What
makes a sermon great? I must have listened to something like 8000 sermons in my
lifetime, and among the more memorable of these was the one I heard at Hilton
Church in Inverness last Sunday from a lady called Ros Noble.
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| Ros Noble |
Ros
was preaching about the time in Jesus life, when just about to launch into the
three-year teaching ministry which would lead to his crucifixion, he faced
severe temptation – if he failed the test his whole mission would be fatally
compromised.
I’ve
been trying to analyse just why I found Ros’s presentation so effective.
What
she said connected with reality. Some sermons may be full of teaching about God
but tell you little you can apply to everyday living. This one was intensely
practical, for like Jesus we all face temptation both from within ourselves,
and we believe from a spirit of darkness out-with us.
Like
Jesus, we are tempted to doubt whether we are in fact God’s precious children;
to yield to our immediate desires; to ground our satisfaction in the material
rather than the spiritual; to seek forever to be in control; to sell out to the
dark side in order to get immediate results. We know the territory: Ros
reminded us of the map Jesus’ example gives.
I
also appreciated Ros’s use of pictures and symbols to awaken the imaginations
of folk like me, who tend to be left cold by ideas alone.
For
instance, the voice of temptation offered Jesus all the kingdoms of the world
if he would only turn his back on God. Ros applied this to what she called our
own ‘kingdoms’ – everyday situations where we have influence: for example the
kingdoms of home, kitchen, office, family.
We’re
tempted to be in control in these environments, to micro-manage as queens and
kings in these domains. But this controlling, Ros suggested, leads to hardness
of spirit, and a diminishing of those around us. Jesus challenges us to allow
God, as he did, to be ultimately in control, king of all our kingdoms.
I
found this powerful. And later, Ros described our quest for change in our lives
in terms of painting a fence, not with gloss paint which though it looks smart
for a while, lies on the surface and eventually peels off, but with
liberally-applied wood-stain which permeates the texture, making a deep-down
difference.
Language
like this made the sermon memorable. I also appreciated the fact that Ros
didn’t ignore potential difficulties in what she was saying. Some sermons leave
you with unanswered questions – the weak bits in the preacher’s argument, the
issues which confront you as you listen.
One
word which summed up the challenge of Ros’s sermon: ‘surrender’ to God. Let
God’s desire for you trump your own desires, let God be king of your kingdoms,
embrace God’s timescales. It seems so submissive, whereas elsewhere Christians
are called to be active change-makers.
Ros
confronted this issue, showing that intense commitment to action and change is
not incompatible with acknowledging God as king. My understanding is that we
are designed to live in relationship with God, free agents willingly open to
prompting and empowerment by God’s Spirit. It is precisely when we
‘surrender’ to God that we’re set free to be radical change-makers as Jesus
was.
Of
course there were other difficult questions – such as ‘how can we be sure what
God is saying to us?’ – but these were for another day, another sermon.
And
I loved the encouragement at the heart of Ros’s address. Too many sermons lay
heavy burdens on their hearers. Ros was so gentle – like Jesus we are at times
tempted to lose sight our identity as God’s precious children, she said, urging
us rediscover God as the Father, whose love draws us into the light.
I’ve
heard many sermons will all these strengths, which worked as sermons are
supposed to work – God coming to you, whispering in your heart through some of
the preacher’s words.
But
there was something else here, something beyond the words. The words blessed,
but it seemed to me that a deeper blessing came from what, as she spoke, we saw
in the life of Ros herself. I believe God drew near us not just in her words,
but in her character, personality and gentleness.
Ros
told me later she was struggling with toothache that Sunday, which confirms to
me that the impact of her words was the result not of any personal charisma,
but of the loveliness of God seen in her, despite her frailty.
Each
of us can be living sermons – encouraging, relevant, vividly-phrased, not
dodging hard questions. And the loveliness of God is seen in us, a loveliness
which is authentically ours and yet at the same time is the Father’s gift.
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