I was called to ministry in June, 1974. Preached my first sermon two months later …
and I’ve been preaching ever since—an every Sunday preacher since February,
1981. That’s a lot of sermons. And I’ve preached in all kinds of places:
campgrounds, small churches, large churches, white churches, black churches,
college and seminary chapels, Jamaica, France, Russia, India, the Czech
Republic, Africa, Honduras. I’ve even
preached in Texas. I’ve preached with
translators. And I’ve preached to
English-speaking congregations that probably wished I had a translator. We’re talking thousands of sermons, after
which many listeners file by to shake my hand.
Some smile and nod. Others speak. And oh the things people say. Some offer the obligatory, “I enjoyed that”; “Good
word”; “Thanks for the sermon.” But some
say more interesting things. In fact,
this past Sunday I received the highest compliment I’ve ever received after a
sermon. But before I get to that, let,
me share some other things I’ve heard:
From some elderly ladies in Branson, Missouri: “Oh, you’re
going to be the next Billy Graham.” (I’m
pretty sure most every preacher boy hears that when they are just getting
started.)
From more than one person in Jamaica: “I walked five miles
to get here. Please preach a longer
sermon.” (No American ever said that to
me.)
From a highly literate man in Missouri: “Want to know how
many times you said ‘you know’ in your sermon?
I counted them.” (At least he was
moved by the content of the message.
Not!)
From a lady in Missouri: “It’s about time you said something
about the role of women in church.” (I
didn’t say anything the role of women in the church. How she heard that I’ll never know.)
From a man in Loseeny, Russia: “So, are you rich?” (He was obviously more interested in the
messenger than the message.)
From a lady in Arkansas: “That tie doesn’t really match. You ought to let your wife pick out your
clothes.”
From a man in Arkansas: “You were kind of brief today. I like it.
And just so you know, nobody ever complains about a bad short sermon.”
From somebody in most every church: “Can you have somebody turn
up the heat next Sunday? I nearly froze
to death today.”
From another lady in Arkansas: she didn’t speak to me after
the sermon but sent me a letter: “That was an appalling use of the Scripture.” And with the letter she sent a book on how to
interpret the Bible. It’s a good book.
Oh the things people say!
And of course, I’ve also heard comments from people who were engaged,
helped, moved, and/or challenged by the sermon.
I heard from one of those this past Sunday: best compliment I’ve ever had
after a sermon. It came from a man about
my age. He came through the line, took
my hand, leaned in toward my ear, and whispered so no one else would hear: “I’ve
never had my butt so thoroughly chewed and enjoyed it so much. Thanks.
I needed that.”
Score!
There are two things I want to saturate every sermon I
preach: grace and truth. And this man’s
response to my sermon told me I hit that mark on Sunday: “I never had my butt
so thoroughly chewed” (truth); “and enjoyed it so much” (grace). The truth didn’t beat down, it lifted up. The truth didn’t maim, it healed. The truth didn’t destroy, it gave life. The truth didn’t shackle, it set the listener
free. Truth does this when it’s seasoned
with grace.
Oh the things people say!
It can be funny, off the wall, disconnected, encouraging, and even a
little painful now and then. I can’t
control the things people say and don’t want to. I can only pray and work to the end that the
things I say will be, like Jesus,
full of grace and truth.