into the word.
4. Johnson, God’s Trombones, 14.
one preaching that makes the word plain
The essential nature of Christian preaching cannot be overstated, no matter how many times the articulation is made. It is God’s appointed means to proclaim redemption for the world. It has pleased God through the foolishness of preaching to save those who believe. Faith comes by hearing the word of God, but for there to be hearing, there must be a preacher. By preaching the church has lived; by preaching she is revived. Though archaic in form, no adequate replacement has been found. By now those who would embark upon such a quest should well be weary of their failed effort.
Concerns for understanding, clarity, relevance, and concreteness sound all but tautological in the matter of preaching. It is God’s address to particular human creatures, at a particular time, and under particular circumstances. This is not to say that no factors pertaining to preaching are timeless, or that one generation cannot benefit from the truth deposited in a preceding one. But it is given with the very nature of preaching that it be contemporary, relevant, and pointed accurately at the environment in which it is uttered.
Preaching makes Christ present among the people. The ether in which it thrives is the life of worship within a doxological and obedient community. It is given power by the very breath of God. It is spoken into huddled and fearful masses; it calls men and women from their idols; it encourages the faith of those who have believed; it witnesses to the work of the Father and the completion of all things in the Son that the creation may be a habitation of God in the Spirit. Indeed, one would do well to question an utterance offered as preaching if it is not fresh, relevant, and understood.
Preaching Is to Be Understood
The notion of Preaching to be Understood is probably not articulated better than in a book by James Cleland that bears that name.1 Dean of the chapel at Duke University in the sixties, he had the unenviable task of preaching to college students in a rebellious generation. But, wonder of all wonders, he was one of the few in his era who could pull off that chore—namely, filling the chapel. On the surface was the charm of a man who looked like a leprechaun, and accompanying that pose was a thick Scottish brogue. But below the surface was a notion of preaching that is all but obvious: it is to be understood. The visual image he gave to press that notion into the imagination of the developing preacher is the geometrical shape known as an ellipse.
Rather than having a center like the circle, the ellipse has two foci. One of the foci is the text of scripture, the other is the contemporary situation (or the context).2 Together they portend the circumference of the ellipse, which Cleland called the preached word. It is not to be confused with the “read word”; neither is it to be confused with the word of prophecy that comes by direct revelation. There is interpenetration between the two texts, and it occurs in the person of the preacher, who is one from among the people. By its very nature, preaching is a hermeneutical act: it translates; it makes relevant; it puts truth into context; it makes the word of God concrete.
Cleland introduced the notion of “bifocality” to describe this model. His position is that no matter where one is located along this circumference, what one has is the word. What I want to press here is how the passion to be understood translates into methodological questions in the work of exegesis. That is, how does one exegete both within tension, and with intention? This is the task to which I now want to turn with undivided attention.
Exegeting Within Tension
All reading and exegeting of scripture is within the tension of an utterance that is at once for God and for the people. Gardner Taylor makes much of the audacity of the creature to speak for God, who is everlasting, holy, the creator.3 And yet, with nothing to say for God, the preacher has nothing worth listening to as preaching. Preachers are not isolated selves, mere Cogitos who know their existence through thinking. No, preachers have feet of clay. Preachers are human, frail, and flawed. They dwell among people of unclean lips, and they know it. Preachers eat cornbread and watermelon, navy beans and rice, fried chicken and catfish, sweet potatoes and collard greens. And yet they stand in the divine counsel and tremble as they hear from heaven. Or, they proceed to speak without hearing and tremble at the prospect of their own judgment. They know the blood of the lost is required at their hands if they do not speak; and they know the hearer may well demand their blood when they do utter what God gives.
The first thing that must be said about exegeting within tension is that there is tension within the “spine” of every sermon. In this regard the sermon differs from the mere telling of a biblical story, the narrating of selected verses, or a personal testimony. Because of this tension inherent within the sermon, reflection, analysis, and design are to a sermon what the backbone is to a living creature that is able to stand up and walk. The thesis makes a claim about God from within a tradition of faith that has specific consequences for those who hear. The challenge might be the call to repent. It may be a summons to deepen faith by growing in knowledge or appropriating what is known. It may be a rebuke for disobedience, a clarification of the distinction between the word of the Lord and the word of the land. The claim may be to compel obedience and service, but the consequences are always present. The spine distributes the thought throughout the discourse, making obvious why what is said is more than the opinion of the preacher.
The tension—just as the spine does for the human body—makes the sermon a discourse toward which there cannot be indifference. By means of it a sermon can be reduced to its skeleton—its summary, its points, its moves. Tension is what makes it hold together and stick. Or, tension is what makes it “snap back,” so it can get up, go somewhere, get in the “grill,” the business, in one’s face or space. Preaching done within tension can convict, comfort, and console or it can motivate, enrage, empower, and deliver. But it should not allow for claims of misunderstanding or indifference.
The second thing that must be said about preaching within tension is that Christian preaching, without exception, is grounded in the scriptures. The scriptures are the revealed written word of God. They are given by inspiration of God for doctrine, correction, and reproof. As the writer of 2 Peter puts it, “holy men of God” were moved by the Holy Ghost to make a record of what the Spirit inspired in them (2 Pet 1:19–21). The same Spirit illumines the mind of the preacher, yet the interpretation is not a private affair. It is done within tension: there is a community of interpretation (a koinonia of the Spirit) without which this work cannot be done, and there is a witness in those who are convicted and hear what the Spirit has to say to the church.
The word spoken in preaching is brought out of the scriptures. This work, known as “exegesis,” is not to be confused with “eisigesis,” which means to read into. Eisigesis occurs when we know before we consult the scriptures, or when we know the meaning of a text before taking the time to listen to the text as a subject with integrity. There is value in bringing out all that is given in a text for the sake of knowledge. But a tension is present in the task of preaching. What is brought out of the text for the purpose of preaching has a concrete focus given by the historicity of the text and the community to which it is spoken.
A critical element of tension is to be observed at this point. It occurs at the boundary between exegetical irrelevance and eisigesis. Exegetical irrelevance goes beyond the parameters observed by the written text into detail that has no bearing on the claim being made by God or for the people of God. Eisigesis disregards the claim in favor of the preacher’s interest. The tension is located where the claim of the text confronts and engages the concrete issues and interests of those who hear preaching. In eisigesis the text is tortured to make it say what the preacher has predetermined. This occurs
