(In)experience Counts

Who understands does not preach;
Who preaches does not understand.
- Tao Teh Ching, 56 (Merel Translation)

I've been blessed, perhaps called, to preach several times at the church where I work. Truth be told, this is unusual. I don't hold a MDiv and I'm not currently in seminary. I'm "simply" a youth director who has been given a great opportunity.

I've now preached five times in the last year and a half, surely no Guinness record. The last two times have probably been the toughest. Not because I thought it had all been said before. Not because I had difficult passages (though you try preaching on the slaughter of innocents six days after Christmas). Not because I've had little to no 'proper' training in public speaking. The reason they've been tough is this: somewhere along the line I realized that I have no idea what I'm doing (in some enigmatic, humbling, "place in the world" sense).

Preparing a sermon, for me, requires asking countless questions. Here are a few in no particular order...

"What's the historical and societal context of this passage?"

"How is God speaking to me / the body of Christ / our culture in this passage?"

"What hook can I pull from the text?"

"What personal story might bring the theme home for the listener (any listener)?"

And perhaps the toughest...

"What the hell is my title going to be?!?" My last title search, ending with A Steady Guide for the ______ Journey, nearly drove our office manager to poison my coffee.

Still, bearing your soul and potentially showing your insanity before a large group of people is a challenging prospect. Maybe that's why I haven't fully embraced the concept of blogging.

Ultimately the prep questions shore themselves up through study, prayer, procrastination, preaching to an empty sanctuary (woodshedding, like in the jazz tradition), and one or two mild panic attacks.

Ultimately I stand before 300 people on any given Sunday and share what insight I've gleaned from immersing myself in passages of scripture assigned by the lectionary.

Ultimately two services pass, two nearly identical sermons are given, and many elderly ladies (whose names I still haven't learned after 31 months) tell me that I'm called to be a preacher.

It's a funny thing, but I've come to realize it's not just some great resume-enhancing experience, but a true, bring-you-to-your-knees calling.

One of the best preachers I know once said that preaching can be "humiliating." Truer words have rarely been spoken.