Every week, someone stumbles into a church building because they saw it from the street, or because one of the members said something three months ago, or because Internet algorithms popped up the name, or because a loved one’s plea finally prevailed. Some come seeking, some come skeptical, some come confused — all come within reach of God’s saving word.

Pastor, I know this can be easy to forget in the press and stress of ministry. I know that, on any given Sunday, a dozen thoughts can dominate your head before this one. I know it can feel untrue in seasons when the fruit seems small and the weeds seem large. So, can I remind you?

Sermons change lives.

Our Lord Jesus’s miracles healed bodies, but it was his sermons that healed souls. By a sermon God cut and then cured three thousand hearts, bringing awakening with a word. By sermons Paul called Jew and Greek, slave and free, to come into the kingdom of God. And by sermons Timothy, Titus, and a thousand other pastors guarded the gospel for the next generation.

In the centuries since, God has used sermons to save and sanctify, to call and commission — rescuing sinners from hazardous paths, sending ordinary saints across oceans, snatching the weak from Satan’s hands, and building such unlikely fellowships that they can boast only in him. Sunday after Sunday, through sermon after sermon, sometimes quietly and sometimes climactically, God brings his purposes to pass.

No, sermons cannot substitute for one-on-one soul care, life-on-life discipleship, or the many one-another commands God gives. They are not the Christian’s only strength. But what life-changing, eternity-shaping, devil-shaming power a sermon can have, even on the most seemingly ordinary Sunday.

Today, I know two families heading toward the mission field because of sermons. I see scores of Christians encouraged, kept, and called to more through sermons. And I can trace the thread of my own spiritual life back to a normal, simple, faithful sermon.

Ordinary Sunday

On April 13, 2008, I entered Mountain View Community Church on accident. Someone had recommended a different church with mountain in the name (a Colorado problem), and I confused the two.

Even apart from this accident, I entered the building a bit lost. Only recently had I started taking Jesus seriously, stirred by the words of a college-campus evangelist, and my head was a mishmash of theological notions. Someone told me I should expect to speak in tongues. Others described true conversion as an outwardly dramatic, swooning affair. I didn’t know what to think.

The gathering was ordinary, so far as I remember. The church may have sung a hymn or two I didn’t know, but otherwise, I was already familiar with something like this service. The pastor preached simply, without any flair. I remember nothing of his sermon except that it came from the Gospel of John.

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