CREEDE HINSHAW: Forty years in the pulpit

Last December, I celebrated a significant 40-year anniversary. On Dec. 28, 1975, prior to enrolling in the Candler School of Theology at Emory University, I preached my first sermon at the Wynnton United Methodist Church in Columbus, Ga.

How quickly the decades have passed!

Laity – especially in the Protestant tradition – demand preaching that is “good” and “biblical,” although no two laypersons agree on how to define either of those terms. Good preaching, it seems, is in the ear of the beholder. I’ve heard sermons that, though highly entertaining, had no relation to sacred scripture, and I’ve heard others that, though strictly scriptural, were excruciatingly dry.

To avoid these extremes, the preacher must diligently and daily confront the biblical text. There is no escaping this reality. A sermon comes around every seven days. Never mind that the pastor may have a funeral or two during the week, teach a weekly Bible study, lead a Wednesday night service, officiate at a Saturday evening wedding, rein in an unruly board of deacons or a fearful finance committee. Sunday inexorably comes.

Nothing – absolutely nothing – can substitute for long hours, careful study and thoughtful exposition of the Bible. Anything less than this sacrificial work will result in a sermon containing a deadly combination of triteness, boredom, shallowness and maybe heresy. Sermons purloined from the Internet or gussied up from some prominent preaching guru will end up like the erratic missiles fired by North Korea … impressive for a few moments before crashing and burning.

Having preached now for 40 years, I’ve inflicted a lot of bad sermons on quite a few suffering congregations. I hope most of my churches have forgiven me, especially those first long-suffering church members.

I was so proud of my first sermon! I still remember taking it, on cassette tape, home to Indiana so my father could admire it. We decorously sat in his living room and with great effect I pushed the play button. Five minutes later, my own father was fast asleep — my first dose of reality.

It is said of a preacher that he or she is someone who would travel halfway around the world to preach a sermon, but wouldn’t walk across the street to hear one. There is some truth to this saying, I suppose. Every preacher may be more eager to preach than to listen. But the starving pulpiteer needs to hear good preaching as much or more as his or her parishioners, and I was grateful over the years for those treasured times when I heard the gospel preached effectively.

After all those years in the pulpit, this pastor is now sitting in a church pew, the recipient of consistently good preaching. Four decades of preaching, however, has made it difficult for me to completely refrain from evaluating my peers’ craft of preaching. I’m working on being less of a critic and more of a recipient because good preaching – however defined – is as much a responsibility of the listener as it is the proclaimer.

Email columnist Creede Hinshaw at [email protected].