In the beginning, water swirled, a current of formless chaos. And God spoke, a voice of unstoppable creation. God formed a man — a speaker in his image — and breathed the breath of life into him.
I don’t remember when I first heard this story. It was part of me before I spoke any words of my own. When I learned to write, ideas became embodied in ink and paper, and I learned how to hold words in my hands.
All children imitate. Having little experience or insight of their own, children speak the words that have been spoken into them. So, I wrote about Jesus, excited to have found a way to share the gospel.
Loving words the way I do, I have puzzled over (and been a bit discouraged by) Francis of Assisi’s famous quote: “Preach the gospel; if necessary, use words.”
It’s true: the gospel cannot be preached with words alone. If we only preach information, point out sin, and instruct people to change, we preach one more self-help method, not the gospel. Jesus did not come to us with words alone. The heart and center of the gospel is the action of Jesus’ redeeming death. The gospel is embodied; so, our evangelism must be embodied.
But mere action has no meaning without words to explain it. Many people do “good works”— feed the hungry, protect the weak, care for the sick. But good works performed without reason or explanation are as capricious, chaotic, and meaningless as the actions of a thief who robs any passing traveler.
The gospel is not only words or actions. The gospel is a story; it’s how the words and actions fit together.
A story is composed of events — the actions of characters. And a story is made of words that describe those events and give them meaning.
The gospel is a story; it’s how the words and actions fit together.
The Gospel of John calls Jesus “the Word” — the “Logos” in Greek. Logos means “the reason” and “the order.” I think of logos as “the story” — action and word woven together in a way that makes sense and makes us new.
If Jesus only performed miracles before his death and never explained the truth about the deadly severity of our sin and the redeeming power of his love, he would have seemed like nothing more than a magician. If Jesus only taught and never performed the loving action of the cross, he would have seemed like any other prophet.
But the gospel is a story, like the story in John 8:1-11. It begins with a woman whose life is in chaos. Local religious leaders catch her in the sin of adultery. They drag her through the streets and throw her at Jesus’ feet. As dust and anger swirl, they urge Jesus to sentence her to death according to the law.
Jesus could have argued with them or explained the law. He could have wordlessly struck the woman or her accusers down.
Instead, Jesus kneels, reaches into the dust, and writes. Then he speaks, convicting the mob and telling the woman, “Go now and leave your life of sin.”
The Bible doesn’t say what Jesus wrote. But this moment of action and word fascinates me. It echoes the creation of Adam from dust and the words spoken in the beginning that carved the universe from the formless deep.
The Word of God creates a new life out of the dust, chaos, and mystery. He touches the earth through action and explains what he is doing in words. He breathes into a good-as-dead person the breath of life.
Breath is the power of speech and movement — word and action. The gospel that saves us is word and action. And, because children can only imitate, the gospel that we share is word and action, truth and love. The gospel goes forth from us as testimony — the words that announce true transformation and the vital actions of love that evidence it.
