#240 Sermon Writing Reflections

As a pastor, I write a new sermon nearly every week. With my working habits, the majority of my writing gets done on Friday. Some weeks my writing goes really well. I have a clear idea of what the Bible passage means and how I'd like to explain it and what illustrations I'd like to use to apply the passage to our lives today. But many weeks have at least a stretch where writing is difficult. I wrestle with finding the right words to describe who God is and what God has done and what that means for who we are and what we should do. Sometimes I need to walk a tight theological line to keep from falling into errors on either side. Sometimes finding a balance of different and relatable examples when describing our sinful tendencies or imperfect human perspectives requires a lot of careful thought so that I don't come across like I'm unfairly singling out a specific group or ignoring a significant problem. Writing can be a very tiring process for me. By the time I finish my sermon—thankfully almost always still on Friday—I'm often worn out and can be a little unsure if it all makes sense and holds together.

On Saturdays I come back to my sermon in order to go run through it a couple times. Week after week, almost without fail, something interesting happens. I find that I feel much better about my sermon after I've practiced it. Now I'm sure we could come up for some psychological explanations for this. After taking a break from my work and getting some sleep, I'm in a better mood and feel better about things in general. I know Sunday is coming quickly and don't want to do the work of a major rewrite, so I'm more accepting of what I've already got. There's probably something to thoughts like that. But I think there's also something more going on. Week in and week out I pray that God would help me understand His Word and communicate it well, that He would use me as He speaks to His people. I certainly wouldn't claim that my sermons are divinely inspired or that each and every message I give is phenomenal. But I do think God answers those prayers. When I come back to my sermons on Saturday, I think it's easier for me to see how God has guided my work and thinking to produce a sermon that's coherent and relevant in proclaiming His good news. Preaching is tough work, but I believe God has called me to do it, and others have affirmed that sense of calling over the years. So I believe that God will equip and use me to do this work that He's given me to do. It won't always be easy, and I'm certainly capable of making mistakes. But if I'm diligently seeking to follow God and responsibly putting in the work, I'm sure that He'll be with me to help me. And, for whatever God has called you to do, I think you can be sure of that, too.

Grace and peace,

BMH

#239 Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

A little while back Packers legend Aaron Rodgers landed in some hot water. Before the NFL season, Rodgers was asked if he had received a COVID-19 vaccine. Rodgers affirmed that he'd been immunized, which led everyone to assume that he had gotten a vaccine. But, as we came to find out, Rodgers had not gotten a vaccine; he'd tried some other preventative measure that did not meet the NFL's standards. Many were quick to rebuke Rodgers for lying. Rodgers later tried to defend himself by saying that he never said he was vaccinated.

While Rodgers' defense is factually correct, that really doesn't mean he wasn't lying. We often equate telling the truth with being factually accurate and lying with being factually inaccurate, and in the vast majority of cases, that's right. However, lying is a moral matter, not a factual matter. If I say something that is meant to mislead whomever I'm speaking to, then I'm lying, no matter how accurate my statement might be. For example, if someone asks me if I watched the Packers' last game against the Rams (I was not able to here in NW Iowa), and I say, "The Packers won 36-28" so that the other person believes I watched the game, then I am lying, even though my statement is correct. My intention was deceptive, which makes me a liar. Understanding lying this way helps us understand just how much of a problem lying is for all of us. It's so easy for us to twist or slant our words or keep back part of the story to mislead someone and then pat ourselves on the back for being accurate. I know I've done this, and I'm guessing you have, too.

And on the flip side, being wrong does not mean someone is lying. If I truly think it takes 2 hours to drive from my house to St. Paul, MN, and I tell someone else that, only for them to discover that it takes more like 4 hours, then it would not be right for them to call me I liar. I meant to tell the truth, but I had the wrong information. Now certainly there can be serious consequences to be wrong. And if I am willfully ignorant but still choose to spread (mis)information, I am morally responsible for my actions. However, that doesn't mean I'm lying.

So when it comes to lying, it's our intentions, not our factual accuracy, that ultimately make the moral difference. In order to avoid the mess of tangled words and half-truths and omitted information, it's best for us to follow Jesus' advice (given in the context of discussing oaths). Say "yes" when you mean yes and "no" when you mean no. Keep it simple, honest, and easy-to-follow. There's a lot less chance of getting in trouble down the road that way.

Grace and peace,

BMH