Before the Face of God

Transcript

Good morning, family. This morning we continue our series on worship, where we have been walking through our liturgy—the very thing we do here on Sunday mornings—one piece at a time. Today, we focus on the sermon portion of our liturgy. This topic will take two Sundays to cover: this morning, we address preaching as an act of worship, and next Sunday, our brother Paul Hoffman will speak on listening to the sermon as an act of worship.

Please turn with me in your Bibles to 2 Timothy 4

. As you find the passage, remember that today we are dealing with preaching as worship. Paul, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, writes:

“I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom, preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.”

Family, this is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Would you pray with me?

Our Father and our God, may the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, my rock and my redeemer. We pray for the help of the Holy Spirit, the very thing necessary to take the words I will preach this morning and push them into the hearts of your people. We confess that without the Spirit’s help, this would be nothing more than just a talk, and that is not what we have come here to do. We have come to worship. So we pray, God, meet us here with help, with softness, with humility, with eyes to see the truth. We pray these things in Christ’s name, amen.

Now, imagine you’ve been putting off a difficult conversation with a friend for weeks, maybe longer. You’ve rehearsed it a hundred times in your head, and it always goes well there. But now, as you drive to meet them, you say it out loud to the windshield, trying to find a way to open that doesn’t sound like an ambush. You didn’t sleep much last night because you already know this will change the temperature between you, maybe even for good.

You sit down and start. About 90 seconds in, you realize it’s not going how you thought. You see shock, disappointment, discomfort on their face. And in that moment, something unexpected happens—you start doing the math on what this conversation will cost you. Somewhere in the middle, you decide to give them only 90% of what they need to hear. It’s not a lie; everything you say is true and defensible, but you leave the crucial 10% sitting in your chest.

You wrap it up, say something warm, hug them goodbye, and drive home. On the way, you tell yourself leaving out the 10% was wise. Maybe it was, or maybe you were just scared—scared of how they’d react, scared you might sound like a hypocrite, or scared it would cost the relationship.

Here’s the hard truth about not speaking the whole truth: that 10% you left out wasn’t throwaway. It was the one sentence they most needed to hear to respond properly. And you didn’t say it.

Family, every one of us has held back that 10% for the sake of peace. We’re all guilty. There’s a place where holding back the 10% has a name—in a courtroom. When a witness stands up and raises their right hand, they promise three things: to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That middle promise—the whole truth—is crucial. You can say nothing but true things and still deceive by what you leave out. That’s why the whole truth is its own promise.

The presence of a judge changes the climate of a conversation, forcing you to calculate the cost of omitting that 10%. There is another place where holding back the 10% has even more devastating consequences: here, in preaching. Your holding back is an option, and you’re sitting in it right now—not because of me, but because of who else is in the room.

My hope this morning is that we see from this text that preaching God’s Word is not a cerebral or casual part of the service disconnected from worship. It is worship. Why? Because when God’s Word is preached, God is present.

If that is true, everything about this moment changes. If God is present, the man standing in the pulpit does not get to omit the 10%. He cannot leave out the difficult parts or soften the uncomfortable ones—not because he’s braver or lacks social awareness, but because it was never his message to edit. Unlike every other courtroom, the judge here already knows the whole truth. He knows exactly what he said, so the preacher doesn’t decide which parts the jury can handle.

I know that’s a weighty claim. If a preacher stands in the presence of God handling a message that isn’t his to edit, we better show where that comes from. It comes directly from the text we read this morning.

To set context, Paul wrote this letter from prison to a young pastor named Timothy. Paul is in chains, a dying man who knows what’s ahead. Look at what he does to Timothy in the first sentence: he puts him under oath, the same oath we talked about—a promise to tell the whole truth, not just 90%.

Let’s break down the text into two scenes: the courtroom and the herald.

Scene one: the courtroom. Verse 1 says, “I charge you in the presence of God and of Jesus Christ, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom.” Notice the weight Paul places here—five things: God, Christ Jesus, judgment of living and dead, his appearing, and his kingdom. This establishes the charge’s gravity.

The phrase “I charge you” is a courtroom word meaning to bear witness or testify. Timothy is standing in the presence of God and Christ Jesus. This phrase “in the presence of God” is the whole reason this sermon series exists. The Latin phrase “coram Deo” means before the face of God. Practically, God isn’t somewhere else when we gather; He is present among us, compelling worship.

Think about preaching. If God is somewhere else, preaching is just a man giving a good talk about God to people who came to hear a good talk. The goal is to execute it well—measured by laughs, attention, persuasion, or whether people come back.

But if God is here, if His face is among us, preaching isn’t a talk. It’s a man standing before God, handling God’s Word in front of God’s people, while God watches and listens. One is performance; the other is worship. That is the difference between a talk and a sermon—not volume, passion, illustration quality, platform, or giftedness, but who is present.

Preaching in God’s presence cuts two ways: it terrifies and it frees. Every word is judged by God who is present. That is terrifying. A preacher who isn’t concerned about that is a fool and shouldn’t preach. John Calvin reminds us God did not spare His own Son for His church. Because of that cost, God won’t overlook careless or reckless words, especially regarding His people.

But it also frees. If God is the one the preacher must answer to, the people in the room are not. The preacher’s concern for God’s approval outweighs concern for human approval. This frees him to tell the whole truth without calculating the cost.

Let me clarify two things: freedom from your approval doesn’t mean freedom to reinterpret the text or freedom from care. Verse 2 ends with “complete patience and teaching.” The preacher must not be harsh or careless. If I wound you with tone or carelessness, that is sin, and I must repent.

Secondly, you should hold me accountable. If I say something untrue about God, bring your Bible and show me kindly. That’s not rebellion; that’s love. But there’s a difference between saying I was wrong and saying I didn’t like what you said. The former I must answer for; the latter I do not.

If I’m faithful to the text and care for you, but the content offends or challenges you, I’m not obligated to change it. I’m obligated to say the truth with care. My job isn’t to make you feel better, give a motivational talk, or hand out self-help psychology with Bible verses. I’m here to preach Christ. Whether you enjoy it was never part of the measurement. That is love.

Every preacher who stands here must know where we stand: in a courtroom, in God’s presence, under oath, held accountable for every word said and every word left unsaid. That weight is a comfort to you, so you know preaching is calculated because God is watching.

The preacher’s careful handling of God’s Word is an extension of God’s care for you. I pray you receive it that way. This weight doesn’t fall only on the preacher. When the whole truth is received with faith, repentance, and obedience, that too is worship. Preaching is worship, but receiving the Word is worship. Paul will help us explore that next week. Both happen before God’s face—the preaching and the responding.

Scene two: the herald. Verse 2 says, “Preach the word.” In our culture, preaching is often flattened to a religious TED Talk, a monologue about spiritual ideas. But the Greek word here is built on “herald,” a king’s courier who announces the king’s decree exactly as given, without error or alteration.

The herald has freedom in how he says it—loud, quirky, urgent, warm—but no freedom in what he says. Improving the king’s decree is a crime. Verse 2 tells us preaching is worship because the preacher isn’t the author; God is speaking and present, and His people worship.

Every Sunday, one of us stands here, and the most important thing is that we didn’t make it up. We’re not giving our best ideas or a Portland slant. We preach God’s Word, not ours. Paul says, “Preach the word,” not “a word” or “your word.” He refers to the inspired Scripture (2 Timothy 3

).

In our post-truth culture, some say, “I have a Bible; why do I need a man telling me what it says?” But Paul just told us Scripture is sufficient and inspired, and the very next command is to preach it. The sufficiency of Scripture isn’t why we don’t need preaching; it’s why preaching exists.

Paul continues, “Be ready in season and out of season.” These words are punchier in Greek: “in season” means well-timed; “out of season” means ill-timed. The herald doesn’t choose the message or the moment. The decree doesn’t wait for a good week or a ready room.

This is one of the hardest parts of being a preaching pastor. I don’t get to wait for inspiration. Songs are mine; I can change or shelve them. But preaching is different. Sunday comes every seven days, regardless. The text is the text, the day is the day, and every Sunday you’ll be there.

But here’s what I’ve learned: when writing a song, I wait on inspiration. When preaching, the inspiration has already happened—it’s God’s inspired Word in the pulpit and in your lap. There’s no such thing as an irrelevant text. If God said it, it’s in season.

Look at what the herald does when he opens his mouth: “reprove, rebuke, and exhort.” These are three distinct actions. Reprove targets the mind—showing where thinking is wrong. Rebuke targets the will—telling someone to stop. Exhort targets the heart—coming alongside lovingly to urge forward. The word for exhort shares a root with the Holy Spirit’s title, Helper or Comforter.

Paul is showing us God’s Word comes for the whole person: mind, will, and heart. That’s worship. God isn’t after attendance; He’s after all of you. A sermon that only addresses one-third of you isn’t worship; it’s mere agreement.

When the whole Word comes for the whole person, something is asked of you: change your mind, stop sinning, get back up. This is more than good listening or note-taking; it requires response. Worship happens when God speaks and His people answer.

Paul warns in verses 3 and 4 that a time is coming when people won’t endure sound teaching—they won’t put up with it. They’ll have itching ears and accumulate teachers to suit their passions, turning away from truth to myths.

The itch comes first, then they shop for preachers who tell them what they want to hear. They do what I said the preacher must not do: edit the message. This is prevalent today. People arrange their lives to avoid hearing what would change them.

Paul tells Timothy to “always be sober-minded,” endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, and fulfill your ministry. The preacher models the truth so you can do the work of ministry in the world. The whole truth doesn’t stay in the building; it goes out through you.

Paul commands Timothy to stand before God, say every word God told him, change none, even when people don’t want to hear it. He will suffer, keep his head clear, and finish completely. Who is sufficient for this task? Nobody.

Every Sunday, before preaching, I feel the weight of my insufficiency. I know my own sin and failures. It crushes me. But then I remember Isaiah’s vision. In the year King Uzziah died, Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up, with creatures calling “holy, holy, holy.” Isaiah cried, “Woe is me! I am a man of unclean lips.” He recognized his own unworthiness.

But then one creature touched Isaiah’s lips with a burning coal from the altar, saying, “Your guilt is taken away, your sin atoned for.” Then Isaiah heard the voice, “Whom shall I send?” Isaiah answered, “Here I am. Send me.”

Notice the order: Isaiah is cleansed before he is commissioned. This is the first answer to who is sufficient: no one has clean lips, but God cleanses us—not with coal, but by His own blood.

The second answer is Jesus, the perfect Herald. John calls Him the Word made flesh. Jesus is not just a messenger; He is the message. He stood before a generation with itching ears but never softened the message. His faithfulness led to the cross, where He declared, “It is finished,” completing redemption.

So where does that leave us? What is the preacher doing? Paul commands Timothy to fulfill his ministry, and later says the Lord stood by him and strengthened him so the message might be fully proclaimed. The Lord fulfills the ministry through flawed instruments.

This is true for all preachers. Paul was deserted by men but strengthened by the Lord’s presence. The same God who judges is the one who sustains.

This is not just for preachers. The God present while I preach is the God who stands with you as you speak the whole truth in your lives. You don’t stand alone; He stands with you to the end of the age.

That is what makes this hour of preaching worship—not a good talk or a polished speech, but that God was present, spoke, and stood beside us while preaching and receiving happened.

For months, we’ve asked, “What is God doing here?” The answer for the sermon: He is speaking and standing beside us. Worship happens when God speaks and His people answer.

God has spoken this morning. Now it’s your turn to respond. Some of you say, “Lord, my lips are unclean. Touch my lips and make them clean.” Some say, “I’ve held back the 10% for years. Help me be brave to speak truth in love.” Others say, “I’ve arranged my life to avoid hearing what would change me. Help me respond, repent, obey, love, and grow.”

Respond and make this moment part of your worship. Then go and tell the whole world the whole truth. The same God who was present here will stand beside you when you speak. Be brave. The world is dying and lost without hope. They need Jesus and heralds to speak Him.

Let’s pray.

Our Father and our God, we thank You for Your Word. Thank You that You speak through broken, flawed men. You fix what comes out of our mouths and deposit it deep into our hearts so we might grow in worship, so our affections don’t grow cold, so we tell ourselves the truth when we don’t believe it. God, You have done so much for us. We pray that when we come into this building, we don’t see the sermon as a time to check our phones or disconnect, but that we are fully engaged because You are speaking, You are present, and You are changing us. Make us those kinds of people. We can only do that with Your help, so we beg You, God, help us. Help us, God. We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.