Sermons

I've been constipated a time or two in my life.
Not a fun experience.
You strain and strain to no avail
and the discomfort lingers for ages
until the log is finally birthed.

That's what it's like for me to write sermons every week.
Every blank week!
thirteen years plus funerals and memorial services
I've been at this.
I've preached hundreds of sermons now.
The pressure is relentless.
It never leaves me.
As soon as one is birthed,
the next one gets in line waiting for its turn.

The inner critic has a field day with me -
Not good enough!
Trite!
You'll put everyone to sleep with that!
You're not smart enough to do this
Quit.
You're killing your church!

Every blank week we battle.
It reaches a climax on Saturday when we duke it out.
Sometimes the battle continues through the night
and the next morning
until the thing is finally birthed.
O what a relief it is!

But then Sunday morning comes
and I awaken with anticipation
and stand to offer my tiny gift to the love of God
and sometimes I sense God smiling
and loving me all the way through it
and I feel blessed
to have had such a privilege.

It is a strange call to be a preacher,
a terrifying call in so many ways.
There are so many voices telling me how to do it
and my style doesn't always fit the mold.
I do it for the love of God
because I heard him call me to it.
I want so much to please Him
and to sense His love and power among us.
but I cannot control the outcome.
Only God can.
I do the best I can with the gifts I have
and wait
and hope
and pray
that Christ will stand among us once more
and feed His people with the bread of life.