I guess that as, for lack of a better distinction, a "professional" preacher, I'm still coming to terms with the fact that there is no gradual transition, no step-down program, by which old wineskins can become new. As the adjectives "old" and then "new" (in that order) suggest, that transition can only be a death and resurrection thing, not something to be tackled in stages.
I know this both intellectually and autobiographically, but that doesn't always make it less frustrating as a discipler when my conventional wisdom tells me to look for those "baby steps" that, like the watery oasis on a Nevada highway, always and only seem to be forthcoming. I'm coming to terms with the fact that there is no gentle way to do this. To proclaim the Gospel is to spew killing and resurrecting salt. And unfortunately, salt can quickly dissolve into the lukewarm waters of the status quo. More than anything else, it's grappling with this reality that is the cause of this entire blog.
So I'm probably not the only disciple to note this oddity that all responses to a successful proclamation seem to fall into one of two camps:
the "I've been waiting my whole life to hear someone say that" camp or
the "it seems like you're trying unnecessarily to rock the boat" camp (to which the proper response would be, "'Rock the boat', yes, but not 'unnecessarily'").
Only after a decided failure of a sermon is the response anywhere in between. For those who have experienced something similar, I've taken great courage from the insights of Douglas John Hall (pardon the length):
“The
dissatisfied, the disenchanted, the restless searchers after meaning have
always been those in whom the Spirit of this faith has been especially
interested—not because it would redeem them alone (that is elitism), but
because it regards them as the salt and yeast and light through whom the food
may be prevented from insipidity, the loaf from flatness, and the soul of
humanity from its captivation by mediocrity (Matt. 5:13-16; 13:31-33). That is
what this tradition means by election.
“It would be
salutary if Christianity in North America today were to regard as the sign of
divine election precisely such dissatisfaction and disenchantment, such
determination to demand of life something better than comfort. So long as the
churches make their appeal to those who desire security, calm, and consolation,
they will have little room for the kind of intellectual, ethical, and spiritual
rigor that is required of any resolute attempt at professing the faith. We have
seen that one of the chief reasons why the North American Protestant churches
have been so inconstant in their theological work is that their dominant
‘clientele’ has consisted of persons who are seeking peace of mind, and a
thinking faith disturbs the mind! There will no doubt always be a market for
peace-of-mind religion, but it will be inimical to a faith that demands
extraordinary exertions of both mind and heart if it is to be professed by
anyone.”[1]
