Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful" (Prov. 27:6).
One morning last October Elder Bob Spangler came by my office to talk. For years I've respected and appreciated the man who was both editor of Ministry and leader of the Ministerial Association. Bob told me he had a concern to share. Several people had told him they were offended by my sermon the previous summer at the Potomac camp-meeting. They were reluctant to tell me directly, perhaps afraid to wound my feelings. Bob, my true friend, didn't hesitate to take that risk in order to help me.
I had been preaching under the title "Good Old Days?" analyzing why Jesus has not come. I asked the audience: "If the good old days were all that good, why are we still here? Why was God unable to use our law-abiding ancestors to give the gospel to the world?" I declared with some passion that the problem was both legalism and lack of commitment, from which we still suffer to day. "Evidence is in the ValueGenesis report, which documented the sad reality that only 29 percent of our youth in North America feel loved by the adults of the church. Jesus said that whoever is forgiven much loves much. Therefore an unloving attitude betrays a lack of appreciation for forgiveness. In other words, legalism."
What I said was valid and vital to understand. It takes both courage and grace to preach such truth. Unfortunately, I had more courage than grace that Sabbath morning. Some older members present didn't feel that I loved them, and they were hurt. Others didn't care whether I loved them or not; they were just angry that I seemed angry. And I must admit they had a point. Even though I affirmed that each passing generation had its share of faithful Calebs and Joshuas, the overall tone of my talk was strident and rebuking rather than loving and tender.
I told Bob Spangler that I deserved the criticism he heard about my sermon. My wife had already convinced me that too often when I preach my version of the straight testimony, I haven't had "tears in my voice," as Jesus did. I'm trying to change, I assured Bob, and my wife says I've made real progress recently.
Now, I don't want to go to the other extreme and become afraid to get up on my hind legs and say whatever needs to be said for the Lord. It's hard to strike a balance between being afraid to speak out and speaking out too strongly. We all find ourselves tempted at times to temper the truth, sacrificing conviction on the altar of career ambition or survival instinct. We are taught to think along political lines: Don't let your convictions get you in trouble. If somebody gets mad, you must have said the wrong thing. Keep from offending anyone, like "gentle Jesus."
Actually, Jesus was no people-pleasing pushover. He said some pretty bold things to the misguided extremists of His day. They were angry at our Lord all the time. Even His disciples were perplexed: "This is a hard saying," they complained; "who can understand it?" (John 6:60, NKJV). Christ's own neighbors tried to throw Him over the cliff when His preaching offended their righteousness.
Whatever the political cost, the Good Shepherd spoke up for His sheep. Sad to say, we often fail to follow His courageous example. How many times the sheep have been scattered--new members and youth chased away from our churches--because a hireling pastor didn't defend them. I'm convinced that one of the most important pastoral duties is to deal with the wolves who ravage the sheep.
In standing up to extremists, though, we may find that we haven't been as loving and tender as we ought to be. This has been a problem for me, and I've been asking the Lord for help to overcome it. You may have noticed that my writing style has changed since my first "hot potatoes" book. I still believe every thing I wrote--now more than ever--but I try to be kinder and gentler. I've learned to depend upon my wife and several trusted friends to help me "decaffeinate" my words of any stridency or sarcasm. The editing process is a wonderful sanctifier.
Unfortunately, there are no second chances to decaffeinate a sermon once you've preached it. All you can do is apologize after the damage is done--and many times you can't even do that if you live across the country from your audience.
May the Lord have mercy. And He does. He is kind to me when I misrepresent Him and also kind to the people who misunderstand or misrepresent me. I want to reflect His love, which is the essence of keeping His commandments. Please pray that I'll have those tears in my voice when I feel compelled to talk about what few may want to hear. And when my friends have to wound me with some thing I don't want to hear, may the Lord give me grace to accept their good counsel and profit thereby.
