YOU and GOD

From time to time I share some good counsel that preachers of yesteryear have left for the generations to come. I hope these words of advice will bless and help preachers of this 21^st century.

Charles G. Finney, 19^th-century evangelist, wrote an article with the title “How to Preach So As to Convert Nobody.” Here are his salient points:

• Let your supreme motive be popularity rather than salvation;
• Study to please your congregation and to make a reputation rather than to please God;
• Take up popular, passing, and sensational themes to draw the crowd, and avoid the essential doctrines of salvation;
• Denounce sin in the abstract, but pass lightly over sins that prevail in your congregation;
• Preach on the loveliness of virtue and the glory of heaven, but not on the sinfulness of sin;
• Reprove the sins of the absent, but make those who are present pleased with themselves, so that they will enjoy the sermon and not go away feeling hurt;
• Make the impression on worldly church members that God is too good to send anyone to hell, even if there is a hell;
• Preach the universal Fatherhood of God and brotherhood of man so as to show that no second birth is really needed.

Forty years ago, Warren Wiersbe wrote, in his Prokope Back to the Bible bimonthly publication, that it would behoove all pastors to “polish up the pulpit” with some improved basic language skills. He wrote, “Clear preaching begins with clear thinking…If the preacher doesn’t know what he is talking about, neither will anyone else.”

Wiersbe continued: “This means that the propositional statement for each sermon must be accurate, precise, and clear.”  He warned against such statements as “I just want to share a few thoughts about the atonement,” saying that such a statement is an “invitation to a homiletical disaster,” as opposed to something like the following: “Because Jesus Christ has died for us, we have four exciting privileges.” This advice is no less pertinent for preaching effectively in 2026 than it was 40 years ago.

A couple of years ago, when I was filling a pulpit about 35 minutes from where we live, I would listen to Dr. Wiersbe on my way to the church where I would be preaching. This practice extended over several months, and soon I looked forward to tuning in this program on the BBN radio network. The recorded messages were from Moody Church in Chicago, where he pastored. Ellen and I were both blessed by listening to his clear exposition, which was originally delivered decades ago but seemed as if it had been recorded a week before. Good preaching, crafted and delivered by sound, proven principles, is always effective and never “out of date.” Here are a few more of Dr. Wiersbe’s words of wisdom:

• “We preachers should avoid using the word “things” when a more precise word could do a better job. ‘This Psalm reveals several things about the Christian life,’ is very weak to me. What’s wrong with, ‘In the Psalm, God reveals five wonderful resources that we have as believers in Jesus Christ?’”
• “Another area that needs polishing is the preachers’ general vocabulary. Unless you are a converted gangster, try to avoid words like ‘guys’ ‘dopes,’ and other expressions that only cheapen the pulpit.”
• “While we are at it, let’s avoid the cliches that make the rounds—such as meaningless phrases as ‘point in time,’ and ‘let’s plug into it.’”
• “I am not pleading for artificial language or an academic vocabulary. Be yourself, but be your best self. Words are tools…and we want to know how to use them the best way possible.”
• “What Erasmus wrote his friend, Colet, ought to be true of us as the preachers of God’s truth: ‘You say what you mean, and you mean what you say. Your words have birth in your heart, not on your lips, your thoughts being shaped by them. You have the happy art of expressing with ease what others can hardly express with the greatest labor.’”

T. L. Cuyler, American Presbyterian minister and writer (1822-1909), left these pithy words of wisdom for preachers to “chew on”: “The life of a faithful, courageous, and consecrated minister is not a swing in a hammock. Go to that all-wise and loving Master and ask Him the question, ‘Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?’ Your great business is to win souls to Jesus Christ and to build them up in Godly living. Your divine commission is to ‘Preach the Word.’ The backbone of your work in the pulpit ought to be doctrinal. A man who cannot get into a holy glow over such themes as the atonement, the new birth, the glories of redemption, the resurrection, and the judgment to come can never be a great preacher or hold thoughtful minds under the spell of his power. Steep your sermons in God’s Word and in prayer so that when you preach them they will infuse iron into the blood. Preaching is not paper reading, nor is it merely frothy gush. It is the faithful presentation of God’s inspired truth to immortal souls…the chief element that awakens and converts souls is the unction of the Holy Spirit. Load your piece with God’s truth, take good aim, and then fire away.”

From a collection of Puritan Prayers: “O my Lord, let not my ministry be approved only by men, or merely win the esteem and affection of people; Save me from self-opinion and self-seeking; Water the hearts of those who hear Thy Word, that seed sown in weakness may be raised in power; Cause me and those who hear me to behold Thee here in the light of special faith, and hereafter in the blaze of endless glory.” (The Valley of Vision—A collection of Puritan Prayers—copied)

“Preach the Word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all longsuffering and doctrine.” (II Tim.4:2)

As we have noted, there is more than one command in the New Testament that believers should be hospitable. In fact, even as one reads the Old Testament Torah, God gave the Israelites several injunctions concerning their treatment of “strangers,” always reminding them that they were once strangers for 400 years in Egypt. So, how’s your practice of hospitality?

Karen Mains, in her book Open Heart, Open Home, has shared some good insights on the difference between “entertaining” and “hospitality.” She writes, “Entertainment says, ‘I want to impress you with my home, my clever decorating, my cooking.’  Hospitality, seeking to minister, says, ‘This home is a gift from my Master. I use it as He desires.’ Hospitality aims to serve. Entertaining puts things before people. ‘As soon as I get the house finished, the living room decorated, my house-cleaning done—then I will start inviting people.’ Hospitality puts people first. ‘No furniture—we’ll just eat on the floor!’ ‘The decorating may never get done—you come anyway.’ ‘The house is a mess—but you are friends—come home with us.’ Entertaining subtly declares ‘This home is mine, an expression of my personality. Look, please admire.’ Hospitality whispers, ‘What is mine is yours.’”

I do not know who wrote this “Prayer of Welcome,” but it is worth repeating: “O God, make the door of this home wide enough to receive all who need human love and fellowship; narrow enough to shut out all envy, pride and strife. Make it a threshold small enough to be no stumbling block, but rugged enough and strong enough to turn back the tempter’s power. God, make the door of this house the gateway to Thine eternal kingdom, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

Fifty years ago, in a column titled “Eutychus and His Kin,” a writer for Christianity Today (June 3, 1977) underscored the striking absence of hospitality in many churches: “Singer John Charles Thomas, now sixty-six, wrote a few months ago about an interesting project he undertook because he moves about a great deal: ‘I am presently completing the second year of a three-year survey on hospitality or lack of it in churches. To date, of the 195 churches I have visited, I was spoken to only once by someone other than an official greeter—and that was to ask me to move my feet.’”

When Ellen and I moved to Dallas in 1969, we of course wanted to find a Bible-preaching church to be involved in. We visited the First Baptist Church of Dallas, Texas, pastored at that time by the eloquent W. A. Criswell—not with the intent of visiting more than once, but just for the experience of hearing this renowned pulpiteer expound. We were not disappointed with the message! Interestingly, the next night, two members from that church were at our front door to speak with us about the Lord, and to invite us back to FBC of Dallas. The next night!

There was a small, independent Baptist church about five minutes from where we lived. The greeter, “Bucky,” was always at the front door with a bulletin, a warm smile, and a hearty hand-shake. But that was virtually the extent of the welcome extended to us. More than once, I invited the pastor to our house, but the invitation fell on deaf ears. We did join that church because it was an independent Baptist church so close to where we lived, and the older pastor was an excellent expositor of the Word of God. He never failed to feed his sheep well. But there was no hospitality evident for the two or three years we were there. It seemed that—with the exception of Bucky—it was a small club. Those years taught us the importance of reaching out to every family, with priority given to visiting families.

Years ago, I ran across this interesting testimony: “A Chicago businessman called his wife to get her OK for him to bring home a visiting foreigner as a guest for dinner that night. At the time, the wife had three children in school and one preschooler, so there were plenty of more important things to do than entertain strangers. But she consented and the meal came off without a hitch. The foreigner, an important Spanish official, never forgot that meal. Years later, some friends of the Chicago family went to Spain as missionaries. Their work was brought to a standstill, however, by government regulations. When the Spanish official got word that the missionaries were friends of that Chicago family, he used his influence to clear the restrictions from the missionaries. There is a church today in that province of Spain, due in part to that one meal.”

So many blessings and benefits accrue to those who obey God’s simple command: “Use hospitality.” It was important in 60 A.D.—and remains no less important to the Church of which Jesus Christ was the Founder and remains the Head in 2026. Use hospitality. You will not be sorry!

“Distributing to the necessity of the saints; use hospitality.” (Romans 12:13)

That command occurs in I Peter 4:9, given at a time when the church, still in its infancy, was aware that there were many believers, persecuted severely, who had lost everything they had. They would fit the description of the apostle John, who wrote: “Beloved thou doest faithfully whatsoever thou doest to the brethren and to strangers which have borne witness of thy charity before the church; whom if thou bring forward on their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well: because that for His name’s sake they went forth, taking nothing of the Gentiles.” (III John 5-7) Hospitality was not only nice, it was needed; thus we read in Hebrews 13:2: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

How about hospitality in this 21^st century? Maybe not so common, especially here in America. But when I was about 12 years old, one of the men in our church often invited someone to Sunday dinner—without notifying his wife ahead of time. Instead, he waited until they were heading home after church to announce to her: “By the way, I invited so and so to dinner today.” We happened to be one of those “lucky “families one Sunday, and the hospitable man’s wife was ready for us: We all enjoyed peanut-butter sandwiches for Sunday dinner! Better than the sandwiches, though, was the good fellowship enjoyed by all! (I still remember that occasion 70+ years later!)

Another time that stands out in my memory was when, as a Bible college student, a friend and I were driving up to Roan Mountain (from Greenville, SC) on a Sunday morning to check out the prospects of a youth ministry there. We got about half-way there and wanted to attend church somewhere; and there was a Presbyterian church nearby, just outside of Burnsville, NC. So we stopped in. It was a very small assembly gathered for worship, and they did not have a preacher that Sunday. Following the service, an elderly looking lady introduced herself as “Viney.” She said she lived very close by and asked if we would like to come to dinner. We did not hesitate to say, “Sure!” And so began a friendship that would involve my buddy and I being the recipients of some genuine Southern hospitality. On future weekends, we would travel that route to Bakersville, NC, stopping about half-way to spend Saturday night at the hospitable home of our friends near Burnsville. Mrs. H would have a chicken dinner on the table (often we got there late) with all the trimmings, plus a chocolate cake that we enjoyed before climbing into our beds, with covers turned down over clean sheets. How could anyone ever forget that kind of hospitality to virtual strangers? (Not that we were angels by any stretch of the imagination!)

Well, there are many such instances to recall; I know any evangelist could recite story after story of unusual experiences while traveling. The most unusual experience I ever had was when I was traveling each weekend to a small town 175 miles northwest of Dallas, Texas, to preach on Sundays for a church without a pastor. I was a student at Dallas Theological Seminary and also worked full-time at the Dallas County Detention Center. One Sunday, I invited a buddy to go with me as Ellen had three little ones to care for at home. We arrived at the church and, as planned, I preached the morning sermon, after which the wife of the church’s main leader invited us over for lunch, announcing it would be “bologna” sandwiches. I thanked her for the invitation, secretly sure that “bologna sandwiches” were not really what we would eat for Sunday dinner. This man had a good job, and the family was comfortably well to do. So, Ron and I showed up for Sunday dinner, and while the hostess finished with last-minute preparations, we conversed with the head of the house until his wife announced, “Dinner is ready.” When we got to the dining room, the wife directed each of us to our chairs. Sitting down at our appointed places, my friend and I salivated over the prospect of a delicious, hot meal, since it had been a long drive and a long day. We were a bit surprised when the hostess delivered beautiful, juicy steaks to her own plate, as well as her husband’s and teenage daughter’s plates—and set a bologna sandwich in front of me and my seminary friend. She did this matter-of-factly and without a change of expression on her countenance. So, without a word of surprise—and, hopefully, with no change of expression on our faces—Ron and I ate our bologna sandwiches, thanked our hosts for the dinner, and returned to the what was then a vacant house to get some rest before the evening service. (We also probably ate the sack lunches that our wives had packed.) After the evening service, we made the trip back to Dallas.  

I never figured out why that happened that way, but it did not keep me from continuing my interim ministry there until the Lord moved us to Wichita, Kansas in September of 1971, where more valuable lessons—mostly precious, a few painful—awaited us before He would move us to Indianapolis, where we have ministered for 47 years now, the last 7 years as a retired “pastor emeritus.” (More on hospitality in a later blog.)

“And Joanna the wife of Chuza Herod’s steward, and Susanna, and many others… ministered unto Him (Jesus) of their substance.” (Luke 8:3)

The late Dr. Keith Knauss was my pastor in my teen years in Ottumwa, Iowa. He received his training in the Practical Bible Institute in New York, and he was an excellent teacher, pastor, and author of several books. I grew under his ministry but had not felt called to preach; and, upon graduation from Ottumwa High School in 1961, I attended a school founded by a Presbyterian minister in 1851—Coe College in Cedar Rapids—to prepare for a law career. As I recall, I received a small (though $500 seemed pretty substantial at the time!) scholarship from the Lions Club or some such organization, which I used for some of the tuition expenses.

During those years at Calvary Baptist Church, where Pastor Knauss was teaching God’s Word faithfully, God had been working in my heart, preparing me already for ministry. A friend, Tom Kent, also a member of Calvary, taught math in the public school. Though he was older than I, we shared a love for people and for ministering. An American Baptist Church in our neighborhood was without a pastor and about ready to fold. One of its members got ahold of Tom and asked if he would preach for them. Tom asked if I would help—he would preach in the morning if I would preach in the evening. I was still in high school but welcomed the opportunity to share God’s Word (what little I really knew of it). On top of this, we later teamed up to sweep out dust in some churches in northeast Missouri that had long ago closed their doors, to hold some summer VBS weeks for children in the area. Tom had grown up in this area, and his folks still lived across the street from one of these churches in Coatesville, so he had lots of contacts. We conducted evening services as well, alternating nights of preaching. I had to borrow some sermon outlines from Pastor Knauss to keep afloat, so to speak!

One semester at Coe College was enough. I took a course in the gospel of John and had to write a paper on what I thought the first few verses of the gospel—“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God . . .”— were talking about. As best I could (probably with the help of C.I. Scofield’s notes), I explained that the Word, Jesus, that was in the beginning, was God. I received the paper back with red letters and could tell by the prof’s comments that we were in basic disagreement on who the Word was—i.e., his was a liberal interpretation.

When Thanksgiving break came, I drove the 1952 Ford that served as my transportation back to Ottumwa and to the evening revival services at Calvary, where evangelist Glen Schunk was preaching. During the semester at Coe, I had been reading the book of Isaiah and was so challenged by the majestic testimony of that prophet, and by the challenges of such passages as Isa. 6:1-8 and chapters 40-66 (and others), that I could not mistake the call of God to me. It seemed to say, “Tony, what this world needs is not another lawyer, but a preacher of the gospel.” I did not know who Glen Schunk was—had never heard his name before—but that first message was all it took. I responded to the invitation and headed for the altar, meeting the evangelist at the front and telling him that God was calling me to preach. I believe either he or pastor Knauss prayed with me, and when the last “Amen” was said, Schunk put an application in my hand to Bob Jones University, an institution I knew nothing about. I filled out the application pronto and received word in a few days that I had been accepted for the 2^nd semester at BJU, beginning in January, 1962.

My folks agreed with that decision. My friend Tom had applied to be a graduate student at BJU and was offered a position to teach in the School of Business. He was to report in January of ’62 as well, so I had a ride to college.

My first Sunday on campus was amazing. It was like stepping into the vestibule of heaven. I attended vespers that first Sunday with a girl from our home church, and she laughed at my expression when I saw an organ rising from a “pit” on the right side of the pulpit. Well, that was the first of many wonderful “firsts” at BJU. I loved every minute of it, even though we had to be at breakfast at something like 7:45 a.m., ready for our first-hour class, sitting at our assigned dining common table, completely dressed with our required neck-ties on!

My major was Bible, with a speech minor. Early on, I figured out how to make a decent grade in Dr. Panosian’s History of Civilization class—a course many students found challenging. As to the Greek language class required of Bible majors, I did not find it easy but was able to keep up. I had excellent elementary, junior high, and high school teachers in the Ottumwa school system to thank for a more-than-average preparation for college. I can still recall most of their names, faces, and even some idiosyncrasies, but I will never forget their commitment to teaching and their no-nonsense approach, which is what I surely needed. Many of these teachers were, interestingly, “old maids,” so to speak. They were “old school” then and would be archaic by today’s standards. I did not, as a 7^th or 8^th grader, appreciate their contribution to my education as I should have, but I learned to appreciate it so very much. In high school, I was elected as president of the student council, another job that I would later know was part of my preparation for future leadership as the “bishop” of three local churches, the last of the three assignments lasting for 40 years here in Indianapolis.

I thought, upon graduation from BJU in 1965, that God would use me as an evangelist; but in case I would ever have an opportunity to teach, I felt I needed more training and enrolled in Central Baptist Theological Seminary of Minneapolis, Minnesota. It was another institution that I did not know much about. But Bob Jones had awarded an honorary degree to Dr. Richard V. Clearwaters, founder and president of Central, so I felt comfortable enrolling in the Bachelor of Divinity program, which was later officially changed to a Master of Divinity. It was a 96-hour program and usually took three years to complete—or four if you were married and working full-time, as I and several of my classmates did.

More later…

“Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, ‘Here am I; send me.’” (Isa.6:8)

Pilate tried again to persuade the crowd that he should release to them Jesus, but again they cried for His blood. Finally, at about 6 a.m. he delivered Jesus over to the mob and they took Him and led Him away to be crucified.

Immediately, upon His release from Pilate, soldiers seized our Savior, stripped Him, put upon Him a scarlet robe and pressed into His forehead again the crown of thorns, and they put into His right hand a reed or mock scepter; then they began to say, “Hail, King of the Jews.” Spitting upon Him, they took the reed from His hand and smote Him on the head. They mocked Him more, took off the scarlet robe and replaced it with Jesus’ own garment, then led Him to Calvary.

To the place of the skull He was then led, followed by a great company of people. Already weakened by the brutal scourging, Jesus soon fell under the heavy load of the cross that He bore, and one Simon, a Cyrenian, was conscripted by the soldiers to carry the cross on up the hill to Calvary.

Golgotha was the site of the crucifixion, and shortly before 9 a.m. on Friday, the sinless Son of God was stretched out upon a rough-hewn cross; nails were driven through the palms of each hand while one long spike secured both of His feet to the upright stake. The Roman cross of crucifixion was raised by wicked hands high above the earth, then dropped with a sickening thud into a hole upon the hill while every bone in Jesus’ body was torn and twisted in their sockets. Malefactors were put on crosses on either side of the Savior, and from nine ‘til noon the hill was crowned with three cross-bearing bodies, two thieves and the man on the middle cross, the God man.

Earlier all the Disciples had fled and forsook their Master, but by now word was out that He was on the cross, and one by one many had made their way back to Calvary to watch and weep. Mary, His mother, stood by His cross, as did Mary the wife of Cleophas and Mary Magdalene.  John the Beloved Disciple stood beside Mary the mother of Jesus.

From nine ‘til noon, Jesus spoke three times from His place above the earth. First, His prayer of forgiveness was uttered: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” Next, to the thief who in a dying breath asked for mercy, Jesus said, “This day shalt thou be with me in paradise” and finally, gazing upon the sorrowing heart of a sad mother He said to John, “Son, behold thy mother.”

While the hot sun beat upon Jesus for three hours, He spoke only three times and each time not for Himself but on behalf of someone else!

At noon, the sun became dark, and for three hours the heavens hid their faces as it were from the shameful scenes on Calvary.

At about 3 p.m. Jesus’ words pierced through and broke the silence as He cried, “Eli, Eli Lama Sabachthani,” “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

Shortly following that, Jesus said again, “I thirst.”

A vinegar-soaked sponge was held to His mouth on a stick, and when He had received it, He cried with a loud voice, “It is finished!” And then, “Father, into Thy hands I commend My Spirit.”

With those words Jesus gave up the ghost and died. It was Matthew who recorded that at that precise moment, the veil of the temple was rent from the top to the bottom, the earth quaked, the rocks were rent in two, and the graves of many of the bodies of Old Testament saints that had died were opened and they were seen walking through the streets of Jerusalem.

The darkest deed of history was done! Jesus had died; had died a criminal’s death, and the heavens blushed while the earth convulsed.

One of the Roman soldiers who had cast lots for His garments got on his knees and confessed Jesus as the Son of God, while His faithful followers, including Mary Magdalene, came to minister to His body. Joseph of Arimathea, a disciple of Jesus, had received permission from Pilate to bury the body of his Lord, and the body was taken from the cross by Pilate’s orders and wrapped in a clean, spice-laden linen burial cloth and placed in Joseph’s tomb, a tomb which had been hewn out of a rock. Nicodemus, the ruler of the Pharisees who had come to Jesus by night, anointed Jesus’ body with spices and perfumes. A great stone was rolled to the door of the sepulcher, and Mary Magdalene and the other women sat by the door to keep watch.

Saturday, the day after His burial, the vile chief priests went back to Pilate and begged of him a detachment of Roman soldiers to guard the tomb, for, as they remembered and reminded Pilate, He had said, “After three days I will rise again.” Afraid that Jesus’ disciples would secretly steal His body away, they sought the Roman watch and secured it from Pilate.

It was early—about dawn but still dark—on Sunday morning, the first day of the week, that Mary Magdalene and another Mary stole secretly to the tomb with sweet spices with which to anoint their Master’s body. Wondering who would roll away the stone for them, their question was soon forgotten as they came and saw the stone had been rolled away already.

What the women did not know at that time was that in the wee hours of the morning, a good while before daylight, God had shaken the tomb with an earthquake, and the angel of the Lord had descended from Heaven to roll back that great seal. The Roman soldiers fell to the ground and were as dead men, and the angel of the Lord sat down upon the stone. Jesus arose from His burial place triumphant over death and Hell, and two angels from Heaven came and folded neatly the linen cloth that had been wrapped around His body and the napkin that had been wrapped around His head.