Pastor’s Note
One Hit Wonder
Speaking about grace, my friend Jim Holland at St. Patrick’s Presbyterian in Memphis told me: “Jean, I’ve figured you out. You only have one sermon and you preach it from every passage of Scripture.” I asked him, “Jim, what else is there?” He replied, “I agree!”
There’s an old hymn called Grace Greater than Our Sin, which says: “Grace, grace, God’s grace, Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God’s grace, Grace that is greater than all our sin.”
I first heard this hymn at the small country church I served during seminary. I knew how to sing about grace. I knew all the lyrics. I regularly talked about grace, but it never infected my life like it has now.
We could get Freudian and ask why that is. What happened to me to make me so obsessed with grace? Is my pastoral emphasis on grace some type of cathartic self-help where I am “working through” my issues? I think it probably is. You read that correctly, I think the emphasis is cathartic. It is for me. I am probably “in process” and “wrestling through” grace as much today as ever. I would actually suggest that if this wasn’t true, then I would actually be DISQUALIFIED to stand in the pulpit.
Let me paint a picture of the alternative. Imagine a pastor who was “fixed.” Imagine one who had it “all together.” Imagine someone who saw himself as the spiritual “Yoda” for Southwood. Imagine a senior pastor who operated more like a theological personal trainer. Imagine something akin to one of those workout lunatics on “The Biggest Loser.” Imagine the pastor “fit and trim” theologically, spiritually, and devotionally—tight “quiet time abs,” perfectly sculpted “prayer notebook” and a high Scripture memory metabolism.
In that paradigm “Rev. Fit and Trim” simply does spiritual diagnostics, puts you on a program, turns on the treadmill and then barks loud enough and long enough to get you to shed those extra 10 pounds of sin and start eating a more “whole grain” spiritual diet. Some may say, “What’s wrong with that? He obviously knows what he’s doing. He is “walking the walk.” He is “sold out for Jesus.” And after all, doesn’t the Bible say that the pastor’s life should be exemplary?” Real questions, right? Right.
Let me suggest a “Yes, but…” Yes. Scripture does call me to “walk in a manner worthy of my calling” and to keep my “life and doctrine pure.” Absolutely. 100%, no argument from me. The Bible does say that. Our problem amounts to something more subtle. We have constructed a paradigm where the means of grace and the end of grace get disconnected. What is the end of grace? What is the goal we are after? Tight abs? Well-sculpted quiet times? No. The goal is not a “new and improved” version of me, but a totally transformed me that reflects HIM.
I must decrease and He must increase. He longs for the world to see Christ in me. In 2 Corinthians 4:7 Paul says, “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” You should know that the term “jars of clay” was not a compliment. It was used to provide contrast. “Treasure” does not belong in a jar of clay. It is put there for a reason—to show that the “treasure” is the treasure, not the jar. My weaknesses and spiritual “love handles” are signposts to His surpassing worth and value, not mine.
Am I preaching grace to me? You bet. When I look in the mirror do I see a man who needs Jesus more today than the first day I walked in the gym? Absolutely. I am preaching grace to me because I NEED it. I need to see, hear and remember the Gospel every day. I leak grace. I can look at sin and gain a pound. I need to be rescued and renewed daily.
Why do I tell you this? Our new mission is to “experience and express grace.” I refuse to champion even this mission statement without making sure you know that I need it more than I will promote it. If we really “get” grace, we will see that there are no mirrors in the gymnasium of grace, only windows to a world of people dying without it.