THE PREACHER OR THE TRUTH.
By Rusticus
"How did you like him?"
This was the question that met me at the door of the sanctuary at the close of the morning service. The church was without a pastor, and the strange preacher, though not a formal, was a possible candidate. All around me I heard one and another asking this same question. I replied: "I did not pay any special attention to him; I was thinking all the time of that message which he brought us from our Lord. He came here as an ambassador. He presented, in the name of Christ, solemn and important truth, and it mattered very little to me whether he presented it gracefully or awkwardly, if the presentation was clear and earnest. I had no time or heart to criticise his tones or his gestures. I felt that he was sent to rebuke my unbelief and to quicken my faith. He evidently believed what he preached, felt it, too, and wanted to make us feel it." "Yes, the sermon was good. It was real good," said one excellent Christian lady, "but I never could enjoy hearing a preacher who swung his arms about like a windmill." "And I," said another, "always get nervous when a preacher walks about so much. I am afraid he will upset the vases of flowers or do something dreadful." "And I," said another, "can never vote for any man as my pastor who goes into the pulpit with a black necktie. There ought to be something distinctly ministerial about a minister's appearance." "And I," said another, "want a preacher with a musical voice. I go to church all worried and out of sorts, and expect the sermon to soothe my troubled spirit. You know there is nothing so quieting as a soft and gentle voice. This man's voice is too loud and he does not modulate it well. He talks as if the house was on fire, and he wanted to rouse us all to escape for our lives." And so they discussed the man, or rather his manner, and forgot all about the truth that he had proclaimed. Is not this kind of criticism one of the besetting sins of the church to-day? A poet sings:—
"Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ
Of learning, eloquence, or wit."
But Paul did not think so. He confessed in his letters to the Corinthians that his bodily presence was weak and his speech contemptible. But, though he came not among them with excellency of speech, and was with them in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling, so that he, no doubt, made some people nervous, and disgusted others who could appreciate nothing but the graces of oratory, yet he claimed a hearing for his message, and the Holy Spirit made it the power of God and the wisdom of God. A minister of the gospel is not an actor. He is called in the Bible a workman. The ideal of a true workman is to do good work. He cannot always be studying attitudes. He studies truth and how to present it most forcibly and effectively. And the most graceful presentation is not always the most effective. The woman who complained that the preacher talked as if the house was on fire gave him, unconsciously, the highest commendation. He was so thoroughly in earnest that his manner was abrupt and startling. She did not like to be startled, but she never will forget that solemn warning of the man who believed every word that he uttered. Paul said, "We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us." If a man is thirsty he will be glad to get a drink of pure cold water, even if it is brought in the rudest and cheapest kind of cup. And fresh water at the spring in common crockery is better than stale and tepid water in a stately mansion from a vessel of porcelain or even of gold. God could give to all his ambassadors such gifts and graces that they would charm all who heard them. But he knew that if he did the interest of the people in the man and his manner would divert their attention from the truth. He wants us to hear his message for its own sake, and not because it is presented attractively. Now, I do not object to grace of manner, or to anything which makes the gospel attractive to even the most fastidious hearer. But I do object to this exaltation of the man above the truth. The tendency is to tempt the minister to cultivate manner and to become a brilliant orator, rather than a workman that needeth not to be ashamed. The real power of the preacher is not human but divine. It is the power of the Holy Spirit working in and through the truth. What secures the influences of the Spirit is loyalty to the truth on the part of the minister, and faith in the truth on the part of the hearer. The great question, then, is not, How did the minister preach? but, What did he preach? If it was the word in its simplicity and purity the preaching was good, even if the gestures were not graceful, nor the voice musical, nor the necktie clerical.
—Rusticus, in Occident.