Archive for the 'preaching' Category

Grief’s Ability to Hang Around

Published
by
Mike
on March 18, 2008
in grief and preaching
. 13 Comments

A friend of mine saw an 84-year-old patient and asked her how she was doing. “I’m a bit sad today,” she said. “It’s the anniversary of my daughter’s death.”

He immediately imagined what it must be have been like for her to lose her adult daughter. He wondered if this daughter had her own children and perhaps grandchildren.

“I’m so sorry. How long ago did she pass away?”

“Sixty-two years ago,” the woman replied.

Yes, grief is like that. She’d never forgotten that precious three year old who’d been struck by a disease that today could have been treated routinely.

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“Every Sunday I preach to at least three people who are dying of something. My general rule of thumb is this: any sermon I preach has to be worth the time they are giving to it.” Barbara Brown Taylor

Wailing Into Dancing

Published
by
Mike
on November 19, 2007
in Church and preaching
. 32 Comments

An odd thing happened to me yesterday just as I got up to preach. I got so tickled I couldn’t speak. Could barely squeak out a few words.

Children of Highland have been telling the stories each week that I’m preaching on in this series called “Storybook Lives.” Some are brief; some verbose. Some serious; some more playful. All have been wonderful.

The six year old who told the story yesterday was energetic, creative, and breathless. And, without meaning to be, she was just really funny.

I’d watched the video a couple times, but for some reason it just sent me over the edge when I watched it in worship. And I couldn’t recover. I desperately looked for someone down front to come up and pray for me since I was afraid that if I prayed I’d be giggling and guffawing all the way through. It was hard to find someone capable of doing so. The laughter bug was infectuous. I glanced down at Bob A., one of my elders. No way. His shoulders were bouncing and tears were rolling down his face. I kept scanning and found Bob S., who came up shaking his head and said to me under his breath, “I’m not sure this is going to go any better.” But it did, as he asked God to pour through me the gift of preaching.

Someone told me this was the second time she’d see me incapable of even speaking. The first time was a few years ago when I took the jogging stroller that I’d pushed Megan in thousands of miles as an illustration. But the moment I touched it, I fell apart. It caught me by surprise. It was years after my daughter’s death and I had known what I was going to say. But when I touched the stroller in the context of worship, I had a meltdown.

There were tears again yesterday. But this time they were tears of laughter.

Ironically, our call to worship yesterday was Psalm 30: “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. . . . You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.”

At least for that one day, it was certainly true!

Joining God in His Work

Published
by
Mike
on May 21, 2007
in missional and preaching
. 23 Comments

This weekend was full of chances to call people to the way of Christ:

A wedding (my third this spring) — for “the girl next door.” Literally, the young woman who was six when I became her minister and seven when we became her next door neighbors.

Senior Sunday — 59 seniors were listed on the back of the bulletin. That’s a lot of people. And it’s the first time I can remember a “whoop” every time it was mentioned that someone was going to Texas A&M. (We’ll be checking hidden security cameras later to find out where that was coming from!)

Baccalaureate for Wylie High School. We actually had six Wylie graduates from our youth group this year, which was as many as I can remember. (We’re largely an AHS youth group.)

There were so many strengths in my ministry training — especially in languages and exegesis. But there were some holes, too. I don’t remember anyone ever saying, “By the way, here’s what you do when you’re asked to be involved in a funeral.” Or a wedding. To say nothing of church leadership, conflict resolution, etc. So many good changes have been made in the last three decades in ministry training.

The biggest change is helping ministers understand how to lead a church (or plant a church!) that knows how to live as missionaries in a broken world. It’s long past time for the church to quit throwing its weight around, whining because America has changed. It’s time for us to join God in what he’s doing around the world in bringing good news to the poor, to the broken-hearted, and to the outcasts.

Living Inside the World of Scripture

Published
by
Mike
on March 26, 2007
in preaching and sports
. 41 Comments

I was only two for four on my picks for the Final Four. UNC lost in OT, and A&M was a point short. However, check out the third comment from that post. Congrats, Randy, for getting all four!

We’re also not having much luck guessing the date of our granddaughter’s arrival. She was due the 19th, but we’re still waiting for THE CALL . . . .

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Here’s perhaps the biggest change in my understanding of preaching through the years.

I used to think that I was supposed to make scripture relevant. It’s an old book speaking to a modern world. Now, however, I see that this is too low a view of scripture and too high a view of our “modern” world.

Now I see my job as inviting people to enter into the world of scripture — a world that is hauntingly familiar and yet mysteriously dissimilar.

The key is imagination. I think I’m to help people (including, of course, myself) imagine what a truly human life might look like in light of Easter. What might a gospeled life look like?

I used to flatten scripture, I think. It became a sermon source of rules and regs. It was full of insightful points waiting to be made.

Now as I get to live inside the story world of the Bible, I realize even more why one could say that the word of God is living and active and sharper than any double-edged sword.

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When I agreed to spend an hour in the dunking booth for our youth group’s Mexico missions fund-raiser, there are three things I didn’t know:

1. How cool Saturday would be with overcast skies;

2. How frigid the water would be; and

3. How many kids would have “unlimited” bracelets, allowing them to throw as many times as they want.

I have a great picture of one of our third graders holding up all ten fingers — to represent the ten times he dunked Preacher Mike.

I need to thank Randy Harris, who offered to pay for the first 50 throws by any of our ACU students who wanted to dunk me. I heard a couple of our students mumbling something about the first exam as they fired away.

Please don’t worry about me. Hypothermia lifted after a water-heater-emptying shower.

Sunday After Sunday

Published
by
Mike
on February 18, 2007
in memories and preaching
. 27 Comments

I got a note from a friend of mine on the West Coast who’s been asked to preach next weekend. He — a guy who regularly does stuff that would make me shudder! — said it’s one of the most difficult things he’s ever asked to do. He asked how I’ve done it week after week, year after year, decade after decade.

The question made me tired. That IS a lot of sermons.

I started fulltime in 1982 with a wonderful church in Wilmington, NC, that gave me the freedom to grow into the job. And since then, it’s been Sunday after Sunday (with plenty of breaks), year after year, decade after decade.

Sometimes I think I’m about out of gas. Are there older preachers out there? Have you had the same feeling? Sometimes I think I’ve given what I have to give.

Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s a privilege. I get to lead the church in the Lord’s Prayer. I get to lay my hands on babies to represent the church, saying, “May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be on you forever.” I get to see the faces of people as the word of God is spoken in their midst. I see the tears of hope-within-grief; I see the yawns from exhaustion. I get to sit on row one, right in front of Bob and Roye Sue. I’m permitted to listen to people remember at times of death. I’m still in the sanctuary as the last words are spoken over coffins by children and spouses.

I can’t ever imagine regretting all these Sundays. And years. And decades.

Thursdays

Published
by
Mike
on February 1, 2007
in preaching and scripture
. 46 Comments

Thursdays.

For a couple decades now, Thursdays have been the day I’ve tried to devote to preparing and writing a sermon. Life’s not that smooth, of course. You can’t always protect one day. And really the sermon begins much earlier as ideas are worked over. But still, Thursdays have typically been the day when all that comes together.

When I was young, I had a kind of formula for working through a text and coming to a sermon. That’s a good thing, I think. It’s why sports always begin with fundamentals.

But as I’ve aged, I feel less like I’m doing something to the text and more like scripture is doing something to me. So much of my sermon preparation is mulling: reading the words slowly again and again . . . praying through the words, soaking up the words of gospel that they proclaim . . . letting my imagination run free as the sermon begins to appear as a journey. (In my earliest days, the sermon was like classic oratory — complete with intro, points, and conclusion. Now it’s a journey — a journey with that has a specific beginning and a specific ending but with many bends along the way. [Sometimes, of course, that journey comes with intro, points, and conclusion!])

There’s still the hard work. But even that is part of the mulling. As I translate the text (NT) from Greek and as I read through my Spanish testament, I usually don’t think I’m gaining any special insider’s knowledge. But it forces me to slow down and to dwell on words and phrases and images. It allows me to ask questions: What difference does this make? How do these words speak words of good news? Do they sharpen our understanding of discipleship, of community, and of mission? Do they call for change? How do they point to Jesus?

The older I get, the more I realize what people don’t need and what people really DO need: the good news that the reign of God has broken in through the life, death, resurrection, and presence of Jesus in our midst. A new day has come. Hope abounds.

Tony Campolo wrote a book called It’s Friday But Sunday’s Comin’.

Someday maybe I’ll write a preaching book called It’s Thursday But Sunday’s Coming.

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I’m feeling in the minority right now. No governor or senator from my state has yet announced a presidential bid for 2008.

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The “Letters to the Editor” section of the Abilene Reporter-News has been quite active since the city council voted to ban smoking in all restaurants and bars. Most of the rhetoric has been libertarian concerns (the government shouldn’t tell anyone, including business owners, what they have to do) vs. communitarian concerns. It’s been very interesting.

Boy Preacher

Published
by
Mike
on January 25, 2007
in memories and preaching
. 60 Comments

My senior year at Harding, I was unleashed on two unsuspecting congregations: one in Alread (go to Clinton and then west on hwy 16 through beautiful Ozark hills), and then one in Sheridan.

Here’s what I remember about that year of preaching:

1. I’m glad no one was taping sermons then. I’m especially thankful there are no surviving MP3s for a podcast. (Note to anyone in Alread and Sheridan: if there are any surviving reel-to-reel copies, I’d be willing to buy them in order to destroy them.)

2. I loved the drive time. A beautiful blonde was sitting by my side every mile of the way.

3. Even if I didn’t feed the congregation well, they certainly fed us well! It was a nice break from the regular fare of Pattie Cobb cafeteria on the Harding campus. (Does anyone else remember eating there?) We’re talking home-grown vegies and large quantities of beef.

4. There was great joy in standing before the church speaking about things that matter. My life hadn’t caught up to the things I spoke about — it hasn’t yet! — and yet there was electricity in speaking words of faith and hope.

5. This tiny church (Alread) and small church (Sheridan) launched me with encouragement and compassion. How many churches are there out there — within driving distance of Abilene, Searcy, Oklahoma City, Lubbock, Henderson, Nashville, Malibu, etc.– that have graciously listened to people who knew way more about Greek and Hebrew than they yet knew about life? Blessed are the encouragers of the world.

Calling All Peacemakers

Published
by
Mike
on January 10, 2007
in Baseball, justice, missional and preaching
. 42 Comments

I guess the medicine going directly into my knee — medicine that runs out sometime today! — is responsible for keeping me awake through the night. So far I’ve had LOTS of time to read. Watch for coming blogs about books by Lawrence Wright, Sam Harris, and Greg Boyd.

But I also had time to listen to a message that was recommended to me by a blog reader who had heard me preach on some of the themes in the sermon.

Find 50 minutes and listen to this incredible message by Rob Bell. Go to this site, and find message #411 (December 10, 2006).

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I haven’t yet gotten to listen to Rick Atchley’s three lessons on “The Both/And Church” (explaining their decision to add an instrumental service), but they are found here.

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Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn made it easily into the Baseball Hall of Fame. But here’s my question: what 13 people voted AGAINST Gwynn? The man played two decades with the same team, and retired with a lifetime .338 batting average. He’s among the very best the game has ever seen.

Caught in the Act

Published
by
Mike
on January 4, 2007
in preaching
. 96 Comments

I’ve heard a couple more stories recently of preachers “caught in the act.”

No — not THAT act. Not adultery, but plagiarism.

Just recently I heard the sad story of a beloved minister who, perhaps in his exhaustion, began lifting sermons in whole from a great Christian Church preacher. Word-for-word. He even told the man’s personal stories as if they were his own personal stories. Even more sadly, once he was confronted about it, he continued to do it.

There is no excuse for that. It’s wrong.

We all borrow from others. I’ve been impacted by the books of Wright, Brueggemann, Crabb, Willard, and Peterson — books that have seeped into my bones. I’m sure there are times that their words come out — not verbatim, but in essence — without my even knowing it. We’ve heard good stories and illustrations that we’ve retold. We’ve retold humorous quips. We’ve gotten sermon thoughts that proved fruitful later in our own planning.

There’s nothing wrong with that. Who, after all, has a truly original thought?

But that must not be an excuse for the stealing involved in lifting sermons. When you cut-and-paste someone else’s message while pretending it’s yours, that’s wrong. When you tell another’s story as if it happened to you, that’s wrong.

I remember as a young man hearing about an older minister in the South who was confronted because he was just buying Swindoll books and preaching his sermons — without even bothering to disguise it. His sermon series carried the title of the book and the individual sermons had the titles of the chapters. When challenged about it, he simply replied: “I bought the book. It’s my material.”

That is grounds for dismissal.

Here’s the thing: a story doesn’t lose any power by giving the source. It doesn’t have to be YOUR story. It never diminishes the impact to say that you were deeply impacted by a book you read or a sermon you heard.

When we were first married, I went through my Jim McGuiggan stage. (I’m still sort of in that stage — I just don’t get to hear him often enough.) I listened to his tapes . . . until Diane cut me off. She said I was developing an Irish accent.

Some need to be cut off from sermons. They need to quit listening to the tapes, quit downloading the MP3s, and unsubscribe to the podcasts. They’re not wrong in themselves; but if they become your shortcut that takes the place of arduous, prayerful preparation, then drop them!

Perhaps part of the blame lies with the pressure that some churches put on their ministers. They expect them to be pastoral, to be witty, to be insightful, to be humorous, and to be deep. Part David Letterman, part N. T. Wright.

If you’re a church leader, affirm the leadership and teaching of your ministers that is solid, biblical, and congregationally pastoral. Make sure the ones preaching and teaching are given time to prepare. Consider giving them an allowance so they have resources to buy good books and journals. Think about offering them sabbatical time each year just for study and prayer–time that is added to their regular vacation time. These resources and this time are not only for the benefit of the minister; they’re also for the good of the church! (By the way, these are things I’m generously offered at Highland. I’d just like to see others follow that practice.)

But, having said that, the blame can’t be placed primarily at the feet of the church. What I’m talking about is unethical. It is a red flag — just as an affair is — that something is deeply wrong.

If I hear you preach, I don’t want to hear a Bob Russell sermon. I’m sure it would be solid and biblical. But if I want to hear a BR sermon, I’ll listen to BR. If I hear you preach, I want to hear YOU. Maybe it’ll include a point or an illustration you first heard from Bob Russell. But the sermon — the heart of what you’re saying — is what you’ve agonized over. It’s what the good news of Christ has said to you on behalf of the church that week. It is passionate, prayerful, and gospel-formed. That’s what I want — and need! — to hear. For me it doesn’t have to be funny; it doesn’t have to be a home run.

In reality, it may include a LOT of things you’ve heard and read from others. But it is YOUR message. It bears your sweat; it is birthed from your confrontation with text and gospel; it is geared toward your community of faith. It is God pouring through you the gift of preaching.

Patiently Waiting for the Muse

Published
by
Mike
on October 19, 2006
in preaching
. 34 Comments

I had lunch recently with a couple twentysomething ministers. They were asking questions about creativity and preaching. So here’s what I told them:

Sometimes I can’t find a creative thought. I study, pray, work, study, and pray. My text has been translated; I’ve read it again and again in its context; I’ve prayed through it. But not one creative thought comes. At this point a sermon would be like a running commentary. I try to GET CREATIVE, but it’s like trying to hit a 98 mph fastball with a baseball that’s been shrunk down to the size of a golf ball.

But there are moments.

Sometimes it’s a creative day or a creative couple days. Times when the baseball has slowed down and has gotten back to normal size. Instead of the raw data of exegesis, I’m able to move from science to art. Connections are made. A journey for the message begins to form. I love days like this.

And then there are times — rare, really — when it’s more like hitting a beach ball coming at 20 mph. I occasionally have moments when all the fog lifts and everything falls into place. I can’t write quickly enough. I’ve had a spurt as short as fifteen minutes when a month’s worth of sermons came spilling out.

Here’s the problem: I don’t know how to control the muse. I can’t beg her to appear and I can’t cajol her through sleep, study, or exercise. She just shows up.

In the meantime, I told these guys, it’s important to be disciplined about your work: your study of the word, your praying of the word, and your living of the word.

Sometimes the creative burst comes early with plenty of lead time. Sometimes it shows up rather late. But when it comes, and thank God it usually does, you smile, soak it in, and write down every thought that comes.