A Particular Gospel

Proclamation in the Vernacular of the Parish

The Bible reserves sharp words for all who dilute and distort the good news (Galatians 1:6-9; Matthew 23:13-36). But, are distorted Gospels ever in short supply?  One could argue distorted Gospels are almost always in mass production. Hooded “Christians” have long carried burning crosses. The mob that violently stormed the capitol was littered with Jesus signs. Prosperity gospels clutter bookshelves from coast to coast. Undoubtedly, you’ve heard a preacher proclaim “a Jesus” you’d be hard-pressed to find in the Sacred Script. It’s commonplace to see Jesus’ name invoked on both sides of conflicts, but is Jesus really up for grabs? We live amidst a sea of noise that challenges the call to proclaim God’s word to God’s people. There is no more sacred work than faithful proclamation. I want to keep advocating for the proclamation of a particular Gospel in the language of a particular people. The embodied truth demands rejecting boutique gospels and laying aside one-size-fits-all approaches

Boutique stores curate products and experiences to satisfy the demands of a particular market. Boutique gospels walk the same trail. In these terms, proclamation is little more than applied market research. The spoken word becomes a custom blend crafted on the whims of whatever our people are asking. If people desire to hear nothing about race and faith, then no problem, we’ll make no mention. Does it feel unbecoming to speak of social justice or single-minded allegiance to Yahweh? Strike it from the record. If language about lust doesn’t land well, then we won’t use it. While such edits are rarely branded and broadcast to the church, they are commonplace within it. Such distortions should make us shudder. If something Jesus clearly teaches sounds too political or traditional, do we really believe we hold the right to crop the picture?  Proclamation in the language of the parish cannot be reduced to a popular vote of the people.

It would be grand to think women and men who stand to proclaim the word of God are exclusively steered by the Spirit and never swayed by the crowd. It would be grand, but it would also be naïve. History is littered with examples of compromised messages that were shaped more by congregational expectations than they were by Scripture.  In 1965, 48 clergy members were trained at the Urban Training Center for Christian Mission (UTC) in Chicago. Each pastor shared convictions about what the role of the pastor should be in the Civil Rights Movement. They were trained at the same place, at the same time, and held the same convictions. However, they did not proceed the same way. Four clergy members pastored integrated inner-city churches that were more sympathetic to the purpose of the marches and all four of those pastors were arrested. Of the nine clergy members who were not pastoring a church at the time, and consequently not constrained by congregation expectations, all but two were arrested (78 percent). By contrast, only 37 percent of pastors who were pastoring white churches in the city were arrested. Of the 10 remaining clergy members who preached in white suburban churches, only 1 of those pastors would be arrested.¹ Either that is a remarkable coincidence of conscience or evidence that on some level the convictions of clergy are ultimately “constrained and shaped by the wishes of the congregation.”² Certainly, there are prophetic exceptions to this trend, servants who refuse to squelch the Spirit’s leading under the weight of what the congregation is expecting. Proclaiming a particular Gospel demands an expansion of these prophetic voices. Lopping off parts of the Gospel is something few preachers would ever explicitly endorse but it is something we are all vulnerable to. Acknowledging the effects of congregational expectations is a step in the direction of eroding boutique gospels.  

Congregational expectations cannot fully account for how preachers have trimmed undesirable edges off the Gospel. Jesus said, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.” (Luke 4:18). Why did Jesus make so much mention of the poor? What is lost if we search out texts without that emphasis? It doesn’t take long for the cement to set in our own “cannons within the cannon.” It is astonishingly easy to snip the less familiar edges along with the less compelling parts of Scripture. One way to counteract this vulnerability is to work together with accountability. I believe preachers need diverse tables of interpretation to encounter the living Word together. Tables that will expose my sometimes-subconscious selections. It would be hard to exaggerate the insight and beauty I am finding from regularly reading texts in a community. I share a table and study every week with a local lectionary group. We read our scheduled teaching texts with a volunteer team every month. I am consistently preaching collaboratively with peers who are preaching the same texts in their contexts.  Most disciplines promote peer-reviewed learning, so why not preachers?  We expand and enhance our portraits of God when we take the time to listen with people who are also listening to the Word of God for the people of God. I believe such listening can be a firewall for distorted gospels.

It could seem like the antidote to boutique gospels is an uncompromising one-size-fits-all, like-it-or-not, proclamation. Indeed, such proclamation would not bend with the whims and wishes of a particular congregation. The church could elevate a handful of voices who artfully, skillfully, and unflinchingly proclaim the word of God.  These voices could then simply be streamed into all kinds of local contexts.  The glaring weakness of such approaches is the way they minimize the weight of embodied revelation. God chooses to reveal God’s self in particular ways to people who live in particular places.

For example, take the ending of the letters to the Romans and the Philippians  (Romans 16:1-23; Philippians 4:2-3, 15-23). Hear the names of Phoebe, Euodia, Syntyche, Andronicus, and Junia. Wouldn’t the Bible read better without such lists? If God’s intent was merely to record timeless revelation that will plug-and-play without translation, then the Bible falls short. However, I believe what we have is better! We see particular people striving to embody the Gospel in particular contexts.  Studying the way Paul pastors particular people through particular vulnerabilities in Corinth is a master class for all contemporary preachers struggling to proclaim the word in a polarized world. Our task is not to copy and paste the conclusions of the first Christians mindlessly. Rather, our work is to enroll in the same sacred work of embodying the good news of Jesus Christ in the places God plants us. For instance, Paul advised that widows under the age of 60 should not be allowed on the registry (1 Timothy 5:9). One could copy and paste this conclusion or we could seek to understand what Paul aimed to embody. Where was Paul ministering? Why did he proclaim this word in this context? Furthermore, if Paul was trying to identify the most vulnerable, should we not enroll in the same pursuit? The names and circumstances matter!

When I call the names of Bob Smith, Judy Flatt, or Ty Osman, a world of memories is unleashed in the two local congregations I’ve served. The mere announcement of their names stirs my imagination. I remember seeing the feet of Dr. Bob Smith on a medical mission as his aging body was hoisted over the side of a boat used to access a remote village in Panama. How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news? I remember sharing that story with his beloved bride as we laid Bob to rest.  I can still feel the warmth of Judy Flatt’s hospitality. I miss her wit and wisdom. I can still hear the late Ty Osman musing, “You know I’ve never met a formerly generous person.” His embodied proclamation is still shaping us at Woodmont Hills Church.  While names like these may not be commonly known across the country, they were titans in our context. Frankly, I don’t want to worship in a context where names no longer matter.

The task of proclamation begins with listening. We listen to the Word of God with the people of God. It means listening to people long enough to hear their longings and their losses. It demands listening for the lies that prevent people from hearing the Gospel.³ If a preacher is not seeking to understand those things, then how will she ever understand where the Gospel intersects with those things? I recently heard Luke Timothy Johnson call pastoral ministry “the research arm of theology.” We can’t proclaim the gospel in the language of our people if we aren’t learning it.

Particular people present particular needs and opportunities. The vulnerabilities that one congregation carries into a particular season are rarely identical to a sister congregation. Should proclamations about vices or assets sound the same across zip codes?  I recall a preacher who was prompted to preach on the subject of modesty by appointed leaders. A concern about the clothing choices of select younger women had been raised. However, the preacher knew the context. He understood the more pervasive issue, in their flock, with modesty was tethered to wealth, not dress. He agreed to preach on modesty, but only when he could be honest also about the modesty of lifestyle.  The particular gospel deserves to be preached to particular people who reside in particular contexts.  You have likely lived through a Sunday where the only appropriate move for the preacher is to pause what is planned and acknowledge what everyone is carrying. If everything is watered down to generic syndicated programming across multiple sites, what happens to the particular opportunities and challenges of the gathered people?

To proclaim a particular Gospel in the vernacular of the parish is to denounce distorted gospels and lay aside one-size-fits-all approaches. Such proclamation begins by remembering the Gospel is embodied in the life of Jesus, who did not bend with the wind. Neither did Jesus speak from a teleprompter with some kind of universal language. When Jesus instructed would-be disciples to walk two miles when they were forced to walk one mile (Matthew 5:41), he proclaimed the Gospel in a particular context in the language of those people. Gospel proclamation deserves to be embodied and proclaimed by particular preachers in particular contexts.  

My pursuit of this calling is refueled by a growing desire to listen well. I know I have a lot to learn in my listening pursuit. There are no shortcuts to deep listening. But now, more than ever I feel the need to listen. I need to listen to the Word of God at diverse tables. As long as I am called to proclaim the Word of God to the people of God, I need to find ways to listen to the longings and losses of the particular people who are entrusted to my care. When I come face to face with the places where the Gospel intersects with those longings and losses, I remember the beauty of my calling. My call was never to save people. It is to bear witness to the Only One who can save us all. If you are reading this, you already know church leadership is rarely glamorous and often exhausting. May God encourage and equip you as you listen to the Word of God with the people of God so that you may faithfully proclaim it the language of the people.  

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Jeff Brown serves as the Lead Minister for the Woodmont Hills Church in Nashville, Tennessee. Jeff completed degrees from Oklahoma Christian University, a Master of Divinity from Harding School of Theology, and a Doctor of Ministry from Columbia Theological Seminary. He and his wife, Ashley, have six children.

1. Michael O. Emerson and Christian Smith, Divided by Faith: Evangelical Religion and the Problem of Race in America, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 165.

2. Ibid.

3. Scott Cormode, The Innovative Church: How Leaders and Their Congregations Can Adapt in an Ever-Changing World (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2020), 41.