“So
deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the
gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.”
-
1 Thessalonians 2:8
One
of our nation’s most enduring political traditions is the State of the Union
address. Every year, upon receiving his invitation from the Speaker of the House,
the president comes before a joint session of Congress to thunderous applause
and delivers a speech full of statistics, anecdotes about “everyday hardworking
Americans,” and inevitably declares that “the state of our Union is strong.”
With every big name in the federal government assembled in one room and with
millions of people watching on television, the president reflects upon the
successes of the past year and sets the agenda for the future, to cheers from
his party and mostly silence from the opposition. No matter who the president
is, no matter what party they belong to, that is basically always how the State
of the Union works.
But
it hasn’t always been that way. For more than a hundred years, the president
did not appear before a joint session of Congress, nor did he deliver a speech.
Starting with Thomas Jefferson, presidents simply wrote a letter to Congress,
which was then read by proxy. Not until Woodrow Wilson came before Congress
with his speech in 1913 did presidents once again appear in person to deliver
their addresses. For more than a hundred years, the delivery of the State of
the Union wasn’t an event, just another dreary day in Congress—no pomp, no ceremony,
and no presidential appearance.
You
can imagine the outcry is a president tried that today. For better or for worse, the State of the Union
address is more than a message now; it is a televised spectacle, a chance for
the president to not only address Congress, but the American people. It’s not even
about the content of the speech necessarily—we all understand that presidents
don’t write these speeches themselves, that they are crafted primarily by paid
speechwriters in consultation with various agencies, cabinet offices, and
congresspeople—nevertheless, we demand that the president himself say the
words. The message is important, but so too is the messenger.
That
principle is one God validated when He gave us the gospel—not as a set of
principles or a path to salvation, but as a person. “The Word became flesh and
lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of the Father’s only
Son, full of grace and truth,” says John 1:14. When the time came for God to
unveil his plan for the salvation of the world, He didn’t send a proxy, He came
in the flesh. Christ didn’t just talk about the kingdom of God, he showed it to
us with his miracles, his ministry, and ultimately his death and resurrection.
The gospel is not a sermon or a book, it is Christ himself.
So
it’s no wonder that the apostle Paul, seeking to imitate his Lord, tells his
beloved church in Thessalonica that “we are determined to share with you not
only the gospel of God but also our own selves.” Jesus taught him—and us—that ministry
is supposed to be incarnational, not distant, that your presence is as
important as your preaching. People are not just listening for the gospel, they
are watching for it too. The message matters, but so too does the messenger.
As
you go into the world, may you share the gospel not only with your words, but
with your whole self, preaching and
practicing compassion, forgiveness, grace, and love. Give more than a speech,
give yourself—because from the manger to the cross, that’s what our Lord did.
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