Many of the people in our churches have one thing in common with the Athenians whom Paul encountered on his second missionary trek: they love to hear new things. If a sermon does not present some new idea, enabling them to walk out with a ‘I never thought of that before,’ the message just doesn’t work. To many, the harshest criticism of a sermon is “I’ve heard that before.”

Now, being a preacher with a strong desire to please–to have people walk out of church feeling they’ve received something really special that day–I’ve sometimes fallen into that trap. I have found myself reading Scripture in search of exotic texts, those that surprise me with stories I’d never noticed, insights I’d never found, principles which I knew would excite my members. But, as I say, it’s a trap.

There is a reason ‘Amazing Grace’ is the most popular hymn in America. And reason aplenty why subjects like ‘Salvation by Grace’ (Ephesians 2:8-9), ‘The Inspiration of the Scriptures’ (II Timothy 3:14-17), and ‘Heaven’ (John 14:1-6) are such familiar subjects most of us could preach at a moment’s notice with no preparation at all. They connect with the deepest needs and hungers of people.

I cannot speak for other pastors–I know only my own situation–but I cannot count the times when in my study I have come across these and other well-known (i.e., much-loved and oft-preached) texts and considered adding them to the preaching schedule, only to back away. They just weren’t exciting enough.

My reaction might not have been so obvious but it feels like the worshipers in Malachi’s day who turned up their noses at the Lord’s offerings, saying, ‘What a weariness.’ In the old days, the Lord took that as an insult.

The grand themes of Scripture are grand for a reason: they have ministered best to God’s people over the centuries. As someone has said, ‘Cliches came to be cliches for good reason–they carry great truth.’

I sat across the table at a fast food restaurant chatting with a young pastor who was struggling to find his way. I had seen enough of his work to feel he was getting off course, that his preaching was too negative, and his people were becoming restless and discouraged. I said to him, “My friend, preach the great old truths. The love of God. Grace and mercy. Forgiveness. The joy of the Lord is your strength. The incarnation of Jesus.”

I said, “Now, I can just hear the enemy whispering in your ear that these are boring subjects. But he’s lying. These are the diamonds in the field. These are the sermons that will minister best and accomplish most for your hurting people.”

It took years, but I finally came to take my own advice.

Particularly during the Christmas season, the great texts of the Christian faith cry out to be proclaimed, to be repeated and loved and appropriated. Furthermore, pastor, this is one time of the year when your congregation is not in a mood for innovation, too much creativity, and pulpit sleight of hand. They want to hear the story of Joseph and Mary, of angels and shepherds and wise men, of Bethlehem and Jerusalem, of Herod and Simeon and Anna.

There is no better time than Christmas to preach an evangelistic message. Everyone recalls that the angel announced to the shepherds, “Unto you is born this day a Savior.” A Savior? That would be one who saves, wouldn’t it? The same angel had instructed Joseph to name the Baby “Jesus,” for “He shall save His people from their sins.” There is a sermon just begging to be preached!

The Christmas season is a great time to preach on God’s provisions for our needs, as He protects the little family from Herod and supplies their needs through the gifts of the magi. The appearance of the angels to the shepherds speaks of receiving the revelation of God, and the visit of the shepherds to the manger is all about worship. The appearance of the magi with all our unanswered questions illustrates the sovereignty and majesty of God. The prophecy of Simeon in the temple is a prediction of the cross.

Pastor, tell us the old, old story. We do not need your cleverness to adorn God’s message. No brilliant insights, no daring interpretations, no gimmicky reinterpretations. Just read it and tell us about it. Rejoice in it. If God has made it special to you for any reason, we would enjoy hearing that. If some parts of it carry a particular blessing to your heart, providing medicine to your soul, share that.

Read us the old, old story. Take your time. Nothing you are about to say about it is as important as what the text itself says. So read it–aloud, clearly, slowly, lovingly. And, pastor, read it well. Plan for this public reading of the Word by reading and re-reading it aloud to the point that it will not enter your brain as a stranger or trip over your tongue as it exits your mouth.

Sing us the old, old story. New carols are fine, once in a while, but at this time of the year the people in the pews want to sing “Silent Night,” “Joy to the Word,” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” The secular songs of Christmas are not necessarily bad–many are quite good, in fact–but the people hear them in the malls and on the radio all the time. For many, this will be the only time of the entire season when they themselves open their mouths and lift their voices in song to the New-born King.

Growing up in a large family, we were traditional in how we celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas. When time for the big meal came, as we all gathered in the dining room and gazed upon the feast my mother and sisters had prepared, we would have been disappointed beyond words if they had chosen this occasion to innovate. Maybe some fancy recipes they found in a magazine somewhere. Something they discovered on a visit to England last year.

“Today, we thought you would enjoy having escargot and crepe suzettes and caesar salads.”

Oh no, none of that! We wanted the same menu we had eaten year after year, as long as any of us could remember: turkey and cornbread dressing and cranberry sauce, green bean casserole and sweet potatoes and a tableful of desserts.

The next few services, pastor, your congregation will file in and take their places around the dining room table, so to speak, and look toward you to feed them. This is no time to try to tickle their fancies. Feed them the Word.

Tell them the old, old story.

Two hours after posting this, I attended worship at the First Baptist Church of Kenner, Louisiana, and heard interim pastor Mark Tolbert deliver a masterful sermon on Mary, the mother of Jesus, with Luke 1 as his text. He talked about

–her selection by the will of God (God did not choose her because she was special; she was special because He chose her)

–her submission to the will of God (“Behold, the bondslave of the Lord”)

–salvation as the will of God (“My spirit rejoices in God my Savior”).

At the invitation time, a young adult man named Troy stepped into the aisle and walked forward to receive Jesus Christ as his Savior. Then, as though to highlight the very points Mark had made in his sermon on God’s selecting and our submitting, Associate Pastor David Arthur announced his resignation to become a chaplain in the U. S. military. Next Sunday will be his last day. Then Jean Paul Meyers and his wife Terry were presented. They will be going on a mission to Cambodia with members of Terry’s church (the Vietnamese Baptist Church of New Orleans), and are asking for our prayers and support.

Two funny things today….

Following the service, one of our longtime members, the type who writes in the margins of her Bible when a pastor preaches on a particular text, approached me. “Brother Joe, you preached that same message in 1991.” I said, “I know. Mark stole it from me.” (Mark smiled when I told him that and asked if I raised my voice in the same places he did!)

At the start of the sermon, Mark told of his son-in-law’s becoming a journalist. “We are delighted to have more Christians in the journalism field,” he said. And that reminded him of a story.

“This fellow was driving down the street when he spotted a big dog attacking a small boy. He stopped his car and ran over and pulled the dog off the child, and saved the child’s life. In the process of all this, the dog was killed. Just then, another car stopped and a man got out.”

“‘Sir,’ the motorist said, ‘I saw all that. You are a real hero for saving this boy’s life!’ The man said, ‘Oh no, I don’t think I’m a hero.'”

“Oh yes, you’re a hero, sir. And I’m the editor of the local newspaper. I plan on writing a big article on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. The headline will read, LOCAL MAN SAVES BOY’S LIFE FROM VICIOUS DOG.”

“The man said, ‘Well, sir, I appreciate that, but I’m not really from around here.'”

“‘No matter,’ said the editor. ‘The headline will read, ‘LOUISIANA MAN SAVES BOY FROM VICIOUS DOG.'”

“‘But sir, I’m really not from this state. I’m actually from Connecticut.'”

“The editor said, ‘In that case, the headline will read, ‘YANKEE MURDERS FAMILY PET.'”