embraces the numinous (pneumatic) factors. It is inspired by the Spirit. It is an invitation into the world of mystery, even as it enters into the mysteries of the human heart. To the extent that it remains in tension with the scriptures and remains consistent with the intention for which it is given, preaching employs the language of pneumatology. Indeed, in some ways this archaic discourse is consistent with what might be nominated as the “postmodern tendency” of the twenty-first century.
Concern to speak to the times and seasons prevents the preacher from becoming a ventriloquist dummy for the culture. For then the tension would be broken, forfeiting the energy and power of preaching. When the preacher acts as dummy, her lips move, but another supplies the thoughtful reflection. The word of the Lord is confused with the word of the king and the voice of the land, as in the day of Ahab and Jehosophat. Ahab refused to call Micaiah, saying he only spoke evil and never what he wanted to hear. But all the other prophets were under the spell of the lying spirit. They would send the people into a battle where God had promised no protection and victory.
The image of the ventriloquist dummy was riveted in my imagination one night while watching Ted Coppell. There was a discussion between Jesse Jackson and Jerry Falwell prior to the demise of Apartheid in South Africa. Falwell called Bishop Tutu a phony and proceeded to apologize for the regime that was in power. There was no hint on his part of a need for “Regime Change.” Interestingly enough, here were two Baptist preachers who were light-years apart in their perspectives. Jesse went for the jugular, telling Jerry he sounded like a ventriloquist dummy for Pik Botha.
Those who were raised in the church, coming up through the “cradle roll,” have heard the text read and interpreted so frequently that there is often little clue concerning where the text ends and theological construction begins. Instruction in the faith is unavoidable, and it is the proper work of every Christian community. However, theologically trained pastors and preachers have the responsibility for examining these constructions so the word can do its sanctifying work. Sometimes it is necessary to prevent the “sins of the fathers” from being passed through the generations. In less serious cases it is necessary to take seriously the inquiring mind and prevent rebellion due to false faith.
An illustration will serve well at this point. I remember being approached by a member who proudly informed me she had purchased a new Scofield bible. My response was polite at best. She insisted that I say more. What I said upset her. I see in retrospect that I may have been excessively brash, but the truth I sought to make was the same. I told her, “I wouldn’t give a dime for it.” Shocked at the impious response of the pastor, she asked why. My answer was that I prefer my bible and my commentary under separate covers. It had never occurred to her that such a bible teaches a particular theology. She, and others like her, failed to notice the line that separates scripture from the notes that accompany it. The particular theology of Cyrus Scofield, itself derived from John Nelson Darby, is effectively subsumed into the scriptural text.
The same comment may be applied to any system of knowledge in which a set of presuppositions is required to make “correct interpretations.” A catechism has its place: let it be what it is. The same principle applies to fundamentalism, scientism, historicism, liberalism, etc. Every critical discourse needs to acknowledge its catechism. The faithful dispenser needs to know these catechisms, whether they are written or oral, whether they are labeled as such or whether they are interwoven with the culture. Identification of catechisms is like the fine art of tuning out static that prevents clear communication. For the preacher, it is like standing in the counsel and knowing the difference between the conflicting noise and the certain sound.
Again, one must be careful in an environment where preaching often seeks to avoid the issues that matter. In such a place, preaching itself often doesn’t matter. One can see how that flaw was introduced into American Christianity to soften the church’s thousand-year opposition to slavery. Throughout the history of the church there have been debates over the status of servants and slaves within Christian fellowships. On the one hand, the church taught that all who believe on the Lord Jesus are baptized into one body, where there is neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female, slave nor free (Galatians 3:27–28). On the other hand, Christian slaves were taught to obey their masters (1 Timothy 6:1; 1 Peter 2:18). From the Old Testament teaching, a distinction was made between the people of the covenant and the heathens when it came to purchasing slaves (Lev 25:44–46). Manstealing was prohibited, and evangelical demands upon the church required that the gospel be spread to every creature (1 Tim 1:10; Matt 28:19; Mark 16:15. The result was ambiguity and inconsistent teaching in the matter.
In the American churches, abolitionist Christians argued that slavery in every form was inconsistent with the gospel of liberty. The response of slaveholding Christians was to deny that baptism in any way changed one’s social status, and to require Christian slaves to disclaim any intention for manumission when seeking admittance to the Table of the Lord.7
In defense of bondage, however, the church went further to argue not only a benign or permissive disposition on God’s part. The positive argument was made by many to prove that God ordained slavery, cursed the descendants of Ham (the darker races) to be slaves, and regarded as sinful disobedience any acts to be free. Some went so far as to declare that Africans devolve from a separate creation, are beasts and not men, and do not possess souls. Any mixing of the races has its origin in sin, and the quest for social equality is nothing more than an “infidel pestilence.”8
Again and again, there has been in American Christianity an uncoupling of personal and social holiness, spiritual and secular gospel. Spiritual truth was sectioned off in the regions of the heart, and business was not mixed with ethics and morality. Hence acts could be morally reprehensible, yet legal, and the church refused to speak on matters of justice. Such docetic patterns persist into the present. At the same time, preaching can be obsessed with the spatial coordinates of hell, or what color robe one wants to wear in heaven. Again, when preaching avoids the issues that matter, the preaching does not matter.
Even when the forms are taken from or suited to the younger, there is content and wisdom that must come from the elder. There can be little dispute that desperate clinging to nineteenth century forms spells the death of the church as we know it. Fewer and fewer from the current generation so much as know the traditions of the fifties, and even smaller numbers desire them. As in the days of Eli, the light in the Tabernacle in Shiloh shows signs of growing dim. Yet it is Eli who knows the voice of God. Even when the call went to Samuel, the old priest was needed to instruct him in saying yes to God. Samuel was vigorous, aggressive, and obedient to God. His works prospered at the hand of God. Wherever he went men trembled in his presence. But he became advanced in years like Eli before him. What’s more, his sons were disobedient priests who displeased God, just like the sons of Eli.
For preaching, the methodological question may be restated as a rehearsal of the conversation between God and Rebecca pending the birth of her sons. She wanted to know what was transpiring in her womb that caused such turmoil. The response of the Lord was that there were two nations within her, and the elder would serve the younger. For preaching this is crucial: either the offering will be twenty-first century, or it will be done in solitary. The question is how to preserve the timeless truth of the gospel and present it to a generation so that it can hear it.
This is utterly crucial. Knowing the issues is itself a challenge. In large measure it is how to put critical disciplines in the service of theology. It is ever so easy to grant to analysis more than servant status. Even where it un-conceals the problems and obfuscations, it does not supply the vision for the church. Whether it is Marxism, Rap, or Hip Hop it does not prophesy to set forth the reality that God is creating.
What the preacher is ever seeking is a subject-to-subject encounter in which the hearer meets God. This is the radical language of the Old Testament in the theophanies, where Moses meets God on Sinai, or Isaiah hears the voice of God in the temple. The incarnation
