Good words without deeds
are rushes and reeds.
Thomas Fuller
Life is Act,
and not to Do
is Death.
Lewis Morris
Just as the fetching introduction pulls people into the sermon, the effective conclusion drives home the point and propels into the world people with an agenda.
A Rob Suggs cartoon in Leadership pictures a hapless pastor in front of a chart showing precipitously declining attendance. His companion suggests, “I’m no expert, Joe, but perhaps you shouldn’t close each sermon with ‘But then again, what do I know?'” The inappropriate ending can ruin even a great beginning.
But most preachers won’t destroy a sermon with a foolish conclusion. The greater danger is losing an opportunity by not tapping a sermon’s potential, by forfeiting the final push that makes a good sermon great and changes lives.
David Mains has a passion to change people’s behavior. With dogged determination he returns to one overriding concern: Have I given people a way to act on their conviction? Some concrete way to put conviction to work? If not, he believes, he has not concluded properly. The sermon is incomplete.
Mains, many years a pastor at Chicago’s Circle Church, now preaches on “The Chapel of the Air,” a daily radio program originating in Carol Stream, Illinois. With brief minutes to communicate to an unseen audience, Mains now concentrates all the more on providing appropriate bridges from conviction to action. He shares his methods in this chapter.
I listen to a lot of other preachers — carefully, too. It’s more than professional curiosity; I want to learn from both their strengths and their weaknesses.
I can usually determine the subject of the sermons I listen to. But often I’m confused about what I’m supposed to do or to stop doing. That’s frustrating, especially since it’s a rare text that doesn’t call for an explicit response.
Sometimes I work with student preachers. Once they choose a text, I tell them to look for two things: the subject and the response being called for. I ask them to identify these two elements before they look for anything else in the passage. Why? Because the success of their preaching hinges on imparting not only the meaning but the imperative of a text.
When lay people tell me they heard a preacher and “Oh, he was good!” I often respond, “I’m pleased. Tell me, what was his subject?” Usually, with varying degrees of accuracy, they can answer.
“And what did he want you to do or to stop doing?” Now we’re on a desert journey without water. Most people can’t remember. Most likely, the preacher never stated the desired response.
The major component necessary for better preaching, I believe, is the imperative — the call for specific action arising from the sermon text.
Scribes or Preachers?
To what did the multitudes respond in Christ’s preaching? After the Sermon on the Mount, Scripture records: “And when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teachings, for he taught them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes” (Matt. 7:28-29). There is a grand difference between a scribe and a preacher.
Comments you hear in sermons infected with what I call “the scribes’ disease” include:
“Here’s what so-and-so writes about these verses.”
“A related passage that sheds light on this one is …”
“Those who want to dig deeper into God’s truth would do well to probe this passage further.”
Scribes tend to be fascinated with information. By contrast, preachers, like Christ, are more action oriented. For them, the word sermon means a thrust. “It’s a thrust from the sword of the Spirit,” writes Simon Blocker in The Secret of Pulpit Power. “And the preacher knows whether or not his thrust has been driven home.”
I’m convinced many people say they like certain preachers not because they’re helped to be different but because they found that speaker interesting, clever, able to project personality into his sermon. Their bottom line: He wasn’t boring and I enjoyed listening to him. But were preachers meant to be entertainers?
People may leave a scribe’s service pumped full of interesting new information. They can say how one verse relates to another or how the ethics of the Decalogue foreshadow the completion of the Beatitudes. But what a shame for them to leave church services unaware of what they are to do or to stop doing.
If someone wants to know how to play music, it does little good for me to talk about the lives of famous composers, or to compare in detail the various instruments in the orchestra, or review how violins are made. It may make me sound learned and wise, but this person needs to be told, “Lesson one is on how to hold your flute. Between now and when we meet next week, I want you to practice holding it like this.”
Most Christians I know don’t need more information or “deeper truths.” They haven’t processed a fraction of the ones they already know. Profundity is not the crying need but simplicity coupled with directness: “Here’s what my text is about and it’s calling for us to do this.”
I want my preaching to communicate specific responses to genuine needs felt by real people. And I find they respond favorably to such down-to-earth preaching anchored in their world. They don’t particularly want more ideas. They aren’t enamored with brilliant analysis or formal essays. I can’t even assume they have a great love for theology or a vast reservoir of biblical knowledge.
I always ask the question: “What practical suggestions can I give to help people respond to what is said?” That’s a watershed question. If I adequately address that question, my listeners will appreciate what they hear. And they’ll be helped by it.
Bridges to Behavior
To make sure I am communicating, I have tried various methods, like brainstorming my sermons on Wednesday nights with a random group of parishioners invited to my home, or holding a pastor’s class after Sunday worship to discuss the sermon. The people who have most shaped my sermons have not been ministers but parishioners gracious enough to not only listen but also critique what they heard.
In discussing my sermons with listeners, I’ve found it doesn’t take long before they agree that the subject is relevant and the response called for in the passage is legitimate. But they say they need help with the “how to’s.” That’s what the serious Christian comes to a sermon to hear.
“Don’t talk anymore about the subject,” they tell me. “I already agree with the biblical challenge to respond. Tell me how to pull it off! Can’t you use your time building a bridge for me to get into this coveted new land?”
We preachers must build practical bridges. We need to list the first steps necessary to respond to what Scripture requires, and then we have to walk people over those bridges, step by step, to get them to that point.
For example, when Billy Graham preaches about conversion — being born again — he challenges his hearers to follow Christ. That’s his desired response. Now how are they to do this? What’s his bridge?
“What I want you to do,” he tells them, “is to get up from where you are sitting and to walk down here to the front.” He knows trained counselors are ready to talk with these people and lead them to Christ. It’s a good bridge — “Here’s how to do what I’ve been telling you about.”
A number of other bridges lend themselves to evangelistic sermons. The traditional invitation is only one of many possibilities.
Some people find an immediate public response intimidating. They intend to respond — the Word has done its work — but making such a sudden decision and walking in front of all those people seems out of the question. For them I might devise bridges less threatening in a congregational setting, such as:
•Printing my phone number in the bulletin with specific hours I will be at the phone with the sole purpose of taking calls from those wanting to investigate the implications of becoming a Christian. Then I can point out the number and hours in my sermon.
•Providing cards on which they can write their phone number so I can call them. They may place the cards in the offering plate or give them to me at the door.
•Arranging a meeting after the service, sometimes over lunch, for any who want to continue working toward a decision.
•Making available inexpensive books they can either borrow or buy after the service. When they sign it out or pay for it, I then have a record of their interest or possible decision to use for follow-up. People will rarely seek out a bookstore to find a recommended book, but at the book table in the rear, they eagerly snatch up books on consignment from local bookstores.
•Challenging people to talk with a Christian of their choice about any decision they have made. Most know a mature believer whom they trust. I can offer to arrange such a meeting if they don’t know anybody. They may find talking to a lay person less intimidating than a pastor.
•Making available cassette tapes to those who have made decisions, again getting their names for follow-up. Cassettes can help new believers firm their decisions. Although neither books nor cassettes provide all a new believer needs, telling people to take this step is a safe bridge to the action I ultimately desire: growth through involvement with other Christians.
Each of these alternatives builds a bridge to action. People can walk away from a service knowing something concrete to do if they have made a decision. They have their first steps outlined for them.
The use of bridges, however, is not limited to evangelistic sermons. Every sermon can benefit from suggested steps to action. Since the type of bridge depends on the response intended by the text, there are countless possibilities. When trying to determine what bridge to use for a particular sermon, the questions to ask are: What response does the text demand? and How can I best move the people toward that response?
When preaching on prayer, for example, I wanted people to learn to pray thankfully. I might have left it at that: “When you pray, be thankful.” But that would have left most of them at a loss: “Thankful for what? And how do I pray thankfully?”
So I provided a bridge. I asked them to take a few minutes later that day to write out ten things they were thankful for. The next day they were to write out ten more, not repeating any from the first day, and on the third day ten more, until the week was up and they had a list of seventy blessings. I asked them to bring the list the next week, when we would talk about it some more. By the next Sunday, they were ready to hear more because they had acted on the first sermon.
For a sermon on addiction to pornographic materials, I asked the congregation if during the next week they were willing to throw away questionable mail before opening it, to destroy that hidden stash of unseemly materials, to avoid particular bookracks and magazines and theater marquees. Since pornography can be an addiction, I asked them to consider one more step they felt they could take to break its hold. The bridge took them from knowing what is bad to determining what to do in response.
For a recent series of broadcast sermons, I provided a simple graph for people to chart their day-to-day battle with a bad habit. People could choose the behavior they wanted to plot, and one woman wrote me of her experience fighting immorality. Although she was a Christian, she and her boyfriend were going to bed together regularly. It bothered her conscience, but she seemed unable to break the habit.
It was that problem she chose to plot on her graph. After one date that ended, inevitably, in bed, the next day with tears she marked her failure on the graph. She went several days without a problem and her graph started looking good. But then on another date she fell again. The simple task of having to graph another failure got to her. That’s not how she wanted her graph to appear!
She made up her mind that this couldn’t continue, so she talked with her boyfriend. He didn’t necessarily agree, but he was willing to respect her decision. Her letter said it had been a number of weeks and she had retained a perfect record since that time. She knew all along she shouldn’t be immoral. What she needed was a bridge to cross the deep divide between her knowledge and her desired actions.
A sermon by John Huffman at the Congress on Biblical Exposition stands out for me because he told me what to do and also provided me a bridge. His bridge was simple: Get into an accountability group. He told how he had done it and what it meant to him and his preaching. He shared his weakness and his need for counsel. I came away from his sermon with an idea of what he wanted me to do and how to do it.
Bridges take many forms. I watched an Episcopal priest finish a fine Good Friday sermon about the Cross by displaying two crucifixes and suggesting that all of us get one ourselves to help us remember the richness of propitiation and redemption — those big theological words that mean so little apart from the Cross. Even though I probably won’t buy a crucifix, simply by viewing one again, I am moved beyond theological language to worship our Lord, whose agony for us a crucifix strongly portrays.
Supply a short list of Scriptures to be memorized; print a card with the sermon theme for people to carry in their wallets; suggest they evaluate a certain television show for its secular or Christian message; put a question in the bulletin for people to discuss over Sunday dinner — the bridges are varied. The common denominator is their specific practicality. They can be done immediately as a way to begin to put the sermon’s message to work.
I have found through years of lay-preacher dialogue that if I can’t tell my listeners what to do, if I can’t construct good bridges for people, they probably won’t figure out applications for themselves. I don’t worry about sounding “Mickey Mouse.” The specifics, the how to’s, the practicalities belong in great exposition every bit as much as in Sunday school handouts.
When approaching a text, I can preach best by, first, zeroing in on the text’s subject; second, extracting from the Scripture the response being called for; and third, from my Christian understanding, constructing a bridge that will help people get from where they are to where this text teaches they should be. I want to help them respond to the challenge of the passage.
According to a 1985 poll, 42 percent of the adults in America attend religious services in a typical week. If we can get those four in ten adults to leave our preaching services saying, “I know what God wants me to do, and I have been given a reasonable way to begin the process. I’m going to do it!” — if we can pull this off Sunday after Sunday — then our preaching will fulfill its purpose: God’s Word will equip his people to begin doing his will.
Copyright ©1986 Christianity Today
