When I was in graduate school at Emory, a fellow student developed a questionnaire to measure his congregation’s racial attitudes. He passed out a survey and recorded the results. Then he preached a series of five sermons that in some way touched on the race issue.
After his sermon series, he surveyed their responses—they were three points more racist than before!
At times you wonder if preached words have any potency. At times, getting up to preach is like trying to put out a thousand-acre forest fire with a garden hose. What could I possibly say to a mother who just lost her newborn to SIDS, to the couple that can’t get pregnant, to the woman whose husband beats her regularly, to the chronically unemployed father of five?
Furthermore, how can one person standing alone and speaking from an ancient book possibly impact this word-saturated, image-driven society? It seems impossible.
Yet according to Scripture, this is our chief weapon: words. So over the years, I’ve given this paradox a great deal of thought. Here is what I’ve discovered.
Spirited Words
First, our words depend for their power on the Holy Spirit, and that’s cause for both comfort and alarm! We can never count on the Holy Spirit to move people as we expect.
I constantly live with the thought that some Sunday, the Holy Spirit will say, “Oh, by the way, Will, I’m working in Poland this week.” That’s one reason I keep stomach medicine in the Duke Chapel bathroom.
The Holy Spirit is unpredictable. Last summer I led a Bible study at a resort where my words had such a deadening effect that the summer help was dangerously close to coming in to drag the people out by their feet. I’d been there the year before leading a similar study. That time the air was electrified with the power of the Spirit. Stuff was happening. And when I ended, the room fell silent. Then applause broke out. Everyone felt the Spirit of God hover over the study.
The ways of the Holy Spirit may stump me, but that’s what makes preaching such an adventure.
I can think of many instances when after a sermon someone has walked up to me and said, “Thank you. This morning’s sermon on salvation was so moving.”
Salvation? I think. This morning’s sermon was not on salvation. It was on loving your neighbor! The Holy Spirit had twisted my words and applied them in a way I didn’t expect.
Words create worlds
Have you considered the power of words? Our worlds are built by words.
In Genesis 1 there is no world until God starts talking. His words create a whole new world.
So do ours. A few years ago, my denomination published a magazine that focused on social action. The editors interviewed leaders who fought for racial justice, asking how they became committed to this cause.
I was impressed by how many mentioned preaching. As a result of hearing a sermon, they were motivated to pursue social action as their life’s calling.
Perhaps that’s what the apostle Paul meant when he said, “Faith comes by hearing.” Christian faith is auditorially derived. Lives are changed through words—maybe that’s the only way we ever change.
These words are not my own
Recently a Duke student about to graduate knocked at my door.
“Dr. Willimon,” he began, “one of your sermons saved my life. I was considering suicide until I heard you preach one Sunday. I just wanted to thank you before I left school for good.”
“Wow ! That’s great,” I replied. “When was this?”
“I think it was last January, the week after classes started up again. The sermon was the one on the love of God that is higher and deeper and wider than anything.”
My mind was spinning; I couldn’t remember preaching such a message. Then it hit me.
“Ah, wait a minute,” I said. “Dr. Thomas Long preached that sermon, not me.”
“Oh, yeah,” the student replied, “the guy with the blondish hair. Well, you two look a lot alike.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t take your life, and I’m sure Dr. Long would be thrilled.”
I was a little miffed that I hadn’t preached the sermon, but I was once again impressed that our words are not mere words. They unloose the powerful and wildly unpredictable truths of the gospel, transforming lives in the here and now—and forever.
William H. Willimon is dean of the chapel at Duke University, Durham, North Carolina.
Copyright © 2000 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.
