Until Christ Be Sweet, Sin Will Not Be Bitter

Mike Leake

photo-1457139621581-298d1801c832The preacher catches wind that someone in his congregation is living in egregious sin. And this Sunday his text just so happens to be about that particular sin. That’s a bit unsettling, but he actually preaches verse-by-verse for moments such as this. Nobody can accuse him of cherry picking a verse just to uncourageously deal with sin behind a pulpit instead of face to face. Everybody knows that he’s preaching this text because that’s what is next in the sermon series.

So he ascends to the pulpit and preaches his heart. He preaches truth. He doesn’t compromise. He calls sin what it is, speaks of the odiousness of this particular sin, and calls for repentance.

It hits the target. The man living in that sin feels guilty, ashamed, and even a bit angry.

He leaves. Never comes back.

How We Soothe Our Pain of Their Departure

Some might hear a story like this and assume that the preacher should have coddled a bit more and not been quite so bold in naming sin. That’s not a conclusion, though, that most in my tribe will come to. They believe, I think rightly, that we must be truthful. Sin is sin. It kills. We cannot pretend it doesn’t. It is loving to address sin.

But I also think we can be guilty of coddling ourselves a bit too quickly. I think we can comfort ourselves with a gnat of truth but be blind to a camel of error. What we’ll do in these moments is reassure ourselves that we did our job by preaching the truth, and doing it so compellingly that the sinner was cut deeply but sadly they are choosing their sin over Christ. We were faithful. They are choosing sin.

Now, a position like this can be defended by the Bible. There are instances, like the Rich Young Ruler or Demas in love with the present world, where someone walks away from the kingdom because sin is too sweet.

Sadly, people do hear the message of the kingdom and choose the fleeting pleasure of sin over the treasure of Christ. But is it possible that the reason this person is “choosing their sin” is because they aren’t seeing the beauty of Jesus? Don’t misunderstand. God removes scales from eyes and allows us to see Jesus. But our job as hope-peddlers, as good-news bringers, is to strike the major note of the beauty of Jesus and His kingdom.

I do agree with Thomas Watson that until sin be bitter Christ will not be sweet. But I kind of wonder if he has that flipped a bit. What if we said, “Until Christ is sweet, sin will not be bitter”. That seems to me to be what happens in New Testament narratives when radical change takes place.

The Jesus Way

Consider Peter on a boat encountering the all-powerful Jesus telling him to cast out into the deep waters. What happens to Peter is similar to what happened to Isaiah the prophet. He catches a glimpse of glory and immediately his own sinfulness becomes apparent. You don’t really have to preach on sin when we truly encounter the holy. It’s so glaringly obvious that we’re undone and crying out for healing.

Yes, there are stories where people walk away. But the major note of the New Testament mission seems to be Jesus captivating people with his good-news bringing as he calls people to himself. For the most part He doesn’t start with “naming the sin” but captivating with love, hope, goodness, rescue, etc. If this is the major emphasis I believe it would do us well to ask the tough questions of our preaching. Am I preaching Christ as compellingly as I’m preaching sin? Am I being as clear about the good news as I am naming sin?

“They left church because they wanted their sin” doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve been a faithful gospel (good news) preacher. It might mean that you’ve actually not preached Christ as beautifully as He is, and so the sin still looks more precious. Not always, but maybe.

Let us be truthful about sin. But let us preach Christ so wonderfully and beautifully that the bitterness of sin becomes obvious held next to the radiance of His splendor.

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The Necessity of Giving The Benefit of the Doubt

Mike Leake

photo-1607000975677-90533e4355feA few months ago we were shocked by news of another pastor who had committed suicide. More than one article/reflection began with these words: “Another pastor has taken his life…”

Another.

Those words are painful. There is something that happens in the heart of us pastors when we hear of another of our fellows taking this route. You’d perhaps be shocked to know of how many of us pastors have been at those really dark places where we can identify with such a decision. I don’t really want to write another article about a pastor who committed suicide. But I think there is a part of pastoral ministry which needs to be shared.

A Scary Part of Pastoral Ministry

Can I tell you one of the scariest things about pastoral ministry? It’s that at any given moment a mass of people can stop giving you the benefit of the doubt. That’s incredibly scary because almost every action a person takes could be viewed through a negative lens.

This is true of every person but a pastor tends to live under a microscope. And pastors will mess up. Several times. James 4:2 says this much. But this is compounded when someone decides to view you with eyes of suspicion instead of eyes of grace. Of course, this happens when a relationship erodes. And this is heightened all the more in our present season, where a communicable disease has created difficulty in deepening relationships with one another and has simultaneously given rise to the necessity for pastors to make far-reaching decisions mostly on their own. That’s a volatile combination.

I believe this erosion of relationship is what happened to Paul in 2 Corinthians. A critic really could view his actions towards them and throw shade upon his character. If you give him the benefit of the doubt you could see things as they actually were. But viewed through a carnal lens—one that wanted to find something wrong with his actions there was plenty of evidence to be found.

This is why you absolutely cannot have pleasing men as the foundation of your ministry. It’ll make you insane. Pastor, you don’t have control of whether or not your people will listen to you with hope-filled love. You can do everything you can to build relationships and win their hearts but at the end of the day this isn’t something you can control. Nor can you be perfect enough to never give your critics fodder. Your entire ministry will be made up of a mixed bag of helpful things and unhelpful things. What more can we expect as mere men?

Viewing Your Pastor With Eyes of Hope

But I’m actually not writing today only to encourage pastors who are on the receiving end of flaming darts. I also want to encourage those who might be looking at others with suspicion or anger. Listen, if you are looking for fodder to fill up a cannon to blow away your teachers then you’re going to be given plenty of ammunition. But wouldn’t you rather be looking for the fingerprints of Jesus and picking up shards of hope?

I began this article talking about pastoral suicide. Do you know how somebody gets to that spot? It’s a lack of hope. It’s a place of despair. There is certainly much to be said about the darkness of depression and suicide, but for many it comes from seeing no path which leads to joy. And that feeling is heightened when your job, as pastor, is to be a hope-giver. When your attempts at spreading hope are met with anger and suspicion, then avenues which should be joyous are darkened.

Most view suicide as the most selfish of choices. And it probably is. But I don’t believe that is what is going through their mind in that moment. They are viewing it as the ultimate selfless act. Darkness has so twisted their view of reality that the only remnant of hope they can give is to cease existing. It’s a last ditch effort to finally do some good. Of course that is not true. Suicide will only bring pain. It is not the path of redemption and healing. It tells a lie about the goodness of God and the hope of Christ. But it’s hard to see that when the seeds of hope you tried to scatter were met with angry opposition.

I want to be clear here. I am not by any means throwing the weight of a pastor’s identity upon the congregation. You cannot bear it. If the pastor’s anchor isn’t Christ then no amount of hope you can offer will soothe. But I’ll be blunt and say that I do think congregations may bear some of the responsibility for pastoral suicide. Not always. We’re talking about complex things here. But to the degree which the pastor was viewed with suspicion and not hope, I believe a congregant bears responsibility for not properly loving their pastor. Love hopes all things. Thankfully, Christ is able to restore us in our failures of love. But in some instances deep repentance needs to take place.

I write this for two reasons. One, to plead with congregations for my fellow pastors. Yes, there are awful men and women out there filling pulpits. They will be exposed. No injustice is eternal. Yet, the vast majority of pastors love Jesus, love people, and are working to spread the hope of the gospel. To view a pastor with hope instead of suspicion will cause us to thrive. Seriously.

Secondly, I write this for pastors who are feeling this awful weight in this dark season. I’ve found a ton of encouragement from this song by Cory Asbury:


You are loved. Not because you are a pastor. Not because you have it all figured out. Not because you’re knocking it out of the park. But because Jesus has purposed to set His affections upon you. Rest today.

But I also have one little exhortation. View your congregation with eyes of hope and give them the benefit of the doubt.

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It’s not lost on me that wicked people could take an article such as this and use it to continue a system of abuse. There is MORE than just this which needs to be said. But as a general rule, I do believe Christians are to be people of hope and not jaded and suspicious. The solution here isn’t for good people to be more jaded but for bad people to stop being abusive.

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What Does Hebrews 3:1-6 Mean?

Mike Leake

photo-1460154898712-a7f99bb4a464When I read Hebrews 3:1-6 I tend to get that glazed over look on my face. It’s not that I don’t understand the words or even the structure of the sentences. The overall point is pretty simple; namely, Jesus is greater than Moses. But when I’ve read it I’ve always felt like I was missing something.

Why is the author of Hebrews telling us this? How does this serve his argument? I know that Jesus is better than Moses, but what is all this talk about building a house?

Much of the story of the Old Testament is about getting back to the presence of God. This is what all of the promises of land are really about. And the author of Hebrews has been arguing from places like Psalm 8 that Jesus Christ is the one who restores us to our proper place—Jesus gives rest, rule, and relationship.

The author of Hebrews is engaging in the discipline of biblical theology. He’s telling the whole story of the OT and how Jesus Christ fulfills it. Hebrews 3:1-6 is just a little chunk in his overall argument that Christ—and particularly the new covenant instituted by Christ—is superior to and a fulfillment of the Old Covenant.

So how does all of this talk about Moses and a house serve his purpose? Here in particular he is concerned about the presence of God. “The house” is pointing to the presence of God with the people of God. Moses was faithful as one who spoke God’s Word to the people and as one who interceded on behalf of the people.

Moses was faithful but he was just part of the house. He’s just like one of us. But Jesus stands outside of the house as the builder of it. Moses couldn’t ultimately get people into the presence of God. He couldn’t fully represent the people of God. He was faithful in what God called him to do—but he wasn’t meant to be the builder. That role belongs to Jesus Christ who is “the apostle and high priest of our confession”.

Moses was a servant of the house. Jesus is the Son who is set over the house. (And there is something to be said here for the continuity of the OT people of God and NT people of God). Jesus is building his church. Jesus even built Moses.

He is faithful over God’s house as a son! Moses is in the house. Jesus is OVER the house. And we are this house! Where does God dwell? The Holy Spirit within us. “Christ in you the hope of glory”

The presence of God has been restored through Christ in the life of God’s people. He is an apostle you can trust and a high priest you can count on. This is where the author of Hebrews is taking us. But you aren’t going to fully grab hold of Jesus if you’re still trying to hold on to Moses.

If I was riding in a cab to get to my wedding it’d be a little silly to take the cab-driver down the aisle with me. Moses did his job. He got us to the chapel. Now we enjoy the presence of Bridegroom who stands over all.

This means we enjoy dancing in grace to the One we are united to and refusing to be shackled to the one who drove us to the party.

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Churches Shouldn’t Have a Fourth Wall

Mike Leake

R7e7270bfdfffb710267955b496627545It’s the late 70s and you’re an up and coming television host with a new morning show. You’ve booked an icon in Judy Collins. She comes on the stage, takes a deep breath, sings into the microphone….nothing. What do you do?

If you’re David Letterman and crew you use it as an opportunity. Letterman came onto the stage and said, “You know, ladies and gentleman, what you have just witnessed is a screw up.” And as his biographer noted:

“And instead of getting angry, Letterman came across as light on his feet…It broke the fourth wall by adding an element of self-awareness. It also set a precedent.” (Zinoman, 61)

The fourth wall is the imaginary wall which separates those on stage with the audience. It’s incredibly common in our day for actors to break the fourth wall and directly talk to the camera/audience. But it wasn’t so common in the earlier days of television. Letterman was somewhat of a pioneer in this regard. He wasn’t the first to break the fourth wall—but he might have been the first one to break it as a mockery of his own industry.

This had me thinking about the fourth wall and how it relates to the gathering of the local church. I’ve been in churches where something like the Judy Collins incident would have ended with the sound guy being fired. I’ve known of churches where the effectiveness of the Sunday morning “performance” was measured by things like the smoothness of transitions.

I guess I’m a bit like Letterman in that a hallmark of my ministry has always been kicking against the smoothness of delivery. I think I have even inadvertently made our churches tagline “we do awkward well”. There is a self-awareness, an ability to laugh at ourselves, that I believe is vital to authentic Christian community.

I am awkward.

For me to pretend like I’m slick at giving announcements would be to betray who I am. I try. I give it 110% but at the end of the day I’m going to end up putting phrases together in weird ways that leaves people more confused than not. It happened yesterday. I was trying to make an announcement encouraging folks to give towards the possibility of having a string quartet at our Easter celebration. People thought I was trying to collect strings. So I acknowledged that I was awkward and that my announcement was going terribly.

My worldview actually informs this. I believe God relates to us as we authentically are. He doesn’t relate to the fake self that we are trying to project. That person doesn’t actually exist. He relates to you as you are. So my hope in being vulnerable with my own awkwardness is to create a culture where we don’t have a fourth-wall in our own lives.

There might be those who roll their eyes at my awkwardness. Some might even bemoan my lack of “professionalism”. But I’ll take that if somehow my awkwardness can communicate with people who have never felt heard or understood. If it can help create a culture where we are authentically human and awkwardly relating to Jesus—but doing so wholeheartedly—then its worth it.

And this is why I love Calvary of Neosho. God has placed me with a bunch of other awkward Jesus-followers. I love seeing people relate to one another as they actually are. I love seeing honesty in struggles and success. I love seeing fourth walls crumble in the lives around me. Because it’s here, in the lives we actually live, that we can really encounter Jesus. It’s here, in a gathered church without a fourth wall, that we can really live out the one another’s of the Bible.

I break that fourth wall on Sunday morning because it’s necessary for Monday morning discipleship.