• Saw CNN praising Joel Osteen, in spite of his being “ light on sin and heavy on feeling good.” Let’s just get this straight: the Gospel is not a matter of balance, a yin-and-yang ratio of hard news to easy news, or equal doses of law and Gospel. Preachers are not charged with finding a magical blend of confrontation and encouragement. Rather. The Gospel is the proclamation of what Christ did, in history, on behalf of people who were entirely beyond saving themselves. How bad were they? They were dead.
• The only good news is that which comes to those who have arrived at complete despair, who have discovered hopelessness in themselves, who look at themselves and see, honestly, plainly, piercingly that “…the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law. Indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God” (Rom 8:7-8).
• So, ultimately, the only good news in the universe is reserved for those who understand they do not need a lifting comment, a word of encouragement, a pat on the back, a helping hand. They need resurrection. They need to be re-made. They are entirely lost. They must be entirely saved. It’s not as though the car got stuck in the mud; it is as though it was hit by an airstrike and the pieces are scattered across an acre of ground. So, how much sin should a preacher preach? ALL OF IT. What kind of redemption does he proclaim? COMPLETE. There is a hell and there is a heaven. This is a harsh reality. Preachers who do not like it should find a more congenial line of work.
• The problem with Joel Osteen is not that he is too nice, or nicer than curmudgeonly orthodox preachers. The problem with Joel Osteen is he is telling stage-four cancer victims that everything is going to be fine. In that way, he is far more cruel than the crustiest fundamentalist, hellfire-and-brimstone preachers of yore.
• I will never forget a story told by the gifted literary-journalist Michael Herr. During the Vietnam war a chaplain came to the bedside of a severely-wounded soldier about to lose his legs. As the chaplain leaned over him, hoping to encourage him, the soldier whispered “am I going to lose my legs?” “ Everything’s going to be fine” the chaplain said. After the amputations, the chaplain came back by. The soldier motioned for the chaplain to lean down. As he did, the soldier reached up, took the chaplain’s cross that dangled from his neck and snapped it off, clutching it in his fist. Holding the cross in his fist before the chaplain’s face, the soldier said: “ You lied to me.” And he swore at him.
• In the next 50 years, as this culture continues to shift, it will become increasingly difficult for ministers and churches to stand by basic biblical truth. The fact that we are “aliens and strangers” here (Peter’s term) will be increasingly apparent, increasingly uncomfortable. Pray that with graciousness, and love, we will not be moved.