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The expositional teaching of Scripture is the main diet of a healthy church. As it unpacks the Bible and points to Christ, this kind of teaching brings a host of goods to bear on the life of God’s people.

We know many of the benefits of expositional teaching, practiced by a godly shepherd. It holds high the word of God in the gathered church. It exposes believers to the whole counsel of God. It trains us to read Scripture in context. It guards us from error. It limits the preacher’s personal soapboxes. It feeds us hard truths we might rather ignore. It honors the every-word inspiration of the Scriptures. Like a garden in springtime, its fruits are many, and diverse.

But there’s one more rich benefit of expositional teaching that’s deeply personal. This benefit is so private that it’s rarely talked about. In fact, this benefit is experienced by just one person in the entire process—the preacher himself.

For seven years, I had the privilege of serving as the primary teaching pastor at BridgePoint Bible Church in Houston. From the beginning, I made it my foundational ambition to practice sequential expositional preaching on Sunday mornings—teaching verse by verse through an entire book of the Bible. We began with Titus, soon moved to Ezra, and over the years enjoyed the Sermon on the Mount, Haggai, Philippians, 1 Peter, and finally, the Gospel of Matthew.

There were thematic series along the way—a vision series, the fruit of the Spirit, abiding in Christ, spiritual disciplines. These were important, fruitful, and legitimate ways to teach the Scriptures, and we sought to apply the same interpretive principles to these topical series as we did with our whole-book series.

But sequential expository preaching was always the core commitment.

This meant that I spent a thousand hours each year immersed in sequential texts of Scripture, excavating the Bible as the Bible excavated me. For example, in my final three years, I spent twenty hours each week engrossed in the first half of Matthew’s gospel. Now that I’m no longer a teaching pastor, I’m realizing afresh just how precious those hours were to my soul, and how grateful I am that an entire church, staff, and elder team granted me those hours.

Every Sunday night or Monday afternoon, I sat down with a fresh text of Scripture. Every week, I dug into its glories, its mysteries, its tensions, and its stunning connections across the biblical story, culminating in Christ. Every week, I endured the mental turmoil of a teacher laboring to clear his own clouds of confusion in order to offer clarity from the pulpit. Every week, I stared into my own deep deficiencies, exposed by the holy light of God’s word. Every week, I fell afresh on the mercies of Christ, who alone could purify me like Isaiah, and make me his messenger.

In the Gospel of Matthew, most recently, I had this weekly privilege: to encounter the living Christ in one of his four authorized biographies. From his origin story to his public arrival to his dawning announcement. From his mercy to his miracles to his messianic claims. From his power to his compassion to his profound teaching. From Bethlehem to Egypt, from Nazareth to Capernaum, from Galilee to Jerusalem, I followed his every move.

I watched, stunned, as I dug into his family history. I listened intently as heaven thundered its approval at his baptism. I watched as he ascended a new mountain as a new Moses with a new law. I saw him come down to touch lepers, rebuke fevers, and silence a woman’s public shame with a public word of dignity. I watched his bar fights with demonic forces drunk on human suffering. I sat in the war room as he commissioned his disciples to spread his messianic ministry across the hills and around the world.

I got to sit with these stories. I got to walk with the Messiah.

I look back now and marvel at Jesus’ ministry to my soul: I was fed by his words, silenced by his power, blown back by his bluntness, brought in by his mercy, and made sane by his ministry. Every week, I was brought to tears in wonder, and brought to my knees in worship.

I say all of that to say this: If you have the privilege of fresh-prep teaching God’s word on a regular basis, whether on weekends or weekdays, to dozens or thousands, in the haze of an early morning study or the weariness of a weeknight meeting, I want to help you recalculate the remarkable blessing that’s yours.

I realize that you might be walking a desert. Your soul may feel dry and empty. You may wonder what it all means, or when you’ll feel better, or when you’ll finally taste the fruit of your ministry labors. But know this: The feast that lays before you each week is unrivaled. There is no president or oligarch, no actress or athlete, no celebrity or billionaire who’s richer than you, or eats better than you.

“More precious than gold, than much pure gold; sweeter than honey, than honey from the honeycomb” (Psalm 19:10). This is the expositor’s gift.