The gathering had been a spiritual feast. Those of us who were weary with the duties of ministry were revitalized by days of electrifying sermons. Those of us who were still learning about what we had been called to do sat at the feet of the best to absorb their counsel and example.
My congregation was experiencing a problem about women elders. This gathering was a welcome relief from the acrimony, lost friendships, and frayed nerves. On that night, however, I felt overwhelmed and depressed. There were very few women. Most were wives of ministers who were attending. As I looked at all the male faces around me, I wondered what I was doing there. What was my place in God's work?
Now, a woman was in the pulpit. She was rumored to be a powerful preacher. Some applauded her presence, some decried it. All of us waited eagerly to see what she would say. She caught us up in a wonderful vision. She told us, "I am not ashamed of the gospel." I can't remember many of her exact words; but I was spellbound by the picture of ministry she painted. She said God had called her to preach the gospel in all circumstances, wherever she was, whatever was happening around her or to her. She was not ashamed of the gospel. Nothing would silence her voice from preaching Christ.
It seemed like no one was breathing. We were all caught up together, unified by the breathtaking vision of what our lives could be; never-ending gospel hymns, unstoppable, resounding through the smallest events of our lives, overcoming our greatest obstacles. Even if we had no pulpit, we could preach Jesus Christ. Even if we had no homes, no families, no freedom, we were still Jesus' servants. We would preach His gospel no matter what.
Then, she came to the climax of that out standing sermon. "I don't care if I have money or not. I will still preach the gospel. I don't care if I have a home or not, I will still preach the gospel. I don't care if the world looks down on me, I am not ashamed of the gospel. I will still preach the gospel." We all rode together on the crest of that electrifying message.
Then we were shattered. There was a change. Her shout of praise and devotion wavered. She had to push herself through, for she was trying to preach in spite of tears. "I don't care if someone says I shouldn't be a preacher. I don't mind if they ordain me or not. I am not ashamed of the gospel. I will preach the gospel of Jesus Christ."
What a cry! Someone had the right perspective and was shouting it from the pulpit even though it hurt even though the repercussions might be great. Preaching Christ was what mattered above all else. Shouted through tears from that famous pulpit, in front of hundreds of our best preachers, came the truth: preaching the gospel, not preaching politics, is paramount. Keep faithful to that gospel calling no matter what.
Afterward, people buzzed about it. Her risk and its consequences came home with a vengeance. Some said, "How dare she use the pulpit to make a political statement?" Others asked, "How could she talk about ordaining women when she should have been preaching the gospel?"
The rest of us took home a bit of fire from the altar. Her words echoed in our hearts, giving us perspective and purpose. They made everything clear again. We had our marching orders from our God: "I am not ashamed of the gospel. I will preach it no matter what!"