and a little more...
My Holy of Holies
How all-too-human preachers can prepare their souls to preach.
by John Ortberg
A good friend from the Pentecostal tradition, in which people will often stand up and speak very authoritatively to the congregation, told me a glorious story. According to my friend, a man once stood up and declared, "Thus saith the Lord: Even as I was with Abraham when he led the children of Israel through the wilderness, so I will be with you." Then he sat down.
His wife nudged him and whispered something. He quickly stood back up and said, "Thus saith the Lord: I was mistaken. It was Moses."
That story captures the mystery of preaching, illustrating both the Word part and the flesh part: "Thus saith the Lord, I was mistaken."
The very words of God coming through human instruments, which would be you and me.
What an odd combination that is!
How do we prepare our souls for this task? We are very fallible people and yet we are to speak for God. Our preparation is not just getting our spiritual life "amped up" for a weekend service. It is much more a way of life: "What kind of person am I becoming so that preaching is the outflow of a certain kind of life, and it comes out of me in a way that God wants it to come out?"
This means not preparing your soul for a week of preaching, but how to prepare your soul for a life of preaching.
You speak in the Presence of God
When you look at Jesus, the line between when he's teaching, when he's praying, and when he's just having conversations gets really blurry. Whereas for me, the lines are often very distinct. I tend to compartmentalize.
When you speak in relation to another person, you have three categories: (1) you speak directly to the person, (2) you speak in front of the person, or (3) you speak in the absence of that person. In the third category, I might be talking about you or I might be talking about something else, but your presence is not impacting what I say. We all recognize that we usually speak differently about a person in their absence than we do in their presence.
When it comes to God, we can speak to God, and we can speak in the presence of God, but we can never actually speak in the absence of God. But for some reason, God makes it possible for us to feel as if we can.
I recently visited the Christian college I attended, and I was remembering the odd game we played in the cafeteria. As we sat down to eat, we would all surreptitiously put our thumbs up, and whoever was the last one at the table to get his thumb up had to offer the prayer over the food.
Now, think about that! God is watching this the whole time. But we're sticking our thumbs up, and the loser has to pray. Then we bow our heads and say, "Dear God, thanks for this food and we love you so much."
God is present the whole time, but we were acting as if he's not paying attention until we bow our heads and close our eyes; then he picks up the phone and we're connected. But we act as if the thumb stuff escapes his notice.
We live differently when we're aware of his presence. How many of us drive differently when we see a squad car than we do when we think the police aren't around?
Why does God make it possible for us to live as if he's absent? I think it's because he wants us heart and soul, not just when we're aware of being monitored.
Maybe that's why Jesus, whether he is formally teaching or just having conversations, is always bringing people to God. Because he lives his whole life in the presence of God.
What causes incongruence in my life is spending so much of my life unaware of his presence. I allow myself to act and talk in ways that are not shaped or influenced by God's constant presence.
The root of getting our souls ready to preach is to become people who are consciously always speaking either to God or in the presence of God, but never in the absence of God. As Psalm 16:8 says: "I have set the Lord always before me."
Constant conversation
With Jesus, the line between prayer and just talking often gets real blurry. A great example of this is in Mark 9, when a father brings his demon-possessed son to Jesus and says, "If you can, please help us."
Jesus responds, "Why do you say 'if'? All things are possible for one who believes."
The boy's father says, "I believe; help my unbelief."
Then Jesus speaks to the spirit and demands that he come out.
Then the disciples go to Jesus and ask, "Why couldn't we cast that demon out?"
"This kind can come out only by prayer," Jesus replies.
What's odd here is that Jesus doesn't pray, at least not in this account. He speaks directly to the demon and it comes out.
What does that indicate about Jesus and prayer? It suggests Jesus was the kind of person whose whole life was lived in the presence of God. All his speaking and listening and acting were with God in mind.
Hidden curriculum
Educators often refer to a concept called the hidden curriculum. This concept suggests that in a classroom, there is a formal curriculum that includes things like math problems, writing assignments, or science experiments. But there's also the hidden curriculum, which involves issues like who wants to sit next to whom, and who does the teacher look at, and who does the teacher tend to call on?
The hidden curriculum teaches students who matters and who does not, who's bright and who's left out.
If there is an inconsistency between the hidden curriculum and the formal curriculum, research shows that students always believe the hidden curriculum.
Jesus gets at this idea of a hidden curriculum when he tells the religious leaders in Matthew 12:37: "Your idle words will condemn you." I always assumed that meant, "Don't speak casually; you're always supposed to say something important."
But I don't think that's what Jesus means. He's saying, "It's what you say when you're not trying to be spiritual, and when you're not behind the microphone, that reveals the state of your heart."
So, trying to preach great sermons without seeking to become the kind of person who's always in the presence of Jesus is ultimately defeating.
If I preach and say the most profound truths in Scripture, my "idle words," the words I say "off the clock" can undo all the good I tried to do with my sermon.
Far more important than putting together a great sermon is training yourself to become the kind of person who speaks all of your words in front of God.
Houses of the Holy
The theologian Abraham Kuyper likened the human soul to the tabernacle in the Old Testament.
You have an outer court, which is the public domain. That's where you work, where you shop, and where you go to school.
Preaching is often done as an outer court activity. I prepare the words ahead of time. I think through what I want to say. I'm very aware of the fact that I'm doing this as a public activity.
You also have an inner court. This is the place where you invite family, friends, and people that you love deeply. You share a deeper level of your life in the inner court. Not everybody gets to the inner court, certainly not your whole church.
But then inside the tabernacle, way inside, is the Holy of Holies. The Holy of Holies is a deeply private space that is shared only by you and God. No other human being can ever enter your Holy of Holies, but you are never alone there. That is the space for you and God.
One thing I didn't understand about preaching when I first started, because it was such a public, outer court activity, is that it will drain you spiritually if the Holy of Holies is not rich and full.
The task of preaching tempts me to think that who I am in the outer court is who I am deep inside. And one of the problems is that we can dress things up really well in the outer court, while things may actually be neglected or dying in the Holy of Holies.
The most important question is, How is my life in the Holy of Holies? Is the life that I'm inviting other people to live, the life that I'm living myself? Because if it's not, then none of the rest of it matters.
Let go of your words
Few people live that kind of life, and I try to learn from them as much as I can. For me, one of those people is Dallas Willard. As both a writer and as a person, he lives in light of the kingdom.
About a year and a half ago, we had a weekend at our church where we explored spiritual formation, and Dallas was one of the people who spoke to a group of our leaders.
After he was done, we walked out to the car, and he was just shuffling along, singing to himself a hymn.
What struck me as I watched him was how different he was than what I'm like after I speak. There was nothing inside of Dallas that was asking the questions I tend to gnaw on: "How did I do? What went well? What didn't? Did people like that?" Why do I dwell on such things? Because if they liked it, I can feel good about myself, and I can feed off of that. And if they didn't like it, then that's bad, and I'm kind of sad.
But with Dallas, it was like watching a kid let go of a helium balloon. He wanted to be helpful to folks, but he offered his words and let them go. Neither his words nor people's reactions to them had any power over his well-being. That part was hidden with Christ in God.
I see that and realize that's the kind of person I want to become.
Do you ever watch people at a bowling alley? What happens when they let go of the ball? It's out of their hand and they are watching it roll down the lane, but they're worried it's not going to end up in the right place. So they start moving to the left or to the right, twisting their bodies, waving their arms, or talking to the ball.
But the secret to joyful bowling is when you let it go, let it go. And one of the soul secrets to preaching is when you let it go, let it go.
Soul dissatisfaction and complete freedom
We were made for soul satisfaction, so we cannot live with chronically dissatisfied souls for long. If we do not find satisfaction in God's goodness to us, we will look for satisfaction someplace else.
It's soul dissatisfaction that always has the effect of making sin look good. Any time you see somebody in ministry who has fallen, you can be sure that person was living with a chronically dissatisfied soul. What's really sad isn't just the ditch he or she ends up in; what's really sad is the months and years they were living with a dissatisfied soul. It eventually has the effect if making bad look good.
When someone asked Dallas Willard, "How many times have you seen a person in ministry fail morally where it was not caused by a dissatisfied soul?" he replied, "Never."
What always drives us, at the soul level, is that if I believe that I cannot trust God to care for the satisfaction of my soul, then I will take my soul's satisfaction into my own hands. I may not acknowledge that even to myself.
Carving out a satisfying and joyful life with God is a fundamental discipline for all of us who preach.
Jesus exhibited this kind of total freedom. He was free to help people, and he was free to confront where they needed confrontation, and he was free to comfort when they needed comfort.
This is fundamentally crucial in preparation of the soul. If I'm to preach to people effectively, I must be freed from my need for their approval and applause. As long as I am chained to that need, then my preaching will really be trying to fill up something in me that I can never fill.
Life in the kingdom means living in freedom and in the reality of truths like "The Lord is my Shepherd." If the Lord really is my Shepherd, than I shall not want. And then I won't have to be driven by the desire for more applause or more approval. I've got someplace else to stand.
Standing in the presence of God.
John Ortberg is pastor of Menlo Park Presbyterian Church in Menlo Park, California.
How all-too-human preachers can prepare their souls to preach.
by John Ortberg
A good friend from the Pentecostal tradition, in which people will often stand up and speak very authoritatively to the congregation, told me a glorious story. According to my friend, a man once stood up and declared, "Thus saith the Lord: Even as I was with Abraham when he led the children of Israel through the wilderness, so I will be with you." Then he sat down.
His wife nudged him and whispered something. He quickly stood back up and said, "Thus saith the Lord: I was mistaken. It was Moses."
That story captures the mystery of preaching, illustrating both the Word part and the flesh part: "Thus saith the Lord, I was mistaken."
The very words of God coming through human instruments, which would be you and me.
What an odd combination that is!
How do we prepare our souls for this task? We are very fallible people and yet we are to speak for God. Our preparation is not just getting our spiritual life "amped up" for a weekend service. It is much more a way of life: "What kind of person am I becoming so that preaching is the outflow of a certain kind of life, and it comes out of me in a way that God wants it to come out?"
This means not preparing your soul for a week of preaching, but how to prepare your soul for a life of preaching.
You speak in the Presence of God
When you look at Jesus, the line between when he's teaching, when he's praying, and when he's just having conversations gets really blurry. Whereas for me, the lines are often very distinct. I tend to compartmentalize.
When you speak in relation to another person, you have three categories: (1) you speak directly to the person, (2) you speak in front of the person, or (3) you speak in the absence of that person. In the third category, I might be talking about you or I might be talking about something else, but your presence is not impacting what I say. We all recognize that we usually speak differently about a person in their absence than we do in their presence.
When it comes to God, we can speak to God, and we can speak in the presence of God, but we can never actually speak in the absence of God. But for some reason, God makes it possible for us to feel as if we can.
I recently visited the Christian college I attended, and I was remembering the odd game we played in the cafeteria. As we sat down to eat, we would all surreptitiously put our thumbs up, and whoever was the last one at the table to get his thumb up had to offer the prayer over the food.
Now, think about that! God is watching this the whole time. But we're sticking our thumbs up, and the loser has to pray. Then we bow our heads and say, "Dear God, thanks for this food and we love you so much."
God is present the whole time, but we were acting as if he's not paying attention until we bow our heads and close our eyes; then he picks up the phone and we're connected. But we act as if the thumb stuff escapes his notice.
We live differently when we're aware of his presence. How many of us drive differently when we see a squad car than we do when we think the police aren't around?
Why does God make it possible for us to live as if he's absent? I think it's because he wants us heart and soul, not just when we're aware of being monitored.
Maybe that's why Jesus, whether he is formally teaching or just having conversations, is always bringing people to God. Because he lives his whole life in the presence of God.
What causes incongruence in my life is spending so much of my life unaware of his presence. I allow myself to act and talk in ways that are not shaped or influenced by God's constant presence.
The root of getting our souls ready to preach is to become people who are consciously always speaking either to God or in the presence of God, but never in the absence of God. As Psalm 16:8 says: "I have set the Lord always before me."
Constant conversation
With Jesus, the line between prayer and just talking often gets real blurry. A great example of this is in Mark 9, when a father brings his demon-possessed son to Jesus and says, "If you can, please help us."
Jesus responds, "Why do you say 'if'? All things are possible for one who believes."
The boy's father says, "I believe; help my unbelief."
Then Jesus speaks to the spirit and demands that he come out.
Then the disciples go to Jesus and ask, "Why couldn't we cast that demon out?"
"This kind can come out only by prayer," Jesus replies.
What's odd here is that Jesus doesn't pray, at least not in this account. He speaks directly to the demon and it comes out.
What does that indicate about Jesus and prayer? It suggests Jesus was the kind of person whose whole life was lived in the presence of God. All his speaking and listening and acting were with God in mind.
Hidden curriculum
Educators often refer to a concept called the hidden curriculum. This concept suggests that in a classroom, there is a formal curriculum that includes things like math problems, writing assignments, or science experiments. But there's also the hidden curriculum, which involves issues like who wants to sit next to whom, and who does the teacher look at, and who does the teacher tend to call on?
The hidden curriculum teaches students who matters and who does not, who's bright and who's left out.
If there is an inconsistency between the hidden curriculum and the formal curriculum, research shows that students always believe the hidden curriculum.
Jesus gets at this idea of a hidden curriculum when he tells the religious leaders in Matthew 12:37: "Your idle words will condemn you." I always assumed that meant, "Don't speak casually; you're always supposed to say something important."
But I don't think that's what Jesus means. He's saying, "It's what you say when you're not trying to be spiritual, and when you're not behind the microphone, that reveals the state of your heart."
So, trying to preach great sermons without seeking to become the kind of person who's always in the presence of Jesus is ultimately defeating.
If I preach and say the most profound truths in Scripture, my "idle words," the words I say "off the clock" can undo all the good I tried to do with my sermon.
Far more important than putting together a great sermon is training yourself to become the kind of person who speaks all of your words in front of God.
Houses of the Holy
The theologian Abraham Kuyper likened the human soul to the tabernacle in the Old Testament.
You have an outer court, which is the public domain. That's where you work, where you shop, and where you go to school.
Preaching is often done as an outer court activity. I prepare the words ahead of time. I think through what I want to say. I'm very aware of the fact that I'm doing this as a public activity.
You also have an inner court. This is the place where you invite family, friends, and people that you love deeply. You share a deeper level of your life in the inner court. Not everybody gets to the inner court, certainly not your whole church.
But then inside the tabernacle, way inside, is the Holy of Holies. The Holy of Holies is a deeply private space that is shared only by you and God. No other human being can ever enter your Holy of Holies, but you are never alone there. That is the space for you and God.
One thing I didn't understand about preaching when I first started, because it was such a public, outer court activity, is that it will drain you spiritually if the Holy of Holies is not rich and full.
The task of preaching tempts me to think that who I am in the outer court is who I am deep inside. And one of the problems is that we can dress things up really well in the outer court, while things may actually be neglected or dying in the Holy of Holies.
The most important question is, How is my life in the Holy of Holies? Is the life that I'm inviting other people to live, the life that I'm living myself? Because if it's not, then none of the rest of it matters.
Let go of your words
Few people live that kind of life, and I try to learn from them as much as I can. For me, one of those people is Dallas Willard. As both a writer and as a person, he lives in light of the kingdom.
About a year and a half ago, we had a weekend at our church where we explored spiritual formation, and Dallas was one of the people who spoke to a group of our leaders.
After he was done, we walked out to the car, and he was just shuffling along, singing to himself a hymn.
What struck me as I watched him was how different he was than what I'm like after I speak. There was nothing inside of Dallas that was asking the questions I tend to gnaw on: "How did I do? What went well? What didn't? Did people like that?" Why do I dwell on such things? Because if they liked it, I can feel good about myself, and I can feed off of that. And if they didn't like it, then that's bad, and I'm kind of sad.
But with Dallas, it was like watching a kid let go of a helium balloon. He wanted to be helpful to folks, but he offered his words and let them go. Neither his words nor people's reactions to them had any power over his well-being. That part was hidden with Christ in God.
I see that and realize that's the kind of person I want to become.
Do you ever watch people at a bowling alley? What happens when they let go of the ball? It's out of their hand and they are watching it roll down the lane, but they're worried it's not going to end up in the right place. So they start moving to the left or to the right, twisting their bodies, waving their arms, or talking to the ball.
But the secret to joyful bowling is when you let it go, let it go. And one of the soul secrets to preaching is when you let it go, let it go.
Soul dissatisfaction and complete freedom
We were made for soul satisfaction, so we cannot live with chronically dissatisfied souls for long. If we do not find satisfaction in God's goodness to us, we will look for satisfaction someplace else.
It's soul dissatisfaction that always has the effect of making sin look good. Any time you see somebody in ministry who has fallen, you can be sure that person was living with a chronically dissatisfied soul. What's really sad isn't just the ditch he or she ends up in; what's really sad is the months and years they were living with a dissatisfied soul. It eventually has the effect if making bad look good.
When someone asked Dallas Willard, "How many times have you seen a person in ministry fail morally where it was not caused by a dissatisfied soul?" he replied, "Never."
What always drives us, at the soul level, is that if I believe that I cannot trust God to care for the satisfaction of my soul, then I will take my soul's satisfaction into my own hands. I may not acknowledge that even to myself.
Carving out a satisfying and joyful life with God is a fundamental discipline for all of us who preach.
Jesus exhibited this kind of total freedom. He was free to help people, and he was free to confront where they needed confrontation, and he was free to comfort when they needed comfort.
This is fundamentally crucial in preparation of the soul. If I'm to preach to people effectively, I must be freed from my need for their approval and applause. As long as I am chained to that need, then my preaching will really be trying to fill up something in me that I can never fill.
Life in the kingdom means living in freedom and in the reality of truths like "The Lord is my Shepherd." If the Lord really is my Shepherd, than I shall not want. And then I won't have to be driven by the desire for more applause or more approval. I've got someplace else to stand.
Standing in the presence of God.
John Ortberg is pastor of Menlo Park Presbyterian Church in Menlo Park, California.
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