J.S. Park

Relatability Doesn't Mean Lukewarm Living

I know there’s a moment when the preacher says something you can relate to — “Maybe you’re the guy struggling today with porn, drugs, drinking, punching small animals, and racing police officers, and you hate evangelism and Bible-reading and prayer just as much as I do!” —

— so we totally nod along, BUT: relatability is not an excuse for lukewarm living.  It’s not permission to sit on the sidelines. 

A sigh of relief is not a sigh of excuse.

On one end, guilt-fear-and-shame are lazy preacher tactics that cripple us into fear-based faith, which isn’t sustainable.  Guilt has me staring at me.  But on the other end, half a grace has me staring right through God.

Sometimes what we perceive as grace is really watered-down reactionary Gospel, or it’s the preacher simply having a catharsis of his own demons to feel better about his past.

So we wouldn’t want half a grace.

Half-a-gospel offers a “better life” but neglects our struggle against the devil and the dark — a discount flea market God like a doting grandfather who handwaves your hurt.  It leaves out spiritual warfare, deception, worldliness, and prideful rebellion: all the things that hurt you.

I’m not saying we need sackcloth and ashes and to tear our robes.  It doesn’t help to accuse the lukewarm of being lukewarm.  I’m saying: We are in constant battle, and grace is just as much our haven of rest as it is our resolve to fight.

Faith is a process, yes — but it’s in the process where the grace invades, so we need to start.  We need grace for the continued diligence and vigilance to persevere: so please, jump on.

The preacher’s job by the Holy Spirit is to set you free towards grace to an empowered, fruitful, passionate, fully forgiven life.

It is NOT to enable your affair, our lack of care for the poor, our aversion to serving, or our self-reliance.  Please don’t mistake grace for enabling, entitlement, or halfway hearts.

Jesus sets you free for a wild, dangerous, painful journey that is not safe nor sterile — but it is joyful and good.  

This is not easy: but this is a good deal.

I know this faith-journey will always be a huge struggle.  We will wrestle in faith all the way to glory.  We will not get it right a lot of the time, and any act of righteousness will be a miracle.  So then: this must have us wanting more grace, and not less.  It must leave us desperate for more of God’s surgical love, and not pampering.  It must keep us anchored to Him, however imperfectly.

It’s a great thing when the preacher can relate to us — and it’s an even greater victory when we see a vision beyond it, when we join together as the kind of body that we never could’ve imagined but that God has always dreamed us to be. 

Dear friends: We will be assaulted and we will sometimes fail.  It’s okay.  But do not deceive yourselves to settle for less. Get up, go again.  I’m with you, I love you, and I have hope for our generation. 

Fight with passion. 

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

— 2 Timothy 4:7

 

“If you have really handed yourself over to Him, it must follow that you are trying to obey Him. But trying in a new way, a less worried way. Not doing these things in order to be saved, but because He has begun to save you already. Not hoping to get to Heaven as a reward for your actions, but inevitably wanting to act in a certain way because a first faint gleam of Heaven is already inside you.”

— C.S. Lewis

— J.S.

Jon Acuff: 7 signs a sermon is almost over

By the very funny Jon Acuff, writer of Stuff Christians Like.

Absolutely hilarious and true.

7 signs a sermon is almost over —

1. “In closing…”

This is an old school sermon ender. When you hear this phrase, you’ve got about 7 minutes left.

2. “If I could leave you with one thing today…”

When I hear this, I kick everything else out of my head and laser focus. The “one thing” approach is like a grenade of knowledge that is about to be dropped.

3. “As we’re wrapping up…”

Technically, not accurate, since only the pastor should be wrapping up. Hopefully, the crowd isn’t zipping up Bibles or gathering stuff while he’s trying to close the sermon. That’s distracting.

4. The band starts to materialize like musical mist.

Wait a second, is that a guitar player slowly creeping onto the stage all quiet-like? Did the drummer just arise out of the floor to sit behind his kit?

5. The pastor closes his Bible.

Class is over. We took a good look at the good book and now we’re done.

6. The pastor sneaks a peek at the clock and gets nervous.

I’m not a pastor, but occasionally you’ll see me do this when I’m speaking. A lot of churches have clocks on the back walls indicating how much time you have to speak. And they count backwards. When you go over your time they start flashing red. If you ever see a pastor look up, as if to the heavens, and get “insta-sweaty,” it’s because he’s way behind.

7. They start talking faster.

I have two talking speeds–fast and wicked fast. If I realize I’m out of time, but still have 2 main points to share, I speed up. Like a ninja. Or a cheetah. Or a ninja cheetah, the fastest of all martial arts jungle cats.

Those are the signs a sermon is about to end. If, on the other hand, a pastor takes his coat off, removes his watch or says, “Today I want to talk about …” forget it, that sermon is nowhere near over.

Seven Things I Learned From Being A Sermon Junkie

With the prevalence of sermon podcasts and the free access to millions of hours of teaching and preaching, we need some practical discernment in how to listen.

I listen to about ten to twelve hours of sermons per week, sometimes twenty. That’s not to brag, as you’ll soon see. I’ve learned some things from being a so-called sermon junkie. Some good, some pretty bad.

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Excerpt from the post:

1) Listening to certain sermon podcasts is NOT a badge of authenticity.

2) It’s possible to listen to hundreds of sermons without a single ounce of transformation.

3) Famous preachers can easily spoil me about what I expect from a sermon and a church.

4) Every single pastor’s default setting is legalism, so listen with discernment and remember Jesus.

5) I can disagree with certain points without yelling accusations of heresy, blasphemy, and apostasy.

6) With the right heart and humility, you can really grow from sermon podcasts.

7) After a while, you really learn to love these people.

Awkward Theological Moments: The Difference Between a Speech And a Sermon

One time after guest preaching at a Friday night service, someone sauntered up, shook my hand with both of his, and said with all sincerity, “That was a great speech.” On some level I knew he was a baby Christian, but on a deeper level I knew I had failed my task.

When we teach or preach or listen to a sermon, it is absolutely difficult not to view it as a performance or pep rally. At conferences we “grade” the speaker like an Amazon rating and consider it a badge of doctrinal authority if we download certain podcasts. People also naturally float towards charisma, adrenaline, and spiritual highs. The funny speaker is seen as the true speaker. And while humor, passion, and personality can be used to draw people in, ultimately it must be towards Jesus alone. A speech speaks on itself; a sermon points to Him.

I understand this is hard to sort out, particularly in a consumerist culture that treats even the church like winetasting. It’s a struggle for both pastors and churchgoers to draw that line. So here are three major differences between a sermon and a speech to give us discernment for both preachers and the congregation.

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God Is In Your Face: Sermon Series Through The Book of Genesis

The seven part series on the Book of Genesis is now completely posted on the podcast!

God Is In Your Face: The Metanarrative Story of God and His creation Man.
An expository series through the Book of Genesis. Featuring God, Adam and Eve, Noah, Jacob, Esau, Joseph, and Jesus.

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