On a Friday of no significance, with no provocation or subtweet intended, I happened to tweet “What’s the

worst sermon you ever heard?” That was a bit of a downer, so I followed it up with a tweet inquiring about
best sermons ever heard. Then I headed off to No Cell Service, Alberta to learn more about Métis history and
culture and forgot about it.

What a thread of responses awaited me upon my return! Hundreds of responses – many from unchurched or
rarely churched people sharing what they heard on those few occasions when they darkened a church door.
The vast majority of examples came from funerals, weddings, or a major holiday like Christmas or Easter. I run
a side hustle helping seekers find churches that suit them, and what I heard was eye-opening, but their
experiences ought to be a wake-up call for anyone who cares for the future of the church. So much bad
preaching out there! Now that I’ve had some time to reflect, I thought I would share what I’ve learned:

1. Preaching is powerful. What a gift to learn that preaching still matters! If anyone were worried that
nobody is listening to us, take heart. People shared sermons they remembered from childhood. Sermons they
remembered from a funeral in 1994. The sermon they heard the first Sunday after 9/11. While I hesitate to
ratchet up the pressure on my fellow preachers, it is a holy and dangerous responsibility to step into a pulpit
and dare to speak the word of God to God’s people gathered in worship. Preachers are called to take this
responsibility seriously, to commit to putting in the time and effort it takes to bring Good News to a people
aching to hear it. Certainly, you don’t need to heed the Twitter cliché that “if your preacher doesn’t address X
tomorrow, walk out,” but know that people are listening, and will remember what you say. That Sondheim
song lamenting that “children will listen” could not warn us more clearly. Careful the tale you tell, to be sure!

2. Weddings, funerals, and the major festivals are opportunities not to be squandered. I always joke at
wedding rehearsals that the couple needn’t worry I’ll run long – I’m well aware that nobody came for me. But
a good 2/3rds of the sermons submitted came from one of these occasions. Nobody comes to a wedding or
funeral for the sake of the sermon, but once they’re in the pew, they’re listening. So many people shared
stories of these precious chances to proclaim the Gospel being squandered! Many funerals were devoted to
condemnation of the preacher’s political opponents. One preacher apparently decided what folks needed to
hear at Easter was that birth control is evil. Wedding sermons wasted on jokes about the wedding night – the
list goes on. The Gospel we have been given the privilege to share is good news! How dare we waste it on such
irrelevant concerns? The very idea of substituting our own personal pet peeves for the good news of God’s
love is anathema at any time, and to waste these rare occasions to offer hope to the despairing, comfort to
those who mourn, rest to the weary, love to the loveless on human nonsense is straight up malpractice. If you
cannot, on Easter morning, be bothered to set aside whatever you’re on about this week to preach the
resurrection, then this may not be the vocation for you.

3. God belongs at the center. People told me about sermons that never mentioned God once. Another
sermon went through the Psalm, verse by verse, with no apparent thesis about the subject of that Psalm.
Another shared a sermon that shamed people (again, at a wedding) for not tithing properly because “those
renovations weren’t cheap.” One Christmas Eve, the preacher spent the majority of his time talking about the
Blessed Virgin’s hymen. Another preacher raged about Bible translations for the entirety. We must heed Saint
Evelyn Underhill’s advice that “God is the interesting thing about the Church.” Sermons are not historical or
scientific lectures, and they ought to make God, and what God is doing, the point. Of course we can talk about
tithing (though I hope not with shame, and I hope not at a wedding). Of course we can explain difficult
technical points about translation. Of course we can correct false doctrine and challenge evil in the world. But
if our preaching is primarily about human beings and what human beings are doing, we make ourselves the
center of the universe, rather than the One who created it.
This, too, means that we must not get caught up in focusing too much on human morality. Long lists of what
the listeners should or should not do are not the purpose of our work. Naturally, I hope that listeners are
formed into a “long obedience in the same direction” that makes the kingdom of this world more like the
kingdom of heaven. But they won’t get there by finger-wagging. As the old hymn says, “though the wrong
seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.” When we focus on the changes we must make, we make the wrong
seem stronger than it is. Preach about what God is doing, and that will be enough.

4. Memorability isn’t the best judge of quality. The best sermons aren’t always memorable. Many readers
of these threads were discouraged by the ratio of responses (859 worsts to 67 bests), but I wasn’t. I have
heard many good, and quite a few truly great sermons in my life, but it’s hard to say what it is that made them
“the best.” Presiding Bishop Curry’s sermon at the Royal Wedding was memorable and good in many ways.
Certainly in my diocese it provoked serious study about what it was that made it so good. But many who
struggled to respond to my “best sermon you ever heard” thread are faithful Christians whose lives testify to
their having lived under good teaching that spurs them on to extraordinary discipleship. It’s easy to remember
the train wrecks. Harder to identify the secret sauce that makes the kind of preaching which causes its hearers
to grow in the knowledge and love of God. And yet it is that kind of everyday preaching that nourishes those
who hear it to produce the fruit of the kingdom of God.

Preaching matters, and we who practice it would do well to be mindful of its power. And, we are not called to
preach a home run every week. Our vanity might be flattered, but praise of our genius isn’t the best measure
of preaching’s quality. Rather, our call is to make disciples of Jesus Christ. Perhaps the best advice we could
follow, then, is to get out of the way of the Good News that Jesus is bringing. To quit cluttering our sermons up
with extra things. To become hopemongers, John the Baptists, preparing the way for Jesus Messiah to come
into each heart with His power, His glory, and His love for each person listening in.