With both the challenges and prerequisites to preaching persuasively in mind, we would do well to heed a biblical example. The apostle Paul was not merely a theoretician when it came to preaching; he was a practitioner—and we see his philosophy of preaching, so to speak, tested in Acts 25:23–26:32, as he is on trial before King Agrippa. For what was Paul on trial? In short, it was on account of the Gospel. “We have found [Paul] a plague,” the Jewish elders reported, “one who stirs up riots among all the Jews” (Acts 24:5). The implication is clear: faithful Gospel preaching is unsettling to many. Paul is proof that preaching isn’t popular with everyone. So confident was Paul in the Gospel, though, that he appealed to defend it before the highest authority in Rome: Caesar (Acts 25:12). 

Preaching isn’t popular. W. E. Sangster, writing in mid-twentieth-century Britain, remarked, “Preaching is in the shadows. The world does not believe in it.”1 If he were around today, he might have broadened his observation to include not only secular society but the church also.
When we speak of preaching, we don’t mean some well-intentioned individual addressing his audience with a certain degree of enthusiasm. We’re talking about a Spirit-filled, Bible-based, Christ-exalting delivery of the Scripture through a God-appointed ambassador. Regrettably, the appetite for this kind of preaching is dwindling. And if baseline biblical preaching is increasingly unpopular, persuasive biblical preaching is even more so. No preaching is more unpopular than that which addresses men and women’s stubborn wills, calling them to repentance and faith in Jesus.
Yet while unpopular, persuasive preaching is exactly the kind of work to which God calls faithful preachers. The apostolic pattern pushes us to swim against the cultural current, urging lost people to repent and believe the Gospel (Acts 18:4; 28:23; 2 Tim. 4:3–5).
In 2 Corinthians 5:20, Paul outlines the call to persuasive preaching: “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” Appeal. Implore. Be reconciled. This is the vocabulary of Christ’s embassy. Our task is neither easy nor comfortable. In fact, at least three challenges will accompany the “message of reconciliation”(2 Cor. 5:19) to which we are appointed as stewards.
The Challenges of Persuasive Preaching
The first set of challenges are personal in nature. Really, the challenges preachers face will always be personal, for when we preach, we stand between a holy God and finite men and women. Our sense of natural inhibition is to be expected. It’s no surprise, then, that Paul refers to Gospel ministers as “jars of clay” (2 Cor. 4:7), fragile vessels in whom resides the priceless good news of Jesus.
This sense of inadequacy might reveal itself further in a tendency toward self-preservation. That is, in the spirit of following cultural trends or saving face, we might be at times unwilling to bring the Word’s demands to bear on our listeners. Tragically, the very message lost people need is that which many of us are guilty of altering.
Hear Charles Spurgeon’s plea for powerful, Gospel-focused preaching:
The Gospel is preached in the ears of all; it only comes with power to some. The power that is in the Gospel does not lie in the eloquence of the preacher, otherwise men would be converters of souls. Nor does it lie in the preacher’s learning, otherwise it would consist in the wisdom of man. … We might preach till our tongues rotted, till we should exhaust our lungs and die, but never a soul would be converted unless there were the mysterious power of the Holy Ghost going with it, changing the will of man. O sirs! we might as well preach to stone walls as to preach to humanity unless the Holy Ghost be with the Word, to give it power to convert the soul.2
There are also cultural challenges in preaching. In the late twentieth century, Neil Postman wrote a book titled Amusing Ourselves to Death, in which he asserted, “The name we may properly give to an education without prerequisites, perplexity and exposition is entertainment.”3 What is true of modern education is also true for much of today’s preaching. Where are the calls to think carefully upon, drink deeply from, and respond sober-mindedly to God’s Word as it’s taught from the pulpit? The cultural demand for entertainment has in many places eclipsed the distinguishing marks of true, persuasive preaching.
Finally, ministers encounter theological challenges in their task. Preaching is theological work. But we must see to it that our doctrinal frameworks are shaped by the whole of biblical truth rather than shaping our interpretation of Scripture. For example, the necessity for repentance does not undercut God’s sovereignty in salvation (Acts 17:30), nor is grace in our justification contrary to effort in our sanctification (Phil. 2:12–13). As we formulate our systematic theology, we would do well to ask, “How does this doctrine work in Jesus’ ministry?” The teachings of our Lord in the Gospels are like guardrails for our preaching, keeping us from veering off the beaten path of truth.
The Basics of Persuasive Preaching
For each of the three challenges to our preaching there is a biblical solution. In fact, Paul addresses these personal, cultural, and theological challenges in 2 Corinthians 5:19–21.
The remedy to theological confusion, Paul asserts, is Gospel clarity: “In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Cor. 5:19).
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I’ve often heard it said that the easiest thing in the world is to spend other people’s money. But it’s just as easy to give people counsel that may cost them dearly but cost you nothing. I know I can be prone to this and suspect other pastors can as well. Hence, my encouragement to myself and to others is to do our absolute utmost to count the cost—to count the cost for the people we love, the people we are called to serve, the people we are called to teach and guide.

I once read of a pastor who made the commitment to spend several days out of every month with his parishioners at their workplaces. He made it his habit to arrange visits to their factories and offices, their stores and schools. He had a specific purpose in mind and one he believed would make him a more effective pastor: He wanted to understand their day-to-day lives so that in his preaching and counseling he could make application that would speak to their circumstances. He acknowledged that the life of a pastor is very different from the life of a student, a laborer, a CEO, or a store clerk. He acknowledged that unless he was aware of how their lives differed from his own, he could easily assume too much and understand too little.
This pastor discerned that one of the challenges of being a pastor—and particularly one who is paid to minister on a full-time basis—is to continue to have a realistic assessment of how the world works “out there.” It’s to acknowledge that much of what troubles an employee in the workforce does not trouble a pastor in his church (and vice versa). It’s to acknowledge that many of the factors that may enhance a pastor’s reputation may diminish a non-pastor’s (and, again, vice versa). The very things that can gain acclaim for a pastor and even fill the pews of his church may gain a warning for a non-pastor and even get him fired. (This is very much on my mind because, as a full-time writer who pastors on a part-time basis, I am also largely outside the workaday world and, therefore, in a similar position to this pastor.)
One of the women who attends his church works in an office setting. She is told she needs to take a course that will address matters of diversity, equity, and inclusion. At the end she is expected to write a pledge that will address her responsibility for the past marginalization and future empowerment of “sexual minorities.” What is she supposed to do in the face of this mandatory exercise? What counsel has she received from the pastor’s teaching and preaching ministry that can guide her right here and right now?
One of the teens in that congregation—a young woman who was brought to the church by a friend and who has just recently professed faith—has a part-time job at a restaurant. As she walks through the doors one morning her supervisor presses a rainbow bracelet into her hand. All around her the other service staff have slipped those bracelets onto their wrists. What is she to do? What guidance has the pastor provided that will meet her in this moment?
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True Christianity offers you something different than the world does, but true Christianity will cost you. And there will be consequences. What you saw from most of the professing church was a fearful and cowardly display of the fear of man and the love of this world. 

DC Talk’s 1995 hit “What If I Stumble?” starts with someone reading these lines: “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” Like it or not, true Christians have to deal with the consequences of the professing church. Many unbelievers look at the professing church’s lack of faithfulness and conclude that such is what true Christianity is.
As such, for many a true follower of Jesus, the response of the professing evangelical and even Reformed church during the coronavirus has been one of the most discouraging and disheartening parts of this whole year. Dealing with government overreach, media-induced fear, and hysteria without end would have been bad enough. But the one place where Christians should have been able to find refuge was in the church. There, believers should have found a different spirit—a spirit of faith and trust and courage. A spirit of freedom and peace. Believers should have been able to point to the church—the called out ones—and said to a watching world, “Behold, there is something otherworldly, something different from the world.” Sadly, that wasn’t the case for most churches. Uncertainty, fear, cancellations of fellowship, mask requirements, and social distance regulations thrived in the church just as much as in the world.
I’ve entitled this “A COVID Apology to America, on Behalf of the Evangelical Church.” This is what I believe the professing evangelical and Reformed church should say to America. And, of course, she should not only say it, but change course accordingly.
The Apology (7 parts):
America, we’re sorry. We had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to show you how different Christianity is from the world. And we failed.
Years ago, Leonard Ravenhill said, “The world out there is not waiting for a new definition of Christianity; it’s waiting for a new demonstration of Christianity.” The COVID debacle of 2020-2021 was the perfect opportunity for us to give you that new demonstration of Christianity. We could have shown you what it means to live a life free from fear. We could have shown you what it means to value spiritual things more than material things. We could have shown you that Christians are different. Instead, most evangelical churches acted just like the world. Our profession of faith made little difference in our lives. Our churches closed their doors just like the Lion’s Club and community BINGO night. It’s too late for us now to change how we responded. But the least we can do is say that we’re sorry.
We’re sorry we contradicted so much of what we had told you previously.
Prior to the coronavirus, we told you that it was vital for Christians to gather together and fellowship. We preached about passages such as Hebrews 10:25: “not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” We told you about Christians throughout church history who were willing to meet despite the dangers of persecution, oppression, and even death. We held these men and women up as examples of faithfulness. And then, when the coronavirus struck us, we scattered like sheep without a shepherd. Forgive us.
Prior to the coronavirus we told you that living for Christ was worth more than anything this world could offer, including safety, health, and prosperity. We told you about Christians—going all the way back to the apostles—who truly understood the gospel and were willing to give up everything to follow Jesus. We told you about the missionaries and housewives, preachers and plowboys, who were willing to die if they could only read the Scripture. We told you that obedience to Christ was not an optional part of discipleship, but the very essence of following Jesus. And then, when it was going to cost us something to stand for Jesus and stand against the world, we crumbled like a house of cards. Forgive us.
We’re sorry we perverted the glorious and beautiful blessing of Christian fellowship.
We neglected fellowship. For some of us, it didn’t even take one week for us to cancel fellowship. We dressed it up with a lot of explanations and qualifications, but the bottom line is that we told everyone to stop meeting together as a church body. We did not accurately demonstrate the doctrine of Christian fellowship. We made Christianity to look no different than a social club or sports league, willing to cancel gatherings on the word of a pagan tyrant.
But even worse than abandoning Christian fellowship, we perverted fellowship. We encouraged you to think that Christians view “online” events as gatherings, fellowship, or services. This is all a gross perversion of what God intended for the church. We know that none of these things are fellowship, but we continued to act as if they were. To our shame, when we finally found some courage to meet (or, if we’re honest, when the state allowed us to meet), we continued to enforce mask and distancing mandates. We showed that we really don’t care if true fellowship occurs—where believers can interact with one another, see each other’s faces, and act as family—we really only cared about continuing to present a façade of Christianity. We did have good motives and intentions. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Truth be told, we caved to the pressure. Our actions are a stain upon the true church’s testimony concerning the doctrine of Christian fellowship.
We’re sorry we conformed to the world.
Christians are supposed to look different from the world. The fear that characterizes so much of our world, amplified to the extreme during the coronavirus, is unbecoming for a true Christian church. We know that we have been charged to not be conformed to this world (or “age,” see Romans 12:2). However, we found the temptation too strong and the potential cost too high for us to have our minds transformed during the coronavirus. Instead of standing as a city upon a hill as a light for a lost, confused, and scared world, we acted just like everyone else. Just like the pagans in the plagues of the second and third century, we encouraged you to stay away from others.
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