The closest we get in the New Testament to a ministerial handbook are the “pastoral letters” — Timothy and Titus. I have searched for a biblical job description for a man in my position. I’ve gone back to these letters again and again, hoping to find something different. Every time, I find the same thing. Paul is ready to leave this life. He is being poured out as a drink offering. After he’s gone, it’s up to Timothy and whomever Timothy appoints to carry on. What are Paul’s instructions to these men? What are they to do?

Preach the Word. Live the Word. That’s it.

In the end, the preacher has but two things to offer. No matter how talented he is, how big his church, he has just two things to offer — the Word he speaks and the life he lives. Here and now I renew a solemn pledge: As long as God grants me breath, strength, and opportunity, I will strive to deliver a word from God and a life inhabited by that word. This I pledge on the sure and certain knowledge that He is here right now.

The older I get, the less I chafe at the chain of men’s expectations. I wish I could say the same about the other chain. It’s not a chain I wear. It’s the chain bound round others — the chain of unbelief.

A woman in Kentucky tells this story: “After directory assistance gave me my boyfriend’s new telephone number, I dialed him and got a woman.

"Is Mike there?" I asked.

"He’s in the shower," she responded.

"Please tell him his girlfriend phoned," I said and hung up.

When he didn’t call back, I dialed again.

This time a man answered. "This is Mike."

"You’re not my boyfriend!" I exclaimed.

"I know" he replied, "That’s what I’ve been trying to tell my wife for the past half-hour."

I often feel like that guy on the phone, dealing with unbelief. Some people will not darken these doors no matter what we do or say. Some people are sitting here who will not confess the Lordship of Christ and follow Him. Some people who’ve confessed the Lordship of Christ and been baptized have disappeared. It’s hard to see how they can get very far, hobbled as they are by this heavy, rusty, log chain, the chain of unbelief. There are people who come here Sunday after Sunday. It’s hard to see how they make it up the stairs, bound as they are by the same chain.

Try as they might, preachers cannot break this chain. I know. I’ve tried. For an instant, I saw it. I reached out with both hands to grab it and break it. But my hands clasped empty air. The chain is invisible, inscrutable, rattling along the dark labyrinth of the human heart. It is a spiritual battle we are engaged in, beloved. The weapons of our warfare are spiritual. We have but two: the word of God and prayer.

I’ve told you of the preacher’s Charge, his Chains. Let me tell you of the preacher’s Church. It’s a praying church.

In Ephesians 6, the last piece of equipment Paul lays out for spiritual warfare is prayer. He doesn’t give it a label like "sword" or "helmet." But I will give it a label. I will call it a weapon Paul had no knowledge of — a tank. Climb in the tank of prayer!

I wonder what would happen if at say, 9 p.m., Saturday night every one of us wherever we were would stop whatever we were doing and pray for God to move in this house on Sunday morning? Prayed for the teachers, for the worship leaders, and for the preacher?

You’ve heard of the “Purpose Driven Church.” What if our purpose was to be God-driven, God-directed, and God-inhabited?

Tell you what, next Saturday evening, wherever we are, let’s all stop what we’re doing . . . and find out. Matter of fact, let’s stop what we’re doing right now and pray.

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Gary D. Robinson is Preaching Minister at Conneautville Church of Christ in Conneautville, PA.