By Jeff Walling
“Now that was a great sermon!”
Every preacher wants to hear that comment when the service is over on a Sunday. But what really makes a great sermon? How should we measure the success of the minutes a congregation gives to hearing us open up God”s Word for them?
I”ve often told the old, borrowed preacher”s story of speaking at a revival for a small rural church. Standing at the door after the morning services the preacher was greeted by member after member who praised the lesson. But then one gentleman shook his hand and said, “That sermon was just a bunch of hot air. There was no substance. You talked too long. You used too many stories. It wasn”t relevant. I hope you don”t take up preaching as a career.”
The preacher was stunned! But before he could respond to his barrage, a hand clasped the member”s shoulder just as a voice behind him said, “God bless you, Benny.” At this, the complainer abruptly turned and darted away from the preacher.
The voice belonged to one of the elders who began to apologize. “I should have warned you about Benny,” he said to the preacher. “He”s mentally disabled and has been coming here for years.”
The preacher sighed in relief, “Oh, I see. That explains his comments.”
The elder smiled, “I didn”t hear what he said to you, but don”t worry about it. All Benny does is wander around repeating whatever he hears other people saying.”
Even if you”ve heard that story before, you may be surprised that Benny understood something important about good preaching. My definition of a great sermon has changed through the years. As a younger man I would have looked for immediate response. Seeing the front row filled with tearful, penitent people was the sign the sermon had hit home.
But through the years I began to see that the truly great messages have power beyond the moment. I”ve come to believe my best sermons were ones people were still talking about a week or two later. They were the ones people went around repeating. Or more appropriately, they are the sermons they go around tweeting or Facebooking about.
For the purpose of this article, I”m going to assume there is prayer and study behind the sermon. No amount of theatrics can substitute for “preach the Word.” But it isn”t a solid biblical basis that is missing from most sermons I hear. It”s that intangible quality that makes a sermon stick.
If getting the message of God”s Word off of the page and into the listener”s heart is our goal, then a clear and memorable image may be our best friend. Think of sermons that touched you and stuck with you. I”d guess they had a clear and powerful image at their center. Like Jesus” parables, a story or picture that captures the heart of a message can drive the point home like little else. And that central image can be described in three adjectives:
Simple. I often give my lesson the “third-grader” test. If I were to share my sermon”s central image with a third-grader, would he get it? At heart we are all children. And 30 years of preaching has convinced me that the simplest lessons are the most powerful. If it”s too complex for a third-grader to understand . . . I may need to break it down a bit more.
Good exegesis doesn”t need to be complex. Remember the greatest teacher of all time told simple stories that stuck in people”s minds. A simple visual illustration or picture carries power when repeated simply. How many times does the psalmist tell us, “The love of the Lord endures forever”? Find the core of your message and hone it to a simple truth that your hearers can hold on to.
Vivid. A clear, powerful image should feel like a great 3-D movie””you can reach right out and hold it. It has color, tension, and power. When we think of the prodigal son in the pigpen, we can see the slop in his hands that he”s considering eating. That vivid moment is unforgettable. We can feel the revulsion in our throats as we imagine him eating pig”s food. That moment sticks because the details and clarity of the mental picture are so vivid.
The colors, sounds, and smells of an image are the Velcro that makes it stick to our memories. When you share that seminal moment in the lesson, paint it with bright sharp detail””make it live!
Passionate. Preacher, if your sermon carries the same impact if someone were just to read it rather than hear it, then leave copies for them in the lobby and go spend your time serving at a homeless shelter. Sorry, if that”s harsh, but I believe it. The passion you bring to the pulpit is fire that will light up your hearer”s hearts.
Energy gets our attention. It doesn”t have to be loud””think about someone so passionate about something he can hardly speak. You listen to what he says because it”s clear he really cares. Whether it”s the first or the 50th time you”ve spoken on John 3:16, your central image must be shared with passion.
Get excited. Get dynamic. Get tense. Ask yourself, “Does this really matter?” If it does, then talk like it does! God forgive us when we are more energetic in the lobby talking about last week”s ball game than in the pulpit talking about the “big game.” And the most important time to bring the passion is when you are sharing your key image. It”s the heart of your message. Bring the juice when you teach it!
Jack Paar once said the greatest sin you can commit in public is to be boring. Let me retool that aphorism:Â The greatest sin a preacher can commit is to be boring. If those entrusted with sharing the greatest news in the history of mankind do so in a way that leaves folks yawning, we have failed epically!
There is no excuse for boring preaching. None. It isn”t a matter of talent. It”s a matter of tools and tenacity. If we will seek the Lord”s heart through our study and prayer time, and then bring a simple, vivid, passionate picture into the pulpit, people will be blessed.
Who knows? They might even go around repeating what you said!
Jeff Walling serves as senior minister with Providence Road Church of Christ, Charlotte, North Carolina.
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