I stood by the door, shaking hands and forcing a smile while pushing down a growing knot in the pit of my stomach. It had bombed. About twenty minutes into my sermon, the light dawned on me. I not only had nothing to say but also had emphatically repeated it at least four times.
Where were the carefully and prayerfully crafted concepts I had worked on this week? Where was the inspiration that I had breathed into this masterpiece with hours of study and research? Less than 30 minutes before, I had stood by the pulpit in prayer, pausing for a moment as the congregation prepared their hearts for a message from the Holy Spirit. I had glanced over the congregation, catching the eye of several of my elders. Eye contact was my acknowledgment of their role in intercessory prayer at this time.
I had quickly brought the sermon to a somewhat weak conclusion, given a closing prayer, and beat a retreat. Now, the pain of acknowledgment. The weak smile, the general comments, and the offhand remarks. “Nice service today, Pastor. I was blessed by that children’s story.”
As we drove home, my wife, always able to read my feelings, tried to be encouraging, but I was already wallowing in silent self-pity. Great! Lord! Thanks a lot! I thought we were supposed to be in this together! It was my understanding that this was not supposed to be a one-person exposition. Correct me if I’m wrong, but my understanding from your Word is that when I perspire, You inspire. So were you taking the day off today?
The message of God penetrates the receptive heart, no matter who is the giver or the proclaimer.
His response
It was later in prayer that the Lord answered. As usual, direct to the point and with striking clarity, the words came to my mind. My Child, this is not about you; this is about Me! I am not here to be used to bring glory to your name. You are there, in My place, to speak words from My heart. The people are not there to see and hear you; they are there to meet Me. This is not about you!
The moment of humility
It was one of those moments when one is brought face-to-face with the stark reality of the core of selfish pride of one’s own heart and stands in condemned silence. The Father was right. There had been a subtle, growing seed in my heart for several months that I was the “power in the pulpit.” My hard work of study and inspiration was paying dividends in some outstanding oratories, or so I thought. More and more, I was claiming the pulpit as my “moment to shine.” This was why I was called to the ministry. I had been gifted with the power of persuasion in the pulpit.
I sat in condemned silence; it was a moment when confession pours from a contrite heart: “I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me” (Ps. 51:3).
Show me, Lord
Later in my conversation with God, I asked, “Show me, Lord! I want to see the redeeming value of the Holy Spirit at work. Show me the transforming power of the Word, not because of me, but despite me.”
Monday morning, at a women’s study group, an amazing thing happened: women began to share about the transforming power of that sermon. My wife sat there in amazement. She thought to herself, Are we talking about the same sermon?
That following week brought a stark lesson. Throughout that week, over and over, I witnessed the transforming power of God’s Word in the hearts of those truly seeking Him. The message of God penetrates the receptive heart, no matter who is the giver or the proclaimer.
“My teaching and preaching were not with words of human wisdom that persuade people but with proof of the power that the Spirit gives. This was so that your faith would be in God’s power and not in human wisdom” (1 Cor. 2:4, 5, NCV). Are you thinking too much of yourself? Under whose power are you preaching? Maybe it’s time to ask the Lord to humble you.
