The Plagiarism Trap

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One day, as Jesus was teaching the people in the temple and preaching the gospel, the chief priests and the scribes with the elders came up and said to him, “Tell us by what authority you do these things, or who it is that gave you this authority.” He answered them, “I also will ask you a question. Now tell me, Was the baptism of John from heaven or from man?” And they discussed it with one another, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Why did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘From man,’ all the people will stone us to death, for they are convinced that John was a prophet.” So they answered that they did not know where it came from. And Jesus said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things.”
—Luke 20:1-8 ESV

Last week, The Wall Street Journal—my personal newspaper of record—ran a front page article discussing the issue of plagiarizing sermons (“That Sermon You Heard on Sunday May Be From the Web“). Some churches and pastors think nothing of using a message already delivered, while others grow livid at the very idea. I’ve followed the issue across several blogs (Challies.com had the most extensive discussion), but it appears to me, now that the dust has settled, that the discussion danced around core issues no one confronted.

Ultimately, the issue of plagiarizing sermons sets multiple traps.

Consider the Luke passage above. Jesus sets up a fork for the Jewish leaders, forcing them down two roads, neither of which they wish to commit to.

To discuss plagiarizing sermons, we must begin with the ultimate source of a sermon message: Does our preaching ultimately have its source in men or in God? 

The Bible makes it crystal clear that our preaching comes from God:

And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God. And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual. The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. “For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?” But we have the mind of Christ.
—1 Corinthians 2:1-5, 12-16 ESV

Plagiarism argues the source of the words is wronged by their taking and should seek redress. It also states the plagiarizer deceitfully passes off the words he speaks as his own.

But if anyone reading now can make a case that anything you or I own has its final source not in God, but humankind, I’d love to hear that argument!

This brings us to the other fork. If we don’t fully believe that God is the one who owns the words that come out of a preacher’s mouth, then those words are merely words of clever men. If that’s the case, then God have mercy on us because we’ve removed Christ from our preaching. Evangelist Billy SundayThe Jewish leaders fell into this problem with the source of John’s baptism, and we merely repeat it.

The converse of this is that an avowed atheist could stand up in a church pulpit and read from the Bible with an actor’s passion, yet would anyone define that as pastoral preaching of the word, especially by the standard some insisting upon in their attacks on sermon plagiarism?

When we discuss this issue, this is the major dilemma we face. We can get all riled up about preaching the word, but then we shoot ourselves by insisting that somehow we’re the true source of that word.

But we aren’t.

Here’s what truly makes me shake my head: The people arguing most fiercely for punishing plagiarism are the same folks who uphold a high view of preaching. Yet by their very arguments, if they make a claim on a message, they strip out God and ascribe it to men. If they insist they’re not doing that, then they agree that God is still speaking.

God is still speaking? Wow, that sounds a lot like what those nutty charismatics believe! Yet you’d be hardpressed to get many of the folks who would argue that sermons aren’t messages that originate solely with men to buy that logical outcome.

If the primary issue here comes down to whether or not the Gospel is preached, does it matter if the person delivering the message was the first person to deliver it? If we humans can’t improve on the Scriptures already delivered to us, then what is being added to an exposition of those Scriptures that makes it rooted to one church on one Sunday, delivered by one human being?

Many argue against re-using a message, but that’s illogical if the message is inspired by God. Did the sermon get preached once and then no longer apply anywhere? Does God’s message return void after it’s been spoken once? It seems the same people who are arguing for stringing up plagiarizers hold a pretty low view of the Gospel, if they believe it only has a specific rendering to one set of people at one time and one place.

What’s worse is the logic that traps them—again. If the message were that specific to only one group of people, then it takes on a prophetic utterance that calls the closed canon of Scripture into question. (At least by their own arguments against an open canon, it would.)

One of the arguments against one person using a sermon delivered by another plays up the pastoral component. Aren’t we paying our pastors to preach the word?

The trap here wonders at what point a sermon no longer becomes relevant because someone else preached it previously. Isn’t a sermon someone else preached still the the word if God is behind it?

What about giving credit to the originator of the message? Well, isn’t the originator God? If you take a look at the sermons delivered in Acts, they bear an uncanny resemblance to each other, laying out God’s redemptive plan in a similar way, yet no one ascribed any authorship to anyone else.

Traps, traps, traps no matter where one turns if one pursues the plagiarism punishment angle.

Perhaps the better case is to forget making the use of someone else’s sermon a crime in the Church, ascribed or not.

What if we did? What if all we’ve done by stigmatizing the corporate use of preaching the word is to merely lift up the reputation of some preachers over others? I don’t think we ever consider that reality. Do we rate a minister of the Gospel solely by his talent for preaching? If so, many solid Christian men would be disqualified from the ministry. If we believe that preaching the word is a true spiritual gift, then every pastor in this country has that gift. Does anyone reading this believe that? One hundred percent? All the time? If not, then shouldn’t those pastors who may not have that supernatural gift operating at all times have access to the messages of those men who do have it?

Personally, I find the selling of sermons more reprehensible than any supposed plagiarism, especially because I believe God inspires those messages we hear. If it’s only to recover the cost of distribution, I can see some justification for that. Even then, freely we have received, so freely we give.

I offer all this as food for thought. I’m not fully decided on this issue myself. What bothers me is our failure to frame our terms correctly and to get to their roots. Unless we do that, we fall into worthless arguments based on the laws of men and not on the truths of God.

I’ve read all the arguments upholding the idea of punishing plagiarism of sermons, yet if followed to their natural conclusions they always lead to the same trap: the exaltation of men over God. John Piper (who’s written on plagiarism himself) wrote a book with the title Brothers, We Are Not Professionals. But don’t we act like professionals when we get defensive on this topic of plagiarism? Doesn’t it seem like we’re protecting a celebrity status for pastors by arguing for the punishment of “plagiarizers”? We may insist that using a message preached elsewhere is deceitful, but perhaps the entire premise is flawed. As I’ve laid out here, the reasons we may consider it deceitful may have more to do with the self-glorying of men than God’s honor.

Paul said that the important thing was not whether Christ was preached for envious reasons, just that the message of Christ got out (Phil. 1:15-18). If we keep that in mind, isn’t everything else spurious?

{Image: Evangelist Billy Sunday, whose own ministry was rocked by accusations of plagiarism}

In the Eye of the Beheld

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God couldn’t have filled a woman with more admirable traits than Cassie possessed. She cooked like Julia Child. Entertained others as well as Martha Stewart. She had a faith as big as Corrie Ten Boom’s. She lived every word from Elisabeth Elliot’s books on womanhood. In short, she would have made the perfect wife.

I suspect she’s still waiting for that gold ring, though.

You see, to call Cassie “pretty” would have confused Webster. No heads swiveled when she walked by. Young guys on Sunday never anxiously dropped the question, “Have you seen Cassie in church today?”

No, Cassie wasn’t blessed with the one thing so many men crave above all else: physical beauty.

Cassie loved me. I didn’t return “those feelings,” though. Sure, her dowry of other fabulous qualities overflowed, but I could never get past the fact that she wasn’t physically beautiful.

I lost track of her years ago.

Looking back, I probably had two or three other Cassies in my single days, girls whose hearts would have leapt if I asked them out.  Fact is, each was a better person than I could ever hope to be.

I turned 44 last week. In thinking over my life, I realized I’d done all those Cassies wrong. I love my wife immensely, don’t misunderstand me. I had my 25th high school reunion and I can say with confidence that despite all the gorgeous girls in my high school back in the early Eighties, at the reunion my wife eclipsed them all. I’m very fortunate to have married a physically beautiful woman.

But I still dealt poorly with Cassie. Only now do I realize that the one thing Cassie was missing in her life was a real flesh and blood Christian man to tell her she was beautiful.

Time has a way of giving us room to think. As I look around this country and witness the Girls Gone Wild culture that threatens to tear our social fabric apart, I can’t help but think that most of those girls are dying on the inside. Why? Because they simply don’t believe they’re beautiful because no man they respect has ever told them so.

I don’t know what dads are doing at home that they turn out these shattered girls. Either dad doesn’t tell his daughter she’s beautiful, or he doesn’t command enough respect for his word to mean anything. Melancholy girlAnd we all know the story: If a girl doesn’t get admiration from her closest male relatives, she’s going to search for it elsewhere. And elsewhere isn’t always a nice place.

Ultimately, in our churches, the fault lies with Christian men of all ages. I perpetually hear how men in the church are bored. Yet when our young people are getting mugged by the world, where are all those Christian men? If we’re supposed to be the image of Christ, what are we saying about Him by our silence?

I can’t imagine what it does for a young woman to hear from a Christian man she respects, “God made you beautiful.” I don’t think there’s enough of that candor in our churches today. I think a lot of young women are dying to hear that they’re beautiful, but for whatever reason they never hear it. Or they hear it from the wrong people.

It’s sad to me that we’ve fouled this up so badly. Whether we can ever redeem this lack in our churches without it seeming “weird” is a question I can’t answer. Perhaps the older men in the church could pull this off without it being judged inappropriate. I don’t know. All I do know is that young women today simply aren’t hearing it enough from the right people.

Cassie needed to hear she was beautiful. No, she’d never be confused for Miss America. But how did we ever get to a point that her other traits garnered her no accolades? If we looked in her eyes, could we not find the beauty of God?

No doubt Cassie stayed true to the Lord, even when the rest of us didn’t give her the time of day. Still, I’ve got to believe that plenty of young women not as devout as Cassie would have found a word or two said in their favor to be all they needed to keep from straying.

I’m not sure that we cherish our young Christian women as much as we should. Few of us men stand in the gap for them. We don’t pray for them and their families. We don’t keep a watch out for them. We don’t build them up as we should.

Is there a young woman in your church who gets overlooked? Someone needs to tell her she’s loved and appreciated. Someone needs to encourage her to use her gifts for the Lord.

Someone may even need to tell her she’s beautiful.

“She Just Quit”

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On the heels of “An Island Never Cries” and “Jesus Christ, Lord of Empathy,” I’m ending the week with another writer’s work. An anonymous commenter at Milton Stanley’s blog Transforming Sermons clued me in on Steven Clark Goad’s “She Just Quit.” I offer it to you as fodder for thinking. This Sunday, as you gather with others in your church, ask yourself who might be a Barbara Smith.

Again, read the whole thing. And God help us if we’re not in tears by the time we read the last sentence.