Speaking for God - Part 2

As the fall semester of my second year at Golden Gate unfolded, I waited anxiously for my turn to preach in our Introduction to Preaching class. After Old Yeller’s performance, things settled down somewhat, although the most mild-mannered student in the group did trot out a rather colorful sermon on hell. Apart from that, it was mostly recycled Christmas sermons.

But what should I preach on? That question haunted me as the weeks dragged by. Finally, I decided that the best approach was to tackle a spiritual issue I myself needed to work on, so that the message would benefit me, if no one else. Of course, this didn’t narrow the list of possible topics much, but I ultimately settled on a passage from the book of James that emphasized the importance of controlling one’s tongue. This may come as a shock, but I have been known to speak with a hint of sarcasm and negativity, so I felt motivated to dig into some biblical advice on the subject.

While reading James during my sermon preparation, I noted that he compared the tongue to a rudder that directs the whole course of one’s life, and to a tiny fire that eventually destroys a great forest. These were not reassuring analogies—especially the forest fire part—but they were all too easily understood. So I didn’t have much trouble whipping up a message on Speaking With Grace (subtitle: How to Keep Your Rudder Pointed Away From the Reefs and Put Out the Little Fire Before It Torches All Your Trees). In fact, my main concern in the days leading up to the sermon’s delivery was that I had over-prepared and would exceed my 15 minute time allotment.

I’m not sure what happened when I actually stepped behind the pulpit. The ensuing 7 minutes exists only as a hazy blur in my mind. I vaguely recall looking out over the bored faces of my classmates, but the next thing I remember is being back in my seat looking at my watch in amazement that so little time had elapsed. A friend later revealed that once I got started, the words poured out in a fast, monotone stream that was broken only by my occasional need to breathe.

Once our professor was able to convince himself that I really was done, and he started the post-sermon feedback session by observing, “Well, you’re quite tall. That height gives you a nice presence behind the pulpit.” Next, a student piped up and said, “Yes, and you never said ‘um’ or groped for words.”

The comments usually started off on this kind of positive note, but those two chestnuts seemed to exhaust the praiseworthy aspects of my performance. At the end of the day, the class was unanimous in its opinion that a happy medium existed between the passion of “The Yeller” and my own catatonic delivery. Clearly, there was some work to be done.