Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream

While snoozing in the wee hours of the night on Tuesday I had the strangest dream: it was the Sunday after Easter and I was in the pulpit about to preach. I had prepared a humdinger of a sermon and as I started preaching everyone started nodding off to sleep, the more I preached the deeper they fell into sleep. Some people even stretched out on the pews and snored away. The terrible part was that I could not stop preaching, I wanted to but I could not. My normally 8 page sermon would not end, I would preach one page and another would appear. I kept saying in my mind this next part will stir them up, or preach a little louder and they will awake. Finally, I was able to stop, I threw my sermon on the ground and immediately everyone awoke. They were groggy but awake. After a few minutes of mumbling around the moderator stood up and chastised for such boring messages. I was mortified and speechless. At that moment I woke up in a cold sweat, the covers off of me, my pillow in the floor, and body all knotted up.

Usually, without much prodding, someone falls asleep every Sunday. I do not mind, in fact it gives me great pleasure afterwards to rib them a little. The best story I have is of an elderly woman who usually went to sleep right after the call to worship and would be out of it till the final hymn. When I announced I was leaving she performed one of the most self-less acts I have ever witnessed - she purposively moved forward to the third pew from the front so she could hear my last few sermons. Of course she only made it to the gospel reading but I still recall that as one of the most moving moments as a pastor.

The Rabbi Made Me Do It

Last Thursday I went out to lunch with my colleagues: the Presbyterian pastor (the nice one), Episcopalian rector, and the Rabbi. As we walked down the street to the restaurant the Rabbi casually said: "So are you going to preach on something big on Easter Sunday, making any big stances?" In a hushed and slow tone I responded, "wwwwweeeellll I am completing my sermon series on renewal." He replied, "Oh great then this will be your apotheosis, the culminating sermon." Again in a hushed and slow tone I responded "ssssssuuuurrrrreee."

Being Thursday I had pretty much finished my sermon. It was a nice sermon, a good Easter sermon - nothing great, no great stands, nothing out of the ordinary. But after lunch I quickly scrapped my sermon and started over from square one. Easter - the biggest day of the year, an unusual day for preaching, an expectant crowd. Is it a day to play it safe? No.

I wrestled with ideas, possibilities, and directives. Then the sermon emerged and I wrote like mad Thursday night after the service, all day Friday, a good portion of Saturday while watching the WVU vs Duke game, and early on Sunday morning. The result? Validation.

I have never poured myself into a sermon like that before. I received the most positive response to a sermon in my life. I can safely say every other Easter sermon I preached was a safe sermon. Usually after Easter I am wiped out, no energy or stamina for the week after. Usually I take a week's vacation just to recover. Granted I was tired after this Easter but not wiped out. In fact I felt surprisingly refreshed, I even woke up at 6am on Easter Monday morning (which is a school holiday here in New Orleans!) The unexpected experience of energy was a result of the validation I experienced as a preacher. The folk appreciated the work I did and the content I offered.

Taking chances in ministry are not, on the whole, looked highly upon. But I think the time for playing it safe are over, we need to take broader and deeper chances as preachers. It is risky, sure but I think there are expectant ears awaiting.

Thanks to the Rabbi!

Only as Good as Your Last Sermon

On Wednesday at high noon a faux showdown will take place on the avenue. I will be preaching at SCAPC, as part of the Lenten worship series. My sermon title: Johnny Cash, John Calvin, Jesus Christ. (for the record I am disbanding my disdain for the Presbyterians, a replacement nemesis will be named soon. Why? I like the pastor at SCAPC too much). I first preached the "three JCs" sermon in 2001 at Athens Baptist but I cannot locate the sermon, so it will be a fresh sermon. I will preach this sermon reformatted on Pentecost when I add a fourth JC: John Coltrane.

Since arriving I have to spend more intentional time preparing, writing, and editing my sermon. How much time? I really cannot say, but in my view it is considerable. The reason: the church has a high view of the sermon and expects a well crafted piece of art (one of the reasons I was drawn here). I also spend more time because of the "competition." Competition? In Lime Rock there really was no competition, in my mind at least - considering LRBC was the only Protestant church in the village. But here folk can just as easy go down the street a few blocks and receive a quality and damn good sermon.

All in all I appreciate this environment, it is forcing me to improve my writing and delivery style. I have formed/am forming a checklist of items I have to have before I walk up the stage and stand behind the pulpit: a proper welcome, a written prayer, the words of assurance, order of announcements, & etc. Never in a million years did I expect this level of professionalism, but I appreciate it nonetheless.

Narrative Preaching

The other day I was sent a piece of electronic mail on the topic of ladyburg's use of narrative preaching. I also saw where ladyburg proposed this question on her blog. Since it is Thursday, the day I finish writing my sermon, I have decided to respond here.

First of all lemme say that I think most preaching books suck. They all dibble on theories of preaching but hardly ever give concrete suggestions on how what they propose looks like in finished form; second they hardly ever delve into how their own creative process takes place. Therefore, I have pretty much given up reading "preaching books." Instead I have found it much more helpful to read books of sermons, the actual things. (This just may be my own personality - rather than taking a class on woodworking I simply go out and buy tools and think I'll figure it out eventually) I find that by reading books of sermons I can get an insight into how they are writing, sentence speed, word usage, image formation and employing metaphorical danglings. Now due to the advent of this thing called the internet I can listen to some pretty good (and some pretty terrible) sermons.

So how much of theobilly are in the sermons? When I read Harry Emerson Fosdick, Gardner Taylor, and Peter Gomes I dont find too many personal stories. The warning is always dont let your own personal story trump the gospel message - only use it illuminate it. But I'm sure most of you out there in the preaching world experience the perking of ears whenever you tell a personal story and then a sudden dullity fall when you go back to the gospel story. No one ever tells you how well you explained the complicated language of the Apostle Paul but they will tell you how they loved your Uncle Billy story (just for the record I don't have an uncle Billy). So what is the lesson here? I have no idea. On the one hand folk are nosy and interested in your life and want to hear how it intersects with the good news. On the other hand, I'm sure most of us are a bit lazy when it comes to our story telling abilities and cant find the time to create a hum dinger each week.

A few weeks ago I couldnt stop listening to David Sedaris tapes. I found his stories so entertaining that I decided to write some sermons with him in mind. I began each sermon with a personal story that related to an article on the Apostles Creed. Folk seemed to love it. I reflected that folk appreciate good writing. Sentence structure matters, wordplay matters, delivery matters but a well constructed sentence can almost supercede (that is a legit variant of supersede) delivery. Sedaris has an annoying nasal voice, but he is so funny you dont even pay attention to it.

How much of myself do I reveal? I pretty much lay it all on the line. I figure they share all of their aches and pains, scars at the hospital, hopes and dreams, moments of great sadness, cakes, coffee, tea and joy. The congregation is pretty much transparent with me so I'll be the same way. (This blog however, is not known within the congregation - but if you do a search for me it is easily attainable. I do like to think of the ironic anonymity of blogging from the congregation while at the same time it is available to anyone with internet access).

Does that help ladyburg? What about you out there, yeah you - throw me a bone and lemme know your two cents.