Why I am writing this:

I believe that a good sermon can be (and in truth OUGHT to be) an encounter with the living Christ.

That may seem like a tall order to some, but nevertheless I believe it is true. I have experienced it. Sermons have the power to draw people closer to Jesus, and conversely (sadly), they also have the power to push people further away. To my fellow preachers I will say that again: your words can either draw people closer to Christ, or they can push them away. If that seems like a huge responsibility, it’s because it is.

The preacher’s job isn’t always easy; sometimes it is exceptionally difficult. But we often make the task far more difficult than it needs to be. The nineteenth-century Anglican priest (and my hero) John Keble once gave a friend a bit of sage advice after reading one of his sermons: “Don’t be original.” There is a strong temptation as a preacher to try and come up with a novel interpretation of a biblical passage or to do something different or attention-getting in a sermon. Well according to Keble, the only thing that should be getting attention during the sermon is the age-old gospel story, certainly NOT the preacher. I am inclined to agree with him. We make preaching harder than it needs to be by trying to entertain people or by trying to be original in one way or another. But what if that isn’t what people need or want? What if our calling, as preachers, is really to feed people who are hungry for timeless spiritual truths?

It’s true that preaching is an art, but I don’t think it is an entirely subjective one. The quality or value of some sermons may be a matter of taste, and there is plenty of room for variations of style, but some sermons can be objectively bad as well. Preaching then, is an artform akin to cooking: there are time-tested techniques and principles that need to be learned, there is skill that comes with practice, and finally there is the inspiration and interpretation of the individual artist. The last may allow for great variation in how things are prepared and presented, and tastes can vary widely as to who prefers one thing or another, but as anyone who has ever had food-poisoning can testify: bad meals can be an objective reality and not just a matter of taste. So can bad sermons. But good sermons are real too, and like a good meal they can feed us and bring us joy at the same time.

A sermon is a unique thing. It is not a lecture. It is not a bible study. It is not a motivational speech or a stand-up comedy routine. It is a moment when a congregation’s attention is focused on God working and speaking in their midst. The preacher is tasked with helping people to realize that the God of scripture is the God of their everyday lives as well. It is a sacred, almost sacramental thing. It needs more attention than it often gets.

I am creating this website and writing this blog because the Church needs better sermons and better preachers. Some of what I offer here will naturally reflect my own personal tastes and opinions; some things will be more objective in nature. You, the reader, will likely have to do some sorting out as to which is which. I don’t intend to write in an overly academic and professional manner, because I think this subject is too important for me to spend much time “putting on airs.” Most folks would see through that anyways. Some of what I share you will likely agree with, and some you won’t. I am writing this from the perspective of an Episcopal priest working in a very sacramental Anglican tradition, but still I think most of what I have to say will pertain to preachers of most denominations. The opinions that I share here are my own, but I make no pretense that they are unique to me or, for that matter, that any of this is original or innovative. Quite the opposite. My tastes have always ran toward the traditional and time-tested. I have no desire to be original.

I am writing this as a parish priest who is subject to all of the stresses and burdens that come with running a modest-sized church. I have written plenty of “Saturday night specials” when I have been simply unable (for one reason or another) to find the proper time to give my weekly sermon the attention it deserved. I know that I have given bad sermons when things just didn’t come out the way that I had hoped they would. I am a great believer in God’s grace, and I trust in that grace to cover those sermons that just don’t hit the mark. I believe that we preachers are forgiven by God for our sincere and well-meaning mistakes in the pulpit. But it is because I believe in this grace and forgiveness, that I strive to be the best preacher, the best teller of God’s story, that I can be. I want others to know God’s grace and forgiveness too.

I am a firm believer that the Gates of Hell will not prevail against Christ’s Church and I believe that salvation ultimately comes through God’s actions in history and not our own. But I also think that the work of the preacher matters. God has called us into this sacred role, and though his grace may cover us when we fail, we can always strive to do better. That is what all of this is about: I want to be a better preacher and I want to encourage my brothers and sisters in ministry to be better preachers as well. I want to be someone who recognizes the sacred place of the pulpit in the life of the church and the sacred role of the individual who is called to stand in that place.

That is why I am writing “The Pulpiteer,” and if you share this calling, then I invite you to join me.