Indeed, when a Christian’s best testimony to his neighbors is found in waiting patiently for governing officials to permit churches to gather again, thus denying Christ’s command to gather, we have a new instance of Corban—replacing the law of God with human traditions.

In January, a few members of our church put on our masks, boarded planes, and traveled to the Founders Conference, where we heard from the likes of Voddie Baucham, James Dolezal, Tom Ascol, and the leaders of Just Thinking, Virgil Walker and Darrell Harrison. In short, the trip, drenched in warm Florida sun, was encouraging, and the messages, saturated with biblical truth, were edifying—especially with respect to the subject of standing for Christ in an age that has become increasingly hostile towards Christians.

Addressing that subject and the new religion of universal autonomy and equality, Tom Ascol and Jared Longshore have released a new book called Strong and Courageous: Following Jesus Amid the Rise of America’s New Religion. Falling in line with newer books like Glenn Sunshine’s Slaying Leviathan and Rod Dreher’s Live Not by Lies, as well as older books like Francis Schaeffer’s A Christian Manifesto, and even older books like Samuel Rutherford’s Lex Rex: The Law and the King and Junius Brutus’s Vindiciae Tyrannos: A Defense of Liberty Against Tyrants, this new volume promises to bolster the church at a time when public silence and civil cowardice are spreading faster than COVID.
In other words, this book comes at a time when Christians and especially pastors need courage. And this will be a book I hand to many pastors, as it provides bold and biblical arguments that stand against the online pablum that undercuts biblical courage with Christian civility (read: niceness). Indeed, when a Christian’s best testimony to his neighbors is found in waiting patiently for governing officials to permit churches to gather again, thus denying Christ’s command to gather, we have a new instance of Corban—replacing the law of God with human traditions. But thankfully, some are seeing through this misguided application of Scripture and are providing solid food for God’s flock. And in Strong and Courageous, Ascol and Longshore do just that.
In particular, they observe how Christians have been lulled into a secular idea of love that says, “If you love me, you will affirm me, no questions asked.” Whether Christians recognize the connection or not, too many have been led to believe that loving neighbor means affirming and embracing the edicts of the government, no questions asked. Sure, many want to believe that their governors are doing what is in their best interest, but this gets to a fundamental question about what governors are for and how far governments can reach—do they really have the God-given authority to prescribe how your church worships? The answer is ‘No.’ Strong and Courageous gets into this subject and shows how governors have overreached—both with respect to America’s Constitution (as well as the constitutions of various states) and with respect to God’s appointed design for human rulers. For this reason, I highly commend the book.
Still, government overreach is not the point I want to highlight here. Instead, I want to stem the tide of defining Christian love in worldly ways (i.e., making moral commitments that are based on modern sentiments, rather than inspired Scripture). I fear that many Christians are attempting to bind the consciences of others in the name of Christian love with practices and priorities that do not come from Scripture itself. Rather, love has been (re)defined by a cultural catechesis delivered in public schools, by governing officials, and through an endless stream of social media influencers. Not to mention the fact that churches have done little to teach what Scripture says about church and state.
All told, Christians need to go back to Scripture and ask: What does it mean to love my neighbor? Romans 12 would be a good place to start. But outside of Scripture, Strong and Courageous provides a good counter-argument that the most loving thing we can do is to do all that our governors are saying. Actually, as they argue, the most loving thing we can do is call governors back from tyranny and fellow citizens to know the true love of God.
(N.B. If defying tyrants is an uncommon phrase, or if you are uncertain about what a tyrant looks like, go back to the list of books at the top, starting with Slaying Leviathan, and pick one up. Church history has much to offer in recognizing tyranny and understanding what Christians must do in response. American Christians have lived in relative freedom for so long, our “defying tyrants” muscles are flaccid. Some don’t know we even have them, or need them. But we do. For without that biblical duty, we cannot properly love God or our neighbor.)
Now, here is the quote in full.
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Even before the value shift to diversity instead of the universal Gospel, some mission departments changed their names to ‘intercultural studies.’  This involved reconceiving the method and purpose of mission studies.  Instead of being about understanding the Gospel, the focus was now on understanding the audiences.  Instead of missions understood through Biblical and theological interpretation, it was now a project of the social sciences—anthropology, culture, and sociology.  Instead of involving evangelism to the lost, it was now about dialogue and understanding.  Instead of understanding the Gospel as all about the world streaming to the cross to make their garments white in the blood of the Lamb, the public square’s value of diversity ruled the agenda. 

I continue to be very pessimistic about the public square, expecting an increasing opposition to and persecution of Christians throughout the world.  This is based on reading stories daily about how Christians are opposed, sued, discriminated against, deplatformed, and ridiculed.  This does not mean for me a disengagement with the world but a recalculation of what that engagement involves.  The prophets found themselves in the important role in ancient Israel of telling the governmental and social powers of their day that they did not know God.  As the West today becomes increasingly anti-Christian, not simply post-Christian, in its values and practices, and as it redefines virtues in anti-Christian ways, the Church’s engagement with the public square ought to be less and less a matter of finding common cause with others in the pursuit of justice but needs rather to be a matter of showing the world that it is not the Kingdom of God.  An anti-Christian vision of the world defines social justice in a way that is opposed to divine justice.
One significant way to describe the moral changes in public discourse about justice is in terms of social values.  Not that long ago, Western values were defined in terms of human rights, based on the notion that all humans were equal.  Freedom and equality became the primary values for the West.  The American version of this argument involved a Deist understanding: the Creator made humans from the same cloth, so to speak, and He endowed them with inalienable rights in the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness, as Thomas Jefferson put it in the Declaration of Independence.  The French had their secular understanding of this, but it, too, highlighted similar values: equality, liberty, and fraternity.  Over the history of secular Western modernity hung the vestige of a Judeo-Christian worldview involving freedom and equality for all because there is one God, Creator of all.  With this loosely Christian version of justice, Christians could usually agree—it was their ethic, after all, that stood at the root of Deist and secularist versions of the public square’s ethic.  Thus, Christians could frequently engage the public square in common cause with non-Christians.  Or they could, at least, dialogue and argue with them.
In the 21st century, however, these values have been shuffled to the storage closet and three new values have been erected in the public square: diversity, equity, and inclusion.  Not a few in the West have been duped by the reshuffling of values, thinking that there is continuity between what was and what is now proclaimed as truths self-evident.  The three new values are all predicated on the essential differences of humanity, not their essential sameness.  Instead of universal commonality or unity we now have diversity.  Instead of equality we now have equity.  Instead of God’s work of inclusion, His mission—Christians would say His offer of salvation through Jesus’ sacrificial death for the sins of the world—we have strictly human efforts at inclusion, particularly of things God calls sin.  The shift in values in the public square has left many Christians speechless.  Thinking that diversity, equity, and inclusion sound like worthy values, ones Christians might affirm, they have been confused at the resultant changes in Western society.
I recall one well-meaning Christian jumping on the Black Lives Matter bandwagon only a short while ago, thinking that this racist organization was all about racial justice.  I know a seminary administration and board that has made diversity its mantra, even down to replacing white male authors on its syllabi for anything else—as though truth wears the faces of the authors writing about it and academic excellence is found in readers’ responses rather than critical arguments.  I know of ministers who crafted confused sermons about diversity, equity, or inclusion, not realizing that they were shifting the congregation’s eyes from the cross to street activism, from the Church’s mission to the public square’s version of justice.  The confusion comes because activist efforts in the face of perceived or actual injustices are easily endorsed without realizing that they are defined and pursued in entirely non-Christian ways.  Justice in the Kingdom of God is not a mere quantitative improvement of justice in the public square; it is a qualitatively different understanding of justice.
Some ‘evangelical’ seminaries have contributed to the confusion.  Even before the value shift to diversity instead of the universal Gospel, some mission departments changed their names to ‘intercultural studies.’  This involved reconceiving the method and purpose of mission studies.  Instead of being about understanding the Gospel, the focus was now on understanding the audiences.  Instead of missions understood through Biblical and theological interpretation, it was now a project of the social sciences—anthropology, culture, and sociology.  Instead of involving evangelism to the lost, it was now about dialogue and understanding.  Instead of understanding the Gospel as all about the world streaming to the cross to make their garments white in the blood of the Lamb, the public square’s value of diversity ruled the agenda.  In an Evangelical seminary, beyond the mission department changes, this might not be so blatantly presented as the study of other religions.  It might also be presented as a communal journey toward social diversity.  The result is to focus on ourselves, not the cross of Jesus Christ.
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If you keep “glorifying God through faithful and clear communication of your text” as the goal of your preaching, then trimming down your sermon can become just another act of faithfulness and worship.

For me, the hardest part of preparing a teaching or sermon is figuring out what information to leave out. Cutting down a sermon is incredibly difficult. This difficulty is compounded by the fact that it is very hard to find actual guidance on how to trim down a sermon. There are dozens of great resources for how to write better sermons, how to outline, how to write sermon application. But I have found very little concrete guidance for how to discern what parts of a sermon to keep, and what to edit out.
The Problem of Over-stuffed Sermons
There is an unfortunate tendency to equate a good, Biblical sermon with how many details a preacher or teacher gives. This tendency leads to what I will call “over-stuffed” sermons. These are sermons that are Biblical, sound, but try to communicate too much information in the allotted time slot. Sermons that are over-stuffed end up becoming less clear to the congregation. Listeners spend so much time trying to keep track of the many details you are giving rather than meditating on the main point of the text.
Now, I want to make an important distinction before going on. As a Bible-teacher or preacher, you must go into a great level of detail in your analysis when preparing a sermon. In your Bible study leading up to a preaching or teaching, you must dig into any and all details contained in your text. You must cross-reference, outline, look up the original languages, make observation after observation, and more if you want to get to the meaning of the text you are teaching. However, the art of preaching is in discerning which details to actually present to your congregation in a Sunday morning sermon. In other words, when you go from your study to the pulpit, you must trim down your sermon to only the most important textual details. If you simply go up and preach your detailed Bible study notes, chances are you are preaching and over-stuffed sermon.
The Solution: Trim Down Your Sermon to the Essential Details
In my experience, sermon length is generally driven by how many details you end up communicating in your sermon. How many points and sub-points do you have? How many words do you define from the pulpit? What cross-references do you include? Historical anecdotes? Illustrations? Applications? Therefore, to trim down a sermon, you must discern which of these details are essential to communicate, and which are secondary. The essential details should end up in your final sermon. Secondary details, on the other hand, you can trim out of your sermon to fit your allotted time and to ensure your congregation does not get lost in an over-stuffed teaching.
This seems obvious so far. But the question is how do you trim down a sermon? How can you discern which details are essential and which are secondary? Most of the time when I have asked for guidance on trimming down a sermon, I have gotten some form of “there is an art to it” or “I’m not that great at it myself, so I’m a bad example.” While it is certainly difficult to make universal rules, there is a helpful process you can go through to at least help you discern what details are essential and which are not. The process is simple: go through each section, point, detail, or cross reference in the first draft of your manuscript, and ask the following four questions (in order):
1. Does this detail give information that is mostly repeated elsewhere in the sermon?
I call this the “redundancy” test. Repetition is important in communication, but if you go to 10 cross-references in a sermon which all make the same point, maybe you can cut 8-9 of those cross-references and save yourself (and your listeners) some time. If a sermon point, observation, or application is too similar to information previously given in your sermon, you should probably cut it. Redundant details are by definition secondary and non-essential.
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