Ruminating . . .

      Pastor Andy Stanley suggests that "our approach to communicating should be shaped by our goal in communicating."1 He then goes on to share his goal in preaching: "to teach people how to live a life that reflects the values, principles, and truths of the Bible. In short, my goal is change. I want them to do something different instead of just think about it."2 It is hard to argue with that goal. 

     Stanley's approach to preaching includes more of a focus on application than information, on inspiration than on explanation. He chooses texts of Scripture which he believes are applicable to life today. He also commits to answering the questions: So what? and Now what?3

     Andy Stanley is clearly a successful communicator and has done great things for the kingdom of God. His approach to preaching has been used to bless many people. I enjoy listening to his sermons and have personally learned much through him. And it is great that he has such a strong passion to see people live according to the Word of God. I guess I find myself asking a couple of questions though. 

     First of all, is change (on its own) a sufficient goal? What about mind renewal? What about an understanding of Scriptural truths? What about helping people think clearly and correctly? I imagine that one could simply say that all of these things are a necessary part of godly change. A person must know what a biblical command is if they are to begin living it out. We need to understand the Gospel if we are to put our faith in Christ. But would it be more helpful to have change and correct thinking as goals of preaching? 

     Secondly, is it correct that much talk about change leads to change? For all people? Do some people get turned off by spending large amounts of time speaking about application? Furthermore, can information lead to a renewed lifestyle as well? Won't being taught that eating six Big Macs a day significantly increases my chance of a heart attack help at least some people change their eating habits? 

     I guess I find myself siding with Stanley in a significant way. I like to drive at a main to do in a sermon. And he does this very well. I also want to make sure that I'm adding to my hearer's understanding (not that Stanley does not do this - it is just not his main goal). With this in mind, I would prefer to have at least two main goals in sermon preparation and delivery: change and understanding. 

1. Andy Stanley, Communicating for a Change. (U. S. A.: Multnomah Books, 2006), p. 93.

2. Andy Stanley, Communicating for a Change. (U. S. A.: Multnomah Books, 2006), p. 95.

3.  See Andy Stanley, Communicating for a Change. (U. S. A.: Multnomah Books, 2006), pp. 95-98.

Worth Reflecting On . . .

      The following incident from the life of George Muller is related by a Mr. Inglis, who heard the story from the captain of the ship with whom Muller prayed.

When I first came to America, thirty-one years ago[,] I crossed the Atlantic with the captain of a steamer who was one of the most devoted men I ever knew, and when we were off the banks of Newfoundland he said to me: Mr. Inglis, the last time I crossed here, five weeks ago, one of the most extraordinary things happened which, has completely revolutionized the whole of my Christian life. Up to that time I was one of your ordinary Christians. We had a man of God on board, George Muller, of Bristol. I had been on that bridge for twenty-two hours and never left it. I was startled by someone tapping me on the shoulder. It was George Muller: "Captain," he said, "I have come to tell you that I must be in Quebec on Saturday afternoon." This was Wednesday. "It is impossible," I said. "Very well, if your ship can't take me, God will find some other means of locomotion to take me. I have never broken an engagement in fifty-seven years." "I would willingly help you. How can I? I am helpless." "Let us go down to the chart room and pray." I looked at that man of God, and I thought to myself: what lunatic asylum could that man have come from? I never heard of such a thing. "Mr. Muller," I said, "do you know how dense the fog is?" "No," he replied, "my eye is not on the density of the fog, but on the living God who controls every circumstance of my life." He got down on his knees and prayed one of the most simple prayers. I muttered to myself: "That would suit a children's class where the children were not more than eight or nine years old." The burden of his prayer was something like this: "O Lord, if it is consistent with Thy will, please remove this fog in five minutes. You know the engagement you made for me in Quebec Saturday. I believe it is your will." When he finished[,] I was going to pray, but he put his hand on my shoulder and told me not to pray. "First, you do not believe He will; and second[,] I believe He has. And there is no need whatever for you to pray about it." I looked at him, and George Muller said, "Captain. I have known my Lord for fifty-seven years, and there has never been a single day that I have failed to gain an audience with the King. Get up, captain, and open the door, and you will find the fog is gone." I got up, and the fog was gone! You tell that to some people of a scientific turn of mind, and they will say, "That is not according to natural laws." No, it is according to spiritual laws. The God with whom we have to do is omnipotent. Hold on to God's omnipotence. Ask believingly. On Saturday afternoon, I may add, George Muller was there on time.

Quoted from Rob Reimer, Deep Faith. (Franklin: Carpenter's Son, 2017), pp. 47-48.