On Milky Preaching

And Some Reflections on the Center for Pastor Theologians

In 2015 I was in a pub called The Bobbin in dark recesses of the north of Scotland where my dear friend Kevin Hargaden and I were eating a pile of salty chips (french fries). In between finger licks, we were discussing the increasing hostility to the humanities generally and to theology in particular in universities across the West. Economics was (and is) winning out. Supposedly, that which is worth studying is only worth it if it’s going to measurably boost the economy. It’s a sad state of affairs.

But as with every crisis, there’s also opportunity. Kevin looked at me and said, "it’s time for theology to find its home in the local church where it was always supposed to be.”

Kevin’s remark was galvanizing for me. I had already felt the Spirit’s tug to the local church, but I was concerned my PhD would be irrelevant. Kevin sparked my imagination. Now, over the years in my pastorate, I can say that I’ve hosted underground theology classes, worked with my district office to do continuing education for ministers, and adjuncted at a handful of ministerially-minded colleges.

But above all else, I’ve preached. Week after week, I have stood behind a lectern and transformed it into a pulpit. There, I have done theology. I’ve talk about God, I’ve spoken for God, I’ve addressed the church, I’ve challenged the world. Is there a more solemn theological task? I don’t think so.

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Pastors are supposed to be theologians.

This last week I was once again at the Center for Pastor Theologians conference in Oak Park, IL. The Center is of the conviction that not only ought pastors be theologians, but that they are. So, they say, the pastorate is the primary theological office of the church. I think they’re spot on.

This year’s conference theme was “Power and the Pulpit.” If the pastorate is the primary theological office for the church, then the sermon is the primary theological event. The sermon is the distended moment in which theology isn’t merely talked about but proclaimed. It’s the indispensable performance that connects the Scriptures and songs with the Supper. It brings it all together in a direct address of God to man through man (or, of course, woman).

It was a good and refreshing conference. Plenary speakers touched on theoretical matters of what it means to preach, what ought to be the content of our preaching, and—in general—how pastors can preach better. But we were also given living examples. Some speakers didn’t give lectures about preaching; they actually preached. I’ve always been convinced that the best way to learn how to preach is to imitate those who are good at it.

The theme that came up most consistently was the concern that celebrity pastors are corrupting preaching for everyone. Naively or otherwise, pastors increasingly feel the pressure to preach in such a way as to make themselves marketable. Book deals and podcasts seem to trump the task of caring for the flock. Katelyn Beaty presented, “How Not To Be A Celebrity Pastor.” And we heard from Mike Cosper, the host of the Rise and Fall of Mars Hill. Bottom line, I was pleased to be in a group of people who granted as a premise that super-star pastors are not the solution to the unprecedented decline of the church in the United States.

The conference was about making better theologians of preachers. But I also think it’s worth saying the inverse. Theologians ought to be preachers. Or, at the very least, theologians should make it their job to empower preachers in their task. I’m still in the local church, but my primary role has now switched to the university. Wherever I find myself, I intend to make theology preachable and preaching theological, and to help others do the same.

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So if we grant that the preaching of celebrity pastors is not the solution to our ecclesial predicament in the West, what is? There’s a lot to say, but at the very least I want to suggest that church renewal comes with a return to theological preaching. Let me put it this way: Preaching needs to be meaty, but it needs to be milky before it’s meaty. Right now, we’re not even getting milky preaching which means our predicament is indeed perilous.

The author of Hebrews suggests that the church will die unless she takes task of theological preaching seriously. The author expresses disappointment that the church needs “milk, not solid food” (Heb 5:12). Milk is the “elementary doctrines of Christ”—repentance, baptism, the laying on of hands, resurrection, and judgment (6:1-2). The author challenges the church to move on to maturity, which, the author says, is possible “if God permits.” The truly shocking bit comes next. Immediately after asking the church to move on from basic theology to maturity, he (or she) says that it is impossible to restore those who have fallen away. The strong implication is that, like a child, the church will either die from malnourishment if it solely drinks milk, or it will move on to meat and grow into the full stature of Christ. There’s no in between.

In my neck of the ecclesial woods, there’s a lot of pastors who don’t really know what to say about repentance, baptism, ordination and healing, the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. And all of that’s just the milk that will by no means nourish us into adulthood. Rather, I often hear sermons concerned with the church’s politically partisan task, about how to help your marriage get stronger, or how to stabilize your finances.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about strong marriages and lifting the poor from poverty. I’ve also supported various causes that might typically be associated with one political party. But none of that is milk, and we’re called to move onto meat.

Is the church in decline because we have a host of preachers who aren’t even offering milk when they’re supposed to be offering meat? In other words, is church in decline because we have failed to make preaching theological, and so have failed to make theology at home in the church?

Thankfully, the author of Hebrews gives us a place to start. If you’re a preacher, start by making every sermon have something to do with repentance, baptism, the laying on of hands, resurrection, and judgment. If you’re not a preacher, do your part to ask for this milk you so desperately need.

Once we’re getting regular milk, then we can start talking about meat. How to select the right cut, marinate it, what temp to cook it to, how long to let it rest, how to cut it against the grain, and how to pair it with the only wine worthy of such a feast—the blood of our Lord Jesus.