If you could learn to preach from one man in particular, whom would you choose? Some may want to mention big names of today. Others may be entranced by great preachers of the past, the names that echo through history. Perhaps, closer to home, a dear mentor left a particular imprint upon us.

But what about the apostles, men full of the Holy Spirit, and their inspired sermons recorded in Scripture? Should we not learn from them first? In a delightful book called Peter: Eyewitness of His Majesty, my friend Ted Donnelly speaks of Peter as a disciple, as a preacher, and as a pastor. The book is a magnificent treatment of this servant of Christ. Some years before my friend himself passed into Christ’s presence, he preached on Acts 2 and identified some of the features of Peter’s preaching. I gladly acknowledge my debt in what follows.

What, then, can the record of apostolic preaching teach us? What lessons might we learn to help us declare the whole counsel of God? Turning to Peter’s sermon at Pentecost (Acts 2:14–40), let me suggest seven features of apostolic preaching that we can and should pursue.

Peter manifestly preaches in the here and now, beginning with the striking assertion about the disciples’ sobriety (Acts 2:15). Peter preaches an immediately relevant sermon as a man who knows where and when he speaks, and with whom. His sermon proceeds from a real person and is to, about, and for real people — those in Jerusalem who crucified the Lord of glory. He focuses on the most important matters — salvation from sin through faith in the Christ who died and rose. The sermon is earthy, preached by a dying man to dying men, yes, but also by a living man to living men, about the man who lived, died, and lives again forever.

Do we preach with the same sense of immediacy, with the same sense of reality? Do our messages seem like history lectures, or are people made to feel that this sermon pours from a present me to a present you?

2. Scriptural and Reasonable

Peter moves from explanation to exposition to application to persuasion. He takes account of his hearers’ experience, but he uses Scripture to interpret, explain, and confirm it (as in 2 Peter 1:19). Dealing with what his congregation knows, sees, and hears, he turns to Joel 2 to explain the work of the Spirit, to Psalm 16 to emphasize the reality of the resurrection, to Psalm 110 to connect the ascension of Christ with the grant of the Spirit.

Again and again, Peter makes the point, “This is that! That is what it says, and this is what it means.” He is preaching like Christ, employing what I call an apostolic hermeneutic, which Christ patterned for his disciples in Luke 24:27 and 44–48. Does our preaching rest in and rely upon the word of God? Are we manifestly proclaimers and explainers of divine truth, and chiefly of Christ as he is set forth in all the Scriptures?

3. Doctrinal and Instructive

I doubt anyone has ever been asked to preach a distinctly Trinitarian sermon, blending the richest insights of biblical and systematic theology, and covering such topics as theology proper, Christology, pneumatology, prolegomena, anthropology, soteriology, sacramentology, eschatology, and ecclesiology. You might consider such a request ridiculous or even impossible. Yet I suggest that Peter manages it here!

All these notes resonate and combine at Pentecost. Peter introduces all of them naturally, accessibly, substantially, and forcefully — sermonically! Peter is a true theologian, and his sermon is the fruit of Christ’s instruction and the Spirit’s illumination. But he is also a true preacher: though well taught, he doesn’t feel the need to parade his learning. He is neither entertaining the goats nor straining the giraffes. He is calling and feeding the sheep, and therefore he both knows and shows his theology appropriately. His scholarship is not lofty and academic, but consecrated to save and sustain souls through the plainest of declarations.

Are we preaching meaty or milky sermons, according to the needs of our hearers? Good preaching sets forth doctrine sometimes centrally, sometimes incidentally, so that the truth comes across as deep, clear, and sweet to the congregation.

4. Christian and Adoring

Peter’s sermon is theologically rich, but it zeroes in on the Lord Jesus Christ. Peter’s sermons, like Paul’s and others recorded in the New Testament, are full of the Lord Jesus, overflowing with precious truth concerning him. The Pentecost sermon is ardently and urgently Christ-centered, Christ-focused, Christ-exalting. The prophets spoke of him; God sent him; we trust him. He who is God the Son is also identified as true man, the promised man, the sent man, the crucified man, the risen man, the ascended man, the exalted man, the gracious man, the saving man.

“Have we preached, will we preach, a gospel that is whole and holy, free and full, sweet and saving?”

Remember, Peter is preaching to people who knew the Old Testament and among whom Jesus of Nazareth had physically walked. If they needed such instruction, how much more do hearers today? People do not know, or even know about, Jesus of Nazareth. They need men who are urgent and ardent to tell them of the Savior. Are we as preachers going out to tell people about Jesus Christ? Are we eager for people to hear of him, or do we not believe that the preaching of Christ will prove God’s means of bringing sinners to faith?

5. Applied and Direct

“Men and brothers,” said Peter, “Let me speak freely . . .” (Acts 2:29 NKJV). And he meant it! Read through the sermon again. Peter is plain, open, bold, and courageous. He looks his congregation in the eye and speaks to them. He speaks with startling bluntness: “This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. . . . Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified” (Acts 2:23, 36).

This is not hectoring speech; nor is it unrighteously aggressive. We should expect the word of God to dig, to press, to probe, to trouble the soul, to cut to the heart. When the Spirit brings it home, hearers cry out, “What shall we do?” (Acts 2:37). The seraphic Samuel Pearce pleaded,

Give me the preacher who opens the folds of my heart; who accuses me, convicts me, and condemns me before God; who loves my soul too well to suffer me to go on in sin, unreproved, through fear of giving me offence; who draws the line with accuracy, between the delusions of fancy, and the impressions of grace; who pursues me from one hiding place to another, until I am driven from every refuge of lies; who gives me no rest until he sees me, with unfeigned penitence, trembling at the feet of Jesus; and then, and not till then, soothes my anguish, wipes away my tears, and comforts me with the cordials of grace.

Do we expect such preaching? If necessary, will we seek it out? Do we as preachers express truth directly, or do we fudge and shave, blunting the edge of the Jerusalem blade? Do we expect and desire our preaching to provoke the question, “What shall we do?” or have we become experts in turning aside the thrust of divine truth?

6. Affectionate and Gracious

Peter’s most direct speech does not lack love. He speaks to them and toward them, for them (Acts 2:14, 21–22, 29, 38–39). He holds back neither the horror of sin nor the hope of salvation. These last days are gospel days! The good news is being proclaimed to all: repent and believe in Christ, and you shall be saved. (Matthew Henry delightfully calls this offer “a plank after shipwreck.”) Then be baptized, identifying yourself with the Jesus of Scripture, the Christ from Nazareth. Forgiveness will be granted, and the Holy Spirit, who is God himself, will dwell in you to purify you, to bless you, to keep you.

Do we know how to combine the straight and the sweet? Have we learned, under God, to wound and to bind up? Do we know and love the people before us and around us, and so speak? Have we preached, will we preach, a gospel that is whole and holy, free and full, sweet and saving? Have we received the Jesus who brings salvation, and do we delight to tell others of him?

7. Blessed and Fruitful

Peter’s sermon strikes home hard and deep. Those cut to the heart cry out, “Brothers, what shall we do?” And soon after, “those who received his word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls” (Acts 2:37, 41). Solemnity and scorn gave way to serious concern, and the Lord granted salvation to thousands. This sermon, preached by a man full of the Holy Spirit, instructed by the Savior and illuminated by the Helper, is a carrying out of the Great Commission. As Peter obeys the command of Christ, three thousand receive the word, are baptized, and so are added to the number of the believers (perhaps more than Christ saw in all the days of humiliation, if we so read John 14:12).

Do we not have the same gospel? Do we not have the same Savior? Do we not have the same Spirit? Can we not preach similar sermons? Can we not pray for and expect similar results? I mean not so much the great numbers (though neither do I dismiss them), but rather the same spiritual reality and heavenly force?

Here is a model for truly apostolic preaching, an example for those who follow in the faith and labor of the apostles. We are not apostles, but we can desire more of the apostolic spirit. In that sense, we can and should seek to preach apostolic sermons, not as cold constructs according to some dry standard, but as the products of burning hearts taken up with Christ and desiring, above all things, the glory of God in him, and the eternal good of all those who hear.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/14749309/individualism-and-solidarity-in-the-church

Audio Transcript

What makes for a best friend? That’s the question from one listener today, a friend of ours. “Pastor John, I was recently asked by a friend of mine to explain your theology of friendship. I’ll say what I said and see if I got it right or wrong. Here’s my summary, and I’ll let you approve or disapprove or correct this and then substantiate it as you please. Okay. I said this. First, in this universe, Christ is of greatest worth. There’s no greater attainment in life or in death than to know and to love him. That means — he means — the value of our friendships is determined by how much of Christ we see in a person and how closely we can work to share Christ to the world through that relationship.

“So, a non-Christian friend, all about themselves, their own self-image and success, is a dead end. There’s nothing of Christ being magnified in them to us or to the world. We get nothing of Christ in them, and we cannot partner to show Christ to the world. So, a friendship with a non-Christian is of lesser value, beyond us seeking to be Christ to them — which itself is important. However, true Christian friends, our best friends, those whose lives are all about Christ and living for his glory, are a means of us seeing Christ and receiving his grace. And with such friends, we participate together to show the worth of Christ to the world, which is the highest value and delight friendship can ever attain or experience.

“This raises the bar on all our friendships, even the friendship we have with our spouse too. Christ gives our relationships worth — reflecting him to one another and sharing him together. Pastor John, what do I get right? What do I get wrong?”

Well, that’s pretty weighty and amazing. And yes, I think I could affirm that vision as essential to friendship and the way I would think about friendship. So, I’m happy with what he said there. It might shed light on the more relational nature of friendships — or the nitty-gritty, practical dimension of friendships — if we start not with the great, ultimate values (which he did and I’m fine with; I love it), but also you can come at it with the nitty-gritty statements about friendship in the Bible. So, let’s try that. Let’s see what happens if we put together these two approaches, one from the bottom up and one from the top down.

Friends and Neighbors

Here’s one remarkable thing about the word “friend” in the Old Testament, for example. There is one Hebrew word, re’ah, behind almost all the uses of the word “neighbor” and the word “friend.” It’s the same Hebrew word behind both. About eighty times, the word re’ah is translated “neighbor,” and about thirty times that same word is translated “friend,” and only a tiny handful of other Hebrew words are translated “neighbor” or “friend.”

“Friendship is crucial for us in life and ministry.”

Now, one of the implications of this is that the Jewish people who spoke this Hebrew language did not have a peculiar word that they used for friend — that’s amazing — the way we do and the way the New Testament does. We’ll get there in just a minute. The word they used most often for “friend,” almost always, was the same generic word used for “neighbor.”

One dictionary defines re’ah as “those persons with whom one is brought into contact, with whom one must live on account of circumstances of life.” Well, good grief, that’s about as general as you could get. So, the generic word re’ah covers those who are ethnically near you or geographically near you or vocationally near you or near you because of some common interest. It’s very broad. So, our understanding of friendship as it emerges from the Old Testament is not based on the meaning of a particular word but rather on the nature of the relationship in different situations.

Closer Than a Neighbor

Here are some examples, because there really is a vision of friendship in the Old Testament, but not because of a peculiar word.

“Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from his earnest counsel” (Proverbs 27:9). So, clearly, the reality of friendship as a close relationship of trust and helpfulness is there. It really existed. Or Proverbs 27:6: “Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy.” So here, there’s a clear difference between someone who is near and hostile and someone who is near and friendly. So, “friend” is someone who’s not only near you, but for you. Or Proverbs 18:24: “A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” So here, “friend” is closer than many companions, but not a biological brother, yet even more committed to you than a brother. And Proverbs 17:17: “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.”

So, it’s clear, I think, that even though there is no peculiar word for “friend” as distinct from “neighbor” in the Old Testament, the reality of a close, deep, strong bonding is clearly present in the Old Testament: earnest counsel, sweetness of camaraderie, faithful wounds, no enmity, closer than a brother, trusted to be there in the worst of times.

And like our friend said (who sent in this question), in a God-besotted culture — like Old Testament Judaism was at its best — this earnest counsel, sweet camaraderie, faithful wounds, brotherly closeness, constancy in the worst of times, all of this is in the service of knowing and trusting and enjoying and obeying the greatness of God. If a friend began to take us away from devotion to God, he would by definition pass from being a friend to being an enemy.

One Who Loves

Now, here’s what’s remarkable when we turn to the New Testament. We just read in Proverbs 17:17, “A friend loves at all times.” Now, unlike the Hebrew of the Old Testament, the Greek of the New Testament does not treat “neighbor” and “friend” with the same word. It separates “friend” and “neighbor” into two words. “Neighbor” picks up on the idea of nearness. That’s what plēsion means, essentially, when it’s translated “neighbor” (and that is the word for “neighbor” in the New Testament), “the one who is near.”

And “friend” picks up on the idea of love. “A friend loves at all times.” About 30 of the 36 uses of the English word “friend” in the English New Testament are a translation of philos. Philos is a word relating to love. We get Philadelphia: brotherly love, city of brotherly love. We get philosophy: love of wisdom. Friend is never a translation of plēsion — “neighbor” or “the near one.” It always is carrying this idea of “a friend loves at all times.” So, the vocabulary of friendship in the New Testament becomes less geographical or spatial and more affectional.

And here’s a really significant illustration of that. In James 2:23, it says, “[Abraham] was called a friend of God.” But when you go back to Isaiah 41:8 and 2 Chronicles 20:7, which are the only two places where Abraham is called God’s friend, in both texts, the word “friend” is not the word re’ah, but the participle of the word love, ’āhaḇ. “The one who loves God” is the literal translation which comes over into New Testament Greek as “the friend of God,” because the word “friend” carries such connotations of love.

Crucial Companions

So, the upshot of all this is to say that, in addition to that big picture that our friend painted for me — capturing the big, Godward notion of friendship — to that can be added now some details (put some flesh on the bones) by observing that friendship involves earnest counsel coming from each other, a sweetness of camaraderie, faithful wounds if necessary, constancy of being there for each other in the best and the worst of times.

A friend is unique in not quite being the same as a brother or a sister, and not being quite the same as a spouse, but being a — what should we say? — a comrade in a shared vision as you pull together for some significant cause. And my assumption is that the importance of this kind of friendship is why Jesus always sent out his emissaries — his apostles and workers — two by two, not by themselves, and why the apostle Paul always traveled and ministered in groups, in friends. He was very eager not to be left alone anywhere. In other words, this kind of friendship is crucial for us in life and ministry.