Preaching? Have something to say

Craig Adams has overcome his aversion to offering preaching advice to share his thoughts about preaching and sermon preparation. It is worth your time to read, ponder, and perhaps argue with.

Here’s a taste. Adams says time spent in crafting a sermon is often wasted.

Why is that? Because the number one rule for preaching (and public speaking, as well) is: have something worthwhile to say! If you don’t have anything worthwhile to say, no amount of sermon technique is going to save you. You are dead in the water.  On the other hand, if you’ve got something worthwhile to say — and you are excited about saying it — you’ve still got a good message. Good technique can make a good message better. But, it can’t save a boring or pointless or vacuous message. That is still boring. (And, don’t bother with the Power Point, either.)

90 hours prep for 1 hour talking?

My summer reading this year includes a book about making effective presentations by Nancy Duarte. I started skimming it a bit this morning just to get my bearings.

Early in the book she lays out a timeline for developing a one-hour presentation that includes 30 slides.

6-20 hours: Research and collect input

1 hour: Build an audience-needs map

2 hours: Generate ideas using sticky notes

1 hour: Organize the ideas

1 hour: Have colleagues critique or collaborate about the impact ideas will have on audience

2 hours: Sketch a structure and/or story board

20-60 hours: Build the slides

3 hours: Rehearse, rehearse, rehearse.

Total: 36-90 hours

I think I read once that Adam Hamilton spends 10-20 hours per week developing his sermons, which tend to run 30 to 40 minutes. If you take out the 20-60 hours to build PowerPoint slides from Duarte’s list, then Hamilton fits in the lower end of her time frame.

Even adjusting down for the fact that my sermons tend to run 12-17 minutes, I know that I do not cover her bases. I’m curious what thoughts and reactions other preachers have to Duarte’s ideas.

The most awesome privilege

I picked up a copy of John Stott’s preaching book, Between Two Worlds. It was published in 1982, but does not feel dated to me. Perhaps Indiana in 2012 is like England in 1982 when it comes to preaching and the life of the church.

At the heart of his book on preaching, Stott calls for two things: conviction and bridge-building.

First, he pleads for preachers to have conviction. Conviction about who God is and does. Conviction about the authority and inspiration of the Bible. Conviction about the need for preaching pastors in the life of the church.

Second, he summons preachers to be bridge-builders, connecting the Bible to the life of the people who gather to hear it read and expounded upon. He knocks conservatives for preaching the Bible without making any connections to the world in which people live. He knocks liberals for preaching the questions and concerns of the world without significant contact with the Bible.

While his second point resonates, it is his first point about conviction that hits most home for me. So much of the preaching advice and counsel I read these days suggests we need to start with an acute awareness of the doubtfulness of what we preach. The congregation  gives the Bible no real authority, and certainly does not give the preacher any, so we must approach them at angles and lure them with promises that what we offer will make their lives better.

Stott argues counter to this. He writes that preaching must emerge from strong convictions about God, Scripture, the church, the pastorate, and preaching itself. If it does not, he writes, it is folly and arrogance.

Galli: We need the cross

The most needful and difficult task of the church today is to again preach the message of the Cross, and to do so in a way that alarms, surprises, scandalizes, challenges, invigorates, and inspires a 21st century world. What that would look like exactly is hard to say; our theologians and pastors need to help us here. In the most general terms, it has to be about Christ first and last. It has to be about the Christ who came into the world not to improve generally good people, but to resurrect the dead, not to bolster our self-esteem but to forgive us, not to make people successful but to make them loving, not to win the culture but to establish a kingdom without end. Even more scandalously, the message of the Cross is about a universe saturated with grace, where nothing we have done or can do earns us the right to participate in this stunning new reality; all has been done for us. The best we can do is acknowledge the reality (faith) and begin to live as if it is reality (repent).

— Mark Galli, “The Troubled State of Christian Preaching

Preaching like a Methodist

In 1751, John Wesley put to paper his thoughts about the proper way of preaching Christ. I will here summarize the content of the letter he wrote and include some extracts that I have found thought provoking or challenging to my own preaching.

He opens with definitions. He contrasts “preaching the gospel” with “preaching the law.” The gospel is the love of God to sinners and the blessing offer to all through the life, death, resurrection, and intercession of Jesus Christ. Preaching the law means “explaining and enforcing the commands of Christ,” which Wesley writes are best located in the Sermon on the Mount.

Wesley urges us to preach both law and gospel, as opposed to choosing either one or the other.

I think the right method of preaching is this: At our first beginning to preach at any place, after a general declaration of the love of God to sinners, and his willingness that they should be saved, to preach the law, in the strongest, the closest, the most searching manner possible; only intermixing the gospel here and there, and showing it, as it were, afar off.

(I wish I had an example to compare with Wesley’s description)

He goes on to explain that as people become convinced of sin, the plan is to mix in more and more gospel to help raise up those who “the law hath slain.” Wesley argues that the law must always remain in preaching, even where all of a congregation is believed to be justified. Even as people grow in sanctification, the law is preached not as a command but as a privilege. Those in whom God has destroyed the power of sin have power to obey the law. It becomes a guide rather than a gavel.

The remarkable thing about reading Wesley — and my summary does not do this aspect of his writing justice — is how nuanced and complex was the way he fitted his preaching to the spiritual needs of his audience. He was quite sophisticated in his reading of the various stages and troubles a Christian might face and modulated his preaching and advice to preachers to fit the conditions.

Wesley wraps up his general outline thusly:

I advise him to declare, explain, and enforce every command of God; but, meantime, to declare, in every sermon, (and the more explicitly the better,) that the first and great command to a Christian is, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ;” that Christ is all in all, our “wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption;” that all life, love, strength, are from him alone, and all freely given to us through faith. And it will ever be found, that the law thus preached both enlightens and strengthens the soul; that it both nourishes and teaches; that it is the guide, “food, medicine, and stay,” of the believing soul.

Wesley writes that this was the preaching of the Apostles and of the Methodists in the earliest days. This preaching had great effect, Wesley writes, until James Wheatly rose to popularity as a Methodist preacher.

Wheatly is blamed for spreading the contagion of gospel preaching without the law. His “soft words” seduced many Methodist preachers and harmed rank-and-file Methodists in Wesley’s estimation. Once they became accustomed to preaching that neglected the law, he writes, they soon became unable to stomach “the pure milk of the word.”

[T]he gospel Preachers, so called, corrupt their hearers; they vitiate their taste, so that they cannot relish sound doctrine; and spoil their appetite so they cannot turn it into nourishment; they as it were, feed them with sweetmeats, till the genuine wine of the kingdom seems quite insipid to them.

The effect of such preaching, Wesley writes, is always at first a surge of life among the people, but it soon passes and they are left weaker and resistant to the only medicine that would strengthen them. Wesley recounts the record of Methodist societies crippled by such gospel preaching, but closes with a happy report of a part of the connection that was not infected by gospel preachers. There the societies were alive and strong.

From the beginning they had been taught both the law and the gospel. “God loves you; therefore, love and obey him. Christ died for your; therefore, die to sin. Christ is risen; therefore, rise in the image of God. Christ liveth evermore; therefore, live to God, till you live with him in glory.”

So we preached; and so you believed. This is the scriptural way, the Methodist way, the true way. God grant we may never turn therefrom, to the right hand or to the left!

Notice again that the law is not only useful to confront unawakened sinners. It is also a guide for Christian living and working out our salvation. It remains a positive necessity for holiness. This was, I think, Wesley’s primary concern — that Methodists who heard the gospel preachers slipped into lives that did not conform to the commands of Christ.

As I read this letter, I find myself thinking about the needs of the congregations where I preach. How many are there that need to be convinced? How many are justified? How many are going on to perfection? How many have slid or stagnated?

I also find myself wondering how Wesley’s law and gospel preaching accords with the preaching that I do. Would I have been part of the problem about which he wrote if I were preaching back then?

Preach with certainty

Roger Olson hosts an interesting post about Calvinism and preaching that includes words to we Arminians, which I will quote briefly.

As such, I think the current appeal of Calvinist preaching has less to do with passion and more to do with certainty. Thus, I would contend that it is not so much that Calvinism preaches better as it is that certainty preaches better. It always has and always will, but it is especially appealing in a postmodern context (or post-postmodern, or whatever we are in now), which seems inundated with ambiguity. I might go even further and argue that at the heart of most passionate movements, you will find a message of certainty preached with certainty. …

If Neo-Calvinist preaching needs to leave people more room to discern and question, moderate free will theism needs to encourage people to submit and accept good answers. Moderate preachers would do well to remember that moderate need not mean spineless and endlessly qualified. And if a given preacher clearly has a gift, then affirm it and point others to it instead of crying wolf at every rustling in the bushes.

Preaching in the dry places

I’ve hit one of those preaching dry places that I’ve been warned about. I’ve been preaching for a little over three years, now, about 50 weeks a year.

The chief aspect of this dryness is my lack of satisfaction with any sermon illustrations or stories. I’ve grown distrustful and uncomfortable with personal stories. They all feel like add-ons or accessories. No story or anecdote can possibly connect to every person. Many might actually make some people feel excluded. I’m finding myself aware of the gulf between my experiences and understandings and reactions and the vast, unknown inner life of the people who hear the sermon. I’m finding myself feeling that every story — especially the good ones — detract in some way from the Scripture.

I find myself thrown back on the text and not comfortable venturing far from it, which means I lose all those colorful bits and touching stories and illustrations. In short, I think I’m much less interesting in the pulpit, but I’m not sure how to avoid that without doing something that feels — at least for the moment — contrived.

None of this is meant as a criticism of any preacher or even myself. It is simply a report.

I’m told these dry periods are part of the preaching life. This is my first one. I wonder how long God will leave me here.