The Danish Christian theologian and philosopher Søren Kierkegaard
told the story of a festival big top that was filled with people prepared to
see a circus. A fire broke out behind the scenes and began to spread quickly. A
clown was told to run out to the main arena and tell the audience about the
fire and instruct everyone to leave. The clown quickly raced out from backstage
and began frantically telling the crowd about the fire. But instead of believing
the clown, the people just began to laugh at him. The more the clown screamed at
them to leave before it was too late, the more the crowd laughed at him. In the
end, most of the people died in the fire because they didn’t take the clown
seriously.
But can you really blame them? Who takes a clown seriously?
At so many churches the teaching pastors work hard at making the congregation laugh in their
messages. It's not all uncommon for humor to be injected throughout most sermons, with jokes, funny videos, and more being used to keep attendees
smiling and giggling.
Now, don’t get me wrong – I like to laugh as much as the
next person. And humor injected at certain points in a Sunday message can serve
the speaker’s purpose very well when intelligently used. But pastors need to be
careful about using the pulpit as the place for a comedy routine.
The fact is, there is likely no more significant and vital job
than that of the teaching pastor and no greater address given than the one in
which God’s Word is proclaimed. It’s said that before a sermon, John Knox used
to lock himself in a room and weep for days because he feared the seriousness
of his preaching duty. I wonder how many contemporary teaching pastors feel
that same sense of obligation?
Today’s pastors want to be liked, thought of as winsome and
hip and see the use of comedy in their messages as one way to bring about the
end result they desire. That’s too bad because that’s not what they’re called
to do. As John MacArthur says, “The preacher who brings the message people most
need to hear will often be the
preacher they least like to hear.” A. W. Tozer used to remark how he had
preached himself out of every conference and guest pulpit in the country. Read
his books, though, and you’ll find a depth and convicting bite that comes only
from God’s Holy Spirit. No humor, just God’s truth.
The pastor who relies on comedy consistently in his messages
will quickly come to resemble Kierkegaard’s clown in the minds of his
congregation. Entertaining? Yes. But let him try and talk earnestly about sin,
its consequences, Hell, eternal separation from God and see what happens. No one
(who needs to) will be moved to act. They’ll just sit there and die in the fire
they can’t see and don’t take seriously.
But can you really blame them? No one takes a clown
seriously.

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