Writing sermons is hard, Part 4

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

You know what the difference is between me and Billy Graham? When Billy Graham preaches on that text, fifty thousand people turn their lives over to Jesus. When I preach on that text, a homemade posterboard reading "John 3:16" and a rainbow clown wig are involved.


Ah yes, John 3:16. One of the most beloved verses in the Bible. If you were ever asked to memorize Bible verses in Sunday School, this one was probably at the top of the list. That, friends, is the gospel in miniature. A nugget of wisdom so profound that one of my seminary classmates tells the story that when he was asked to preach on that text, he got in the pulpit, read John 3:16-17 very slowly, said "all else is commentary," and sat down.


And frankly, I was tempted to do the same thing.


The baseball analogy is this: sometimes, the sermon text is a chest-high fastball with no movement. Or better yet, a ball on a tee. It just sits there, begging to be crushed.

Come on, here I am, the whole gospel in fifty-two words. I'm begging you to hit me. Hard. I'm a home run ball waiting to happen.

Okay, I'll admit it, I see texts like this and, what goes through my mind is: don't miss.

Sometimes, I'm just speechless in the face of Paul, or the author of Mark, or Genesis, or especially John. And every last thing that goes through my mind to say instantly gets compared to the very bestest sermon that there ever could be, with the result that nothing gets out from between my teeth. I stare for hours at a blank Word document. Then close the window, or turn off the computer, because I'm tired of the blank screen mocking me.