After the death of comic genius Robin Williams, someone was reminiscing about the time he preceded Bob Hope on The Tonight Show With Johnny Carson.

For some reason, Bob Hope was late arriving at the studio that night. So, instead of Robin Williams following him, which had been the plan, Williams went on stage first and did his hilarious knock-em-dead routine.  People were beside themselves with laughter.

The great Bob Hope arrived and had to follow that.

Robin Williams said, “I don’t think he was angry, but he was not pleased.”

As Bob Hope walked out onto the stage and settled into the chair, Johnny Carson said, “Robin Williams. Isn’t he funny?”  Hope said, “Yeah. He’s wild. But you know, Johnny, it’s great to be back here with you.”

“Let’s talk about me.” I smile at that. Even the great Bob Hope could not handle this situation.

No clear-thinking person would voluntarily follow Robin Williams on the program.

Sometimes we preachers find ourselves scheduled to speak on a big program.  Woe to the one who has to follow the most popular preacher in the land.

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As one who has a great deal of respect for godly laymen and laywomen, I’m always glad when one rises in church to deliver a sermon or a testimony or a report. And since, as a retired pastor, I’m in a lot of churches throughout the year. So, I get to see a good bit of this. And sometimes….

Sometimes I want to applaud them. “Good job. Well done.” (In fact, I often say it to them following the service.)

But at other times, I want to shake them. “Pay attention to what you are doing! You can do better than this!”

I say this fully aware that we all had to start out somewhere, sometime, someway, and that no beginner came to the speaking craft full-grown. We crawl before we walk and do that before we run.

However–and this is what prompts this diatribe today–what gets my goat is when the lay speaker or preacher is mature in years and should know better and still makes glaring mistakes.

Here is my list of ten things the beginning (or rusty or occasional) speaker seems not to know, but needs to learn quickly in order to be effective.

1. How to begin your message.

First, how not to begin:

–“When they asked me to give my testimony this morning, my first thought was….”

–“I don’t know why they asked me to do this, but….”

–“When I told my wife the preacher had asked me to speak today, she said….”

Don’t do that.

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“Then an expert in the law stood up to test Him, saying, ‘Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’” (Luke 10:25)

Holly, a 7-year-old in a church I pastored, turned to her mother in the middle of my sermon and said, “Mother, why does Doctor Joe think we need this information?”

Every preacher should have such a child listening to every sermon and giving such feedback.

What boring preaching does–without exception–is answer questions which no one is asking.

It may do more things than this–dead oratory violates a thousand sound principles–but put it down in huge letters, pastor: the sermon which is sedating your congregation is seen as completely irrelevant to them.

Whether it is or not is another matter.

My job as the pastor may mean making my audience see that this subject is one they should be dealing with and asking questions about.

On an airline flight, passengers ignore the instructions of the attendant as she talks about the use of the seat cushion as flotation device or how to inflate the life vests. If however, at 30,000 feet the pilot announces the loss of an engine and the attendant begins to give instructions, she will have the clear and undivided attention of her audience.

One reason for the pastor previewing the sermon with his spouse and/or children is that invariably one among them can be counted on to ask, “What is your point?”  “What is this about?”  Or, as Holly put it, “Why do we need to know this?”

In Scripture, we get the impression that Jesus’ best preaching was done on the spur of the moment as a result of questions.

–“Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29) From this, we have the unforgettable story of the good Samaritan.

–“Why do you receive sinners and eat with them?” (Luke 15:1ff) This charge gave the Lord an audience for His parables of the lost sheep, lost coin, and lost boy (Prodigal Son).

–“Lord, will you now restore the kingdom to Israel? What will be the sign of your coming and of the end?” (Matthew 24:1ff.) As a result of these questions, we have lengthy explanations as to the coming destruction of Jerusalem and the Lord’s return.

–“Why do your disciples not fast?” (Matthew 9:14) This gave us the teachings of new-patches-on-old-garments and new-wine-in-old-wineskins.

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This has happened to me again and again. I’m sitting in some huge meeting with hundreds of the Lord’s people representing churches across our state or country. A large number of preachers are in the audience. The speaker is sounding forth on some subject of importance to us all.

Suddenly, the speaker comes out with a statement that gets a hearty “amen,” something that sounds profound and undergirds the point he is making. He goes on in the message and everyone in the room but one person stays with him. Me, I’m stuck at that statement. Where did he get that, I wonder. Is it true? How can we know?

If “Facebook,” that wonderful and exasperating social networking machine, has taught us anything, it’s to distrust percentages and question quotations.

A Facebook friend’s profile contained a quote from President Kennedy. I happen to know the quote and while I cannot prove JFK never uttered those words–how could we prove that someone never said a thing?–I know how the line got attached to the Kennedys. It’s a quotation from a George Bernard Shaw play.

Some see things as they are and ask ‘Why?’ I see things that never were and ask ‘Why not?’

In 1968, at the funeral of his brother Robert F. Kennedy, Senator Ted Kennedy spoke those words as applying to him. It’s a terrific depiction of vision. For most of us, I imagine it was our first time to hear the quote. The source was not given in the oration, which may have led some to believe Senator Kennedy made it up.

One thing we know, however, is President John F. Kennedy is not its source. Nor is any Kennedy. And yet, keep your eye out for that quotation. Half the time, its source will be listed as one of the Kennedys.

Accuracy is important for all of us, but particularly those of us called to preach the Truth to get people to Heaven.

Unfortunately, because we speak so often, our sermon machines devour a lot of fodder. It figures that sometimes we are going to get our stories wrong.

That’s why a statement from a preacher hit me so hard and drove me to do a little research.

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I said to a pastor friend, “I wonder if you’d allow me to offer a tiny word of criticism on last Sunday’s sermon.”  He sat up straight and beamed. “I’d welcome a criticism!”

This good man is even excited to have someone do this.  Wow.  (He said later that everyone compliments his preaching, but sometimes he’d appreciate a helpful suggestion.  I had two thoughts: Any right-thinking pastor would do that, but at the same time, we don’t want a constant barrage of suggestions or criticisms.  Just one or two along the way at helpful intervals would be quite sufficient, thanks.)

I said, “You jumped off into the deep end of the pool with us.  Within two minutes after you began the sermon we were in over our heads.  That makes it hard on a congregation to keep up and follow you.”

He kept listening.

“How much better to wade out in the shallow end at first. Let us adjust to the water temperature and see where you are going with this message.  Gradually take us into the deep.”

He welcomed the thought and proved once again what I already knew–what a terrific fellow he is.  One doesn’t abruptly offer criticism or suggestions without confidence that the recipient will welcome it.

Story One. 

The U.S. Attorney for the southern district of our state was addressing a weekly men’s luncheon at our church this week.  He began with this story…

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“Now when they heard the preaching of Peter and John, they were marveling and began to recognize them as having been with Jesus.”  (A free paraphrase of Acts 4:13)

Hey, pastor, next Sunday let’s hit one out of the park.

Let’s preach a sermon that will thrill your own soul, knock the dozing member out of his lethargy and onto his feet, and bless the hearts of your sweetest, finest people.  Let’s have a sermon that will stun your critics, surprise your mama, gladden the heart of God, and grab the undivided attention of the unsaved.

Let’s put an end to the common sermon.

You know what a common sermon is, I’m sure.

It’s uninspired in its conception, boring in its plan, and dull in its delivery.  In preparing it, you have to force yourself to stay awake.  When you preach it, the congregation takes a holiday. When it’s over, you wonder if you shouldn’t find some other line of work.

When common sermons follow common sermons like rail cars behind the locomotive, the preacher is probably in a rut.  And we all remember what a rut is–a grave with the ends knocked out.

In a “common sermon,” the outline is often uninspired and may look something like this: 1) The Power, 2) The Point, and 3) the Product.  Or, pehaps 1) The Application, 2) the Attraction, and 3) the Adoration. The introduction, the message, the conclusion.

Bo-ring.  But then, you knew that.

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There is a genuine, much-needed humility. And there is the fake kind.

We’ve all seen it and some of us have done it.

The pastor strides to the pulpit, opens the Bible, reads his text, announces his subject, then begins with an apology. “I have no right to speak to you on this subject.” “Many of you know more about this subject than I do.” “I’m not sure why the Lord laid this on my heart, but I’m going to give it a try.”

The well-meaning pastor intends it as demonstrating transparency, leveling with his people, admitting what they already know–that he’s human and fallible. A fellow struggler. One of them.  However….

Many in the congregation are thinking, “Well, if you don’t know, preacher, we sure don’t. Get it over with and let’s go home.”

I rise today, pastors, to say to you that this kind of false humility has no place in the Kingdom of God. It most certainly has no place in the pulpit where God expects His servant to be bold and His people expect their pastor to be faithful.

Such self-deprecation cuts the ground out from under everything the minister is about to share. It diminishes the authority with which God intends him to proclaim His Word. He ties his own hands and weakens his effectiveness before he even begins.

Now, there is another side to this, of course, when the pastor acts as though he were the Lord God Himself and gives the impression that his word is the only one  that counts.

This is pride; the first is fear.

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