Driven by Fear

Posted on April 25, 2012 by holinesstoday

Dear Rev. McNeer:

Greetings. A few days ago, while waiting for my doctor’s appointment, I picked up your denomination’s periodical, Holiness Today (Jan/Feb 2012). Someone had left it in the waiting room. I thumbed through the magazine with interest and was favorably impressed by the breadth and quality of its topics. One particular piece jumped out at me—the letter written by a sister in Atlanta to her brother in Los Angeles I must say that I was favorably impressed by her pointed questions, but not so favorably impressed by the picture she painted of her “Christian” brother.

You might call me a “nominal Christian.” I attend church on special occasions, but am too occupied with my career as an architect and other interests to make religion a major part of my life. But persons who profess to be Christian do interest me. I know some Christians whose up-right lives and service to their community I admire—even play golf once a week with two of them.

But the letter from Agnes set me to reflecting on a puzzling characteristic of many Christians I’ve known. A couple of days ago my puzzlement became focused as a question. I saw you and your congregation listed in the religion section of Saturday’s paper and decided to present my question to you. So, here goes.

I have no problem with belief in one God (I think you call it monotheism) who rules out the existence of all other “gods.” I don’t balk at the belief that God is the fountain of all truth and goodness. I can even entertain the idea that somehow people know this God, though I don’t make this claim myself. My question lies elsewhere.

I’ve noticed that many Christians eliminate all space between their belief in God and their own opinions about almost everything. Politics? They “know” exactly what God thinks and which side he is on. Cultures other than their own? No sweat. They know God values their own culture as superior in all respects to all others. Economics? God issued the rules for capitalism straight from heaven. Enemies of their own county? God unambiguously “thunders” his judgment against them from the heavens. In some instances this “almightiness” as I will call it, applies even to how these Christians think people should dress and cut their hair.

Here is my question: Is there something about belief in one God and claiming to know him that necessitates equating one’s own viewpoint with how God sees things? Does “knowing God” eliminate recognizing one’s own limited perspective? May I be even more blunt—are Christians doomed to arrogance, or is there something about knowing God that might encourage humility?

I once read an ancient Hebrew prayer cited in “Dear Abby” that frames my question:

“From the cowardice that shrinks from new truth,
From the laziness that is content with half-truths,
From the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
Oh, God of Truth, deliver us.”

Enclosed is my business card. I would appreciate a telephone or email response. Maybe we could meet for coffee and conversation at that new café near the corner of Oak and East Main.

Cordially,

Rachel
(Read the Jan/Feb 2012 article by Al Truesdale: http://bit.ly/zL0ivC

by Al Truesdale

About Al Truesdale
Al Truesdale is emeritus professor of Philosophy of Religion and Christian Ethics at Nazarene Theological Seminary. He has earned degrees from Trevecca Nazarene University, Nazarene Theological Seminary, and Emory University. Truesdale has published numerous articles (many for Holiness Today) and books. He and his wife, Esther, live in the historic South Caroline low country. His most recent books are The Baal Conspiracy: An Exposé of Everyday Idolatry (Beacon Hill Press, 2010) and Square Peg: Why Wesleyans Aren’t Fundamentalists (Beacon Hill Press, 2012).

Put Away the Folding Table

Posted on February 8, 2012 by holinesstoday

As a young person at family gatherings, you often had to sit at the folding table which was either in another room or added to the end of the “big peoples’” table. You might have to sit on the piano bench and, your worst fear, share it with your brother. Somehow we all survived those days and we were grateful for the day when we were invited to sit at the big table and a new generation had to sit around the folding table.

In the Church of the Nazarene we have had a lovely folding table around which sits the youth. I can hear them in the other room laughing and having a great time. They’re spending time in prayer, they’re worshiping the Lord, and then they even open up their laptops, phone, and iPads and have fellowship with their friends from all over the world. Sometimes I want to sit at that table and embrace the vibrancy which is felt there.

The plan in life is always to move up from the folding table to the big table. Today it seems as if we haven’t made enough room around the big table to invite those who have been around the folding table. Just recently Matt Price from Mount Vernon Nazarene University was giving a presentation at our Nazarene Youth International (NYI) convention. He was talking about the characteristics of adolescents and what it takes to grow up. Part of that growth is to take on responsibility within the greater body.

For a while in the Church of the Nazarene, we kept lifting the age limit for leaders within our youth organizations so that eventually, instead of growing up and mentoring new leaders who would be invited to the big peoples’ table, we simply left them at the folding table for an extended period of time. Then, as some outgrew the folding table, all the seats at the big peoples’ table were already filled and the younger group no longer felt welcome at the family gatherings.

For the survival of the Church, we desperately need our young people. We need their passion, excitement, and vision for the future. Maybe it’s time to put away the folding table, enlarge our family table, and invite everyone to come and fellowship together.

The Church of the Nazarene has a great future, if we will remove all barriers to the future. The Holy Spirit is being poured out among our young people who have a passion for service and a humble holiness lifestyle. Let’s welcome them in from the other room and allow them to help shape our future. That’s our hope.

Fold up the little table, it’s time to put it away.

by Carla Sunberg

Carla Sunberg

About Carla Sunberg

Carla Sunberg is co-district superintendent of the East Ohio District with her husband, Chuck. Previously, she was evangelism pastor at Grace Point Church of the Nazarene in Ft. Wayne, IN. They served together as missionaries to the former Soviet Union for 13 years. She also teaches church history and is writing her doctoral dissertation on the Cappadocian Fathers and Mothers. The Sunbergs have two grown daughters.

Reflections on Integrity

Posted on January 30, 2012 by holinesstoday

Over the last several years I’ve read a few books on the importance of integrity. Stephen L. Carter believes integrity is one of the “pre-democratic virtues” that must be practiced if democracy is going to thrive. Henry Cloud writes that “integrity is the courage to meet the demands of reality.” I believe most of us have witnessed first-hand what happens when people, from all walks of life, fail to practice integrity. Most everyone around them is affected.

It’s interesting how often the issue of integrity arises in our conversations about leadership. Many consider integrity to be the key to both success and significance.

Recently, I stumbled across a wonderful book by K. P. Yohannan Against the Wind: Finishing Well in a World of Compromise. The context of the book is taken from a series he taught in January 2002 to 500 attendees at a conference for field leaders associated with the Gospel for Asia organization. The lessons are drawn from 2 Timothy. To illustrate the importance of integrity in our everyday lives, Yohannan shares the following:

In the American form of government, the most powerful and influential group of people next to the president is the Senate. I once heard the story of one particular senator who was known for being an honest and God-fearing politician. Everywhere he went, people would ask him why he was so different from most politicians, why he would not compromise and why he gave such high priority to living by principle. To answer their questions, he told the following story.

One morning he and his father took their fishing poles and worms and started fishing on a lake. The guidelines that came with their license said that they could keep only the fish that were caught after noon (in the U.S. you must have a license to fish in the lakes).

For quite some time they patiently waited for a catch. Suddenly the boy felt a tug on his line. “Daddy, Daddy,” he cried out, “fish!”

His father helped him pull the line in, revealing a large beautiful fish flopping on the end of the line.

“I caught a big fish!” cried the boy excitedly. “We can cook it, Daddy, and Mommy will be very happy.”

But his father said, “Son, it is not yet noon.”

“What do you mean?”

“The law says that we can only keep the fish we catch starting at exactly twelve noon. My son, it is not yet twelve o’clock.”

“But, Daddy, nobody is here. We are the only people on this whole lake. Nobody will know!”

But his father stood strong. “Son, it is still five minutes before twelve. It is not yet noon.”

“Oh, Daddy, please!” the boy cried. “It’s only five minutes.”

“My son, it may be only five minutes away, but I’m sorry. We cannot keep the fish.”

The father took the fish and threw it back into the lake.

This example of his father’s commitment to integrity, no matter how small or great the matter impacted the boy so significantly that it is what he attributed his success as a politician to. He says that to this day, he still hears the voice of his father reminding him of the importance of integrity, that regardless of who sees or knows, he will consistently choose to do the right thing, no matter what the cost.

Lesson drawn? Integrity is more caught than taught! (no pun intended) and generally, people of personal integrity are people of influence.

I have my own story. There was a time, when I was 12, that I was short and chubby (I know that must be hard to believe). So my mom would take me to a “husky” clothing store in Washington, D.C. (one hour away!) to shop for school clothes.

After arriving home following a shopping spree, mom checked the receipt contents only to discover she had not paid for my new belt ($2.00). The reason it cost so much was because it was four-feet long. So, we jumped back in the car and drove all the way to “The Husky Store” to pay for the belt. The customer service people there were amazed and thanked her profusely. As for me, lesson learned. Integrity is costly. It involves sacrifice and courage, and it can be counter-cultural in a word of compromise.

But it’s worth it, don’t you think? My mom and dad were people of integrity and were admired by many. People of integrity are people of influence.

“No one who gives their best regrets it.” (George Halas)

by Bud Reedy

Bud Reedy

About Bud Reedy

Bud Reedy is a pastor and avid sports fan. He loves the Baltimore Orioles, the Maryland Terps, and the Washington Redskins. He loves his wife, Sally, his two adult children, Greg and Heather, and his grandkids, Bayse Joseph and Makenna Grace.

Telling the Truth

Posted on January 16, 2012 by holinesstoday

Julie is petite. She did not look like a killer.

She stood as she spoke, gathered as we were in prayerful shared fellowship. She told the truth of her story to our faith community. She had pulled the trigger of her .357 pistol. The handgun had been a gift from her father many years before. She had not fired it in years. A bullet from this gun exploded through the barrel, piercing her husband’s heart. She pulled the trigger several times. Her husband was dead within seconds.

Julie had been with us for several weeks. She was energetic, worked hard in serving others, and was always on time—even early—for fellowship and faith opportunities.

On this day, though, her speech seemed more timid than before. No doubt, her timidity had to do with the nature of the truth she was telling us.

“I intended to shoot him in the forehead as he slept,” she said, “but he opened his eyes. I jerked. That’s why the round of bullets I shot all went through his chest.”

“I served ‘time’ for what I did.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“I needed to tell you today.”

We sat in silence for several moments. It was Julie who filled the silence with more of her story. Perhaps the silence was too vacuous and she felt the need to fill it.

She recounted the history of abuse she had endured at the hands of her husband and what had happened on this particular night in the hours before the shooting. She described that it was only later, after the police took her confession, that medical doctors diagnosed the gravity of her skin burns, the result of the scalding oil he had thrown at her hours before. The size and magnitude of her visible head injury, from the cast iron pan her husband wielded against her head, gave visible evidence of her concussion before it was later diagnosed at the emergency room following her jailhouse confession. The police and medical records of her injuries would be used in her trial, where she was reasonably found guilty of murder in a Texas Court. It was in Texas where she served her sentence.

“You need to know the truth about me,” she said.

The room was still. No shuffled feet. No rustle of clothing. Silence was speaking.

In the void of noise, Julie’s story filled the space. Silence had its moments as each of us thought about our own hidden stories. Silence evoked our secrets.

Julie’s truth narrated in story, set in on us. Like the weight of a blanket as it is laid across our shoulders, the weight of Julie’s truth lay on us.

As Silence spoke, I remembered a psychotherapeutics maxim, “You’re only as sick as your secrets.” Julie shared her secret. As Silence spoke, petite Julie seemed to have been released from the shackles of her silence. She was authentically entirely herself in our midst.

Silence lingered.

It was several minutes before Ted spoke.

Ted recounted how he was having some landlord/tenant issues. He inquired if anyone in the fellowship had advice on any vacancies nearby. A few shared some ideas for Ted.

After a while, we ended our time of fellowship with prayer and shared a meal together.

Julie’s story, its truth, the weight of Silence, and the ability to speak the truth changed us.

It has been several months since I heard Julie tell her story. The fact is that we have not spoken another word about it since she narrated it to us, at least, not that I know of. It changed us.
We still gather for meetings. We still eat together. But we gather and eat differently. It is not often that people tell their truths, truthfully. In our shared times of fellowship—at least in this local parish—we share “prayer requests” and we tell stories. We make announcements about upcoming activities and prepare for holiday events in every season of the year. But, we rarely tell the truth about ourselves, because it exposes who we are—our past, the pain we have caused, the hurt we have inflicted, and the sins we have committed.

Julie taught us something that day—and we continue to learn from it. The church needs to be a place where people can and will tell the truth about their whole life’s story. The church is more than preaching, prayer requests, announcements and holiday events. The church is the place where we tell the truth about who we are, in order that we might become more like the One we are called to become. We are shaped by our life’s history, but shaped differently when we tell the truth about ourselves to others. Our history changes us differently—personally and communally—when we share it with full integrity.

Psalm 15:1 affirms that those who abide in God’s tent “speak the truth from their heart.” Zechariah 8:16 encourages exiles on their return to speak the truth to one another. Ephesians 4:25 admonishes us to speak the truth to one another, for we are members of each other. In 2 Samuel 12 David has to be confronted with the truth by Nathan in order to be held accountable to judgment, allowing him also to seek forgiveness.

Few persons in any congregation need to tell the truth of a killing. But, in every congregation there will be people who need to tell their truth of their gossip, their theft from employer, their lust manifest in late-night-on-line-pornography, their thoughts of envy or jealousy for coworkers. The list could go on.

Each of our congregations, no matter the social or economic or racial status, needs the opportunity to follow the biblical admonition to tell the truth, one to another. And, perhaps church leaders would best lead the church, by first sharing their truths in open and honest ways.

Church leadership involves many tasks, many skills, and many practices. We learned from Julie that day that church leaders need to create the space for people to speak their truth and reveal their secrets. When people tell the truth about themselves and are left with affirming Silence, we are all changed in the encounter.

(In this true story, names have been changed and some locations altered to protect identities.)

by Marty Michelson

Marty Michelson

About Marty Michelson

Marty Michelson is professor of theology and ministry at Southern Nazarene University Bethany, Oklahoma.

The God Who Searches Our Hearts

Posted on December 30, 2011 by holinesstoday

Thoughts from I Thessalonians

God tries our hearts, searching us for those imperfections, those residual elements that pose any threat of resistance or hindrance to his work in our hearts. We must be sensitive to God’s probing work. If we are not in the Word of God, or are separated from the Body of Christ where the preaching of God’s Word occurs, how will we be aware of the work God wants to accomplish in us?

We are to walk worthy of the Lord. What does “worthy” mean in this cultural setting? We have to look at every situation and ask the Holy Spirit to enlighten us regarding the best course of action. The good news is, we can depend on the Holy Spirit to “guide us into all truth.”

Howbeit when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, [that] shall he speak: and he will shew you things to come John 16:13 (KJV).

Is God searching your heart, probing every area to see if there is any area that is not fully, completely surrendered to His sovereign authority and control?

From the scripture it is clear that God engages us in the ongoing process by communicating by His Spirit to our minds. Whatever poses any resistance to the Lordship of Christ must be subdued; no, more than that, it must be surrendered to his Lordship.

Anything that resists God’s sovereign control, or withdraws ever so slightly from total alignment with God’s will or character must be eliminated from my life. Time must be spent in introspection and self-examination if I am to move beyond the basics of rudimentary discipleship.

God calls us onward, toward full, complete development. To linger in the elementary stages of Christian experience is to miss God’s call upon our lives, and if we deliberately reject God’s call onward to holiness, then we risk condemnation. This is at the heart of what it means to walk worthy of the Lord. The Christian experience is not just a momentary decision designed to provide some kind of cover from the wrath of God against sin. If I am not growing, changing, becoming the full-grown believer in Christ, my experience is nothing more than a dead profession of faith.

There is no such thing as a passive Christian experience or existence. If God’s Spirit is at work within us, then something powerful, the Spirit of God is at work, changing, transforming, renewing, and bringing us into greater degree of Christ’s likeness. Simultaneously, that which is not in alignment with the character of Jesus is being stripped away. We are becoming full-grown, perfect specimens of Christ’s redemptive work. We just don’t “believe in Jesus,” we are captured by Him and His powerful grace.

He makes us brand new creatures, changing the focus of our lives, exchanging the old ways, and in their place, giving us the new, glorious, inexpressible joy of the Lord and the purity that frees is from the old, downward pull of our old life!

by David Felter

David Felter

About David J. Felter

David J. Felter is general editor and Holiness Today editor in chief. As general editor, he oversees editorial content in books and publications for the Church of the Nazarene. In addition to his role as editor in chief of the denomination’s primary magazine, to which he was elected in 2004, Dr. Felter also is the senior editor of NCN News. He pastored for 21 years in Iowa, California, Oklahoma, Indiana, and Kansas. Since 1985, Dr. Felter has held assignments at Nazarene Headquarters, having served as education program manager, coordinator of Evangelism Ministries, executive editor of Adult Sunday School Curriculum, director of Adult Ministries/Lay Training, and director of Communications Services. He and his wife, Sandra, have two married sons, David and Jib, and five grandchildren.

Called to Pastor

Posted on December 19, 2011 by holinesstoday

In August 2010 I was hired on staff at our church to begin a new area of ministry that would equip and mobilize people for volunteer service in our church and community. I greatly respected the senior pastor and loved the team spirit I felt among the other pastors. The challenge of the task, the visionary leadership of our senior pastor, and the prospect of working on a strong team all made me excited about taking the position.

It was clear that I was following God’s direction as my husband and I moved across the country to begin life here. Yet my understanding of why I was going still had a lot to do with the senior pastor’s vision and my anticipation to be a part of it.

Less than a year later, our senior pastor told our staff he had been asked to take another position. I tried to deal with it maturely, but I struggled, feeling like God had left me high and dry. I asked God why He had brought me to work under such a great pastor, only to take him away so soon.

“I mean, that’s why I came here God! To learn! To grow! To be a part of this team!” The Lord interrupted my thoughts. Gently he said, “Are you sure that’s why you’re here?”

It worked.

I was silent.

I began to think about the people whom I had gotten to know and love in the nine months I had been here. I recalled precious moments I had shared with ladies in my Bible study, Celebrate Recovery, and our women’s ministry group. I remembered the passion that had been ignited in others as I had talked with them about mobilizing people for ministry.

My heart began to swell with love and pride for these dear folks who had so quickly embraced me as their pastor. How could I have thought that my own ambitions were more important than loving and caring for the people of this church? Who was I to think that I knew all the reasons I was here, anyway?

I realized that my attitude not only limited God, but it conveyed a conditional love toward our congregation: I would love them as long as the senior pastor stayed. That thought really bothered me. I had to repent, and I asked the Lord to deepen my love for the people he had brought into my life.

A few months later our senior pastor did leave for that new position. When the time came for his departure, I certainly felt the sadness with everyone else. But I didn’t feel despair or anxiety or resentment. In fact, the last months of ministry during this transition have been some of the most fulfilling to date. The Spirit has been faithful to lead our whole church into a feeling of excitement and anticipation of what will come next, and I’m right there with them.

The Lord has used this surprising turn of events to teach me an incredibly important lesson. When I agreed to be a pastor at this church, I agreed to pastor. Period. Yes, I am a staff pastor, with a specific role that is influenced by my senior pastor. But whatever else I may be, I am called to be a pastor. It’s the call to love, to support, to encourage, to nurture, and to lead God’s flock.

by Michaele LaVigne

Michaele LaVigne

About Michaele LaVigne

Michaele LaVigne is the equipping pastor of Bethany, OK, First Church of the Nazarene (BFC). Her passion and main responsibility is helping believers find their God-given niche of service, and equipping them for that ministry. She and her husband, Brent, served in Swaziland for one year as BFC’s on-site coordinators for the Swaziland Partnership.

Sevanthood vs. Superiority

Posted on December 6, 2011 by holinesstoday

Jesus came to serve, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45 NIV).

We have been called upon to serve one another—to serve the present age. We often sing together, “Make me a servant, humble and meek.” Sounds simple enough.

But Duane Elmer in his book Cross-Cultural Servanthood: Serving the World in Christlike Humility, suggests that the main thing that hinders our service may be a superior attitude. Elmer writes:

“I am often guilty of a superior attitude. Submerged deep within me, this attitude can be evasive and hard to identity. I quickly rationalize and deny its presence. Usually superiority appears in disguises that pretend to be virtues—virtues such as:

I need to correct their errors (meaning I have superior knowledge a corner on truth).
My education has equipped me to know what is best for you (so let me do most of the talking while you do most of the listening and changing).
I am here to help you (so do as I say).
I can be your spiritual mentor (so I am your role model).
Let me disciple you, equip you, train you (often perceived as ‘let me make you into a clone of myself’).”

Elmer concludes:

“These and other so-called virtues corrupt our attempts to serve others.” (p.17)

Upon reading Elmer’s “confessions” I realized (I must confess!) I am guilty of similar attitudes.
Lord, give me a servant’s heart and a servant’s spirit. May my service look more and more like yours—kenosis—emptied of self—as Paul wrote:

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. (Philippians 2:5-7 NIV)

This is the work of Christ’s Spirit within us.

By Bud Reedy

Bud Reedy

About Bud Reedy

Heading to General Assembly 2013

Posted on November 28, 2011 by holinesstoday

A little early, you say? Perhaps so, but the first letter on the election of delegates has already been received by some districts. So we are definitely heading towards General Assembly 2013. As you may know, we will be returning to the Nazarene heartland: Indianapolis, Indiana. That means business as usual, you think? That conclusion might not be as justified as the location would presume. There are changes going on in the church, and they are put in second, if not in third gear by the continued worldwide financial crisis.

Here in Europe it starts to look like a bad sitcom that refuses to end, and nobody seems to know where we are going. I am not much into end time speculations, but you really do not need a special revelation or expert knowledge to see that the world is in turmoil. And it definitely affects our beloved Zion, so to speak. We already heard from pretty drastic but necessary measures regarding the Global Ministry Center and its services. But there is more.

The 2009 General Assembly has authorized a Commission on the Nazarene Future set with the task to conduct a study of the denomination and provide a report to the 2013 General Assembly.

Now unlike political movements that attract people who want change, we in the church are usually a little less enthusiastic when it comes to that prospect. But change is upon us, whether we like it or not. The economic realities seem to act like a catalyst for necessary change because we simply cannot keep doing things the way we used to do them. Perhaps surprisingly, I am not a revolutionary who seeks change as a goal in itself. Nor do I think we as a church should pursue that course. Most will agree that while we must maintain what is good, we need to improve (change) what is not yet as it should be, or what simply no longer produces the desired results.

It has, of course, been repeated numerous times that if we keep doing what we have always done, we may expect the results we have always had. That is, if the situation stays the same. But what we have always done in the West, has, for quite some time, stopped producing the desired results. And now the situation is changing rapidly as well.

What am I trying to say here? I am trying to say that change is upon us, forced by economic realities, but that change may actually be a blessing in disguise. You may remember how in the early days of the Church, most believers conveniently stayed in and around Jerusalem. Probably expecting the imminent return of Christ, they saw no reason to head out into the world. They were familiar with Judah, after all. However, after the stoning of Stephen, persecution broke loose and many were scattered to the countries around Judah.

In the process, they brought the message of the Way to the heathens, as was God’s plan and intention. Now surely they did not enjoy persecution! In the West, there is little we can say about this but we have brothers and sisters in this world for whom the concept is way too close for comfort. But the bad situation was used by God to create a necessary change in the Church.

I wonder, could it be that we are seeing the same thing today?

by Hans Deventer

Hans Deventer

About Hans Deventer

Hans Deventer resides in Dordrecht, Netherlands, with his wife, Hannie. A lay preacher, Hans is a member of the Netherlands District Advisory Board. He is employed as an IT coordinator at a housing corporation.

3 Questions for Preachers

Posted on November 14, 2011 by holinesstoday

I had good models when I was a young preacher: G. B. Williamson, Bill McCumber, Bill Greathouse, and especially Fred Craddock. But for all the good models, I could have been a better preacher if I had struck “The Thinker’s” pose and pondered three questions more often.

1. Must I spend so much of the sermon flailing away at the obvious?
Why keep drumming away at the obvious meaning of the text long after the hearers have gotten the point? I can spend a whole sermon flailing away at the obvious.

Too many times I did not dig into the several layers of meaning in the text—did not live with the text long enough—and so I really had nothing beyond the obvious to say.

Occasionally, I found three good illustrations that made the point. Instead of judiciously choosing the one best for that sermon, congregation, or occasion, I squeezed in all of them. Then, I spent all the time between the special song and the benediction flailing away at what was by then overly obvious.

When preaching on “The Lord is my shepherd,” why drag in everything you can “Google” about “shepherds?” Preachers should aim at getting a new hearing for the text. And flailing away at the obvious is not the way to do that.

Several better options beckon. For example, learn to look for the surprise in the text. Why would Matthew, in writing the genealogy—the credential statement of Christ, include an adulteress, an incestuous woman, and a Gentile harlot? Surprise!

Why in the Abrahamic Covenant of Genesis 15 does Abram never walk among the pieces of the five sacrificial animals? It was a two-party covenant all right. But God was the party of the first part (flaming torch/ pillar of fire) and God was the party of the second part (smoking censor/pillar of cloud)! What does this have to do with our Lord’s “five bleeding wounds” on Calvary?

When Jesus interviewed a prospect eager to join the Jesus Movement, why did He cite five of the commandments on the second table of the Law while leaving the sixth one out. Why? Jesus knew—and the Rich Young Ruler knew that He knew.

I’ve heard several sermons on Naboth, but not one of them revealed the true reason Naboth put a “Not For Sale” sign on his vineyard. Then there’s Abner the noble warrior—why is the place he died so important? And why did both Jeremiah and Isaiah suggest that potter’s clay could choose?

Looking for the surprise in the text is just one of the options that are better than flailing away at the obvious. But lest I myself start flailing again, I move on.

2. Must I Use Personal Illustrations?
The Ace-High Poker Club in a mall about two miles from my house was declared illegal and shut down. In its place there appeared a storefront church. I wandered into a service one day and the pastor demonstrated the best and the worst in personal illustrations.

The worst first: He told about encountering a worldly young man in the park. The pastor asked him if he was going to hell or heaven.
“Well, I don’t know”
“Let me ask you, have you told lies?”
“Yeah, who hasn’t?”
“Have you stolen anything?”
“Could be—few times”
“Do you lust after the pretty girls wearing shorts here in the park?’
“Hey, man, I’m human”
“You just told me that you are a lying, thieving, adulterer, and you wonder where God is going to send you?”

Avoid personal illustrations in which you are the hero of the story, the bold witness who zings the sinner, or leaves the atheist speechless with your one-liner.

Use personal illustrations to testify of God’s grace to “even me.” Use personal illustrations in which you yourself are the one guilty of prayerlessness, insensitivity, lack of faith, and so on. If you must indict someone, indict yourself.

The best: The storefront pastor was not the hero of this illustration: “When I was in prison,” he said, “someone came and explained the gospel to me. After I found Christ, the one thing I wanted most was a better life for my wife and children. I’m here to tell you today that Jesus can give you a better life, too.”

That’s the best personal illustration I have heard lately.

3. What Percentage of My Preaching Should be Pathological?
Too much of my preaching has been pathological. That is, a search for what is wrong. One definition of pathological is “any abnormal variation from a sound or proper condition.”

Preaching on the soils in Matthew 13, I made a three-point sermon of the hard, thorny, and shallow soils. I focused loud and long on being hardhearted, letting “weeds” choke the spiritual life, and I plowed deep on shallowness.

Later, I realized that nearly all the hearers that day were the “good soil” folks. They had seen, over the years, the 60 and 100 fold increase that Jesus spoke about. I missed an opportunity to form a good inductive structure firing away (briefly) at hard, shallow, and weedy living on the way to a “reversal” in which I could say something like this: As I prayed about this parable, the Lord showed me your faces, the faces of people who are the “good ground” believers. Folks like you who have seen the blessings of the Lord increase 60 and 100 fold. I commend you—I honor you—I celebrate your harvest.

But I didn’t do that. I just let the pathological search for what was wrong stand.

Indeed, we have to preach the warnings, dangers, and the judgments. But we should also proclaim the 100-fold harvest, and lavish grace poured out more often.

How much of my preaching should be a search for what is wrong? How much of it should be a hallowed celebration of what is right?

by Wes Tracy

Wes Tracy

About Wes Tracy

Wes Tracy has served as a pastor in the Church of the Nazarene, also as editor of the Herald of Holiness and Preacher’s Magazine. He taught adult Christian education and Christian preaching at Nazarene Theological Seminary. He is the author or co-author of more than 20 books including “Younger Than I Used to Be.” Now retired, he lives with his wife, Bettye, in Arizona.

Close Encounters of a Racist Kind

Posted on November 2, 2011 by holinesstoday

Walter Cronkite, in his autobiography, A Reporter’s Life, tells of his first real brush with overt racial hatred. His father had been asked to move to Houston to teach at a dental college. While there, the senior Cronkite shared an office with another dentist, a wealthy community leader. Not long after the Cronkites arrived in Houston, this dentist invited the family to dinner. Following the meal, they were gathered on the grand home’s front porch to await the ice cream delivery from a local drugstore.

Cronkite wrote:
A black delivery boy shined his flashlight along the curb and toward the sides of the house. Not finding an obvious path to the kitchen door and seeing us on the porch, he came up the walk from the street.

Livid, the host stopped talking as the delivery boy reached the first step while holding out the bag with the ice cream. The dentist charged out of his seat, hit the delivery boy with his fist, and shouted, “That’ll teach you, [n__________], to put your foot on a white man’s front porch!”

Never before or after did I see my father in such a seething rage. As the bloodied delivery boy scrambled to his feet and back to his motorcycle, Dad said: “Helen, Walter, we’re going now,” and he escorted us down the front steps, followed by Dr. Smith’s mystified entreaties.

I did not fully understand then the import of the offense or of Dad’s courageous response to it. Although fully dependent upon Dr. Smith to launch a new practice, he broke off the relationship and struck out on his own.

I couldn’t have had a more searing example of racial injustice than this, my first brush with it. There was another confrontation not many weeks later, when my mother was warned that I should not play with a black boy who lived in a neighbor’s servants’ quarters down the block.

“You might do that up north, but that isn’t the way we do things down here,” she was admonished. Again my father’s indignation rose: “They turn over their infants to be wet-nursed by a colored woman and their children to be raised by them and then they won’t let the children play together. Some system!”

I know many of my younger readers will find Cronkite’s story to be something from a very distant past. Actually, growing up in the segregated south (St. Mary’s County, Maryland) in the 50s and 60s I have equally disturbing memories. One stands out above the rest.

Little League Baseball was segregated in St. Mary’s County until I was 12 years old. Up to that point, I had no meaningful contact with people of color. Neighborhoods were segregated schools were segregated, churches were segregated—a way of life in the segregated South.

Quite frankly, I was as surprised as everyone else when Ralph Barbor showed up at the Hollywood Braves Little League Baseball registration. Looking back, I remember well Ralph’s quiet confidence and determination: “I ‘m here to play baseball!” And boy, could he play!

Our team went to win the county championship game against the Ridge Orioles, in large measure due to the outstanding play and attitude of Ralph Barbor. Who, by the way, went on to become a three letter student at Ryken Academy and was awarded a college scholarship for track and field at Bowie State University.

But that day also left hard memories as well. Bart Mattingly (not his real name) charged out on the field, grabbed his son by the arm, and launched into a tirade of racial slurs and cursing at Ralph, other players and their parents. As he marched off the field and into his car, he concluded his comments with: “No son of mine is going to play baseball on the same field with no n____________!”
It was then I realized, maybe for the first time, how ugly and irrational racism really is.

And, of course, as time went on and I entered adulthood, I came to realize how through my own racist indoctrination was—and how sinful racism is. But thanks be to God, by His grace I’ve learned that love can repair one’s heart and replace the ugly and irrational with love’s beauty. One can have a close encounter of a loving kind and love will win the day.

Paul wrote:
“If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do. I’m bankrupt without love” 1 Corinthians 13:3 (TM)

Has love won your heart? Or does something other than love remain?

By Bud Reedy

Bud Reedy

About Bud Reedy