tuesday, and, technically, there is not a whole lot left to do; that is, if one just considers the outline, the points, the attempt to draw out practical application, and the illustrations, all that remains is an introduction and a conclusion, some of which I already have in note-form. Yet instead of running ahead and writing I sat and read Barth which reminded me of the importance of prayer in preaching, in ministry, and, truthfully, in life. I was convicted, too, because sometimes my attention to prayer is sporadic and inconsistent. Dare I admit this as a pastor? Either way, I am thankful that Barth reminded me that there is a great deal more to preaching, as well as theology, than a series of well-constructed sentences, paragraphs, and points. He reminded me of other things as well in this profound chapter on prayer, but rather than ramble on any more I think I'll actually spend some time following his advice: ora et labora!

Preaching Through a Series: Part 2

I'm gradually working through a sermon series that is based on the Natural Church Development eight quality characteristics. You can see part 1 of this post here. And here is that list of characteristics again:

1. Gift-oriented ministry (already done: "Being Gifts")
2. Loving Relationships (already done: "The Gift of Love")
3. Inspiring Worship (this week: "The Why of Worship")
4. Passionate Spirituality
5. Holistic Small Groups
6. Empowering Leadership
7. Effective Structures
8. Need-oriented Evangelism

As you can see, with the third message I've deviated already from the "gift" metaphor. No big deal. The real point is to work through the topics. I sort of wish now that I had introduced the series more deliberately from the start. Instead, I just began it without letting people know that I was beginning a series. This was because I wasn't completely sure whether I was beginning a series. I was trying out the topics tentatively. So this week I think I need to be more vocal about what I'm doing. Also, this week I had a meeting with my deacons and our regional pastor about the NCD survey we did. It was an excellent experience going over the results of the survey together. While one never knows the future, it feels like we're just at the cusp of being more intentional and creative with ministry at our church. Having been presented with the result of the survey, we are in the position of a patient who's just gotten a diagnosis from a doctor. What we do with the doctor's information is up to us.

One thing this has made me think about is that I really want to be here at this church for as long as the Lord wills. I even feel that as a pastor that I am still very much learning how to pastor and lead. Having the opportunity to lead a church through this process, and anticipating how people will be encouraged by increasing health and growth, is enough to make me want to see this through the long-haul. Of course, that's not enough to keep me here. The call to ministry does that. Only the knowledge that God has placed me in this church provides the incentive to continue. Because there are, no doubt, going to be times -- or at least days -- when ministry will not be enjoyable or fun but difficult and even discouraging. And on those days it won't be the hope that God will bring more encouraging moments and times that gets me through but confidence that God has more in mind for our church and for our community.

Preaching Through a Series

Our church is using some resources from Natural Church Development. We recently did a survey which gives us a good indication of relative strengths and weaknesses (or as NCD calls them, minimal and maximum factors). Working through the results of that survey ought to, in principle, enable us to increase the health of our church, and church health is measured through eight categories or what NCD calls the eight quality characteristics. Part of my role in this process is to preach a series based on these characteristics. And I have already begun doing do, though without making a big deal that this is a series. Over the next several weeks I'll work through them all.

Thus far I have prepared three related messages: "God the Giver," "Being Gifts," and "The Gift of Love" (which I preach this Sunday). It was only partway through the process of preparing "Being Gifts" that it occurred to me that this could be the beginning of the NCD series. And as you can see, another theme ties all these messages (so far!) together: that of gifts and giving.

As a pastor, I love when I can carry a theme through several messages or when a group of sermons have something of a symmetry about them. Whether I can do this through all the NCD sermons, I have no idea. It seems unlikely, but I'll probably make some effort at seeing it happen. There will be some topics in the series that simply will not relate to the idea of gifts and giving. Here are the characteristics on which the messages will be based:

1. Gift-oriented ministry (already done: "Being Gifts")
2. Loving Relationships (this week: "The Gift of Love")
3. Holistic Small Groups
4. Passionate Spirituality
5. Inspiring Worship
6. Empowering Leadership
7. Functional Structures
8. Need-oriented Evangelism

So these are the themes. And I don't know how I will approach them all yet. A couple of them I may combine (Empowering Leadership and Functional Structures). And I might, I just might, see if if I can use the gift theme throughout. But I don't want it to be forced. Already I have a couple of ideas for the sermon on holistic small groups, and neither have to do with the gift theme. So there you go. One is "Size Matters." Just a way of pointing out the importance of having a small group and how the number of people we've gathered with affects our ability to be ourselves, be open to prayer, etc. I'm thinking of following up this week's message on loving relationships with this one. Though that title idea may be too tongue-in-cheek. Another possible title is "We Are Not Alone."

I'm nearly done my sermon for this Sunday. I probably could have finished it yesterday, but some circumstances got in the way. I'll be on daddy duty tonight while my wife is out for the evening so it has to be finished either before I bring my daughter home or after she goes to bed. Once that sermon is done, I'll post it here, especially since I've already posted my two previous and related sermons here. Of course, doing this is likely making it possible for someone else to steal my sermons and pass them off as their own. I suppose, however, if they do so it ultimately hurts them and their congregations more than me.

Hey pastors out there--do you typically preach in a series or do you preach stand alone sermons? Do you have a preference? And do you take particular care in titling your messages or in making all your points alliterative? Maybe in doing those last couple of things I am a little crazy.

The silliness of preaching?

I was just sitting here working on my sermon for Sunday, and a thought occurred to me. It's not the first time such a thought has occurred to me either. That thought is this: isn't there something particularly silly or odd about preaching?

In no other setting can I imagine a group of people willingly (more or less!) listening to me talk about something, anything, for anywhere between 20 -- 30 minutes. There are other settings when in the middle of a conversation I find it hard to get a word in edgewise. And there are definitely times when I feel distinctly unheard by those around me. But here, for that brief time on Sunday mornings, people sit respectfully, quietly, attentively (this last one is harder to measure!) while I share what I have learned from God's word. Where else could this happen?

I was reading recently David Murrow's book, Why Men Hate Going to Church, and one of the things he said resonated a little bit. He questioned the whole standard format of the sermon as a 20 -- 30 minute lecture-style presentation of biblical truth, asking why it is that this form dominates when there is evidence to suggest that it's not the most effective means of communicating truth. Murrow argues that this is especially true for men, that men do not generally respond well to this style of presentation.

I said this resonated with me somewhat. I guess this is because sometimes when preaching I can feel this enormous gap between myself (when at the pulpit) and the congregation. Or perhaps it's better to say that I can sense a barrier. I feel set apart in a way that makes me uncomfortable and that seems to create a performer-audience dynamic. I'm on the platform, they're in the chairs, and there is this uncrossable space in between.

Preaching, however defined and executed, should ideally be done in such a way as to eliminate this barrier and bridge this gap as much as possible. All I know is that I want there to be a connection between myself and the congregation. Lots of things factor into this from style of preaching to the physical layout of the sanctuary, but if I'm going to have their attention for that amount of time I want it to be as personal an experience as possible. I guess you might say that I want my style of preaching to exemplify as much as possible the fact that faith is personal, relational, and livable. Not that I always, or even often, get there but it's something I want to grow toward.

How I preach and what I preach ought to be related. This is so because as silly as preaching may seem in some ways, it's an invaluable opportunity, an enormous privilege, and a humbling responsibility. While Christ's choosing us to bear his message may have a ring of ridiculousness about it (considering who we are), there is nothing ridiculous or silly about the message itself (considering who Christ is).

So, to return to my original thought and question: isn't there something particularly silly or odd about preaching? Yes. And the silliness, foolishness, and oddity of preaching really points to the heart of the message in a way: that God chooses and wills to redeem us, foolish and sinful and wicked as we are, and that he then chooses to use us to carry that same message to others. There's something silly about me preaching because it's me preaching.

Me.

The only thing that qualifies me for preaching is God's call and will to use me. Who am I to tell others to repent when the need for repentance still clings to me like dirt? Who am I to exhort others to live lives of love when I still put myself first in countless ways each day? Who am I to explain the truth of Christ to others when my grasp of it remains so feeble and incomplete? That I am called to preach points to the heart of the gospel. That any human being is called to preach points to the heart of the gospel. And this is why the power of preaching lies not in human words, speaking techniques, or communication skills (good and useful as all these are), but rather in the power of God himself, in his Spirit, to take whatever silly and weak words I have strung together into sentences, paragraphs, points, and punchlines, and use them to change hearts, minds, and lives. In other words, nothing is impossible with God. Even so, Sarah laughed. Sometimes we do too.

A Recent Sermon

This is not just a recent sermon but the last one I preached before getting the flu. It began, strangely, as a sermon about giving. I was going to look at 2 Corinthians 8, 9 where Paul is encouraging the church to make good on their promise to help the Christians in Jerusalem. But as I was working on it, I realized that it was important to provide some foundation for our giving; namely, I realized that we had to look at what it means to call God a giver first. Admittedly, I was also inspired by a book I've been reading by Miroslav Volf called Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace.

The follow-up sermon I will hopefully finish for next Sunday is called "Being Gifts." And though it looks at how we give, it is not at all about financial giving. It's going to look at spiritual gifts and the importance of these gifts for the life of a church community and how using our gifts, whatever they may be, are the most important way we can give ourselves to Christ and his people.

Anyway, below is the sermon on God as giver. I hope it gives both your heart and mind some food for thought.

“God the Giver”
Matthew 6:25 – 34; James 1:17, 18

Introduction—it is blessed to receive!

On the first Christmas my wife and I were together we were just recently engaged, and I spent a lot of time over the holidays with her family. It was also the first Christmas in a long time that I almost felt like a kid again. You see, she must have told her parents all about my interests and likes because many of the gifts they got me were things I actually asked for and those that weren’t were still very thoughtful and personal. I still use those homemade pillow cases! I was truly astonished and overwhelmed by their generosity.

We’re told by Jesus that it is more “blessed to give than to receive,” and I think this is true; but, I tell you, that Christmas I felt pretty blessed by what I received! And I know, we’re taught to think that as Christians we should enjoy giving more than receiving, but am I the only one here who feels blessed to receive gifts? How many people here love to get gifts? You can be honest, because your pastor is putting his hand up too!

And no matter how generous anyone else is to us—family or friends—no one is as generous to us as God is. So this morning we’re going to look at what it means to call God a giver; and not only a giver but the giver. That God is the ultimate giver means the first thing we need to be are good receivers. Today we’re going to ask what God gives, how God gives, and why God gives. And hopefully as we do so we will be even more surprised by God’s generosity, experience even more humility and gratitude in the face of it, and be moved to become even better receivers as a result of it.

What God Gives—Surprised by Generosity

Now I can think of at least a few occasions when not only has our daughter referred to something as “mine” but when she did so because another child wanted to play with that particular toy. Lots of kids do this. Another child visits, goes to play with a toy that belongs to the child they’re visiting, and that child snatches the toy back and says, with some indignation, “Mine!”

And it’s not only children that are possessive about their belongings. We adults can be that way too. We might not snatch back our “toy” but we might find ourselves wanting to do so. At the very least we do divide things between “mine” and “not mine.” Conflict can even arise when there is a dispute over what’s “yours” and what’s “mine.”

I had two uncles who ended up having a huge conflict over a piece of land left to them by my grandfather when he died. It was so bad that they didn’t speak for years. Thankfully they eventually reconciled but it’s still a shame that so much time was wasted by a fight over a piece of property. Especially since that land didn’t really belong, strictly speaking, to either of them. It was given to them by my grandfather. As such, it was a gift. And the fight that resulted missed this point and thereby dishonoured the giver.

Nothing we own or have is ours. We possess nothing, properly speaking. All that we have and experience as blessing—homes, cars, food, jobs, family, friends, and career opportunities—are gifts given to us by God. Our passage from James tells us that “every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.” All the good in our lives that we know comes from God. God gives us everything.

Recognizing this is a simple extension of acknowledging that God is our creator. Not only does all we have come from him, we come from him. We owe God our very life. He’s the one who breathes life into us. Psalm 104:30 says this of God’s activity as creator: “When you send forth your spirit, they are created.” Apart from God, we would not be. And so, likewise, apart from God, we would have nothing. So everything we have is gift.

No matter who our employer is or how we provide for our living that ultimately we rely on God. To use an imperfect analogy, whoever signs your pay-check, the funds come from God’s bank account.

This is a call to trust in him as giver—as our heavenly Father who gives us every good and perfect gift. We see this, too, in Jesus’ words from the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew that we heard earlier. Here Jesus points to birds of the air and says to his followers, “They neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”

Jesus wants his disciples not to worry about food and clothes like other people do: “So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” So, Jesus says, if God takes care of even the birds of the air, will he not also take care of you? Is he not worthy, therefore, of your trust?

But trusting God as the ultimate giver, the one who ultimately provides us with all we need, is not always easy. This is where prayer comes in. Trust in God is most fully embodied in prayer. This is why in the Lord’s Prayer Jesus teaches us to pray “give us each day our daily bread.” Jesus is teaching us to rely on the Father of lights, on God’s ongoing providential care. By praying these words we gradually learn to move from worry to trust, from anxiety to faith.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul encourages prayer for very similar reasons. “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” In other words, turn your cares into prayers! Trust God, because God is the one who gives us everything we need. To experience and know God as the ultimate giver means, or at least it should mean, being surprised by his generosity and approaching him in faith.

How God Gives—Experiencing Humility and Gratitude

That God gives us everything we need, that he is the source of our life and all of our blessings, leads us to ask: How is it that God is such a giver? What reason could God have for being so utterly, completely generous?

As a father, I want the absolute best for my child, for my daughter. I want her to be healthy, happy, and to have the best education we can provide, the best opportunities, and, most of all, I want her to know, love, and serve God. Why do I want this? Is it because she always demonstrates that she deserves such things? Is it because she’s entitled to have the best this world has to offer? Or is it simply because I am her father and all fathers want the best for their kids? This is what it means to be a father, at least ideally.

God’s reason for being infinitely generous and giving to us is that he is Father. Being the ultimate giver is the essence of who he is. Like James tells us, “Every good and perfect gift” comes from God. And this is so because God himself is goodness. He gives because of who he is; giving is what a good God does.

We probably all have the feeling sometimes that we are owed something—maybe even owed a good life or perhaps a better life. Maybe it’s a fleeting feeling. But there are people who develop a sense of entitlement, that they deserve better than what they have.

Here’s an example:

If I happen to come into some extra money or have fewer expenses in a given month, I might be easily tempted to use that extra money to get myself a treat, something I couldn’t normally afford. So because I work hard to provide for my family, do my best to be a good person, father, husband, pastor, Christian, and citizen, I find myself saying, “Go ahead, treat yourself. You deserve this.” And I might indulge that impulse even though that extra money could be used more wisely or thoughtfully: put a little more on an outstanding bill, give a little more to the church or another good cause, or lend the money to someone I know is in need. But that little voice persists: “You deserve this.”

But when it comes to what God gives, we deserve none of it. He doesn’t give us anything we have based on our merit. We haven’t earned God’s gifts, be it our job, our material possessions, our family or even our very breath. God gives because of who God is: a heavenly Father who loves his children.

This should be a humbling thought. We have what we were not owed, have gained what we have not earned, and have been given what we have not deserved. Knowing God is the ultimate giver, the one who gives us everything, leads us to trust him—leads us to open our hearts to him in prayer, to leave our worries at his feet, and surrender our cares to him. Knowing that all he gives he gives out of his sheer goodness and not because of anything we have done should lead us to a posture of humility.

Humility and thankfulness. I began today’s message by telling you about my first Christmas with my wife's family. At the time I felt overwhelmed, humbled, by their generosity. I’m sure some of you have had occasion to feel that same sense of humility when you’ve received a gift. And usually our first response is to thank the giver.

The same is true of the gifts we receive from God—not only should his generosity lead to our humility, but also our gratitude. We give thanks to God, we express our thanks for all that God has given to us. This, too, we do in our prayers, just as in our prayers we turn to God to meet our needs.

One of the things we always—or almost always—do in our home at mealtimes is give thanks or say grace. It can sometimes seem rote, but it makes us stop even if for a moment to remember that what we have comes from God. Even our little girl will say grace, sometimes without prompting!

As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 9:15, “Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift.” Just as knowing God gives us everything leads us to turn our cares into prayers, when we experience God’s goodness through his gifts, we need to have an attitude of gratitude. Or as someone else has said, “Faith receives God’s gifts as gifts; gratitude receives them well.”

Why God Gives—Becoming Good Receivers

God gives us everything, and he does so because of his goodness, his sheer willingness to give even though we deserve none of his gifts. But if we don’t get these gifts because we deserve them, what purpose does God have in giving as he does? Is God interested in doing more than simply blessing us with all that we have? Are we to sit back and just enjoy what he gives?

In our culture, we have something called ‘returning the favour.’ Someone does something for us, we feel obligated to do something for them in return. Someone gives us a gift, shows us generosity, we feel obligated to give them a ‘return gift.’ But when we talk about God being the giver, what can we possibly give to him in return? Though we owe him everything, we can offer him nothing. Since we have received everything from God than what can we possibly give to God?

Theologian Miroslav Volf has written a profound and wonderful book called Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a Culture Stripped of Grace. Speaking about what we do in response to God’s giving, he says this: “God gives so that we can exist and flourish, but not only for that. God gives so that we can help others exist and flourish as well. God’s gifts aim at making us into generous givers, not just fortunate receivers. God gives so that we, in human measure, can be givers too.”

As God’s people, we are called to imitate God, to be godly. While we can only ever do this in an imperfect manner, this means practicing generosity ourselves. God’s word to us is one of unfathomable kindness—an extraordinary degree of giving of which our lives can only ever be a faint echo. But imitate God’s giving we must. Otherwise we dishonour both the Giver and the gift.

Conclusion—“It is more blessed to give . . .”

In his novel The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky tells the story of an old peasant woman who was quite wicked and who died without leaving a single good deed behind. She lived for herself, taking whatever she could by whatever means. And over the course of her life, she showed no interest in being kind or generous to anyone. After she died, the devil seized her and threw her into the lake of fire. Dostoyevsky continues the story this way:

“So her guardian angel stood and wondered what good deed of hers he could remember to tell to God; ‘She once pulled up an onion in her garden,’ said he, ‘and gave it to a beggar woman.’ And God answered: ‘You take that onion then, hold it out to her in the lake, and let her take hold and be pulled out. And if you can pull her out of the lake, let her come to Paradise, but if the onion breaks, then the woman must stay where she is.’ The angel ran to the woman and held out the onion to her. ‘Come,’ said he, ‘catch hold and I’ll pull you out.’ He began cautiously pulling her out. He had just pulled her right out, when the other sinners in the lake, seeing how she was being drawn out, began catching hold of her so as to be pulled out with her. But she was a very wicked woman and she began kicking them. ‘I’m to be pulled out, not you. It’s my onion, not yours.’ As soon as she said that, the onion broke. And the woman fell into the lake and she is burning there to this day. So the angel wept and went away.”

If this were a true story about how to get into heaven, it would be a bad one. Even the most profound act of human generosity doesn’t warrant God’s favour. If there is anything true in this story, it is the picture of a God whose generosity extends to even the very wicked.

But perhaps it’s true in another way also. If only this woman had shared her onion with those who were grasping at her heels, she could have escaped the fires of selfishness and greed that ended up consuming her. Instead, by holding onto the onion as tightly as she did, she lost both it and herself.

I said at the beginning that while Jesus tells us “it is more blessed to give than to receive,” that we can still feel blessed by also being receivers, by gratefully and humbly receiving the gifts we are given by God. Yet while this is true, we can never truly be good receivers until we also learn to give. Otherwise we run the risk of losing what we’ve been given and ourselves just like this woman in Dostoyevsky’s novel. And it is only when we learn to give away the gifts that we can truly say that we know the Giver.

To Preach Or Not To Preach . . .

So I'm over the flu but today I feel like I could nap and sleep most, if not all, of the day away. But I can't do that. You see, today is Saturday. With tomorrow being Sunday, today I have to ready myself to preach tomorrow. I've got a sermon to finish. I must confess, however, getting back into the groove isn't proving to be easy. I suppose it's the combination of feeling tired today and of having been essentially off work for the better part of two weeks that is making getting to work today more difficult. True, I did spend some time last week working on a sermon that I never finished. So it's really been about a week or so since I've worked. Yet having had no regular work routine for so long makes it feel like it's been more than that.

I also have to decide whether I'm going to finish the sermon I planned on preaching last week when I was sick or am I going to do something else. You would think finishing a sermon already begun would be easier than that something else. But the thought has occurred to me of using an old sermon tomorrow and giving myself more time to work on that almost-done message. I have two reasons for considering this. First, I don't know if I have the energy to work through the sermon I have already started. Like I said, while I'm over the flu, I am tired today. I don't want to produce a half-hearted effort that will disappoint and fall flat.

That leads to my second reason. The sermon that I was working on is a follow-up sermon from the last one. And so I want it to be able to carry the weight it needs to have. I don't want to just say that it needs to be good--but it does, in a way. It also might be the beginning of a new series. I don't want to slough it off. I want to be able to think about it, reflect on it, pray about, etc. Even as I write this, I'm convincing myself that it needs more attention than I can give it today. Those of you out there who are preachers or who have preached know exactly what I mean.

But to take more time to prepare that sermon means preparing a different sermon for tomorrow, and as much as I love bringing something fresh to my congregation I don't know that I want to give them a "Saturday-special," a message that was entirely conceived the day before it was preached. So . . . that means what I guess you can call a recycled sermon. This is the advantage of having sermons on file my present congregation has never heard! It's not my favourite option but it works on a few levels.

Are there pastors out there who have done this? I'd love to know. Have you ever preached an old sermon to a new congregation for a similar reason or for a completely different reason? What do you think of the notion? Do you think God can take an old message and use it again? Not to compare our sermons with Scripture, but certainly that's what happens there. Paul wasn't writing to us. But what he wrote under the inspiration of the Spirit certainly speaks to us. Knowing that this is true gives me some measure of confidence that my congregation can still be blessed by my message, even if they're not the first ones who've heard it!