The best preachers are physicians of the heart. They have peculiar wisdom in diagnosing the soul’s ailment and prescribing the vital treatment. I long to be like that.

Spiritual Discrimination

The great soul doctors know many spiritual conditions are present in every congregation. They therefore think about different categories of hearers. William Perkins had four categories: 1) the hard heart, 2) the seeker, 3) the converted, and 4) the backslider. Charles Bridges, in his classic The Christian Ministry, was even more detailed. His first category consists of “the infidel,” a hearer impatient with all moral restraint and lives in defiance of God’s rule. Second, there are ignorant and careless listeners. These people simply don’t know or understand the gospel. The self-righteous soul occupies Bridges’ third category. Then comes the “false professor,” one who has been persuaded of the gospel, yet doesn’t embrace it in his life. Such a person, Bridges says, has “no dread of self-deception, no acquaintance with his own sinfulness, no assault from Satan, because there is no real exercise of grace, or incentive to diligence.” To these categories the old Englishmen adds the young Christian, the unestablished Christian, the backslider, and the confirmed and consistent Christian.

If you think Mr. Bridges is specific, then you ought to run down an old Tim Keller article from the Journal of Biblical Counseling titled, “A Model for Preaching (Part 2).” There the Manhattan Man offers a list of “Possible Spiritual Conditions in an Audience.” He has non-Christians, conscious unbelievers, non-church nominal Christians, church nominal Christians, awakened sinners, and apostates. He then categorizes Christians into seven groups: new believers, mature and growing Christians, the afflicted, the tempted, immature believers, the depressed, and the backslidden. And, believe it or not, he has further breakdowns in each category. So “The Afflicted” category includes the physically afflicted, the bereaved, the lonely, the persecuted/abused, the poor, and the deserted.

No wonder Keller seems to wield unusual and pointed force in his heart-searching application.

Do you have a method for wisely discriminating between hearers when you preach? If not, here’s another one that might be of great help.

A Memorable Method

Murray Capill’s excellent book The Heart is the Target: Preaching Practical Application from Every Text offers a wonderful “Spiritual Conditions Grid” for preaching to different kinds of hearers. It’s simultaneously simple and searching.

1) Those who are not going well and don’t know it. Capill says, “This is a dangerous place to be, and can be the condition of both believers and unbelievers.” These people are deceived into believing they are fine, but they don’t realize they are wretched, poor, blind, and naked (cf. Rev. 3:17). They may be smug in their unbelief, complacent in their immature faith, or wayward in their pursuit of God. Either way, they are those the preacher must shake up spiritually and call to repentance.

2) Those who are not going well and know it. Many people – Christian and non-Christian alike – will come to hear a sermon knowing their life is a spiritual train wreck. Maybe they are consciously backsliding into sin and temptation. They might truly believe, but long for God to help stifling, present unbelief. Or it may just be that they are quite young in the faith and need spiritual aid. Some unbelievers will come to the church’s gathered worship knowing they are apart from God, under His wrath, but don’t know what to do about it. Will you help them? Will you provide wise counsel and direction for their soul?

3) Those who are going well and don’t know it. We all have these, don’t we? The tenderhearted souls who constantly feel inadequate. The sensitive conscience who is inclined to undue worry, guilt, and condemnation. Capill writes, “These people need encouragement and consolation. They need the load to be lightened.” Plead with them to come to Christ’s rest and make sure you don’t tie a Pharisaically heavy load on their necks.

4) Those who are going well and know it. These are people who believe the gospel, love the Lord, and warmly respond to God’s Word. They are humble, hopeful, and grateful children of God. They come to feast upon the red meat of Scripture, so we must serve an exquisite meal of encouragement and doctrine for their pilgrim way.

Hit the Target

The heart is the target. Let us, with the Spirit’s help, drive the arrow of God’s truth home into the souls of our people. If the arrow needs to be a flame of fire, then light it up. If it needs to be a calm balm of comfort, let it soar. Know the diversity of conditions ordinarily present in your flock. Do the hard work of putting the text into their respective conditions and you’ll find God’s truth stinging and singing.

I’m working my way through Murray Capill’s The Heart is the Target: Preaching Practical Application from Every Text and it is good. Really good.

Purposeful Application

One excellent point he makes is on the various purposes Scripture gives for Scripture. For example, notice the diverse aims God’s word has for itself according to these verses:

• “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness.” (2 Tim. 3:16)
  
• “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching.” (2 Tim. 4:2)
• “On the other hand, the one who prophesies speaks to people for their upbuilding and encouragement and consolation.” (1 Cor. 14:3)
• “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” (Rom. 15:4)
• “What then shall we say? That the law is sin? By no means! Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. For I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, ‘You shall not covet'” (Rom. 7:7).
• “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” (Heb. 4:12-13)
  
• “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life.” (1 John 5:13)

These various purposes give preachers a variety of ways to apply God’s word. Capill summarizes them under four headings:

1. Teaching the truth and rebuking false doctrine. (Teaching/rebuking)
2. Training believers in godly living and correcting wrong patters of behavior. (Training/Correcting)
3. Testing the state of people’s hearts and bringing conviction of sin. (Testing/Convicting)
4. Encouraging and exhorting people according to their particular needs. (Encouraging/exhorting)

“So we can ask of any text, ‘What is this text doing?’ Is it teaching, training, rebuking, warning, convicting, testing, comforting, encouraging, strengthening? What teaching is given, what warnings are sounded, what tests are suggesting, what encouragements are provided?” (72)

Questions to Guide Your Way

Sermons that “sting and sing” – a delightful little phrase from Murray – are those whose tone and application stick with the applicational tone of the text. To help preachers discover this Murray offers the following questions as a guide in sermon preparation, particularly in preparing heart-searching application:¹

Main question: What is this text doing?

1. Is it teaching?
   – What truths are taught?
   – What errors should be opposed?
   – What teaching should I give?
2. Is it training?
   – What behavior is called for?
   – What wrongs ways of conduct need correcting?
   – What “how to” and “how not to” application is called for?
3. Is it testing?
   – Does the text suggest tests against which we should measure ourselves?
   – In what ways does the text convict us of sin?
4. It is exhorting?
   – What exhortations are given?
   – What encouragements are given?
   – How does this text spur us on?

If you are in the final stages of a sermon for this weekend try Murray’s little grid on for size, it surely will help. Or maybe your sermon is stuck in an applicational rut? Give your message fresh purpose so it may appropriately sting and sing this coming Lord’s Day.

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Mark Twain once wrote to a student, “When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don’t mean utterly, but kill most of them—then the rest will be valuable.”

Now, I’m not one to argue with good Mr. Clemens (Twain’s real name), for he is right on the whole. Yet, there are indeed times when adjectives are not only useful, but vital. For instance, it’s a glorious thing to be called a preacher, but what kind of preacher do you want to be? This is where modern man’s adjectival tendencies can help.

WHAT KIND OF PREACHER ARE YOU?

As I listen to modern evangelical sentiment I hear two dominant descriptions for good preaching; descriptions many a pastor long to embody. These are desirable at a certain level, but they are – I believe – ultimately found wanting.

“He’s an entertaining preacher.” This is good to an extent; no preacher should aspire to be boring. Yet, the preacher is not fundamentally an entertainer, he’s a herald. Piper is classic on this when he says, “Laughter seems to have replaced repentance as the goal of many preachers. Laughter means people feel good. It means they like you, it means you have moved them. It means you have some measure of power. It seems to have all the marks of successful communication – if the depth of sin and the holiness of God and the danger of hell and need for broken hearts is left out of account.” “Entertaining” is normally synonymous with humor-filled, anecdote-saturated sermons. Comedians and thespians are entertainers, we preachers are not.

“He’s an authentic preacher.” Amen, let’s be authentic. Hypocrisy has no place at the sacred desk. My problem, generally, with this moniker is that by “authentic” most people seem to mean “he’s honest about his struggles.” I have many thoughts on this matter and might write more about it one day, but for now I must simply say the pulpit is not the pastor’s confessional. To ordinarily use the sermon as an occasion to reveal your brokenness can be wise. But it seems to be more often, unintentionally so, a way to put the messenger – not the message – in the spotlight.

If these two popular advertisements are not ideal, what heraldic description should we preachers desire? Many possibilities exist, but let me suggest one worth your consideration: “He’s a weighty preacher.”

How often do you hear preachers celebrated for their spiritual, sermonic girth?

SPIRITUAL WEIGHT-LIFTERS

Now I have heard, on occasion, a man described as being “a deep preacher.” While, on the face of it, “deep” seems akin to “weighty,” I don’t think they are actually close in meaning. In my experience “deep” preaching is normally layman’s code for, “That preacher, he’s really smart.” Preachers ought to be smart, but “smart” isn’t the adjective we want to reign supreme.

But “weighty”? That’s a word we ought want to fly over our preaching. Weighty means much more than “smart,” “erudite,” or “profound,” what people usually associate with “deep” preachers. “Weighty” is a God-praising, Christ-exalting, and Spirit-empowered adjective. Here’s why I feel I can say that with such certainty: our God is consumed with weight. Any Hebrew 101 student can tell you the Hebrew word for “glory” is kabod. And what does kabod literally mean? You got it; “weight.” Like Jonathan Edwards said, God’s glory is the weight of all that He is, the fullness of his understanding, virtue, and happiness.

So then, weighty preaching is glory-filled preaching.

Have you ever walked away from a sermon feeling the majesty of God and magnificence of Jesus  p r e s s i n g  on your soul? If so, you’ve sat under weighty preaching.

The preaching event, and I mean this reverently, is not unlike spiritual weight-lifting. A preacher is like a personal trainer who puts weights in the hands of his trainees. In this analogy weight isn’t a barbell packed with 45lb. plates, it’s the fullness of God – which comes through His word and spirit. And the trainee is a church member who, with the preacher’s help, finds his or her spiritual strength increasing over time. The preaching event is spiritual weight-lifting.

All this to say, just like a weightlifter experiences the heaviness of a squat or bench press, weighty preaching is something a congregation feels. And that happens when the following two things are true about a preacher and his sermon.

IT’S A WEIGHTY FEELING

His matter is weighty. Oh, how I wish we could take this for granted! But we dare not. Wherever the text is in sacred Scripture, it is part of the unsearchable riches of Christ. It has been breathed out by God for the exaltation of His name and the edification of His people. God’s truth is happily heavy. Every word of it. Our sermons then must reflect this in their matter. We don’t enshroud the weighty word of God with an airy atmosphere of light anecdotalism. We trim off sermonic fat in order to give ’em red meat for their soul.

And that which is heavy must be handled is a specific way. Here then is the second thing essential to weighty preaching.

His manner is weighty. The enemy of weightiness, clearly, is lightness. The people of God will never feel the weight of God if the preacher floats around like a leaf during delivery. We are heralds of the Holy, not simple hucksters of the happy. Let us be men rooted in reverence and full of fear – the soul-gripping, heart-panting fear of God. In our ascent to the sacred desk may we be like Moses in his descent from the sacred mountain: aglow with the glory of God.

So, yes, strive to be engaging and authentic in your preaching. But strive ever more for the weight of God to mark your matter and manner in preaching.

Our God is a consuming fire and He wants His shepherds to preach as those consumed . . . consumed with His glory. He wants weighty preachers. May He makes us all into such men.

Back in 2009 I came across this blog post on Reformation 21 from Sean Lucas commending the ministry of Tony Merida, particularly his book on homiletics, Faithful Preaching: Declaring Scripture with Responsibility, Passion, and Authenticity.

I soon purchased the book, read it, and my preaching has never been the same.

THE BIG IDEA IN EDWARDS      

Faithful Preaching contains no small number of useful takeaways. Clarity and practicality bleed through on every page. But the paradigm shaping moment, for me, came in his chapter on unifying the redemptive theme of every sermon. There he says every message should have a “Main Point of the Text (M.P.T.)” and “Main Point of the Sermon (M.P.S).”

Now, an emphasis on “big idea” sermons of course isn’t unique to Merida. My early pastoral years were spent on staff at a church influenced by Andy Stanley and other church-growth practitioners. In Communicating for a Change Stanley and Jones say every successful sermon will be a “one point sermon.” But the rub for me was how pragmatic the tone felt. “Do this,” the popular teaching seemed to say, “and your sermons will reach today’s listener.” So I did what many prideful young pastors have done throughout the centuries, eschewed the teaching wholesale.

Eventually, at a time when the church-growth influences were sapping my soul’s joy in ministry, I discovered the preaching of Jonathan Edwards. It didn’t take for me to realize his model of preaching, quintessentially “Puritan” in its method, was something like old-school Big Idea Preaching. Maybe there was something after all to Stanley’s belief that sermons should only have one point. I saw that Edwards’ sermons offered one main “doctrine,” which we might anachronistically call a main point. And so it was in God’s kind providence the New England man and his Puritan forebears served as plowmen for my ministry, tilling the soil for convictions soon to grow.

One could say, “What Edwards planted and the Puritans watered, God grew through Merida.”

MAIN POINT INSTRUCTION

When Faithful Preaching arrived I believed having a unifying idea/sentence/point to every sermon was the right way to go, I just didn’t know how to do it. Merida thankfully cut through the morass of my mind with his M.P.T. & M.P.S. scheme.

Merida says, “Two essential stages are involved in unifying the theme of an expository sermon. We should first identify the main point of the text (M.P.T.). The M.P.T. is determined through careful exegesis of the selected passage. Next, we should develop the main point of the sermon (M.P.S.) – in view of the redemptive elements in the text and our particular audience and occasion.”

The M.P.T. is a past tense statement about what the text meant in its historical context. Merida says there are five reasons to use a M.P.T.:

1. To preach with authority you need to know first what God intended to say in a particular text.
2. Interpreting the selected text and stating it in a sentence is often the hardest part of preparing an expository sermon.
3. Until the main idea has been identified you cannot develop the sermon.
4. Most pastors are very busy. If you can determine the main point of the text early in the week, then it will help with the development of the sermon when you have time later.
5. Pastors are often very tired and weary. Hopefully, determining the M.P.T. will be a dynamic spiritual experience. . . . it will help get the text inside of you.

The M.P.S. is a present or future tense application of the M.P.T. stated in a single sentence. Merida offers a few benefits of a M.P.S:

1. It ties us to the biblical text.
2. It provides unity to the sermon. A main point of the sermon helps us determine what to include and what to cut, in order to make it a coherent whole.
3. It provide purpose to the sermon. As expositors, we are not merely giving a historical lecture about a passage of Scripture. We intend to have people respond to the text in some way.
4. A M.P.S. with a redemptive-thrust (think Christ-centered) points the hearers to the nature and work of our glorious God.

PUT SOME HANDS AND FEET ON IT

Merida provides several examples of what this might look like in practice, here are just two of them:

MPT for Joshua 1:1-9: God encouraged Joshua to be strong and courageous in leading the Israelites into Canaan by relying on His presence and abiding upon His word.
MPT for Joshua 1:1-9: We can have strength and courage to serve God because of His presence and His abiding word.

MPT for Ephesians 4:17-24: Paul instructed the Christians in Ephesus to stop living like unbelieving Gentiles and start living out their new identity in Christ.
MPS for Ephesians 4:17-24: We are to not live like unbelievers because we are new people in Christ.

THE NECESSARY CAUTION

Any conversation about this philosophy of preaching needs to mention its greatest danger: reductionism. Our present evangelical climate is very good at reductionism. “Exhibit A” is the statement of, “It’s all about Jesus,” or, “The gospel is everything.” Such sentiments are true, but they don’t go far enough or at least as far as they could. We must ask, “Why is everything about Jesus and His gospel?” The right answer, it seems to me, is because He restores the sinner to his created purpose of communion with God. So we can easily offer big ideas that don’t always capture the whole picture.

Big idea sermons are often terrifically memorable and wonderfully cohesive, but they can also become an mere exercise in reductionism. Not every text has an irreducible minimum. We dare not fit God’s word into a straightjacket scheme.

KEEP IT SIMPLE SMARTY-PANTS

With that cautionary caveat understood it does seem, from my vantage point, big-idea preaching is the wisest way to obey the great apostle’s command, “Preach the word” (2 Tim. 4:2). That imperative has the apostolic feel of modern rhetoric’s favorite acronym – K.I.S.S – doesn’t it?

Preacher, let’s keep it simple. Let not your one point sermons smell of pragmatism, but of man who has seen the silver thread of unifying truth in every text. Let our big ideas flow from souls so saturated with the selected text that we tell our congregations the main point at the beginning and by the end they think, “Oh yeah, that’s clearly the main point.” May we preach the word with skillful simplicity.

Two weeks ago I ransacked some well-known preaching books to see what they had to say about sermon illustrations. My summary conviction was: illustrations are dangerously valuable. It’s a paradox preachers need to feel.

That sermon illustrations are valuable is a point which needs little convincing. Preachers and congregations alike know how powerful and helpful a well-timed illustration can be. When delivered rightly and thoughtfully illustrations amplify the truth of Scripture and bring it home to the hearers hearts.

Yet, I’m not sure many of us preachers give due consideration to the dangerous nature of illustration. How many stories and anecdotes can you remember from sermons of days gone by? Probably quite a few. But can you remember what given truth the illustration was illuminating? I can’t, and I’m pretty sure my experience isn’t unique. Martyn Lloyd-Jones captured this dangerous nature well when he said, “Stories and illustrations are only meant to illustrate truth, not to call attention to themselves.” He’s absolutely right, but making good on his counsel is dangerously difficult.

As I’ve thought about this dangerous value over the years I’ve settled on three cautionary statements to guide the preacher’s approach to illustration in preaching.

3 GUIDELINES AND GUARDRAILS

Don’t overillustrate. Last fall, for a seminary class on preaching, I had to review a series of sermons from several popular preachers. Among the many things that stood out to me was how many of the sermons felt bloated with illustrations. To make sure it wasn’t just my faulty perception I used an “Illustration Timer” to see how many minutes of the sermon was occupied with illustration. What I found was the average preacher was spending 45-55% of his sermon sharing stories or anecdotes. Now, I don’t think it’s wise to stipulate a certain percentage of a sermon that total illustration time can’t cross. But I think we can all agree that a 40 minute sermon ought not have 22 minutes of illustration. At that point we are asking our congregation’s soul to survive on Illustrative Cool Whip and not the red meat of God’s word.

Don’t overcomplicate. By overcomplicate I mean that our illustrations ought to get to the point clearly and quickly. It doesn’t seem wise to give a five minute story filled with many humorous – yet ultimately meaningless – puns before getting to the actual illustrative point. Such overcomplication runs the risk of overclouding not only the biblical truth to be amplified but also the illustrative connection as well. Let’s trim the illustrative fat from our stories.

This is one thing we can learn from Jesus’ tactics in illustration. His illustrations are regularly pithy and pointed. “But,” one might say, “what about the parables? Aren’t many of them examples of Jesus offering a long story to make a short, simple biblical point?” We would do well here to remember Jesus had a unique, prophecy fulfilling, purpose in teaching through parables: to harden already hard hearts (cf. Matt. 13:10-17; Mark 4:10-12; Luke 8:9-10). As our Lord said in Matthew 13:13, “This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand.”

One group of preachers I think we can glean much from on this point are the Puritans. Many people don’t realize how keen the Puritans were on illustration – plain illustration. They were masters of scattering short similes and metaphors throughout their sermons, and the simplicity never derails the exposition. I’ve spent a good portion of this year with George Swinnock and he embodies the Puritan model of plain simplicity in illustration. Spurgeon said of Swinnock, “[He] had the gift of illustration largely developed, as his works prove . . . they served his purpose, and made his teaching attractive.” Thomas Watson and Thomas Brooks are also wonderful, and probably more accessible, examples of not overcomplicating illustration.

Don’t overestimate. This one, for me at least, is the most important. We dare not overestimate the power contained in illustration. There is no inherent supernatural, soul-shaping power in our stories. But there is power in the gospel as it is the “power of God unto salvation to everyone who believes” (Rom. 1:16). There is power in every word of Scripture (2 Tim. 3:14-17) as it is “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12). We would do well to return to the apostolic model and, like Paul in 1 Corinthians 2:2-5, decide “to know nothing among our flock except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” Let us be with our people “in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and our speech and our message be not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that their faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.” Not overestimating the power of illustration is helped when we don’t underestimate the power of God’s Spirit working through God’s word.

“You are not allowed to use one-arm swimmers in a sermon,” my pastoral mentor said. I gave the only appropriate response to such a declaration, “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Sermon illustrations that have no point,” he answered. “Just like a one-arm swimmers, you are doing a lot of work and just going in a circle. Only illustrate something that needs illustrating.”

Ne’er a week goes by in sermon prep when I don’t think about one-arm swimmers. What is the proper place of illustrations in preaching? Is there any place at all?

LET THE MASTERS SPEAK

Recently, after conversing on the place of illustrations with a church member I decided to hit some influential preaching books and see what the masters say about my mentor’s conviction and the overall value of illustrations.

I know Bryan Chapell wouldn’t agree with my mentor’s one-arm swimmer sentiment. In Christ-Centered Preaching Chapell writes, “The primary purpose of illustration is not to clarify but to motivate. Preachers who fail to undersand this will assume that when the point they are making is clear, they do not need an illustration. Preachers who grasp the true power and purposes of illustration know that the most clear points often deserve the best illustrations to make the truth as significant to the hearer as it is in Scripture.” If you’ve ever heard Chapell preach you know he teaches what he practices. The good doctor loves illustrations.

In his Faithful Preaching Tony Merida “agree[s] with Chapell’s rationale” that sometimes the thing that most needs illustration is that which is clearest.

So say the captains of the “Pro One-Arm Swimmers Club.”

There are a group of professors and practitioners who commend wise use of illustrations and don’t really care about whether or not the point is already clear enough from Scripture. Haddon Robinson is one of them. He says the best illustrations “work with argument to gain acceptance.” His sentiment can be summarized as: judiciously illustrate wherever and whenever.

In his magisterial Between Two Worlds Stott is his typically – and gloriously – plain self, writing, “I cannot help agreeing that a Christian has no possible excuse for neglecting illustrations, for there is ample divine [and historical] precedent to encourage him.” Scatter ’em throughout the sermon is Stott’s standard.

I’m sure many seasoned preachers would agree with Alex Motyer who says, “Illustrations in a sermon don’t help me, and I have to keep reminding myself that they do help other people, and must therefore be thoughtfully used. When listening to a sermon, if I sense an illustration coming on, I want to call out to the preacher, ‘Yes, yes, we know all that. Please get on with the job!’ But I know that my attitude has been formed by enforced listening regularly to a (very kindly and effective) preacher who abounding in what he called ‘little stories’. . . . To tell you the truth, I have come to the conclusion that the chief usefulness of illustrations is to give our hearers a little rest!”

I couldn’t agree more with Motyer myself.

Then there are a few who seem to agree with my sagacious mentor.

A BALANCED [AND MAYBE RELUCTANT] APPROACH

In their co-authored volume Preach Mark Dever and Greg Gilbert admit that illustrations have a place, but they point out a significant problem illustration can bring. Dever recalls “hearing a sermon some years ago in which a preacher gave a ten- or fifteen-minute illustration in a half-hour sermon. In all honesty it was a good story that he told well and convincingly. I remember the details of it even now. I remember the plot line of the story. In fact, I even remember some of the names of the people involved, and that’s highly unusual for me. But here’s the rub: I could not begin to tell you the passage of Scripture this brother was preaching on, or what his points were, or the spiritual impression of the text. I don’t even remember the point he was illustrating with the story. All I remember is the story.”

What Dever is getting at is something The Doctor makes even more explicit in his timeless ruminations Preaching and Preachers. He says, “Stories and illustrations are only meant to illustrate truth, not to call attention to themselves.” Many of us are familiar with that fine line. I recently told someone I had to rewrite the end of my sermon because it concluded with an illustration that, although likely to powerfully move the congregation’s heart, wasn’t really incontrovertibly tied to the text. Should I have used it Lloyd-Jones would freely accuse me of “professionalism” and playing “the art of the harlot” for it would have paid “too much attention to, and is too much concerned about, enticing people.”

MLJ would seem to go against Chapell on this point. For Chapell says illustrations are all about “motivating” people and I think his definition of motivation is exactly what The Doctor would call enticement.

One paragraph from Lloyd-Jones on this issue is worth quoting in full:

As the result of listening to preachers for many years, preaching myself, and discussing these matters, and considering them constantly, I am prepared to go so far as to say that if you use too many illustrations in your sermon your preaching will be ineffective. To do so always means loss of tension. There is the type of preacher who after saying a few words says, ‘I remember’ – then out comes the story. Then after a few more remarks again, ‘I remember.’ This means that the theme, the thrust of the Truth, is constantly being interrupted; it becomes staccato, and in the end you feel that you have been listening to a kind of after-dinner speaker or entertainer and not to a man proclaiming a grand a glorious Truth. If such preachers become popular, and they frequently do, they are popular only in a bad sense, because they are really nothing but popular entertainers.”

Safe to say The Doctor would be against one-arm swimmers in your sermon? No doubt.

SOMETHING THAT LASTS

The final sentence in that paragraph above strikes a chord I often feel. Masters of illustration are almost invariably popular, but how many have stood the test of time? None that I know of. Rattle off the names of those preachers mightily used by God throughout the centuries and you will find many common denominators. Sparseness in illustration would be one of them.

This is not to say they would be, ipso facto, against illustration. I mean, The Prince himself gave an entire lecture extolling the virtues of “Illustration in Preaching.” But read his sermons and tell me I doubt you’d say his use of illustration looks anything like what we commonly see and hear today.

To return to where we began, “What is the proper place of illustrations in preaching?” My answer would be, “Their place is to provide an undeniably subordinate, yet colorful, hue on the truth of sacred Scripture.” So I probably stand in the strange chasm between Dever/MLJ and Motyer.

Illustrations are dangerously valuable. They can help and they can harm. Remind yourself often, there is power in the Word, not in your stories. Your people will never feel that if you don’t feel it yourself.

Pull out your sermon notes for this coming weekend and ask, “What will they remember from this sermon? My illustrations? Or the clear and bold exposition of Scripture?” It’s possible they will remember both, but with fervor and love aim for the Spirit to write God’s word, not your stories, on your congregation’s heart.