The Prophet Ezekiel had a tough ministry. He had been ministering to the exiles from Judah in the land of Babylon for seven long years, and, as God had forewarned, they would not listen to him (Ezek. 2:1–5; 3:7). On the contrary, they dismissed him as something of a religious quack, and his message of the impending doom of Jerusalem and its temple as unpatriotic and divisive. Indeed, they had tied him up (3:25), and to their gag order God had added His own, by forbidding him to speak for a season (3:26–27, 24:27).

But in Ezekiel 33:21 all that changed. A refugee came from Jerusalem with incontrovertible proof that the prophet’s message had come true: the Babylonian army had taken the holy city as God’s vengeance for the apostasy of His people. Now, suddenly, Ezekiel was preaching to an eager audience. Shaken by these dramatic and fearful current events (as people sometimes are), their thoughts suddenly turned back to God, and for a season, at least, they were ready to listen. They thronged to hear the Word preached by God’s messenger. They sat attentively and discussed his sermons at home and in the street. But despite the appearance of revival, all was not as it seemed:

“As for you, son of man, the children of your people are talking about you beside the walls and in the doors of the houses; and they speak to one another, everyone saying to his brother, ‘Please come and hear what the word is that comes from the Lord.’ So they come to you as people do, they sit before you as My people, and they hear your words, but they do not do them; for with their mouth they show much love, but their hearts pursue their own gain. Indeed you are to them as a very lovely song of one who has a pleasant voice and can play well on an instrument; for they hear your words, but they do not do them. And when this comes to pass—surely it will come—then they will know that a prophet has been among them” (Ezek. 33:30–33).

Sadly, Ezekiel is not the only pastor who has had to deal with a congregation like that. Preachers of sermons will have to deal with hearers who listen appreciatively to their homiletical skill but whose lives seem impervious to the gospel message preached. And hearers of sermons also need to be on their guard against being “hearers of the Word and not doers” (Jas. 1:22). Whether in the pulpit or the pew, this incident in Ezekiel’s ministry reminds us of two very important things.

Preaching is Not a Performing Art

“Indeed you are to them as a very lovely song of one who has a pleasant voice and can play well on an instrument; for they hear your words, but they do not do them” (Ezek. 33:32). This is a sobering verse that should help preachers manage their expectations, because it exposes a dynamic that is all too common: the danger of loving good preaching but remaining unchanged by it. It isn’t describing a problem with the preacher. Ezekiel’s sermons were highly literate and theologically orthodox. His call to preach was indisputable. His sermon delivery was electrifying. He had aced his homiletics class, and we are told that his sermons were the talk of the town.

For that reason, this dynamic is perhaps a particular danger in Reformed churches. We rightly esteem preaching as the primary means of grace: “God maketh the hearing, but especially the preaching of the Word, an effectual means of convincing and converting sinners” (Westminster Shorter Catechism 89). People don’t come to our churches because we have a great “special effects” department, or a great rock band. No, we have people who love good preaching! And yet, like Ezekiel’s hearers, they may not be changed by it. Even under the regular ministry of homiletical heroes, preaching can subtly become a performing art. This can happen in three ways.

By focusing on the preacher’s celebrity. Ezekiel wasn’t out to become a homiletical icon, but after an unpromising start he became a very popular preacher (Ezek. 33:30–31). People talked about him. They sat attentively at his feet and shared his sermon podcasts widely. Perhaps his fans marketed “Zeke merch”! But celebrity does not mean success in the preaching endeavor, and the “branding” of preachers by their hearers obscures the glory of the Christ they preach. Plenty of folks follow them on the conference circuit and have signed copies of their latest books. But is the gospel transforming their lives? They might be getting good sermons, but they have abstracted the preacher from the preaching. They have elevated his charisma above his Christ. They love the ambassador, but not the King who sent him. Preaching has become a performing art.

By focusing on the preacher’s homiletical skill. Here is preaching as entertainment: “Indeed, you are to them as a very lovely song of one who has a pleasant voice and can play well on an instrument” (33:31–32). What pastor wouldn’t want to serve a congregation that appreciates homiletical skill, a clear homiletical point, good sermon structure, sound exegesis, powerful illustrations, and convicting applications? Isn’t that the kind of feedback he wants to hear from his sermons? “With their mouth they show much love.” But what every faithful pastor wants much more is that with their lives they show much Christlikeness.

By focusing on the preacher’s earthly résumé. “Then they will know that a prophet has been among them” (33:33). Ezekiel’s congregation already knew that a preacher had been among them, but not a prophet. They were focusing on the preacher’s earthly résumé—his natural gifts and homiletical qualifications—but not his eternal message, or the great King whose ambassador he was. Like so many churchgoers today, they followed the weekly religious ritual of hearing a sermon, but they didn’t see beyond the man wearing a suit in the pulpit: “He comes from a good seminary; he was discipled by a well-known minister; he has a good pedigree in the denomination; he reads the Puritans.”

But do you realize he also comes with a personal commission from the triune God to be His mouthpiece? Do you receive him as a herald of the King of kings, or simply as a Reformed Presbyterian Theological Seminary (RPTS) grad? As popular author, or as a preacher of the cross? As a podcaster or a prophet? “Christ executeth the office of a Prophet by making known to us the will of God for our salvation” (Shorter Catechism 26)—and He does this today preeminently by ordained preachers of the Word.

Hearing is Not a Passive Entertainment

The second warning from this text is for hearers of preaching. It is possible to be starving at a banquet table. The parable of the sower warns how even Christians can receive the Word “with joy,” but it is quickly forgotten (Matt. 13:20). Ezekiel’s congregation teaches us to examine ourselves. How is the soil of our hearts? Are we responsive, ready to “receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save our souls” (Jas. 1:21)?

We are blessed in our Reformed world with a choice banquet of excellent preaching in our churches, or a few clicks away on the internet. But what if we still aren’t growing? Ezekiel’s hearers had a good diet of preaching and yet were unnourished by it: “The message they heard did not profit them, because it was not mixed with faith by those who listened” (Heb. 4:2). They might not have been intentional hypocrites. Perhaps they genuinely meant what they said when they uttered “Good sermon, pastor!” as they hustled out the door. But that’s what makes it so scary—they don’t see the disconnect between their avid hearing of a sermon and their total lack of transformation by it. They put their trust in outward forms, but their lives remain unchanged.

What we have here is a spiritual eating disorder. It’s not that they were eating spiritual junk food. It’s not even that they were refusing to eat the nourishing food set before them. Rather, something was happening after the meal to hinder digestion and nourishment. We might call it spiritual bulimia: while apparently savoring regular meals, they were willfully resisting the whole purpose of this lovingly prepared nourishment. And, in the same way, a pastor can tell something is wrong when his people seem to have an appetite for the Word preached but, paradoxically, they are withering on the vine spiritually. There is no tangible spiritual growth year by year; no increase in practical holiness; no development of Christian character. They may be at church twice a week, but instead of a growing reverence for the worship of God, an air of spiritual apathy or jovial triviality prevails. In such cases, an underlying heart issue must be diagnosed and addressed. Unless the Spirit of God accompanies the means of grace to make them effectual, we may expect no spiritual harvest.

The Larger Catechism 160 reminds us, “It is required of those that hear the word preached, that they attend upon it with diligence, preparation, and prayer; examine what they hear by the scriptures; receive the truth with faith, love, meekness, and readiness of mind, as the word of God; meditate, and confer of it; hide it in their hearts, and bring forth the fruit of it in their lives.” Let us be careful how we preach, and let us also be careful how we listen! May we be “doers of the Word and not hearers only, deceiving ourselves” (Jas. 1:22). After all, preaching is not a performing art.