Preaching to the Preacher

You’ve all heard the old adage “preaching to the choir,” and I doubt it needs an explanation. But I don’t buy the premise of this familiar saying. No one has it all figured out; no one couldn’t use a little sharpening and refinement; no one is beyond growth and discipleship. Even the choir…and especially the preacher!

One beautifully tragic aspect of working on and delivering sermons each week is that those sermons work on and get delivered to me a dozen times before they ever make it into the pulpit or podcast. I generally have 2 or 3 sermons mulling around in my head at a time, but that means those ideas keep showing up in my own life in conveniently convicting ways throughout the sermon preparation process.

And I’m glad that this is the case. I’m glad these sermons get lived before spoken. I’m glad I’m preaching to myself before I ever preach to the congregation. It holds me accountable to actually practicing what I preach.

Take, for example, my upcoming Advent sermon series, where I’ll be exploring the four traditional Advent themes: hope, peace, joy, and love. I know all these sermons are coming down the pike, and I’m working on them all simultaneously, so these themes keep coming to my mind and working on my heart.

As doubt and despair creeps into my heart about my effectiveness in ministry, I’m comforted by the hopefulness that arises in the incarnation of Jesus. If Jesus really is the Hope of the World, then why would I bother with hopelessness?

As I find myself impatient with my kids or angry with other drivers, my mind floods with the challenge to be peaceful in an impatient, stressful, anxious, and angry world. If Jesus is really the Prince of Peace, then my prayer is for him to fill me with a peace that truly passes understanding.

I need this Advent season. I need these themes to preach to me as I prepare to preach them. Advent is such a powerfully practical season of the year, and my prayer for myself and you all is that this month of mindfulness would transform us as individuals, families, and as a church. I pray that these themes—hope, peace, joy, and love—wouldn’t just be nice Christmas-y ideas, but would sink deep into our bones and become central to who we are.

A Few Thoughts After Pittsburgh

[an open letter to my faith community, whom I love dearly]

I’m not a fearful person by nature. I don’t worry too much; I don’t assume the worst; and I rarely look over my shoulder. And this week’s shooting in the Pittsburgh synagogue won’t change that—it won’t have me worried about something similar happening at our own church on a Sunday morning.

I would be lying if I told you, however, that this scenario hadn’t crossed my mind a few times during the rash of mass shootings over the last few years. I’m not losing any sleep, not afraid of such violence, and I’ll proudly and excitedly head to church each Sunday morning. But the Pittsburgh shooting happening at a place of worship has me mindful of how devastating it would be to lose 11 of you—my dearest friends and faith family. My heart breaks for the beautiful people of Tree of Life Synagogue. I can’t imagine their pain and sincerely pray that God would ease their sorrow and meet them at this time of suffering.

But, as I ponder the hypothetical idea of this sort of tragedy striking First Baptist Bozeman, I’m encouraged by an unshakable knowledge that you all would be unwaveringly faithful in the midst of such adversity. I know, without a doubt, that you’d show up for worship the next Sunday, that you’d show up for each other through love, support, and encouragement, and that you’d show up in the world as a pillar of faith, unshaken by the evil and violence of our world.

That gives me great hope for the future of the church. That gives me great pride in being your pastor. And that gives me great joy at calling you my friends and sojourners on the journey of faith. Thanks for being so incredibly faithful.

We Lost a Good One Today

After a long, beautiful, and faithful life, author/pastor/theologian Eugene Peterson passed away this morning at his home on the shores of Flathead Lake here in Montana. Peterson is the author of over 30 books on scripture, pastoral leadership, and the spiritual life, but is best-known for penning the incredibly profound Bible paraphrase, The Message. He has impacted countless people throughout his magnificent career and has left behind a beautiful library of resources to guide Christians long into the future.

And I count myself as one who has been deeply impacted by Peterson’s wisdom. The Message has been a great resource in understanding and communicating the context and relevance of scripture; many of his books have greatly altered the way I think about God, scripture, and the Christian life; and I’m especially grateful for his book, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, which has been transformative in my spiritual life for years.

But the text from Peterson that first flooded my memory when I heard the news of his passing was a piece published in Christianity Today in 1981—an article called ‘The Unbusy Pastor.’ I providentially stumbled upon these words just days after becoming the pastor at FBC, and his thoughts have been my constant guide for the past three years.

In the article, Peterson discourages pastors from finding their worth in the idolatry of busyness. We love being busy—the vain adrenaline of being needed. Or, as Peterson argues, we allow busyness to happen to us because we are too unfocused or spineless to say no that which God has not called us, so we can say yes to our true pastoral calling.

But the part of the article that is most helpful are the three outcomes of an ‘unbusy life’: a life of prayer, the ability to actually preach and not just deliver sermons, and the time to be a pastor who really listens. Peterson says:

“I want to be a pastor who prays. I don't want to live as a parasite on the first-hand spiritual life of others, but to be personally involved with all my senses, tasting and seeing that the Lord is good.”

“I want to be a pastor who preaches. I want the people who come to worship in my congregation each Sunday to hear the Word of God preached in such a way that they hear its distinctive note of authority as God's Word, and to know that their own lives are being addressed on their home territory.”

“I want to be a pastor who listens. The question I put to myself is not ‘How many people have you spoken to about Christ this week?’ but ‘How many people have you listened to in Christ this week?’”

And I want these things too…so Peterson’s words are deeply profound and continue to ring in my heart and soul as I seek to pastor well. Thank you, Eugene, for being a mentor from afar. Thank you for your constant and unending faithfulness. Thank you for your wisdom and insight. Thank you for leaving a great legacy for the next generation of pastors, leaders, and Christ-followers. You will be missed.