Paul's Pattern for Preaching: Christ-Centered Preaching Series 3 of 6

By Larry Kirk

John Stott once observed that the secret of effective preaching is not mastering techniques but being mastered by convictions. That insight goes to the heart of Christ-centered preaching. The most important question is not how to preach Christ-centered sermons, but whether we are deeply convinced that this is what faithful preaching must do.

There is no shortage of advice today on how to do Christ-centered preaching. But the single most important issue is not technique—it is conviction. When it becomes a settled conviction that preaching must both turn up the music of the gospel and call the dance of obedience, the methods tend to follow.

This is why the analogy matters. If preachers are convinced that God’s grace in Christ must always be proclaimed and that obedience must be called forth faithfully, they will find ways to do both. Technique flows from conviction.

To deepen this conviction and to see what Christ-centered preaching looks like in practice, we can turn to one of the greatest church planters and pastors in history: the apostle Paul. Few books display his preaching pattern more clearly—or more beautifully—than the book of Ephesians.

The Music: The Riches of God’s Grace (Ephesians 1–3)

Ephesians divides naturally into two halves. Chapters 1–3 proclaim the riches of God’s grace in Christ. Chapters 4–6 show how that grace reshapes every part of life. Paul does not blur these together. He establishes the music before he ever calls the dance.

In Ephesians 1, Paul begins not with commands but with praise. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” sets the entire letter in the context of worship. What follows is a breathtaking catalogue of grace:

• God chose us before the foundation of the world

• He predestined us for adoption

• In Christ we have redemption through his blood

• Our sins are forgiven according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished on us

• We have an inheritance

• We are sealed with the Holy Spirit, the guarantee of our redemption

The result is doxology and prayer. Paul ends the chapter praying that believers would grasp the power now at work within them.

Ephesians 2 presses even deeper into grace. Paul reminds us who we once were: dead in sin, following the course of this world, children of wrath. Then come two of the most powerful words in Scripture: “But God.” God, rich in mercy, because of his great love, made us alive together with Christ. By grace we are saved.

Later in the chapter, Paul shows that this grace reconciles us not only to God but to one another. Those who were once strangers are now members of God’s household. The dividing wall has been torn down, and Christ himself is the cornerstone.

In Ephesians 3, Paul celebrates the inclusion of the Gentiles in this gracious plan and declares the astonishing result: because of Christ, we now approach God with freedom, confidence, and boldness.

Here is a striking observation: in the first three chapters of Ephesians, there is essentially one imperative—to remember who we were before grace. For three chapters, Paul turns up the music.

The Hinge: A Prayer for Power and Love (Ephesians 3:14–21)

Before moving to commands, Paul pauses to pray. This prayer is the hinge of the entire letter.

He prays that believers would be strengthened with power through the Spirit in their inner being, so that Christ may dwell in their hearts through faith. This is not about whether Christ indwells believers—Paul has already affirmed that reality. Rather, he is praying for an experiential, lived awareness of Christ’s presence through active faith.

Paul prays that believers would be rooted and established in love—using images from agriculture and architecture—and that they would grasp the vast dimensions of Christ’s love: its width, length, height, and depth. This is not mere intellectual knowledge but a lived, transforming knowledge that fills us with the fullness of God.

Only then does Paul move to the imperatives.

The Dance: A Life Shaped by the Gospel (Ephesians 4–6)

Ephesians 4 begins with the turning point: “Therefore, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.” “Worthy” does not mean earning God’s favor; it means living in a way that fits the grace already given.

Suddenly, imperatives abound.

Paul calls believers to humility, gentleness, patience, and unity. He urges them to speak the truth in love, to put off the old self and put on the new, to be angry without sinning, to stop stealing and start working, to use words that build up rather than tear down.

He addresses bitterness, slander, forgiveness, sexual purity, speech, time management, and substance abuse. He speaks to marriages, families, workplaces, and spiritual warfare. Children are told to obey, parents to nurture, believers to put on the armor of God and pray always.

As Sinclair Ferguson once observed, the gospel in Ephesians is like white light passing through a prism, refracted into every color of life. Nothing is untouched.

Paul does not weaken the call to obedience. The aim is nothing less than full obedience—100 percent, from the inside out, all of life, all the time. But the obedience flows from grace. The God who choreographs the dance also composes the music that empowers it.

Why This Pattern Matters for Preaching

Paul’s pattern teaches us something essential about Christ-centered preaching. Preaching the gospel does not diminish the importance of commands. It establishes the only foundation on which obedience can flourish.

We cannot dance well unless we are listening to the music. When preaching calls people to obedience without first immersing them in grace, it produces guilt, fear, or moralism. When preaching turns up the music without ever calling the dance, it produces passivity. Paul gives us neither option.

Faithful preaching follows his pattern: proclaim Christ, exalt grace, pray for the Spirit’s power, and then call God’s people to live lives worthy of the calling they have already received.

That is Paul’s pattern for preaching—and it remains a model for every preacher who longs to see the gospel transform real lives.

The Music and the Dance: Christ-Centered Preaching Series 2 of 6

By Larry Kirk

One of the most important convictions behind Christ-centered—or gospel-centered—preaching can be captured with a simple analogy I often use when teaching at the seminary, in the church, and even in my own personal life. I call it The Music and the Dance.

Imagine a large house where two kinds of people live together: some who can hear, and some who are deaf. Picture yourself as an observer looking in through a window.

A man walks into a room and presses a button on an entertainment system. Instantly, the room fills with music. It’s obvious he’s enjoying it. He doesn’t just stand still—he begins to move with the rhythm. At first, his movements are subtle, but before long he’s fully dancing. He’s caught up in the music, responding naturally and joyfully to what he hears.

Then a second man enters the room. He is deaf. He watches the first man carefully and thinks, That looks wonderful. I want to do that. So he begins to imitate the movements. At first it’s awkward and uncoordinated, but as he studies the other man closely, he starts to get in step. Eventually, he appears to be dancing in rhythm.

Now imagine a third person standing next to you at the window. He doesn’t know either man. From his perspective, both appear to be doing the same thing—listening to the music and dancing in response to it.

But are they really doing the same thing?

And does it matter that they are not?

That question gets to the heart of this analogy—and to the heart of preaching, ministry, and the Christian life.

There is a kind of preaching and ministry that focuses almost entirely on the dance. It is deeply concerned with whether people are moving correctly—whether they are in step, following the right rhythm, and obeying the proper commands. It prescribes steps, corrects missteps, and calls people out when they fall out of rhythm. But it doesn’t pay much attention to whether people are actually hearing the music.

Over time, this kind of approach can produce a familiar experience. People try very hard to live the Christian life. They keep moving. They keep serving. They keep obeying. But gradually—often quietly—they stop hearing the music.

For some, this happens because of the sheer longevity of ministry. Years of responsibility, disappointment, criticism, and unmet expectations can wear down the soul. The result is a kind of Christian living that still dances, but no longer delights. The movements continue, but the joy fades.

At the core of gospel-centered preaching is a refusal to separate the music from the dance.

Christ-centered preaching does not choose between grace and obedience, or between proclamation and application. It does both. It turns up the music and calls the dance.

In this analogy, the music represents the massive message of God’s redemptive love in Jesus Christ. It is not limited to forgiveness, justification, or the promise of heaven. It includes adoption into God’s family, the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, and the sure hope that all things will be made new at the end of history. It is the full kaleidoscope of grace that flows from the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, ascension, and ongoing reign of Christ.

The dance represents the whole Christian life—the call to love God and love others, and all the practical expressions of obedience that Scripture lays before us through its commands and exhortations.

The point of the analogy is not that we should turn up the music and forget about the dance. Nor is it that we should focus on the dance while ignoring the music. Faithful preaching requires both. The dance must always be connected to the music.

This is why gospel-centered preaching means preaching the person and work of Christ as both the motive and the means of Christian living. Every application of Scripture must be rooted in Christ.

The question preachers must ask as they prepare sermons is not simply What should people do? but How does the richness of our redemption in Christ supply both the reason and the power for this obedience?

The dance always has to be related to the music.

This conviction is not new. John Calvin put it plainly when he wrote:

“We ought to read the Scriptures with the express design of finding Christ in them. Whoever shall turn aside from this object, though he may weary himself throughout his whole life in learning, will never attain the knowledge of the truth; for what wisdom can we have without the wisdom of God?”

Charles Spurgeon echoed the same conviction in his own words:

“Preach Christ, always and everywhere. He is the whole gospel. His person, offices, and work must be our one great all-comprehending theme.”

Christ-centered preaching, then, is not about mastering techniques or perfecting steps. It is about ensuring that people hear the music of the gospel clearly and continually—so that their obedience flows from joy, gratitude, and love for Christ rather than from imitation, pressure, or exhaustion.

When the music is heard, the dance follows.