Buterflies

January 13, 2019

“You still get nervous preaching?” Bob was surprised; after all, I’ve been doing this for almost fifty years. People seem to have a hard time believing I get so nervous that I can’t eat before preaching. It’s true though; I get knots in my stomach Sunday mornings, preceded by a general  dread that I’m not ready, haven’t been clear enough, haven’t prayed enough, or don’t have what the people need to hear at this moment in time. Fifty years hasn’t dulled the edginess of preaching. It’s one of the reasons I knew it was time to retire. I was tired of constantly having to keep the mind going, thinking ahead, planning sermon series, continually worrying that instead of proclaiming the Good News, I’d only be hawking good advice, which is not what I was called to do. So yes, I still get nervous. 

When I taught preaching classes, I would tell my students, “It’s when the butterflies in your stomach disappear that you should start getting nervous.” It’s the price that must be paid in order to do the job right.

I’ve been doing this a long time, and at times I feel like the spring is wound a bit too tightly, and that it’s time to hang up the spurs, so to speak. Inevitably (at least so far), something happens to make me pause and ponder. I’ve been preaching in Dunkirk for a year and a half; it was supposed to be just a couple weeks in the summer to tide things over till the Superintendent could find a more permanent solution. She did just that—me. It’s been slow going, and just when I think it might be time to slow down and back off, God throws me a curve ball. Today it was in the form of six visitors, two who had visited last week and returned, and four who came for the first time and said they’ll be back. It’s like, “Lord, you’re pulling a fast one on me.” 

God is like that; full of surprises. Abraham was surprised when God actually gave him a son in his old age. The children of Israel were surprised to see the waters of the Red Sea splitting in two so they could escape Egypt. Jesse was surprised when his youngest son David was chosen to be king. And the devil was surprised when Jesus rose from the dead and thwarted his best laid plans for our destruction. Why should it surprise me when God sends people who are ready to hear the Good News? Well, it does. I can be pretty thick-headed sometimes, so I am surprised. But I am also very thankful. These new faces ministered to me this morning, unwittingly giving encouragement they didn’t even know I needed. So thank you, my new friends. And thank you, Jesus! Maybe the nervousness is paying off.