Preaching and the Church.

Mondays are my long days. I have Round Table in Preaching till noon and Church to the Reformation till five. Seven hours of class today. Sigh. Full, long, robust, and wonderful.

Classes just ended and I grabbed dinner quickly because I have a lot running through my mind and this keyboard better catch it before it all just seeps out….

This morning in my preaching class we were talking about the dynamic of "truth through personality", or the reality that God often uses a person's personality in the sermon He crafts within them. Its still truth because its based on the Word of God, but different preachers will preach it differently because they have different personalities. Makes sense, right? Well then we got into the discussion of personality. Not "truth through personality", just, well, personality. Many of my classmates were fascinated by the idea of personality in the pulpit, maybe they could even be called obsessed. The guy on my right said it is necessary, you can't be boring and preach because no one will come. So he's taking acting classes and voice lessons so that he can be a more "dynamic speaker to the glory of God". Okay. I see his point. I get it, to some extent. Another student was talking about how if you're not a southern personality you can't preach to the southerners. This was followed by, "well, I'm a fan of Mark Discoll's church. I follow Rob Bell's preaching", etc. Hmmm. I was starting to get a little disturbed by the way we were talking. I mean, we were talking about the sacrament of preaching, right? Well, not so much anymore, I suppose. I wanted to say something, but I felt intimidated because I'm a first year in a third year preaching class, I'm just auditing, I'm only 22, I'm a woman, I haven't studied as long as most of them…you name it, I thought it.

As I was walking out of the classroom and headed down the stairs, one of my classmates whispered to me, "I don't buy it either. The whole personality thing, I mean." So I took a breath of fresh air, smiled at him and said, "Yeah. Thanks."

I went to lunch, then the library for a bit and then was off to class again. Church to the Reformation, also known as the best Church history class ever, is a small class; probably only about 15 students. Today we were talking about the persecution of the early Church. I've studied them all before, you know. At Moody, I crammed all their names and famous quotes into my head and them barfed them on a test or two. I think I even got an A. But today, we talked about them. My professor didn't lecture. We talked about them. We watched a video clip from the film Artificial Intelligence, in which droids are being destroyed at what is called a Flesh Fair. Apparently, droids were beginning to scare humans and so they were "killing" them. They decided to make it more fun by making a fair out of it, naming it appropriately as to celebrate true life rather than robotic creations. They would put a droid in the middle of the ring and them pull them apart or blow them up or throw rocks at them until they were no more than a heap of metal. Then the maintenance guys would come and sweep all the pieces out of the way so they could do it some more.

That happened. Not to robots, not to droids, but to one of us. Many of us, actually. Millions of our brothers and sisters in Christ have gone through heinous, chaotic deaths at the hands of those who find enjoyment and entertainment out of it. And they stood firm in the Lord. Felicity, a pregnant woman prayed that she may deliver her baby early so that the could die with her local church. Perpetua withstood the pleadings of her elderly father to recant so that she would not be ashamed before her Lord. Polykarp, upon his trial, said, "Eighty years and six my Lord has served me well. Would I deny Him now?"

I wept, friends. I wept for all that they suffered and all I have not. I wept for our Family who is persecuted today and for my life that is so contentedly complacent.

My professor passed around a box containing some coins from that era. In the box was also a ring with a cross on it. I slipped it on my finger and realized again that I am a part of a greater narrative. I remembered that the God of the martyr is my God today. I remembered that I am intricately linked to the man in the center of the amphitheater in the fifth century and the one in North Korea this moment. I remembered what an honor it is to be a part of the Church. What a privilege. And I wept again.

That was about an hour again, and tears still prick my eyes. But I have something more to say.

What were we talking about in my preaching class? What in the world possessed us to talk about ministering to the Church in such a shallow way? What the hell are we doing when we reduce the ministry of the Word to personality and acting classes? How absurd is that?!? How utterly disturbing! Have we forgotten that we are not new to this turf? This ministry is not something that must evolve with the culture but is something is we must preserve and pass down to the next generation. We are preaching Christ! Not pushing a product. Or are we? I guarantee that would not have gotten those men and women of old to lay down their lives. It's pathetic, really.

I don't buy it.

I hope your here your heart says, "Yeah. Thanks".