Does our preaching really speak to the real-life struggles of those to whom we preach?
by Stephen G. Marsh
Old Testament Reading: Isaiah 50:4-9a
For Sunday, April 17, 2011: Year A – Passion Sunday
Aside from a few breaks here and there – for which I have been exceedingly grateful – I have attended church fairly regularly for the past fifty years. In that time, I have heard a lot of sermons. Some of them have even been mine.
A Plethora of Voices
I have heard sermons preached by Lutheran preachers, Catholic preachers, Methodist preachers, Presbyterian preachers, Pentecostal preachers, Baptist preachers, Episcopal preachers (including African Methodist Episcopal preachers), non-denominational preachers, Seventh Day Adventist preachers, Jewish preachers, black preachers, white preachers, male preachers, female preachers, gay preachers, lesbian preachers, excellent preachers, good preachers, fair preachers, and horrible preachers.
I have heard sermons preached by people who had been trained in seminary and had attained multiple advanced degrees. I have also heard sermons preached by people who were unlettered and untrained by any seminary, who could preach the socks off of many of those who had attained multiple advanced degrees!
I have heard sermons that have made me glad. I have heard sermons that have made me sad. I have even heard sermons that have made me mad.
By and large, the sermons that have meant the most to me – no matter who was preaching them – have been those sermons which have spoken to my real life situation. Those sermons that spoke to the agonies, pains, confusions and sorrows that were a part of my everyday life. Those sermons that sung the Word of God in a key that spoke to the dissonance in my life.
The Preacher’s Dilemma
Those were usually the sermons that came out of the agonies, pains, confusions and sorrows that were part of the preacher’s life. Not the sermons that were primarily intent on conveying the correct parsing of the Greek or the Hebrew, or bringing forth impressive systematic concepts that really didn’t mean a hill of beans to my life, or spending so much time in the history that they never got to the present. The sermons that kept me awake; the sermons that brought tears to my eyes; the sermons that not only soothed my soul, but made me run out and tell someone about them so they could soothe someone else’s soul too, were the sermons that came out of the preacher’s own attempt to speak to the weariness, struggle, pain and grief in their own life. That is something that goes against the persona that preachers are encouraged and challenged to keep up by practically every segment of society – including our seminary training, many of our traditions and traditional colleagues, and the tapes that constantly run in our heads.
Preaching with A Well-Taught Tongue
The Master, God, has given me a well-taught tongue,
so I know how to encourage tired people.
(God) wakes me up in the morning, wakes me up, opens my ears,
to listen as one ready to (be taught).
Isaiah 50:4 (The Message)
Jesus knew this scripture passage well, as he did all the others. He wrestled many a morning, noon and night with what God sought to teach him through his own struggles. As he taught and preached out of that wrestling and those struggles, he encouraged many tired and weary people. All the way to the cross.
The Hardest Question
What does it mean to preach and teach with a “well-taught tongue?”
The Rev. Stephen G. Marsh is a grateful child of God who was born, raised and schooled in the windy city of Chicago. He was baptized in 1961, and between then and now has been called to serve God’s people in many capacities, from acolyte to bishop. Stephen pastored three urban Lutheran congregations in a span of twenty years, then served in metro Detroit as a bishop’s assistant for five years, and as bishop for one year. He has been a featured writer for The Lutheran magazine, as well as a contributor to numerous resources for urban congregations. Last but not least, he is a life-long and long-suffering Cubs fan!
