On Sunday, as I stood at the back door of the church greeting parishioners, I was struck by the warmth and thoughtfulness of ’the people I serve, the members of St. Paul’s Church here in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. They are generous folks, often with a kind word about the sermon. One of our older, very perceptive women charmed me by recalling the first sermon illustration she heard me use — about Christopher Robin. She remarked on how my preaching is shaped by being a wife and mother (we agreed, more than I realize) and she shared that parts of my latest sermon didn’t quite gel (I agreed). It’s a profound privilege to preach regularly to such attentive listeners. Even more, it’s a joy knowing they reflect on what they hear and trust me enough to share their insights in response. This conversation led me to reflect on the nature of preaching.
“Do Jesus to the people.” My systematics professor Gerhard Forde would often remind us that when we preach, we are not merely to tell people about Jesus but to do Jesus to the people. Our task in proclaiming the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus is to proclaim words that do what they say: bring forth salvation, forgiveness, and God’s new creation. While we may use teaching, humor, rhetoric, and literary allusion, our ultimate goal must remain clear: to do Jesus to the people.
Preaching is an event within relationship. I remember my mother saying how much better our pastor seemed to preach after he had visited us in our home. Her point was not that our pastor’s message or delivery had changed but that we heard him differently because our relationship with him was growing.
I find the same in my congregation. As my relationship with the people I shepherd grows, I become more responsive to their needs as I prepare to . Even more, the trust between preacher and congregation opens our hearts to the Holy Spirit, who speaks far more eloquently than any earthly preacher.
A sermon is more than a speech — it is a spoken word within the relationship between preacher and hearer, infused by the Holy Spirit. It draws us into God’s Word of scripture and God’s Word incarnate, who is Christ. A sermon may be written into a carefully crafted manuscript, typed into an outline, jotted on a sticky note, or just held in mind. These forms all have their benefits and their drawbacks as they balance formality, precision, and elegance with responsiveness, connectivity, and openness to the present movement of the Holy Spirit. But at its heart, all preaching is a three-way communication between the preacher, the hearer, and God, who is present with us through scripture and the presence of the Holy Spirit.
A sermon creates space for the Holy Spirit to bring faith. I have noticed how eager congregations are to laugh, even at the softest preacher joke. Laughter brings a shared exhale, a release of the drama that builds through the liturgy of the Word. But laughter is not the only way. A story, a fact about the natural world, a glimpse into art or literature or the preacher’s hobby can disarm people, allowing them to breathe.
After this exhalation, a hush sometimes settles over the congregation. This is a holy moment. We dare not interrupt it, but speak lower and slower as the Holy Spirit moves among us, coming uniquely to each . Faith itself is a gift from the Spirit, poured out upon the congregation and the preacher alike, preparing them to receive Christ in the Eucharist.
Sometimes we preach at the very edge of our capacity. St. Paul reminds the Corinthians that he did not come with lofty speech or wisdom. Rather in weakness, fear, and much trembling, he proclaimed Jesus Christ and him crucified. His proclamation relied not on earthly wisdom but on the demonstration of the Holy Spirit and the Spirit’s power (1 Cor. 2:1-4). Paul may protest too much; his letters are highly sophisticated, both theologically and rhetorically. However, his point stands. The Gospel’s power is not in our words but in God’s Logos, which fills our often-inadequate words. Paul reminds us, “The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Cor. 1:18).
We are sometimes called to preach at the edge of our capacity. We speak haltingly in the face of the pain and sorrow of our congregation, or our ideas come out more like abstract art than fine exposition as we deal with Scriptures and spiritual truths that are beyond our understanding. I think of Paul’s attempt to describe the transformative reality of new creation breaking into the present through Jesus’ resurrection and the work of the Spirit. He finally stutters to a halt, exclaiming, “New things!” (2 Cor. 5:17).
Preaching is a holy calling that transforms the preacher as much as the congregation. It is a duty and a delight, a rhythm of submitting to God through prayer, study, and care for those we shepherd. It calls forth our passion for God, creativity, intellect, and love for others — while God’s grace adds even more: the power of God poured out through the Holy Spirit.
May we faithfully proclaim Christ crucified and do Jesus to the people, speaking words that do what they say. May we cultivate relationships and seek times of renewal, trusting that God is doing more than we can ask for or imagine. Let us pray for one another and cheer each other on in this wonderful, challenging calling.
