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I love that old snapshot of grace found in Samson’s weary state after a successful fight against the Philistines. According to the Book of Judges this great hero of old, spent and frazzled following victory against overwhelming odds, sat down and cried out to Jehovah: “You have given your servant this great victory. Must I now die of thirst?” And the biblical text says that Jehovah “opened up the hollow place . . . and water came out of it.” And the great hero Samson drank deeply of God’s provision. No small wonder he named the place En Hakkore, or, The Spring of One Who Cries. When have you cried out to God of late?

This past week I had a fascinating conversation with a friend who was compelled to tell me that my sermons   were “too deep” and simply didn’t allow my friend to leave church “happy.” This, of course, is amazing to me, as I  also have folk who think my sermons  are too light and  that I tell too many stories and that I’m not a true Bible expositor. My friend was incredulous to that retort from me, and, wanting to validate her concern all the more offered that “others” agreed.

Hmmm.  

I took a week before I had the chance to respond. For whatever it is worth, this sort of thing is on the front of my mind on a daily basis, and it was very important to be thoughtful. I don’t think most people, willing as they are to Monday-morning quaterback on so many things, understand the depth to which most pastor’s are sensitive about the sanctifying, convicting, stylisitic and eternally-shaping dynamic of preaching. Frankly, I’m not sure I’m sensitive enough about it.  Nonetheless, my response may be of some interest to you, especially if you wonder to what extent a pastor’s preaching ought to be efficacious in your own life. Here are some excerpts:  

Dear Friend:

My week has been such that I’ve not been able to respond to our conversation as quickly as I might have preferred. Nonetheless, I wanted to write you and let you know that I love you and your family and appreciate your sincerity with me the other day.   

I think it will be helpful for me to share a brief story with you. I spent my years growing up in churches that did not teach the Bible. In fact, I rarely ever heard the Bible taught from the pulpit; most of my Bible preparation came from one or two godly Sunday School teachers or from my parents. The reason this is noteworthy is that when the time came for me to actually enjoy in-depth Bible teaching from a select number of preachers, I discovered it to be life-changing for me. Seeing it change me as it did, I couldn’t imagine ever settling for anything less than that again. Also, as I began to understand the reality that life is short and most of the world lives in spiritual darkness, I began to truly appreciate why the Bible says the following to preachers like me:   

“In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I give you this charge: Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction. For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.” (2 Timothy 4:1-5)   

As you can see, the Lord has placed upon me a hefty responsibility, and one shaped by the fact that he will be judging people based upon their awareness of truth. It is a responsibility that must compete with the desire of the world to minimize the force of God’s Word. And it is a responsibility that is designed to transform people—their thinking about life, about themselves, about God, about others, etc.   

My dear friend, knowing as I do the profound brokenness of so many in the Scofield family, and in the community at large, I am compelled to invite you to something that I think would be within your interest, especially being the seasoned follower of Christ that I’m sure you want to be. I want to invite you to eagerly and prayerfully look forward to messages that are deep, enriching and life-changing. While I would hope you could leave the services “happy,” I can assure you my greater goal—and the one about which I will be held accountable before God—is that you be given messages that will help you become more like Jesus. True happiness is found in that process of transformation. Anything less than that is, sadly, quite fleeting, and I fear will leave you and others unchallenged in your walk with the Most High God. Surely we Christians—you and I—would want to settle for nothing less than that.   

One more story: the night before you visited with me I returned home and found Christa sitting on our porch quite sad. I asked her what was wrong and she told me how she and my girls had gone that evening to a gathering of neighbors. As she talked with the people there, loving on them and encouraging them as she does, it became very obvious that most if not all have no relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ. That means they will have no eternal life, no forgiveness of sins, and, unless all of that changes for them, they face damnation. One of the saddest parts for me is that they probably don’t even know it, so spiritually blind they are, and so disconnected from the marvelous depth of God’s Word that we may too easily take for granted.   

In light of that reality, would you join me in relishing the best, the deepest, the most substantive expression of God’s Word? We have so very much in a world that is so very lost, and I would hate to think that we would take it for granted and want to settle for that which might not really grow us into great maturity.   

Thank you my friend. I love you, and am so grateful for you.

Matthew