Rules For Preaching

(1) Aim for 30 minutes. Nearly all sermons today are too long. I have heard countless sermons that were very effective for the first 25 minutes, but then the preacher ruined everything by going on for another 20 minutes till I got bored and restless and had forgotten what he said in the first 25.

(2) Start preaching with the very first words that come out of your mouth. Do not talk about what a wonderful time of worship we’ve had, or what happened that morning on your way to church, or the weather, or your kids, or grandkids, or what sports teams you’re a fan of, or any other triviality, or utter some inane nothingness like, “Good morning everybody, how are you all doing?” Shock your audience by having your very first sentence be part of the sermon.

(3) Do not introduce yourself. Not even when you are a guest preacher and nobody knows who you are - and perhaps you are even culturally expected to say a few words about yourself and your ministry. Again, when you get up to the pulpit just start preaching. If people want to find out who you are they can ask later.

(4) No titles. When a speaker introduces himself as “Dr.” So-and-So, I know that I’m in for a bad sermon. (Usually his doctorate is from a DMin anyway, and I don’t regard that as a legitimate degree.) Spurgeon eschewed the title “Reverend.” Good for him. You can’t help what other people call you, but you can help what you call yourself. It is best not to call yourself anything – but if you must say something, just giving your name will suffice.

The disciplined habit of not talking about yourself (even to the point of not mentioning your name!) puts the focus where it belongs: on Christ and Holy Scripture.

(5) You only ever need 2 words to begin a sermon: “Our” and “In.” If the Scripture passage has not been read, begin with “Our Scripture text is…”. If someone else has already read the text before you get to the pulpit, you can always begin very simply with the word “In.” For example, “In verse 6 of our text, the Apostle Paul expresses dismay over the fact that…”; or “In verse 19, opponents of Jesus look for a way to arrest him.”

(6) Do not begin with a story, anecdote or illustration. Yes, I know that famous preachers like Chuck Swindoll and David Jeremiah do this with every sermon, and it’s what I was taught to do in seminary. It’s wrong. Begin with the text and exposition of the text. When you begin with a story you upstage the Scripture, because the Bible passage itself will not be as interesting as your story – especially since, for many people in the congregation, the text will be something they have heard many times before while your story is brand-new.

(7) You may have heard the advice, “You have to start by grabbing their attention.” No you don’t. This is false. You already have their attention just by virtue of the fact that you have stood up to preach. The important thing is not to gain their attention but not to lose it. That is why stories and anecdotes and illustrations are more effectively placed later on in the sermon when attention begins to flag and people need to be snapped back into focus with an illustrative example.

(8) No jokes. There is a distinction to be made here. Casual humor in the course of the message is fine – Tertullian, Martin Luther, Charles Spurgeon, Harry Ironside, Warren Wiersbe and Stuart Briscoe were all very funny men. (Spurgeon, accused of being too comic in the pulpit, protested that he deliberately held his humor in check!). But while natural humor - wry observations, deadpan irony, amusing wordplay and such all have their place (if one has the gift for it), you must never tell an actual joke to warm up the audience. (E.g. “A priest, a rabbi and a Buddhist monk walk into a bar..."). To be clear, no one loves silly jokes more than I (my lovely wife can attest that all who dwell in my presence abide under the shadow of insufferable buffoonery). But never in the pulpit! For that matter, I also love eating French Silk pie and delighting in the ecstasies of conjugal embrace – but I engage in neither while preaching earnestly the Word of God.

(9) Your seriousness of purpose will receive a needed boost if you keep before your mind the sober truth that it is a statistical certainty that some who hear you speak will spend an eternity apart from God.

“Seriousness of purpose” (or John Piper’s excellent phrase, “blood earnestness”) is not to be confused with an unhappy, grim, whining, shrill, or brow-beating manner of expression. In every sermon that John MacArthur preaches he sounds like he wants to strangle you. Mike Fabarez has been sounding like that too. Your congregation should not come away thinking, “Why is he so angry all the time?”

(10) Do not adopt a “preacher voice” or “preaching style” that is distinct from the way you normally communicate important information. The poster child for this mistake is, I’m sorry to say, John Piper. To his credit, Piper is the best question-answerer I have ever heard. If you listen to his “Ask Pastor John” series you will hear exactly the right tone: respectful, patient, earnest and thoughtful as he gives spot-on Scriptural responses to difficult questions. But when he gets into the pulpit, for some reason he tends to transform into such an animated cartoon of preacherly affectations that he can become unlistenable. Preach with a normal voice.

James Montgomery Boice is an outstanding role model for what earnest but unaffected preaching sounds like. So is Tim Keller.

(11) Never say “Repeat after me” or “Say this out loud.” Lots of preachers are doing that these days. It’s patronizing. I’m afraid I just stare dully at a preacher whenever he orders me to say something. Classy grown-up speakers never command their audiences to repeat after them. (Can you imagine C. S. Lewis doing that?)

(12) Never elicit affirmation. A preacher friend of mine peppers his admonishments with the trailing tag-question “Amen?” It’s awful. Ditto for “Are you with me?” or “Right?” or the embarrassingly desperate “Somebody ought to say amen to that!” Instructing your congregation to affirm that you have just said something compelling is a surefire way to degrade your authority and weaken your message.

(13) If a congregation ever applauds some line of yours, it is a sign that you have failed. It is impossible simultaneously to applaud and repent. I have heard countless preachers (Tony Evans and Jack Hayford come to mind) who would deliberately build up rousing crescendos of rhetorical flourishes until people literally stamped their feet with enthusiasm. No one ever comes to Christ that way.

If people applaud you, it means that you are preaching to the choir and not saving anyone’s soul. Erwin Lutzer in later years developed the truly wretched habit of thundering out crowd-pleasing power blasts of rhetoric (several times a sermon!), and then pausing to wait for people to clap.

No one clapped when Jonathan Edwards preached “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” They wept instead, and asked, “What must I do to be saved?”

(14) With regard to tone: Keep in mind that you love people and earnestly desire their ultimate good. This will help to provide a humble, godly contour to the manner with which you speak. You are not there to entertain, scold, impress, or get people to like you. When priorities like that overtake a love for God and people it will definitely show through in one’s bearing and tone.

(15) Voice: Do what you can to speak with quiet, humble but uncompromising authority. Not all preachers are blessed with a natural, fatherly baritone. (Abraham Lincoln, one of the greatest speechmakers of all time, had a notoriously thin high voice). But try your best to sound like a grownup. To me, Mark Jobe’s vocal styling and phrasing frankly makes him sound like a 7th grader. Francis Chan and Crawford Loritts regularly fall into an odd rhythm of hollow wispy squealing that I think is meant to convey earnestness but to me is just off-putting.

Some recordings of C. S. Lewis’ voice are available online. In listening to him you will instantly know that this is an adult who expects to be taken seriously.

(Don Carson, as he aged, wisely eliminated the whistle-tone shrieking that characterized his earlier messages. Of course, even back then when he would go into that excited register that only dogs could hear, the content itself was always rich and deep.)

(16) Be reverent. People need reverence, and long for it even if they don’t know that’s what they’re longing for. Never start a sermon with a funny YouTube video to kick things off. Read Lewis’s sermon The Weight of Glory for a shining example of reverential treatment of sacred themes.

(17) Never tell a supposedly “true story” whose details you cannot verify. The fact that some other preacher related it, or it appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, does not count as verification. I have heard the following emotional taglines in dozens of sermons over the years, and they all come from stories that are 100% fictional.

“I was John Harper’s last convert.”

“The little boy had thought that by donating blood to his sister that he himself was going to die!”

“The estate auction is over. The mogul’s will stipulated that whoever received the (portrait of) his son would inherit the whole estate.”

“Coach, today was the first time my father saw me play.”

“The judge concluded, ‘Evidently, the tavern owner believes in the power of prayer, but the church does not.’”

“The chalk dropped from the atheist professor’s hand, rolled down the sleeve of his jacket, down his pant leg, rolled off his shoe and landed on the floor unbroken.”

“Ma’am,” he responded, “I myself wrote that hymn. I would give anything to feel now what I felt when I first penned it.”

“As the two Moravian missionaries sailed off into a slavery into which they had willingly sold themselves and from which they would never return, they shouted to their friends on the shore, ‘May the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His suffering!’”

Keep in mind the sober fact that your audience knows how to Google. You will kill your credibility with sincere skeptics if you pass along stories that they research and find to be false.

(18) Outlines may be helpful but are not strictly necessary. If you need a 3-point outline to organize your thoughts and help you structure the meaning of the text, by all means use one. But many great speeches of the past (The Gettysburg Address, I Have a Dream) did not use bullet points. Outlines work best as handy tools, but as inhibiting chains they must be discarded. If a sermon has internal cohesion and every sentence proceeds logically from the previous one, then imposing an outline on it (just because your homiletics teacher insisted on it) will only be a distraction.

No one will remember your outlines anyway. They may remember certain insights, interpretations of passages, a quote perhaps, and your stories. But I personally cannot reproduce even one outline from all the thousands of sermons I’ve heard over the years.

(19) It is impossible to address the needs of everyone. In your audience there will be some victims who need comfort, some villains who need rebuke, some weary souls who need relief, some apathetic sluggards who need rousing, some rebels who need to repent, and some legalists who need to chill. The danger is in assuming that everyone in the congregation falls into one of those categories. Alan Redpath preached as if everyone was lazy and complacent. Tullian Tchividjian preached as though everyone was trying too hard already. In today’s evangelical climate, the disturbing trend is to address everyone as though they are already saved. Take for example this recent howler from J. D. Greear: “Right now look at that person to your right or to your left. You may or may not know them...That is a child of the King!” Really, Mr. Greear? All 12,000 people at your megachurch are children of the King? Jesus called Pharisees sons of the devil. I can't believe you don't have at least some of those in your congregation.

Watch your wording lest you imply that everyone you’re talking to is saved rather than damned, or a victim rather than a victimizer, or a lazy wretch rather than a conscientious saint.

(20) Some preachers insist on preaching without notes, some prefer an outline, some use a full manuscript. To your own self be true. Only preach without notes if you are extraordinarily gifted (e.g. George Mattheson, Stuart Briscoe. Spurgeon used very sparse notes.) I don’t recommend it for ordinary mortals. Mortals become wordy, repetitive and cliché-driven when they try to preach noteless.

My case for a full manuscript (a la Jonathan Edwards, David Jeremiah, John Piper, Philip Ryken):

-It keeps the sermon tight. You are less likely to waste words. It makes it easier to limit yourself to about 30 minutes.

-It prevents errors. You have time to look up everything beforehand so that you don’t confuse Elijah and Elisha, or misquote a key verse that you half-remembered on the fly.

-You never lose your place or train of thought, or make your audience feel sorry for you as you scramble out of a tough spot and try to be coherent.

-When preaching extemporaneously it’s almost impossible not to resort to stock phrases and stale means of expression. Noteless preachers also become annoyingly repetitive, regularly spouting 50 words when 8 will do. A manuscript allows you to be fresh, concise and compelling.

=You can use the sermon again when preaching in another location (and editing it to actually get it right this time!).

Of course, having a manuscript does not mean that you stare at it, looking down and reading it the whole way. Go over it several times beforehand so that it is well enough in mind that you are relatively free from it.

When preparing a manuscript sermon, constantly keep in mind that written and spoken communication are inherently different. You are not writing an essay but a sermon, something not designed to be read but to be heard. As you prepare, speak your sentences out loud and write down what you speak. Take dictation on yourself. This will help you to avoid sounding stilted and formal.

(21) Conclude your sermon with a prayer that you have written out in full. (The eyes of your congregants will be closed so they won’t see you reading it.) Preachers who “wing it” with their concluding prayer nearly always, in my experience, flail about and go on way too long. That hinders effectiveness. In messages that conclude evangelistically, I like to pray a simple conversion prayer and invite people to pray along silently with me if they want to trust Christ.

(22) My lovely wife read the above and said, “If someone follows your advice, he will never be a megachurch pastor.” Yes. Good. I have no problem with that.

Do Regenerate Men Cheat On Their Wives?

“Regenerate” means “born again.” It comes from John chapter 3, where Jesus told Nicodemus, a deeply religious Bible teacher, that unless a man is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God. Jesus also said to him, “Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’”

So even deeply religious Bible teachers need to be “born again,” or regenerate. We can’t assume that they already are. But how can you tell if a man is regenerate?

It is not always easy. We cannot read minds, and we don’t know a man’s secrets. Only God knows them. The Bible says that Jesus did not entrust himself to everyone “because he knew all people. He did not need testimony about anyone, for he knew all men” (John 2:24-25). The best example is Judas. Only Jesus knew that Judas was bad. He said to his disciples, “Have I not chosen you 12, and one of you is a devil?” (John 6:70). The other disciples had no idea that an evil man walked among them. Presumably Judas preached the kingdom of God as well as the rest. When Jesus said that one of them would betray him, they humbly asked, “Is it I?” (Matthew 26:22) rather than point suspicious fingers at Judas.

Sincere Christians can be fooled by imposters. I have been badly fooled myself a number of times. In many cases the deception will probably only be revealed in the afterlife, when we appear before the judgment seat of Christ and give an account to God (2 Corinthians 5:10; Romans 14:12). St. Paul said that on that day, “according to my gospel, God will judge the secrets of men by Christ Jesus” (Romans 2:16). Jesus gave fair warning: “There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known” (Luke 12:2).

In the meantime though, we are not completely in the dark. Certain clues reveal a man’s heart. The simplest is this: a bad man does bad things. Jesus said, “A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit...by their fruits you will know them” (Matthew 7:17-20). St. John said, “Whoever says, ‘I know him,’ but does not do what he commands is a liar, and the truth is not in him” (1 John 2:4). Unregenerate men reveal their spiritual condition by their disobedience to Jesus’ commands. It does not matter if they preach well, manage big churches, instruct seminarians, or write influential books. What does matter is if they obey Jesus.

Last month the Reformed Evangelical community was shocked to hear that Rev. Steve Lawson, 73, had been abruptly fired by his church and the seminary where he was academic dean. Until his firing Lawson had been highly regarded, and few within his circle doubted his integrity. This married father of four authored about 30 books and was much in demand as a speaker and elder statesman in the branch of Christendom to which he belonged. But then we learned that for the last five years he has been involved with a woman in her late 20s. His conscience never provoked a confession or repentance. He only admitted the affair when threatened with exposure by the woman’s father.

When The Roys Report gave the story I responded in the comment section with just these eight words: “Regenerate men do not cheat on their wives.”

That drew a mostly hostile response from fellow Christians, though a few agreed with me. I give no quarter on this issue. I attribute the pushback to a lack of familiarity with the Bible, a tendency to cherry-pick verses interpreted to mean that we can hold God in contempt while remaining confident of his favor, and anemic preaching that has dulled the ears of our generation. So it seemed good to make my case in fuller detail.

In the Old Testament, the prescribed penalty for adultery was death. Not “offer a lamb sacrifice and say you’re sorry and you’ll be restored,” but, “Die.” Some sins could be atoned for (symbolically at least) with the blood of an animal. But adultery was something you paid for with your own blood.

Some think that the New Testament is nicer to adulterers, but in fact it is more severe. Old Testament adulterers were merely stoned to death; New Testament adulterers are told they’re going to hell. 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 says that adulterers are among those who will not inherit the kingdom of God. Galatians 5:19-21 also says they will not inherit the kingdom of God. Ephesians 5:5 says that they have no inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God. Revelation 21:8 says that they will be confined to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. If those verses frighten us, they should. They are good verses to contemplate when tempted to marital unfaithfulness. If you are close to cheating on your wife, ask yourself, “Do I want to be in the kingdom of God or the fiery lake of burning sulfur? Am I born again or am I not?”

I know the counterarguments, because I have heard them over and over again for the last 40 years. They never change, and they never seriously engage the texts cited above. Most critically, they betray a fundamental misunderstanding of what salvation is, and what born-again people are saved from. I will respond briefly to three common challenges to my affirmation that regenerate men do not cheat on their wives.

(1) King David was an adulterer, and obviously he was saved.

David took his friend Uriah’s wife Bathsheba and arranged to have him killed in battle. It is hard to imagine that a man of God could do such a thing. But it’s right there in the Bible, so, why shouldn’t megachurch preachers today indulge their dark side from time to time while still maintaining a happy, eternal fellowship with God?

First, it is monstrously inappropriate to compare a king from 3,000 years ago to modern-day Christians. David had none of our advantages. The New Testament had not been written. Jesus had not been born. The Holy Spirit had not been given to the church. “To whom much is given, much will be required,” (Luke 12:48), and we who live this side of the cross have been given so much more than David that it is absurd to think we will behave no better than he. We don’t compare the basketball skills of an 8-year-old to those of a Division I athlete. A third grader might be a prodigy if he can do long division and manipulate fractions, but those operations are second nature for a graduate student in mathematics. We ought not compare David to ourselves but to his peers: Iron-Age Middle-Eastern absolute monarchs. In that realm of villainous despots, the amazing thing is that David had a conscience at all.

Second, David repented immediately when rebuked. He wept, fasted, worshiped, and wrote a psalm of heart-breaking confession (Psalm 51). After that, as far as we know, he never again took another man’s wife. This is in marked contrast to today’s adulterous preachers (Bill Hybels, Ravi Zacharias, Steve Lawson, etc.) who defy God for years – decades even – and never show the slightest lament.

Third, David paid the price. He was not stoned to death as the law demanded, so in that narrow sense he was forgiven. But God made it clear that things would not go on as before. “Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, because you have despised me and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife.” (2 Samuel 12:10). In the wake of David’s sin there followed within his household the abominations of incestuous rape, fratricide, and the usurpation of his throne by his own son Absalom that made him, for a time, a homeless fugitive. David was not welcomed to God’s side like the prodigal son of Luke 15 with a party and rings and a fattened calf and great rejoicing. He spent the remainder of his days under the dark cloud of God’s discipline. He knew he deserved it.

So enough already with these fatuous comparisons to King David every time a big-name preacher acts like a son of hell. There is a good reason why defenders of adulterous pastors always trot out the example of David rather than New Testament apostles. That is because there are no known examples of the disciples of Jesus committing adultery. They go to prison for Christ, they get beaten for Christ, and they die for Christ - but they don’t get filthy rich and cheat on their wives.

(2) Jesus forgave an adulterous woman and let her go free.

Maybe. The famous story in John 8 of the woman caught in adultery (“Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone...Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more”) is not found in any of the oldest and best Greek manuscripts. Modern translations rightly put it in a footnote, or bracket the text and put it in italics with an explanation that there is good cause to doubt that it was originally part of John’s gospel. This account should not be assumed to be authentic.

But suppose for argument’s sake that it is authentic. Even if true, no Christian should apply its seeming leniency to himself. The adulterous woman was not a disciple of Jesus – she was a stranger dragged in off the street. We have no reason to think she was born again. She made no such claim. The words “Neither do I condemn you…” are best applied to unconverted sinners who are candidates for the kingdom, not to pastors who say they have been following Christ for years.

Further, Jesus’ concluding words “Go and sin no more” (or, “Now leave your life of sin”) must be taken seriously. They match what he said to the lame man he healed in John 5:14: “Stop sinning, or something worse may happen to you.” One wonders what Jesus would have said if the same woman had been brought back a week later having been caught in adultery all over again. God’s grace is not a license to sin. The lesson of John 8, if authentic, is, “Even lowlife sinners can repent, be forgiven, and become followers of Jesus”; not, “Born-again pastors can cheat repeatedly and not fear a word of condemnation.”

(3) All sins are the same in God’s eyes.

No they’re not. The Bible makes this point repeatedly. Some sins are worse than others. Jesus said to Pontius Pilate, “He who delivered me over to you has the greater sin” (John 19:11) – that is, “Your sin is bad, but his sin is worse.” In Matthew 23:23 Jesus referred to “the weightier matters of the law,” which pertained to “justice and mercy and faith.” (Lighter matters of the law in that text were about tithing.) In Matthew 12:31 Jesus distinguished between blasphemy that will be forgiven and blasphemy that will not be forgiven. I am not here trying to interpret this difficult text, but simply noting that, according to Jesus, not all blasphemies are equally severe.

While Jesus was merciful to sinners, he was not universally and unconditionally so. For example, when it came to the sin of corrupting little ones who believed in him, Jesus did not talk about how loving and forgiving God was toward these exploiters but rather how much better it would be for them to have millstones hung around their necks and be cast into the sea (Matthew 18:6).

All sins are not equally bad. In the Old Testament, some sins were atoneable, but when a person sinned “with a high hand” (or in some translations, “deliberate defiance”) that person was to be “cut off from among his people” (see Numbers 15). In the New Testament, while we are encouraged to be “tenderhearted, forgiving one another” (Ephesians 5:32) in recognition of the fact that no one is without sin (Romans 3:10, 1 John 1:8), we also understand that some sins are so outrageous that those who persist in them are to be expelled from the Christian community (1 Corinthians 5:13: “Expel the wicked person from among you.”)

Cheating on your wife for years in the manner of Steve Lawson and other religious hypocrites is not a regrettable misdemeanor - a “hiccup” in an otherwise blameless life - but a true spiritual felony, a fatal corruption, a stark outward manifestation of an unregenerate heart. Lawson and his ilk must be born again.

I know that some will say, “But can’t Christians sin away and still be saved? After all, nothing can separate us from the love of God. And we cannot be plucked out of the Father’s hand.”

I’m afraid that this response betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of Christian faith and practice. Perhaps some of the mist of confusion may be dispelled by asking the simple question, “What do you think Christians are saved from?

“Hell,” “damnation” or “the wrath of God” is only part of the answer. The Bible says that Jesus “will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21). Not merely God’s wrathful response to sin, but the sin itself. What’s the point of being delivered from the penalty of sin if one remains enslaved to its practice? How could a person enjoy (or even tolerate) the presence of God if he spends his life defying God with unholy abandon?

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matthew 5:6), and I believe it is significant that he did not say, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for eternal bliss.” Everyone and his brother wants that. Who doesn’t want salvation from unhappiness? But the Lord favors those who seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, not those who seek pleasant security without personal cost. “Blessed are the pure in heart,” Jesus said, “for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8). A wise preacher once commented, “Only the pure in heart will want to see God.”

As for the promise never to be plucked out of God’s hand (no matter what sins we commit?), it is important to note to whom that promise is given in John 10. It is given to Jesus’ spiritual sheep. Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). Sheep who follow Jesus cannot be plucked out of the Father’s hand. But a man who chases skirts is not following Jesus, and so this promise has no meaning for him or application to him.

As for the promise that “nothing can separate us from the love of God,” (Romans 8:39), who are the “us” to whom that promise is given? The “us” are defined in verses 28 and 29: those who love God and are conformed to the image of his Son. But men who cheat on their wives hate God (though they might claim otherwise), and are being conformed not to the image of his Son but to the image of the devil. So they don’t meet the conditions of the promise. They don’t belong in the group that rejoices in the assurance of being united eternally to the love of God.

God loves to redeem the most wretched of sinners, save them from their sin, and make new people out of them. But they have to want that. They cannot reject regeneration and still cherish hopes of salvation. The message that must be preached to Bible experts like Steve Lawson and to vile sex traffickers like P. Diddy is the same: “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. Repent of your sin, throw yourself upon his mercy, and beg for the grace of a new life as you are remade in the image of Christ. Marvel not that I say unto you, ’You must be born again.’”

A Christian Response to Drag Queens on the Bridge

Offense and outrage seem to characterize the Christian responses I have heard so far to the drag queen reenactment of The Last Supper at the opening festivities of the Parisian Olympics yesterday. After dancing about provocatively, participants assembled themselves into a live tableau intended to mimic Da Vinci's famous work of art. A loud chorus of denunciations across all media soon followed. The bit was a tasteless, ugly, mean-spirited, blasphemous mockery of a sacred event that Christians hold dear.

I have a word to say to my fellow Christians on this matter.

We Christians should be used to mockery. Our Lord Jesus experienced derision and contempt in spades, and set us an example for how to respond to it. 1 Peter 2:23 says, “When they hurled their insults at him he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats.” Jesus was spit upon, verbally taunted, and beaten to a pulp. His enemies put a crown of thorns on his head and a scepter in his hands, and then bowed to him in mock worship: “Hail, King of the Jews!” His response was to pray, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Jesus said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44). So even if we regard ourselves as victims of drag queen persecution, that just means we should love them and pray for them.

The apostles of Jesus learned this lesson well and passed it on to their readers. Peter wrote, “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing” (1 Peter 3:9). Paul wrote, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse” (Romans 12:14). He also wrote, “When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly” (1 Corinthians 4:12-13).

That is the Christian way. If it is important for you that your religion be esteemed and respected, then perhaps you need to pick a different religion. Biblical Christianity isn’t for you. Real Christians carry a cross as they follow a much-despised Messiah. Hebrews 13:13 says, “Let us, then, go to him outside the camp, bearing the disgrace he bore.” Opposition along the way will come as no shock. 1 John 3:13 says, “Do not be surprised, my brothers and sisters, if the world hates you.” And 1 Peter 4:12 says, “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you.”

Calm love, thoughtful engagement, earnest prayer and humble indifference to scornful contempt are the best answers to blasphemous reenactments on display at the Paris Olympics. Who knows? Maybe some day some of those drag queens will bow the knee to Jesus Christ, and take to themselves with trembling hands the bread of blessing and the cup of hope.

In The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, when young Edmund set out on a traitorous mission he came across a statued lion that he thought was Aslan turned to stone. He scribbled a mustache and spectacles on the figure and sported with it contemptuously, saying, "Yah! Silly old Aslan! How do you like being a stone?"

Later, of course, the real Aslan showed up, and submitted to death on the Great Stone Table so that the one who mocked him might live.

Eulogy For My Brother Dave

My brother’s effect on my life was only ever positive.

For example, when I was in 8th grade he gave me two vocabulary books, "6 Weeks to Words of Power" and "How to Increase Your Word Power." Such gifts epitomized his logophilic beneficence, but he was never overly conspontuous about it.

My brother knew that words are the media of thought, and the more you mastered words, the better you could absorb the wisdom of ages, and appropriate for yourself the beauties and the delights of thinkers and poets who felt grand sentiments and knew how to convey them.

Words are the carriers of thought, and my brother was never at a loss for them. He was always ready to tell you a story that just might shape your soul.

For example, at the time of our father’s funeral, when I was 17, he pulled me aside to tell me about an incident that occurred sometime around the year I was born. Our father had volunteered to paint the church basement. He finished it one Saturday and was so exhausted that the next day in church Dad fell asleep. An usher passed by and nudged my 13-year-old brother Dave, grinned and pointed at Dad, as though to say, “Get a load of your old man, asleep in the pew.” That made Dave angry. You don’t make fun of my dad. Then it got worse. Because from the pulpit the pastor thanked the man who contributed the money to buy the paint, but made no mention of dad’s donation of labor. By this point Dave was ready to hit somebody. Afterwards he asked dad, “Dad, doesn’t it bother you that the guy who gave the money gets recognized and thanked, but nobody knows what you did or thanks you.”

And Dad replied, “Son, my reward is not here.”

You can’t imagine how many times over the past 44 years those words have resonated in me, rebuked my vanity, and rejoiced my heart to know that I was not raised by a man whose mind was set on earthly things, but whose citizenship and treasure were in heaven. It was my father who said those words and lived a life worthy of their expression, but it was my brother Dave who remembered them, and put the whole account into words, and even wrote it down, and made sure it got passed along and could bear ever-ripening fruit for decades to come.

Those of you who knew Dave are aware that his delight in noble and transcendent thoughts existed side-by-side with a personality that would say, “Here, pull my finger.” I fell for that one when I was 11 years old. I remember Dave erupting with laughter when he said, “Yeah, Marsha fell for it twice.”

Quite a few times in my own marriage when I’ve been irresistibly tempted to make some comment that lacks decorum but that I find funny, I have said to my wife, “You should be glad I’m not my brother! He has no filter at all.”

Isn’t that right, Marsha?

Poor Marsha is the one who had to endure my brother’s comic flights of lunacy. Like the time he got really bored in a worship service when they were singing, slowly, over and over again, “Hallelujah, hallelujah...” Dave decided to make up his own lyrics and he sang them out loud. “This is boring, can we go now, pass the offering, this is boring…”

The rest of us when we heard Dave relate that story laughed so hard our heads hurt. But of course we didn’t have to stand next to him, mortified, while he was doing it.

So, this is as good a time as any to say publically what I have long felt in my heart. I know that my brother Dave was a great man. A great, wise and generous man. But I also know that great men can be impossible to live with. I know that from reading biographies and from personal observation. Therefore I tell you the truth, one greater than David is here. And we need not wait for a far future funeral to acknowledge that. So, Marsha, on behalf of all Lundquists, living and dead, thank you for loving, enduring, and putting up our brother Dave.

Proverbs 17:22 says, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine, but a broken spirit dryeth the bones.” I know that my brother’s heart was not always merry. But more important, he made the hearts of others merry with his antics and wry observations and outright slapstick.

A few years ago my wife found a meme online - a poster picture of 6 or 7 apples, each with a single bite taken out. The caption read, “Life with a toddler.” It was probably put up by some exasperated parent whose child had taken one bite apiece out of several apples. And Lisa said to me, “This reminds me of your brother Dave!” She was referring to a story Dave liked to tell, where on Teacher Appreciation Day some kind soul had put an apple in each of the teachers’ cubbyholes. Dave went up and took a bite out of each apple, then put the apple back with the good side facing out. And then he sat down to watch teachers come in so he could enjoy the results of their appalling discoveries.

There it is, life with a toddler. My brother had a brilliant mind and a toddler’s sense of fun. Few things are more joyful than hearing the laughter of a small child. Dave could cackle like a toddler well into his 70s.

And nothing was off-limits. Like the time he suffered a gruesome injury, losing a finger to a malevolent garage door. It took Dave almost no time to realize that that was comedy gold. Because for one thing, it was the same finger on the same hand at the same knuckle joint of the famous missing middle digit of Jerry Garcia. And for another thing, it gave Dave the opportunity to write some light comic poetry about now only being able to flip you half a bird.

Dave could laugh in the face of injury. But can you laugh in the face of death? Many draw the line there. Death is the ultimate taboo topic for many. There are people who pride themselves on their ability to engage any subject at all but they will shudder at the mention of death and say, “Please talk about something else! Change the subject!”

But not in our family. In-laws have noted with amazement that we are the “death family” because the topic does not phase us at all. In April of 2001, my brother came to the Chicago area for our mother’s funeral. While there he dropped in on an old friend whose wife met Dave at the door. She was in tears, distraught. She explained, “I’m sorry you caught me at this time Dave. I’m upset because my dog died.” And Dave listened for quite some time as she spilled out her grief. He sympathized with her, thinking all the while, “Boy I bet I can top this!” Finally came that magic moment when she said, “So, Dave, what brings you to Chicago?”

Once again, as Dave related that story to me with uncontrolled chortling, I laughed so hard I thought I was going to have stroke and die myself.

Now I don’t believe that it is mere morbidity or a perverse delight in dark humor that accounts for the ease with which our family broaches the topic of death. There is more to it than that. It’s a matter of our knowing something about death so glorious as to extinguish all fear of it. Hebrews chapter 2 verse 15 talks about those who all their lives were held captive by their fear of death. But followers of Christ need not fear it. Because Jesus Christ, Son of God, conquered death, rose again from it, and he gives eternal life to all who trust in him. For those who trust in Christ, the Bible says, “Nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God.” As the hymn-writer Christian Gellert wrote, “Jesus lives, and death is now but my entrance into glory. Courage then, my soul, for thou hast a crown of life before thee. Thou shalt find thy hopes were just. Jesus is the Christian’s trust.” Or as St. Paul said, on death row, awaiting trial under Nero Caesar, “I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far. To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

I’m sure my brother would approve my quoting John Donne at this point:

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and Dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me... One short sleep past, we wake eternally. And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Over the years my brother gave me many books to read. One of them was a thick book of anecdotes, taken mostly from historical sources. When he gave it to me he opened it up and pointed out a story about Joseph Addison, 18th century British scholar and statesman. It said that on his deathbed Addison called for his stepson, Lord Warwick, and said to him his final words: “See in what peace a Christian can die.”

Ever since Dave showed that to me I have wanted those to be my final words too. They probably won’t be my final words, because if I die suddenly there won’t be time to say them, and if I die slowly my brain will be too addled and my body too wracked with pain to say anything significant. But even if the words themselves cannot be expressed, may the truth and the reality still hold: “See in what peace a Christian can die.” And for that matter, see in what peace the body of a Christian can be laid to rest.

Let us pray.

Father, thank you for the life that was Dave Lundquist. Thank you for his generosity of spirit, and for the privilege I had of growing up under his broad shadow. Thank you for the mercy you had on his soul through your Son Jesus Christ. If there are any here who fear death, and rightly fear it, because their sins have hidden your face from them, grant them even now faith by which they repent and cry out to you for mercy, and then receive the glad assurance that all who call upon the name of the Lord will be saved. And as we await the consummation of that deliverance, please give us a special measure of grace to honor and imitate everything about Dave in which he honored and imitated Jesus Christ, his Savior and ours. Amen.