“We should have the pastor’s wife drop in from the ceiling.”
Every time we planned a large gathering, someone suggested this idea.
Twenty years ago, our organization ran an event where the founding pastor’s wife was suspended by cables attached to the ceiling, “flew” out of the ceiling, and landed on the stage.
I think that particular event had some music, some kind of skits, some giveaways, and a music video created by the media team that featured some of the executive pastors. The grand finale that stuck in everybody’s memory was lowering the founding pastor’s wife from the ceiling onto the stage, probably to say thank you.
That event happened years ago. The most interesting thing is that no one remembers why they did it. What was the point?
We had spent hours planning, rehearsing, and pulling off this event. We risked permanent injury or worse by actually attaching someone to cables high above the floor.
But no one remembered the message.
They just remembered the spectacle.
Adding entertaining elements to the presentation brought a significant “wow” factor but unintentionally distracted everyone from the core message. We invested thousands of dollars into an event and delivered a message no one remembers.
There’s an important principle here for any teacher or speaker. There’s a delicate balance between engagement and retention. Of course, we want to make every single one of our messages or lessons as engaging as possible. But, if the audience can remember every single one of your stories at the end of the presentation but not the core concept you were teaching, you have a problem.
I’ve done a decent amount of speaking over the last several years, and one of the tell-tale signs of investing too much into engagement was when people could remember my stories but not what I was trying to teach them. When people would follow up with me, asking about my stories but not my content, I knew I had made a mistake.
I was thinking about that today when I read 2 Corinthians 4 with my wife. Verses one and two say,
“Therefore, since God in his mercy has given us this new way, we never give up. We reject all shameful deeds and underhanded methods. We don’t try to trick anyone or distort the word of God. We tell the truth before God, and all who are honest know this.”
This is just a short piece of a longer letter written to some of the first people to follow Jesus in what is now modern-day Greece. They had a lot in common with us. Compared to the rest of the world, they were wealthy people. They had most of what they wanted, but they still wanted more. They wanted the newest and greatest things.
And they wanted to be entertained.
They loved big personalities and bigger spectacles. (If you don’t believe me, you can read about it for yourself in 1 and 2 Corinthians. It won’t take you very long to read them both.)
The people’s affinity for entertainment makes these two lines from this letter so interesting. Paul wrote this letter. Paul met Jesus, and his life was never the same. He started doing everything he could to introduce people to Jesus. He wanted everyone to experience the same grace, forgiveness, and meaning that he had.
But he refused to change the message to make it more entertaining.
Paul wrote this entire letter in Greek, and the word he chose that had been translated to “distort” was originally used to describe adding water to wine to save money and ultimately make it less potent. He is refusing to water down the message that Jesus gave him.
His method of introducing people to Jesus was boring.
Rather than speaking, he wrote letters.
Rather than famous speakers, he sent inexperienced young men.
Rather than watering it down, he kept its edge.
I’d like to know if he ever thought about trying to spice things up. I wonder if he ever wrestled with trying to make things more engaging.
I’m glad he didn’t. I’ve been a pastor for several years and noticed that creating big services and events is exciting. It’s fun to do. Getting a good team around a table and planning an engaging experience is exhilarating. However, I’ve noticed that the more you do it, the more you emphasize the method over the message. What you’re going to say becomes way less important than how you’re going to say it. Before long, you’re having a blast planning engaging events and honestly forget why you’re even doing it.
I’m glad Paul never flew Priscilla and Aquilla around the auditorium and landed them on the stage.
So, who cares?
There’s a really important lesson in 2 Corinthians 4: 1–2. Paul is teaching us that the gospel is good enough on its own. The Holy Spirit is constantly moving and working in people’s lives, and God is bringing people to Himself.
Paul wasn’t looking for God. God found him. I think that’s probably one of the reasons that he understood that we do not need to add anything to the message. Adding to the message is fun, and I’m not even totally against it. But when we add to the message, at best, you risk getting cluttered and unclear; at worst, the only thing we attract people to is someone flying in from the ceiling.
God knew all of us before he even created the world. God is Holy, and he desires a relationship with us. Sin has separated us from God, and it seeps into every aspect of our lives. But, even though we are separated from God because of sin, he has pursued us across history. God became a man and dwelt among us, and ultimately gave up his life to pay the penalty for our sins. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we can finally have a restored relationship with God. All you have to do to be restored is believe it.
That’s the message. That simple message still brings new life and meaning to people who desperately need it. I’m glad Paul refused to add to it.
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