When the Word Becomes Flesh

When you stop judging the messenger and start wrestling with the message

The pastor opens his mouth and you become a movie critic of the soul. The voice doesn't convince you, the gestures bother you, the theology seems shallow. Sitting in your pew of judgment, you dissect every word like a spiritual coroner looking for flaws instead of looking for God. "That point isn't developed well. That quote is out of context. I would have preached it differently." But while you're judging the vessel, God is trying to pour living water into your dry soul. While you're evaluating the performance, the Holy Spirit is trying to open doors in your heart that have been locked for years. You came to be fed and you're starving to death because you've turned food into a show to critique.

"For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword" (Hebrews 4:12, NIV)—it doesn't say "God's perfect preaching" or "God's flawless eloquence." THE WORD. That Word that can come from the trembling lips of an inexperienced preacher and shatter the rock of your pride. That Word that can pass through the uncertain voice of someone preaching for the first time and cut to the marrow of your bones. That Word that doesn't need a perfect vessel to be perfect. Jacob wrestled with the angel all night and came out limping but blessed—he wasn't evaluating the angel's wrestling technique, he was fighting for his life with everything he had. That blessing came not because Jacob was a perfect wrestler, but because he refused to let go until he got what he came for.

What would happen if instead of judging the preacher you started wrestling with the Word coming from his mouth? If instead of thinking "this sermon isn't convincing me," you thought "what is God trying to tell me through these imperfect words"? Every sermon you hear is surgical conversation between you and the Eternal. God is using those words as a scalpel to reach the places where you need healing, to touch wounds you've hidden, to open sealed compartments of your heart where you've locked away truths you don't want to face. It doesn't matter if the pastor stammers—it matters if you're letting the Great Physician operate on your soul. It doesn't matter if the theology isn't perfect—it matters if the Truth is reaching you through that human imperfection.

When Jesus spoke to the woman at the well, she didn't evaluate his homiletics or his communication technique. "Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did" (John 4:29, NIV)—she didn't say "come hear a good preacher," she said come see someone who changed my life by talking. God's Word had used the imperfect conversation of a tired stranger to penetrate her heart and transform her eternity. She hadn't gone to the well to receive a sermon—she'd gone to draw water. But when the living Word met her, she stopped thinking about the vessel and started drinking from the source. That day her heart changed not because Jesus was a perfect speaker but because she was willing to let herself be disturbed by what he was saying.

The pastor steps up to the pulpit and you have a choice that will determine the next thirty minutes of your eternity. You can sit like a consumer of religious entertainment evaluating the quality of service received, or you can position yourself for spiritual wrestling with the living Word that God is about to hurl at your soul. You can look for flaws in the human clay or you can look for God in the eternal message. Every verse you hear is a sword God is pointing at your compromises, every sermon point is a punch the Holy Spirit is throwing at your indifference. You're not listening to a theology lecture—you're fighting for your transformation. And in this fight, the winner isn't the one who critiques the preacher best, but the one who lets themselves be wounded deepest by the Word that never returns empty. The question isn't "Is this preacher up to par?" The question is "Am I willing to let God change me through whatever human voice He chooses to use?"

But there's a gesture that reveals everything you really believe...