Smartphones, Smart Pastor, Smart Church
WorkingPreaching.org recently published a column of mine at their site. It’s a great place for sermon prep, lectionary commentary, and church and culture discussion. Do check it out. My specific post is here, and below.
Next time you see a group of young adults dining together at a restaurant, take a closer look at the table. Nine times out of ten, you'll be able to glimpse at least one cell phone resting on the tablecloth or, just as likely, in someone's hand. In many cases, multiple phones will dot the table as if they were part of the place settings. One might deduce that young people today have a medical condition causing indigestion unless they eat with their phones near at hand. Come to think of it, that's dangerously close to the truth.
The dining scene hints at the fact that many youth and young adults today have a relationship with technology and social media that is core to their formation. With this access to the Internet and, through it, the world, their worldview is significantly different than that of previous generations.
In his article Preaching 2.0, David Lose explores how new approaches to preaching might address our changing cultural norms. But why stop at preaching?
Here's a list of five common phenomena among young people, and how the church might incorporate them into its worship, preaching, and communal life:
1. When young people have a question they ask it -- as a Facebook status, on Twitter, on a message board, perhaps in a text message. But, corporate worship is a time in which it is very difficult to ask questions of the people sitting beside you, let alone the leaders up front. What if worship leaders, after each scripture reading, left a time of silence followed by an opportunity for worshippers to share their questions about the passage? What if preachers invited spoken questions (and even text-messaged ones) and incorporated the questions into their sermons?
2. Social media culture invites young people to respond in some way to pretty much everything. For instance, we can "like" Facebook statuses, respond to text messages with a simple "K," and have the ability to comment on blog posts and news articles until our hearts' content. We can re-tweet a joke, share a music video, and quote a funny happening on Facebook (all while sitting in class). But then in worship, most churches shut down the sharing. The prevailing norm is to keep cell phones out of sight. What if we opened our worship culture and invited worshippers to respond with social media as well as corporate liturgy? What if, throughout our worship space, we placed art supplies that worshippers could use to respond to the Spirit's movement?
3. Young people, through the Internet, are accustomed to easily accessing huge swaths of information. Friends of mine, mid-conversation, will pull out a phone to research a curiosity. In later encounters we'll often find that each of us read further using Wikipedia and Google. But, in most worship services, it would be unusual to do something as natural as pulling up an e-Book Bible, or Googling a commentary on the scripture lesson. What if bulletins included web links and codes scanable with a smartphone (QR codes) to access more information? What if congregations posted videos of sermons on YouTube with links to further resources?
4. Young people, like us all, yearn for community. In fact, a recent Pew Study found that people who use social networking sites actually have larger social networks and more close friends than those who don't. Many of us in the church assume that church attendance and worship is a social event -- and it is -- but then we require people to sit in long narrow pews ideal for looking at the backs of people's heads. Sitting like this does not make for easy community-building or social interaction. What if we replaced our church pews with movable chairs arranged in a way that encouraged a more communal culture of worship? What if churches became a hub for intergenerational social media education, online prayer practices, and community-building?
5. Finally, young adults have a different way of assigning authority. Whereas in another age, pastors could assume a certain respect by virtue of their connection with the church, nowadays authority is more situational. Through relationships, conversation, and careful listening pastors can share wise and helpful words but, then again, sometimes a quick Facebook post will do more than an entire sermon. What if congregations made efforts to make space in their church for dialogue among the wise voices of their community? What if pastors viewed social media as a medium for pastoral care and prophetic words?
The next time you view a cell phone in front of a young diner, hopefully you'll think about its implications for the church's ministry. There are many ways to answer the questions about young adult culture today, but one thing is certain: we must start asking the right questions. What would change if we did?
Teachy preaching and its discontents
Originally posted at Gathering Voices: Faith Conversations from TheThoughtfulChristian.com
A few months into my current call as a solo pastor, I was sitting in a committee meeting when a member described what she told a friend about our church. She’d told her friend about our great youth sunday school and the friendly atmosphere of our congregation and then she said, “and Adam is such a great teacher.” For a fleeting moment I beamed with pride. Then I realized in the short time I had pastored our congregation, I had not taught even one class. Unfounded praise indeed. So, I wondered, what could this parishioner mean when she described me as a good teacher to her friend?
It took me a while to figure it out, but finally I think I put a finger on it. My preaching (on the whole, at least) is very teachy. And this isn’t necessarily a good thing.
My default exegetical approach seems to be to look at a text from the Bible and read it according to a Reformed understanding of theology. I then can jump pretty easily to a few points about what God is doing in the text, and then, I connect those points to what God is doing in the context of my congregation. This makes for okay sermons, I guess. Nothing wrong with them. One could do worse. But I end up getting lots of teachy sermons.
I’ll say boring things like, “In this text, God is doing ______.” And “In this text Paul’s context was ______, and he wanted to get across to his audience that _________.” I explain. Or, I’ll use my go-to and pretty blase´ default homiletical structure: “on first reading this text seems to say ______, but we’re called to read deeper. Oh look! On a deeper reading we find a new complexity and then we see ________.” Teachy preaching gets at theological points pretty well. It may even be particularly appropriate these days when many people in our congregations do not know the Bible well and need a lot of contextual setup. It may also be appropriate considering our time’s declining denominational theological identity. But!
But, of this I’m also quite aware: my more teachy sermons tend to happen when I have a shorter time than I’d like to prepare for preaching — on a week of a funeral, or when I have several evening meetings, or presbytery commitments, or when I am actually spending time preparing to teach a class. On the whole, the less time I have to prepare for a sermon the more teachy it becomes.
Ok, confession over. Now I’ll take a stab at what my — and maybe your — preaching can do to get out of the rut.
Types of non-teachy sermons to wake us up:
- Inspirational. It’s easy to crack on televangelists or overly-intense preachers, but I’ll give them one thing: they sure do try to inspire. Teachy sermons don’t tend to instill great inspiration or hope. Inspirational sermons get folks fired-up. Us Presbyterians, at least, could use a little extra pep every once in a while.
- Testimonial. It’s a scary word in many straight-laced churches, but I’m probably not the only preacher who could use a little more personal narrative and conviction in my sermons.
- Daring. Take a chance. Give a fully narrative sermon, preach from the first-person point of view of a Biblical character, or push the envelope with a difficult stand. (A friend of mine near a military base recently said he preached an anti-war sermon thathe was so nervous about he was physically sick on Saturday night. The next morning it was very well-received, especially by those serving in the military.)
- Add your growing-edge here, whatever it might be — preach from a manuscript or without one, do text study with a pastor of very different theological background than you, talk over the text with the youth group and at a nursing home, go back to the original language for a change. Shake things up.
So what do you think? Am I overly self-analytical or on to something? Are teachy sermons your pet peeve or the good word your congregation needs to hear?
image by Terri Heisele
Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com Check out all of our sermon collections here!
A few samplings:
- The Collected Sermons of William H. Willimon
- Summoning the Whirlwind: Unconventional Sermons for a Relevant Christian Faith, By Bruce Sanguin
- This Is My Story: Testimonies and Sermons of Black Women in Ministry, Edited By Cleophus J. LaRue
My DOs and DON’Ts of Children’s Sermons
The tricky truth about children’s sermons is that it’s easier to come up with bad ones than good ones.
Yesterday, a Sunday morning Twitter exchange with a few pastors got me thinking about my children’s sermon approach, and how it differs from many of my colleagues. For example, when I saw this site and the idea of teaching about the bentover woman in Luke 13 with a bent spoon, I laughed out lout and closed my browser tab immediately. Later, when I had time to reflect, I found some redeeming qualities to the suggestion, but the bent spoon as an object lesson still puts me off (as if osteoporosis is anything like a bad ice cream scoop — that’s insulting both to our adults with bad backs and to our children’s intelligence!). So, here’s a few of my children’s sermons DOs and Don’ts:
DO:
- My main resource is usually the Bible, usually a story (I say more here ). I don’t tend to tell moralistic stories from life – there’s plenty of time for those outside of worship. Non narrative scripture lessons can work too, but narrative is probably better.
- Teach about worship, liturgy, our worship space, traditions, etc. For example, our congregation often sings the psalm appointed for the day, but rarely did so before I was pastor. So, as we began this practice, the children and I talked about singing psalms, and where we could find them in the Bible.
- One point. One point. One point. I try to make one point and stick to it.
- I’ve found that hand motions and using our bodies together works very well – I thought a very effective children’s sermon took place when the reading was on a version of the Lord’s Prayer, so I taught hand motions to the prayer and everyone – children and older folks – prayed it together with the motions.
DON’T
- I don’t use myself as an example except to connect with the children (and not to connect or get a laugh from the non-children congregants).
- I don’t usually use an object in my children’s sermons. If I do, it’s often a picture and very tied to the point of the children’s sermon rather than a traditional “object lesson.” It’s not that I hate objects (though Calvin did call most of them “idols,”) rather what I understand about children’s learning development is that most of the kids who come up for our children’s sermon can’t yet make the intellectual leap from an object to a point loosely tied to the object — “This chocolate is sweet, just like God is sweet to us” or anything like that. If it doesn’t connect very clearly, I don’t use it.
- I don’t view the children’s sermon as entertainment for the congregation, so I don’t try to get the children to say funny things the congregation will enjoy; I keep open-ended questions to a minimum. Besides missing the point of worship, laughing at the children makes them objects that entertain rather than fellow worshipers. Objectification in worship is never good.
- I don’t feel I must connect the children’s sermon point to the longer sermon later, or even use the same text. Sometimes a children’s sermon is a good way to teach a lectionary text not used otherwise.
I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’m certainly not a gifted children’s sermonizer, and I’m always looking to learn more. For example, last time I posted on children’s sermons, someone commented about a UMC church she knew where the children’s sermon happened on a special rug unrolled for the occasion, on which the kids and a pastor huddle. But that pastor doesn’t have a microphone, and another pastor with a microphone shares announcements from the pulpit while the children quietly huddle around the other pastor. Everyone worships, but the children aren’t made the center of it. Sounds heavenly to me.
image by Flavio Takemoto
The Blame Game
In internet time, this post is eons too late. But a NY Times Op-Ed from Sunday still bothers me three days later, so I’m posting yes, even 72 hours after its publication.
In the Op-Ed, “Congregations Gone Wild”, Jeffrey MacDonald a UCC pastor, blames the trend in pastor burnout on congregational pressure. Congregation members treat religion as a consumer experience, he argues, so pastors who don’t entertain or placate face a bleak future.
Sure, there’s some truth to MacDonald’s argument — congregational life and pastoral leadership has surely changed in the last fifty years. Pastors these days are less often consulted for moral advice than at one time and their standing in society has declined. Yes, pastors face a slough of competition on Sunday mornings from sports to SAT prep courses to second homes. Certainly, pastors’ high obesity rates and waning cultural relevance has something to do with their congregations, but by the end of the article I wanted to scream a classic phrase from pastoral care 101: you’re blaming the victim!
It’s all about the parishioners, MacDonald says. They’re the problem. Somehow he suggests the issue isn’t pandering pastors; not unhealthy-vacation-skipping pastors; not non-exercising hypocritical pastors; not wealth-consumed pastors; not pastors who fail to study or teach the Bible; not pastors who fail to lead relevant services or preach quality sermons; not pastors who forget tradition and take the easy road out; not pastors who read too little and watch TV too much; not pastors who would rather be moderating an investment club than a church council meeting. No, it’s somehow all the fault of the parishioners.
I think that’s bogus. It’s unfair to blame congregation members who have been formed by poor pastoral leadership. It’s unfair to suggest that a family who moves from an unhealthy congregation of one denomination to a thriving congregation in another is somehow contributing to the dilution of pastoral authority. It’s unfair to blame the victim — our poor congregation members — rather than the pastors who lead them, the seminaries who form the pastors, and the broken systems other pastors have developed which current pastors inherit.
I know I’m supposed to be nice and not rant, but my brother in Christ has managed to get under my skin. MacDonald seems to suggest pastors have some higher calling which they must forsake due to the wanton ways of lowly congregation members. But I think the pastoral calling — not higher not lower than any other, by the way — must include the gifts to work within the parameters MacDonald decries. That’s the congregational culture we’ve made ourselves, so pastors need to step up and stop blaming their congregations for the situation in which pastors are called to lead.
Let’s not blame our congregation members. If we must place blame, let’s call it corporate sin, confess it, and be forgiven to live into callings that encourage, support, challenge, nudge, lead, and serve together. Pastors challenging congregation members and members challenging pastors. Nobody wins the blame game but the Evil One. I think Jesus would want that game burnt out, then say, “come and follow me.”
image by Andrew Beierle
One Hundred Sermons
A few weeks ago, thankfully without any fanfare, I preached my 100th sermon. I know this number not because I carefully keep track, but because there are 100 files in my computer’s “Sermon” folder. Many of you more seasoned pastors might scoff at a piddly number like 100, but I’m guessing that, of those who graduated from Columbia Seminary with me in 2009, I’m one of the fastest to reach 100. Many others, even most, won’t get there for years. Why?
Many of my seminary classmates are serving as associate pastors at larger churches. In such a position one gains valuable experience by learning from the other pastors on staff. But another perk — or problem, depending on your perspective — is that many associate pastors preach rather seldom. I have friends who preach once a month, others preach once every six weeks, and even a few preach only once every few months. As it would happen, several of the classmates I consider the most skilled pastors in my class, preach only ten or so times a year. I think that’s a crying shame, but their supervisors didn’t ask me.
As I studied for my M.Div. I took a yearlong internship in Scotland, where I preached a bunch. I’m now a solo pastor and preach pretty much every Sunday.
That sais, here’s the top ten things I learned after preaching 100 sermons (pretend the numbering is backwards from 10 to 1,even though it isn’t due to formatting oddities) :
- Context. Context. Context.
- I really like preaching from the Old Testament.
- I really dislike preaching from both the Old Testament and New Testament in one sermon (or, really, any two texts).
- I wish I used my Biblical language skills more, but I don’t.
- 1500-1800 words is usually about right.
- I preach much better with a manuscript than with an outline (though, yes, many people are the opposite).
- I’ve fallen into using about three sermon forms fairly regularly. For this congregation, I think my lack of creativity actually helps many hear the word.
- Pretty much every manuscript, at some point has a line like, “looking deeper, there’s a more complex and challenging interpretation.” (Though I often cut it out of the draft.)
- The size of the space in which I’m preaching, and number of people attending worship, really affects the rhetoric I use.
- Context. Context. Context.
Ok, preachers out there. What have you learned or been struck by in your last 100 sermons?
image by Simon Cataudo
What is Due Diligence in Preaching?
One of the most important things I do each week as a pastor is prepare for and proclaim the word. As a Minister of Word and Sacrament, my role — and indeed, the office to which I was ordained — is tied to this public proclamation. Of course, preaching need not be done by an ordained minister, but in our imperfect system, it usually is. And so, much of my week has to do with preparing to deliver a sermon on sunday.
Since I’m a preacher’s kid, I had a fair idea of the challenges of such a weekly task even before I signed-up. I
knew about the anguished Saturdays of sermon writing, and even more, the reticence to do anything on Saturday past 9 pm. But I did not anticipate the huge challenge of organizing one’s week around sermon writing.
This all may be highlighted slightly as I’m in a 3/4 time position, but I bet most weekly preachers have the same issue. Basically: there’s so much more to do in my work as a pastor than write a sermon. In fact, almost every week I work my 3/4 time and, only then, get down to writing the sermon. I might have done some sermon prep before my 30 hours, but rarely do I start writing. And never have I finished.
And so I wonder. If sermon preparation and delivery is so important, then why is it always the last thing I do each week?
The Larger Catechism overwhelms me by saying:
“Q 159: How is the Word of God to be preached by those that are called thereunto? A: They that are called to labor in the ministry of the Word are to preach sound doctrine, diligently…plainly, not in the enticing word of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit, and of power; faithfully…wisely…zealously, with fervent love to God, and the souls of his people; sincerely, aiming at his glory, and their conversion, edification, and salvation.”
I’ll surely never preach fulfilling the full meaning of all those adverbs, but I could probably preach better if I devoted more time earlier in the week to preparation. I don’t know for sure, but in seminary and when I was preached every few weeks at my congregation in Scotland, I probably was able to devote 16 plus hours to preparing each sermon. Heck, maybe 20. Were I to do that now, I’d have to cut out huge chunks of my other tasks. I really appreciated Reverend Mother’s post last week “preaching weekly v. preaching monthly” in which she admits she lowers her standards when she preaches weekly. I get that. I do the same. It bothers me, but that’s life, I guess.
But I wonder what would happen if I re-prioritized my week so that my exegetical work, outline, and writing happened on the front side of things. I’d surely get less accomplished otherwise, but my sermons would improve and, ideally, it could also improve the focus of my congregation. I’d maybe come to meetings less prepared and might put a visit off until next week, but the sermon on sunday would be a bit stronger.
One of the commenters on Reverend Mother’s post said Robert Farrar Capon said something about preaching using the analogy of gourmet cooking. “He spoke of the need for the preacher to bring good bread every Sunday rather than a gourmet meal.” I just wonder if the bread would taste better if I baked it by Thursday rather than by Saturday.
So, you experienced preachers and sermon hearers out there. What say you? How important is that proclaimed word of God each week? If you’re a preacher, do you put off writing until Friday or Saturday? If so, what does that say about your dedication to your calling as a preacher? What is due diligence in preaching?
image by Simon Cataudo
Christmas Eve Sermon: “Christmas Boots”
Adam J. Copeland
December 24, 2009
Adams Mountain Lutheran Church
Christmas Boots
Isaiah 9:2-7
Luke 2:1-20
Tonight, thousands of miles away from us here, pilgrims having gathered in Bethlehem at the Church of the Nativity. There they worship God at the site traditionally marking Jesus birth. Some will have traveled many miles to attend a Christmas Eve service at the ancient church. Some Palestinian Christian will just have walked a few blocks from their houses.
Parts of that church in Bethlehem date back to the 4th century, so it’s fascinating to think of the variety of Christmas Eve services celebrated within its walls over the years. From monks to knights, peasants to kings, the church has seen it all.
If you were there tonight, though, and were feeling a little playful I’d suggest playing a game. It’s called, “Spot the American.” My friends and I played it sometimes when I was studying abroad in college. To play you just sit back in a tourist hot spot and try to pick out the Americans. No listing to accents, that’s cheating. You have to do it by sight. After a few trips, it’s actually pretty easy.
You can almost always spot Americans tourists in one of three ways. One, they have their money or passport around their neck on a cord. Have you seen that type of travel wallet? Americans love them, nobody else seems to carry their money so close to their hearts. Another way to spot Americans while traveling is by looking for fanny packs. Yes, we invented the fanny pack so we claim it near and far. Finally, the easiest way of all to spot Americans while traveling is by their shoes, their footwear. I don’t know what it is about the American shoe manufacturing business, or Americans’ feet, but our shoes stand out. There’s the white sneaker that’s almost uniquely American, the black Reebok which makes many trips abroad, and the sensible brown travel shoe. I’m telling you, after a little practice you can spot American footwear a mile away. If you were playing “Spot the American” at the Church of Nativity in Bethlehem tonight, you’d have no problem at all if you focused on the feet.
In that prophetic passage from Isaiah 9 tonight, we hear:
The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness–on them light has shined…For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
Perhaps this passage strikes us even more pointedly this year as 30,000 more troops head to Afghanistan. Isaiah writes that in the day of the Lord all the boots of the tramping warriors will be burned as fuel for the fire.
A few years ago now, Jim Webb ran for the U.S. Senate in Virginia. As a Democrat, he needed to appear especially strong on national security issues, especially considering he was running in the state home to so many who work at the Pentagon. For these political reasons, or just because of where his heart was, Jim Webb wore some very unusual footwear while he campaigned. Jim’s son was just back from a tour of duty in Iraq, and was returning soon. Jim wore his son’s combat boots every day of that campaign, whether now-Senator Webb was wearing jeans or a suit and tie, those combat boots made a statement that he supported his son, and he supported the troops.
Isaiah writes of a time when combat boots are no longer needed, for the enemy has been vanquished. Their boots are thrown into the fire and the people can rejoice for a child has been given to them called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah knew all those names, but he didn’t call him Jesus. Not until a few hundred years later did the world welcome God incarnate by that name. And even then, his birth was not what we might have expected, not the glorious loud triumphal birth of a king, not at all. … Continue Reading
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