Here I sit on a Saturday night, processing all the reading I have digested over the last few days, and wondering what is it that really moves me to preach. I find myself struggling between two motivations which are as diametrically opposed as can be. One, which senses pressure from the opinions of others- the looks, the laughs, the wrinkle in the brow, and the “atta boy” when I’m finished. This pressure seems to be driven by a fear of looking or sounding uneducated, undisciplined, or lacking the necessary oration skills to deliver a sermon with any substance and staying power to the people of God. But deeper than this, if I’m really, really, honest with myself, the true pressure comes from my desire to protect my idol, which, for much of my life, has kept me afloat when times are tough, and when the pressure is on.

That idol is the satisfaction and value that I gain from having my ego stroked from either those who I have given this power to, or from my own internal sense of how well I performed. I hold out a hope that is not Jesus which will satisfy me, give me a sense of purpose, and which will validate my existence. The second motivation is fueled by a legitimate desire to see God unveiled to His people, and explained and shown beautiful to those who are not. It is driven by an intense passion to want God to get his glory and be made famous in San Diego and throughout the world. This passion is what allows me to see how futile and foolish morbid introspection can be. This motivation calls me to die to thinking positively or negatively about myself in preaching, because either way, I am thinking about me! It seems to me that the two can not, or should I say should not, co-exist. The one must necessarily dominate and replace the other. The strange truth is that both are present right now, right this moment, and both are vying for my affection and attention. Both are preaching to me right now, right this moment, and both have attractive and compelling messages that are extremely persuasive.

It is so very clear to me that I am a sinner and saint at the very same moment. I suppose such an awareness should drive me to humility with the realization that I am as flawed as they come, as weak as the next guy, and as in desperate need today for the grace of God found in Christ as I was the moment I first believed. I suspect such an awareness of his scandalous grace should also cause me to be incredibly courageous since there is something at work in and upon me which desires for my Father to be glorified above all else. This courage seems only to be shown when I think about Christ and His righteousness more frequently than I do my own finitude and frailty. I struggle to see them both simultaneously, and I struggle to remind myself they are both necessary so that my preaching resembles more of the touch of the Spirit and less of the accomplishment of my efforts. The problem is that I like the accomplishments, and I like the smiles. As much as I dislike the bondage of opinions, I inwardly seek it in various and subtle ways.

I pray that God deals with my wandering and idolatrous heart. I pray that the reality of His presence, the sobriety of His righteousness, and the heart melting truth of His grace, causes me this evening to think afresh about what God’s business is behind the pulpit. I ask the Father to grant great humility and great courage to a leaking vessel like myself. I ask that Christ is exalted in my thinking, and topples the idols which attempt to subvert him. I pray that the Spirit comes in power, even now, to stand me up straight, drive an iron rod down my spine, and grip my heart and mind so that I preach the wondrous beauty of Jesus and the horrific consequences of seeking idols to take the place that is reserved only for Christ- the throne of my heart.