Once More

August 19, 2018

It’s a love-hate relationship. Every Sunday morning my stomach is in knots. I can’t eat; I feel skitterish inside as I pace and pray, feeling totally inadequate for the task that confronts me. I ask myself over and over, “What make you think you can do this?” and I can think of a dozen or more reasons why I cannot and should not. But I can’t put it off forever, and at 10:30 a.m., I dive in, ready or not. And when 11:30 rolls around, I am so glad to be finished once more. 

Then Sunday afternoon, my mind is whirling once more, reviewing the text and wondering what I can bring out of it that has any value for anyone. If I were only delivering a lecture, it would be easy. I could prepare my remarks, get up in front of people, and say what I had to say; end of story. Instead, I’m preaching; trying to faithfully present the Word of God to the people of God in a way that is clear and convincing. A couple weeks ago, one of our ladies paid me a wonderful compliment when she said I don’t talk over their heads like some preachers she knew had done. My first thought was that it is hard talking over people’s heads when you aren’t particularly smart or scholarly yourself, but I understand and appreciate what she was telling me. My second thought was, But that’s my job—if I’m talking over people’s heads, I’m not doing my job.”

In fact, it isn’t easy being plain spoken. I know more than a few preachers who somehow imagine that the more big words they use, the smarter they are. I have to admit, I like language and the nuances that are possible with the right choice of words, but if the words aren’t familiar to the audience, the right choice of words is the wrong choice of words. It’s possible to be correct and wrong at the same time. And it’s easy. What isn’t easy is finding the just the right word to convey truth that can be digested. And that is why I am thankful every Sunday when the sermon is over. I’ve given it my best, studied, wrestled, and prayed over it, and offered it as best as I can. I am glad to be done. And tomorrow, it starts all over again. Love—hate; that would pretty well describe my life. But tonight, I am content and thankful that once more, for now, it’s over.