Thoughts On: John 7:14-18

About the middle of the feast Jesus went up into the temple and began teaching. The Jews therefore marveled, saying, "How is it that this man has learning, when he has never studied?" So Jesus answered them, "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me. If anyone's will is to do God's will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority. The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood.

John 7:14-18, ESV

I woke up this Tuesday unhappy because I thought it was Sunday, and I thought I still needed to preach two sermons. Preaching is part of my job description, and I like it. I have a lot to learn, but I enjoy the process of preparing a sermon and I love the students I get to teach. I love that it is a creative work, and I love that I get to dig into scripture and learn. Something happens, though, after I step off the stage. Things get dark, and the insults in my head begin to run on a loop. I begin to dissect what went wrong, what I can do better, why I can't seem to say exactly what I want to say. I feel deflated and sick, upset and tired, and I didn't recognize any of this as a lie until a friend looked me in the eye and said: "that is the enemy."

I've made so much progress in noticing the lies that enter my mind, but as my life flipped over and everything changed, it became hard to find what was true and what was false, and I often let down my guard. I guess I thought that I cleared all the hurdles - that the lies couldn't reach me anymore. I can't believe I didn't spot it, the lie that said I have to figure it out on my own.

I got to talk to our Senior Pastor today, which is rare and happens maybe once every six months. I wanted to use the time well, so I asked the one thing that's been bothering me about my job: Had he ever been nervous to preach? He said no - never before a sermon, because he loves to be in front of people; but then he said yes - when he first began pastoring, he felt the fear after he had spoken. He said that the first few times he spoke, he felt a debilitating sense that he had wasted people's time. He considered quitting. As he spoke, I tried to not let any tears roll down my face as he described my week. So I asked if he ever felt like that anymore. 

He said that no, he doesn't feel like that anymore, because he and God had a conversation. He said that early in his career he was reading in Exodus about the bread the priests made and laid out in the tabernacle. He said that as he prayed, he felt God telling him to make the bread - to give God the fruits of his labor each day- and then to let it go, back into God's possession. He said he would open his hands before a sermon and give it to God, for Him to do whatever he would with it, and he said from that day forward the lies no longer held him captive. 

The truth is that God is the teacher. All knowledge is God's, from the beginning to the end. My job is to learn, and to live it out, and to do my best to teach whatever he is revealing. My job is not to be the best, or to be unique, or to overthink. The truth is that, yes, teaching is a responsibility, but it is not a burden. It is a delight - to bake this bread and then to present what has been created. Sometimes the bread may not look how I want and sometimes the taste may be off, but there is grace, even in bread-baking. I think maybe it is possible that I keep my lightness of spirit, even with responsibilities that once terrified me.

Laura Weiant2 Comments