Great Sermon

Dr. John E. Morgan photoBy Dr. John E. Morgan

Pastor–Collinsville Baptist Church

My wife had an unusual comment about my preaching.

We were on our first family trip west.  It was nothing like the Griswold’s trip in Family Vacation.  It was late May when we left Alabama towing a little pop-top camper with canvas sides.  We were going all the way to Calgary and the Canadian Rockies to visit friends.

We drove straight to Denver then into the Rockies for camping.  There was still snow on the ground at our over 9,000 feet campground.  My boys loved it (just three boys at this time).  My wife wanted heat.

We drove though a hot air balloon gathering then into Wyoming, getting to Jackson just after dark.  We knew there were mountains, but we could not see them in the dark.  Jackson is at the southern end of Jackson Hole, a 6,000 feet high bowl surrounded by mountains.

Fortified with pancakes, we drove toward into the bowl the next day.  A mile or two in, the small mountain on our left fell away.  And we gasped.  There on our left were the Grand Tetons stretching up to almost 14,000 feet.  They jabbed into the perfect blue sky.  Patches of white clouds in the sky, white snow fields on the mountains.  We were not ready for the sudden beauty.  The grain fields of the bowl served as a platter to display the mountains, rows of Aspens standing guard at the end of the fields.  We stopped just to stare.

We stopped at a ranch that predates the National Park.  The Snake River cut through the ranch that had operated a ferry.  Back toward the mountains sat a small wooden chapel.  It nestled into the grass as if it had grown there with the sage grass, a small wooden cross on the roof pointing to the heavens.

We considered skipping the inside of the chapel, anxious to get up the road to Jenny Lake and see how its surface reflects the mountains.  But we are not church skipping people, so we went into what we learned was the Chapel of Transfiguration.  People have worshipped there since 1925.

The building was simple wood everywhere.  Door, floors, ceiling, altar rail, pews with seating for about fifty.  All lovingly polished.  But Gloria and I did not really notice any of that for a while.  Behind the altar rail and communion table was a huge window covering most of the back wall.  When you walk through the door your eyes are drawn to the window and the mountains beyond.  It acts as a huge picture frame of the most beautiful view in the world.  For the second time that morning, we gasped at the beauty.

I noticed that the pulpit was pushed far over to the side as if it was an afterthought.  No danger of it interfering with the view.  After a while, I looked over at Gloria and said, “Oh, Honey.  If I preached here nobody would ever listen to me.”

She did not bother to take her eyes off the view as she said, “Honey, if you preached here nobody would need to listen to your sermon.”

I smiled.  She was right.  God had already preached the sermon.  The mountains shouted His name, His presence, His grandeur and His love.  He spoke the mountains into being.  And now He still speaks to us.

Maybe you aren’t seeing a lot of beauty right now.  One thing I am sure of.  God is speaking to you.  Just listen.  Try a local church.  Try a Bible.  Try talking to Jesus.  Or drive Highway 11 from Fort Payne to Collinsville.  Look.  And listen to Him.