I go to a Wednesday morning Bible Study with three long-time pastors even older than I am. If you meet someone who just wrote a book, you will have trouble talking about anything other than the new book. In the same way, any verse we cover might elicit a sermon.

One of the pastors is the founder and leader of the Bible study, and it is right that he is the one talking the most, leading the discussion in the direction he wants it to go. When the other 2 began showing up, though (to my shame) I was a bit frustrated with the sudden small sermons that would burst forth. In the old days–the 1980s–there was a lot of Reformation tradition deeply entrenched in evangelical churches:

“If, in your investigation, you probe into the history and influence of Calvinism, you will discover that its doctrines have been incorporated into the majority of the great creeds of the Protestant churches” (The Five Points of Calvinism, David N. Steele & Curtis C. Thomas, Presbyterian & Reformed Pub. Co., 1963, p. 61).

I have spent a lot of my Christian life trying to refute these Reformation traditions because, supposedly, we want to follow and learn the words of God rather than the traditions of men. Thus, my initial reaction to these mini-sermons was to cringe at some of the old, set-in-stone, unbiblical traditions. It’s not even that I wanted to point them out and argue over them. I don’t enjoy angering a group of godly men even if I can solidly defend my position, and I have never seen good come from it. (I find it much better to teach on social media or with a book, allowing readers to quietly assess my arguments on their own with no pressure.)

After a few of those mini-sermons, and some stories in the midst of those, my perspective began to change. My eyes began to open, and their mini-sermons became windows into the past. I see so many things through those windows! Some take my breath away; some make me laugh.

These guys have fought the good fight for men’s souls and for discipleship. Sure, some false traditions were mixed in with the meat, but these guys are not the Pharisees that Jesus rebuked. These are seasoned warriors who have earned their retirement. Retirement for them means they don’t have to prepare a sermon every week (something I would never want to do), but although they don’t seem to ever quote Paul’s warnings (my frustration), they warn, urge, cajole, strengthen, and ooze from every pore the joy of the Word of the Lord and the effort to get men to share their joy.

My frustration has quickly changed to awe. When I say I “see” the wars they have fought and their new retired and wordy way of fighting the good fight, I mean literally see. It’s like looking down a long hallway and the battles, wounds, weariness, and triumphs are there, acted out and living like portraits in Hogwarts Castle.

Now when a mini-sermon starts, I snap to attention. I sit upright in my seat as the masters teach, mostly by their shining eyes and excited voice, and recount the deeds of the Lord.

They shall bubble over with the memory of Your abundant goodness And will shout joyfully of Your righteousness. (Ps. 145:7, NASB1995, using footnote)