Posted in preaching, speaking

They thought I was kidding

As I began preaching yesterday, I mentioned that there are some in the congregation who believe I should more confrontational, more aggressive, more direct in my preaching, along the lines of John the Baptist. JTB didn’t pull any punches calling his audience a “brood of vipers” who didn’t take repentance seriously, basically trees bearing nothing but rotten fruit that should be cut down and burned.

I said that maybe I should zero in on our smug self-righteousness, our neglect of the poor, and our failure to witness. Rather than children of God we look more like the descendants of the serpent himself.

After each of those examples, many in the congregation smiled, snickered and audibly chuckled. As I spoke, I felt personally convicted about each of those offenses, but they didn’t. Either they really didn’t take it seriously, or I didn’t preach the law clearly. And if they didn’t get the law, did they get the gospel? Did they think I was kidding about that, too?

Feedback after a sermon is valuable, but rare. It may come in the form of a comment or question after worship or later in the week. But it might also come in the moment, from a look in their eyes or an expression on their faces. The latter was true yesterday, and it was humbling.

I don’t want to get caught in the trap of believing I’ve got this down, that I know how to effectively reach an audience. As soon as I do, I let down my guard, I don’t work as hard as I should, and I’m nothing more than a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. You can either humble yourself and work hard, or you can let God humble you so you can get back to work.

Either way, by his grace, there’s another Sunday coming up. Another chance. Thank you!

Posted in Ministry

Day and night, night and day

It was as different as night and day. I preached to the big Christmas Eve crowd last night and to a much smaller gathering this morning, Christmas Day. I grew up always going to both, but most worshippers choose one or the other.

Those contrasting moments feel very different to a preacher. On the one hand, I hope for the “full house” on Christmas Eve. I accept the fact that worship on Christmas Day isn’t even on most people’s radar. The temptation is to be pumped up for the eve crowd, and not put as much effort into the day attendees.

But you can’t do that. Some of those folks came a long way and carved out time to be there. It’s been a long time since they’ve been together as a family. And they are because of the story. A story that remains the same, even though much has changed in the past year.

While the one feels exciting, the other is more intimate. At the one you look at a crowd, but at the other you can look into their eyes. At the one there are many strangers; at the other I’ve met everyone as they’ve arrived.

Which do I like better? It’s hard to say. I really like both. I like to tell the story and I like to hear it, too. It pumps me up and settles me down more than the size of the crowd.

I love the sea of candles in a dark sanctuary on Christmas Eve. I also love the rays of sunshine that stream through the windows first thing on Christmas morning.

Thank you, Lord, for the best of both worlds!

Posted in Christmas, Ministry, preaching

My favorite thing about Christmas

me-preaching-at-cantata.jpgWhat do I like the most about Christmas? Preaching. The chance to get up in front of a congregation and preach the word. Tell the story, explain the implications of the story, invite my listeners into the story, and challenge them to be a part of that story.

Gifts, food, family, music, Santa, lights, Grinch, decorations, cookies, cards, trees, shopping, travel, candles, nativity — it’s all great. But nothing compares to preaching.

If you’ve never been a preacher, you might not understand. :”Oh, you have to work on Christmas Eve? And on Christmas Day? Too bad.” Yeah, you’re right. I don’t get to go away to be with family on Christmas.

But I get to preach! I like to preach anyway. That’s one of the reasons I pursued this vocation. Even though it’s hard work, I enjoy preaching the word, and I especially enjoy preaching the big days: Christmas, Easter, Pentecost and I guess you’d have to include Reformation. Those are high energy days at church anyway. The adrenaline is pumping, the music is moving, and the people are there.

Plus, for the most part, you don’t have to do that much. The story is compelling on its own. You don’t have to add much to the story of Christ’s birth to touch hearts with tidings of comfort and joy. God does all that for you on this and other big days in the church year.

I can’t speak for every pastor, but I’ll bet they share my sentiment. You can’t give me a greater gift than the chance to preach!

Posted in Biblical illiteracy, church, Ministry, preaching

Just be there.

IMG_3022It’s early. Really early. It’s dark. Really dark. It’s quiet. Really quiet.

It’s about 6:20 am on a Sunday morning as I pull into the church parking lot to open up, turn off the alarm, turn on a few lights, and get my head and heart into the worship that day. I hear the AC units kick on, and I am thankful they are working today. I unlock all the doors, thankful for all who will enter that day. I turn on all the lights, but quickly dim them all except for those in the chancel. And then in front of an empty room, I preach. I preach my sermon for the first time that day.

I’ve been working on the sermon all week. But it doesn’t come alive until I speak it aloud. My words echo through an empty sanctuary, but in my mind I see all of you who will soon be sitting in those pews. I know where you sit. I know where to look for you. And I am hoping that the word will touch you in the same way it has touched me in the past week.

It’s good to prepare. It’s good to practice. But it’s not really preaching until you are there. It’s so different when I see your face and watch your reaction. It’s not really a sermon until I see you struggle to hold back a tear. Or a giggle. Or look and me wondering, “How did you know?” Or glare at me thinking, “Oh yeah?” Or shake your head in disbelief: “I can’t believe you just said that!”

It’s a sermon when I can tell I’ve touched a nerve. Or pushed a button. Or put my foot in my mouth. Or given you something to hold on to when you thought you were going to fall. Or made you laugh and realize that you’ve been taking it all much too seriously.

I can prep, I can practice and I can preach. But it’s nothing unless you are there. That’s probably the best gift you could ever give your pastor. Just be there. React, respond, repent and rejoice with him (me) because God’s Word is just as amazing, powerful and life-changing as ever!

Posted in Ministry, sermon

Practice. Practice. Practice.

kathy-hillacre-8240 (1)I’m often asked, “How do you preach without using a manuscript?” The answer is the same you’d give to the question, “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” “Practice. Practice. Practice.”

My Sunday sermon is usually done sometime on Thursday. I run through it a few times, then set it aside till Saturday. On Saturday, I will practice it a few more times. Sometimes I practice at church, in front of an empty sanctuary. Other times I practice at home, in front of the dog. I might practice it while out for a walk. Or in front of a mirror. I practice one more time early Sunday morning, before anyone else arrives at church.

So by the time I preach for a worship service, I’ve already heard the sermon five or six times. Sometimes more. On the one hand, this is a good thing. Good speakers practice their talks. They practice their pace, silences, movement and gestures. On the other hand, I’ve already heard this sermon five or six times. It’s starting to get old. And sometimes I’m beginning to wish I didn’t have to preach it at all.

That’s when I need to remind myself that my audience hasn’t heard it yet. They haven’t thought about the text, the context, or the application. For them, it will be new. It will be something they will respond to. Maybe with a smile. Or a question. Or an argument. Perhaps with a prayer. Or with praise.

Over the past twenty years, some in the congregation have heard me preach over 1,000 times. And they keep coming. They keep listening. They keep learning. They keep growing.

Every Sunday morning, as I drive the three miles to church, I warm up my voice, I thank God for my voice, I thank him for the power of His word, and I thank Him for everyone who comes to hear. After all, you can’t be a preacher without a congregation.

Posted in Ministry

Just a sticky note

“How do you do that?”

A first-time worshiper guest threw that question at me on their way out the door last Sunday. No, I didn’t know what they were talking about either. But I’ve become the master of the follow-up question.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You didn’t use any notes when you preached.”

“Oh, he had notes,” her husband quickly added.

I chimed in, “Yes, I did have a few notes.” But then they were out the door.

Honestly, I did have a few notes. I usually have a sticky note on the page opposite my sermon text with some words to jog my memory during the course of the sermon.

How do I do that? Good question. Maybe I should start from the beginning. Continue reading “Just a sticky note”

Posted in Grace, Ministry

Better than OK

I wasn’t all that thrilled with last Sunday’s sermon. It was OK, but I wasn’t sure I really connected with the congregation.

Then I began to get some unusual feedback. Unusual because it went beyond the usual, “That was a good sermon, Pastor.” The first comment at lunch that day was, “When we heard the sermon, we knew what we had to do.” Another person three days later told me, “Once we heard your sermon, we were no longer undecided. We had to get involved.” Yet another listener emailed me during the week and stated, “After the sermon, I applied for a local volunteer position, and was immediately accepted.” Not just one, but three people took action because of something they heard in the sermon.

My text and topic really isn’t relevant here. The truth is, I should know better by now. After twenty-seven years of preaching I should know that God’s Word will not return to Him empty, but will always accomplish what He intends. Sometimes I get to hear about the response. Other times I don’t. But I should know that He will do exceedingly more than I ask or imagine. But I am still surprised sometimes.

So I am either putting too much pressure on myself, or I am not trusting God very much. Or I am guilty of both. In any event, when I do get some feedback like that, I know I can relax a little and trust God more. And I can do that right now, because Sunday is always just few days away.

Posted in Grace, Life, Ministry

My son’s first sermon

This past Sunday my son Adam preached his first sermon at our church. He just finished his first year of classes at the seminary, so he’s getting some experience in front of a live audience. We’ve been here in Palm Coast for 14 years, so this is basically the church he’s grown up in. I had hoped that preaching in front of friendly faces, who have been supporting and praying for him would make for a positive start. I was right. And I was impressed. I had read his sermon ahead of time and given a few suggestions, and the final product was excellent (check it out here). He was poised, relaxed, confident and well-spoken. All this in a room where the AC and the sound system weren’t working since the power in the neighborhood went out the second he began preaching!

As a parent, I may have been more nervous than he was. I wanted him to have an enjoyable, positive first experience in the pulpit (even though he didn’t actually use the pulpit). I wanted him to be himself, not feel pressured to be like me. I wanted him to relax knowing that God’s work never returns void, always accomplishing what he intends. By the grace of God, all my parent prayers were answered. The only thing is, now I have a hard act to follow this Sunday!

I’ve searched my mind for memories of preaching my first sermon. No luck so far. I know where I was: Messiah Lutheran Church in Wolcottville, IN, my second-year field work congregation. And I believe I have the manuscript of that sermon. And I know I survived the experience. But I fear the memory has faded, and there is no recording. I suspect I didn’t do nearly as well as Adam did, though.

One memory I do have comes from my early years of ministry in Connecticut. I clearly remember Adam, age 4 and his sister, age 3, sitting at the dining room table one day, each with an open Bible and a page filled with scribbling. When I asked what they were doing, they replied, “We’re writing our sermons.” We may even have a photo of that moment.

I hope those present realized they were getting a chance to see the next generation of pastors being prepared by our seminaries. Our professors are doing a great job! But I also hope they see that they play a big part in preparing the next generation of church workers, too. God certainly uses the many years of prayer, encouragement, grace, example, and teaching of a Christian congregation to prepare and send out workers into his harvest fields. It certainly is a privilege — as a parent, a pastor, and a member — to be a part of that process.

Posted in Life

Huh?

At Adam’s first homiletics (preaching) class this semester, the professor, ┬áDr. Dale Meyer, said, “Just because you said it doesn’t mean they heard it.” That’s a good thing to keep in mind. Communication seems simple enough. Preach the word, and watch the Holy Spirit work, right? Well, kind of. Jesus told that story about the different kinds of soil. Sometimes the word takes root and changes lives. But not always. Rock, weeks, birds, and whatever get in the way. Even for Jesus.

It reminds me a little of watching a movie or some TV, when someone leans over and says, “What did he say?” There’s a lot we hear that we don’t understand. We don’t understand what was said, or we don’t understand what the words mean, or we don’t understand what the speaker is talking about. I don’t understand everything I hear. I often ask, “What are you talking about?” Wouldn’t you like to ask me that question sometime? Feel free. You have my permission. How about if I leave my phone out on the pulpit and you can text me, “Huh?”