Tone Deaf Preaching

July 5, 2011July 5, 2011 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

You won’t hear me starting a chorus in public. Tone deaf. But what about preaching? Is there a need for aural sensitivity in the preacher? I think there is, absolutely.

What is the tone of the text? Some preachers deal with texts as flat data sets offering them a set of information from which to draw a textually rooted sermon (which is better than those who use the text as a springboard to bounce off to reach the heights of their own constructed sermonizing!) But if we are going to be genuinely biblical preachers, then we must develop a sensitivity for the tone of the text. Galatians 1 is very different from Philippians 4, which is neither Psalm 51 nor Isaiah 40. What is the tone of the text? Without sensitivity to the tone, you aren’t grasping a text properly.

What is the tone of your preaching? It doesn’t matter how good a sermon may be on paper, your congregation have to hear you preach it. This means how it comes across is very important. If you are consistently coming across as nagging, or edgy, or aggressive, or disrespectful, or patronizing, or prideful . . . and if you don’t know it, this is a problem. Ask for honest feedback. Listen to yourself. Watch yourself. Is the tone what you want it to be? Is the tone what the text suggests? Is the tone what they need it to be?

The tone of the text. The tone of the preacher. Some preachers seem tone deaf to both. Good preachers aren’t.

Bony Outlines

July 1, 2011June 30, 2011 / Peter Mead / 4 Comments

How bony should you make your sermon outline? Some people are passionately committed to having the sermon outline show through for maximum clarity. Every point is obviously a point. It is offered as such (my third point is…) The points need to be equal in weight, alliterated in wording and balanced perfectly.

This kind of rhetorical approach to preaching is understandable. It’s what we have been told is the right way to preach. It is perhaps what we have often heard done either successfully or not. Maybe we were taught it in seminary. Apparently people like to take notes of the points. Apparently parallel points are more memorable (and apparently remembering your outline is the goal of some listeners).

Can I question the point of all this for a moment? What if the points of the sermon are actually for the preacher’s benefit, rather than for the listeners? What if their take-away should be the main idea of the passage and how it has marked them, rather than a synopsis of your outline that they probably will never look at again?

If the only goal in preaching were clarity, then bony preaching would be the way to go. Let the skeleton show through in everything. But what about faithfulness to the text? Perhaps the text doesn’t offer three balanced points, and to make it offer that would be to abuse the text? What about relevance? What about engaging the listener? What about transformation that doesn’t come merely from information transfer? Perhaps bony preaching is not the only way to go?

I do not advocate rejection of traditional outlining methodologies. I am not saying we should go free form and nebulous in our preaching. But I would suggest that my outline is my servant, not my product. I outline the flow of the sermon to reflect the text and the message, but that is for my sake. Somehow I have to find the balance between bony preaching (clear, but potentially weak in other areas), and fleshy sermons (engaging, interesting, and/or biblically faithful, but potentially less “clear” by traditional measures).

Don’t Assume Familiarity

June 30, 2011June 29, 2011 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

It happens all too regularly. The preacher zeroes in on a specific text and preaches it, assuming that the listeners are familiar with the broader context and flow of the book in which it is found.

Even if you are mid-series, don’t assume familiarity. It takes more than one or two brief overviews to help people feel comfortable in the broader context of a passage. It is easy to think that since this is week three of six, they will be tracking on the flow of the book. They may not.

Even if you already gave a a mini-overview in this message, don’t assume familiarity. You might have just given a thirty second sweep over the top of the book in your introduction. But now that you are into your message, you can’t assume they will be automatically spotting the connections you are hinting at in reference to how this text follows on from the preceding. Be overt.

Recognize that many in our churches feel much more daunted by the Bible than we might expect. It is easy to assume a level of familiarity that simple isn’t there. Also, many in our churches dip into the Bible for proof texts and to answer questions in Bible study groups, but don’t read books in flow and so don’t have familiarity with books as a whole.

We would do well to consider it one of our privileges to help folks become more familiar with books as a whole. It takes time, but it is worth the effort. The spiritually mature tend not to be the pocketful of proof text people, but rather the grasping the message of books as a whole kind of folks. So what to do?

1. Repeatedly offer helpful clear flowing summaries of books and larger sections when preaching from within them. It takes work to summarize effectively in order to do this (the kind of work the preacher is supposed to be doing, however!)

2. Consider overview sermons at the beginning and/or end of book series. Why is this so seldom done? Surely having worked with the bits, people would be delighted to see the whole fit together.

3. Consider stand-alone whole book sermons. With the overt goal of motivating people to get into the book for themselves, these can be highly profitable messages.

4. If your messages always skip around the canon like a four-year old after cake, or if your series are always topical in nature . . . consider the benefits of teaching through a book now and then.

Preacher, What Is Your Role?

June 28, 2011June 28, 2011 / Peter Mead / 3 Comments

Donald Sunukjian’s short definition of preaching is “Listen to what is God saying . . . to us?” Simple, maybe overly so, but helpful nonetheless. Preaching is something about God speaking through His Word to us now. But somehow it is easy to slip into some roles that really aren’t preaching. Preacher, you are not supposed to be:

1. Advice Dispenser – You may think people have a high view of your wisdom, or your office, but don’t descend into constantly offering your advice. People may pay big money to go hear Self-Help Gurus, but they are almost certainly not coming to your church primarily because of your advice. Preach the Word.

2. Public Entertainer – Of course you shouldn’t be drab and dull, the Bible is exciting and energising and it is good news. This is precisely the point. Don’t feel you need to “make it interesting” and get caught up in the excitement of making people happy and descend into the role of public entertainer. Preach the Word.

3. Time Filler – Sometimes church can feel like a routine that must needs be fulfilled week after week. And sometimes it does seem that you could waffle and say nothing much between end of sung worship and closing hymn (and still get affirming handshakes afterwards). Don’t descend into filling time. Unique opportunity. Preach the Word.

4. Worship Balancer – You may never have thought of this, and I don’t want to give ideas, but some seem to see it as their job to bring balance. After all the love and tenderness of the singing (especially some strains of modern worship), don’t descend into a balancing act of bringing the punch, the guilt, the stress, the duty. Whiplash. Preach the Word.

5. Life Coach – Speaking of self-help gurus, we have a massive arsenal of feel good stories to use in the anthology of self-help called the Bible. Oh wait, don’t do that. Shifting to a human-centred handling of the Bible guts it of its power and point. Don’t descend into some sort of life coaching role. Better spouse. Better parent. Better bill-payer. Stop. Preach the Word.

We’ll finish the list tomorrow, but feel free to add your own…

One Simple Truth

June 27, 2011June 27, 2011 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

I have to admit, I like a lot of what Andy Stanley has to say about preaching. One thing he does well is to say all that needs to be said, but without over packing the sermon. He sometimes speaks of preaching “one simple truth.” This issue tends to stir a reaction one way or the other:

On the one hand there are those that simply can’t find their way through a download of exegetical information. It is all too foreign. Too distant. Too technical. Too alien. Too irrelevant. So a dense sermon will leave little to no mark on them, other than boring them away from God and His Word.

On the other hand there are those that simply can’t cope with a sermon so simple that they gain nothing new from the experience of listening. It is all too simple. Too be there, done that. Too basic. So a lightweight sermon will leave little to no mark on them, other than boring them away from God and His Word (and probably exacerbating their pride, which helps nobody!)

So what to do? I don’t advocate simplistic preaching, nor dense preaching. I think we need to prayerfully pursue an engaging and accessible re-presentation of the biblical text, seeking to apply the text to the hearts and lives of those listening. With this as our goal, we should be able to satisfy most who want something of substance. At the same time, a loving consideration of listeners will allow us to avoid going over the heads of the listeners. It is our job to make the difficult accessible.

There may be a handful that can’t ever be pleased. Anything more than “do this, do that” and it is too complex. Anything less than rabbinical midrash and never-before-seen pesher and it is too basic. But for the most part, engaged and touched listeners will not be thinking “too basic” or “too complex.”

It is the disengaged and untouched that tend to swell the ranks of dissenters and create the tension.

Preaching and Pride: A Deadly Terrain

June 24, 2011June 23, 2011 / Peter Mead / 9 Comments

Did you see the opening battle scene in Saving Private Ryan? Imagine the most frightening and dangerous terrain from any war movie. What if pride be the threat and preaching be the mission? Uh-oh, it looks dangerous:

1. Preaching involves speaking to others about their lives. Of course it can be “we” rather than just “you” (as if you are the finished product!), but even so, there is massive temptation to pride when being the dispenser of spiritual input.

2. You might be effective as a preacher. This doesn’t help because you will then receive affirmation and even admiration from people helped by your ministry. Warning!

3. You might be rubbish as a preacher, but never fear, there are plenty of people who will be polite and affirm your ministry anyway. False affirmation and feedback is a frequent feature of church lobbies and doorways.

4. You might be trained, equipped and well-informed. That might mean numerous years of high level academic training. Or it might mean you read a book during preparation. Either way, you may be, or perceive yourself to be, beyond others in your knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, careful!

5. Up-front ministry will get kudos other ministries won’t. So you’re up front in the church. People will talk to you and about you and they will see you and they know you. A ridiculously low-level celebrity status awaits everyone who steps into a pulpit. Warning!

6. What if you see lives change “under your ministry”? That’s a scary thought, since you might think you achieved that.

7. The enemy would love to see you believing the hype. Was it Spurgeon that was approached by a congregant and told that was the best sermon she’d ever heard, only to reply, “The Devil has already told me that.”

8. Public speaking presents continual opportunity to perform, or as we might say to children, “show off.” Listen to me, see what I know, watch as I impress you with my Greek, or cultural awareness, or translation critique, or ministry experience, or name drop, or … warning!

9. You are not yet glorified, so your flesh is still pre-programmed with a prideful operating system. So you are not immune to any of this.

10. You may find it hard to have genuine close friendships since you are in a position of influence, so you will be lonely and vulnerable while everybody affirms and endorses your spirituality.

11. You may find yourself, or put yourself, in a separate spiritual category to everyone else. Sort of a clerical bubble that promises immunity from spiritual struggle, but guarantees a greater exposure to the attractive fruit of temptation.

12. There are probably a dozen more reasons that pride may be lurking behind every pew as you stand to preach.

To be honest, I think the terrain looks absolutely frightening, terrifying, a deadly terrain and the only way to go there is in absolute reliance on God! Exactly.

If You Must Take Notes

June 22, 2011June 22, 2011 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

I have written before about studies I’ve read that show the best way to take notes as a listener is to listen wholeheartedly and then pause immediately after the message to write down highlights for a few minutes. This is so much better than trying to take notes and therefore always listening with half an ear to what is being said as you also use mental energy on processing the information onto paper.

The thing about taking notes is that it usually translates into a desire to primarily capture content. People passionately pursue a record of the points, perhaps listing cross-references and occasionally (if you’re blessed with a good preacher), writing down the main idea of the message. This secretarial quest supposedly then supplies a useful written record for later review and reprocessing of the message in the quietness of private quiet time.

What if the goal of preaching is not primarily information transfer? What if preaching is about much more than education? What if preaching is about encountering God in His Word and responding to Him, being transformed by Him, and seeing His Word applied in your life?

If you must take notes, how about trying this “holistic applicational” approach to note taking?

Divide your blank sheet into three equal columns. At the top of each column write A, B, C, or if you’re a doodler, draw a heart, a head and two hands.

In the A column make notes on how the message you are hearing is marking your affections, your heart. How is it stirring you to respond to God? How does it make you feel? How are your values and emotions and passions and desires being affected? If there’s nothing to write in this column, see if you can put something in the next column.

In the B column make notes on how the message you are hearing is shaping your beliefs, your thinking. How is it informing your worldview? What are you learning about God, about life, and the Bible, etc.? How is your thinking being changed? If there’s nothing to write in this column, see if you can at least put something in the next column.

In the C column make notes on how the message you are hearing is guiding your conduct. How is it applicable in your daily life? What practical, tangible, measurable steps can you take in response to this message? How will your life look different from the outside? If there’s nothing to write in this column either, pray for your preacher to recognize that preaching is more than covering familiar ancient territory in an un-engaging manner!

Ideally, a good sermon will offer all three columns something helpful. Too many sermons would be purely right column, or contradictory between columns (i.e.practical steps offered in column C, perhaps some information for column B, but a big fat “it’s making me feel bored, or guilty, or pressured” in column A!)

Oh, but where can we fit in the informational stuff, the outline, the cross-references? Hopefully your sheet would be either so full that you have no space for it, or so empty because you are genuinely engaged and forget the paper, but in reality I’m sure you’ll squeeze it in somewhere!

The Non-Definitive Sermon

June 21, 2011June 20, 2011 / Peter Mead / Leave a comment

I think we all have a tendency to want to give the definitive sermon when we preach. But maybe we shouldn’t. And probably we can’t.

On Saturday I was asked to speak on prayer and fasting. I decided not to try to be definitive or exhaustive. Instead I chose a foundational and central truth and then preached that with the aim of marking the listeners with that truth. In this case I chose to survey briefly the writers of the New Testament to hear a consistent witness to the “loving Father” aspect of prayer that I had chosen to emphasise. I covered fasting in about a paragraph at the end.

Definitive? Not at all. Helpful? Hopefully.

By choosing to preach this message as I did, I was choosing not to say so much. I didn’t mention repentance or thanksgiving, or worship, three key aspects of a healthy prayer life. I didn’t get into aspects of spiritual warfare, or do close analysis of biblical prayers. I didn’t fully engage with the challenges of unanswered prayer. I gave fasting only a cursory mention (although seemingly satisfying to people if feedback is anything to go by). It wasn’t definitive, it wasn’t meant to be.

Instead I tried to drive home the main idea of the message and hope that people will build on that in the future. I would like to take that foundation and build a series, but it was a one-off opportunity on this occasion.

So why didn’t I try to cover all these vital elements of prayer? Because a message that tries to do everything often achieves nothing. It is like the difference between a bed of nails and a single nail. The bed of nails may be impressive, but it leaves a superficial impression. The single nail will penetrate. In preaching terms, the single main idea arrow will cut to the heart more consistently than the exhaustive sermon’s magazine of smaller artillery.

Let’s not overestimate what can be accomplished in a single sermon, so that we do not underachieve by overpreaching. Preach specifically to penetrate substantially.

Father’s Day Preaching: Good Man, or Good God?

June 17, 2011June 17, 2011 / Peter Mead / 2 Comments

Just a quick post as Father’s Day is approaching (at least in the US and UK). If you are preaching this weekend, what are you preaching?

Are you preaching about how to be a good man? Or are you preaching a Christian message? Uh? Ok, deliberately inflammatory way of phrasing it, but still, let’s ponder it. How often do we take a God-centred Bible text (for it all is), and turn it into a man-centred moral tale? I suppose Father’s Day is a really ripe opportunity to preach moralism, or to preach legalism, or to preach sanctified humanism.

Be like Abraham. Don’t be like Abraham. Be like Jairus. Don’t be like David. Be like Joseph. Be good. Try harder. Be better. Demonstrate discipline. Have integrity. Don’t fail. Do try. Don’t fall short. Do be perfect.

But with all the plethora of possible Father’s Day narratives, let’s not miss that God is involved in every one of them. The Bible is not an anthology of tales with morals to put Aesop in the shadows. The Bible is the revelation of God’s heart and human response to that. By all means preach of a human father, good or bad. Affirm, encourage, train and exhort the Dads in the congregation. But do so in the context of a life of faith. No child should have to cope with a father who is good in his own strength.

Oh, and there’s the greater dimension behind it all. God knows what a Father should be, because He has always been just that. Not just for our sake. Not a temporary mask for the sake of puny humanity. Not a functional label hiding an entirely unknowable reality. God knows what it is to be Father and what it is to be Son, for He is eternally both. Why not let your church taste of the gripping reality of God as Trinity this Sunday? Surely nothing can lift the hearts of fathers like a glimpse of the true Father.

Father’s Day Post: What To Ask The Children

June 16, 2011June 12, 2011 / Peter Mead / Leave a comment

Coming home from church at Sunday lunch time is a regular opportunity to chat with the children. Have we forgotten anyone? How was Sunday School? What did you learn? All the normal interrogatives to engage the next generation after a morning of church.

But what about after the sermon? What should I ask? There are several options:

1. What did you learn? This is the Sunday School question transferred to the church service. Perhaps it implies that preaching is primarily educative. Perhaps it suggests that the goal of the listener is to be intellectually stimulated by the preaching of the Word so that they come away better informed. Certainly this is a fair question and there is a content to the Christian faith that makes the question worthwhile. I suspect children of experiential meditative religions don’t get asked what they learned after visiting the temple. And I suppose sometimes it is the only question I suspect might get anything out of the children. But having said that, this shouldn’t be the only question to ask, for education is not the only goal in preaching.

2. How did the sermon change you? I suppose this is a worthwhile question since church is meant to be transformative rather than merely repetitive. On the one hand this question might train an expectation of transformation at the hearing of God’s Word. On the other hand, it might fan the flames of self-focus that is the scourge of fallen humanity. Perhaps the question can be modified slightly, “how did the sermon change you in response to Christ?”

3. How did the sermon make you feel? This is a riskier question when the answer might easily be “bored” or “sleepy.” But contrary to popular opinion, it is a legitimate question. God didn’t just design our brains, but also our emotions. Every sermon will have an “affect” on us. Sadly, too many will numb souls, rather than igniting hearts with fire in response to the love of God. Too many sermons will depress the listeners, rather than stirring deep within the kind of passion for God that is only fitting for those who hear His Word preached.

Too often I only feel comfortable asking the first question. Perhaps this is something for preachers to ponder, as well as Dads.