I Preached Last Sunday

It’s something I know how to do, and am comfortable doing, but I only do perhaps 2-4 times a year. For what it’s worth, here are some “now that I’m a pastor” musings on preaching:

• be sure you can read your Bible. The last time I preached, I discovered that recent vision changes precluded reading it at pulpit height. I interrupted the introduction to switch to one of our “pew” Bibles (we have chairs, but I’ve never heard of “chair Bibles”).
  
  
• Don’t forget your notes. I have a good memory for them, but listeners are better off if I have them.
  
  
• Hope the wireless microphone doesn’t wander. Unlike lapel mics which can be clipped to clothing, there’s no place to clip a “head mounted” microphone. (My nose is ideally located- the mic could hang down directly in front of the mouth. However, that would be visually distracting as well as probably uncomfortable) A marvel of optimistic design, it’s precariously perched over the ear, extending beside the mouth; hopefully someday a famous preacher experienced with these devices will enlighten me with their techniques for keeping it in place.
  
  
• What do you do if nature calls? I recently heard some well known preachers describe what they did. I don’t know if that will be of future help to me or not.
  
  
• Nothing in seminary taught me how to arrive a half hour late to teach a Sunday School class after oversleeping. I recommend setting 2 alarms (or 3) to avoid repeating before a sermon.
  
  
• Visit the rest room BEFORE putting on the microphone. Even if it’s always turned off. This paranoia is good. (I’ve heard of this, and that’s as close as I want to get).
  
  
• Somebody loves me whether I’m doing well or poorly. I’m grateful for the visually responsive listeners who encourage by their smiles and nods (and reminded I’m a poor listener and need to improve)

If you think I make too much fun, I suggest that God himself views preaching as one of His cosmic jokes at the expense of evil. Just as we enjoy the humor when a childish remark totally dumbfounds adults, so God “laughs” when his “weak things”, “the foolishness of preaching” “confounds the wise.” This isn’t justifying poor preparation or wrong heart; it rather recognizes that only He can make something of our deeply imperfect best efforts.

So how did I do? Not as well as I wish- I’ve got a list to work on for the next sermon and God expects me to grow. But I also did better than I know, because of His grace and the power of His Spirit. And I am humbled and encouraged.

Psalms 2:4; 1 Corinthians 1:21, 27.

Imperfect Church is for 'the Empty'

Our local newspaper publishes a weekly feature titled, "What I Believe." In this February 21 article, Church is for 'the Empty', Phil Huber eloquently reminds us that...

"The church is a clinic for wounded sinners; a place of healing for those who have burned bridges and broken trust, for those who have binged on pleasure and purged on guilt; for those who feel hopeless, weary, empty and beat down. For those like me."

Picturing an Imperfect Church

What picture does “imperfect” bring to mind? A church where anything goes? A church with realistic expectations? A church down on itself? That, of course, illustrates the problem with words. Communication get complicated when a word has different meanings to different people. So we’ll need to define it, or at least put up a “straw man/church” so we can all talk about the same imperfect church!

Imperfect implies mess, and most of us don’t like it (even if we’re chronically messy). We learn to live with it in our children, but we also spend years teaching small increments of intentionality and un-messiness. Is not the church like this, too? Because we want to avoid the mess we-

• Hide the mess, often with a façade of perfection
• Get rid of messy people
• Redefine what’s a mess

What drives our reaction to mess? In our children, sometimes it’s genuine desire to help them grow; sometimes their mess is in our way and we want our way. Sometimes we’re tired and don’t want to deal with it. Similarly, in the church, there are many possible drivers.

The first is pride, an inflated view of self, forgetting that in this life we’re terminally imperfect.

The second is that we value appearance over process, so we forget the principles of progressive sanctification. The progress of others (and ourselves) doesn’t meet our “standards,” so we too little celebrate growth and display grace. It’s tough balancing standards and grace, but teetering is no reason to give up.

The third is that we forget how secure we are in God’s love. No matter how painful, no imperfection or human criticism can do eternal damage to us. Because we are secure in God’s love, we can love our sisters and brothers who may feel like enemies.

There’s a fourth, and it is that our standards are too low. We are like the patient that insists an imperfect leg is “just fine” because she can still get around on it. Just as the patient must acknowledge infirmity in order to get medical help, so we also must acknowledge spiritual infirmity to get spiritual help. And if we don’t think we need help, we need to meditate on Romans 7 and Ephesians 4.

Imperfect church calls us not to imperfect (lower) standards, but to God’s perfect standard. “Imperfect” becomes a statement of fact, not an excuse. That in turn recognizes we’re all on a level playing field, none of us better than any other, with nothing we can fully hide. We are fellow spiritual patients needing tough love and continuous grace, the imperfect ministering to the imperfect.

Clinic or Spa: Imperfect Church is for Who?

There were three of us at the southern Ohio cemetery- my sister, myself, and a relative I'll call Ted. We just buried our father, and were talking with Ted, an outgoing retired truck driver who can make you feel important and then turn angry in a heartbeat. His life was a mess and he often talked about cleaning up so he could go to church.

Like other times, my sister and I urged Ted to attend church "just as he was." Go to God and let Him clean you up. But Ted wasn't buying. Was it rejection? ("We don't accept "sinners.") Was it faulty theology? ("God only takes good people, so I've got to clean myself up first.") Was it pride? ("I can do this myself.") Was it a reaction to church hypocrisy? ("Pretending to be good, but rotten inside.") Was it all of these?

Whether due to perception or packaging, it's hard to be imperfect in church. Do we treat the church as a spiritual clinic, or a spa? Is it a runway for models "stylin' and profilin', or a treatment room for patients laid bare and vulnerable? What does it mean that Jesus fraternized with sinners (Matthew 9:10,11), and Paul was explicit about his bad past and that of the Corinthian church (1 Timothy 1:15, 1 Corinthians 6:9-11)? How can the imperfect church and this imperfect pastor reach Ted?

¹¹When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'?" ¹²On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. ¹³But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."
Matthew 9:11-13