Jesus came preaching. (Mark 1:14)
Reading up on the life of Martin Luther King, Jr.; caused me
to think of my own life. That’s what biographies do—especial at this point in
my life. I was taken, even moved, by what we have in common. Let me list a
few: 1) We are both PKs—preacher’s kids raised in the sanctuary with the sound
of our father’s voice. 2) We both found ourselves preachers, like our dads. 3)
We both respected our preaching fathers, but sought a different voice—a
different way of preaching. 4) We both got educated—introduced to a different
world than the world of our fathers’ church. 5) Yet, we both had more of our preaching
fathers in us than we suspected.
That big thing we both carried from our fathers is the
memory of preaching as a uniquely church event. Somewhere, down deep in our
bones, lies that Sunday morning memory of how people, with names and faces,
gather, greet, love, hug, talk, pray, make announcements, sing, worship; and
then, listen to the sermon. Apart from the congregation—the “Beloved
Community,” preaching is not preaching. We learned that from our fathers and
the church community they pastored.
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