When I got to seminary, I bristled at the idea that we as preachers are to preach the gospel in every sermon. That sounded boring to me. And after all, how do I preach the gospel from the book of Exodus? Or Amos? People in that time hadn’t even heard the name of Jesus yet. But as you read the Bible you begin to see that it is a book about Jesus, regardless of whether He is explicitly named or not.
Preaching the gospel all the time, then, is the biblically faithful thing to do. But what about it being boring? Doesn’t it get motonomous? Jared Wilson comments on this fact, first quoting G.K. Chesterton:
“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
When we “get” the gospel for what it really is — the power to save, the most thrilling news there could be, the declaration that God’s Son died for us and then came back to life! to be the risen Lord and supreme King of the universe, not just the entry fee for heaven but the currency for all of life — we revel in the new creation it unleashes in its wake at every turn. We never get tired of hearing it. It’s the new song that never gets old. “Play it again, play it again!” we will cry.
Gospel wakened people have been given the strength enough to exult in the beautiful monotony of the gospel.
The further good news is that those who are dulled in their senses will not be further dulled by the gospel. In fact, only the gospel can deliver them from their dulled state. No amount of fog and lasers will do it.
Read the rest of Jared’s fine post here.
Thanks so much for sharing this, Michael. Hope you and the fam are doing well. I have not read Jared’s stuff before. Going to go check him out now.
See you, buddy.
You won’t be disappointed, Andy – Jared is the real deal.
i agree 100% but here is my question. well maybe two. 1. why? and 2. where in scripture is does it say that the Gospel must be presented in every teaching/sermon? i think i know the answers to these questions but i would like to hear your thoughts. thanks
This is a good and valid question, Andy. Let me try to respond:
I think both your “why” and “where” question are linked together. First, I’d acknowledge that I don’t think Scripture says explicitly that to always preach the gospel, though there are certainly exhortations to always do so.
One of my issues has been thinking that preaching the gospel in every sermon meant that I had to preach the sermon, then when there was only 5 minutes left, I had to stop everything and talk through the Roman Road. My argument was that it didn’t fit; I was talking about waiting on the Lord from the book of Psalms, but then I would make a left turn and talk about Jesus. It was just a badly put together sermon.
But then you start to realize that you never have to turn left to get to Jesus. He’s already there. Preaching the gospel in every sermon is built on the understanding that Jesus is already at the center of every story, every verse. He’s there as the main character in all of Scripture. (As a side note, I know of no better person at realizing this than Tim Keller).
Until we see Jesus at the center of every text, preaching the gospel all the time will feel forced, like we’re trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. But when we start to see Him there all along, we realize that he’s actually the round peg that fits into the hole we’re looking for.
I don’t like the idea of calling the Gospel monotonous. I smart at the idea of giving a Romans Road invitation at the end of every sermon the same as you, but if I did, I don’t think I could call it monotony.
Monotony is “wearisome sameness” or “unvarying sound.” That’s not the Gospel. The Gospel is the “polupoikilos” wisdom of God. The many-colored, varied, untold wisdom of God. We cannot fathom its height or depth or width or breadth. We cannot come to the end of it, so how could we possibly call it monotonous?
The sky is as blue now as it was 20 years ago, yet I still glory in every sun-filled day. The grass is as green now as when I first took a step in it when learning to walk, but I can’t get enough of having it between my toes. The blue sky and green grass are exactly the same, but I would challenge anyone who would call them monotonous. That is the Gospel.
As the hymn says, “I love to tell the story, for those who know it best seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest; and when in scenes of glory I sing the new, new song, ‘Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.”
I think you are learning what our seminary professors were hinting at. Every sermon always comes back to Christ, whether we would like it to or not. That is the story. He is the climax, without which nothing else makes sense.