If in preaching the gospel you substitute your knowledge of the

The words of Oswald Chambers—“If in preaching the gospel you substitute your knowledge of the way of salvation for confidence in the power of the gospel, you hinder people from getting to reality.”—resound like a clarion call to all who claim to guide others in the path of truth. Chambers, a man of deep devotion and spiritual clarity, here warns of a subtle but deadly danger: the replacing of knowledge with pride, the lifting up of human wisdom above the living power of the gospel itself. He reminds us that truth is not merely a set of ideas to be explained, but a living reality to be trusted, experienced, and embraced.

To preach the gospel is not simply to recite doctrines or to wield theology as though it were a sword of debate. The gospel is not imprisoned in words, nor does its strength lie in clever explanation. Its power flows from the Spirit, from the life and death and resurrection of Christ Himself. When one substitutes human knowledge for divine power, they dim the flame, they place a veil over the light, they hinder the very encounter that sets the heart aflame. Chambers, in his plain yet piercing way, declares that such substitution is no small error—it is a stumbling block between souls and the living God.

The ancients knew this temptation well. The Apostle Paul, in writing to the Corinthians, declared, “My speech and my preaching were not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power.” Here is the very root of Chambers’ teaching. Paul was a man of great learning, yet he refused to make his knowledge the foundation of salvation. He pointed instead to the power of the gospel, which works not through eloquence but through the Spirit’s touch upon the heart. In this humility lies the true strength of preaching.

History offers us a vivid example in the life of John Wesley. Learned, disciplined, and devout, Wesley preached faithfully for years, yet without fire. He was filled with knowledge of God, but he himself later confessed that he lacked assurance, that his heart had not yet been kindled by the reality of the gospel’s power. It was not until that fateful night on Aldersgate Street, when his heart was “strangely warmed” by the Spirit, that his ministry became truly alive. From then onward, his words bore fruit, not because of his knowledge alone, but because of the reality of the gospel burning through him.

This, then, is Chambers’ warning: that we must not mistake the map for the journey, nor the teaching for the truth itself. To speak about salvation is not the same as to offer salvation. To know about God is not the same as to know God. If we trust more in our ability to explain than in God’s ability to transform, we rob others of the encounter with reality. We may win arguments, but we lose souls.

The lesson is clear and urgent. First, we must hold knowledge humbly, as a servant, never as a master. Second, we must place our confidence not in ourselves but in the living power of God. Third, we must remember that the aim of all preaching, all teaching, all ministry is not admiration of the messenger, but transformation of the hearer. We are but vessels; the treasure is the gospel itself.

So, O seeker and teacher alike, take this charge to heart. Do not labor to shine by your wisdom, but to be transparent, that the light of Christ may pass through you unclouded. Trust the power of the gospel more than your own words. Live in such a way that when people hear you, they are not struck by your knowledge but by the reality of God. For as Chambers reminds us, to substitute self for Spirit is to hinder; but to yield self to Spirit is to unleash the truth that sets men free. And in that truth lies life eternal.