You’re My Man, Aren’t You?

Will You Speak Truth?

When God looks at a preacher and asks for courage, not applause

A pastor friend once wrestled over a Sunday sermon. The word felt too strong. He kept seeing faces. Then he sensed the Lord press a simple question upon him: “You’re My man, aren’t you?” That settled it. He would not disappoint God.

That question still searches anyone called to speak.

It is an honor. The Lord of heaven could have chosen another, yet He looks at you. At the same time it is a charge. You are no longer free to say only what is welcome. A messenger does not invent the sentence. He delivers what he has been given.

Scripture has already shown us the scene. “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” (Isaiah 6:8). Most look away. The word will cut. Some will hate the one who carries it. Then the King turns to one servant: Will you go?

Jeremiah felt the same weight. “Ah, Lord GOD! behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child.” God answered, “Say not, I am a child… whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. Be not afraid of their faces: for I am with thee” (Jeremiah 1:6–8). Then He put His words in the prophet’s mouth.

That is still the call. Faithfulness is the assignment; results are not yours to manage.

In my early years after the Lord found me, I wrote a warning inside my Bible so I would see it whenever I opened the Book: our times do not need a cozy word. They need a word that disturbs. The Spirit will not anoint a preacher who is afraid to unsettle. You would not ask a surgeon to step aside for a man with sweet medicine. The Cross was not lovely to look at—wood, blood, and a bruised Savior—because Jesus was not treating a small wound. He was dealing with sin.

Preaching is not a performance. Better God’s smile than men’s clapping. You cannot leave people thinking you are clever and thinking Christ is wonderful at the same time. One impression drives out the other.

Look at Jesus. We love to speak of meekness, and He is meek. He also spoke with such authority that many disciples “went back, and walked no more with him” (John 6:66). He cleansed the temple. He told parables that the leaders knew were aimed at them. True preaching will often meet the same reaction.

Martyn Lloyd-Jones said the church’s most urgent need is true preaching. Wesley feared preachers had been more careful to please than to awaken. Chadwick said that without the Fire of God nothing else counts.

This generation does not need a smoother sound. It needs the preaching of the Cross—baptized in truth, aimed at God’s glory, willing to lose a crowd to save a soul. The psalm still asks, “Who will rise up for me against the evildoers?” (Psalm 94:16).

Will you be the man?

Aaron Beiler