“Go and stand in the temple and speak to the people all the words of this life” (Acts 5:20).
I feel like I have a delivery to make.
I will drive a hundred miles up the interstate to the church where I’m to preach that morning. Sometimes Bertha is with me, sometimes she isn’t. I’ll greet some of the people and check with the worship leader to make sure we’re on the same page. At the appointed time, I will rise and ask everyone to turn to Romans 8.
All week long, I have lived in Romans 8. I’ve read it, thought about it, written about it, read about it some more, and talked to the Lord about it. I feel I have a load to deliver.
An hour later, driving home, I will feel spent. Empty. Unburdened. Drained.
I hope I will feel pleased, but that’s not always a sure thing. Sometimes I return from preaching feeling, as the basketball players put it, that I have left it in the locker room (instead of on the floor, in the game itself). Sometimes we preachers are disgusted that such a glorious message has to be filtered through such an imperfect vessel. As though we had tried to depict a sunset with crayons. Tried to explain calculus with the understanding of a six-year-old.
The wonder is that God can use such a pitiful attempt.
And yet, we did not volunteer for this. We did not presumptuously present ourselves to the Lord as capable, eager spokespeople.