CREEDE HINSHAW: The ills of the ‘remastered’ sermon

Every preacher, except the newbie, has a whole folder of sermons somewhere: on her/his computer, in a bulging file drawer or scattered in disarray in the desk. I’ve always called them “old sermons,” although maybe I should take a page from the car sales business and call them “previously preached” or, following the thrift shop’s clothing description, call them “gently preached.”

Even better might be to aspire to “remaster” these sermons. That’s what the sound engineers and producers are doing these days with a great deal of old, popular music. Last week, the John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band’s first album, released 50 years ago, was re-released, remastered and remixed. I could try to get into the intricacies of such tinkering, but perhaps it’s enough to say that engineers and producers and preachers are rarely content to leave well enough alone when it comes to a previously recorded song, album or sermon.

I have known a few preachers who have preached “old sermons” without so much as changing a word, and I felt sorry for the listeners. Sermons address subjects that are immediate, and even if the truths are unchanging, the ways to support and enhance that truth must change with the times. If a preacher is still using illustrations involving the TV show “Friends” or the crash of the jetliner into the Hudson River, there’s something quite stale about the sermon and everybody knows it.

The careful proclaimer of the gospel can learn a few things from marketing: Even Colonel Sanders received a makeover a few years ago, and Aunt Jemima has been rightfully relegated to history. I preached more than enough sermons over the decades that needed serious work; some of them, either because of bad theology or poor planning, needed to be tossed immediately following the benediction.

The trick in “remastering” a sermon is to hew closely to the scriptural truth and lesson while breathing fresh life into the message. I discovered over the years that it was almost impossible to recapture the immediacy of the original sermon, and that it was almost 100% of the time better to remix a sermon.

One of my friends, certain some preachers had grown far too dependent on their “previously preached” sermons, invited a bunch of us to his house for an outdoor hotdog roast. He offered to provide the wienies, buns and all the fixings if we’d bring the material for the fire: our old sermons. I don’t think anybody had enough courage to take him up, but it would have been a great act of faith.

The sound engineer would say that remastering a song allows the listener to hear subtle differences that were missed in the original. Even though I often prefer the original song better than the remastered version, I can’t say the same about old sermons. If the preacher allows him/herself to be influenced by the Holy Spirit, without fail the remastered version is fresher, cleaner and closer to God’s truth.