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.