The big positive purpose

Were you at church this morning?” I was on the phone with a friend.

“Yes, of course,” said my friend. “Our family never misses church.”

“So what did your pastor preach about?”

“Something in Revelation, something about three froglike spirits, I think,” she said.

“What about them?” I asked.

She paused. “I have no idea, actually,” she said finally. “Some history and scholarly stuff about what he thought they were. But it didn’t mean much to me. I get discouraged,” she added, “because we so rarely hear anything from the pulpit that really matters to our family!”

There are two issues here. One may be a fading interest in the more esoteric points of prophecy, especially if that’s the bulk of a pastor’s preaching repertoire. That’s not what was most wrong with this sermon though. The second issue includes speaking redemptively of the froglike spirits of Revelation 16—a lesson we should have learned from Bruce Wilkinson’s unpacking some amazing lessons from an obscure passage in 1 Chronicles 4.*

What was wrong with the sermon? The absence of what I call, in my sermon preparation, the big positive purpose.

Basic composition

Among the first things you learned in freshman composition was the structure of an argument. You begin with a thesis statement— “Here’s what I want to convince you of”—followed by three or four points in support of the thesis and (if required) an answer to an objection or two, then a conclusion.

That’s more or less what happens in a well-structured sermon. (It’s true that there are a few incredible preachers who break all the rules and still move people deeply. You and I, preachers of average talent, probably shouldn’t assume we can do that. Nearly every bad sermon I’ve ever heard could be improved with more attention to structure of the kind I’m describing here.)

The ladder of points can be thematic (three proofs of God’s love) or organized by the text (the meaning of the soils in the parable of the sower, or Paul’s argument about righteousness by faith in Romans 5:1–11). With this method, rarely do preachers fail to make important points, and their supportive material, coming from Scripture, remains unimpeachable.

Many preachers neglect the thesis statement: they give information without their listeners knowing quite what the preachers intend that it should mean to them.

Scripture has plenty to tickle the intellect and give us a chance to show how smart we are. With that we may interest people, but without a big positive purpose, we won’t encourage and inspire.

It would be interesting to ask the aforementioned pastor, “Why did you choose to speak about Revelation 16:13, 14?” He might say, “Because I’m preaching a series and that’s where I got to this week.” Or, “They need to know about even the abstruse points of John’s Revelation.” Or, “Because I’ve studied it a lot and have so much information on the topic.” None of these address, though, how you hope to help your listeners by speaking to them about the subject in question.

That’s because the big positive purpose is discovered neither in the text nor in the preacher, but in the people.

Both big and positive

Jesus was noted as speaking, unlike the contemporary teachers, “with authority.” He had authority, not just because He was a good exegete (though He was); the others were excellent scholars, too, but offered little useful spiritual help. Jesus’ authority came from the practical understanding He had of the needs of His listeners’ lives, which becomes so apparent in His parables. He spent time with the people, and it showed.

As I prepare a sermon, I mentally page through the concerns of my congregants. Let’s see: money (generally not enough), job (losing or miserable in), family (continual conflict, divorce, estranged child, troublesome parent), health (worrisome to terminal), happiness (spiritual disquiet to downright depressed), children (usually wanting them to grow up better and happier than the trajectory they’re on right now would portend), fear (of any of the above, plus terrorism, crime, and the stock market crashing), faith (insufficient to totally lost)—well, you get the idea.

That’s why I’m quite convinced that preaching doesn’t start in your study, but in conversations with your people. You really can’t be a good preacher unless you are first a good listener.

Good preaching encompasses the biggest needs in people’s lives. Anchored in the past, good preaching anticipates the future and always addresses people’s lives right now. That’s what makes it a big purpose.

Only a foolish minister would preach to a specific problem one person confided to them. Still, what I say, with Scripture’s help, should speak to, even if only in a general way, the heartache of the person who came to church that week having just learned that he has cancer, or that she may lose her job, or that their family may be breaking up—even if your text is about three froglike spirits.

But how?

I believe there are only two areas that qualify a preacher to speak authoritatively. I can draw on Scripture to tell people what they should do, or I can tell them what God has done and will continue to do.

Some of us have been a little better at the first than the second. Behavior is important to us; so supposing that those in our church aren’t behaving because they don’t know what to do, we tell them again and again.

Yet I only rarely talk to people who aren’t sure what is right and what is wrong; most people know but don’t have the ability or will to act on that knowledge. That’s why I believe the most important thing to preach about is what God provides— strength for living, answers to prayer, forgiveness should they fail, and eternal life when this life ends. Even what God wants us to do, which we must address as well, gets its impetus from God’s actions: God wants you to quit sinning and live right, and through Christ, He can help you to do it.

That’s why it is a positive purpose: it is not just scolding or threatening, but encouraging.

Bringing it together

You have a text. As you study the text, you’ll recall the needs of your people. To find the big purpose, you ask how the text can meet those needs. You transform it into a positive purpose by telling them what God has already provided and how they can access divine resources on tap, ready for their use.

Most often, the big positive purpose will be some formulation of hope: “Because of what I’m telling you today, you need not despair. God is good. We can trust Him. He does not deal with us in an unkind nor petulant way. He cared for our spiritual ancestors, and He will also see us through this week, on into the future, and beyond death to eternal life.”

Not every text provides such a clear, hopeful purpose between the verse number and the period. If you’re preaching through a book or using a lectionary, you may not be free to choose one that does. If a text doesn’t contain a message of hope and encouragement within it, then you must supply it from elsewhere in Scripture. No sermon should be without a big positive purpose.

Let’s go back to those three froglike spirits as an example. In the context, they represent demonic manifestations that gather people through impressive displays of power. Though in their prophetic application they haven’t yet appeared, we can explain what will happen when they do.

But if one leaves it there, the people will go home undernourished; the events of the eschaton aren’t as close to their hearts as the events of this week, and they won’t find much comfort in anticipating the end times unless you assure them that God is at work for them now. Yes, the events of prophecy will happen. But let’s not let anyone assume that expending lots of spiritual energy speculating on the events of the end times excuses a ragged spiritual life in the present.

In this phase of my study, I pin down my big positive purpose. Aren’t there many demonic manifestations in our lives now? Virtually every bad thing that happens to us results from Satan’s influence. Cancer, job insecurity, divorce—all can ultimately be traced back to Satan. Big displays of demonic power? Surely that describes the machinery of war that can kill thousands of people in a single explosion, not to mention hurricanes and earthquakes.

The three froglike spirits are also deceivers: the gullible don’t think them evil because they appear so powerful. And so we remind people that impressive displays—even miracles—alone (whether religious or secular) do not godliness make. After all, Jesus came with minimal fanfare, with no beauty that we should desire Him, and was actually despised and rejected by men (see Isaiah 53:2, 3).

Clearly, God will be proof against the three froglike spirits. Just as He was proof against Satan in the past. And even more important, He is also proof against sin and tragedy in our own lives at this moment. I can find any number of Christian victory texts to support this.

So I’ve found my big positive purpose: God is more powerful than evil. We can be neither deceived nor defeated under His care.

Testing the big positive purpose

One can’t just tack this sentence on to the sermon’s end, though, and expect it to suffice. The sermon has to be permeated with the big positive purpose. The old communication maxim “Tell them what you’re about to tell them, tell them, and then tell them what you just told them” is dead-on when it comes to the big positive purpose. A preacher can hardly convey it often enough. I communicate my big positive purpose in some form before I’m five minutes into the sermon, and periodically thereafter.

The big positive purpose tests the coherence of the sermon. As you are preparing, repeat your big positive purpose at the beginning of the sermon and at the beginning and end of every major point, and see if it makes sense. Say to yourself, “Because of this point I’ve just articulated, I understand clearly that God is more powerful than Satan: He proved it in the past, He will prove it in the future, and best of all, He proves it in your life today.”

This will seem a bit artificial, but it works. When you finally preach the sermon, you won’t necessarily leave the phrase in there. But it had better make sense should you choose to say it nearly anywhere in the sermon. If it doesn’t, you’re wandering across the thematic landscape and possibly confusing your listeners.

Being able to find and clearly state the big positive purpose isn’t the only preaching skill one needs, but I believe it is the central one. Good illustrations, clarity of expression, eye contact, and body language all contribute to an instructive and inspirational sermon. But without the big positive purpose, your sermon won’t hold together and your people will go home wondering what you preached about.

I’ll go so far as to say that if you are mediocre in the other preaching skills, but you state a clear purpose that includes both the life-encompassing (big) and life-affirming (positive) concepts, and say it often enough so that no one can miss it, you’ll give your people something worth their having come to church.