You don’t feel ready to preach.
You desired to be more prepared, to spend much time in the text and prayer, to enter the pulpit with full health, but life had other plans. God had other plans.
The last song has started; it is nearly time for you to speak. You look around and notice a visitor. This is not usually how thin my outline is. You see a wandering sheep who chose this Sunday to return. Why didn’t he come last week? The people seem hungry; the Spirit seems present. Will you now let them down?
You ascend the pulpit. Eyes gaze up at you. And then you say it. “Good morning . . . I beg your forgiveness beforehand. My oldest son was sick all week, and I had less time to prepare than I hoped.” Or, “Good morning . . . please excuse my voice. I’m just getting over a cold.”
Is anything wrong with such remarks? Hopefully not. But that hasn’t been the case with me. I have found that we might offer excuses beforehand, not because we are full of love for God and the souls before us, but because we are too full of self. Pride makes us anxious and insecure of what they will think of us.
Now, is it always wrong to highlight obstacles you’ve faced during the week of the sermon? I doubt it. Is it always from self-love that you explain a lacking ingredient? No. I do not bring a new law, “Thou shalt never disclose setbacks.”
But is this not sometimes a whimpering, flesh-pleasing, pride-pampering, excuse-making introduction that betrays an unworthy sensitivity to what man thinks about you, your delivery, and your sermon? And wouldn’t it be more faithful and manly to simply pray that the Lord would increase his name — however much you decrease — and get straight to what God has for you to tell the people? Let each man answer for himself, but for my part, I answer yes.
What Swims Beneath
This conversation may not rise to the level of alarm for you. It may seem rather harmless either way. But when a sailor sees Leviathan surface in the distance, he is troubled not because the beast merely came up for air (as opposed to devouring a ship). He is troubled because he sees Leviathan. To rise for air is innocent enough, but what swims below destroys without warning. The apology may be meaningless, but self-importance never is. Pride is to be killed, not allowed to apologize for itself.
Making excuses for our leaner sermons is but one possible expression of being drunk on self. Shattering at negative feedback is another. Salivating after compliments still another. Richard Baxter described it:
Were it not for shame, [some preachers] could find in their hearts to ask people how they liked them, and to draw out their commendations. If they perceive that they are highly thought of, they rejoice, as having attained their end; but if they see that they are considered but weak and common men, they are displeased, as having missed the prize they had in view. (The Reformed Pastor, 126)
A man wanting to be thought great is in great danger. A high esteem of self is frightened by low opinions of others. Secret pride makes a man fragile. Such a heart is that of an actor performing before a critic, not a herald concerned with delivering his Master’s message. What would you think of this town crier?
Hear ye, hear ye, my good citizens. I have a message from the King of kings that demands closest attention. But before I deliver that which is your very life or death to receive, I want you all to know that I’ve had a stressful week, less time to polish as I’d like, and (I hate to mention it) but I’ve developed a bit of a sniffle since yesterday. Please excuse my ensuing performance. Truth be told, I have been more than a little anxious about it.
Sit that man down and get someone else to speak to the people. Such a heart would, if not rightfully ashamed, meet everyone at the door after the sermon, fishing, not for men, but for compliments and asking what they especially loved. And should anyone offer an opportunity for improvement, the man would begin to sink. Such a man is an ingrown toenail, burrowing deeper and deeper into himself. Lord, have mercy on all of us heralds.
Excusing Weakness
The apostle Paul renounced the need for head pats and belly scratches. For him, man-pleasing and ministry couldn’t coexist (Galatians 1:10). And while Paul did mention setbacks and difficulties in his ministry, he presented them altogether differently. He boasted in his weaknesses rather than angling for excuses.
Paul really was someone great; he really was that man the demons knew by name. Yet hear how he went about his business in the Lord:
If I should wish to boast, I would not be a fool, for I would be speaking the truth; but I refrain from it, so that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me. (2 Corinthians 12:6)
Paul let himself be known for his weakness because he wanted people to know God’s strength. I, on the other hand, mention my weakness only to highlight my usual strength. I don’t boast in my weakness; I explain it away. My pride wants others to know I am usually much better than this. Yet Paul hid his accomplishments and boasted in his weaknesses; he didn’t want boasting in his strengths to eclipse God’s strength. He didn’t want others to think more of him than what they saw.
Don’t Let Pride Apologize
Paul knew what it was to put confidence in the flesh and despise weakness. But it seems he quit campaigning for himself when he exchanged his righteousness for Christ’s. Remember, he was that guy all the Jewish men wanted to be before coming to Christ. But now he writes, “Whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ” (Philippians 3:7–8).
All-important me is replaced by all-worthy Christ.
Pastors, as you mount the pulpit, stand confident in Christ and don’t give any provision for the flesh. If you have no business up there, don’t be up there. But if God still calls you to preach, stand up with whatever notes, voice, or limitation you possess and herald Jesus Christ. If he wants you low, go forth on your knees. If he wants you to stumble more than usual, bless his name in that ruggedness! But don’t stoop to justify why you’re not as impressive as usual. Forget about yourself and preach the Savior to saints and lost souls, especially in weakness, for these are the times Christ’s power will best rest upon you.
Desiring God