Serendipitous Thoughts by Sugar Bear

“That Was Smart… But Was It Grace?”

During a quiet morning of soul-searching, I found myself reflecting on the past—not to dwell in it, but to learn from it. The past is both a teacher and a testifier. It reminds me of all the sermons I’ve heard that fed my intellect but left my soul hungry.

That’s when I asked myself, “What does it really mean to be born again—not just in name, but in the marrow of my being?”

As a child of God, I’m learning to listen with spiritual ears. I don’t just want a sermon that informs the head—I want one that transforms the heart.

Martin Luther said it plainly: “Preach the Law to crush the sinner, and the Gospel to raise the dead.” That’s not just doctrine—that’s resurrection power. Yes, I thank God for pastors with brilliant minds. I’ve sat through many sermons rich with Greek etymology, historical insight, and doctrinal depth. And I often leave thinking, “That was smart.”

But deep in my spirit, I’m longing to leave saying, “That was grace.”

Like those two disciples on the road to Emmaus, I want to exclaim, “Did not our hearts burn within us while He talked with us on the road?” (Luke 24:32). That burning was more than emotion—it was recognition, conviction, and communion. It wasn’t just the mind being enlightened—it was the soul being awakened.

A good sermon is like a fire in a well-built fireplace.

The logs are the Scriptures—solid, true, time-tested. The kindling is the pastor’s study and intellect—important tools. But the fire doesn’t start without the spark of the Holy Spirit. When that spark ignites the Word, it doesn’t just warm the room—it warms the soul. It burns away pride, illuminates dark places, and draws people close to Jesus. A smart sermon arranges the logs—but a Gospel sermon sets them ablaze.

When I leave church, I don’t want to say, “Nice fireplace.”

I want to say, “Thank You, Lord, for the fire.”

A mentor once told me, “Sugar Bear, if you can’t find both the Law and the Gospel in the sermon, you didn’t hear the voice of the Good Shepherd.”

So how do I respond? Not with judgment. Not with pride. But with hunger. Lord, raise up preachers who don’t just explain You—but embody You. Who don’t just unpack Scripture—but unleash the Savior.

And when someone says, “You can’t change the game,”

I smile and say, “Watch what happens when Jesus preaches.”

God bless you—and this ministry!