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One of the most interesting Facebook conversations I’ve seen in a while was sparked by Tim Keller’s lecture at the National Cathedral here in Washington, DC last November. Keller is the founding pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church (PCA) in New York City, a 5,000+ member congregation that is full of young adults, growing rapidly, and planting congregations by the dozens.Several clergy from National Capital Presbytery attended Keller’s lecture, and much Facebook-style amazement and handwringing followed. Here are some verbatim excerpts:
Clergy #1: The church breaks all the ‘conventional wisdom’ about attracting young adults in a secular urban setting: He is conservative, somewhat doctrinal, not flashy, charismatic, or contemporary. His sermons are a pretty steady diet of Reformed theology from a rather conservative perspective. But he is clear, compelling, affable and talks about the lives of real people. . .
Clergy #2: When I hear of 1,000 mostly young adults coming [to the lecture] and a church that has grown by 5,000, I keep grasping for just how that occurs. Is there something I am missing? Something the PC(USA) is missing?
Clergy #1: I wish I had insights from last night on this question. His lecture was great, but not brilliant, and he seemed nice, but not particularly charismatic. Go figure.
Reading this conversation, I couldn’t help but think of the moment in the Dr. Seuss classic How the Grinch Stole Christmas when the Grinch “stood puzzling and puzzling: ‘How could it be so? [Christmas] came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes, or bags!’” My colleagues were astonished that Keller’s prosaically packaged, theologically conservative Gospel message could have broad appeal, particularly to young people.
In a shrinking and deeply divided denomination, Presbyterians are right to wonder what is missing. They are right to wonder how preaching fits into the life of the Church, how it can effectively communicate the Gospel to the broader culture, and even how it can help to heal the rifts in our denomination.
This series of articles from PFR is designed to refocus Presbyterians on what is missing, or at least neglected, in many of our congregations: the simple and straightforward mission spelled out in the six “Great Ends of the Church.”
The first “Great End” is “the proclamation of the Gospel for the salvation of humankind.” In an economy of words rarely associated with the Book of Order, the first great end contains all we need to know about preaching in the 21st century: how, what, and why. Put another way, this piece of the Presbyterian mission statement encapsulates the method, substance, and motive for all of our communication with the culture in and around us. How should we communicate? Proclamation. What are we to communicate? The Gospel of Jesus Christ. Why do we communicate? For the salvation of humankind.
Note that the first great end of the church says nothing about the preacher, and nothing about the medium for preaching. It is easy for conversations about proclaiming the Gospel in the 21st century to focus on the ribbons and tags, boxes and bags. “How shall we package the Gospel?” is a relevant technical question about preaching, but not the paramount theological or strategic question. To find our unique raison d’être in a world full of competing voices, we need to proclaim boldly the Gospel of Jesus Christ and do so with the urgent conviction that it is for the salvation of humankind.
To unpack the first great end of the Church, I sat down with the Reverend Earl Palmer, Preaching Pastor-in-Residence at The National Presbyterian Church. Palmer is an unabashed intellectual, a prolific author, and a pastor of great stature in the PC(U.S.A.), yet I daresay he fits the description of “conservative, not flashy, charismatic, or contemporary, but clear, compelling and affable.” His ministry has helped to stabilize and reinvigorate our 2,000+ member congregation during a difficult season. When I taught a new members’ class recently, not a soul was over the age of 45 (most were in their 20’s and 30’s), but those young new members cited his preaching as a key factor in their spiritual growth and choice of a congregation.
For all those who would stay true to the core mission of the Church, the proclamation of the Gospel must be driven by the Gospel itself. Anything less is the proclamation of opinion or advice. Opinions quickly join the cacophony of other opinions in the culture, distinguishable only by the personality of the pundit or their media packaging.
The proclamation of the Gospel is substantively different. As Richard Ray reminds us, Gospel power is “a truly supernatural force. . .the immeasurable, unpredictable, uncontrollable power of God” made both intimately personal and universally accessible in “the victorious, conquering, redeeming Christ.” Scripture is authoritative because it flows from that power. Proclamation is authoritative when it relies on Scripture to speak.
That is why Earl Palmer’s cardinal rule of preaching is, “Let the text speak.” He is a longtime practitioner and advocate of expository preaching, that is, working carefully through a biblical text in each sermon, drawing out its meaning line by line. Palmer’s eyes light up when he says, “The great thing about preaching from the text is that, if you do it right, the person in the pew gets the point a split second before you make it.” They are stirred to repentance, guided in the footsteps of Jesus, or given hope because the text, which is more powerful than any preacher, gives it to them. If the preacher’s message is mainly self-referential, “You should hope because I have hope,” it may be pleasantly inspiring but it will lack transformative power.
Is there hope for this approach to proclamation in a post-modern world fixated on the question “What is your story?” rather than “What is the story?” No one tells a story better than Palmer, and so he says, “Narrative fascination is good until it becomes obsessive and vectors away from the text. It shouldn’t keep us from doing the hard work of seeing what the text is saying.” Relevant, artful proclamation can and must rely on the power of stories; but will use those stories in service to the text, rather than using the text in service to a story.
What must not be overlooked is that the first great end of the church has its own great end. The Gospel itself, and its proclamation, are for the salvation of humankind. (See not just the Book of Order, but Romans 1: 16-17 and I Corinthians 1: 17-21.) The motive of good preaching is not to fill pews and church coffers; it is to populate the communion of saints in the present and in eternity.
This may be easier to affirm on paper than to embrace in practice. Even congregations staunchly committed to biblical orthodoxy may find their comfort levels strained by frank discussion of the possibility of “perishing.” Even the most silver-tongued preacher may find his or her courage and pastoral sensitivities tested by an emphasis on “the proclamation of the Gospel for the salvation of humankind,” as opposed to the more conventional and comfortable task of proclaiming the Gospel for the edification of the faithful. Speaking the truth in love is always a balancing act, and the first great end of the church does not abrogate our responsibility to speak the truth in love.
In any case, a genuine embrace of the first great end of the church will require every congregation to abandon any trace of withdrawal from the world. One cannot proclaim the Gospel which is the power for salvation to those whom one avoids. Likewise, a genuine embrace of the first great end of the church will call every Christian to abandon any trace of shame about the Gospel.
Providentially, we rely not on our own strength to meet such Herculean demands of honesty and courage, but on God who is able to strengthen us according to the Gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ (Romans 16:25).