Dem Bones and the Invitation

by Edward T. Rangel

Every once in a while, the question comes up, the opinions make their usual rounds on social media, everybody gets their two cents in, and then the subject disappears again until “dem bones” are resurrected a few months or years later.

Well, dem bones are rattling again.

What is the topic this time?

Should we end a sermon with an invitation?

Should we or shouldn’t we? Is it valuable or not? Is it just a tradition we inherited? Is it really nothing more than our version of the old mourner’s bench or altar call? Is the invitation something we tack onto the end of a sermon because that is what we have always done?

When somebody responds, are they responding out of genuine conviction or because the preacher worked them over emotionally? Does somebody have to wait until the Sunday sermon is finished and the invitation song begins before obeying the gospel?

And if none of that is required, why offer an invitation at all?

Whew!

That is a lot of questions. And plenty more have been asked whenever this discussion comes around.

But does it really have to be that complicated?

Anybody with a lick of sense—and a little familiarity with the book of Acts—ought to know that a person does not have to wait until the end of a Sunday morning sermon to obey the gospel.

The Ethiopian did not wait for an invitation song. When Philip “preached Jesus to him,” they came to some water and the man said, “Look! Water! What prevents me from being baptized?” (Acts 8:35–36).

The jailer at Philippi did not wait until Sunday morning. He heard the word of the Lord and “immediately he was baptized, he and all his household” (Acts 16:32–33). And it happened sometime after midnight!

Those who heard Peter on Pentecost did not wait for Peter to finish a three-point sermon and announce the number of the invitation hymn. They were “pierced to the heart” and interrupted with a question: “Brethren, what shall we do?” (Acts 2:37). Peter told them what to do, and about three thousand gladly received the word and were baptized (Acts 2:38–41).

So no, there is nothing sacred about waiting until the end of a sermon.

There is no commandment that says, “Thou shalt stand while we sing the invitation song.”

There is no divinely prescribed number of verses that must be sung.

There is no requirement that a preacher stand at the front of the auditorium while everybody sings “Just As I Am.”

And there certainly is no reason for somebody who knows he needs to obey the gospel to wait until Sunday. If you understand what you need to do on Tuesday afternoon, then Tuesday afternoon is a mighty fine time to do it. If it is midnight, Acts 16 has already settled that question.

But none of that answers the other question:

Why offer an invitation at the end of a sermon?

Because sometimes people need to be invited.

That is not exactly a foreign concept in Scripture.

Jesus said, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” The one who hears is told to say, “Come.” And the one who is thirsty is invited to “take the water of life without cost” (Revelation 22:17).

The gospel itself contains an appeal. Paul wrote, “We beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God” (II Corinthians 5:20).

That sounds a whole lot like an invitation to me.

Now, there are different kinds of sermons, and not every sermon is evangelistic in nature. Sometimes we are preaching to Christians about marriage, prayer, suffering, leadership, worship, temptation, forgiveness, faithfulness, or any number of other things. It may even be that on a particular Sunday every person sitting in the room is already a Christian.

But even then, who knows what is going on in somebody’s heart?

James wrote, “Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed” (James 5:16).

Maybe somebody has been carrying something alone and needs the prayers of the church.

Maybe somebody has wandered and needs to come home.

Maybe somebody has been wrestling with sin and has finally decided, “I need help.”

Maybe the sermon has exposed something in his life that he can no longer ignore.

Could he ask for help before the sermon? Of course.

Could he ask afterward in private? Certainly.

Could he call the preacher at two o’clock Tuesday afternoon? Absolutely.

But maybe, just maybe, after hearing the Word of God preached, with his brothers and sisters sitting around him and a preacher encouraging him to act on what he has heard, that moment is exactly when he finally decides to do something about it.

Who knows?

So I am not interested in making the invitation into a law God never made.

Every preacher is free to invite or not to invite. He can follow the old traditional practice or do something different. He can offer an invitation after every sermon or decide that a particular sermon calls for another kind of ending.

And I am certainly not going to measure another preacher’s faithfulness by whether he says, “Come forward while together we stand and sing.”

But neither am I going to apologize for offering an invitation.

I, for one, prefer some advice given to me years ago by my preaching mentor, Steve Wolfgang: “Every sermon you preach, make a beeline to the cross.”

That has stuck with me.

Because whether I am preaching from Genesis, Psalms, the Prophets, the Gospels, Acts, or the Epistles, ultimately I am standing before people who need Jesus.

Some need to come to Him.

Some need to come back to Him.

Some need strength to keep following Him.

And all of us need to be reminded why we have any hope at all.

“For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified” (I Corinthians 2:2).

So, must every sermon end with a formal invitation?

No.

Can a person obey the gospel without ever walking down an aisle?

Of course.

Can a Christian ask for prayers without waiting for an invitation song?

Absolutely.

Is the traditional invitation commanded as a particular form?

No.

But is there anything wrong with looking people in the eye after preaching the Word of God and saying, “If you need to obey the Lord, if you need to come home, if you need the prayers of your brothers and sisters, don’t leave here carrying something you could bring to Christ”?

Not one blessed thing.

Call it tradition if you want.

I call it giving people one more opportunity to respond to the Word they have just heard.

And as long as I am preaching, I reckon I can spare another minute to point somebody toward the cross.