Our auditorium seats almost 800 (by architect-count, not by actual mid-western American butt-size count). And while we have a pretty full house at our worship gatherings on Sundays, the reality is that our Wednesday evening attendance is nowhere near that. So we meet in our largest adult classroom with room for about 130 if we get in close to one another. Metal folding chairs, a music stand lectern, and a projector screen.
Our topic for that evening's study was "Lust." We are a couple lessons into a series on the Seven Deadly Sins and how to let God free us from temptation. I had written my lesson and had plenty of material, my biggest concern was whether I would have the voice to make it. You see, I was sick and my throat was really trying to give up. My body ached and I was pretty sure I had about 30 minutes of hoarse voice to try and stretch over an hour. I knew that I would be a joy to listen to.
I will admit that my wording was poor when I opened the class with the question: "When I say lust, what comes to mind?" I will credit that to daytime flu medication. Nevertheless, things were going pretty routinely and the room was about half full as we began, but through the first ten minutes people really began to fill up the seats--we had a larger crowd than normal. We even had to send some folks for some extra chairs, twice (really). Within 15 minutes, the room was packed. We even had visitors--more than a handful.
But there was a "problem"... my lesson just wasn't all that great. I mean, it wasn't horrific or embarrassing, but it certainly wasn't going to be very memorable either. It was flat. When the highlight thus far was a hackneyed Billy Graham story about how the struggle with lustful thoughts is lifelong, things are pretty flat. But I was at least crossing off the bare minimums of a passable Bible study: Having walked through the connection between lust and idolatry (biblical and theological basis--check!), and having ambled through the obligatory identification of some of our own idols (group participation--okay, it wasn't open-life, open-heart testimony, but technically other voices were saying words related to the topic, so, check!), we were meandering into a discussion of some practical ways to overcome the temptation to lust (practical application--check!) when it happened.
A hand went up.
Thank god! First of all, my voice was tired, and a break would be welcome even if just a moment. Second, I was honestly tired of this sub-par lesson (and when you are bored as the speaker, that should tell you something). Third, the hand was from a close friend whose faith I respected and wisdom I trusted. His comments were always helpful. So I called on him.
"I'm have problems with this class. I'm tired of this class."
That was less helpful than I had hoped. As he went on, I became a little scared that my flat lesson was about be crushed by his depth. It deserved it, I knew, but that doesn't mean I wanted that to happen in front of a full room--and more than a handful of visitors, mind you. Pride is a funny thing.
He continued, "I don't mean this class, but all the classes like this that tell me that temptation is always there and will always be there, and I'm condemned to a life of barely hanging on and hoping it doesn't win." He went on, almost in tears, as he exclaimed that the Word of God tells us that we have been set free. "Free!" he shouted. Then he did cry. "I was addicted to pornography for 15 years! But now I am free! I cheated on my wife! But now I'm free!" He passionately explained that since Christ's seed was in him that life was not about outlasting a nagging and overpowering temptation, but in living free.
There was a moment of stillness--you might expect that it was awkward, but it wasn't... it was deeper than that... holier than that... it was sacred presence. And then hands shot up all over the room. As people shared and responded some wholeheartedly agreed and others thought that sounded too much like perfectionism. Another brother shared in tears that "if we could just catch one glimpse of God and know for one instance how much he loves us, we would do anything to be with him." I watched as God's Spirit broke out through the room and people bared their hearts and lives in real dialogue about faith (not obligatory one-word answers to a scarecrow question).
The rest of the class was dynamic. We talked about moving beyond moralistic approaches to beating the lust urge, and really dug into the gospel of God's abiding presence, empowering grace, and his transforming Spirit. We talked about purity not as the result of a few decent practices with an accountability partner, but real gospel purity that desires God above all else, that hungers for God's presence more than any other thing. We found ourselves re-evangelized last night.
It was truly awesome. I wish more people could have seen it. And yes, the visitors probably think we are crazy. But they honestly saw something that I hope they never forget--a church learning together as the Spirit taught. That was way better than my bad jokes and sore throat. That's way better than my good sermons with full voice.
It was powerful and moving. And it was not because of me.
That last sentence actually hurts to write. Now, I don't want to be proud person. I know that pride is bad. But I kind of wanted to be the hero. I had that moment where I feared having my weak message "outed," but it was something I needed--we needed. I will not be ashamed that I was not the impetus for spiritual breakthrough last night, because I choose not be ashamed of the gospel. I choose to be thankful.
I am thankful for people in church who are brave enough to say that they do not hear enough of the gospel in what we are saying. Not just complaining about an interpretative difference or changes in worship practice... but who hunger to hear the gospel more. The world doesn't need more moralism, more pop-psychology, or more optimism. The world needs the gospel. And if I am not teaching it, please tell me. In fact, your honesty just might save us all. The church needs the gospel. Every time we meet, my job as the pastor called by God to speak a word from God to the people of God is to re-evangelize the saved so that we never fall prey to a powerless moralism that robs the glory of God or a bland ritualism that abandons the power of his gospel.
Less than 24 hours later, as I write this, I have received five different texts, emails, calls, and messages expressing thanks to me for leading such a wonderful class with so much sharing and passionate exploration and thinking. People were moved and changed. And I guess I am glad they thanked me, but trust me... I had nothing to do with it. And that's okay.
