I Loved the Story about the Dog

May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. – Psalm 19:14 (NIV) 

In the receiving line after service, a visitor stopped and said, “Thank you, I always appreciate when preachers share stories from their own life.” I froze.  

I froze, dear reader, because up until that moment I was quite sure my sermon contained no personal narrative whatsoever. I scanned my memory for something like a personal story. Nope, nothing. I scanned this visitor’s face for any trace of sarcasm. Nope, they were being sincere. 

I muttered something about being glad they joined us and, as this visitor strolled out of church, I was left with the unavoidable conclusion that for this one person my sermon did indeed include a personal story. 

The more that I preach, the less I understand the craft of preaching. Sermons I’m excited about land flat. Sermons I dread delivering light up the room. Sermons grow mysterious stories between my mouth and the church’s ears. I’m quite convinced that, whatever else the Holy Spirit is up to, She is definitely messing with us preachers. 

That’s why I begin every sermon with this prayer from Psalm 19. Because ultimately the task of preaching is beyond my power. I’m supposed to make real the good news and call people to follow Jesus? I don’t mean to burst anyone’s bubble, but I am every bit as flummoxed by the meaning of the Bible as anyone. I am every bit as hungry for the good news as anyone. 

I get up and preach, not because I have all the answers, but because I’m looking for them. 

Prayer
Holy Spirit, thank you for completing my sermons with sighs too deep for words.

About the Author
Rev. John Edgerton is Senior Minister and CEO of Old South Church in Boston. He is the 21st Senior minister in the congregation’s over 350 year history.