Restoring Kingdom Builders

Last Sunday, I had the privilege of preaching at a church in California.

And I enjoyed it very much.

Last November, for the first time in nearly two years, I spoke at another church in California.  While I was grateful for the opportunity, I was so out of sync that I forgot my Bible.  (I borrowed my wife’s.)

But things went well this past Sunday – and I remembered my Bible!

I spoke on John 3:16.  While I considered Hebrews 6:4-6, I let that thought pass.

When you haven’t run for a while, it’s better to attempt a mile than a marathon.

Here’s what I miss most about preaching:

First, I miss the preparation time.  I love interpreting a passage … and doing research on it … and finding relevant applications … and synthesizing material … and the actual writing of the message itself.

I love it so much that in my last ministry, I usually studied far into the night on Thursdays and didn’t finish the message until around noon on Friday – my day off.

When you speak every week, your consciousness is heightened all week long because you’re constantly scanning your surroundings for applications and stories.

And your whole week culminates in Sunday morning.

I miss that.

Second, I miss the pre-service prayer time.  Last Sunday, the people involved in the service gathered in a side room.  We all held hands and then the pastor prayed for the service.

In the past, I always felt pulled in two directions right before the service.

On the one hand, I wanted to visit with churchgoers because I genuinely loved them.  While I couldn’t get to everybody, I wanted to reach as many people as I could … and most people showed up a few minutes before the service started.

But I also wanted to be present for the pre-service prayer – because I needed it myself.

I miss that.

Third, I miss the moment right before the message starts.  I suppose it’s a similar feeling for actors, or singers, or musicians.  You know you’re about ready to go on … and there’s no backing out now.

And you’ve been preparing diligently for that very moment.

One of my favorite preachers, D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, used to refer to “the romance of preaching.”  He told his students that you never knew what God was going to do on any particular Sunday.

Sometimes you prepare well and the message falls flat.  Other times, you’re ill-prepared and the Spirit of God just carries you along.

Ah, the romance of preaching.

I miss that.

Fourth, I miss expounding the Word of God.  I believe in the primacy of Scripture.  God’s people are to follow His Word regardless of what the state, business, education, or family say about a matter.

That’s an awesome responsibility: to challenge the culture with a book that’s twenty to forty centuries old.

When I’m preaching God’s Word, I am conscious that I am standing in a long line of preachers who believe they have a word from God for their hearers.

For example: while we all know that “God loves me,” this question crossed my mind as I was preparing for the message:

How do we know that God loves us?

There are many faiths that don’t believe that God loves people.  Why do we think He does?

First, because He tells us so in His written Word: “For God so loved the world …”

Second, because “He gave His one and only Son …”

Without God’s Word and God’s Son, we would not know that God loves us.

Sounds so simple … but it’s incredibly profound … and it’s the job of the preacher to remind us of those truths.

I miss that.

Finally, I miss liberating people with truth.  Jesus said in John 8:32, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

This is true liberation theology.

Charles Spurgeon used to say that a sermon should make people sad, mad, or glad.

But I always had one overarching aim when I preached: to free people with truth.

I never tried to shame people, or make them feel guilty, or condemn them for being human.

Instead, I tried to point listeners to the only One who could loose their chains: Jesus.

I miss that.

Over the past two years, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I may never preach again.

Most churches in our day have just one teacher, and that’s the pastor.  If you’re not paid to preach, you ain’t preaching.

But the Lord may be opening up an opportunity for me to preach every week … and if He does, I’ll be eternally grateful.

Because as much as I act like I don’t miss it, I do.