Golden Moments Report

Ecclesiastes 5:1-7 — "Guard Your Steps: How We Come Into the Presence of God"

Golden Moment #1: The Elevator and the Queen

"Queen Elizabeth was taken there and normally she would walk up this body of stairs to get up to the area where the House of Lords was. But as she was aging, the decision was made at rather the last moment that maybe it would be better to ride her up in an elevator instead... And when the doors opened, there was a cleaning lady who had a trolley of cleaning supplies. And without knowing who was in the elevator, she just kind of shoved her way in. And she said in her nice British accent, 'Budge up.' She got in there with her cleaning trolley and the doors shut and she looked around and saw who she was in the elevator with. And the story is she let out an expletive at that point... And according to the story, the queen later invited her to come to Buckingham Palace and enjoy tea with her."

Why this moment works: The story earns the sermon's central question — how do we come into the presence of royalty? — before the text is even opened. The humor and surprise of the cleaning lady's reaction makes the illustration instantly memorable, and the queen's gracious response adds a theological undercurrent: the King of Kings also invites the unprepared into his presence. The setup is patient and well-paced, giving the congregation time to inhabit the scene.

Rhetorically effective: This is a textbook example of an opening illustration that earns its application. The pivot from earthly royalty to the King of Kings lands with real weight precisely because the story was told so fully. The contrast — "most of us aren't likely to be in the presence of earthly royalty, but we have all come today because we desire to be in the presence of the King of Kings" — is a clean, powerful turn that frames the entire sermon.

Why congregants will share it: People will retell this story at lunch. The image of a cleaning lady with a trolley saying "budge up" to the Queen of England is the kind of specific, vivid detail that travels. And because the illustration is tied directly to the sermon's thesis, when they retell it, they'll retell the sermon's core idea with it.

Golden Moment #2: The Food Critic vs. The Hungry Man

"When it comes to church, we don't come to critique, we come to eat. There's a difference between a food critic and a hungry man. You ever been around a hungry person? You ever been hungry? Of course you have. You just — if it's halfway good, you're fine. You're hungry, right? I took a bunch of teenage boys one time... We got them good and hungry. We ran them around a little bit and then took them up. I think the place went bankrupt afterwards... They're not going, 'Well, the chicken fingers are a little seasoned.' No, no, it doesn't matter. You can pick them off the floor. It doesn't matter. They're hungry. There's a difference between people who are hungry and people who are just wanting to be entertained."

Why this moment works: This is the sermon's most memorable turn of phrase, and it's earned by a perfectly timed illustration. The contrast between "food critic" and "hungry man" is the kind of binary that immediately clarifies what Solomon is calling for in verse one. The teenage boys story is laugh-out-loud funny and completely relatable — and it makes the application land without feeling preachy.

Pastorally wise: This moment addresses one of the most persistent and damaging postures in church attendance — the consumer critic — without shaming anyone. By framing it through hunger rather than judgment, the pastor invites people to examine their own hearts rather than feel accused. That's a pastoral instinct that keeps the congregation open rather than defensive.

Why congregants will share it: "We don't come to critique, we come to eat" is a sentence people will write down and repeat. It's quotable, it's true, and it reframes something familiar in a way that surprises. The food critic / hungry man contrast is the kind of phrase that ends up in small group conversations, text messages, and personal journals.

Golden Moment #3: C.S. Lewis and the Screwtape Letters

"The trick is to make worship a running commentary on the congregation and by implication on how superior he is to the rest of them... Whenever they are attending to the enemy himself — that is worship, we are defeated. But there are ways of preventing them from doing so. The simplest is to turn their gaze away from him, towards themselves. Keep them watching their own minds and trying to produce feelings there by action of their own wills. Then worship becomes 'did I feel it' instead of 'is God here?'... The search for a suitable church makes the man a critic when the enemy wants him to be a pupil."

Why this moment works: The Screwtape Letters is one of the most effective tools in the history of Christian preaching for exposing spiritual self-deception, and this pastor uses it surgically. By letting Lewis speak in the demon's voice, the moment carries an almost comedic horror — the congregation hears their own tendencies described by a fictional adversary, which is far more convicting than a direct rebuke would be.

Theologically sound: The three excerpts chosen are perfectly sequenced: first, the temptation to critique others; second, the temptation to turn inward during worship; third, the temptation to church-shop until you become a consumer. Together they form a complete diagnosis of distracted worship — which is exactly what Ecclesiastes 5 is warning against. The Lewis material doesn't decorate the text; it illuminates it.

Why congregants will share it: "Worship becomes 'did I feel it' instead of 'is God here?'" is a diagnostic question that will stay with people for years. It names something many Christians have experienced but never had language for. People who have drifted through seasons of hollow church attendance will feel seen — and called back — by this moment.

Golden Moment #4: The Pharisee, the Tax Collector, and the Fewest Words

"The Pharisee had a lot of words. He was standing and he had a lot of words. He said, 'God, I thank you that I'm not like this tax collector. I thank you that I'm not like the greedy, the unrighteous, the adulterers. I fast twice a week.' He went on and on and on and on. A lot of words, a lot of words, a lot of speeches. But there was a second guy on the back row... he said, 'God have mercy upon me, a sinner.' That's all he said. Not a lot of words. That's not a fancy prayer, is it? God have mercy on me. You thought he could come up with something better. No, no, only a few words. God have mercy on me, a sinner. And you know what Jesus said? That's the guy who went home right with God, not the guy with all the words."

Why this moment works: This is the sermon's most effective piece of biblical exposition. The pastor retells the parable with enough dramatic contrast to make it feel fresh, then lands the punchline — "that's the guy who went home right with God" — with the simplicity it deserves. The rhetorical aside, "You thought he could come up with something better," is a small touch that makes the moment feel conversational and alive.

Theologically sound: The connection between Solomon's warning about "many words" and Jesus' parable of the Pharisee and tax collector is exegetically strong. It shows the through-line from wisdom literature to the Gospels — the same God who inspired Ecclesiastes inspired Luke 18, and both are saying the same thing about posture in prayer. This kind of cross-testament coherence builds confidence in the congregation that the Bible speaks with one voice.

Why congregants will share it: "God have mercy on me, a sinner" is already Scripture — but hearing it framed as the simplest, most powerful prayer a person can pray makes it feel newly accessible. People who struggle to pray will leave with permission to pray simply, and that is a gift they will pass on.

Golden Moment #5: The Most Important Thing You Bring

"The sermon may not be perfect. The music may not always be on tune. The program may not always be exactly to your liking. As you've heard me say many times, there is no perfect church. But if you come with a heart, humble, seeking God, that's how you encounter God... You want to know what's most important? That you bring the right heart into this room. That you come with a humble heart. Because let me tell you, if you're seeking the Lord, the song may be a little off tune — never here, never here, but maybe somewhere — it's off tune. You can still praise Jesus. And maybe the preacher wasn't quite on. Maybe he had a hard week or whatever. He has the flu or something... You can still hear from God. The question is, is my heart seeking God or am I just going through the motions?"

Why this moment works: The self-deprecating humor — "never here, never here, but maybe somewhere" — is perfectly deployed. It disarms the congregation, demonstrates genuine humility, and makes the application feel like an invitation rather than a demand. The pastor is essentially saying: even I am not the point. God is the point. That kind of pastoral transparency is rare and effective.

Pastorally wise: This moment does something quietly courageous: it releases the congregation from dependence on the quality of the service and places the responsibility for encounter back on their own hearts. That is a deeply biblical and pastorally freeing move. It also models the very humility the sermon is calling for — the pastor practices what he preaches in real time.

Why congregants will share it: People will remember the preacher saying "maybe the preacher wasn't quite on" — and they'll remember it as the moment they trusted him more. Honest self-awareness from the pulpit travels far. The underlying question — "Is my heart seeking God or am I just going through the motions?" — is one people will carry into every future Sunday morning.

Golden Moment #6: The Three Commitments Every Believer Should Make

"Every one of you should make a commitment to Jesus Christ to worship him and make him the Lord of your life. You should recognize that you're a sinner and you've sinned before God and need forgiveness. But that God sent Jesus Christ into the world, his one and only son, the Lord, who lived a perfect life and died on the cross in our place. And God raised him from the dead and exalted him on high so that whoever believes in the name of the Lord will be saved. And there needs to be a time in your life where you turn from your sin, ask God for forgiveness, and make a commitment to Jesus to be the Lord of your life. Have you made that vow? Have you made that confession? You should make a commitment to God's people. You should make a commitment to a church body, a congregation, and say, 'I want to be in covenant with these people. I want to serve here. I want to give here. I want to plant my life here.'"

Why this moment works: This is the sermon's clearest and most direct call to response, and it flows naturally from the text's warning about vows made and broken. The pastor moves from salvation to community without a seam — which is theologically correct and pastorally important. The phrase "plant my life here" carries genuine weight: it's not asking for attendance, it's asking for rootedness.

Theologically sound: The gospel summary embedded here — incarnation, perfect life, substitutionary death, resurrection, exaltation, and call to repentance and faith — is compact but complete. It doesn't cut corners. And connecting the gospel call to the call for church commitment reflects a robust ecclesiology: salvation is personal, but discipleship is communal. That's a distinction many preachers miss.

Why congregants will share it: "Plant my life here" is the kind of language that reframes church membership from obligation to belonging. People who have been floating on the edges of church life will feel the weight of that phrase. And the clarity of the gospel presentation — simple enough to repeat, complete enough to trust — gives believers a model for sharing their faith in their own words this week.

A Final Word to the Pastor

The greatest strength of this sermon is its seamless movement between illustration and application. You never illustrate just to entertain — every story, every quote, every humorous aside is load-bearing. The food critic, the teenage boys, the cleaning lady in the elevator, the Screwtape Letters — each one carries theological weight and lands the text's meaning more clearly than a direct explanation would. That is a preaching gift worth naming and developing further.

The thread that ties these six moments together is posture. Every golden moment, in its own way, is about how we position ourselves before God — whether we come hungry or critical, humble or verbose, committed or casual. Ecclesiastes 5 gave you a framework, and you inhabited it fully. The sermon didn't just explain what Solomon said; it embodied it.

The instinct you should continue leaning into is your willingness to be honest about yourself from the pulpit. The moment where you said "maybe the preacher wasn't quite on" — and kept preaching — was one of the most effective things you did. That kind of transparency builds trust faster than polished delivery ever could. Congregations follow pastors they believe are telling the truth about themselves. Keep doing that.

This is faithful, well-crafted preaching — biblically grounded, pastorally warm, and genuinely memorable. The people who sat under this message left with more than information. They left with a question — is my heart seeking God or am I just going through the motions? — that will follow them into the week. That's the mark of a sermon that does its work long after Sunday is over.