Golden Moments Report: "So Help Me God"

Ordination Sermon by Pastor Eric Gable

Golden Moment #1: The Oath as Sermon Frame

"Life is all about the law. The law plays a vital role in our lives. It shapes and guides our society. The law protects us. But it also condemns us when it fails to act as a deterrent for the unlawful. It holds us accountable for our actions. It is meant to regulate our shared activities and to create for us a mutual fair and just community where we can coexist peacefully and pursue our endeavors. That's how man's law is supposed to operate. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. When it doesn't, we seek to make new laws to correct the failed ones. Then there is God's law. God's law is already perfect. It has been perfect since the foundation of the world he created. It is we who are flawed."

Why this moment works: Pastor Gable opens his theological argument by grounding it in something universally understood — the function of law in human society — before making a clean, sharp turn toward divine law. The contrast is crisp and the logic is accessible. He gives the congregation a ladder to climb before asking them to stand on unfamiliar theological ground.

Theologically sound: The distinction between human law (correctable, imperfect, iterative) and God's law (perfect, fixed, revealing) is a foundational Reformed insight, and Pastor Gable lands it without technical jargon. This sets up the entire sermon's courtroom metaphor with intellectual integrity — the law doesn't just condemn, it reveals the gap between what we are and what God requires.

Why congregants will share it: The line "We seek to make new laws to correct the failed ones" is the kind of observation that makes people nod and think simultaneously. It captures something true about human institutions that immediately makes God's unchanging law feel more weighty by contrast. People will repeat this setup in conversation because it explains something they already know in a way they haven't heard before.

Golden Moment #2: Sin Is in the DNA

"Paul says we are all under God's law and therefore we are all guilty. There is no sense trying to make a case for your innocence. We've already been sentenced by the judge. God's law has hushed the mouth of every human since Adam. Mankind has failed in his quest for perfection. So sin is all we know. It's in our DNA. Paul said that the things I shouldn't do, I do. Those things that I shouldn't do, those are the things I do. And I understood as I was reading that Paul was still doing something. Paul was still involved in something. Because why would he say those things I shouldn't do that I do? He was still doing something, y'all."

Why this moment works: The move from doctrinal statement to close reading of Paul's text is genuinely exegetical. Pastor Gable doesn't just quote Romans 7 — he notices something in the grammar and repetition of Paul's confession, and he invites the congregation to notice it with him. That "he was still doing something, y'all" lands like a punchline with theological weight behind it.

Rhetorically effective: The repetition of "those things I shouldn't do, I do" mimics Paul's own rhetorical spiral in Romans 7, and Pastor Gable uses that spiral intentionally. He's not just describing Paul's struggle — he's performing it, letting the congregation feel the trap before he opens the door of grace. This is skilled homiletical craft.

Why congregants will share it: "Sin is in our DNA" is a memorable, modern restatement of total depravity that doesn't sound like a seminary lecture. Paired with the observation about Paul still being "involved in something," it creates a moment of honest laughter that disarms defensiveness. People will quote both lines because they're true and they're funny in the right way.

Golden Moment #3: The Personal Testimony of Surrender

"I ran from God a whole lot of years because I needed to be perfect. I felt I needed to be perfect. I was a farmer. I was an entertainer and God blessed me to have this great life as an entertainer. I was around supermodels, actresses, champagne and limousines living the best life I could possibly live. But I didn't know until April 6, 2006, in the Embassy Suites Hotel in Baton Rouge, God said enough is enough. And I cried for three days and three nights. The Holy Spirit jumped on me every night. I was trying to go back. And I said, 'No, that's it.' Until I threw up my hands and said, 'Lord, all right, that's it. I give it up.' And look at me now, y'all."

Why this moment works: This is the sermon's most vulnerable moment, and Pastor Gable earns it by being specific. He doesn't offer a vague testimony of "I was in the world" — he names the date, the hotel, the city, and the duration of the wrestling. Specificity is credibility, and credibility is the currency of pastoral testimony.

Pastorally wise: This moment is perfectly placed. He's speaking to newly ordained ministers who will face their own seasons of running, hiding, and wrestling. By confessing his own extended flight from God — not before conversion but after his call — he normalizes the struggle without excusing it. The message to these men is clear: God's patience outlasted my resistance, and it will outlast yours too.

Why congregants will share it: "Look at me now, y'all" is the kind of line that carries a whole testimony in four words. The contrast between champagne and limousines and standing in a pulpit to ordain ministers is so vivid that people will tell this story to others. It's the kind of testimony that travels.

Golden Moment #4: The Courtroom Reversal

"You were guilty of sin. The judge says the penalty for your sin is eternal death. But the same judge waved the penalty. How did he do it? He put all of it on Jesus. He convicted his own Son for your sins and mine. He should have been us hanging on that cross. But the judge overruled sin's objectionable behavior by making his own Son pay the price — one we could not pay and one he did not owe. Have you ever willingly taken the blame for something you didn't do? It's inherently unfair. Being wrongly accused or punished feels like a deep injustice. But for starters, my brothers and sisters, it's inherently unfair. And yet that is exactly what Christ did."

Why this moment works: This is the theological center of the sermon, and Pastor Gable delivers it with the precision of a closing argument. The courtroom metaphor has been building for the entire message, and here it pays off completely. The phrase "one we could not pay and one he did not owe" is the sermon's most quotable theological line — compact, rhythmic, and doctrinally exact.

Theologically sound: This is substitutionary atonement preached with clarity and pastoral warmth. Pastor Gable doesn't use the technical term, but he explains the mechanism precisely: guilt transferred, penalty absorbed, justice satisfied through a willing substitute. The rhetorical question about taking blame for something you didn't do makes the injustice of the cross feel visceral rather than abstract.

Why congregants will share it: "One we could not pay and one he did not owe" will be repeated in conversations, written in journals, and possibly preached by some of the newly ordained ministers sitting in that room. It's the kind of phrase that sticks because it's true, it's tight, and it says in ten words what theologians have taken pages to explain.

Golden Moment #5: Fight That Flesh

"There is therefore now no condemnation for them which are in Christ Jesus who walk not after the flesh but after the spirit. Every now and then, my dear brothers, your flesh is going to creep up into a situation, especially when you're preparing to preach the word of God. Especially when you're preparing to serve on God's table. Something is going to occur in your life that tries to turn you around. But I want you to fight that flesh and walk in the spirit. I want you to fight that flesh and walk in the glory of God. I want you to fight that flesh and walk in the light of God. I want you to fight that flesh and walk in the power of God. I want you to fight that flesh and walk in the spirit of God. And with that, Christ paved the path for our freedom."

Why this moment works: The anaphora — "fight that flesh and walk in the..." — is a masterclass in oral preaching technique. Each repetition builds slightly, adding a new attribute of God (glory, light, power, spirit) while the command stays constant. This is not decorative repetition; it's repetition that accumulates meaning with each pass.

Rhetorically effective: Pastor Gable anchors this moment directly to Romans 8:1, making the application feel exegetically grounded rather than motivational. He's not just cheering the ministers on — he's telling them that the same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead is the resource available to them when their flesh rises. The theology drives the exhortation.

Why congregants will share it: The "fight that flesh" sequence is the kind of rhythmic exhortation that gets preached again — by the very ministers being ordained that night. It's memorable, it's actionable, and it names something every minister knows to be true: the hardest moments of spiritual attack often come right before the most important moments of ministry.

Golden Moment #6: The Indescribable Christ

"Pastor Luda, I wish I could describe him to you, but he's indescribable. He's incomprehensible. He's invincible and irresistible. You can't get him out of your mind. You can't wash him off your hands. You can't outlive him and you can't live without him. He's Adam's redeemer. He's Abel's vindicator. He's Abraham's sacrifice. He's Ezekiel's wheel in the middle of a wheel. He's Nehemiah's wall. He's Matthew's king. He's Noah's ark. The heaven declares the glory of God and the firmament shows his handiwork. He's enduringly strong, intensely sincere, eternally steadfast, immortally graceful, impurely powerful, and partially merciful. He's the greatest phenomenon that ever crossed the horizon of this world."

Why this moment works: This is the sermon's doxological climax — the moment where argument gives way to adoration. Pastor Gable moves through biblical typology (Adam, Abel, Abraham, Ezekiel, Nehemiah, Matthew, Noah) with the fluency of someone who has lived in the text. Each name is a compressed sermon in itself, and the rapid-fire succession creates a cumulative portrait of Christ that no single image could achieve alone.

Theologically sound: The biblical catalogue of Christ's names and types is not mere oratory — it's a theological argument. By tracing Christ through the whole canon, Pastor Gable demonstrates that Jesus is not a New Testament addition but the thread running through every book. This is Christocentric biblical theology preached at full volume.

Why congregants will share it: "You can't get him out of your mind. You can't wash him off your hands. You can't outlive him and you can't live without him." These four lines will be quoted, posted, and preached again. They have the compression and rhythm of a creed — and the warmth of someone speaking from personal experience, not academic distance.

A Final Word to the Pastor

Pastor Gable, your greatest strength in this sermon is your ability to hold the legal and the lyrical in the same hand. You built a rigorous courtroom argument — guilty as charged, objection overruled, final verdict — and then, when the structure had done its work, you set it down and simply described Jesus. That transition from prosecutor to poet is not easy, and you made it feel natural. That is a genuine gift.

The thread running through every golden moment in this sermon is the word help — specifically, "so help me God." You took a phrase most people associate with courtroom oaths and turned it into a theology of grace: we cannot help ourselves, the law cannot help us, and so God helped us by helping himself to our guilt and giving us his righteousness. That is a sophisticated theological argument delivered in the language of a neighborhood conversation. That is rare.

The instinct you should keep leaning into is your willingness to be specific. April 6, 2006. Embassy Suites Hotel. Baton Rouge. Three days and three nights. You didn't soften your testimony into vagueness — you named it. That specificity is what makes people believe you, trust you, and receive what comes after. Do not trade that for polish.

You came home to ordain men who will spend their lives in pulpits, and you gave them a sermon worth preaching again. The best thing you can do for them now is keep preaching like yourself — with the law in one hand, the gospel in the other, and your own story running underneath it all as proof that both are true.