How to Prepare to Preach

I recently started preaching on the weekends at a little church in Kentucky. It's been really good to get back into the routine of regularly preaching. Sometimes you don't really realize how much you love doing something until you go a while without doing it. Before taking this preaching position, I had only preached a couple times in the last eight months, and it's been refreshing to get back into the rhythm of researching and writing. And, as a result of all of this, I have been forced to think a little more lately about the nature and methods of effective preaching.

What makes good preaching? I suppose there are a million different answers to that question. You could read all sorts of books about preaching, and the author will tell what methods they think make the best sermons. It might be interesting illustrations, a clear structure, precise word choice, a memorable main idea, the ability to preach without notes, engaging visual aides, and a host of other things.

As I have been thinking about this for the past few days, though, I have been struck by what I now think is one of the most important parts of the sermon-writing process--to make it a practice to live with the text for the week. Make it your roommate. Your constant companion. When I'm working on a sermon during the week, it can be easy for me to distance that process from the rest of my activities. But in order to present God's Word in the best way possible on Sunday mornings, it's important for me to get that text inside of me. To internalize it. To let my thoughts and actions soak in it, the same way I let dirty dishes soak in water overnight sometimes.

Colossians 3:16 says, "Let the word of Christ dwell in your richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God." I like that idea of allowing the word of Christ to dwell within you. We need to allow God's Word to burrow down within us; to take residence there. This is important for the Christian life in general, but I think it is especially essential for preachers and teachers. Before we presume to proclaim and interpret God's Word, we need to first let it do its work in us.

One significant result of allowing God's Word to dwell within us before we preach or teach it is that it produces passion, and passion covers over a multitude of homiletical sins. If we take time during the week to meditate on, prayer over, and interact with our text, we can't help but get excited about it. It makes a good sermon or lesson into potentially a great one. It transforms it from a lecture about an abstract concept into a moment where we allow God to speak though us. As we allow the word of Christ to dwell within us, it's like we are sponges soaking up water, allowing us to wring ourselves out before our hearers.

If you're in a position where you preach or teach on a regular basis, I'd encourage you to make it a practice to live with the text for the entire week before you present it. Read over it a couple times each day, not just in sermon prep, but devotionally as well. Try to memorize a couple of the key verses. Let the message rattle around in your head while you go about your regular business. Because when we do that, we put ourselves in a position where God can use us as his herald, proclaiming his Word to the people. And somehow, I think that's what it's all about.

The Prayer of Martha

How big are your prayers?

At my small group tonight, we looked at the story of the raising of Lazarus from John 11. This is obviously one of the most famous of Jesus' miracles. Before the miracle, however, there is an interesting exchange between Jesus and Martha, Lazarus' sister. It goes like this:

Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you." Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again int he resurrection on the last day." Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?" She said to him, "Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world."

 As we discussed this story tonight, our leader suggested that Mary's words can give us an important lesson in prayer. If you look at how she says things, it seems as though she's asking Jesus to do something about the death of her brother without coming right out and saying it. "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you." Nowhere in these statements does she say, "Jesus, raise my brother." She simply acknowledges that Jesus has the ability, and she states it in a way that suggests that she this is what she is asking Jesus to do. She makes a request of Jesus with full confidence that he is able to do it, but she does it without demanding that Jesus do what she wants. And that's not a bad way to pray.

I think it's pretty safe to classify a request for Jesus to raise someone from the dead as a "big request." You know what I mean. There's are small requests ("God, give me safety as I drive the two blocks to Taco Bell to pick up some burritos") and big requests ("God, heal my father who's dying of cancer and has been given two months to live"). The raising of Lazarus fits in the latter category, and the way Martha handles it can teach us something about how we too should come to God with big prayers.

What can happen is that we fall into one of two extremes. On the one hand, we can be fearful to present any big prayers to God at all. We doubt in the efficacy of our prayers, so we don't even bring it up when there is something we really want. We think God is too busy or just doesn't care enough to answer our prayers, or maybe he's not even able. Praying big sets us up for disappointment, and we are afraid that our faith will be rattled if God doesn't answer our prayer in the way we would like. So it's safer not to pray at all, and to just let the course of events proceed as they will.

On the other hand, we can demand that God answer our prayers. We can feel that we have a right to answered prayers. As though God owes it to us to do what we ask. We can be like the Pharisees, who come to Jesus and demand a miraculous sign. We can become belligerent and whiny, forgetting that God is the Creator, and we are the creatures.

I think Martha's way is better. She petitions Christ with confidence, knowing that he has the power (and the care) to do something about Lazarus' death. But at the same time, she recognizes that she does not have Jesus on a leash, and that Jesus' way is best. So we, we don't need to be afraid to present big prayers to God. He is the Father who delights to give his children good things. And yet, we need to always remember that he sees the big picture, and his plans always prove to be better than what we can come up with ourselves.

Just Me and a Can of Vanilla Coke

Today is Valentine's Day. It's a nice opportunity for people in relationships to go out for an enjoyable evening together. If a guy does something special for his girl today, I guess it makes up for all the other days when he doesn't really give a care. It's a nice system, really. It's also a good time for people to eat craploads of candy in the name of love. Any day that is so closely associated with chocolate is a good one in my book.

That's all well and good. The problem, however, is that there are many people, including me, who aren't part of a relationship. By it's nature, Valentine's Day is exclusive, and because of this, you'll often hear single people labeling it "Singles' Awareness Day." That's kind of silly. It means imposing a meaning on a holiday that is the complete opposite of what that day really is. It's like calling the 4th of July "King George III Day."

Even though I think the idea of a Singles' Awareness Day violates the intent of Valentine's, I don't have much to say to people in relationships. Besides, none of them will read this, because they're all too busy eating fancy pasta dinners and watching sappy movies. So this one is for all the single ladies (Wa-ah-oh....). And the single dudes. And whoever else might want to read, I suppose. I'm not picky.

Anyways, here's a list of "The Best Things About Being Single." And there aren't many people as qualified for writing such as a list as I am. I've had lots of practice in this realm. Enjoy.

-When I get ice cream, I don't have to share any with a girlfriend who says, "Let me try a bite of yours, and you can have a bite of mine." If I had wanted the kind she has, I would have ordered that instead.
-I don't get beat up by a giant football players who hit on my girlfriend and get mad when I stand up to them about it. Those situations would never end well for me.
-I can wear the same pair of pants for like, ten days a row, and chances are no one will notice.
-I can spend my evening watching Jeopardy and House instead of watching "The Vow" like a sucker.
-I don't have to worry about all my girlfriend's friends accidentally falling in love with me. That stuff is inevitable for some of us.
-My phone battery lasts a really long time before I have to recharge it.
-I can listen to whatever music I want in the car, and no one is going to touch the dial.
-Speaking of driving, I don't have to readjust my seat and mirror after a girlfriend has borrowed my car.
-I still have time to track down Katie the Bank Teller. She's out there somewhere.
-I can always clean up my apartment tomorrow.
-My name has become attached with phrases signaling the single life, such as "Bystander Effect" and "I don't really like coffee that much." It's all about branding.
-I get better gas mileage in my car because I don't have the extra weight of another person.
-I've never seen Twilight.
-I can giggle when someone says stuff like "booger" or "fart" without being scolded for being immature.
-My diet consists primarily of the basic food groups--meat, potatoes, baked beans, pizza, and nutty bars. No one is trying to stuff rabbit food or grass clippings down my gullet.
-The money in my bank account is dwindling at a slower pace than it otherwise would.
-I don't have to go out on Friday nights. Instead, I'm free to stay home and make sure no one breaks in to steal my Planet of the Apes poster. I do live in the 'hood, after all.

If you're single, leave a comment with some other good things about it, and have a great Valentine's/Singles Awareness/Chocolate Appreciation Day.

Refining

I'm afraid to write this post.

I fear that I'm going to be opening myself up to a world of hurt. It's like I'm posting a giant target to my blog and to my pride, saying, "C'mon kids, pick up a battleaxe and see how close you can get to the bullseye."

But all fears aside, I was thinking the other day about how one change that has occurred in our culture over the years is that we have become very hesitant around criticism--both in giving it and receiving it. We shy away from saying anything critical about a person's work (to their face, anyway), and we don't really want people to point out the weaknesses in our own work. We only desire compliments and praise. We want people to say, "Wow, that was a great presentation" or "This is the best blog post I have ever read in my entire life, and I printed it out and put it in a golden frame, and I took the picture of my family down from the wall and hung that there instead."

What can end up happening, though, is that our work never really improves. We get content because we are only receiving positive feedback, and we never strive to do anything better.

Last week I read a biography about C.S. Lewis entitled Jack's Life, written by his step-son Douglas Gresham. In one chapter, Gresham talks about the Inklings--a group made up of Lewis and several friends (including J.R.R. Tolkien) that would meet a couple times a week to talk about literature and the like. In this group, members would often show the others what they had been working on in order to get feedback. For example, The Lord of the Rings was discussed in Inklings meetings before it was ever published, as was The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Here's what Gresham says about these meetings:

The Inklings was a sort of refining furnace for great writings. Chapters would be read aloud and then discussed by all who were present. Well-written, worthwhile material would be joyfully received and praised as it deserved, but bad material would be mercilessly cut to pieces under the withering scorn of some of the greatest literary minds of the twentieth century. (110)

That paragraph made me chuckle when I read it. Wouldn't it be terrifying to bring some poem that you had written to one of these meetings, and then to have the likes of Tolkien and Lewis pick it apart? But that's what made the writings of this group so good. What is especially interesting to me is that Gresham points out that this process of criticism didn't damage the members' relationships. They remained the best of friends because they understood that a critique of one's work didn't mean an attack on that person. It was a way of fostering improvement.

Again, that's something that we often forget today, so we make sure that no one has a chance of offer an criticism on what we do at all. I saw a Saturday Night Live sketch recently where they create a show called "You Can Do Anything: The only show that celebrates the incredibly high self-esteem of the You-Tube generation." The show features three guests. The first one fails to juggle ten bowling pins and then immediately exclaims "I juggled!" The second sings a song he wrote and remarks" I've never been punched!" And the last attempts Chinese calligraphy while performing an Irish dance and points out, "I went to a school with no grades!"

What the sketch shows in a satirical way is that, when people never receive genuine criticism, they can go on in mediocre work unhindered. But, of course, this isn't good for the individual or for society as a whole. We need that process of refining so that we can truly produce the best work we can.

Of course, all such criticism must be done in a loving and gentle manner. We don't want to crush people with harsh comments, nor should we make it our mission to seek out and draw attention to every mistake and weakness we can find. But we should learn to accept and receive criticism gracefully, as this will refine what we do and make it better in the future.

Again, I'm scared to publish this, because what I'm saying is, "Feel free to criticize what you read!" So please...be kind.

Rhythm

Everyone has some annoying habits of which they are unaware. Some of us have more than others. I think my most obnoxious habit (if you know of something I do that is more obnoxious, I guess you're free to let me know in the comments) is that I'm often tapping on something. I'll get a beat or a song in my head, and I have the unconscious urge to play it out on whatever is handy--my knees, a table, a soda can, the space between my knuckles, a pretty girl's shoulder (smooth, I know). I'm a walking percussion section. I'm just sad that sometimes, other people don't enjoy my fat beats quite as much as I do.

It's somewhat of a little-known-fact that I play the drums. When people learn that about me, they often say something like, "Really? I never would have figured that." (They say the same sort of thing when I tell them I like to play basketball, or when I tell them I had a girlfriend once.) I think that's why I'm often tapping on things. I feel rhythm. I notice patterns, and I play those patterns out in my mindless movements. 

I've been thinking about how my penchant for rhythm shows up in other ways in my life. Lately I have been struggling with the fact that, in my present situation, my life feels out of sync. My job requires that I work on a rotating schedule, meaning that it always changes. Some days I'll work in the morning, some days in the evening. Some days I'll work four hours, some days eight hours. Every day is different, and every week is different yet. There isn't any continuity. No rhythm. 

I've noticed that when that large of a chunk of my time lacks rhythm, it's really difficult for me to be productive with the rest of my time. If I have X number of open hours in my week that I can use for homework, chores, or other responsibilities, I tend to misuse when they are scattered randomly throughout the week. I need the routine, the consistency, in order to maximize all of my time.

Even though I enjoy routine and rhythm, I would still consider myself a flexible person. I think of flexibility as the ability to divert from the routine. A good drummer must be able to play a consistent beat, but he will still throw in a few aberrations to mix it up. That's what a flexible person can do. He doesn't mind stepping away from the routine for a moment when circumstances require it. 

To divert from a rhythm, however, a rhythm must first exist. That's been my frustration. Each week is like being in a boat at sea during a storm, and I never get a chance to step onto dry land.

I write all of this simply to point out that it's important for each of us to understand how we best use time and to create systems that allow us to use it to its fullest potential. Since much of my scheduling is out of my control, it helps me to make a daily schedule at the beginning of each week. I break up each day into various activities that I need to get done and find a place for them. Then I hang the thing on my fridge, and it helps me stay on track and not get carried away by distractions. So, for 9:30 on Tuesday this week, it tells me to write a blog post. And here I am.

I'm interested to hear--how do you prefer your time to be organized? Are you like me, with a preference for routine but willing to mix it up when duty calls? Or are you even more attached to routine, so that any diversion upsets the order? Or maybe you're on the other complete other end, and you hate routine, and you want every single day to be different? Comment it up.

The Road of Waiting

Jesus healed a lot of people during his ministry. All over the place in the gospels, we hear about people bringing him people who are blind, mute, paralyzed, demon-possessed, etc. It's maybe one of the most distinctive features about his ministry. But because I read about these healings so often, it can be easy for me to just skip over them in my study. It becomes same old, same old.

At my small group Bible study the other night, we were talking about the healing of the official's son in John 4, when an idea came running through my mind that I had never thought of before. In John 4:46-54, an official comes to Jesus and asks that he would heal his son, who is ill and near death. Jesus tells the man to go home and that his son would live. As he's on his way, some of his servants meet him and inform him that his son is beginning to recover, noting that his turnaround happened at the same time Jesus was speaking with the official.

In our discussion, we were talking about why this story is included in John's gospel. Every healing that Jesus did isn't recorded in the gospels, and John includes less miracles than the other three. So why pick this one?

There is something unique about this story about the official's son, and it's something that I think can teach us as well. The official gives us an important lesson in faith. The way in which his son was healed is a little different than most of the healings Jesus did. In most cases, there is no time between when Jesus declares healing and when we see the person healed. If I bring my demon-possessed kid to Jesus and ask him to cast out the demon, he does it and I see right away that what Jesus said has come to be. But in the case of this official, there is a waiting period. Jesus announces that his son would be healed, and then the man has to turn around and walk home, not really sure if Jesus had actually healed his son or if it was just an empty promise. He's on the road for an entire day before he finds out that his son is recovering. He's walking that road without confirmation that what Jesus says actually happens. But the text tells us that, while he was on the road, this man believed that what Jesus said would be true (Jn. 4:50). He had faith in Jesus' promise, even though he couldn't see its fulfillment quite yet.

I find this interesting, especially in the context of John's gospel. John tells us about some other promises that Jesus makes. For example, in the fourteenth chapter, Jesus says that he is leaving to prepare a place for his followers. He says that he'll return and take us there with him. He promises to send his disciples another Counselor, the Holy Spirit, in the meantime. He says that if we remain in him the way a branch remains connected to the vine, we'll bear much fruit. He says that we'll have trouble in the world, but that we can be confident because he has overcome the world.

What do we do with all these promises? We adopt the attitude of the official in John 4. We believe. We have faith. Even when we can't see how or when Jesus' promises will come to fulfillment, we trust in him nonetheless. Of course, some of the promises Jesus makes in John have already been fulfilled. The Holy Spirit came to the church at Pentecost in Acts 2. But for some of those other promises, we haven't experienced the end result yet. We're still waiting for Jesus to come get us and take us to the Father's house. We're living in this time between the announcement of blessing and its manifestation. We're walking that same road the official walked--from Jesus to his son, waiting to hear that Jesus was right.

So my encouragement is simple. Believe. Jesus has made good on all his promises so far. And there are times when life seems too out of control, too tragic, for him to bring good into it. It tests our patience and our perseverance. But Jesus proves true. The challenge for us is to trustfully follow.

Twitterpated

A few days ago, I took a big step in catching up with my generation. I started a Twitter account. I remember a few years ago when I first heard about Twitter from my friend Blake. I told him I thought it was a silly idea. Facebook already had status updates. Why would I need yet another way to let the world know what I was doing at any given moment?

I also remember when I was a senior in high school and I first heard about Facebook from my friend Charlie. In a similar way, I thought it was a waste. I said, "So...you can get on this website, and people who are already your friends in real life will tell you that they're your friend." I even wrote an article in my school newspaper predicting that Facebook would be an obsolete fad within six months. Nostradamus I ain't.

Same thing when texting first started to get big in our culture. I figured, "Why would I take time to type out a message to someone if I needed to talk to them? Why not just call?"

Nowadays, I have texting, and I also have a Facebook and a Twitter. I spend way, waaaay too much time on each of these phenomena. And, in many ways, I like them. Texting lets me shoot quick messages when I don't want to get into a whole conversation, and it lets me stay in contact with some people whom it would feel awkward to call. Facebook lets me stay in touch with people I've met all over the country. Twitter gives me a platform for all of the little pseudo-thoughts that can't be developed into blog posts. So each of these advances in social technology has value.

However, I've been thinking some about the effect such things have on the way we relate and communicate with one another, and not all of it is positive. We have become a culture that is satisfied with sound bites. Don't have a real conversation with me; just tell me what's on your mind in 140 characters or less. Don't ask me about my trip to NYC; just hit "like" on my pictures. We want our interactions with one another to be short and sweet, to be to the point. We look at the bottom line without really caring about what it takes to get there. The great danger, I think, is that we can forget how to truly relate with others in a meaningful way.

Life isn't made of sound bites. It's made of emotions, dreams, frustrations. It's made of series of seemingly insignificant events: meals, traffic jams, stubbed toes, sunsets, and jokes. It's made of stories. And these are stories that can't be expressed in a couple lines of text. So if someone is really going to relate to me beyond a surface-level interaction, he needs to be able to see beyond the sound bite. We know how to broadcast highlights of our days through hashtags, but we may have forgotten how to have a 30-minute conversation over dinner.

Today I listened to a sermon by Matt Proctor, the president of my alma mater, Ozark Christian College. In it, he said that the danger for this generation is that we have traded the risks of reality for the safety of virtual reality. In the sermon, Matt is talking about how we turn inward instead of walking out in faith in the work God has for us, but I think the same observation applies to how we relate with one another. A real relationship is risky. A digital persona won't often reject me, and if it does, it really doesn't sting that badly. But a flesh-and-blood person...such an entity can do some real damage to my person.

Sometimes I think that I would have fit in better with my world if I had been born 50 years earlier. I would rather read a printed edition of a book than on an e-reader. My life would move along just fine if I didn't have internet access in my pocket 24/7. I think writing a letter on paper and sending it in the mail is classy. It shows that I care enough about what I'm communicating to take the time to write it out, and get a couple hand cramps along the way. It's romantic. (Do you think that when my generation is old, women will pull up files of "love texts" that they got from their husbands when they were dating the way women keep love letters?)

We have all of this information available, but we're not that informed. We know a little bit about a lot of topics, but we don't know a lot about much. And we have all of this social media, but we might be one of the least social generations in history. You can know a little bit about a lot of people without knowing anyone deeply.

What do you think? What advantages does social technology possess? What dangers come with it?