When I was growing up my family attended Southern Baptist
Churches. Many services ended with that hushed atmosphere. The piano would play
one of great hymns such as “Just as I am” or “There is Power in the
Blood.” We would all bow our heads and
listen attentively as the preacher urged, exhorted, pleaded with those who were
lost or backslidden to come forward. As a kid, I always hoped someone would go
forward quickly so the preacher would stop. If no one went forward he would
keep on and on. In my Christian psyche
these altar calls hold great power and call me back to different time in my
life.
The
years went by and eventually I became a pastor at a Baptist church. There I
read up on the idea of the altar call, where it came from, and why it was done.
After some research, I decided not to do altar calls at my church. There were
some who opposed my decision, but I think most were secretly grateful.
Now I
am a pastor at a liturgical, reformed, presbyterian church. I don’t do altar
calls, at least not how the ministers of my youth did them. But I do call upon
men to follow Christ and trust in him as any good preacher should.
And I call them to this every week. When? At the Lord’s Supper.
One of
the great reasons to have the Lord’s Supper every week is it provides a natural
and Biblical (unlike the altar call) way for a minister to exhort his flock to
renew their trust in Christ and to remind them of Christ’s gracious
redemption for them upon the cross. This past Sunday I saw this very clearly in
the way the sermon and the Lord’s Supper tied together.
My
sermon ended with an imperative, a command.
I was urging my congregation to consider their loyalty to Christ. I
called upon them to examine their lives and see if their professed love for
Jesus matched their actual love for Jesus. I was telling them that the road for
Christians is a hard one that will require daily sacrifice. Were they ready and
willing to take that road? Had they counted the costs? I knew there were sheep who had become
sluggish in their walk with Christ. They needed the cattle prod and my text
provided the opportunity to give it to them. I did not pass it up. Concluding a
sermon in this way can be dangerous. It left out Jesus and the cross. It was
all imperative. No indicative. Tender consciences can be hurt or weakened when
they are not taken to Jesus. But I felt
like that was where the text was taking us. The text was a warning about
sluggishness and not being prepared. Too
often we remove the effectiveness of a text by bringing in what is not there.
There was no cross in the text. (I know some will say, “Find one anyway.” But that is a post for another time.) As the sermon ended the flock was left hanging
and pondering their walk with Christ.
Five
minutes later we came to the Lord’s Table. And though there was no cross in my
text there is always a cross at the table. Before we eat and drink together I give the congregation a brief exhortation that ties together the word, the sermon, with the sacrament, the Lord’s Supper. This week I encouraged the flock to look to Christ
as their provision for the long journey ahead. I reminded them of the call to
discipleship. But then I reminded them that Jesus has provided what we need to
fulfill that call. Each week we go out and fight in the Spirit. We lose some battles. We win
some battles. But each week we come in
here and Jesus feeds us. He nourishes us on his body and blood. We are
refreshed. Our sins are forgiven. We are renewed by his gracious provision at
Calvary. It was the perfect altar call.
Reminding the congregation to look to Christ in faith. I could tell in the eyes of people
that this hit home. Their love for Christ and trust in him was renewed.
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