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As he approached the lectern, his diminutive stature and gaunt complexion belied the fervor of his upcoming address, his large head sat on top of his emancipated body as frail as a spider’s web; only his eyes betrayed the heavenly fires burning at his core. Soon, another imperial decree would eject him from his episcopate at Constantinople for the final time. But, his message never changed. He preached Christ and the need for a life utterly in submission to His Lordship. His preferred perch was not the bishop’s throne traditionally used for sermons, but the lectern, distinctively closer to his congregation. His voice was weak. But, more strategically, he preferred the intimate position of this station, so he could directly look into the eyes of his congregation, if not, seemingly their souls.
Later generations dubbed him John Chrysostom or John the golden mouthed for his oratorical oeuvre. If John’s mouth was golden, then the refining began in the fiery billows of his soul, a furnace stoked and then set ablaze by his scriptural devotion and ascetic rigor in the wind-whipped mountains of Syria. His presentation style complemented the golden leafed cathedrals of Constantinople, his interpretative method revealed his Antiochian roots, and his biblical content seared the consciences of his hearers. Every sermon still smolders with white-hot biblical truths set hissing and cracking forth through his golden lips by the scorching winds of his monastic memories. But, for us to understand the passion driving John’s sermons, we must look past his explosive preaching, to the powder keg of his life. Then, we will see his golden talents, his solid hermeneutics, and piercing applications all as trinkets, when compared to his inner man, a masterpiece hewn by the word of Christ. Once a firebrand in Satan’s hearth, now a hardened tool tempered by the celestial hammer and fire in the Lord’s forgery. Oh, how the first sparks flew at Antioch!
Shortly after John’s birth in 349, his father Sekoundos died, leaving his devoutly Christian mother Anthousa to raise him alone in Antioch. Despite the stigma of widowhood in the cosmopolitan city, she refused to remarry. Instead, she steadfastly clung to Christ and focused on providing for her son. John’s teacher later commented on her fortitude, saying, “Great heavens, what remarkable women are to be found among the Christians!” Her presence and daily witness testified to all of God’s faithfulness and provision in times of weakness.
During his school years, John likely professed Christ, but blew only worldly smoke. He was a cultural Christian. In a city of many cultural Christians, all boasting of the fame of Antioch: they housed the first Gentile church, they were first called Christians, and they received the great teachings of Paul and Barnabas. The city was also known for a pleasure seeking culture, penchant for horse races, and lewd stage shows. John’s self-assured Christianity and passions led him down the marble main street of Antioch and straight into worldly pleasures. He immensely enjoyed attending the law courts, analyzing the cases and admiring the attorneys. He loved the debauched and degrading spectacles of the theater. Inevitably, his fascinations and talents soon turned to the delivery of imperial pronouncements, a coveted civil position. John wanted to herald Caesar’s commandments. With an eye to this civil work, he diligently labored and finished his studies under Libanios, a pagan rhetorician and orator of Antiochian renown.
Upon his graduation in 367, his characteristic zeal, self-assertiveness, and talent naturally brought him to the top of his class. But, his graduation also brought a stark change in his gravitas for the Christian faith. The talented student rebelled against his teacher and predicted occupation. Thus, bringing Libanios in 393, when questioned, shortly before his death, to whom should succeed him, exclaimed, “It ought to have been John had not the Christians stolen him from us.” But, John had not been stolen; he narrowly escaped. Self admittedly, he was drowning in a deluge of worldliness, constantly “attending the law courts” and incessantly “in a flutter of excitement about the pleasures of the stage.” But, by God’s power, the prayers of his faithful mother, the help of his Christian friend Basil, and the guidance of bishop Meletios he genuinely embraced the Christian faith and offered himself for baptism on Easter 368. Now, his course changed from proclaiming the laws of men to preaching the laws of God. The fuse was lit.
In his pamphlet Against the Enemies of Monasticism, John writes, “True wisdom and true education consist only in the fear of God.” So, perhaps John’s true education began after his plunge into the baptismal waters. The energy he once wantonly expended on the fickle causes of his heart, he now refocused solely on Christ. He forced every fiber of his tumultuous heart and intense character in submission to the Lord.
After serving his mentor bishop Meletios and studying ascetics under the monk Diodore for three years, tides began to change. The winds of war drove Emperor Valens to make his permanent home in Antioch in the late autumn of 371. Thereby, forcing the notorious bishop, who stayed in the city in defiance of the Emperor’s spring decree of 365, to revaluate his post. On the wings of the news of Meletios impending flight, John and Basil received another unwelcomed warning. The church intended to ordain them- by force! Basil the consummate friend looked to John for advice. Overwhelmed by the prospect, John tricked Basil into ordination and shortly thereafter fled into the Syrian wilderness to begin a seven-year monastic devotion.
What exactly transpired in John’s mind to conceive of this plan we will never know. But, we can read John’s apologia for the incident titled On the Priesthood, in which he writes, “For I fear lest if I took the flock in hand when it was in good condition and well nourished, and then wasted it through my unskillfulness, I should provoke against myself the God who so loved the flock as to give Himself up for their salvation and ransom.” Nearly a decade before John preached his first sermon, he possessed the preacher’s greatest tool: a real, felt, tangible fear of God. But, John was not a fool. He understood his magnetic personality, stunning oratorical skill, and ability to teach; equally he must have recognized his glaring flaws. Certainly, he felt himself as the greatest enemy to his faith. So, he fled into the Syrian mountains, where he would wrestle his heart into submission to God, by memorizing much of the Bible and practicing a dangerous and misguided asceticism with physically debilitating results. God’s word and the uninhabited wilderness broke both his mind and spirit. Years later, he returned tired, sick, and emancipated with his digestive track forever compromised. But, he was ready to deliver God’s word with power, fully yielded to His spirit, to the churches of the Eastern Roman Empire.
After his return from the wilderness, the burning fuse reached the powder keg- the word of God preached. John would explosively preach to both God’s glory and critical acclaim. First, in Antioch for 10 years with his secretive departure causing a citywide riot. Then, he would serve as the bishop of Constantinople governing the most powerful see of the Eastern Church. But, he never stopped preaching. And, despite his golden style, he always delivered the truth with bluntness and a jarring effect. He decried the empress Eudoxia for her vanity, contrasting her golden cords to the bonds of Paul. In her presence, he noted, if both the empress and apostle chanced to enter the church at the same time, all would look to Paul for he was bedecked with heavenly fineries. He often offended his upper class listeners with graphic illustrations and the occasional gross scatological term, saying, “One man is hungry, another gets drunk; one man defecates in a silver pot, another has not so much as a crust of bread.” He brought kings to their knees with the sovereignty of God, describing the futility of Theodosius army battling against Maximus in 385, when compared to the overwhelming strength and assurance of victory in God’s answer to his prayer. Nor, did he shy away from condemning the corruptions of the church, chiding, "The road to Hell is paved with the bones of priests and monks, and the skulls of bishops are the lamp posts that light the path." No one escaped the biblical fervor of John. He held to biblical orthodoxy in the face of invading armies, refusing to concede one iota of God’s word. And, he relentlessly railed against the theaters, horse races, and false philosophies, which nearly brought his boyhood demise. Earthly authorities held no sway over the iron willed bishop for he knew the greater power of God and he wielded it through his preaching.
John’s preaching preserved cities, condemned kings, and saved thousands, all with an inspired eloquence, but first God prepared his heart to deliver the message. May we all find ourselves like John, not in our preaching for few will reach his extemporaneous heights, not in our hermeneutical techniques for Koine Greek was his mother tongue, not in our applications for his devastated pauper and prince, not in our audiences for he spoke to the absolute monarchs of the known world, but in our spirit! God does not grant his gift to the proud hearted. Many know of John for his natural giftedness, may we now all see him for his spiritual brokenness. The spirit empowered his preaching and preceded from his inner most bowels, fanning the flames of God’s word- a hot coal resting on his golden tongue.
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