Can't give what you don't have

One of the experiences I have truly relished over the past several years has been preaching at the Mission in my local community. The leadership is a bit theological diverse, as are the preaching styles. When I first started helping there I was struck by the direct in your face mode. The rawness and the volume; it was all quite intense! Sure there was a bit of a disparagement of the formal, institutional churches; some Pentecostal strains. But there was fire in that pulpit. And for me, with my Biblical studies degree and my sermon manuscripts (one has to be sure every word is just right, after all), these were the exact people I needed to be around.

I will never forget what my preaching friend Richard told me one time: "You can't give what you don't have." You cannot really preach the gospel if you have not bathed in it yourself. You cannot really tell of the love of Jesus if His love is something you have not felt. Which speaks to this rule that must undergird all of our preaching and service: we must experimentally know what it is we testify about. Our hearts must be occupied with Christ before our mouths can speak with power. 

This year I have been very blessed to read some of the works of Robert Murray M'Cheyne. Perhaps you have heard of the M'Cheyne Bible reading plan. His biography by Andrew Bonar is exceptional, but perhaps even better are his sermons which reflect this experiential love of Christ. Here is what he says about this same issue:

"The faithful minister has a present sight of Christ as his Righteousness. He is like John the Baptist. 'Seeing Jesus coming unto him, he saith, Behold the Lamb of God!' Or like Isaiah, he saw 'his glory, and spake of Him.' His own soul is ever watching at Gethsemane and at Golgotha. Oh brethren, it is thus only we can ever speak with feeling, or the power, or with truth, of the unsearchable riches of Christ! We must have the taste of the manna in our mouth, 'milk and honey under our tongue,' else we cannot tell of its sweetness. We must be drinking the living water from the smitten rock, or we cannot speak of its refreshing power. We must be hiding our guilty souls in the wounds of Jesus, or we cannot with joy speak of the peace and rest to be found there. This is the reason why unfaithful ministers are cold and barren in their labours. They speak, like Balaam, of a Saviour whose grace they do not feel. They speak, like Caiaphas, of the blood of Christ, without having felt its power to speak peace to the troubled heart. This is the reason why many good men have a barren ministry. They speak from clear head-knowledge, or from past experience, but not from a present grasp of the truth--not from a present sight of the Lamb of God. Hence their words fall like a shower of snow,--fair and beautiful, but cold and freezing."

Indeed, you can't give what you don't have. And this is an ever present warning to me and to others who are fascinated with the complexities and deeply intellectual elements of our faith. Is it all something that addresses our curiosity? Is it a mental workout, a sort of theological hobby? Is it something we do in order to show off? If so, we have missed the point entirely, and I believe our ministry will reflect this missed point. All the study and all the minutia must drive us more to the beholding of the glory of Christ in our hearts. It has to. If it does not our words will be "fair and beautiful, but cold and freezing." What a horrible irony it is to speak the words of life and know them not! To be ever analyzing about the heights of the love of God, and remain untouched by that love.

If we are going to serve Christ in these times with any measure of effectiveness, we have to ensure we possess this message. That we have tasted it, experienced it, seen it. Without it our labors will remain as our souls: cold and barren.

 

"That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life." 1 John 1:1