For the Reformers, the center of worship was to be the preaching of the Word of God, and the central theme of that preaching, according to Luther, was to be Christ. Luther approached this question with an emphasis on the gospel, but not an exclusive emphasis. He made an important distinction between law and gospel. He was convinced that preachers ought to preach the law as well as the gospel because, unless the law is set forth clearly and unambiguously, people will never have an appreciation for the gospel. In one sense, Luther anticipated where we are today—a time when the gospel has fallen almost into obscurity. People are not excited about the gospel because they tacitly assume that there is no great need for it. We are told that God loves everybody unconditionally; that He accepts us just as we are. If that were true, we would have no need to flee from our guilt and sin to embrace the gospel.
Luther himself was almost completely crushed by his study of the law. During his time in the monastery, he spent hours every day in confession, telling his confessor all the sins he could recall from the previous twenty-four hours. His confessor finally grew frustrated, thinking that if Luther was going to confess sins, he ought to confess something big, not things such as, “I coveted Brother David’s morsel of meat on his plate last night” or “I stayed up five minutes past lights-out time reading my Bible by candlelight.” What kind of trouble can you get into in a monastery that would take two or three hours to confess the next day?
We must remember that Luther had been educated in jurisprudence. He was a promising student of law before he fled to the monastery for refuge from the wrath of God. So Luther would pore over the biblical law, and he saw the law as a mirror that revealed, on the one hand, the perfect righteousness and holiness of God, and on the other hand, his own lack of righteousness. So if there ever was a person tormented by guilt because of familiarity with the law of God, it was Luther. He said later that before God will allow people to experience the sweetness and joy of heaven, He first dangles them, as it were, over the pit of hell so that they can see what their estate would be apart from the gospel.
Luther also was captured by what Paul calls the pedagogical function of the law. Paul speaks of the law as the divine pedagogue—that is, the schoolmaster who brings us to Christ. That particular metaphor can be a little bit misleading. In the ancient world, there were two adults in the classroom. One would communicate the information necessary for learning; he transferred the content. The other person carried a long stick and was basically the disciplinarian. If students in the classroom misbehaved or got out of line, the disciplinarian would come along and tap them on the shoulder lightly. If the misbehavior became more severe, the disciplinarian would tap less gently. That is what Paul was saying about the function of the law. The law corrects, disciplines, and exposes our evil, and therefore drives us to the gospel.
One of the age-old issues that Augustine dealt with in his interaction with the heretic Pelagius was whether God is unjust in commanding perfection from human beings. Augustine said that we are fallen and dead in sin and trespasses. Therefore, we cannot fulfill God’s mandate to be holy even as He is holy (Lev. 11:44; 1 Peter 1:16). Pelagius countered that God would command us to be holy and perfect only if we have the ability in and of ourselves to do so. Pelagius’ heresy was categorically rejected by the church on many occasions. However, Luther also wondered why God gave laws He knew we wouldn’t be able to fulfill. His answer was that the law has an evangelical function—it is designed to drive us to the gospel.
In the church I pastor, we read from the Ten Commandments each Sunday morning, with a brief exposition of one of them. We do this for the same reason Luther and Calvin agreed upon in the sixteenth century—we must keep the law of God before the people so that they may lay hold of the gospel.
So Luther saw that the task of the preacher is to preach both law and gospel. Never would he allow the possibility of merely preaching the gospel without ever preaching the law. If a pastor preaches nothing except the “good news” and never preaches the “bad news,” the good news becomes “no news.” It loses its significance for people.
Avoiding Novelties in Preaching
Luther also said that the minister should never preach novelties. The theological world often puts a premium on that which is new and different. Of course, Luther offered brilliant insights, vignettes of discernment into the Word of God that in many ways were exceedingly fresh and helpful in awakening the people of his day. A minister may communicate a vignette of insight drawn from the text itself, something that may have been forgotten or overlooked. But Luther was talking about creative invention. There is no room for that in the pulpit, and there is no room for it in the teaching of the people of God.
One of the problems we have in the church today is that liberal theology has so captured many of the mainline denominations that the ministers no longer teach from the content of Scripture at all. How does that happen historically? It is axiomatic that as the seminaries go, so go the pastors; and as the pastors go, so go the congregations. If you want a reformation, you have to look seriously at what the seminaries are teaching.
Seminaries are academic institutions, and they are always competing for academic respectability. They want the professors with the best credentials from the most acclaimed universities. At the academic level, in order to get a doctorate, you have to publish a doctoral dissertation. In most institutions, in order to qualify for a Ph.D. dissertation, you have to come up with a thesis that is new. So there is a premium on novelty. Of course, it is perfectly fine for somebody engaged in chemical research to discover new insights in terms of how certain chemicals interact. The sciences, particularly the physical sciences, are subject to great advances with further research and novel experimentation. But when it comes to the content of a book that was completed two thousand years ago, one that the best minds in Western history have pored over since then, it is highly unlikely that we will come up with a radically new insight that will change the entire framework for understanding that book. Yet we put pressure on our scholars to do just that.
When I was in graduate school, I read about a student who had received a Ph.D. for a thesis that claimed that there was a particular mushroom that was a hallucinogenic and incited people to all kinds of sexual eroticism, and that Jesus had founded a cult based upon that. That kind of thing is manifestly absurd. One has to completely ignore all of the classical standards of historical research to come up with such a thesis. But in our day, the more novel something is, the more enticing it becomes for academic recognition.
There is a left wing and a right wing in theological scholarship. Not only that, there are radical left and right wings. The lunatic fringe on the left wing is inhabited by people such as those who made up “the Jesus Seminar,” a group of scholars that came together in the 1980s to debate the historicity of the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ life. People object to my characterization of the Jesus Seminar participants as part of the “lunatic fringe” because they are “scholars.” I reply that, though these people have advanced academic degrees, they are utterly irresponsible and they do not practice sober scholarship. I can find myself on the opposite end of the spectrum from a higher-critical liberal scholar but still respect his methodology, his manner of academic research. However, the Jesus Seminar is concerned with things that are novel, which is why it receives so much press. The Jesus Seminar participants are like the philosophers at the Areopagus in Athens, who were interested in hearing Paul because they were always there to discuss what was new. He was teaching something they had never heard before, that someone actually had been raised from the dead, so they wanted to hear what he had to say.
What God expects from a minister of the gospel is the sober, accurate presentation of His Word. We get no style points for novelty from God. In fact, to be novel with the Word of God is to create something that is not a part of the Word of God; it is to add to the Word that which does not belong to it. At that point, we place ourselves dangerously close to the wrath of God. According to Luther, there is no room for novelty; we are to preach the whole counsel of God, both the law and the gospel in all their fullness, with no inventions.
Helping People Get to Heaven
Luther said it is the preacher’s task to show people how to get to heaven. Some people, looking at that purpose statement from a twentieth-century perspective, smile and say: “Are you serious, Luther, that the task of the preacher on Sunday morning is to teach people how to get to heaven? Isn’t that so ‘otherworldly’ in its orientation that we lose the application of the Word of God to the present?”
Luther said that the task of the church is profane. He did not mean that we are to be a profane people in the pejorative sense of that word, as it is commonly used in our language today. The etymological roots of profane literally mean “out of the temple” or “outside of the temple.” Luther meant that the Christian life is to be so strong that we go out of the temple and into the world. By learning how to get to heaven on the vertical plane, we also learn how to be Christ for our neighbor on the horizontal plane, so that, after we come out of church on Sunday morning, we go into the world with the gospel. Luther did not see the task of the church to be contained in a monastery. On the contrary, he envisioned the Word of God penetrating the culture and the strongholds of this world.
That is a far cry from what happened in the nineteenth century, when liberal theology completely denied the importance and value of the vertical relationship. Liberal theologians said Christianity is not about how to get to heaven, but about how to love our neighbor. They said it is not about supernatural reconciliation, but about building a humanitarian society. So the gospel became translated into the so-called “social gospel” of the nineteenth century.
Luther declared that every person’s most acute need in life is to be prepared for what happens at the end of that life when he or she dies. The preacher of the Word of God is to prepare every person for making that transition from this world into heaven. As pastors, we are entrusted with the souls of people—their eternal destinies. We live in a day when people don’t even believe that we have souls, but the doctrine of the personal continuity of our existence after death is essential to the Christian faith. People need to be prepared for that, and that is the task of the preacher.
One of the reasons ministers try to conjure up new and interesting viewpoints is because they lack confidence in the effectiveness of preaching the whole counsel of God. Luther strongly emphasized that the power of preaching resides not in the preacher or in his technique, but in the power of God as He attends the proclamation of His Word. Of course, Luther understood that the gospel does not belong to the preacher. It doesn’t even belong to the church. Paul articulates in Romans 1:1 that he is an apostle separated by God to “the gospel of God.” This of does not mean “about”; rather, it is possessive. When Paul speaks of the gospel of God, he is saying that the gospel belongs to God. He is its Author; He is its Owner. The gospel was not invented by the insights of prophets or preachers, but came from God Himself. So when we proclaim the gospel, we proclaim a message that is not our own.
Later in that same chapter, Paul says that the gospel is the power of God unto salvation for all who believe—that the power is in the gospel, not in our presentation of it. That being the case, it is all the more necessary for the preacher to be careful in how he sets forth the gospel.
Understanding the Gospel
A few years ago at a Christian bookseller’s convention, with several thousand people present, one Christian group did a survey asking people to define the gospel. Out of one hundred responses that were given, only one qualified as an adequate description of the gospel. People think that the gospel is having a warm relationship with Jesus or asking Christ into your heart. Those things are important, but they are not the gospel. The gospel focuses on the person of Christ, what Christ accomplished, and how the benefits of Christ are appropriated to the Christian’s life by faith.
Our first task as preachers is to make sure we know the gospel ourselves so that we can proclaim it accurately and boldly. When we do that, it is not our responsibility to make sure that the gospel takes hold in the hearts of men and produces a response of faith. Paul wrote to the Ephesians that we are justified by grace through faith, and that faith is not of ourselves but is the gift of God (Eph. 2:8–9). Even the faith that we hope will be the response to our proclamation of the gospel is not something that we can create; it is a gift from God. So I can preach with the greatest eloquence, the greatest sincerity, with the most modern techniques possible, to multitudes of people, and not see any fruit. Or I can set forth the minimal content of the gospel with very little talent and see a revival break out, because the power is in the gospel as God attends the preaching of His Word. Remember that God has chosen the foolishness of preaching as the means by which He will save the world (1 Cor. 1:20–25).
The Bible puts a premium on the office of preaching. God has chosen the foolishness of preaching as the means for accomplishing His end: the salvation of His people. Luther understood that when he said: “Your task, O preacher, is to make sure that you are faithful to the text, that you are faithful to the proclamation of that gospel, that you are faithful to set forth the whole counsel of God, and then step back and let it happen. I don’t have to try to cajole and persuade people with my techniques to get them to respond. I preach the law, I preach the gospel, and the Holy Ghost attends the ministry of that word to bring forth the fruit.”
Luther explains that God has entrusted the ministry of the Word to us, not its results, just as He did in the days of Moses, when God sent Moses to Pharaoh. If ever there was a power struggle, it was the confrontation between Moses and Pharaoh, who was the most powerful man in the world at the time. God told Moses, an exile who had been living for years as a lowly shepherd in the Midianite wilderness, to go to Pharaoh and to command him in the name of God to let His people go. Against the forces of this world, Moses was impotent. He had nothing in himself to compare with the power of Pharaoh. But Moses was faithful to deliver God’s word to Pharaoh, and God triumphed over Pharaoh and his armies.
The Value of Preaching
For this reason, Luther had a high degree of respect for ministers who were faithful to the Word. He said that the people of God should give high honor and esteem to faithful preachers—even those who are mediocre in their technique.
Americans live in an economy where the marketplace determines the value of goods and services. I can’t tell you how valuable your car is to you; only you know that. But we Americans tend to put a high price on automobiles because we’re a highly mobile society, and many of us live many miles from our workplaces. We need transportation, so we’re willing to spend large amounts in order to have a car. Likewise, we put a premium on our physical health, so we’re willing to spend large amounts of money for doctors and medical care.
But watch the cultural habits of people when they go to church. Thirty years ago, the custom was to drop a $1 bill into the collection basket as it was passed. Today the custom is to put a $1 bill in the basket—never mind inflation. If we leave it up to the marketplace, we will find that the lowest-paid professionals in America are teachers and preachers. Why is that? It is because we don’t place much value upon the services they provide. That is why, in Old Testament Israel, God commanded a tax upon the people of Israel, the tithe. It was distributed among the Levites, who were responsible for teaching and preaching. God knew that if the value of preaching were left to people, they would never pay for it. Luther classified such a low view of preaching and preachers as a sin against God.
At this point, many churchgoers will say, “We want our preachers to be poor because we don’t want them to be worldly.” It is never our responsibility to take care of other people’s charity; you’re responsible for your own charity, not to impose it upon other people. When Luther saw this going on in Germany, he pointed out that even a mediocre preacher is bringing the pearl of great price to the people. Since the minister is handling that which is of eternal, inestimable value, the people ought not to despise his labor.
On the other hand, Luther noted that personal ambition is often a snare for a faithful preacher. You may think that somewhat strange, because you may question why a man would go into the ministry out of personal ambition. One of the attractive things about the ministry is that it gives a person an instant place of leadership over other people. Even if the pay isn’t much, the sense of authority and power associated with the pulpit can still be an enticement to people who have no regard for the things of God. Luther cautioned men to be careful of the ambition that can destroy the ministry. He said that the preachers and teachers who are most vulnerable to that destruction are those who are most talented, because they are most vulnerable to pride. Pride becomes the snare to the minister who has something to lose, and he begins to build his own empire rather than being faithful to the things of God.
Aiming for the Heart through the Mind
We do not put our trust in techniques. Nevertheless, Luther did not despise the teaching of certain principles of communication that he thought were important. There are things preachers can learn regarding how to construct and deliver a sermon, and how to communicate information effectively from the pulpit.
He also said that the makeup of the human person is an important clue to preaching. God has made us in His image and has given us minds. Therefore, a sermon is addressed to the mind, but it’s not just a communication of information—there is also admonition and exhortation (as noted above). There is a sense in which we are addressing people’s wills and are calling them to change. We call them to act according to their understanding. In other words, we want to get to the heart, but we know that the way to the heart is through the mind. So first of all, the people must be able to understand what we’re talking about. That is why Luther said it is one thing to teach in seminary, as he did at the university, and another to teach from the pulpit. He said that on Sunday mornings, he would pitch his sermons to the children in the congregation to make sure that everyone there could understand. The sermon is not to be an exercise in abstract thinking.
That which makes the deepest and most lasting impression on people is the concrete illustration. For Luther, the three most important principles of public communication were illustrate, illustrate, and illustrate. He encouraged preachers to use concrete images and narratives. He advised that, when preaching on abstract doctrine, the pastor find a narrative in Scripture that communicates that truth so as to communicate the abstract through the concrete.
In fact, that was how Jesus preached. Somebody came to Him and wanted to debate what it meant to love one’s neighbor as much as oneself. “But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘Who is my neighbor?’ Then Jesus answered and said: ‘A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves . . .’” (Luke 10:29–30). He didn’t just give an abstract, theoretical answer to the question; he told the parable of the Good Samaritan. He answered the question in concrete form by giving a real-life situation that was sure to get the point across.
Jonathan Edwards preached his famous sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” in Enfield, Conn. He read the sermon from a manuscript in a monotone voice. However, he employed concrete and even graphic images. For instance, Edwards said, “God . . . holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect, over the fire.” Later he said, “The bow of God’s wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string.”7 He also declared, “You hang by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it.” Edwards understood that the more graphic the image, the more people were likely to hear it and to remember it.
Luther said the same thing. He was not substituting technique for substance, but saying that the substance of the Word of God must be communicated in simple, graphic, straightforward, illustrative ways to the people of God. That was the whole of the matter for Luther—the minister is to be a bearer of the Word of God—nothing less, nothing more. In this way the preacher teaches the people of God.
Editor’s Note: This article was previously published as “The Teaching Preacher,” in Feed My Sheep: A Passionate Plea for Preaching, ed. Don Kistler (Lake Mary, Fla.: Reformation Trust, 2008). 71–88.