While one preacher might dismiss the original proverbial command as having no bearing upon today, much like a jeweler who sees no function for a gem and leaves it lying in a back storeroom, another preacher is just as guilty because he leaves the stone locked in a showcase, wanting it to be admired but never used. The true beauty of an exquisite jewel is when it is worn in its contemporary setting. Rather than being too careless, some good, God-fearing, Scripture-loving, Bible preachers and teachers are actually guilty of being too restrictive in their application.
One well-known professor from a top-rated evangelical seminary gave a tongue scourging to a student for “spiritualizing” the geographical locations included in the Matthean “Great Commission” passage. The student was accused of making a horrible hermeneutical and applicational error by comparing “Jerusalem” in the text to one’s local geographical area. Like a turtle he pulled back and lost confidence to make any application in his preaching, even obvious ones.
Somewhere in the process of sermonizing the preacher must turn up the heat on the passage and himself and discover the timeless, universal truth that remains. Warren Wiersbe, in his classroom teaching on homiletics, offers the metaphors of a picture, a window, and a mirror. We begin with a text that paints a picture from a time long ago. We can admire the picture, but at that distance we do not necessarily have to interact with it. That is, until we recognize that it is a window to the world right outside our door. Through prayer, study, and meditation we then discover the truth we are viewing is still alive and at work right around us. We find ourselves staring into a window, which, through gazing, actually transforms itself into a mirror.
Safe, ineffective preaching will leave the passage locked up in the beauty of its original setting. Those in the congregation who have an aesthetic appreciation for Bible knowledge might love such sermons. Most, however, will see those sermons as dry and useless.
Consider the plowing ox. What a nice picture the Word paints in Deuteronomy of an ox treading the grain. A paralyzed preacher will turn this passage into an art show, only holding up the beautiful image of God caring about the ox. Apparently Martin Luther did not believe the ox was the only one concerned here. When Martin Luther quoted this verse, he asked the question, "Does God care for oxen?" "No, of course not," he said, "because oxen can't read." It was written for us, not for the oxen.
Think now, can’t you see there is a principle underlying this command? It has to do with God’s tender care for all who serve. You can’t just paint a still picture of a far-off time. Look around. It is more like a window to what is happening around you. Paul, however, also recognized it was like looking in a mirror. He was the ox! And just like the Lord was concerned about any abuse of ox, the Lord was concerned that he, too, would treat and be treated fairly.
For years I described to others the two rooms that I lived in every week as I prepared my sermons. The first room of exegesis was musty and full of books. The lion’s share of my time was spent in that room and the only intention was to understand the passage in its original context. I wouldn’t leave that room until I was satisfied, because once I left, I felt I couldn’t return. I needed to walk out of that room with a crystal clear vision of the original message in its original context.
