“There is a sense in which sexual sin destroys a person like no other, because it is so intimate and entangling, corrupting on the deepest human level.” –John MacArthur

We all agree that adultery is wrong. The problem is once you get caught in its grip, you find yourself so drunk with its intoxication, you start humming the Debbie Boone hit, “This can’t be wrong, it feels so right.”

A pastor friend whose wife left him and the children for another man in the church–who had also abandoned his family–told me some women from his congregation drove to the nearby state to try to reason with her.  She rebuffed them. “You are interfering with the will of God for my life!” (She came to see the severity of her mistake, but only after it was too late to repair her marriage. She lives in regret.)

It can happen to you, friend.

If you question everything else that follows, do not doubt that. Adultery can happen anywhere, to anyone. You do not have to be debonair, suave, handsome, articulate, successful, muscular, and every woman’s dream.  You can be dull and overweight, unattractive and without a shred of a personality, and still be caught up in this firestorm we call an affair.

And, you can be mighty in the Lord, successful beyond your biggest dreams, and a warrior for Christ of the first dimension, and still be brought down by adultery.

“Flee fornication.” (I Corinthians 6:18)

Don’t argue with it, reason with it, discuss its ramifications with the object of your delight, and do not underestimate it. Just run as fast as your little legs will carry you. Get away, quick.

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“So, as much as is in me, I am ready to preach the gospel to you….” (Romans 1:15)

I am loving preaching more these days than in all the half-century I’ve been at it.

Recently, when a pastor invited me to supply in his church for a Sunday, he made an unusual request. “Give me some choices as to what you will preach.”

I loved the request, and quickly wrote him back, sending summaries of a half-dozen messages.  He picked two, specifying one for morning and the other for Sunday evening.

When I brought the messages to his people, everything about the experience was wonderful. He was a gracious host, attentive to every detail, and his people were so responsive. I can’t wait to go back.

Later, in a quiet conversation, he asked if I always preach without notes as I had done that day. “And,” he added, “when you were pastoring and having to come up with two new sermons for each Sunday, did you preach the same way you do now?”

By way of explanation, the “way I do now” is this. I take my Bible into the pulpit, but only to read the scripture. Thereafter, every scripture mentioned in the sermon I have memorized. The sermon is an open-hearted time of sharing. All the “notes” are in my head and heart.

What my sermon is not, I admit, is a well-crafted, finely honed specimen of hermeneutical art.

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Pastors are always looking for sermon illustrations. See if any of this works for you.

TWO FUNERALS.

This week, C-Span televised the funeral of South Dakota statesman former Senator George McGovern, who had run for the Presidency in 1972 and lost in a landslide to Richard Nixon.

Whenever there is a funeral of a national leader on C-Span, I try to watch as much of it as I can. The fascinating part is hearing stories from colleagues, some of whom are often well-known in their own right, tales from earlier years, stories that never made it into newspapers.

This funeral was held, I believe, in the sanctuary of the First United Methodist Church of Sioux Falls. I did not watch the entire service, so my observation is not about this funeral specifically.

Pagan funerals–in our culture–look back; Christian funerals look ahead.

It’s that simple. The pagan service will celebrate all the good the subject did in his life while ignoring any unsavory parts; the Christian service may indeed bring in some of the accomplishments from his lifetime, but mainly looks forward. As the Apostle Paul said, “Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award me on that day–and not to me only, but also to all who have loved His appearing” (II Timothy 4).

Something else about George McGovern intrigues me. In World War II, he flew bombers over Germany. He was a full-fledged American hero and thus entitled to all the trappings of macho-ism (machismo?). But the American public never saw any of that bravado from him as a senator, politician, and candidate for the highest office. In fact, he came across as rather nerdish.

And, by a strange coincidence, so did George H. W. Bush (our 41st president). In World War II, he was a fighter pilot who on one occasion had to parachute from his stricken plane. And yet, in one of his campaigns for the presidency, Newsweek magazine ran a cover with his picture and the words: “The Wimp Factor.” (Wimp? The man jumps out of planes to celebrate his 80th birthday? He is anything but a wimp!)

By contrast, when John F. Kennedy was running for the presidency in 1960, his wartime experiences as commander of PT-109 became a big deal. Books were written and even a movie starring Cliff Robertson was (later) made.

Perceptions are often so unreliable. We must learn to look beyond how things appear, to look beneath the thin veneers, and to try to see the realities that lie below.

AN ABORTION QUOTE

Our friend is a woman, a Christian, and a medical doctor.  Over dinner the other night, she told my wife and me of a conversation she had with another friend who was stridently pro-choice, which of course is a euphemism for pro-abortion. He was insisting that the only way to go for anyone supporting “women’s rights” is to be pro-choice.

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