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 The Sermon By Greg Brothers
This will be the 332nd sermon I’ve preached in this particular church. And for the 332nd time, I wonder why I’m here. It’s not enough Coming from a pair of teenagers, that’s high praise. Then too, my audience is more than just “pretty good.” No, the people in this church listen to me—and as they listen, they follow along in their Bibles. They pray for me when I stumble or search for the right word. They even remember to turn off their cell phones…most of the time. No, it’s a blessing to worship with these people—but as I stand in the pulpit, I realize how much I need a blessing in return. They look tired, many of them. They look worried. And some are in so much pain, it is all they can do to listen as I speak. See the man there? He just found out that his wife’s been having an affair. The woman behind him? She goes in for a biopsy next week. The couple on her left? They’ve not seen their daughter—their only child—in 26 years. So what do I tell these people? What makes me think my “pretty good sermon” will make a difference? It’s all I have The text is my scripture for this morning. The testimony comes from those hours of study and prayer: It is the testimony that this text speaks to others. It speaks to me. And what it says, I now share with them. When I do this, I am like a P.O.W.—like one of those pilots who are shot down, captured and then locked away in solitary confinement. No sooner do my guards close the door, however, than I hear tapping on the walls. The tapping forms letters. The letters form words. The words tell me that I am not alone, that I have friends, that whatever help they can give is mine for asking. But having heard this message, I must now pass it along to the next cell. That’s what I do on Sabbath mornings. Slowly, painfully, as best I can, I tap out a message to my people—the message I’ve heard through that text. It is the message that we are not alone. That we have a Friend. That whatever help He can give is ours for the asking. And no, I don’t always get that message across. Sometimes, I don’t hear what the text is saying. Sometimes, I don’t know how to pass it along. But until somebody else shows up, I’ll keep tapping away. That’s why I preach. |
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