Reading Old Testament History as Gospel-Shaped Canon

An Expedition44 Review of Ian J. Vaillancourt’s Unfolding Redemption

Ian J. Vaillancourt’s Unfolding Redemption: The Heart of the Gospel in the Story of Old Testament History enters a crowded but deeply necessary field of contemporary biblical theology. In recent decades, evangelical scholarship has produced a significant body of work aimed at recovering the theological coherence of Scripture, particularly through the lenses of canon, covenant, kingdom, temple, exile, promise, and fulfillment. One thinks here of Stephen Dempster’s Dominion and Dynasty, G. K. Beale’s work on temple and new creation, T. Desmond Alexander’s Eden-to-new-creation trajectories, and Graeme Goldsworthy’s redemptive-historical hermeneutic. Vaillancourt’s contribution should be located within this broader renewal of biblical theology, but it should not be dismissed as merely derivative. Its particular value lies in the way it offers a readable, pastorally attentive, and canonically alert account of the Old Testament Historical Books as a continuing redemption story that begins in the Pentateuch, moves through land, judges, kingship, temple, exile, return, and hope, and ultimately presses the reader toward Jesus Christ.¹

The introduction establishes the hermeneutical agenda with unusual clarity. Vaillancourt begins not with an abstract theory of canon but with Jesus’ claim in John 5:39–40 that the Scriptures bear witness about him. His point is not that the Old Testament may occasionally be mined for messianic prooftexts, but that the failure to read the Scriptures as testimony to Christ constitutes a fundamental misreading of Scripture itself. This is a crucial claim because it refuses two common errors. On the one hand, it resists the modern tendency to neglect the Old Testament because its narratives, genealogies, cultic structures, geographical allotments, and violent episodes feel distant from Christian discipleship. On the other hand, it also resists a flat moralizing approach that reads Old Testament figures primarily as exemplary or cautionary characters without situating them in the larger redemptive movement of Scripture. Vaillancourt’s interpretive burden is therefore not simply to make the Old Testament “interesting,” but to recover its witness-bearing function within the economy of redemption.²

One of the more academically significant features of the book is its sustained attention to the order of the Hebrew canon. Vaillancourt argues that readers shaped by the English ordering of the Old Testament often encounter the Historical Books as a relatively straightforward chronological sequence, followed by poetic and prophetic materials. Yet the earliest attested Hebrew order presents the Scriptures according to Torah, Prophets, and Writings, with Chronicles functioning as the canonical conclusion.³ This is not a mere technicality. The canonical placement of Ruth, Psalms, Daniel, Ezra-Nehemiah, and Chronicles affects how the reader experiences the theological movement of the Old Testament. Vaillancourt is careful not to overstate the case, but he rightly observes that Jesus’ reference to “the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms” in Luke 24:44 suggests a threefold understanding of the Scriptures, with “Psalms” likely functioning as a representative title for the Writings.⁴ He further appeals to Matthew 23:35, where Jesus refers to the blood of Abel and Zechariah, a statement that appears to assume a canonical frame beginning with Genesis and ending with Chronicles.⁵ This argument places Vaillancourt in conversation with a significant stream of canonical scholarship, especially the work of Roger Beckwith, Stephen Dempster, and those who have argued that the shape of the canon participates in the theological meaning of the canon.

The canonical discussion is not merely academic scaffolding; it shapes the book’s theological argument. Vaillancourt contends that the Old Testament story beyond the Pentateuch is “out of order” in two senses. First, it is out of order because Israel’s story does not move in a simple upward trajectory from redemption to consummation. The narrative proceeds through divine faithfulness and human failure, blessing and curse, covenant renewal and covenant betrayal, return and incompletion. Second, the story is out of order because the English Bible’s arrangement does not always foreground the thematic and canonical movements that become clearer when read according to the Hebrew order.⁶ This framing is particularly fruitful because it allows Vaillancourt to present the Historical Books not merely as historical reportage but as theologically selective narration. The Old Testament writers are not antiquarian chroniclers preserving every event for its own sake; they are Spirit-inspired witnesses who shape historical memory around YHWH’s unfolding redemption.⁷

Vaillancourt’s use of Deuteronomy 28 and 30 as a controlling lens is one of the most persuasive elements of the volume. The blessings for covenant fidelity, curses for covenant rebellion, exile for covenant breach, and restoration for covenant repentance provide a theological grammar for reading Joshua through Chronicles. The land in Joshua, the deliverers in Judges, Davidic kingship in Samuel, temple centrality in Kings and Chronicles, exile, and return are all interpreted within this Deuteronomic horizon.⁸ This is precisely where the book exhibits strong Old Testament instincts. Rather than forcing a Christological reading upon the narrative from the outside, Vaillancourt shows how the internal covenantal logic of the Old Testament generates its own forward movement. The story itself creates longing because the blessings are real but unstable, the land is given but contested, the kingship is established but compromised, the temple is glorious but vulnerable, and the return from exile is genuinely merciful but still incomplete.

The first chapter, “Land: Settling the Redeemed,” demonstrates this method well. Vaillancourt does not evade the difficulty of Joshua. He acknowledges that modern readers may struggle with narratives of holy war, the eradication language of the conquest, and the apparently tedious geographical material that dominates the latter portion of the book.⁹ Yet rather than reducing Joshua to a problem of violence or to a triumphalist conquest narrative, he places land within the broader redemptive architecture of Scripture. Land is not merely real estate; it is the appointed place where the redeemed people of God are to dwell with YHWH, embody covenant fidelity, and anticipate the larger creational purposes of God. This allows Vaillancourt to connect Joshua’s land theology to the larger biblical movement toward inheritance, resurrection, and new creation. His claim that the land promise ultimately opens toward an embodied, global, eschatological inheritance is especially important, since it resists both a purely spiritualized reading of land and a narrowly territorial one.¹⁰

The chapter on Judges further shows Vaillancourt’s ability to make difficult Old Testament material theologically coherent without domesticating its darkness. His opening analogy of cancer is pastorally accessible, but the larger exegetical point is serious: sin among the redeemed is not static. If left untreated, it spreads through the covenant community with destructive force.¹¹ Judges begins with partial success but quickly reveals the deeper covenantal crisis, particularly when a generation arises that does not know YHWH or the works he had done for Israel.¹² Vaillancourt’s diagnosis here is important for contemporary ecclesiology. The failure in Judges is not simply military incompletion; it is failed covenant transmission. Israel does not merely fail to remove enemies from the land; Israel fails to form a people who remember, teach, obey, and worship. This is one of the places where the book’s pastoral usefulness becomes especially apparent. Vaillancourt is not merely helping readers understand Judges historically; he is helping the church recognize the formational danger of generational amnesia.

The treatment of monarchy and temple likewise reflects a mature canonical instinct. In the chapter on division, decline, and exile, Vaillancourt reads the books of Kings through the Deuteronomic lens of covenant blessing and curse, with kingship functioning as a corporate headship over YHWH’s redeemed people.¹³ The strength of this reading is that it avoids treating Israel’s monarchy as merely political history. Kingship is theological representation. A faithful king may lead the people toward covenant life, while an unfaithful king accelerates covenant disaster. This allows Vaillancourt to present David not as morally flawless but as covenantally paradigmatic because of humility and repentance.¹⁴ Solomon, by contrast, embodies both the glory and fragility of Israel’s hopes. The temple’s construction represents one of the great high points of the Old Testament story, with YHWH’s dwelling among his people moving from tent to temple.¹⁵ Yet even this apex is unstable because covenant disobedience will eventually fracture the kingdom, corrupt worship, and bring exile. In this sense, Vaillancourt’s temple theology resonates with the broader work of Beale and Alexander, though his presentation remains more introductory and pastoral than technical.

The Chronicles material is among the strongest portions of the book and deserves particular attention. Vaillancourt rightly emphasizes that Chronicles, read at the end of the Hebrew canon, functions as a hope-filled theological summation of the Old Testament story. Its genealogies are not dead archival lists but acts of covenantal memory. Beginning with Adam, Chronicles frames Israel’s story within the whole human story, and by moving toward David and the Davidic line it reassures the postexilic community that the promises of God remain alive.¹⁶ Vaillancourt’s use of Todd Bolen, Paul House, Stephen Dempster, Bruce Waltke, Charles Yu, Andreas Köstenberger, and Gregory Goswell demonstrates that he is not working in isolation but synthesizing a recognizable scholarly consensus regarding Chronicles’ theological selectivity and Davidic hope.¹⁷ His reading of the Chronicler’s omission of many of David’s sins is especially measured. Rather than accusing the Chronicler of whitewashing David, Vaillancourt follows Bolen in understanding the omission as a matter of theological emphasis. Chronicles is not denying David’s failures; it is emphasizing the covenant promises attached to David and the hope those promises generated for a restored people.¹⁸

Vaillancourt’s treatment of Ezra-Nehemiah is similarly valuable because he refuses to let the return from exile become the full resolution of the Old Testament story. The decree of Cyrus is glorious, and Vaillancourt rightly attends to the surprising theological language surrounding this Persian king. Cyrus is stirred by YHWH, commissioned to rebuild the house of God, described in Isaiah as YHWH’s shepherd, and even called YHWH’s anointed.¹⁹ This is an important observation because it reveals the wideness of divine sovereignty. YHWH’s redemptive purposes are not confined to Israelite agency. He may use a Persian ruler as an instrument of covenant restoration. Yet Vaillancourt also rightly insists that the return is only “partly accomplished” redemption.²⁰ The people return, the temple is rebuilt, and covenant mercies are evident, but the fullness remains absent. There is still a lingering ache in the story. This is one of the book’s most important theological instincts: biblical hope is not satisfied by partial restoration. It waits for the ultimate redemption that only Christ can accomplish.

The consistent strength of Unfolding Redemption is its ability to read the Old Testament as both historically particular and canonically forward-moving. Vaillancourt does not flatten Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings, Ruth, Daniel, Esther, Ezra-Nehemiah, and Chronicles into generic “Jesus stories.” Nor does he leave them as isolated historical episodes. Instead, he reads them as discrete textual witnesses within a unified redemptive drama. This is precisely the kind of work needed in the church today. Many readers either avoid the Old Testament because they find it morally troubling or devotionally inaccessible, or they rush too quickly to Christ in a way that bypasses the texture of Israel’s own story. Vaillancourt offers a better way. He allows land, kingship, temple, exile, and return to speak in their own Old Testament grammar, while still showing how that grammar becomes ultimately intelligible in Christ.

At the same time, the academic reader may wish for deeper engagement at several points. The book’s strength is also its limitation: it is a synthetic, accessible biblical theology rather than a technical monograph. There is little sustained engagement with Ancient Near Eastern backgrounds, the compositional history of the Historical Books, the complexities of conquest rhetoric, or Second Temple Jewish reception. Readers looking for the kind of thick historical and literary analysis found in Eerdmans, Baker Academic, or IVP monographs may need to supplement Vaillancourt with more specialized works. Yet this should not be mistaken for a failure of the book. The genre is different. Vaillancourt is not writing a critical introduction to the Historical Books; he is writing a canonically ordered, Christ-centered, pastorally useful guide to the redemptive movement of Old Testament history.

The book’s accessibility is also worth noting. Vaillancourt writes in a clear style, often opening chapters with contemporary illustrations before moving into textual exposition. In some academic settings this may feel lighter than the subject matter deserves, but for the intended readership the strategy is effective. He is attempting to bring non-specialists into serious biblical theology without overwhelming them at the doorway. This makes the book especially useful for pastors, Bible teachers, seminary students beginning their Old Testament studies, and thoughtful lay readers who need help seeing why these texts matter for Christian faith. As an Old Testament person, I find this pedagogical instinct commendable. The church does not need fewer technical studies, but neither does it need biblical theology trapped behind academic walls. Vaillancourt succeeds in translating substantial canonical-theological insights into a form that can nourish the life of the church.


Unfolding Redemption arrives at an important moment in contemporary biblical studies and church life. While scholarly interest in biblical theology continues to grow, many pastors and lay readers still struggle to connect the Old Testament’s historical narratives to the gospel they proclaim and cherish. Vaillancourt serves as a capable guide through this terrain, helping readers see that Israel’s story is neither a collection of disconnected episodes nor merely the backdrop to the New Testament, but an indispensable part of God’s unified redemptive drama.

The book’s greatest strength is its ability to bring together canonical sensitivity, theological depth, and pastoral accessibility. By tracing the themes of land, kingship, temple, exile, restoration, and hope through the Historical Books, Vaillancourt demonstrates how the Old Testament itself creates anticipation for the coming Messiah. In doing so, he helps readers recover a richer appreciation for the continuity of Scripture and the faithfulness of God throughout redemptive history.

Scholars will recognize the volume’s indebtedness to important conversations surrounding biblical theology, canonical interpretation, and the shape of the Hebrew Bible. Pastors and teachers will appreciate its usefulness for preaching and discipleship. Most importantly, ordinary readers will find themselves drawn back into portions of the Old Testament that are too often neglected or misunderstood.

Few books manage to be academically responsible, pastorally useful, and genuinely enjoyable to read. Vaillancourt has accomplished all three. For those seeking a clearer understanding of how the story of Israel unfolds toward Christ and ultimately finds its fulfillment in him, Unfolding Redemption is a significant contribution and a highly recommended resource. It is the kind of biblical theology that not only informs the mind but also deepens one’s love for the God who has been faithfully unfolding his redemptive purposes from Genesis to Revelation.

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Unfolding Redemption – InterVarsity Press

Endnotes

  1. Ian J. Vaillancourt, Unfolding Redemption: The Heart of the Gospel in the Story of Old Testament History (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2025), 2. For comparable biblical-theological projects, see Stephen G. Dempster, Dominion and Dynasty: A Theology of the Hebrew Bible, New Studies in Biblical Theology 15 (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2003); G. K. Beale, The Temple and the Church’s Mission: A Biblical Theology of the Dwelling Place of God, New Studies in Biblical Theology 17 (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004); T. Desmond Alexander, From Eden to the New Jerusalem: An Introduction to Biblical Theology (Grand Rapids: Kregel Academic, 2008); Graeme Goldsworthy, According to Plan: The Unfolding Revelation of God in the Bible (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2002).
  2. Vaillancourt, Unfolding Redemption, 1–2.
  3. Ibid., 9.
  4. Ibid., 10–11.
  5. Ibid., 12.
  6. Ibid., 7.
  7. Ibid., 8.
  8. Ibid., 6.
  9. Ibid., 18.
  10. Ibid., 35.
  11. Ibid., 37.
  12. Ibid., 38.
  13. Ibid., 87.
  14. Ibid.
  15. Ibid., 88.
  16. Ibid., 151–54.
  17. Todd Bolen, “1–2 Chronicles,” in What the Old Testament Authors Really Cared About: A Survey of Jesus’ Bible, ed. Jason S. DeRouchie (Grand Rapids: Kregel Academic, 2013), 448; Paul R. House, Old Testament Theology (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1998), 524–25; Stephen G. Dempster, Dominion and Dynasty, 226; Andreas J. Köstenberger and Gregory Goswell, Biblical Theology: A Canonical, Thematic, and Ethical Approach (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2023), 329.
  18. Vaillancourt, Unfolding Redemption, 155.
  19. Ibid., 134–35.
  20. Ibid., 133.
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The Message, The Method, and The Messenger

Few practices have shaped the life of the Church more profoundly than preaching. From the public reading of Torah in ancient Israel to the apostolic proclamation of the Gospel throughout the Roman world, the people of God have always been formed by the spoken Word. Yet despite its centrality, preaching often suffers from a crisis of identity. In some contexts, it has been reduced to theological information transfer. In others, it has become motivational speaking wrapped in biblical language. Still elsewhere, preaching is treated primarily as a platform for personality, charisma, or cultural commentary. The result is that many aspiring preachers learn how to construct sermons before they ever wrestle with the deeper theological question of what preaching actually is or the faithful understanding of the text itself. A biblical theology of proclamation requires a more foundational approach. Before discussing outlines, illustrations, delivery techniques, or sermon structure, one must first ask what the preacher has been entrusted to proclaim. The recovery of faithful homiletics begins not with technique but with theology. It begins with understanding the relationship between the message, the method, and the messenger.

Biblical proclamation begins with the conviction that God speaks. This seemingly simple assertion stands beneath the entire biblical narrative. Scripture is not merely a record of religious experiences or theological reflections; it is the testimony of a God who reveals Himself, enters covenant, and addresses His people. The authority of preaching, therefore, does not derive from the giftedness of the preacher, the expectations of the congregation, or the cultural relevance of the sermon. It derives from the God who has spoken and continues to speak through Scripture by the Holy Spirit.¹

This understanding distinguishes biblical preaching from virtually every other form of communication. The preacher does not stand before the congregation primarily as a lecturer, motivational speaker, storyteller, or religious commentator. Rather, the preacher stands as a steward under authority. The task is not to create a message but to faithfully proclaim a message already given. As Paul exhorts Timothy, the charge is remarkably simple and yet profoundly demanding: “Preach the Word” (2 Tim. 4:2).²

This reality places significant constraints upon the preacher. The sermon cannot be governed primarily by personal preference, cultural trends, political ideology, or popular opinion. Scripture itself must govern the sermon. The preacher is called to submit to the text before proclaiming the text. As Haddon Robinson famously observed, biblical preaching derives both its substance and authority from Scripture rather than from the ingenuity of the communicator.³ For this reason, faithful proclamation requires more than isolated proof texts or devotional reflections. It demands serious engagement with authorial intent, literary structure, historical setting, canonical context, and theological meaning. The biblical text must be allowed to speak on its own terms before it can be applied to contemporary hearers.⁴

One of the persistent temptations within theological education is to confuse explanation with proclamation. Exegesis is indispensable. Careful interpretation matters. Historical and literary context matter. Yet a sermon is not complete simply because a passage has been explained correctly. Throughout Scripture, proclamation consistently presses toward transformation. The reading of Torah under Ezra in Nehemiah 8 did not merely increase knowledge; it produced conviction, worship, repentance, and renewed covenant identity. The preaching ministry of Jesus consistently called for response. The sermons of Acts repeatedly moved listeners toward repentance, faith, obedience, and participation in the life of the Kingdom. Biblical proclamation aims not merely at understanding but at formation.⁵

This movement might be summarized as:

Text → Meaning → Theology → Proclamation → Transformation

Each movement matters. A sermon that skips theological reflection often becomes shallow moralism. A sermon that neglects application becomes an academic lecture. A sermon that focuses exclusively on application without careful interpretation often descends into subjective spirituality detached from the text. Faithful preaching requires movement through each stage in order that hearers may encounter not merely biblical information but the living God who addresses them through Scripture.⁶ This transformational emphasis also explains why preaching cannot be reduced to intellectual persuasion alone. Paul reminds the Corinthians that his proclamation did not rest merely upon “plausible words of wisdom” but upon a demonstration of the Spirit’s power (1 Cor. 2:4). Biblical preaching occupies a unique space where careful study and spiritual dependence converge. The preacher labors diligently with the text while simultaneously depending upon the Holy Spirit to illuminate, convict, heal, and transform.

If the message concerns what is proclaimed, the method concerns how the preacher moves responsibly from text to sermon. Throughout church history, faithful preachers have recognized that Spirit-led proclamation does not eliminate the need for disciplined preparation. Rather, preparation becomes an act of stewardship. The false dichotomy between study and Spirit remains one of the most damaging assumptions in modern preaching culture. Some preachers lean so heavily upon spontaneity that careful exegesis is neglected. Others become so consumed with academic precision that little room remains for pastoral warmth, spiritual discernment, or Spirit-sensitive application. Scripture consistently calls for both discipline and dependence.⁷

A responsible homiletical method begins with observation. Before asking what a text means, the preacher must first learn to see what is actually present within the text itself. Repeated themes, literary structures, key words, narrative movements, and theological tensions all deserve careful attention. Interpretation then seeks to understand the meaning of those observations within their historical, literary, and canonical contexts. Only after this work has been completed can the preacher move toward theological reflection and contemporary application.⁸ This process is particularly important because the Bible contains multiple literary genres, each requiring distinct interpretive sensitivities. Narrative texts function differently than prophetic oracles. Wisdom literature communicates differently than apocalyptic visions. Epistles differ from psalms. Failure to recognize these distinctions often results in misapplication or theological distortion.⁹

Equally important is the identification of the central burden of the text. Every faithful sermon should emerge from the primary theological claim of the passage rather than from a collection of disconnected observations. Bryan Chapell refers to this as the “fallen condition focus,” while Robinson describes it as the “big idea” of the sermon.¹⁰ Whatever terminology one adopts, the principle remains the same: a sermon should move coherently from the text’s central claim toward the response God seeks from His people. The goal of method, therefore, is not to create rigid formulas but to provide a faithful pathway from biblical text to pastoral proclamation.

Perhaps the most neglected dimension of homiletics in contemporary ministry is the formation of the messenger. Modern conversations about preaching often focus almost exclusively upon content or communication techniques. Yet Scripture repeatedly emphasizes that proclamation flows through a person whose life either reinforces or undermines the message being proclaimed.

The New Testament consistently holds life and doctrine together. Paul instructs Timothy to “watch your life and doctrine closely” (1 Tim. 4:16). Peter exhorts elders to shepherd willingly and honorably (1 Pet. 5:1–4). James warns that teachers will be judged more strictly (Jas. 3:1). These passages reveal a sobering truth: the preacher cannot be separated from the proclamation.¹¹ This does not mean that preachers must achieve perfection before they are qualified to speak. Scripture itself presents deeply flawed leaders such as Moses, David, Peter, and Paul. Yet it does mean that character formation matters. Holiness matters. Humility matters. Integrity matters. Emotional health matters. The messenger does not create the authority of the message, but the messenger can certainly obscure it.

In many respects, contemporary ministry culture often rewards giftedness more quickly than character. Charisma can attract attention. Communication skills can generate influence. Yet Scripture consistently prioritizes faithfulness over platform. The greatest dangers facing preachers are not merely theological error but pride, hypocrisy, manipulation, performance identity, and the temptation to use ministry for self-exaltation rather than service.¹² This is why spiritual formation must remain central to homiletical training. Prayer is not a supplement to sermon preparation; it is part of sermon preparation. Dependence upon the Holy Spirit is not an optional charismatic addition to preaching; it belongs to the very nature of biblical proclamation. The preacher is called not merely to explain the Word but to embody its transforming power through a life increasingly conformed to Christ.

The healthiest vision of preaching emerges when the message, the method, and the messenger remain properly integrated. When the message is emphasized without attention to method, sermons often become disorganized or inaccessible. When method is emphasized without theological depth, preaching becomes technique-driven. When both message and method are present without spiritual formation, preaching risks becoming professionally competent yet spiritually hollow.

The biblical vision is far richer.

The message must remain governed by Scripture and centered upon Christ. The method must move responsibly from text to proclamation through careful interpretation and pastoral application. The messenger must continually submit to the transforming work of the Holy Spirit so that life and doctrine remain joined together. Only when these three dimensions converge does preaching become what it was always intended to be: a sacred act of stewardship through which God addresses His people, forms disciples, builds His Church, and advances His Kingdom.

One additional practice that deserves far more attention in modern preaching is the role of community in sermon formation. While the final responsibility of proclamation rests with the preacher, the healthiest sermons are often shaped long before the preacher steps into the pulpit. Too many ministers prepare in isolation when God has already surrounded them with gifted people within the Body of Christ. Pastors, elders, teachers, musicians, creatives, counselors, intercessors, and ministry leaders each bring unique perspectives that can enrich the development of a message.

In many ministry contexts, sermon preparation benefits from functioning more like a think tank than a solitary exercise. Weeks before a message is delivered, trusted voices can help identify theological tensions, pastoral concerns, cultural blind spots, practical applications, and potential red flags. Others may contribute research, historical insights, illustrations, testimonies, or ministry implications that the primary communicator might otherwise overlook. Worship leaders often help identify themes that can be reinforced through music. Creative teams can envision visual elements and storytelling opportunities. Pastoral teams can anticipate how different groups within the congregation may hear and respond to the message. This collaborative process not only strengthens the sermon itself but also creates greater unity across the ministries of the church.

Such collaboration reflects a deeply biblical vision of the Church. Paul reminds us that the Body consists of many members, each contributing distinct gifts for the common good. The preacher remains responsible for stewarding the final message, yet wisdom often emerges through the collective discernment of Spirit-filled believers working together. In this sense, sermon preparation becomes an act of communal discipleship rather than merely an individual task.

When practiced intentionally, this process also allows church leaders to think beyond a single sermon and toward the larger formation of the congregation. Through thoughtful planning, scope and sequence, sermon series development, and long-range discipleship goals, leaders can begin to map how individual messages contribute to the overall spiritual development of the church. Rather than treating each sermon as an isolated event, preaching becomes part of a larger strategy of Kingdom formation, helping people move steadily toward maturity in Christ. In many ways, the most effective preaching ministries are not built on great sermons alone, but on communities of leaders prayerfully discerning together what God is saying to His people and how best to shepherd them toward faithful obedience.

At the end of the day, homiletics is not ultimately about sermons. It is about people.

It is about men and women made in the image of God who are longing for hope, truth, healing, direction, reconciliation, purpose, and life. It is about weary souls carrying burdens they cannot articulate, families navigating hardship, prodigals searching for home, disciples seeking maturity, and communities longing to encounter the living Christ. Every week, those people gather before the people entrusted with the ministry of proclamation, and the question remains: will they merely hear a speech, or will they encounter the Word of God? That is the sacred privilege and responsibility of the preacher.

The calling to preach has never been about building platforms, gathering followers, crafting polished presentations, or becoming a religious personality. The preacher is first and foremost a steward. We are entrusted with something that does not belong to us. The message is His. The people are His. The Church is His. The Kingdom is His. Our task is simply to handle the Word faithfully, proclaim it courageously, embody it authentically, and leave the results in the hands of the Holy Spirit.

This is why the message matters. This is why the method matters. This is why the messenger matters.

The message must remain anchored in Scripture because people need more than our opinions. They need a Word from God. The method matters because faithful stewardship requires diligence, discipline, and careful handling of the text. The messenger matters because people are not merely listening to what we say; they are observing the life through which the message is being delivered. Long after many sermons are forgotten, people will often remember whether they encountered a humble servant of Christ whose life reflected the Gospel being proclaimed. For those called to preach, teach, shepherd, disciple, and lead, the challenge is not simply to become better communicators. The challenge is to become people who dwell deeply with Christ. Fruitfulness in ministry has always flowed from abiding before it flows from activity. Before Jesus sent His disciples into the world, He first called them to be with Him. Before there was proclamation, there was formation. Before there was ministry, there was relationship.

The Church does not ultimately need more celebrities, influencers, performers, or experts. The Church needs faithful servants who know the Scriptures, hear the voice of the Spirit, love people deeply, and are willing to spend their lives helping others follow Jesus. It needs shepherds who can handle truth with conviction and people with tenderness. It needs proclaimers who can move responsibly from text to transformation and who understand that every sermon is an opportunity to participate in God’s ongoing work of redemption. If God has entrusted you with this calling, receive it with humility, but also with confidence. The same Spirit who inspired the Word still empowers its proclamation. The same Christ who commissioned His disciples still builds His Church. The same God who called prophets, apostles, pastors, teachers, and evangelists continues to raise up laborers for His harvest field.

So study diligently. Pray fervently. Shepherd faithfully. Preach courageously. Love deeply. Remain teachable. Stay near to Christ. And never forget that the goal is not simply to preach sermons, but to make disciples who embody the life and mission of the Kingdom.

May your message be biblical. May your method be faithful. May your life reflect the Gospel you proclaim.

And may the Lord use your words, your witness, and your obedience to bear much fruit for the glory of Christ and the advancement of His Kingdom.

Written with Dr. Steve Cassell


Endnotes

  1. John Stott, Between Two Worlds (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 89.
  2. Thomas G. Long, The Witness of Preaching, 3rd ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2016), 13.
  3. Haddon W. Robinson, Biblical Preaching, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 21.
  4. Grant R. Osborne, The Hermeneutical Spiral, 2nd ed. (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2006), 27.
  5. Sidney Greidanus, The Modern Preacher and the Ancient Text (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 11.
  6. Bryan Chapell, Christ-Centered Preaching, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018), 43.
  7. D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Preaching and Preachers (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1971), 95.
  8. Gordon D. Fee and Douglas Stuart, How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth, 4th ed. (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2014), 31.
  9. Craig G. Bartholomew and Michael W. Goheen, The Drama of Scripture, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 19.
  10. Robinson, Biblical Preaching, 35; Chapell, Christ-Centered Preaching, 51.
  11. Timothy Keller, Preaching: Communicating Faith in an Age of Skepticism (New York: Viking, 2015), 293.
  12. Eugene H. Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989), 7.