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PREACHING SKILLSLetting the Listeners Make the DiscoveriesScripture can speak for itselfEarl Palmer
Whenever I stand before a congregation, I have to suppress my natural instinct to preach. We preachers have a tendency—some innate drive—to offer answers to our listeners before they've even heard the questions. We want to help, but sometimes we forget the process required.
No wonder preaching has gotten a bad name. "Don't preach at me!" a teenager shouts at his parents. "I don't need your sermon," a wife says to her husband. And we know exactly what they mean. People resist answers others have found for them. Now-I'm-going-to-fix-you sermons make my congregation's eyes glaze over. When I pontificate, they cannot contemplate.
J. B. Phillips, while translating the New Testament, discovered its truth to be pulsing with life and power. He felt like an electrician, he said,' working with wiring while the power was still on. This was no dull routine, grappling with the dynamic, living Word! Phillips felt the awesomeness—both the dread and the excitement—of the electric charge of God's truth.
Keep the Bible first
Once while traveling, my daughter and I heard a sermon on the radio. The preacher read the text magnificently; it was from Romans 8 and was about hope. The preacher then gave a series of moving, personal anecdotes about hope.
After the sermon my daughter asked, "How did you like the sermon?"
"It was moving," I said. "In fact, one of the illustrations brought me to tears."
Then my daughter said something I'll never forget: "But Dad, I didn't like the sermon because the pastor basically said, 'Since I have hope, you should have hope.' And that's not gospel."
I was so proud of my daughter. She saw that the Good News was something more. I'm glad this pastor has hope. But I need to see how that text in Romans gives me a profound basis for hope whether he has hope or not! In a way then, the pastor cheated his listeners. We were denied the opportunity to see the text and discover from it the basis of hope for ourselves.
People, of course, desire a human touch—love and compassion and hope. And they need personal stories to show the gospel in action in daily life. The only trouble is, personal stories alone don't connect me to the real source of hope.
Personal witness and stories should be seen like all illustrations—as windows to illuminate, to help people look in on a textual treasure waiting to be discovered. If I make my discoveries through such stories, I may become unhealthily dependent on the storyteller, usually the pastor, for my spiritual growth. But if I can discover hope for myself from Romans 8, I discover it alongside the pastor. Although it takes more time, this discovery is more powerful and long lasting.
Yes, we must be people-fluent, understanding them and communicating to their needs. But first we must be textually fluent. That means, of course, I must invest time and hard work to know the text. In fact, I have to know a lot just to raise the right questions! Good teaching comes when I understand the content and deeply know the text before I search for its implications. Then people can be connected first and foremost with the text.
Let the urgency come through
Letting the Scripture speak for itself doesn't mean I'm dispassionate about my presentation. If I want my learners to discover the text, I need to whet their appetite for spiritual things. To do that effectively I need to convey the urgency of the text.
The best calculus teachers believe a kid can't really make it in the world without knowing calculus. Such teachers demand more and challenge more. They also teach more. I want to capture a sense of urgency that says, "This is not just an interesting option. It is essential that you know." Learners catch more than content from such teaching; they catch an enthusiasm for the truth.
This means, among other things, I must be urgent about my own soul. I must be a growing, maturing Christian myself with an appetite for spiritual things. Only then can I communicate with urgency the need for my congregation to grow and mature as well.
Don't get to the point
Although I'm urgent about what I teach, I'm not urgent about getting to the main point of the text. I've learned not to reveal what I know too soon. I've learned not to force the discovery but to let the natural drift of the text unfold. I've got to give people time to wonder, time to ponder, time for questions to emerge, and time for answers to take shape in the text.
When I preach by raising questions that spring naturally from the text itself, I enable the listener to discover meaning for themselves. It's a little like Agatha Christie holding the solution to the mystery until the time is just right.
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