I usually don’t get nervous before I preach. That’s reserved for Saturday and for an annoying ritual I usually have to through when I wake up on Sunday morning. But that’s another story.

Yesterday, however, I was nervous. Maybe is was because of me proclaiming MLK as a personal hero or use of such terms as “state-sanctioned execution and of the prison industrial complex.” Maybe it was because of my reference to fighting the terrorism in our own hearts.

Whatever the case, I was nervous. Whenever I get too close to laying everything on the table I get the heebie-jeebies.

Very rarely do I get complaints about my sermons. I’m not sure why that is: maybe people aren’t listening or they are largely forgettable. Or maybe I’m too diplomatic. Or that people think I’m talking to someone else.

But today, I had a dear member express concern that I would laud someone like MLK whose moral failures were so pronounced and visible. My response was that if moral perfection is what we expect of our heroes than we are being unfair to them.

Which brings me to this story: when we were making the transition from youth ministry to the pulpit, Tracy asked me what my biggest fear was. My answer was quick.

I was afraid that I would be found out to be a fraud. That the disconnect between the message and the messenger would be so great that people would fail to listen.

Because, let’s face it: my moral imperfections are many. I look back on the stupid things I have done, the idiot I was in college and wonder how I ever got to this place.

–I fight with my wife.
–I snap at my kids.
–I suffer bouts of insecurity.
–Every week I question my ability as a minister and communicator.
–I can be stand-offish and unapproachable.
–I can be grouch and curmudgeonly.
–I’ve cussed, lusted and broken a whole handful of commandments.
–I hate, rage and profane.
–I stand silent against injustice and rail against petty slights.
–I laugh at inappropriate jokes and bathroom humor.
–I feel jealous of others far too often.

Simply put, I preach Jesus but I don’t look like Him very often. I am a fraud, hypocrite, liar, huckster and charlatan.
I feign knowledge when I’m filled with doubts.
I offer counsel when I don’t know how to work out my own life.
I extol service and labor for the kingdom when I’m so incredibly lazy.

So, what does all this mean? It means that in five years I’ve learned that I would rather be real and genuine than fake moral superiority.
I’ve learned that I gravitate toward those who are broken, flawed and imperfect. MLK is one of my heroes because he continued to strive for faithfulness even when he was so very human.
I’ve learned that I don’t ever want to appear that I have it all together. I’d rather be honest with my failings because it takes the focus off of me and puts it on Christ.
I’ve learned that true, effective ministry and preaching must come from a place of humility and a profound sense of unworthiness. That no matter how hard I try, no matter how much human effort I place into the craft, I will always be found wanting.

So, if you are looking for a preacher who has it all together with all the dotted I’s and crossed T’s then I’m not your guy.
If you are looking for a preacher who falls short time and again, whose feet are made of clay and often wakes up face-deep in the mud, then I’m your guy.