NRHToday I was preaching at a local soup kitchen’s outdoor area, from John 11 (the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead).
Toward the end, I dramatically recounted Jesus commanding Lazarus to come out of the tomb. “LAZARUS, COME OUT!” I practically yelled, at which point someone listening interjected, “Are you even allowed to preach like that?
😮😂
Idk if it was because of my admittedly high volume level, or what, but I ignored the comment and finished my sermon.
I know I got animated and kinda loud today, but man, I was excited to proclaim the power of Jesus over death. I felt on fire because Jesus is the only shred of hope I have that means anything, and he means so much.
He is the love of God, the way of life, the truth that sets us free, the ground of the only hope that’s truly certain.
The people I was preaching to desperately need that hope—I desperately need that hope—and I felt desperate to communicate it.
I pray I’m allowed to preach like that, because sometimes it’s the only way I can.