Lee Shelton IV posted this great sermon evaluation question he heard on a recent broadcast of the WhiteHorse Inn:
Whenever you hear someone preach, ask yourself this question: Why did Christ need to suffer and die on a cross in order for this sermon to make sense? And pastors, it wouldn't hurt for you to ask yourselves the same question.
Now I (and you) should go and listen to the WhiteHorse Inn.
My cousin preached a good sermon at his church, recently:
When Phillips Brooks famously defined preaching as “the communication of truth through personality” I do believe he was talking about your own personality and not someone else's. It has taken me awhile, but I finally feel like I have learned to be myself in the pulpit. Now whether this means my sermons are better or worse I can’t say. But being myself means my preaching is more genuine, more comfortable, and more sustainable. I know I have a lot to learn as a preacher, and I hope that ten years from now I’ll still get those awkward but true compliments–“your preaching has really improved over the years.” But at 32 I feel like I’m finally preaching the truth through my own personality.Like most young preachers, and not a few old ones, I’ve struggled to find my “voice” as a preacher. When I was in college I started devouring the Reformers and Puritans. Everything I read seemed to be either hundreds of years old or was translated hundreds of years ago. As a result, my writing (I wasn’t doing much preaching at the time) sounded like I was aiming for the “just translated from Latin” award. My sentences were often elephantine. The grammar was antiquated and there were simply too many words. A very fine professor who affirmed me in many ways challenged me to write for my own century, not for the century of my heroes. It was painful advice at the time. I wasn’t quite sure I trusted him. After all, wasn’t it a mark of piety to use words like “behoove” “calumny” and “obfuscate”? Well, it wasn’t. I need to be myself and not put on puritan-sounding airs. (Incidentally, my cousin, and classmate during college, had a wonderful t-shirt at the time that read “Eschew Obfuscation.” And he was the one with a girlfriend during all four years! Go figure.)In seminary I began to notice that many of my classmates sounded a lot like their homiletics professors. I still find this to be truth. It doesn’t matter where you go, preaching profs seem to crank out clones. Some of the blame may rest with instructors who place too much emphasis on their way of preaching–usually a way that works great for the teacher but doesn’t fit all the students. But some of the blame rests on the students too. We are desperate to latch on to some model so we end up copying wholesale what we see in those we respect, especially in those teaching us preaching. At Gordon-Conwell I saw lots of mini-Haddon Robinsons. This doesn’t mean all those students will turn out to be bad preachers, but they must realize there is only one Haddon Robinson. And they’re not it!As much as I was blessed by Robinson’s sermons, I was more tempted to imitate other preachers. I’m sure that for the first years of my ministry I sounded at times like a (very) poor man’s version of John Piper. I was listening to so much Piper that I’m sure my prayers, my themes, and even the way I said “Joy!” was Piperesque. Don’t get me wrong, I make no bones about learning from Piper and being influence by him. I’d trade my sermons for his any day. But he’d probably be the first to say, “Preach the same gospel I preach. But you don’t have preach just like me.” It’s taken me several years, but I think I’m finally ok with not being John Piper. I just don’t think I have the same personality, let alone the same gifts.Along the way there have been other famous preachers I’ve wanted to emulate. I wish I could walk through a text and use humor like Alistair Begg (with the accent too, of course). I wish I were as creative in my thinking and as culturally attuned as Tim Keller. I’d love to be as funny and humble as C.J. Mahaney. I’ve wondered at times what it would be like to do in-your-face as well as Driscoll, or be as smart as Carson (I tried saying "Eye-Ziah," but no one was fooled). Hey, I’ve even thought how cool it would be to communicate as cooly as Rob Bell.Over the years, I’ve experimented with several different methods of delivery. I’ve preached without notes, with a half page of notes, and with a full manuscript because some preacher I love preaches each of those ways. But what works best for me and my style, at least at this point in my ministry, is to preach from a full set of notes that alternates between manuscripting and chicken scratch. Homiletics professors might hate me for saying this, but sometimes you just have to figure out what works for you. I’m sure there are certain principles that define all good preaching, but there’s also a whole lot “I’m not sure why, but this works for me.”Since 2002, the year I was ordained, I estimate that I’ve preached almost 500 times (we have an evening service). And I think it took about 450 sermons to find my voice. This isn’t to say all those sermons were bad or untrue to myself. It’s not like I faked a Scottish accent or told stories about growing up in Greenville, South Carolina. But it’s taken me this long to realize the wisdom of Paul’s confession, “By the grace of God, I am what I am.”One of the hardest things for any preacher to learn, especially young preachers, is to simply be yourself. Don’t put on someone else’s passion or humor or learning. And don’t take off your own personality because one of your heroes doesn’t share it exactly. Go ahead and learn from the best. But your congregation needs to hear you on Sunday, not an impression of the preacher you wish you were. Let your person constantly be refined by the Spirit of God, and let the truth of God’s word shine through your own personality. Preach as a dying man to dying men. And don’t forget to be your own man.
Kevin DeYoung shares from his own experience on what it takes and means to share with your own personality. This time, it's on a different blog which he is a new member of. The blog focuses on church matters and preaching/pastorship. Check it out, ye all who are interested. :D
Last Summer I began reading Richard Baxter's The Reformed Pastor
Baxter begins by pointing out something that should be obvious; a Reformed pastor is a justified pastor. Well, a Reformed pastor should be a justified pastor. Here is a snippet from Baxter's exhortation to all those in the ministry and all those training for the ministry:
Believe it, brethren, God never saved any man for being a preacher, nor because he was an able preacher; but because he was a justified, sanctified man, and consequently faithful to his Master's work. Take heed, therefore, to yourselves first, that you be that which you persuade your hearers to be, and believe that which you persuade them to believe, and heartily entertain that Savior whom you offer to them.
And Baxter continues...
It is a fearful thing to be an unsanctified professor, but much more an unsanctified preacher. Doth it not make you tremble when you open the Bible, lest you should there read the sentence of your own condemnation? When you pen your sermons, little do you think that you are drawing up indictments against your souls! When you are arguing against sin, that you aggravating your own! When you proclaim to your hearers the unsearchable riches of Christ and his grace, that you are publishing your own iniquity in rejecting them, and your unhappiness in being destitute of them!
I'm sure this will be the first of many posts inspired by Baxter's The Reformed Pastor
Zac Poonen is a 70 year old Indian preacher. He occasionally preaches at my church. He is not what many would consider a dynamic preacher. He stands behinds the podium during his entire message. He speaks in a low, monotonous voice. Every once in a while he smiles but for the most part, his face remains the same, positioned comfortably between a frown and a smile.
Yet, Zac Poonen is one of the most powerful preachers I have ever seen. The power in his preaching does not come from delivery. It comes purely from content. Stripped from all forms of widely taught presentation and preaching techniques, the content of his message is left out in the open, all alone, raw and vulnerable. Many employ techniques to dress up their content, afraid that without techniques their content will be defenseless and torn to shreds by its consumers. Companies invest millions of dollars in marketing their brand and designing their web site.Speakers spend countless hours learning techniques on how to become a dynamic communicator.Stage performers spend countless hours refining their performance styles.People spend tons of money and time on how they look.I've certainly been involved with all of the above. It's easier to work on and improve technique. It is often more superficial. It's much much harder and costly to create powerful content. Spending time and money on technique, in and of itself, is definitely not a bad thing. It's the prioritization of it over content that is. Delivery should always play a supporting role to content, not the other way around. Just like a supporting actor can help the lead actor shine, effective delivery can do the same for content. It is worth spending time and money on learning delivery, but we must always remember that our content always takes priority. So much so, in fact, that when left out all alone, it should be able to fend for itself and reach the people it needs to reach without any help from its supporting cast.
By the way, if you want to hear some of this powerful content from Pastor Zac Poonen, visit poonen.org for an amazing collection of resources - all free.
Or listen here.
One thing I'd like to do on this here blog is to open a little window into my opinions about reality. I just recorded myself reading the speech I submitted for graduation earlier this year. It wasn't accepted. You'll see why.
When my friend Stephanie collided with Dr. Bocklesworth the squirrel on her blue eighteen-speed Peugeot road bike while zooming down the Broadway bike lane, she didn’t know what to do. There was Bocklesworth, lying there with a broken rib, close to the edge of consciousness, completely helpless (he himself had received a doctorate in chemical engineering and didn’t know the first thing about broken bones). Thoughts of his children and his great chemical experiments flooded his mind; would they get along without him!?
So Stephanie was presented with a choice: Should she whizz on to class and ponder bigger world problems, or cast aside her agenda for the day and aid the partially conscious fur-ball squirrel doctor, who would likely die without her but could surely live on if only scooped up off of the dangerous road?
There are some things that we do that are so hardwired that it is almost as though there were no choice. A women I met on the Amtrak train to Seattle told me of the five squirrels she had raised; of how their instinct to bury nuts was so strong that without ever having squirrel parents around they would hide them in every nook they could find. She said that one time she and her husband put Frankie, a Fox Squirrel who was found after his parents had met the same end as Dr. Bockelsworth may be facing, on top of a large burlap sack of shelled walnuts, and handed him one to do what he wanted with. He proceeded to bury the nut under the other nuts! Then, when he realized what he had done and what he was standing upon, he encountered a certain squirrel overload, and retreated from the overwhelming nut-mountain in a hurry.
Other behaviors and choices are not so engrained. Ponder with me, for a moment, the vastness of what must have shaped Stephanie’s basis for deciding to ride on without stopping, leaving poor Dr. Bocklesworth to be eaten by vicious car tires.
This vastness is almost incomprehensible, and certainly unquantifiable. Stephanie chose what she did because of who she is, and she is that person because of everything she has ever experienced. There was no single logical reason, but rather thousands or millions of tiny unquantifiable reasons, events that occurred moment after moment throughout her twenty-one years.
My point is that although Stephanie killed Dr. Bocklesworth by not taking the time to gather him up and nurse him into health, we, all __#__ of us in this crowd, cannot blame her for it.
Every single decision each person (and animal) makes is based on their hardwired instincts, like burying nuts, in conjunction with everything they have been through and know. When someone cuts you off in your car on your way to work, when Stephanie’s boyfriend kissed another girl without telling her, when someone declares war between the country they are in charge of and another country—these are all the result of an unquantifiable multitude of possibly current, possibly long-forgotten events.
Everyone does everything they do as a result of an unquantifiable list of experiences, and this implies that the conventional concepts of blame and responsibility that we doll out are in fact much more subtle than we think. This is very significant, because it means that there are no such things as good or bad people, only people with different backgrounds.
I ask you to join me in this perspective from time to time. When you do something stupid, or your friend says something mean and uncalled-for, take a pause and ponder the vastness of what went in to that act. I find that this helps me keep a grasp on how subtle and complex the concepts of blame and responsibility really are, and lets me better choose what I think is important and meaningful. For me, it’s quite refreshing.
Why did Jesus tell stories and use parables? Three answers are common.
- Jesus told stories because he used them as illustrations. But that doesn’t make a lot of sense of Matthew 13:11–12.
- Jesus told stories because he favored the enigmatic, thought-provoking, and open-ended rather than truths, propositions, and narrow-minded, modernist, foundationalist stuff like that. But it doesn’t take much reading of the Gospels to realize how many different genres Jesus actually preached in. For example, he preached using wisdom literature, apocalyptic, laments, exposition of OT texts, extended discourses, proverbs, beatitudes, one-liners, non-narratival extended metaphors, dialogue, and provocative questions. Further, Matthew 11:34–35 suggests that Jesus is trying to disclose something to them.
- Jesus used parables in order to hide things from the non-elect, to mask the truth. Yes, there is an element of that, but Matthew 11:34–35 suggests that Jesus is trying to disclose something to them.
So why did Jesus use parables? The text suggests two reasons.
- Jesus tells parables because in line with Scripture his message blinds, deafens, and hardens (Matthew 13:11–15). Matthew 13:14–15 quotes Isaiah 6:9–10 because Isaiah’s commission points forward and finds its ultimate fulfillment in Jesus himself. There are some audiences to whom you preach where the preaching of the word guarantees that they will not hear. Cf. John 8:45: “Because I tell the truth, you do not believe me!” Sometimes the truth itself elicits unbelief because people are so corrupt that the truth is repulsive. Cf. Acts 5:41. When people insult you, don’t get defensive. Don’t get angry. Don’t get even. Rejoice! You’re in! You’re in this long line, this trajectory, that culminates in Jesus himself. There are some people who will not believe, and if you speak the truth, you will cause them not to believe.
- Jesus tells parables because in line with Scripture his message reveals things hidden in Scripture (Matthew 13:34–35). Matthew 13:35 quotes Psalm 78:2. The Jews of Jesus’ day did not have a category for a crucified Messiah, but those categories are in the OT. Jesus refers to “the secrets of the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 13:11). A “mystery” in the NT does not refer to a “Whodunit?” It occurs 27 or 28 times in the NT and almost always is bound up with things hidden in the past in Scripture but now disclosed in the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus. “They’re there, but I’m going to reveal to you what has been hidden. The pieces are already there.” Hence, Matthew 13:16–17, 52.
Three Pastoral Reflections
- We should gain wonder in worship where there is a fresh grasp of how God has put the Bible together. The Bible is not a collection of arbitrary proof-texts. The more you dig into it, the more you unpack its simplicity and profundity.
- We should gain gratitude and humility for the gift of seeing the truth about Jesus and his gospel. We are just as perverse as others. We should never tire of being overwhelmed by the sheer privilege of grace in our lives.
- We should gain discretion in witness where there is a hostile environment.
