I do not often get to worship in other churches on Sunday mornings, but when the opportunity presents itself, I visit widely. I like to experience the way that other churches conduct worship and I love to sit under the preaching of other men. I visited a particular church one morning that was struggling to be relevant in her changing community. The ushers didn’t know where my children belonged, the beginning of the service was disheveled, and we didn’t feel incredibly welcomed. However, all was not lost. There was still a sermon to be preached and the text of the sermon was just what I needed. The pastor dug into the sermon with an admonition to stop worrying. I sank into my pew and waited to be washed with the Word. Instead, I left heart-broken.
The admonition to stop worrying was followed by four steps that I should take to stop my worrying and find peace. If I would just do these four simple things, I could finally be set free from my struggles and strife and find peace. Basically, if you are stressed or worried: STOP IT! The sermon included all of the help of a Bob Newhart skit without anywhere near the fun and joy (if you are reading this and have never seen Bob Newhart’s skit, please put this book down and do an internet search for Bob Newhart, “Stop it.”).
I heard many things that morning. There were jokes and decent sermon illustrations. I was told about the pastor’s phone and his social media habits. The one thing I was not told? I was never told that Jesus is my peace. I was never bathed in the gospel hope that Jesus is my perfect peace. Never was I driven to Psalm 46:10 and comforted with God’s promise, “Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” I wasn’t taken to John 14:27 and relieved with Jesus’ words, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, nether let them be afraid.”
As I sat in that sanctuary surrounded by people who walked in weighed down by their sin and the cares and worries of the world, I was broken-hearted. My load wasn’t lifted, I felt heavy and overwhelmed. People walked in weary from the week behind them, and left burdened with a weighty load of legalism. Rather than being brought to Christ who exchanges our heavy load for his lighter load, our packs were stuffed with four more bricks that were supposed to somehow make our journeys more peaceful and worry-free.
IS THERE NO BALM?
Jeremiah had one of the worst jobs in the history of the world—it would be harder to find a more challenging ministry post in all of God’s word than that to which Jeremiah was assigned. His job description was simple: tell God’s people that God is going to judge them; they are doomed. It is no surprise then that the people hated Jeremiah. But, even as he warned of impending judgment, Jeremiah grieved for Israel and longed to see God’s people restored,
18 My joy is gone; grief is upon me;
my heart is sick within me.
19 Behold, the cry of the daughter of my people
from the length and breadth of the land:
“Is the Lord not in Zion?
Is her King not in her?”
“Why have they provoked me to anger with their carved images
and with their foreign idols?”
20 “The harvest is past, the summer is ended,
and we are not saved.”
21 For the wound of the daughter of my people is my heart wounded;
I mourn, and dismay has taken hold on me.
22 Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?
Why then has the health of the daughter of my people
not been restored?
As I sat in that sermon and was urged to do a few more things and find peace I kept returning to Jeremiah’s grievous lamentation. I repeatedly muttered under my breath, “Is there no balm in Gilead?”
Gilead was a mountainous region east of the Jordan river that was known for its healing balm and its physicians. As Jeremiah looked upon the brokenness of Israel, he grieved for them and wondered rhetorically, “Is there no balm in Gilead?” He knew the answer. Of course, there was balm in Gilead. There were physicians too. That was the point. Israel was suffering for no reason. The Lord was still in Zion, the King had not left. Instead, his people had forsaken him. Rather than run to the healer, they had sought their own way. They were facing God’s judgment, not because God had left or had changed the rules, they were facing judgment because they had turned their back on the Lord. Repeatedly in Chapter 2 Jeremiah says, “They did not say, ‘Where is the Lord who brought us up from the land of Egypt?’” The people had exchanged their God for others gods (2:11), and were not even looking for the Lord. But, God had not left and he was still willing to be found by those who would seek him.
The problem for Israel was not that God had left, it was that he had not been sought. The balm of Gilead was available, but not applied. That is how I felt at the end of that sermon. The peace of Jesus was available, but not offered and, as a result, not applied. There was a healing balm that could give peace and joy, it was available in bulk, but it was not offered. Rather than the healing balm of Jesus, we were given the dead weight of legalism. Rather than life, we were offered death.
Pastors, we must preach Christ. Jesus is enough. Jesus is enough for your tired soul. When the weight of ministry burdens and drags you down, when one more church member is tripped up by their sin and you are tempted to despair, Jesus is enough to sustain you and carry you.
So too, Jesus is enough to carry and sustain the worn-out souls of your hearers. They come to the altar of God’s word week in and week out to be refreshed and encouraged. You have been given the gift of preaching for the edifying—the building up—of your local church. They come in beat-down and tired. The worries of financial strife, the struggles of wayward children, the back-biting of a secular workplace, and the thorns and thistles of sinful creation all work in a sort of unholy symphony to burden God’s image-bearers. Given the opportunity, this unholy symphony will actually drown out the siren call of Calvary.
But, your job each Lord’s Day is step behind the sacred desk and call people back to the cross. The pounding of spikes into the cross is a beautiful and terrible sound. There, at that cross where our Savior uttered his final words and breathed his last breaths before entering his borrowed tomb, people find their hope. Just as the Israelites were told to look to the serpent on the pole and be healed from their venomous bite, so too you must direct the gaze of your listeners to Jesus. They come in stooped with their eyes fixed on the troubles and trials of this world, your job is to redirect their gaze. They must look to Jesus and live.
I have a friend who doesn’t really like doctors. He used to visit some sort of a natural healer in his younger days and even today loves to browse the internet for alternative cures to the things that ail him. His wife is a nurse. She has little patience for is alternative approaches to medicine. Why? She wants to see him healed and made whole. The novelty of an alternative healer is not as appealing as the assurance of a cure. Pastor, neglect the novelty and give your people the cure. Give them hope and life.
There is a balm in Gilead and his name is Jesus. His yoke is easy and his burden is light. In Jesus there is eternal rest for weary souls. In Jesus there is healing and hope. In Jesus, those stooped sinners can be made to stand up-right. One of the strange ironies of the cross is seen as sinners fall before the cross, for there on their faces before Jesus, the burdens of life are lifted and they are made to stand. There is a balm, and you know him by name. Don’t peddle in cheap imitations, take them to the well of Living Water.
