
Preaching is resurrection practice. It’s an odd rehearsal. The preacher’s robe is from the grave clothes section of liturgical garments.
One foot in front of the other, we, preachers, are led to the pulpit “like a sheep led to the slaughter,” sometimes foolishly cheerfully, but most times eerily, as all roads lead to Calvary (Isaiah 53.7). “We preach Christ crucified” (First Corinthians 1:23) and sing, “Where he leads, we will follow.”
We work with words that work on us, eat a book that is eating us alive. A living sacrifice, preachers squirm under the hands of God on Sunday morning. Dr. Raymond Brown wrote in The Fire of Truth, “The altar reminds us of God’s claim upon (God’s) people.”
Preachers want to be used by God while knowing nothing of ourselves will remain. Perhaps, this is why Charles Spurgeon warned, “You better not begin to preach until you are quite sure that God has called you to the work.”
I stand to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and behind the podium, the sacred desk, is often the last place I want to be. This is the task of the walking dead, a charge that keeps us when we don’t want to be kept, that comes with daily eulogies of the person we used to be. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
We decrease because this message is so much bigger than us. Jesus’ message has nothing to do with me versus you or us and them.
And I have been warned that if I do not repeat after him, then the “hound of heaven” will be after me. Even now, I feel the Spirit breathing down my neck. It is a quick and a slow death.
Eberhard Bethge wrote as editor of Worldly Preaching: Lectures on Homiletics, which documents Dietrich Bonhoeffer teaching on preaching, “That the words of God should come from the mouths of men (and women, if I might add) is (God’s) miracle.” To be sure, they are God’s words, hallowed words, healing words, a mix of our spit and God’s Spirit.
Henry Sloane Coffin judged rightly in What to Preach, “We have an ill-informed Church, often ignorant of and groping after fellowship with the Invisible. (Because) the cry has been: ‘Give us practical sermons, not theology.’” We “preach Christ and him crucified” and yet his followers then and now attempt to avoid it.
And I know suffering is not practical, realistic, reasonable, sensible or, in our minds, feasible. There is never a good time for suffering and a book on how to suffer will not make the New York Times bestsellers list.
Because there are not seven ways to make suffering feel better or twelve steps for a successful sufferer. But it is how God in Christ is known, and there is a group that meets to this end.
I know this to be true because Paul said he wanted to join. He wrote to the Philippians: “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing (fellowship, KJV) of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death…” (3:10).
This is an exclusive club where the membership is morbid. Fees are paid in betrayal and isolation, in rejection and loneliness, in pain and grief, in tragedy and sorrow. But this suffering fellowship will experience the power of Jesus’ resurrection when they stand behind that coffin-pulpit.
What now then? My goal here is two-fold: to encourage those who have paid their dues and to recruit those who have said they want to get closer to God.
One of the promises listed in the Sufferer’s Club brochure reads, “The saying is sure: If we have died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure (if we suffer, KJV), we will also reign with him; if we deny him, he will also deny us; if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself” (Second Timothy 2.11-13, NRSV). I am sure that there are persons at your local church who would be willing to sign you up.
Tongues buried by life’s burdens, coming up from grave circumstances, and trusting that the angels stand in front of the boulder to remove it every single time is one of the highest expressions of faith. It also takes practice. Can I get a witness?