The tragic event that occurred at FBC Maryville this past Sunday has been weighing heavily on my mind. Of course, I hurt with Dr. Fred Winters’ wife, daughters and church family. It is in the times of deepest grief that the Body of Christ shines the brightest and I trust that will be the case for them. So, while they are on my mind and in my prayers, thoughts of them have not weighed the heaviest on my mind.
At approximately 8:15 Sunday morning a gunman strolled up the aisle of FBC Maryville. Reports indicate that he calmly but intently walked toward the pulpit where Pastor Fred stood. The sparse details have been reported, and even those details are not what have weighed heaviest on my mind. What has weighed heaviest on my mind is a question.
Early reports indicated the subject of Pastor Fred’s sermon that morning. It had something to do with joy in the workplace. What has weighed heaviest on my mind is the question: if my life was to end in the middle of my sermon, would it have been worth dying over? Although I know nothing of his ministry or preaching, I’m sure Pastor Fred’s was. My question is in no way directed at him or his memory. My question is directed squarely at me.
I once heard Alistair Begg state offhandedly that he read his sermon text in its entirety before preaching so that if he dropped dead in the middle of his sermon, the people would have received the most beneficial part. I make a practice of opening with the sermon text, but do I preach each sermon as if it was my last? Or will I enter eternity with the regret of my final sermon being something trivial or aimed at temporal benefit only?
What would people remember most about my final sermon—a funny joke? A well-spun yarn? A dynamic gesture or oratorical flourish? Would they remember the balance of the points or the alliteration? I pray that none of those things would cloud their memory. I pray that the memory of every sermon including my final one would be the Text—but not just a memory of the Text as a simple recall of the chapter and verse. I pray that the memory of my preaching would be of the Christ who is revealed in the Text.
1 Corinthians 2:1-5
At approximately 8:15 Sunday morning a gunman strolled up the aisle of FBC Maryville. Reports indicate that he calmly but intently walked toward the pulpit where Pastor Fred stood. The sparse details have been reported, and even those details are not what have weighed heaviest on my mind. What has weighed heaviest on my mind is a question.
Early reports indicated the subject of Pastor Fred’s sermon that morning. It had something to do with joy in the workplace. What has weighed heaviest on my mind is the question: if my life was to end in the middle of my sermon, would it have been worth dying over? Although I know nothing of his ministry or preaching, I’m sure Pastor Fred’s was. My question is in no way directed at him or his memory. My question is directed squarely at me.
I once heard Alistair Begg state offhandedly that he read his sermon text in its entirety before preaching so that if he dropped dead in the middle of his sermon, the people would have received the most beneficial part. I make a practice of opening with the sermon text, but do I preach each sermon as if it was my last? Or will I enter eternity with the regret of my final sermon being something trivial or aimed at temporal benefit only?
What would people remember most about my final sermon—a funny joke? A well-spun yarn? A dynamic gesture or oratorical flourish? Would they remember the balance of the points or the alliteration? I pray that none of those things would cloud their memory. I pray that the memory of every sermon including my final one would be the Text—but not just a memory of the Text as a simple recall of the chapter and verse. I pray that the memory of my preaching would be of the Christ who is revealed in the Text.
1 Corinthians 2:1-5
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