Pulpit Safety Belt

The good folks at Emanuel in Dayton got me one of the best graduation gifts imaginable - a pulpit safety belt.  You see, Kevin the klutzy pastoral intern made a definite impression on God's faithful people on internship by falling out of the pulpit on my sixth Sunday.  The best part - I had mentioned, in the sermon, my utter lack of any sort of discernible coordination.  If that is not proof that God has a sense of humor, and that it is a sick one, then I don't know what is.

So, as a little nod to one of my more memorable homiletical acrobatic acts, they presented me with a "pulpit safety belt" in a frame.  It's going to hold a place of honor in my office here; it only seems right that everyone coming into my office be made aware that Pastor Kevin can't be relied on for good bodily coordination.

But, as I think about, there's a lot more to the idea of having a pulpit safety belt that thrills me, inspires me.  I WANT to be the kind of preacher where the safety belts need to be fastened, seats and tray tables in their upright and locked positions.  The Gospel isn't safe; why should its public proclamation be any different?  I want to deliver the goods, so to speak; I want the word of Christ crucified and risen for us to resound not just on Sunday morning, but every day.  I long to see it at work, transforming this sad, broken church/neighborhood/city/state/nation/world/cosmos.  I don't want our - my - public proclamation to be just another limp, impassive, unrelatable bit of bad theological pabulum that in no way, shape, or form speaks good news to our brokenness in the interest of being comfortable, safe, or "relevant."  I find it tremendously ironic that in our effort to be comfortable, safe, and "relevant," the Church usually comforts itself into a stupor, undermines its own security, and ceases to say a single meaningful thing to a world that is hungry for the Gospel.

Of course, I'm also reminded of Paul's words in 1 Corinthians 2, in which he talks about how the success of the Gospel in Corinth had nothing to do with Paul's skillful proclamation, but everything to do with the Spirit acting with power.  Maybe that drive toward stupor-like comfort, false safety, and fake relevance are quelching that Spirit.  Maybe our great failure in the pulpit is in deciding that we know better than God, and that our knowledge tells us to pull our punches rather than confront the world's brokenness that encompasses so much of who and what we are.  Maybe we need to stop playing it so safe to spare folks from the whiplash of the Holy Spirit's moving, active work among us, and instead tell people to buckle up, because God is here, and God isn't driving the speed limit.