flash crash

lightningThunder: God’s way of telling you that you should have brought the washing in a bit earlier.

Lightning: God’s way of warning you that he’s about to send you a message that you should have brought the washing in a bit earlier.

Thunderbolts and lightning: God’s way of telling you to get ready to start singing about Galileo*.

There’s a little thunderstorm being hosted in the sky above our house at the moment (inconveniently interrupting my sermon preparation with a dash to get the washing in before it got drenched completely). I love thunderstorms. There is a magnificence and power that is unleashed which is inspiring. They are not to be trifled with: lightning strikes contain several hundred million volts of electricity.

Thunderstorms always bring to mind the phrase ‘the fear of the Lord’ from the Bible. Not because they scare me, but because they remind me that he is untameable, magnificent, powerful beyond my imagining. The ‘fear of God’ is not about being scared, but about recognising who He is and who were are in comparison.

If I am tempted to become too chummy and disrespectful with God the fear of God reminds me that he is the “Lord of lords and King of kings forever and ever” (cue Hallelujah chorus).

If I think that I can put him in a box marked ‘Sundays’ the fear of God reminds me that he is the Lord of eternity and time – all the days of my life are his.

If I think that sin doesn’t matter the fear of God reminds me that he takes it incredibly seriously – so much so that without Jesus it excludes us from his presence.

If I worry about things that may lie ahead of me the fear of God reminds me that if God is for me, whom shall I fear?

So, while the thunderstorm may have inconvenienced me, it has also put a healthy fear of God into me.

Be blessed, be a blessing.

*Bohemian Rhapsody!

the failing of fear

Yesterday evening a Minister friend of mine posted on Facebook about how poor their sermon had been. I felt immediate empathy for them because sermons are quite personal things, and if they are not as good as we would like there is a sense that we have let God down, the church down and ourselves down*.Nick Lear

“Communication of truth through personality” is how the 19th Century preacher Phillips Brooks described sermons. They are not:

a dry speech about a subject; an opportunity to get a few things off my chest; a collection of thoughts and ideas that I have read that week; stand up comedy routines; or even the dictated words of God.

My sermons find their origin and direction from the Bible. I believe that God’s Spirit inspired writers to record experiences of his interaction with people: not dictated verbatim but inspired in an amazing way. Poets and artists being inspired by the wonder of nature or the complexities of human emotion are a pale imitation of this, but give an idea of how an outside influence can inspire us to express ourselves.

But sermons are not just about being inspired by reading something in the Bible. If I am honest there are plenty of times when I look at the Bible and it does not make sense or seem that inspirational. Sometimes finding the truth within is hard work, requiring a lot of reading, praying, thinking, pacing, solitaire (to give the brain a rest) and then more of the same.

And because the sermon creation process is a collaborative process in which God uses my intellect, personality, experiences and context to communicate to others, it is an intensely personal experience for me when I preach. It’s almost as if I have raised an orphaned animal or bird and am sending out, setting it free, releasing it into the wild as I preach. So it matters to me whether or not I feel that it was good. I know that God speaks through the worst of sermons (I had that experience with my first ever sermon where people became Christians despite the sermon). That miracle can be a humbling experience (indeed any time God speaks through me is humbling), but that does not make me feel much better if I have bombed in my own mind and not preached as well as I wanted.

Which brings me to the bloggage title – the failing of fear. When I prepare a sermon there is rarely a sense of fear that it will come together in time for the service – I prepare well in advance. There is occasionally a sense of fear that it will not make sense to those listening as much as it does to me. There is sometimes a sense of fear that I will not have communicated as well as I want.

But for me unless there is first and foremost a fear of God, then the sermon is wasted (perhaps in both senses of the word wasted). Often when I have preached a ‘stinker’ I can trace it back to having no fear of God, no sense of the significance of what I am doing – communicating God’s truth through personality.

Fear of God is that sense of awe and wonder at who he is. It is an awareness that he gives us a glimpse of his magnificence. It is the hairs standing up on the back of the neck, shiver-down-the spine realisation that you are in the presence of the Almighty.

If I come to the sermon blasé about or overly familiar with God I am at risk of complacency about what I am about to do – communicate God’s truth to people through my personality. I will be disrespecting God and his people.

If I get to the stage where I think, “It’s only preaching” I reckon I will have lost the fear of God. I will be doing it in my own strength and it will cease to be God’s truth communicated through personality.

If I think, “I can do this on my own,” I should listen to the small voice whispering, “Go on then, I’ll be waiting for you afterwards, and I’ll make the best of what you do for the sake of those whom I love.”

If your fear of God is failing, why not try to write / draw / sculpt / sew / enact / imagine (or whatever you find easiest) a complete description of God.

[shiver goes down spine].

Be blessed, be a blessing.

The wives’ group at the vicar factory where I trained had a session that my wife attended about supporting your husband in his ministry. (The group existed even though there were women training for ministry too!) The group decided that if their husband ever preached a ‘stinker’ they could console them with these words: “It was a good text, dear.”

*insert joke about the inflatable boy here. If you don’t know it, you can find a link to the Youtube video at the end of this bloggage.