It is good to offer the sermon we are capable of crafting—loaves and fishes style—within the limits of our skills, available time, competing demands, and lack of feedback. We can trust God to multiply our efforts so that listeners receive the nourishment they need.
Your call is to offer the sermon you are able to offer. And forgive yourself for not meeting your expectations.
A Nobel-winning physicist told a student that the secret to his genius was keeping a list of his twelve favorite problems top of mind as he carried on about his days. As he encountered new ideas, people, or tools, he applied them to his problems, and occasionally, an unanticipated connection solved a problem. Voila. Genius! I think preachers could benefit from a similar practice, and I share how inside.
We may not be students at the moment, but we still face deadlines, major projects, and of course, preaching happens at a certain time every week
What I’ve learned since I was an undergrad is that study halls don’t have to be inside a library, and they become a lot more meaningful when we design them to be not only productive, but sacred.
If you've only ever started your sermon prep with gritted teeth, we have an invitation for you. It's time to try a new way: begin with play.
How? We'll get to that.
But first, let's convince your logical left brain why letting your right brain have a turn at the wheel might get you to your destination more effectively.
Consider how we feed people with the Word week in and week out:
When we're only using the Word as a necessary tool for ministry, yes, we get fed on the side. But we don't eat the main course. When we don't sit at the banquet table and feast daily ourselves, we slowly starve ourselves.
We know we're starving when:
