(Tracy cringes at the thought of me doing a series on preaching, but oh well.  It is what pays the bills.)

Moving from Texas to Michigan was a huge change.  I was transitioning from working exclusively with youth to being “the guy.”  No longer would I be preaching whenever the pulpit minister was out of town, I was the pulpit minister.

On that drive, Tracy asked me what my biggest fear was as I shifted roles.

It did not take me long to answer her.

I told her that my biggest fear was that I would be found out to be a fraud.  That my private life would be compared against my public message and that I would be found wanting.

My fear was, and still often is, that the disconnect between the certainty of preaching and the inner struggle of my fallen humanity would become too pronounced.

I’ve fallen before.  It’s painful, brutal and hurts everyone in close proximity.

I’ve never been one to pretend that I have it all figured out, that I have all the answers, or that I’m more spiritually advanced than anyone else.

No, I’m not the most intelligent person you will ever meet.  I was on the 6 year college plan.

I’m not the most spiritual person you will ever meet.  I laugh at inappropriate humor and often feel riddled with doubts and uncertainty.

I’ve always been amazed at those who do seem to have it all together, who never struggle and have all the answers.  That is my typical experience with preachers.

(Hyperbole alert)

Growing up in the Church of Christ it seemed that there was this unspoken rule that preachers had to be perfect.  They never said “I don’t know.”

They could quote the entire Bible backward and diagram Greek.  They knew the name of all of Peter’s cousins and the addresses of where Paul stayed in his journey to Rome.

Sin, to them, was something left behind when they enrolled at Harding.  It was no longer allowed.

To be honest, and this may be a part of my Gen-X makeup, I don’t relate well to that.  I want to hear preachers say “I don’t know.”  I want them to say they struggle with the meaning and import of what they say.

Maybe I want that because it it the only way I know how to preach.

Let me be frank, the Bible bothers me.  When I open up the Word to begin the sermon prep process, I shake.

I shake because I know that I am undone and that the Scripture is going to convict me.

I know that I have to illuminate truth to people while that Truth is still working on me.  Without fail, it shows me something I don’t like.  Some part of my life that needs to be surrendered, some aspect that needs transformation.
For me, to be honest in my preaching, I must be transparent.  I must show people that the Christ is still working on me.

It may not be the safest way to go about it but, as I wrote yesterday, I don’t believe that preaching is intended to be safe.

I’m preaching on Zechariah this Sunday.  It’s Wednesday morning and I still don’t know what I am going to say.  The text is too big, too powerful, too pregnant with meaning for me to fully comprehend.

There is so much about the ideas of Covenant, Kingdom, Exile and Eschatology that I just don’t have figured out.  The message of God’s extreme patience and violent grace is too vast for me.

I will stand up on Sunday and preach from this book.  It will not be the final word on the subject.  Instead it will be an understanding of God and His word that is incomplete from a preacher who is undone and uncertain.

These feet of clay will proclaim the Rock of Truth.

This sinful heart will affirm the Grace of God.

This unfinished work will blazon the Author and Perfector.

May those who hear look beyond the imperfections of the messenger and see the beauty of The Message.