Slowly, I've begun to enjoy more and more the whole thing about preaching. This extends from the beginning in searching for a series to preach, breaking down the weekly topics and passages, the preparation and study that goes into each week, and then being able to share that with people who I hope can also find enjoyment in hearing what God has to say.
They say that when we present an informative speech of some kind, whether preaching, teaching, etc., it's like we spend time in a cave where we are studying all the creases, the edges, and the corners, learning about the cave and what it's about, and then taking a piece of that cave and showing it to people. The piece of the cave is supposed to give everyone an idea of what the entire cave is like. Like my cousin, Jon, said to me once, "why take one piece of the cave to the people, when I can just bring them to the cave itself?" I couldn't agree more. It's nice to bring one piece of what we study and try to get people to understand what the entirety is like; but what would really bring satisfaction is if we can use that piece to get people excited enough so that they go and visit the cave themselves.
This is really what I try to accomplish when I preach. I want to tell people to be excited about Jesus and who they are in him at the end of every message. Sometimes it's convicting, sometimes it's joyful. It's in my hopes that how I present the message brings a certain amount of sweetness that everyone can taste in their mouths, but wanting more. So it's a very neat science for me to determine what and how much I explain in each point of the message. I can't leave it so open that people are second guessing what I'm saying; but I also don't want to explain every detail too vividly. I think this is usually what I let go of and let the Spirit do the work. I trust that I put in the work, and whatever gets the peoples' ears to perk up is his work.
What I love even more about preaching is the retreat I get after it - the Sunday night. I do my best to keep Sunday nights to myself, because it allows me to come home to my haven and retreat from everything that happened during the week. Knowing that I've completed a cycle of the work, and that there are no pressures for me to wake up the next day, it brings an incredible peace to my mind and heart.
Spending so much time in the Word (or the cave, as I've illustrated earlier), it gets to a point where I think most of us need to sit back and let everything soak in before we continue further. Sunday night is that for me. I get to sit at home with as little disturbances as I allow, and just have everything sink in. I reflect, and I rest in God's peace. It's honestly one of the most comforting and theraputic things I've ever experienced. Even in the times where I feel like I preached a terrible sermon, being able to soak everything in and just relax is so refreshing.
Obviously, I'm not afforded a whole lot of time off anymore, and I think that's okay. This just makes me all the more thankful for the time that I do have off. Being able to come home, in a familiar place and surrounding, it's really quite heavenly. It's the feeling of stepping behind the curtain and "disappearing for a while" that I really find rewarding. As an introvert, I can indulge in this any day.
I love preaching, and the retreat after it may be as awesome as the preaching itself. This is my thanksgiving.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Muse About
Every now and then, I try to put myself in someone's shoes when they have to deal with me. It's funny because I don't know what people are like exactly when they think, but I like to imagine anyway.
Then, every so often I think about the education that I received. Technically, I graduated with a Bachelor of Theology, major in church ministries. When I really think about it, what does that even mean? Practically speaking, what does it mean for me to be identified with a BTh? I have no clue. When I left Ambrose, I didn't feel a whole BTh smarter than I was before I went in - that's for sure.
I continue and think about what my professors thought of me. Everyone knows that professors talk about their students to their faculty, but I don't know how much of me ever gets mentioned. I know from the chats I've had that I'm usually seen as a more timid and shy person, going about my own business quietly and never really getting too involved in class. But that's usually about it. I think it wasn't until after I took a preaching class and after I came back from my internship that my professors really started to get to know me. This is because there's no hiding from actual performance and evaluation of that performance.
To me, it makes sense that you don't really see much of me until it gets to the practical everyday life kind of environment that you can get a grasp of what I'm like around people. I've never been all that into formal schooling and education.
In some ways, I'm learning so much more now that I'm on my own than I ever would've learned in the classroom - this always seems to be the case, for some reason.
I can be preparing for a sermon or a study that requires me to read in depth into the bible; and often, I will read and discover things that make me think, "how did I not know this before?" Which, then, leads me to asking how or why my professors even passed me when my knowledge is so bad. Contrary to how I feel about schooling, I actually finished pretty well, relatively speaking. It still baffles me, though, to try to picture myself as my professor sitting there reading one of my papers.
How or why in the world do they pass me? I guess I say this because I still feel guilty that I didn't put in the best effort on my assignments and exams. So in some ways, I feel that I don't really deserve the grades that I get.
So I finally managed to look over some of my papers lately. Some of them are awfully written, and got a grade better than I would've given it.
However, I guess I do admit that if there is one trend in my papers that I do well on, it's that I seemed to manage a firm grasp on the centrality of the gospel's importance on our lives. Christ's work on the cross really was the climax of all existence. Really, the very reason anything happens is supposed to point to the cross. I understood, and continue to understand, that. I find that understanding the relevance, the centrality, and the importance of the gospel really isn't something any schooling can ever teach you; it's just something you have to realize on your own, with the help of others, and with the grace of God.
Maybe my professors saw that I grasped that, so they gave me credit. Who knows? I just like to muse about these things every once in a while.
Then, every so often I think about the education that I received. Technically, I graduated with a Bachelor of Theology, major in church ministries. When I really think about it, what does that even mean? Practically speaking, what does it mean for me to be identified with a BTh? I have no clue. When I left Ambrose, I didn't feel a whole BTh smarter than I was before I went in - that's for sure.
I continue and think about what my professors thought of me. Everyone knows that professors talk about their students to their faculty, but I don't know how much of me ever gets mentioned. I know from the chats I've had that I'm usually seen as a more timid and shy person, going about my own business quietly and never really getting too involved in class. But that's usually about it. I think it wasn't until after I took a preaching class and after I came back from my internship that my professors really started to get to know me. This is because there's no hiding from actual performance and evaluation of that performance.
To me, it makes sense that you don't really see much of me until it gets to the practical everyday life kind of environment that you can get a grasp of what I'm like around people. I've never been all that into formal schooling and education.
In some ways, I'm learning so much more now that I'm on my own than I ever would've learned in the classroom - this always seems to be the case, for some reason.
I can be preparing for a sermon or a study that requires me to read in depth into the bible; and often, I will read and discover things that make me think, "how did I not know this before?" Which, then, leads me to asking how or why my professors even passed me when my knowledge is so bad. Contrary to how I feel about schooling, I actually finished pretty well, relatively speaking. It still baffles me, though, to try to picture myself as my professor sitting there reading one of my papers.
How or why in the world do they pass me? I guess I say this because I still feel guilty that I didn't put in the best effort on my assignments and exams. So in some ways, I feel that I don't really deserve the grades that I get.
So I finally managed to look over some of my papers lately. Some of them are awfully written, and got a grade better than I would've given it.
However, I guess I do admit that if there is one trend in my papers that I do well on, it's that I seemed to manage a firm grasp on the centrality of the gospel's importance on our lives. Christ's work on the cross really was the climax of all existence. Really, the very reason anything happens is supposed to point to the cross. I understood, and continue to understand, that. I find that understanding the relevance, the centrality, and the importance of the gospel really isn't something any schooling can ever teach you; it's just something you have to realize on your own, with the help of others, and with the grace of God.
Maybe my professors saw that I grasped that, so they gave me credit. Who knows? I just like to muse about these things every once in a while.
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