The Quiet Power of Preaching

You can tell a lot about a church by listening to a few of its sermons.

Some churches preach as if every sermon must convince the lost to believe again. The message always circles back to "make a decision," "say the prayer," or "come forward." These churches often have a deeply evangelistic heart, which is admirable. But over time, the emphasis on conversion can begin to wear thin. It is as if the church is always in the birthing room but never in the living room or the kitchen, where real life, growth, and formation take place.

Other churches, shaped by topical preaching, may offer a rotating buffet of self-help, inspiration, or cultural commentary. Some Sundays, it is a word on relationships. Next week, it is overcoming anxiety. Occasionally, there is a nod to doctrine. But Scripture often becomes a launching pad for isolated themes rather than a well to be drawn from.

At First Free, and in many churches shaped by the Reformation, we have made a different commitment: to open the Bible, passage by passage, and to preach what it says. We believe that God has spoken. That His Word is life. That Scripture is not only inspired and inerrant, but fully sufficient to build up the church, guide the believer, and bring sinners to saving faith. And that every part of Scripture is meant to reveal both His holy standard (Law) and His gracious rescue (Gospel). We preach not to manipulate emotion, but to exalt Christ. Not to entertain or scold, but to feed God's people with truth and grace. We believe that faithful preaching is not just a human effort, but a divinely appointed means of grace through which the Spirit of God speaks to His people.

This article is about why that matters.

What Is Expository, Law-Gospel Preaching?

At its heart, expository preaching is the careful, Spirit-dependent task of drawing out the meaning of a biblical text and delivering it to God's people. It does not treat Scripture as a jumping-off point for the preacher's ideas. It does not flatten the Bible into a list of moral lessons. Instead, it asks, "What has God said here, and how does this Word confront, comfort, and change us today?"

When we say we preach "expositionally," we mean we open the Bible and let it lead. Not our personalities. Not our preferences. Not the calendar of national holidays or the noise of the cultural moment. The goal is to say what God has said, in the way He has said it.

That can take different forms. Sometimes, expository preaching moves seriatim (that is, sequentially) through an entire book of the Bible, week by week. Other times, it focuses on a single passage or verse, exploring its meaning in depth and in context. What matters most is not whether we cover three verses or thirty, but whether we let the passage speak on its own terms, within the flow of redemptive history.

And all of this depends on the work of the Holy Spirit. We do not believe that human words, even well-preached ones, can change hearts on their own. The Spirit who inspired the text is also the One who illumines it for understanding and drives it home with conviction. Expository, Christ-centered preaching is not just instruction. It is a means of grace through which God speaks and acts.

Expository preaching, by itself, can become dry if it is merely academic. It can become impersonal if it only points out commands. That is where the law-gospel distinction becomes essential.

Law-gospel preaching recognizes that every passage of Scripture contains, in one way or another, both a call and a comfort. The law is God's holy standard. It tells us what God requires, exposes our sin, and shows us our need. The gospel is God's gracious provision. It reveals what God has done in Christ to save sinners, and how all who trust in Him are rescued, forgiven, and made new.

This distinction is not a gimmick or a grid we impose on the text. It is the very heartbeat of redemptive preaching. It allows us to speak with moral clarity and gracious tenderness. It helps us avoid sermons that are either all demand (which crush) or all comfort (which coddle). Instead, we aim to let the Word wound and heal, convict and comfort, strip away illusions, and then clothe us in Christ.

And always, we aim to show how the passage fits within the larger story of Scripture, a story that unfolds within God's covenantal plan and culminates in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

This kind of preaching does not just aim for a response. It aims for formation. Week after week, it shapes hearts and minds to love the Lord, to trust His Word, and to follow Christ with both reverence and joy.

What Expository, Law-Gospel Preaching Is Not

To understand the beauty and depth of expository, law-gospel preaching, it helps to contrast it with some of the more common preaching approaches that shape much of the modern American church landscape. This is not about dismissing others out of hand. It is about recognizing what is at stake when we lose our anchor in the text and in the gospel.

Topical preaching, for example, can serve a real purpose. As such, we occasionally preach topical messages. There are moments when a carefully chosen theme—such as marriage, anxiety, justice, or stewardship—needs to be addressed directly from Scripture. The problem comes when every sermon becomes a themed message, driven more by what the preacher believes people need than by what God has actually said. In this model, the Bible often becomes a tool for reinforcement rather than revelation. A few verses are quoted to support a topic, but the passage is rarely allowed to unsettle or reshape the message. The result is a congregation that may be inspired, but not deeply rooted.

Therapeutic preaching is increasingly common, and often comes from a place of genuine concern. The focus is typically on personal wholeness, emotional healing, and practical steps to a better life. These are worthy aims. Scripture speaks to anxiety and grief. It comforts the weary and binds up the brokenhearted. Biblical preaching does address these things—clearly, compassionately, and with depth.

But when sermons consistently avoid discussing sin, holiness, judgment, and repentance, they can unintentionally dull the urgency of grace. The gospel becomes less about dying and rising with Christ, and more about feeling better or doing better. God is subtly recast as a life coach instead of a Redeemer. And the cross fades into the background, no longer the necessary center but an inspirational backdrop to our personal improvement plans.

Moralistic preaching often sounds serious and biblical. It tends to be strong on imperatives—calling people to obedience, discipline, and responsibility—but light on the redemptive foundation that makes true obedience possible. The tone may be reverent, the passages well-chosen, and the doctrine sound in form. But when the gospel is assumed or under-emphasized, the Christian life gets reduced to trying harder and doing better. Without the good news of what Christ has done, hearers are left with law but no life, effort without rest, and pressure without power. Over time, even sincere Christians can become discouraged, defensive, or disillusioned, wondering why their efforts feel joyless or dry.

Revivalist preaching often carries great passion and urgency, with a focus on personal conversion. Many of us were first awakened to the gospel through this kind of preaching, and God has used it powerfully. But when revivalist urgency becomes the dominant or only mode, the long-term effects can be spiritually stunting. Every passage gets flattened into a call to make a decision. Every sermon circles back to "get saved" Sunday. Instead of helping believers walk with Christ, the message continually asks them to return to the starting line.

Over time, this approach can leave mature Christians unsure of their assurance and undernourished in their discipleship. Emotion becomes the measure of faith. The absence of tears or dramatic moments feels like a crisis. And both the preacher and the people may quietly burn out from the pressure.

These models are not dangerous because they are always wrong. They are dangerous because they are incomplete. They emphasize decisions without discipleship, inspiration without formation, affirmation without repentance, emotion without enduring hope, and imperatives without the indicatives of grace.

While they may produce energy in the moment, they often leave God's people underfed, unstable, or unsure of where to turn when the emotions fade, or when their effort finally runs out.

How Expository, Law-Gospel Preaching Nourishes the Church

When preaching is tethered to the text and shaped by the rhythm of law and gospel, something powerful happens. It is not always loud or flashy, but it is deep and lasting. God's people begin to grow.

Not just in head knowledge, though their understanding of Scripture will deepen. Not just in emotional responsiveness, though their affections for Christ may be stirred. They begin to grow in wholeness. They become rooted in the Word, responsive to grace, and resilient in faith.

This kind of preaching nourishes the church in at least four key ways:

First, it builds a theologically anchored, Bible-literate people. When a church moves through books of the Bible, or faithfully dwells in a single passage without skipping or smoothing over the hard parts, the congregation begins to see Scripture not as a collection of verses but as a unified story. They learn to trace themes, follow arguments, and hear the voice of God. Not just in the famous passages, but in the obscure corners of the canon. Over time, this forms people who are not swayed by fads or fluff. They know the Shepherd's voice.

Second, it trains people to hear both the holiness and mercy of God. The law reminds us that God is not casual about sin. The gospel reminds us that He is not stingy with grace. When both are proclaimed in their proper weight and proportion, people stop living in shame or presumption. Instead, they begin to live in repentance and joy. They are not always trying to earn God's love, and they are not treating it cheaply. That is the space where real transformation begins.

Third, it gives room for the full emotional and spiritual range of Scripture. A church fed only on "victory" verses will not know how to lament. A church fed only on guilt will forget how to rejoice. But when we preach the whole counsel of God, we begin to mirror the emotional honesty of the Psalms, the sturdy faith of the prophets, the hard-won wisdom of the epistles, and the piercing hope of the gospels. We become less plastic and more human. Less performative and more anchored.

Fourth, it forms people for long obedience in the same direction. Revivalist preaching may generate decisions. Topical sermons may meet short-term needs. But expository, law-gospel preaching forms disciples. It builds people who know how to follow Jesus when it is quiet, when it is slow, and when no one is watching. It shapes a kind of durable faith, forged not in emotional moments alone, but in years of steady feeding.

This is how a church grows. Not just in size, but in depth. This is how the roots go down. And this is how God's people become wise, joyful, and ready for whatever comes next.

What's the Point? Comforting the Afflicted, Afflicting the Comfortable, Building the Body of Christ

Every pastor preaches with hopes. We hope people will listen. We hope the Word will take root. We hope lives will change. But faithful preaching requires more than hope. It requires clarity of aim.

Expository, law-gospel preaching aims at more than just transferring information or stirring emotion. It aims at the heart. And it recognizes that not every heart needs the same medicine in the same moment.

This is why the distinction between law and gospel is not just theological. It is pastoral.

Martin Luther once wrote that the law is for the proud, and the gospel is for the brokenhearted. That simple sentence captures a deep truth. Some people sitting in the pew are weighed down with shame, guilt, failure, or fear. Others are self-satisfied, defensive, or quietly hardened. Both need the Word. But they do not need the same part of it in the same way.

The law comes to expose the proud. To confront self-dependence. To unmask hypocrisy. To remind us that we are not the center of the story. That sin is real. That holiness matters. The law drives us to the end of ourselves, and that is a mercy.

The gospel comes to comfort the weary. To lift the chin of the ashamed. To bring healing where there has been hiding. To whisper the good news that Christ has done what we could never do. That His blood covers real sin. That He is enough.

The goal is never just to provoke emotion or manufacture decisions. The goal is to form people into the likeness of Christ. Over time. Through grace. In the messiness of real life.

That kind of formation requires a wide lens. It means sometimes the sermon will feel like an invitation. Other times it will feel like a warning. Sometimes it will confront patterns we did not want to see. Other times it will meet us in the quiet sorrow we had no words for.

But in every case, the aim is the same: to hold out Christ. Not just as an example, or a cheerleader, or a helper. But as the crucified and risen Savior. The One who fulfills the law and freely gives the gospel. The One who alone can make us whole.

What If the Best Way to Reach People Is to Feed the Church?

One of the most common objections to expository, law-gospel preaching goes something like this: “But what about the lost? What about visitors? Do not we need to make every sermon evangelistic?”

It is a fair concern. We should long for people to come to Christ. We should preach with the awareness that not everyone listening knows the Lord. But the solution is not to repackage every sermon into a gospel tract. The solution is deeper and better.

Here is the real question: What kind of church is most compelling to an unbelieving world?

Is it the church that tailors every sermon toward non-Christians, simplifying the gospel to its lowest common denominator week after week? Or is it the church where the Word of God is opened with reverence, where sin is named honestly, grace is preached boldly, and Christ is lifted high?

When we feed the church well, the church becomes the witness.

Unbelievers visiting a service may not grasp everything immediately. But they will see something different. They will see a people humbled by truth and transformed by mercy. They will hear a message that does not shrink to meet their expectations but calls them to something holy and glorious and costly and free.

And over time, they may come to believe. Not because the message was simplified, but because it was preached in full.

There is also this. A well-fed church is a powerful evangelistic presence outside the walls of Sunday. When believers are regularly hearing the gospel applied to real life, they begin to speak it with confidence. They begin to embody it in quiet, faithful ways. The conversations over lunch, the kindness to a neighbor, the prayer in a crisis: these become the everyday liturgies of witness.

We aim to preach in such a way that believers are rooted and built up, and seekers are intrigued and drawn in by the strange and beautiful story of a crucified King who still speaks.

Conclusion: Why We Will Keep Preaching This Way

We live in a moment when preaching is often judged by how entertaining it is, how funny it was, or how emotionally moving it felt. But faithful preaching has never been about impressing the audience. It is about delivering the mail. And we know who wrote it.

We preach expositionally, and we preach law and gospel, because God’s Word is living and active. Because His law is holy, and His gospel is good. Because His Spirit delights to take His truth and do what no preacher ever could: raise the dead, soften the proud, comfort the crushed, and form the image of Christ in His people.

This kind of preaching is not fast. It is not flashy. But it is faithful. And over time, it bears fruit that lasts.

So if you are part of a church where this is the aim, give thanks. Lean in. Bring your Bible. Listen for both the wound and the healing. Let the Word expose, confront, forgive, and restore. Let it shape your view of God, of yourself, and of the world.

And if you are a preacher, do not lose heart. You do not have to be clever. You do not have to reinvent the gospel. There are things we can learn from compelling communication—yes, even from TED Talks and trending voices—but we are not called to compete with them. We are called to proclaim Christ through the Word, trusting that God still speaks through what He has spoken.

Just open the Word. Let it speak. Christ will feed His sheep.