SHOWTIME!
by Bill Ireland
This is the fourth installment on the temptation narrative and its implications for ministry.
The 2024 Olympic games will take place in Paris. If previous Olympiads are any guide, the host city will attempt to put on a bigger and better show during the opening ceremonies than previous ones. No expense will be spared to showcase the best of the host city and to dazzle audiences worldwide. Likewise, the 2024 Super Bowl is not far off, and besides the game itself, the halftime show has to outshine previous shows. I’m old enough to remember the first Super Bowl in which there wasn’t a sellout crowd, and the halftime show consisted of a couple of marching bands! Those days are long gone. Instead, spectacle is the name of the game, and the goal is to create a “wow!” factor.
In Jesus’ second encounter with the Adversary, the devil urged Jesus to pursue his ministry by putting on a show. “All you have to do is jump off the Temple. Remember, you’re something special—God’s own son. Nothing will happen to you. Angels will catch you, and the people will be amazed. You’ll get great ratings and a solid following.” The Adversary possessed keen insight into the nature of human beings. We want to be entertained. We want something that will leave us awestruck. It’s much easier to see something than to become something.
Ministers and churches can be seduced by the allure of doing whatever it takes to draw a crowd. We rationalize it by saying our job is to reach people with the gospel, and therefore the end justifies the means. We’ll do whatever it takes to get people in the building. As a result, worship easily turns into an extravaganza. Preaching becomes an exercise in throwing a lot of red meat in front of a ravenous crowd. We give them what they want instead of what they need. Pastors can confuse celebrity and recognition with effective ministry.
I have felt this temptation myself. Once or twice in my career, I’ve been greeted at the back door after worship with this ringing affirmation: “That was the best sermon I’ve ever heard!” Naturally, I’m not going to disagree with them! For the moment, I get a big ego boost and begin thinking of myself, “more highly than I ought to think.” I feel pretty jazzed for the rest of the day. Monday morning, however, confronts me with a hard reality—how do I do that again next Sunday? If I try to top the previous Sunday’s offering, I leave the Spirit out of the equation. Trying to meet such an unrealistic expectation yields frustration and disappointment.
Sadly, this bigger and better approach wears thin. Over time a steady showcase of spectacle delivers diminishing returns. Eventually people get bored and may drift away to the next big thing. In such an environment, it’s easy for us to lose sight of our calling. If the next service and the next sermon has to be better than the last, we spend more energy on production values than proclamation. We trust ourselves more than we trust the Spirit.
Jesus rejected this self-centered approach to ministry. He understood this shortcut wouldn’t work and couldn’t be sustained. Jumping off the temple wouldn’t generate faithful followers who would stick to his way when the lights went down, and trouble came. Although Jesus performed many signs and wonders, he frequently did so in a manner that didn’t draw attention to himself. No one, for example, saw him change water into wine. On numerous occasions, he healed people in private, far away from the glare of the crowd. He recognized that some who followed him only wanted more bread and more miracles and had no interest in his cross.
Our task as ministers is to lead people into life-transforming experiences with the gospel; to become people whose way of living reflects the way of Jesus. This is by far a much more difficult task. Years ago, one of my mentors likened ministry to chipping at a wall with a tiny hammer. By means of this metaphor, he stressed that progress is not always evident. Nevertheless, he insisted if we keep chipping away, one day the wall will fall, and something new can take its place. Jumping off the temple week after week may dazzle, but it can’t produce faithful disciples. Our daily task is to shun the allure of the spotlight and instead take the harder, less spectacular path of giving ourselves away.