Over the weekend I said goodbye to a friend with which I had become unusually close named Mark. The gospel of Mark that is.

For 315 days his account of Jesus’ life and ministry occupied my thinking in all manner of ways. Sometimes I could have exploded in joy at the discoveries of Mark’s unique portrayal of Christ. Other times I nearly cried out in frustration, wanting the earliest gospel writer to give me more on a particular topic. But overall, I have deep gratitude for Mark. What clarity he gives us about Christ! Is there anything more valuable in a friendship?

In eighteen months of church planting we have preached through 1 Timothy, Ruth, Haggai, and Mark. Yet, for some reason saying goodbye to Mark has affected me in ways I couldn’t put into words.

Until yesterday.

EXPOSITION AS THE MINISTRY OF ETERNITY

On the way home from picking my wife up at the airport¹ I realized just what was pricking my soul: I probably will never preach on Mark again. Sure, I may preach a sermon here or there on a particular passage, but I would be quite surprised if I walk through the whole book again. The finality of it all is quite saddening, but oh so useful.

For I have uncovered what is, at least for me, yet another benefit of systematic exposition: it is a powerful reminder of death. Realizing that you may never preach through the book again, never get a chance to do it over and improve it, helps a man learn to number his days and get a heart of wisdom (Ps. 90:12). It helps the preacher minister God’s eternal word with the weight of eternity on his heart. Such a lesson couldn’t have been learned anywhere else than befriending God’s word.

Mark has been a wonderful friend. If you haven’t gotten to know him well, I commend him to you with the highest regards. He will teach, warn, and encourage you in unexpectedly glorious ways.

—————————————————————————————————————

Last year I said one of the most difficult distinctions in preaching is the one between preaching among the congregation not just at the congregation. Earlier this month I offered up another vital nuance: preaching in the text not merely about the text.

Today I want to highlight another one. You gotta love precision.

The Framian perspectivalists might smell something here, but rest assured I have no intention of turning these distinctions into some homiletical triad. If you can do it, I’m all ears.

Here then is the distinction I want to briefly consider today: preaching from your experience versus preaching about your experience.

DANGER LURKS AROUND THE CORNER

A tweet by Piper actually stirred up my thinking on this issue. He wrote,

Amen. Nothing will teach a man to preach like the experience of cross-bearing. Sorrows will bend and break the preacher in ways no techniques of homiletics can. Lord willing, those formations of experience create Christlike pulpiteers.

But we need to recognize that experience is a dangerous thing when it comes to preaching. In an evangelical culture that craves authenticity, preachers will be tempted to include many personal anecdotes to connect with a congregation. Over and over, we are told, “You must be transparent. Transparency moves.” And they are right, it does move! Yet, we are preachers of the word, not self. Too many personal illustrations will lead a discerning hearer to say, “It seemed like there was more of Preacher in that sermon than Jesus.”

One of my favorite preachers growing up, who is still extremely popular, often gave sermons which felt like “The Story Factory.” His strength of illustration was, and is, astounding. To his credit, every illustration clearly illuminated biblical truth. However, as I matured what I craved was not hearing his personal experiences, but hearing a word-saturated sermon empowered by cross-shaped experience.

We need pastors who preach from their experience not just about their experience.

HUMBLE EXPERIENTIAL PREACHING

Here’s what I am trying to get at. Faithful preachers are obedient preachers. Obedient preachers are those who take up their cross and follow Christ. Such men will inevitably face hardship, pain, and suffering in the ministry. We need to let those trials function as something like sermonic seasoning. Open up a faithful preacher’s Homiletical Pantry and what should we find? Holy spices named Humility, Tenderness, Earnestness, and Reverence. Those qualities ordinarily come through Spirit-wrought experience and flavor the sermon with tasty holiness. And that, to update Mr. M’Cheyne, is what my people need most.

So how exactly does God’s mortal and pestle grind out godly sermons? Consider these examples:

• We have seen the ghastly stain of sin that still mars our heart. So when we preach on sin we do so from experiential humility.
• We have seen infants die and cancer afflict too many bodies. So when we preach on suffering we do so from experiential tenderness.
• We have seen friends and family, whom we’ve loved, dilly dally with the things of God and His gospel. So when we we call sinners to faith and repentance we do so from experiential earnestness.
• We have seen, through study, the blinding holy-love of God and the preciousness of His truth. So when we preach His word we do so from experiential reverence.

Preacher, don’t fall into the modern morass calling for sermons saturated with stories of your experience. Sprinkle them in when its wise. What’s best is saturating your sermons with the truth of God’s word falling from a soul shaped by the cross. Preach from your experience rather than about your experience.

It’s not uncommon today to find people, Christians even, who view the preaching event as a mere monologue. But faithful preaching is far from a banal harangue.

In his masterful book Between Two Worlds John Stott advocates a “silent dialogue” in preaching. He writes,

[In every sermon a] silent dialogue should be developing between the preacher and his hearers. For what he says provokes questions in their minds which he then proceeds to answer. His answer raises further questions, to which he again replies. One of the greatest gifts a preacher needs is such a sensitive understanding of people and their problems that he can anticipate their reactions to each part of his sermon and respond to them. . . . We want to provoke people to think, to answer us and argue with us in their minds, and we should maintain such a lively (though silent) dialogue with them that they find it impossible to fall asleep.

Amen. A proper “silent dialogue,” in its most basic form, anticipates the audiences struggles with the text and offers clarity from the text.

But let me take the silent dialogue further in order to ramp up the congregational conversation.

INTERROGATION, INTERROGATION

Maybe it’s because I read too many detective novels or grew up watching too many detective novels, but I love a good interrogation. I appreciate an interrogation scene with such masterful attention to nuance that falsehoods unravel in an instant. Or clarity cuts through the cloud with precision.

Faithful preachers will give such attention to nuance in pursuit of clarity as they preach. We do this by asking our congregation questions. Rhetorical, interrogative questions engage the hearer’s heart and mind, amplifying the silent dialogue, and saving Eutychus.

It’s not uncommon for me to listen to a dozen or so sermons throughout the week, from outstanding preachers no less, and the use of the interrogative seems to be heading the way of the saber-toothed tiger. In other words, it’s vanishing.

But let me offer a small attempt to save the species from extinction.

HONING YOUR QUESTIONING SKILLS

It could be that those expert preachers I listen to are, well, expert in their delivery. So forceful and attractive are their expositional skills that they need not pursue the silent dialogue to keep attention. But we lesser men need to use all the tools at our disposal and thus need to sharpen our interrogation skills.

In every text we have an abundance of opportunities to question our congregation. Sometimes those questions address objections, other times it points to common shortfalls in understanding, or they point the hearer to faithful application of the truth.

Here are a few examples, from recent sermons, of how I tried to engage my congregation in silent dialogue via interrogation:

• After reading about Jesus’ silence before Pilate I asked that age old, elementary question of, “Why?” Saying, “Why did Jesus not open His mouth?”
• When meditating on Jesus’ silence in the face of false accusation (Mark 15:5) I asked, “When was the last time your were falsely accused? What was your immediate reaction?”
• When showing how the crowd in Mark 15:12-15 call for the release of Barabbas instead of Jesus I asked, “Every day the enemy of mankind and Lord of mankind call you to follow, whom will you choose? False saviors that make promises they never can fulfill, or the Savior who Himself is the greatest promise?”
• When talking about the people’s ironic mockeries thrown at Jesus while he was on the cross (Mark 15:26-23) I asked, “Do you see here how the human heart can stand right in the face of truth and yet utterly miss the truth? Could the truth of Christ possibly be staring at you in the face tonight and yet you still miss it?”
• When explaining how the wrath of God fell on Jesus to such a degree that the land went dark for three hours (Mark 15:33) I asked, “What do you think about this wrath of God? Is it an attribute to be announced and amplified? Or minimized and muted?”
• This week I, Lord willing, will preach on Joseph of Arimathea and his burial of Jesus. After explaining who Joseph was from Mark 15:42-44 I hope to say, “I wonder if any of you are quite like Joseph. Are you settled in your faith, but somewhat secret with it?”

A TOOL NOT TO BE UNDERESTIMATED

Interrogation is one of the most basic parts of human conversation. From their earliest ability to speak children ask their parents, “Why?” We preachers need to seize on this ordinarily element of humanity and employ it unto congregational engagement.

When you ascend to the sacred desk this week, reverently think about it as though you have come to the interrogation room. Question them, poke, prod, and uncover their soul so they might discover the glorious of Christ.

In his inaugural sermon at Bethlehem Baptist Church John Piper said he longed for a particular sound to mark the congregation.

If I could choose a symbolic sound that Bethlehem Baptist Church would come to be known for, you know what it would be? The swish of the pages of 500 Bibles turning simultaneously to the morning and evening texts.

When was the last time you heard such swishing of pages in a church service? I bet it’s been a  l o n g  time. The ubiquitous use of smart phones and tablets has relegated the printed Bible to a minority in corporate worship. And that’s ok. Piper would even agree.

We would do well, however, to remember why he wanted to hear the sound in the first place:

The reason [why I want the sound of swishing pages is this]: the source of my authority in this pulpit is not—as we shall soon see—my wisdom; nor is it a private revelation granted to me beyond the revelation of Scripture. My words have authority only insofar as they are the repetition, unfolding and proper application of the words of Scripture. I have authority only when I stand under authority. And our corporate symbol of that truth is the sound of your Bibles opening to the text.

Yes and amen. It’s all about authority.

But if symphonic rustling of pages belongs to an era gone by is there any contemporary replacement? Is there anything we ought to long for as a sign of where our authority in preaching lies?

HOLY BOBBLE HEADS

I would argue the best congregational sign of preacher rooted in biblical authority is in the sighting of what I like to call “holy bobble heads.” I want to see a congregation look up at the preacher and then look down at the text, look up at the preacher and then look down at the text.

It is a terrible experience to sit in the congregation and listen to the preacher’s rhetoric for twenty minutes before he summons you to look at the particular passage he is supposed to exposit. What he doesn’t realize is that, in all likelihood, he has just implicitly stated his authority lies in his rhetoric more than the theopneustos Scripture.

No, dear preacher, read your text at the beginning and never let long go by before you tell your people, “Look at verse . . .,” “Notice what happens next in . . .,” or, “See how he concludes the argument in verse . . .” Your authority is in that Holy Book, so tell them – frequently – to look down at The Book.

In his recent book Taking God At His Word Kevin DeYoung notes how the sanctified bouncing of heads is Berean movement:

When I speak at different conferences and churches, I’m often surprised how few people bother to look at their Bibles when I’m speaking. Be it laziness, forgetfulness, or something else, it’s not a good habit. I have no authority in myself. I don’t want people to just take my word for it. God’s people should be testing everything against God’s word. Whether we are the ones teaching or listening, we need to have our Bibles open like the Bereans. (75)

Preacher, you can help them be like the Bereans with consistently pointing their eyes back to your passage.

PREACHING IN AND NOT ABOUT

I’ve said before that in the delivery of preaching there is a great difference between preaching at the sheep and preaching among the sheep. Don’t you love distinctions? When done wisely they are like flint for our sermon swords. There is another distinction which lays at the heart of this issue of rooting your preaching in the authority of God’s word: we must preach in the text, not merely about the text.

You likely have experienced the distinction before. One sermon proposes to expound a passage of Scripture and says many true things about the text, but one leaves feeling the preacher invited the congregation on a holy float across the sea of Scripture. There are things surely worse than floating. Many contemporary preachers are content to sit on the sands far removed from the biblical waters. But we can and must do better than a leisurely float. We must summon our congregation through the sermon to a high-pressure, deep dive in the waters of God’s truth.

We herald the matters of life and death; so it is indeed a high-pressure endeavor. And it must also be deep. Jesus washes His church in His word by having His preachers soak their sermons in His word. Descend down to the depths of truth each week. So tell them to look down there with you!

Preach in the text, not merely about the text.

Help your people become holy bobble heads.

Give them the rich portions of His word.

And summon them to see it.