Full Sentence Sermon Outlines PDF

What do I mean by a “full sentence outline”? Just that: an outline composed of complete sentences. So often we think that we understand something when we don’t, if we write only a word or a phrase. Moreover, you may understand now, and the single word or phrase may serve you well to trigger your mem...

What do I mean by a “full sentence outline”? Just that: an outline composed of complete sentences. So often we think that we understand something when we don’t, if we write only a word or a phrase. Moreover, you may understand now, and the single word or phrase may serve you well to trigger your memory now, but five years from now, in another pastorate and hundreds of sermons (with words and phrases) later—will it still do so? Probably not. The full sentence outline, however, will preserve your thought. That is another purpose for it. Now, I suggest also that you print out the sermon by hand; doing so gives you flexibility. For instance, major points can be made to stand out by enlarging them; at a glance, with a glance, you can read them in the pulpit without searching. Other points, probably not needed in the pulpit, but there for future preservation, and there in the pulpit just in case, may be lettered by hand in smaller print. Here is how a slice of the body of such a sermon outline might look: As you can see, at a single glance you can pick up each major point. These major points I always underline with a felt tip pen in green; Bible references are underlined in red, and illustrative material in blue. If I need to refer to this material—I often take a look at Bible references (to be sure) before announcing them, and sometimes I want to use some exact wording in illustrative material—again at a glance, I can instantly spot any information I need while I am preaching. Some such method may prove useful to you too. Now, because this is a homiletic textbook and not a book on speech and rhetoric, in it I should not have to show you how to organize and outline material in terms of coordinate and subordinate points, etc. Yet I know from experience in teaching that many seminary students—and even some pastors —are very deficient in these matters. Yet, I cannot bring myself to clutter these pages with such things. (If you need help—and you should be honest about the matter—consult my more basic book, Pulpit Speech.4) Instead, I want to talk about a matter that can’t be found in speech books or, for that matter, in homiletic textbooks either: it is the importance of developing a preaching outline. “What makes an outline a preaching outline?” you may wonder. That is what I want you to consider. If the basic purpose of an outline is to cue the preacher, then the outline should cue him to preach. Many men who want to preach, rather than to lecture, find themselves hindered by wrong signals emanating from their outlines, which cue them wrongly. Just as many (perhaps most) preachers lecture rather than preach, and they are concerned about central ideas, themes, and the like, rather than about purpose, so too do they develop outlines that are suited not to preaching but to lecturing. They don’t know any better—that is how they were taught—and as a result find themselves cued by the outline for lecturing, which they then proceed to do—on cue. Even if they wanted to preach according to those outlines, they would find themselves frustrated at every point. When they abandon the lecture platform and turn to preaching, they will have to dispose of their former outlines as surely as the Ephesians burned their magic books. The lecture format and the preaching format, just like the lecture stance and the preaching stance, contrast with one another in every vital respect: Lecture Format Preaching Format 1. Then and there 1. Here and now 2. Third person emphasis 2. Second person emphasis 3. Abstract 3. Concrete 4. In terms of others 4. In terms of the congregation 5. Informative 5. Persuasive or motivational At the top of a lecture outline, under the title, will be a thematic statement or statement of the central idea: “The theme of this sermon [sic] is daily prayer.” In a true preaching outline there will be, at the top of the outline, not a thematic statement, but a telic (or purpose) statement that will look something like this: “My purpose is to encourage you to pray daily.” Compare and contrast the two; can’t you see the difference already? Notice how the thematic statement orients and cues the speaker to lecture about a topic as information, while the purpose statement prepares him to preach to people about their lives? But the contrast does not stop with the cuing statement at the top of the outline. It extends to the entire outline. Here, again, are two examples: Lecture Format Preaching Format The Gifts of the Spirit Use Your Spiritual Gifts I. The source of the I. God gave each of you gifts. Corinthians’ gift. II. The function of the Corinthians II. God gave you them to use. gift. III. The purpose of the III. God gave them to use for the benefit Corinthians’ gift. of others. Notice the differences, not only in the titles, but throughout. Of course, I have included only the major heads, but the same thing holds true for subordinate points that is true for these major heads. 1. These titles differ: —One is abstract, the other personal. —One is factual, the other is motivational. 2. The main points are different: —Those in one are abstract, in the other personal. —In one, the focus is on the Corinthians, in the other on the congregation. You can see clearly, can’t you, that the preaching format continually cues the preacher to be personal, to address his congregation, to bring them face to face with God and His requirements; in short, it cues him to preach. The lecture format cues the speaker to lecture about, not to preach to. Notice the abstract terms “source, function, purpose” in the first outline. Words like these put congregations to sleep. They do not say anything helpful. They are abstract and analytical and squeeze all the juice out of a text and its truth. Actually, they could be used in any talk. Indeed, the way some preachers use such terms, they might as well mimeograph two or three such “universal outlines” with blanks to fill in. I. The Source of II. The Function of III. The Purpose of or I. The Nature of II. The Purpose of III. The Results of These are not preaching outlines; they are outlines of analytical studies of a topic. It is possible for you to speak for 40 to 45 minutes from a lecture outline of this sort and yet never tell the congregation anything about themselves and what God expects of them. One way in which the preaching outline, cast in its preaching format, helps the preacher to accomplish his purpose is by forcing him—if he follows it— to apply the truth of his passage to the congregation throughout. Notice how each point is made to the congregation. A preaching outline is the outline of a message, an outline of a talk directed to people in order to change them in some way that God wants to see them changed. A lecture outline is the outline of a talk, designed to inform, but not necessarily to change. It is not a message; it is a learned discourse on a subject. It hangs facts out on the line to flap in the breeze. A preaching outline is designed to thrust truth into the midst of lives in order to change those lives. When preachers who use the lecture format (inherited from the medieval scholastics through the English Puritans) realize that they must apply the passage, what they usually do is to tack on an application at the end. I say “tack on,” because it does not naturally fit the lecture format. Here is how it goes: “And now what does all this have to do with us.” (Usually a lecturer is deathly afraid of saying “you.”) It is a little late, however, to ask that question and to apply something or other that has been discussed for 30-odd minutes in the abstract. The preacher, on the other hand, using a genuine preaching outline, applies all along the way; indeed, in one sense the whole sermon is application. The preaching format is an applicatory format by nature; nothing needs to be “tacked on” (I’ll say a lot more about application in a later chapter). “But doesn’t the lecturer say more about the text than does the applicatory preacher?” No. The preacher explains the text just as fully as does the lecturer; in fact, more fully. He explains the telos as well. Everything of importance that the lecturer might say about the passage (and, lecturing lends itself to by-paths, discussing unimportant details, it must be remembered) the preacher can say also. The difference is in how they handle the same material; the difference is in their orientation and use of it, and in how they say what they say. The lecturer says, “Let us look at the source of the Corinthians’ gifts.” The preacher says, “This passage teaches that God gave you gifts through the Holy Spirit. See, here it is....” Then he too considers the passage. But the congregation knows why they are looking at it when he does. They know that they are discovering what God did for the Corinthians in order to discover what He does for them.5 Few more important facts could be said about outlining. I have put the emphasis where it belongs: be sure your outline is truly a preaching outline. Here I could have spoken about introductions and conclusions, but I shall reserve that for later. But one word about conclusions in relationship to telic statements now, and one other matter, and I shall close this chapter. One way to check your sermon outline when you have finished sketching it in rough form is to read the purpose statement at the top, which tells you where you intend to go, then read over the conclusion to see if you got there. If, in your telic statement, you say, “My purpose is to travel to New York,” and in the conclusion you find yourself talking about Washington, D.C., and how you “finally arrived there after a long, hard trip,” you know that somewhere in the body of the sermon you took a wrong turn. Go back and look for it. You will find that you did—every time! I know of no more valuable check that you can make to determine the unity and direct line of thought from start to finish. Check out a half dozen of your sermons this way, and you may be surprised to find that you frequently get lost along the way. If you can’t steer a straight course, how do you expect your listeners to do so? The final matter I mentioned is whether or not you should announce main points in your outline to the congregation. Some scholastics insist on it. Should you? Yes and no. As a matter of form, the answer is no; you should have a good purpose for everything you do. It is not a good purpose to announce points simply because some scholastic homileticians say so! No, the rule is do nothing unless it serves a useful biblical purpose. You will not want to announce points ordinarily; they will break the flow of the discourse if there is no good reason for announcing them. You will want to announce points when the fact of “so many points” or of “these particular steps” is of significance to the argument, helps to clarify a concept for the congregation, or enables them to remember something—i.e., when there is a good purpose for doing so. Thus, you may hear yourself from time to time rightly saying, “Now, I want you to know that God requires two things of you in this situation, not one. He says not only that you must ‘put off’ your old sinful patterns, but also you must ‘put on’ new righteous ones. You cannot break habits; you must replace them with biblical alternatives. So, remember two things are necessary: putting off and putting on. We shall consider each. First, you must put off your old sinful ways....” Here, you can see a good reason for announcing your heads. So many people fail to change because they try to “break” habits, as the world says, considering the process to be single factored. Because you want to make a point of the fact that there are two steps in the process, you will ring in the changes on those two points throughout. But in a sermon in which there is no point to announcing heads, don’t. Whatever serves no good purpose, serves to hinder rather than help. If announcing points does not make a point, don’t announce them. So, in conclusion, much more could be said about outlining and has been said elsewhere. Here, all I wish to say is to be sure that your outline is cast in a preaching format—that is the crucial issue. Why? Because the purpose of an outline is to help you to do what you must do: preach! NOTE There is one common practice that deserves mention. Often, preachers, especially those who try to “stay close to the text” and so-called “expository” preachers will tell you that they use the structure of the passage to determine the structure of their sermon. Typically you will hear them say things like, “Now this text naturally falls into three divisions.” So, it falls into three divisions; so what? Does that mean that sermons from Revelation will have seven points? Will a message from Proverbs always have two because proverbs “naturally” fall into two divisions? Will all preaching from John, with his many contrasts (light/darkness, truth/error, etc.), also be two- pointed? To say that a passage falls into so many divisions may be good literary and rhetorical analysis, but what has that got to do with preaching forms? What is the purpose of following the “natural textual divisions”? To be more biblical? To do so doesn’t make you more biblical but less biblical. Nowhere do you find a biblical preacher saying, “Now my text naturally falls...” or anything like it. Why does a proverb “fall into two divisions”? Not for preaching purposes, but, as I mentioned, because it is a Hebrew poetical form consisting of antithesis or repetition. What you are doing when you allow the form of the text to dictate the form of the sermon, in most cases, makes no sense. You are to preach, not to recite poetry; why, then, use a poetical form? The proverbial form is just right for a proverb, but usually it isn’t right for preaching. There are narrative, apocalyptic, parabolic, epistolary forms, etc. Each has its own structure, suited for its own purpose; but that purpose isn’t preaching. Only in some places does another form overlap the preaching form. One reason why Paul’s letters, for instance, often nicely accommodate themselves to preaching is that Paul himself was a preacher. When he wrote, he employed an amanuensis, and his dictation often represents the same sort of material he must have taught when he preached in the churches in similar form. Therefore, portions of his letters are in preaching form; indeed, one can even hear Paul’s dictation turn into preaching at times as he reads. (For a good study of Paul’s edificational preaching, examine his letters.) But, for the most part, the form in which a passage appears must be “translated” from a narrative form (you are not telling a story), a poetic form (you are not reciting poetry), etc., into a preaching form. Unlike an acrostic poem, designed for memorization, you are preaching, an activity that is designed for change. The design changes the form. A sermon develops its peculiar form from the fact that it is a message to people about their relationship to God. Whatever legitimate ways that best reach people, therefore, are viable in sermon construction; the Bible gives us no set directions about form. But in its own practice the Bible does demonstrate the principle of the use of forms appropriate to one’s purpose. Ordinarily the major thrust of a sermon should come early. Then it may be reinforced by helpful (not unnecessary) repetition, phrased in varied ways, throughout the course of the sermon. But at times, when a congregation is likely to be opposed to a truth, it might be wiser to save the punch line for closer to the end (as Nathan did when addressing David and as Stephen did when preaching to the Jews) in order to get a hearing. A wide variety of preaching forms is possible, as even a study of New Testament evangelistic preaching reveals. But, unless the passage itself “naturally falls into preaching divisions,” there is no more warrant for using its structure to govern the sermon structure than to use any other. Class Assignments: 1. Take an outline of one of your sermons, already written, and test it for its format: Is it cast in a preaching or lecture format? If the former, congratulations! Note its features. If not, “translate” it into a preaching format, personalizing it, updating it to the here and now, etc. Turn in a copy of both. 2. In class, take two or three printed “sermon” outlines that are cast in lecture form. Together, as a class, work on them to recast them in preaching form, using the overhead projector. 1. I shall speak of illustrative materials, etc., at a later point. 2. Pp. 113ff. 3. See information later on about this matter. 4. If this textbook is used in a formal course, it would be well to have a few copies of Pulpit Speech on reserve, and to give some assignments from it as need arises. 5. Of course, there will not always be a one-to-one correspondence. As in this instance, the preacher will be careful to distinguish between the ordinary gifts that are for all and the extraordinary gifts that were given to authenticate the apostles (II Cor. 12:12). 10 PURPOSEFUL INTRODUCTIONS The purpose of an introduction is to lead the congregation into the matter to be discussed. If it fails to do that, it fails. The preacher has been studying the passage of Scripture from which he will preach, and thinking about it, for some time (in most cases all week long; in my program, infra, for six months); presumably, even in the midst of a series of sermons on a Bible book, the congregation has not. They come to the passage cold; that is why an introduction is in order. A good introduction orients the congregation to what will be said by arresting and interesting the congregation. When you begin to preach, many (perhaps most) of the members of the assembly are thinking of other things.1 As far as the thrust of your preaching portion is concerned, they will be disoriented. So you must orient them to it by what you say at the beginning. Orienting a congregation, as I said, involves arresting attention and creating interest. Arresting, or getting attention, is absolutely essential; until you have done so, the congregation will hear nothing that you have to say, no matter how valuable or interesting it may be. But, on the other hand, once you have gained a hearing you must hold it. That is done by creating interest. It is of little value to gain attention if that is not immediately turned into interest. The function of a good introduction is to do both. How, then, may you orient a congregation to God’s message by arresting and holding their attention? The first factor is to begin with the congregation itself. Many pastors, instead, begin with the preaching portion. However, if the congregation is inattentive, does not know what the passage means, what to look for in it, or cannot see its relevance to anything that is taking place in their lives, the congregation needs orientation; it is better to begin with the congregation. The object in doing so is to help them to approach the reading and exposition of the preaching portion with understanding and concern. The idea is to orient the congregation to the Scripture by showing its relevance to them. Using the simplest form, a form that is useful when you recognize that there is already a high level of attention, understanding, and expectancy among the members of the congregation,2 in the introduction you may make a statement, ask a question or series of questions, or both. Here are some samples of simple introductions: 1. Assertion question: “God gave each one of you certain gifts. How many of you are aware of this? Do you know what your gifts are? Well, today we shall take a close look at I Corinthians 12:6-8 to discover what God wants you to know about your gifts.”3 2. Question series: “Are you a worrier? Have you ever prayed for peace and found that it didn’t come? Have you tried to turn off that worry but couldn’t find the switch? Yes? Well, let’s take a fresh look at Philippians 4:6-9 to see if we can discover what has gone wrong.” 3. Simple question: “How do you respond to trouble when it comes? Some complain, some whine, others get angry, and still others go to pieces. Obviously, these are all wrong, sinful responses. As we turn to Philippians 1:12-18 we shall see how God wants you to respond.” 4. Simple statement: “Today, we are going to study what the Bible teaches about your sexuality.”4 This is the easiest, most direct, and quickest way to open a sermon. And it ought not to be disdained merely because it is so. However, there are some precautions to consider. In order to arrest attention, be sure that you 1. don’t use this format in every sermon; 2. don’t use it when there is little or no expectancy in the congregation; 3. don’t use it when an explanation of one sort or another is in  order. When the congregation’s attention and interest are likely to be difficult to attract and hold, use either a short story (children 9-99 years of age enjoy a story) or a startling statement. Let’s begin with the latter. Here are two examples of a startling statement: 1. “There is a murderer sitting in this congregation today.” After this initial statement, a quick build-up of suspense, as the statement is enlarged and expanded, might follow: “Yes, I mean it. Just yesterday he murdered someone. He didn’t think that anyone saw him, but he was wrong. I have a written statement from an eyewitness that I am going to read. Here is what it says: ‘Everybody who hates his brother is a murderer’ (I John 3:15).” Obviously, you will want to use the startling statement with great care and infrequently. How you say what you say is so critical that you ought to write it out beforehand and insert it in your outline. Even the expansion should be written out, since this is the place where it is easiest to go wrong. Thus the introduction will appear in the outline as a short paragraph. The frequency with which you use such an introduction, as well as how carefully it is worded, will have much to do with its effectiveness. If you cry “wolf, wolf” every week, the startling statement will quickly lose its effect. So, save this introduction for those occasions when you think you will need it —even when you know that you’ve come up with a doozie that you’d just love to use this week. Don’t give in; scrap it. Use the startling statement only when it will be needed, i.e., only when it can be used purposefully. The startling statement arouses a high level of attention at the very beginning that is difficult to sustain. So you must take great care about what immediately follows. It must not be a letdown; it must hold and deepen that interest. Probably it is wise in such a sermon, sustained from the outset on such a high emotional level, to fill it with punchy, short sentences, move rapidly from one point to the next, and close the sermon early. Short sermons, with a high level of emotional tension, probably make as much (or more) of an impact as longer, more deliberate and slower-moving ones. Keep it brief! 2. “ ‘There is no hell; the whole idea is a scam devised by preachers and priests to hold congregations in line. The truth is, you might as  well lie, steal, commit adultery, or do whatever you can get away with—God isn’t really going to do anything about it.’ That’s what I heard a man say the other day. How would you answer him? How would you fortify your children against such teaching? And, by the way, is it possible that there is someone here today who is wondering whether what that man said may be right?” That the startling statement is effective in arresting attention is without a doubt true. That it can be used only infrequently and only with great care in wording is also true. A third way to open a sermon is with a brief story, example, or incident. This kind of introduction is self-explanatory and calls for no samples. But there are misuses connected with it against which some warnings quite appropriately may be issued. And a few remarks also may be made about how to use it most effectively. Discussion of the art of story-telling, using examples, etc., will be reserved for a later chapter. First, never use a story that does not truly introduce. Sometimes we become enamored with a story or incident that we want to tell; so we use it even if it doesn’t fit. Never do that. However, having said that, it might be helpful to state that there are ways of making a story, that at first didn’t seem appropriate, quite fitting. One of these is to contrast it with what you wish to say. Something very desirable, great, etc., may be set over against the actual, existing situation. Another way is to alter the story: “That is what actually happened. But suppose, instead, it had happened like this ” Secondly, don’t drag the story out too long. The purpose of the story is to capture the listener’s attention and direct it toward the truth of the biblical passage; it is not to create interest in the story itself, for itself. Be sure that the story leads the listener’s mind to the message; if it doesn’t it distracts and leads away from the message. These two misuses (apart from problems connected with story-telling per se) are the greatest problems connected with story-telling in introductions that I know. To use the short story, example, or incident effectively, use dialogue and descriptive color if the story is to be extended to any length (see information on this infra). But carefully think through what, precisely, is necessary in the telling of the story to make the point you wish to make and then peel away everything else—no matter how tantalizing it may seem to be. In the introduction, economy is of the essence. Also, be sure not only that the story makes the point, or can be used to do so, but also that it involves or can be used to involve the congregation. There are three basic ways in which you can do this: 1. Tell a story about the congregation itself. 2. Tell a story about something or someone in which the congregation is interested. 3. Tell a story, and then at its conclusion, in one sentence, apply it to the congregation (e.g., “And, that’s exactly what has been happening here,” or “Don’t think that such things take place only in New York or other large cities. Your child ”) There are a number of secondary purposes for using a story, but I cannot enter into them here. All that needs to be said in this place is that these must always be subjected to the major purpose of the story in an introduction—to arrest attention and create interest by involving the congregation in the subject of the message. While introductions may occur to you at any time during the preparation of a sermon, usually they are most easily and best developed when all else has been roughed in. Then, and perhaps then only, will you know exactly what you will be introducing. When preparing the introduction, consider whether in some way you can tie it in with the conclusion. This wraps up the entire sermon in a way that gives it unity and force (e.g., “So you see, the problem we raised at the beginning has been solved....” or “Now, if you will only do what you have learned today, just let that man [the one mentioned in the introduction] come into our midst. You’ll be ready for him”). Introductions are important, as you can see. But so are conclusions, to which we must now turn our attention. Class Assignments: 1. Discover three good introductions in existing sermons and, in a three- page paper, discuss what makes them good. 2. Produce five good introductions of your own to hand in. 1. A properly designed and effected worship service will do much to keep minds from wandering, to create a state o f expectancy, and to prepare the way for the message, even as the message complements, and often climaxes, what has come before. 2. Sometimes it is wise to have alternative introductions available when the state of the congregation cannot be predicted. 3. Notice how, at the outset, the sermon involves the congregation. Like the rest of the preaching outline, the introduction must be cast in the here- and-now, personalized preaching format. In the other samples you will find that the same thing holds true. 4. Some subjects, like this one, are their own interest-arousers. There is no need to elaborate; indeed, to do so may actually detract from attention and interest: the congregation wants you to get on with the subject, not to string out your information. 11 PURPOSEFUL CONCLUSIONS Without a good conclusion, the (otherwise) best sermon is a dud. As we have seen, introductions are important; if anything, conclusions are even more important. But conclusions raise different issues. Like introductions, conclusions take their cue from the telos of the sermon proper. If, in the body of the sermon, primarily you have been teaching new truths, in the conclusion you will probably want to restate and reemphasize these. A summary of what was taught will be helpful, but it should be brief and should focus only on the major thrusts that were made. One caution: be sure not to introduce new material when summarizing. If you want to use such material, go back and see where it best fits in the sermon body and insert it there. However, you may restate the old material in new ways. But the new way (or any old one that is reiterated in the conclusion) must be the way in which you want the truth or truths to be remembered. What you say in the conclusion is what people usually take away with them. This fact alone shows you how vital the conclusion—and its form—can be. The conclusion should truly conclude. Another way of saying that is that there should be only one conclusion. Some preachers are in their final approach toward the runway when, at an altitude of only a few feet from the ground, they get a new thought and—instead of landing—zoom up into the air again. Then, once more, they circle the field, line up with the landing strip, lower their flaps and start to come in for a landing, only to shoot up into the sky instead. Or, to change the figure, some preachers are musical composers who, like Gershwin in his “An American in Paris,” tease the listener into thinking they are concluding the piece when they are not. Multiple conclusions destroy sermons and discourage congregations. There are other preachers who, instead of concluding, simply stop abruptly, and still others who merely fade away. Some weasel out of the sermon with a statement like, “Now, may God bless these words to each of you,” and there is a class that stumble around looking for a way out, repeating and repeating themselves until they see any sort of opening and then make a dash for it. All these problems stem from a failure to take the time to prepare conclusions ahead of time. Conclusions vary in specific purpose, but again, the purpose of the conclusion is directly related to and dictated by the telic thrust of the preaching portion. That must always be kept in mind. As I have indicated earlier, the telic statement at the head of the outline and the conclusion should match. The former should state the destination to which the preacher intends to travel, and in the latter he should have arrived and be speaking about the main thing he found when he got there. The conclusion either summarizes, applies, or implements truth, or, as in most instances, does some or all of the above. Surely it is important to preach for results—the results that the Holy Spirit intended when He caused the preaching portion to be written. It is in the conclusion that the appeal to “believe” or “go” or “do” something or other is made. Some preachers conclude weakly with a verse of poetry or a line or two from a hymn. Rarely is this effective. Someone else’s writing breaks the continuity of your message. His style—especially if it is in meter and rhyme —jars with yours. The poetic piece hardly ever says exactly what you want to say and usually is somewhat out of kilter with the telos of the passage. And, even in those rare instances in which the fit is fairly snug, most poetry is weak because it is more contemplative than persuasive. And, while we are at it, let me condemn outright the singing of a hymn following the sermon. If the conclusion has been well thought out, and has been effectively delivered, then the congregation should be left with that to think about. It is unwise to risk doing anything that might mar or dissipate the effect of the conclusion. Probably as much harm has been done to good sermons through the desultory words and ill-suited music of a concluding hymn as by any other single factor. It is weak preachers, whose sermons do not have powerful conclusions, who do something else to try to redeem the morning or evening effort, to whom these final hymns belong. Good conclusions, like good sermons, then, work toward the goal of achieving the telos of the sermon. Often, if the introduction was right to the point, the conclusion can be made in terms of the introduction itself, thus wrapping up the entire sermon in one bow: “When we began, I asked if you knew what to do if someone challenged your faith. Now ” Using a story as the conclusion to a sermon, now and then, can be effective but is difficult to pull off well. If not done properly, if the story does not do exactly what you wish it to do, if it does not have precisely the same tone and warmth that is appropriate to the mood you have established, it will detract rather than help. Until you learn all the principles of story-telling, and all that you need to know about the purposes of conclusions and how to realize them, and learn them well, it will be unwise to try to conclude a sermon with a story. For this reason, among others, you will discover that even the greatest preachers rarely use them. But Jesus did in the Sermon on the Mount. Stories are best used to concretize and to apply truth. Because they personalize truth and integrate it into life and action, they can pack an emotional wallop that drives home the telos with force. Consider the following:... So, you have learned that God provides not only the wisdom but the strength and know-how to do His will. One day a small child decided to make his daddy a birthday present. Having gathered the saw, the rasp, some sandpaper, screws, and a screwdriver together, he called, “Daddy, will you come here and show me how to begin?” Again and again, he asked for help. The patient father gladly gave instruction and offered suggestions. When the gift was completed, it was the result of a combined effort; the child made it, but he couldn’t have done so without his daddy’s help at every point. Do you think that the father received his birthday present with any less joy for knowing that without his help it could not have been made? Do you think that he thought any the less of it because the tools and materials were his? Of course he didn’t! He joyously, proudly received his son’s gift. So, too, will your heavenly Father graciously receive the works of your hands—even though you and He both know that without Him you could have done nothing. He loves to help His children; ask Him for what you need—right now, as we bow in prayer.  The simplest way of concluding a message is with a series of appeals, made either in the form of a command cluster (“Serve Him. Serve Him today. Serve Him with love; with all your heart, and soul, and strength”) or as a question cluster (Won’t you listen to the plea of your brother or sister, as Christ commands? Will you be reconciled to him or her? Won’t you forgive and seek forgiveness for your own sin, right now, at the conclusion of this sermon, or as soon as possible? Or, will you force him to resort to further steps in church discipline?”). Often, some sort of concluding implementation is useful (if not necessary):1 There may be any number of acceptable ways of putting this biblical command into action.2 If you can think of a better one that falls within the area of biblical principle, good. But if you are committed to getting started right away, as you should be, and don’t know how to begin, let me suggest one way. First,... Of course, the implementation itself, while forming the bulk of the conclusion, will be rounded off with (no more than) one or two concluding sentences. The purpose of the conclusion, then, is not merely to bring the sermon to an end. It does that. But the principal function that it serves is to capsulize and capitalize on the sermon telos. The listener goes away with the conclusion, which always calls for some change on his part, in mind. It must be powerful. Weak conclusions leave the impression, rightly or wrongly, that the whole message was weak. Because true sermons always call for change, often decision-making takes place when they are being preached, most frequently during the conclusion. A preacher must realize that this is likely to happen, acknowledge the fact, and plan for it when preparing conclusions. While a pastor certainly is not a salesman making a pitch, like a salesman he is speaking for results. Both are out to accomplish something. It would be foolish for the salesman to explain all about his product and then fail to ask the prospective customer to purchase it. That is why he “closes” or “draws the net.” Many salesmen today use unethical or questionable tactics in doing so; obviously anything even slightly bordering on this must be avoided. But after all precautions have been taken, there remains a biblical obligation to “urge,” “persuade,” “encourage,” and “authoritatively instruct” (cf. the pastoral epistles) the listener to believe and do whatever God commands. This last point leads to the heated discussion of invitations in evangelistic preaching. Class Assignments: 1. Choose five good conclusions from printed sermons representing five different approaches. Discuss the strengths of each and what you think made the particular approach used appropriate and effective in that sermon. The report should be no longer than five pages. 2. Be ready to present a conclusion of your own in class. 1. I shall have more to say about implementation later on. 2. Be careful to distinguish between the absoluteness of a divine command and the implementation of it, which, if not absolutized in the passage, must be set forth as no more than a biblically directed suggestion. 12 EVANGELISTIC INVITATIONS Earlier, I noted that preaching is of two sorts: evangelistic and edificational. Evangelism in the Scriptures is done “out there,” where the unbelieving are, not primarily in the services of the church. Of course, the gospel relates to everything else that is preached, and no sermon—even in a basically edificational setting—ever should be preached unless it is related to the good news. But that fact does not mean that in edificational preaching only (or even primarily) the gospel should be preached. In evangelistic preaching, the gospel is dominant; in edificational preaching the focus is on the implications of the gospel for the lives of believers. That this preaching of the gospel even in edificational contexts in biblical times was recognized as “standard operational procedure” is apparent from I Corinthians 14:23-25: If, then, when the whole church comes together everybody is speaking in other languages and ungifted persons or unbelievers enter the meeting, won’t they say you are crazy? But if everybody is prophesying and some unbeliever or ungifted one enters, he will be convicted by all and judged by all, the things hidden in his heart will be disclosed, and as a result falling down on his face he will worship God and declare that God is really among you. Here, clearly, the possibility of the conversion of an unbeliever in an edificational context is contemplated, and even described. But that still doesn’t stamp the Bible’s approval on turning what should be edificational preaching into evangelistic preaching, as some do. However, there are times when it is appropriate to preach evangelistic sermons. Certainly, in an advertised week of “special services” it would be appropriate to preach only the gospel (how productive these meetings will be in attracting unbelievers may vary from region to region). If the local Boy Scout troop should visit your church on “Boy Scout Sunday,” that would be a good time to preach an evangelistic sermon in a normally edificational context. And, of course, there are any number of other occasions when a pastor may “do the work of an evangelist,” not only in pastoral counseling, but in his preaching outside of the edificational service of the congregation. The question that arises is whether, in these situations, some specialized form of conclusion, incorporating an “invitation” or “altar call” is proper. First, let me say that all sorts of conclusions in evangelistic contexts (questions, commands, stories, etc.) should contain a clear restatement of the gospel and should call upon the unbeliever to trust Christ for salvation. The plain statement of the gospel will place before the unbeliever precisely what it is that he is being commanded to believe. The good news, or gospel, is set forth in unmistakable terms in I Corinthians 15:1-4): Now I want to remind you, brothers, of the good news that I announced to you, which indeed you received, in which you stand, through which also you are saved, if you hold on to the message of the good news that I announced to you (unless your faith was empty). I delivered to you as of greatest importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins, in agreement with the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day in agreement with the Scriptures,... Because there are many—even preachers—who seem fuzzy about what the good news is, note that Paul says that there are two Old Testament predictions, fulfilled in Christ, that constitute the good news: 1. His sacrificial, substitutionary, penal death; 2. His bodily resurrection from the dead. That it was this message which the early church proclaimed is demonstrated in the New Testament treatise on evangelism, the Book of Acts. From beginning to end, whenever witness is borne, personally or publicly, the death and resurrection of Christ are at the center of that proclamation (cf. 2:23, 24; 3:13-15; 4:10; 5:29-32; 10:39-41; 13:28-331). The gospel must be proclaimed in evangelism, or listeners will not know what to believe. But it must also be proclaimed properly. It must never be preached as an “add on,” or as an adjunct to what one already has said, the way that one adds a new appliance to his house. Exactly not that. The gospel is preached together with a call to repentance (metanoia = a change of mind, about God, Christ, and one’s self). The gospel isn’t added on; it comes with the impact that turns everything else inside out. All wrong thoughts about God as One who will allow sin to go unpunished, about Christ as merely a good man and a religious leader, and about one’s own worth and merit must be scrapped. Instead, the listener must acknowledge his own sin and guilt, that he stands condemned before a holy God who will punish unforgiven sinners in hell, and that Christ is the God-man who came in flesh to die in the stead of guilty sinners. By faith he must believe that Christ died for his sins and confess Him as Lord (Rom. 10:9, 10). This good news—that all who depend on Christ as Savior will be saved— must be preached to all alike; there is a free and universal offer of the gospel in which all must be called upon to believe (Acts 17:30). It is not the preacher’s task to single out some to whom he will preach the gospel while by-passing others; his task is to proclaim the Word to all. Of course, only those whose hearts the Lord opens (Acts 16:142) will believe; but it is God’s task, not ours, to determine who they are. Like Paul, we are to speak to all (v. 13). Evangelistic preaching in the New Testament, as in this case (v. 15), seems to have been followed up by an invitation—to be baptized. That pattern was set forth in Matthew 28:18-20,3 and was followed consistently throughout the Book of Acts. Consider some examples: Then those who received his message were baptized, and about three thousand persons were added that day (Acts 2:41). Note especially the words “added that day” in the passage just quoted. The baptism of those who believed took place “that day” and “added” them to the existing company of believers. Consider also Acts 8:38: Then he ordered the chariot to stop, and they both went down to the water, both Philip and the eunuch, and he baptized him. Once again the pattern holds; the Ethiopian eunuch believed, they stopped the chariot and—on the spot, at the first convenient place—he was baptized. Once more: And he took them in that very hour of the night and washed their  stripes, and all his family were baptized right away (Acts 16:33). Don’t miss the words, “in that very hour” and “right away,” in the passage. It seems to have been the regular practice of ministers of the Word to baptize persons into the company of the faithful as soon as possible. Probably our own, modem substitutes for this—raising hands, coming forward, etc.—are the result of a felt need to do something for those who believe. It seems certain that those who believed were distinguished from those who did not. There is no evidence that New Testament evangelistic preachers asked them to come forward, but there is every indication that they did invite those who believed to be baptized: And Peter said to them, “Repent and be baptized, each one of you on the basis of the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:38). And it seems that this was the way in which new converts professed their faith in Christ and came under the care and discipline of the church. At this point, let me make it absolutely clear that baptism does not save and that baptism is not a part of the gospel itself, as some erroneously affirm. Paul unmistakably distinguishes between the gospel and baptism in I Corinthians 1:17 when he writes: “Christ didn’t send me to baptize but to preach the good news.” Baptism is not a means of salvation, but a means for proclaiming openly that one has been converted and united to Christ and wishes to identify himself with His church (see my book, The Meaning and Mode of Baptism,4 for more on the subject). It seems to me that it is time that we stopped arguing over “invitations” to come forward, etc., and began working out the ways and means of following the New Testament pattern. If we became more biblical in this respect, we would solve most of the questions now being debated about “invitations.” There is another matter, often confused with “giving the invitation”: speaking to inquirers after a sermon. This matter is settled by Paul’s example in Acts 13:43: When the congregation broke up, many of the Jews and of the worshiping proselytes followed Paul and Barnabas, who spoke to them and urged them to persevere by God’s grace. To invite inquirers to remain afterwards to talk further, therefore, seems quite proper. That means that on the day when the Boy Scouts make their appearance, it certainly would not be amiss to publicly state in conclusion something like this: If any of you here has trusted Christ as your Savior during this sermon, I urge you to identify yourself following the service so that we may follow up on what you have done and help you to get started properly in your new life [a part of that follow-up would be making sure that the gospel is clear to all converts and that they are confronted with their need to profess their faith and to submit to the care and discipline of Christ’s church by baptism]. Moreover, you might invite anyone who has questions about the gospel also to remain and speak further with the pastor or elders. “Why don’t we use baptism in connection with evangelism as they did in the New Testament?” There are a number of answers to that question: tradition, eliminating denominational differences in interdenominational “campaigns,” etc. But there is one other reason: we do not receive (“add”) converts to the body by baptism “right away” because we have virtually abandoned church discipline in our churches today. We think we must “prove” converts first; after all, “What if they turn out to be unbelievers?” The New Testament exhibits no such apprehension over this possibility because there was a means of handling that contingency (cf. Matt. 18:15ff.). New Testament evangelists make it easy to get into the church “that very hour,” but they also make it mean something to stay in. We, in contrast, make it (somewhat) hard to get in, but once in the body a member usually is secure for life regardless of his beliefs or lifestyle. It is easier to remain a member of the average church today than it is to continue one’s membership in a lodge! If we exercised biblical care and discipline, we would have little or no difficulty in adopting and following the biblical pattern. The answer, then, to the question of invitations or no invitations is: “Give a biblical invitation to profess faith in Christ and be added to the number in baptism.”5 This invitation may be issued, as Peter issued it, in the evangelistic message, usually as a part of its conclusion. That the New Testament preachers gave this gospel message with a sort of urgency (“Believe now”) seems apparent not only from the Book of Hebrews, in which the recurring theme, “Today, if you hear His voice, don’t harden your hearts,” appears, but also from the policy of Paul and his companions in Acts when they turned from those who would not believe and when they issued an urgent warning: And Paul and Barnabas, speaking boldly, said, “It was necessary to speak God’s Word to you first. Since you thrust it away and don’t consider yourselves worthy of eternal life, we are turning to the Gentiles” (Acts 13:46). “So then, watch out that what the prophets spoke about doesn’t come upon you: ‘See you scoffers; wonder and perish because I will work a work in your days—a work that you simply won’t believe if somebody tells you about it’ ” (Acts 13:40, 41). Evangelistic preaching, then, issued an urgent call for action and, when it was heeded, responded immediately (“in that very hour,” “right away”). New Testament evangelists seem never to have preached the gospel in the abstract, take-it-or-leave-it fashion we sometimes encounter today. They preached with a purpose: to achieve the telos of the Holy Spirit. In evangelism, the immediate telos of any evangelistic passage is the conversion of those who will believe the gospel. Class Assignments: 1. In a paper of major length, study and discuss the New Testament evidence for baptizing converts at the end of an evangelistic sermon. Be sure to consider those biblical references which are not mentioned in this chapter. 2. Consider the practical problems that might be connected with reintroducing the biblical practice into churches today. Be prepared to discuss this in class. You may wish to write out a proposal about this that you would want to make to a congregation when you become its pastor. 1. “... this Man, delivered up by God’s predetermined foreknowledge, by the hands of lawless men, you killed by crucifixion! But God resurrected Him, releasing Him from the agonies of death, because it wasn’t possible for Him to be held by it” (Acts 2:23, 24). “... The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of our fathers, glorified His Servant Jesus, Whom you delivered over and denied in front of Pilate when he had decided to free Him. But you denied the Holy and Righteous One and asked for a murderer to be given to you. So you killed the Author of life, Whom God raised from the dead, to which fact we are witnesses” (Acts 3:13-15). “... let all of you and all of the people of Israel know that it is by the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, Whom you crucified, Whom God raised from the dead, by Him this person stands before you a well man” (Acts 4:10). “Peter and the apostles said, ‘We must obey God rather than men. Our fathers’ God raised Jesus, Whom you killed by hanging Him on a tree. God exalted this Man to a place at His right hand as a Ruler and Savior to give repentance and forgiveness of sins to Israel. And we are witnesses of these things, and so is the Holy Spirit that God gave to those who obey Him’ ” (Acts 5:29-32). “... And we are witnesses of everything that He did in the Jews’ country and in Jerusalem. They killed Him by hanging Him on a tree, but God raised Him up on the third day and had Him appear, not to all the people, but to us who were previously chosen by God to be witnesses. We ate and drank with Him after He rose from the dead” (Acts 10:39-1). “... And though they could find no grounds for His death, they asked Pilate to destroy Him. And when they had finished doing everything that was written about Him, they took Him down from the tree and laid Him in a tomb. But God raised Him from the dead, and for many days He appeared to those who came up with Him from Galilee to Jerusalem, who now are His witnesses to the people. And we announce to you the good news that what God promised to the fathers, He has fulfilled to us, their children, by raising Jesus as it is written in the second Psalm: ‘You are My Son; today I have become Your Father’ ” (Acts 13:28-33). 2. “On the Sabbath we went outside the gate to a place by a river, where we expected to find a place of prayer. And we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. A woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, who sold purple goods and was a worshiper of God, heard, and the Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what Paul said. When she and her household were baptized, she urged us this way: ‘If you have determined that I am faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my house.’ And she prevailed upon us to do so” (Acts 16:13-15). 3. “And Jesus went to them and said to them,‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me. Go, therefore, and make disciples from all nations, baptizing them into the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and remember, I will be with you always, to the close of the age’ ” (Matt. 28:18- 20). 4. Phillipsburg, N.J.: Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing Co. 5. Throughout I have been assuming that the evangelistic preaching is being done outside of a covenant context. That means that, unlike covenant children, those to whom one is preaching are not members of the visible body or under its care and discipline. 13 PURPOSEFUL PLANNING In various places in earlier chapters I have frequently referred to the idea of a study-planning-and-preparation program in which you will be able to prepare sermons six months in advance. The following article, which appeared in The Journal of Pastoral Practice 3, 3:161, and later in a book of essays on preaching, Truth Apparent, tells the whole story. I shall quote it in full: Most pastors enjoy preaching. Moreover, many thoroughly enjoy the hours of preparation spent in the study among their commentaries, etc., in the work of biblical exposition and sermon preparation. Why, then, do we hear so much dissatisfaction about preaching from preachers themselves these days? The basic dissatisfaction, about which I am speaking, is the outgrowth of another problem stemming (in turn) from still another. First, dissatisfaction comes from not “having enough time” to prepare properly. It is precisely that opportunity which pastors enjoy so much that is lacking. They want to spend more time in the study of the Word and in the preparation of messages, but other demands constantly call them away from this work. Doing half-baked study and inadequate preparation is what takes away the joy of preaching. That’s the first problem. But before going on to the second problem (from which it derives), let’s consider this matter of the lack of time a bit more thoroughly. Perhaps you are expecting me to say, “Well, if you’re too busy to find time, then you’re just too busy.” There is something to that, of course. Any number of preachers take on tasks that do not belong to them; disregarding the clear statement of their function in Ephesians 4:11, 12, they try to do the work of their people for them, in addition to all their own. That, of course, is impossible. Some pastors run a taxi service, mow lawns, operate mimeograph machines, etc., when there are any number of persons in the congregation who could (should) do these things instead. When they arrogate to themselves the tasks that others ought to do, but are not doing, they make it easy for others to shirk their responsibilities, they rob them of their blessings, and they crowd out the study of Scripture and sermon preparation. It ought to be a rule for every pastor not to do anything himself that a member of his congregation can do (or can be taught to do) as well as (or better than) he can. Of course, there will be times (in emergencies, in brand new mission churches, etc.) when a pastor must do such things, but he will not make it a practice. His work is ministering the Word, privately and publicly, in order to build up and encourage all the members of the flock to pursue their own ministries. When extraneous activities are eliminated from his schedule, he will have more time for study and sermon preparation. “But that isn’t all,” you say. Right! I know there are weeks that we’d all like to forget; and I know that they come more frequently than we’d like to think. On Monday it looks tight (especially with that special men’s meeting address on Saturday night), but everything seems to be in hand. You have selected your preaching portions for Sunday morning and evening and the prayer meeting topic, and you are about to go to work on them (preparation for Saturday night will have to wait till Thursday). You are well into your exegesis by Tuesday morning, when things begin to break loose. The phone —that two-faced blessing and curse—rings. Mrs. Green has been rushed to the hospital... it is serious... can you come immediately? You do, of course (torn at leaving the study at such a time). When you get back (three hours later), there is the afternoon’s list of activities staring you in the face. No way for you to fudge on them. So, you don’t. That means one half of a morning’s study shot. “I’ll catch up tonight,” you think, as you drive out of the yard. But that night finds you at the hospital again—Mrs. Green has taken a turn for worse; they think she may die. Somehow, she rallies, and you go home late, weary, but no further ahead in your study. Wednesday morning. Sunday sermons are set aside. Tonight’s prayer meeting must be considered. “I’ll take off this afternoon and do the study I had hoped to do yesterday. Who is that driving up to the study? Bill and Jane Wilkes. Wonder what they want?” It turns out that last night Jane threatened to leave Bill, and only at the last minute was she persuaded to stay on condition that they see the pastor right away. “Of course,” you hear yourself saying, “sit down; let’s talk about it.” Glad to help, but reluctant to give up the time, you counsel them. When you are through, an hour and a half later, your secretary informs you that this really looks like it for Mrs. Green—and that the family would like to see you (they have all gathered together at the hospital). You go (of course!). Mrs. Green dies (this means another unanticipated message for Saturday morning at the funeral). Bill and Jane take up another day or two—and so it goes (I’ll not finish out the week—it’s too discouraging to do so). I know about those kinds of weeks—and what they can do to sermon preparation and study. “Well?” you ask. “What can I do about that sort of problem? There isn’t any way that you can regulate funerals, marriages breaking up, etc., so that they fit your study schedule, is there?” Don’t be too sure! While you can’t predict emergencies, you may be able to regulate your schedule to fit emergencies in a way that doesn’t destroy your study and preparation. I am about to make a suggestion that at first you will reject—but hear me out. In one fell swoop you can solve not only the problem of weekly pressure, but a number of other problems as well. Indeed, following this suggestion can —as it did for me in my last pastorate—make preaching a pleasure. The suggestion is simple, but profound: prepare every sermon six months in advance. Now wait, don’t turn me off. Hear me out, I beg you. I want to make it clear that this is really practical—the most practical thing to do. Here are my reasons: 1. You gain plenty of lead-time that will allow you to make all the schedule adjustments that you need to meet emergencies. What you lose in time one week can be gained the next week (or even the week after). 2. You gain perspective on your text. Too many sermons are cut down green; they do not have time to ripen. 3. Illustrations come naturally. When you know well in advance what you will be preaching about, all the general reading you do, as well as the experiences you have, feed into the sermon. You don’t have to search for examples; they come to you. 4. When preaching a series of sermons on a book, you can preach the first sermon in the light of the exegesis of the entire book. Instead of discovering that what you preached in the first chapter was wrong (now that you understand it in terms of what is said later, in chapter 3), you begin to preach the book only after having studied the whole. 5. You solve the problems of an exegetical conscience. When you begin preparing a message on Monday or Tuesday before it is to be preached,  you may move along swimmingly until—in the mail Friday—you receive that new commentary you ordered, which knocks your previous understanding of the passage into the proverbial hat. Now, what do you do? There isn’t any time to adequately prepare a new sermon. Do you preach the old one, knowing it is wrong? I’m afraid many do. 6. Preachers tend to ride hobbies (Ezekiel at night, Revelation in the morning, and Daniel for prayer meeting). Planning large blocks of sermons, well in advance, requires thought about balanced feeding of the flock. You see the bigger picture. All in all, then, I think you can see the values of preparing six months in advance. “Sure, but how do I do that?” What you do is this: 1. You do the exegesis for your passage and outline it in rough form six months ahead. 2. You allow time for your thinking about it to mature, gathering illustrations, etc. 3. A couple of weeks before preaching you pull out your folder and put the sermon into final form. Of course, you can always make adjustments in unforeseen circumstances by inserting a special sermon now and then to meet these. Let me diagram the process (see next page): “OK, OK. I can see the value of this. But is it practical? Can it really be done? If so, how?” What you are now doing isn’t practical, is it? Well then, consider this. 1. The best time to make the change is when changing pastorates. Simply preach out of the barrel for six months while preparing the next six. A sermon is best preached the third or fourth time! 2. If you are in seminary, determine not to leave with less than six months’ sermons in hand. Start out right from the beginning.1 3. If you are in a pastorate, and intend to stay, but want to switch over to the new program, I suggest this: a. Dig into the barrel for your oldest, very first sermons. b. Develop six months worth of sermons from these.  c. Use each major point of these old sermons as a separate sermon in itself. (Typically, new preachers include too much in their sermons. When you preach these points separately, you will have the sermons you should have had to begin with.) I have outlined a process and procedure that can revolutionize your preaching. Don’t lay it aside lightly. I have suggested this to any number of persons. Those who have adopted it agree that they have been liberated. Preaching can be the pleasure you always wanted it to be. The Preaching Year  You divide the year (roughly) into four segments, according to some functional form (as suggested above). Then you plan two segments of the year all at one time (e.g., at the end of summer you might plan the spring and summer segments of the following year. Then you begin studying each of the messages to be preached during those segments, keeping six months ahead. That looks like this: As you can see, there are many decided advantages to following this program. Of course, someone ought to have told you years ago, but he didn’t. You must now replace present habits with new ones. That will not be easy, but I guarantee it will be worthwhile. I have now told you, and I urge you to make the change. Give it a try for one year (two six-month planning sessions) and you will never want to revert to the old ways again. The two segments ahead also can be prepared in balanced terms by using the diagram, thus: Class Assignments: 1. If you have no course to prepare you for your first six months, determine how you can plan ahead on your own (using the results of exegetical courses, etc.) and write out a proposal for yourself (to be handed in). 2. Visit with four preachers. Discuss their study-planning programs. Tell them about this one. In a brief report tell what you discovered. 1. A seminary course, designed for this purpose, would be extremely valuable to students. 14 SENSE APPEAL The immediate purpose of using sense appeal in preaching is to add the dimension of reality to truth by helping listeners to sense (experience) what you are teaching from the Scriptures. Sense stimulation in preaching enables listeners to “live” or “relive” an event or experience. There is a great difference between merely thinking about something and experiencing it. Thinking about it means there is a significant emotional distance from it; experiencing it means there is a cold chill that runs up your spine when it comes to mind. Of course, thinking is necessary to experiencing and may lead to it (a person can think himself into a panic). But, in a preaching context, many listeners on their own never experience anything unless the preacher helps them. To experience an event in preaching is to enter into that event so fully that the emotions appropriate to that event are felt, just as if one were actually going through it. When a preacher says what he relates in such a way that he stimulates one or more of the five senses, thus triggering emotion, then the listener may be said to “experience” the event. In that way, the event will become “real” to him, which means it has become concretized (or personalized), memorable, and, in the fullest sense of the word, understandable. All that I shall have to say about sense appeal in the remainder of this chapter is a two-edged sword that cuts both listener and preacher. That is because of the fundamental dynamic in preaching: in order to move others, the preacher himself must be moved. If he wishes his congregation to experience the truth, he must first experience it when studying it and then, again, when preaching it. That means he must be free enough to allow the truth to affect him as he preaches.1 The deeper purpose of sense appeal, with its arousal of emotions, lending their dimension of reality to what is said, is full—including experiential— understanding. Sense appeal, when effective, helps the members to experience the impact of truth in addition to merely thinking about it. The Scriptures, and scriptural principles, come alive for them and help motivate them to a biblical response. Without exception, every great preacher has cultivated and learned to use skillfully the power of sense appeal. For the study of the use of sense appeal by one such preacher, see my Sense Appeal in the Sermons of Charles Haddon Spurgeon (Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing Co.). Most homiletics books speak about “illustrating”2 truth and making it “vivid.” But those terms refer to communication by means of appeal to but a single sense: the sense of sight. That failure, so inherent in the very single sense vocabulary of homiletics, has led to dull, lifeless preaching. Of course, there are many dull, lifeless preachers for whom it is difficult to “paint word pictures” that appeal to the sense of sight, let alone learn to help congregations to taste, touch, smell, and even hear with the ear. Even though the preacher works in the medium of sound, few preachers, when preaching, ever make sounds, refer to sounds, or trigger the memory of sounds in the listener’s mind. These preachers are like dull textbooks rather than like lively events. If they attempt sense appeal at all, they attempt to touch the listener’s emotions through an appeal to the sense of sight alone. But if you wish to communicate biblical truth effectively, without squeezing it dry, you must learn, rather, to appeal to the full range of human senses as the Bible itself does. In no other way can you help your congregation to experience truth as the Scriptures set it forth. Fundamentally, emotions may be aroused by sense appeal through the use of 1. evocative language, 2. storytelling (sometimes called “illustrating”), 3. sound, and 4. gestures and other bodily actions. Let’s take a look at these. Evocative Words  I shall discuss style (language usage) later on, so for now we shall limit ourselves to but one aspect of style: the use of evocative (or emotion- arousing) words. And, we shall look at these solely in relationship to sense appeal. Of course, the words themselves have no evocative power; what is evocative in one context (or for one person) may not be evocative in another (or for another person). Indeed, the same word may evoke opposite responses from different people. Say the word “Bible” to an avowed atheist like Madeline Murray O’Hare and to Jerry Falwell and you will discover the difference. The word “gentile” in the context of Acts 22 was definitely a highly evocative term; used in Romans 15:16, it would have been far less so. Because of this varying evocativeness of words according to context and audience, it is impossible to list words according to their evocative character. Any word, as Benjamin Franklin observed when commenting on Whitefield’s ability to bring tears by speaking the word “Mesopotamia,” can be made evocative; similarly, any seemingly evocative term can be used non- evocatively. Everything depends on context and manner (we shall consider manner in a later chapter). The preacher, then, must be careful about his use of words that may arouse emotions when he doesn’t want them aroused or the wrong ones aroused. Again, he must be aware of what effect the occasion and the attitude of the congregation may have upon his use of words. He must learn to select a suit from among his more formal suits of words when speaking at a funeral, just as he will wear his most informal word-clothing at the young people’s weiner roast. Evocative words appeal to the senses, stir emotion, and bring about other responses. When speaking of frying bacon and eggs, one man’s choice of words will do little more than conjure up a vague image, while the words of a second will cause the listener not only to hear the bacon crackling and spitting in the pan, but virtually make his mouth water as the listener can practically sniff the aroma too! One preacher describes a scene in which people are relaxing after a hard day’s work; that’s about as far as it goes. When another does so, his congregation can “feel” their sore limbs and swollen hands as well as the glorious sensation that arises when one stretches his weary arms over his head. Look at how Proverbs 26:13-15 describes the sluggard: The sluggard says, “There’s a lion in the road! There’s a lion in the  streets!” Just listen to him make his exaggerated, full-of-holes excuses! You can almost hear his tone of voice; can’t you see his assumed expression of fear or concern? Proverbs continues: As the door turns on its hinges.... See how slowly it moves? Hear it squeak?... so does a sluggard on his bed. He’s even too lazy to turn over quickly! And now, comes this fine description: The sluggard buries his hand in the dish; it tires him to return it to his mouth.3 Can’t you see him just languishing at the breakfast table with a hand in his bowl of oatmeal, too lazy to raise it to his mouth to eat? That is evocative writing! You can “feel” the sluggard’s every motion. Proverbs is full of such material. Feel this one: As a thorn goes up into the hand.... “Ouch!” you say. But no, notice this nice twist: the hand in question is anesthetized by alcohol:... of a drunkard, so is a proverb in the mouth of fools.4 The proverb in question makes no impact because the person who speaks it is insensitive to its meaning as is a drunkard to the pain of a thorn. Make a study of Proverbs 25-28, concentrating on the evocative use of words, and you will learn a lot about how to appeal to men through all their senses. You will discover that in these chapters Solomon appeals to all five senses: e.g., 25:11,12: the sense of sight; 25:13,19: the tactile sense; 25:16: the sense of taste; 25:21: the sense of hearing; 26:11: the sense of smell. The feelings of pain, cold, heat, nausea, pleasure, anger, irritation, sorrow, frustration, weariness, fear, etc., may all be found there. And all this and more in brief, one- or two-sentence proverbs! Think how much can be done in a paragraph. The man who speaks abstractly and dully, rather than concretely and evocatively, must be spending too much time reading dull materials and too little reading the Bible. Evocative language, the language of sense appeal, is the language of the Bible. Storytelling Evocative language is useful not only in writing proverbs but also in telling stories. But stories add quite a few other factors that tend to make them even more effective in appealing to the senses. Therefore you must learn to “illustrate” your sermons (I shall use the word “storytelling” for “illustrating,” since the latter is a single-sense appeal word) as the Bible does. There are full stories (so-called illustrations and parables), abbreviated stories (examples), and mini-stories (instances; not really stories but the kernels of stories). Young and old alike respond favorably to good stories. Stories strongly appeal to the senses; they provide room for multiple-sense appeal. One reason why the common people “gladly” heard Christ was that He used so many stories; stories bridge the gap between the intellectual and the common man. Jesus used all three sorts of stories mentioned above. He told parables, gave examples (cf. the examples of the Galileans who were slaughtered and the eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell [Luke 13:1-5] and the example of Zacharias, the son of Barachias, “whom you murdered between the temple and the altar” [Matt. 23:35]), and he used instances (“Look at the birds of the sky,” “Consider the lilies of the field” [Matt. 6:26,28]). Some stories, like parables, are true stories; others are more story-like (the listener, who knew about the Galileans, the eighteen, and Zacharias, knew the story already and was expected to fill it in). References to the birds and lilies are not really stories. They are more like suggestions of stories, more like snapshots instead of movies. However, these cameo shots are highly evocative. We shall focus on the true story. The mistake that some preachers make when they discover the evocative power of a story is to tell stories and do little else. Their sermons become a string of pearls, in which a string of stories are suspended on a theme. Now each of these stories may be a natural pearl, but Christ sent us to preach His Word, not to string necklaces. When a listener leaves church, there are four things he should take away, and stories should be a means to that end:  1. A clear understanding of the meaning and telos of the preaching portion, 2. A knowledge of how God wants him to change, 3. An understanding of what he must do to effect the change, and how, and 4. An assurance that all the preacher said came from the Scriptures and therefore is authoritative. Telling stories, if that is all a preacher does, fails to accomplish these things. If stories are told, they must be told well. Few things are as disappointing as leading the congregation to think it is in for a treat by announcing a story and then botching it for them by ineptness. Stories should be rehearsed until you are convinced you can tell them effectively. If the climax depends on a punch line, write it into your outline so you can refer to it if you fear you will forget it. The best stories, like most of Christ’s parables, have to do with persons in action and/or conversation. Dialogue enhances any story. You can see how much dialogue Jesus used by consulting a modern translation of the parables in which dialogue appears within quotation marks. Consider Christ’s extensive and powerful use of dialogue in Luke 15:11-32. Indeed, at one point (vv. 18,19), as the son rehearses what he will say to his father, there are quotes within quotes. And that, notice, is in a passage where there is only one person present—a place where most preachers would never think to use dialogue. But God is fond of this approach; that is why in Psalm 14:1 the fool says within his heart, “There is no God.” Dialogue appeals to the senses. You can “hear” the son as he speaks to himself in Christ’s parable. Dialogue brings the listener into the story as an eavesdropper, and virtually turns it into a here-and-now event. Learn to use dialogue, then; freckle your stories with quotation marks. Notice too that while adjectives are used (“wild living,” “bad famine”), the appeal is made largely through the impact of the story itself; adjectives help the story along; they are not used by the narrator as a substitute for good story telling (“Now, I want you to hear a great story”). Don’t tell the listener the story is great, sad, etc.; let him draw his own conclusions. Stories, told well, need no such prefatory assistance. Weak preachers, instead, rely on adjectives rather than the story for effect and rarely achieve the effect wanted. What is the shape or format of the story? In the following diagram you will find all the basic elements of a good story. Note well, this paradigm is basic; there are variations on the theme. In this diagram there are 1. background (briefly sketched; e.g., Luke 15:11, 12), 2. a complication or problem (Luke 15:13), 3. suspense (Luke 15:14-21), 4. climax (Luke 15:22,23), and 5. conclusion (Luke 15:24). In Luke 15 there is an added story appended (vv. 25-32). Because this story itself is the epilogue and major climax of the three preceding parables, it is a special instance. Its impact depends on the background in Luke 15:1, 2 and the contrast of the epilogue with the three parables. From this, then, you can see immediately something of the wide possibilities for variety. Look back again at the diagram. It serves three functions. The diagram indicates: a. the order of events in the story, b. the length of time devoted to each, and c. the level of listener interest at each point (interest should peak at the climax). Background material begins on a normal, acceptable level of interest. The introduction of a complication raises this level of tension, and additional complications added to that create a higher and evergrowing level of suspense. Then at the peak of emotion is the climax. Quickly emotion, interest, and tension drop. That is why the conclusion must be brief, made in a forceful line or two; often the climax itself is all that is needed (remember how annoying it is to have someone explain the punch line of a joke when you got it!). But notice that the twist Christ put on the third parable, when He added the epilogue about the elder brother, once again added complication and built suspense to a climax and conclusion far more powerfully than might have been expected. Use stories, then, but use them purposefully. “What are the purposes of stories?” you ask. Here are seven: 1. to clarify truth, 2. to concretize and personalize truth, integrating principles with life today, 3. to make truth memorable, 4. to demonstrate how a principle works, 5. to back a claim, 6. to create interest, and 7. to involve the listener. All of these uses of the story are self-evident and do not need examples (abbreviated stories) to clarify them. Whenever you are tempted to use a story, be sure that it serves a purpose (don’t tell it merely “because it’s about time for another story” or merely for interest value), and be sure that you know exactly what purpose (or purposes) it serves. Frequent reference to this list (or a photocopy of it) while working on sermons will help you develop a sense of when a story is appropriate.  “How do I learn how to tell a story?” Practice. But practice outside the pulpit; and do it every day. As you drive home in the evening, instead of becoming aggravated with the traffic, rehearse a story about something that happened to tell your wife and family when you arrive. They will love it, and, as your storytelling powers increase and bleed over into your sermons, your congregations will love it too. In this practice context you can also freely experiment with sounds, gestures, and other bodily expressions of meaning to your heart’s content. All of this practice, if persisted in daily, in time (six months?) should have an appreciable effect on your preaching. All of which leads to a brief discussion of sound and of bodily action in relation to sense appeal. Sound Even though the principal medium with which preachers work is the medium of sound, they rarely use sound in evoking sense stimulation. There is a great, untapped resource here. The Greek sound ouai, translated “woe” in the New Testament (cf. Matt. 23), is more of an exclamation or groan of pain, displeasure, or anger than an actual word. This sound is interjected much the same way we use sounds like “ouch!” or “ahhh!”or “oh!” Jesus didn’t hesitate to utter such sounds; neither should we! Onomatopoetic words (“buzz,” “bang,” etc.) are sounds that have turned respectable by becoming words. Stiff professionalists rarely even use them, let alone mere groans and other sounds! Yet, these often have great appeal to the senses. Learn to use words and sounds appropriately and forcefully. The freest preachers know how to use them and do not hesitate in doing so. Listen to a good storyteller and you will hear him making all sorts of noises. Sprinkle these freely into the mix of your daily practice sessions and notice how they improve the flavor. I shall have more to say about the use of voice and body later on. But for now, here is a concluding note on the use of the body in relationship to sense appeal. Bodily Action The preacher works not only in the medium of sound but also in the medium of sight. Modern TV lingo has helped us to think of the members of our congregations not only as listeners but also as viewers. Preachers, take this to heart: you are being watched, not merely heard. A powerful way to appeal to the senses is through bodily action. Surely, gestures, facial expressions (especially in smaller congregations), bodily movement, etc., all play an important part. In description, for instance, to say, and at the same time show by means of the hand, “I was this high,” is usually effective, often much more effective than to attempt to describe height by words alone. Gestures are also used to indicate (“that one over there”) and for emphasis: “No!” as the fist strikes the podium is more emphatic than the word alone. Much more could be said about the interplay of these four factors in sense appeal, but for now what I have said should help you to make a good beginning. Class Assignments: 1. Study five other parables of Christ and report on your findings. 2. Write a paper on the use of evocative language in five proverbs, each of which appeals to a different one of the five senses. Explain exactly what is done and how the appeal is made. 1. Occasionally this will mean shedding a tear, but it should never be allowed to go so far as to make communication impossible. 2. To illustrate this, literally, “to light up” or “brighten.” 3. Berkeley version. 4. Proverbs 26:9 (Berkeley). 15 GATHERING STORYTELLING MATERIALS “But where do I go to get materials for stories? How do I think up examples and instances?” These questions are important enough to consider at some length. In one way or another, the whole world is analogous to biblical truth. Because the world is God’s world, His general revelation of Himself and His ways, whatever is in it will harmonize with His special revelation, the Bible. This is true because God is the Author of both, and He never contradicts Himself. So you don’t have to look very far for your material. Wherever you are at the moment, look around you. All the material you need for the next 10 years could be found by sitting right there—in your study, or wherever you are—if you will only fully open all your senses to it and set your mind to work on chiseling what you find there into usable shapes. “Ten years’ worth of illustrations in my study? I suppose you mean in my books?” No, without opening a single book—though there is certainly much there too. “Well, now, preaching twice a week, a couple of weeks off for vacation, that means I preach roughly a hundred sermons a year. If I preach for 10 years, that would be a thousand sermons. And if I used an average of five illustrations per sermon, that would amount to five thousand illustrations! That many illustrations in my study? You must be kidding.” No, I’m not; they are all there. In fact, you could preach from the material in your study for the rest of your life and not exhaust it. Now, I wouldn’t advise you to restrict yourself to gathering all your future material from your study, or even the next 10 years’ worth because, unless you were very careful, you’d find yourself falling into too much sameness. But a preacher who has learned the secret could do it without sameness, standing on his head (which, by the way, would give you a brand new vantage point)! However, I do suggest most strongly that you confine yourself to finding four out of the five stories you mentioned in your study for the next six months, and that you take the fifth from incidents, conversations, and events that involve people in action. The four out of five “illustrations” (as you called them) for the most part will likely have to do with simple comparisons and contrasts, relating more to things and their functions. This is the easiest way to begin. It will force you to open up your senses to all that is around you. Here is how I suggest that you go about doing it: 1. Every day, after prayer, in a notebook purchased for that purpose (or on a 3 × 5 note card if you follow my shirt-pocket filing system1), write out two stories, examples, etc., suggested by something in your study. 2. Don’t do anything else until you have them written out (don’t be concerned about how good they are). 3. If more than two occur, write them all down. 4. On Saturday, go over them and put them in good form and language. File them topically (give each a topic heading) or textually. If you don’t know which way is better, file topically and cross-reference textually. Throw out any real bummers, but keep even those that show but slight promise (on another day they might prove more fruitful). After doing this regularly for four or five months, you should find material coming your way in profusion, and the likelihood is that, on the whole, its quality will continue to improve. Now, for the next six months, write up at least two “illustrations” each day from what you find in the church auditorium. When you begin to do this, you will find that in preaching you will be able to say, “Now, take the sound of that radiator over there,...” or “Doubtless you have noticed that the aisles of this church are carpeted in red. Did you ever consider...,” etc. People will soon wonder if you are pulling them out of the air on the spot. When you are able to preach from your surroundings, as Jesus did when He spoke of the birds flying in the sky and when He said, probably with a sweep of the hand, “Consider the lilies,” you will begin to understand something of the power and effectiveness of this form of “illustration.” “Well, I can see that it would be effective to do that, but just how do I develop my senses to the point where I can see and hear such things?” By structure and practice. The structure I refer to is the six-months limitation to the study, and then to the church auditorium. Practice, practice, practice! If you patiently do so, good material in plentiful supply will begin to flow your way. Let’s see how it works. Right now, stop. Be silent, very silent. What do you hear? Make an effort to hear those sounds that you have learned to mask and ignore. Yes, there is the tick of a clock. Did someone on the other side of the building slam a door? (That doesn’t count; it wasn’t a sound originating in the study; neither is the sound of that bird call outside the window.) Ah, there’s one—the squeak of your swivel chair. “Needs oiling,” you say to yourself. Good. What else around here needs oiling? The official board? The church as a whole? The church communication system (and I don’t mean the grapevine)? How about your prayer life? Will you be preaching to a congregation of squeaky, rusty Christians this Sunday? Keep on listening. “Hey! Listen to my felt tip pen scratching on the margin of this book as I make a note.” Good, you’re beginning to hear again. Think for a moment; what could that sound represent? The rapidity or slow deliberateness with which life is spelled out? No, that’s not so good—you think about it and see what you can come up with.2 Now, let’s touch some things. Rub your hand on the window pane. Cold? Is there something in that? Sure, but it may not occur to you at once.3 Stay with it—say, there you are: my greasy fingers smudged the window and left a mark. And they didn’t even seem greasy to me! Hmmmm... I’ve got it: that is the average Joe who smears life up by sinful ways he doesn’t even recognize. He can see them only when He looks at life through God’s window pane, the Bible. That’s got promise; but it’ll need plenty of shaping up on Saturday. Now, run your fingers over the concrete block wall. Rough? Right. But also solid, sturdy, and tough. Like what? I don’t know. What do you think? Next, try smelling. “Smelling?” Smelling. You may look foolish as you go around smelling things all over your study, but go ahead anyway; there isn’t anyone looking. Smell the ink of a freshly printed book. It is as pleasant, unpleasant as a (you fill in the blank). Smell the odor of heated dust on your lamp’s glowing light bulb. Smell your hands; some faint trace of breakfast there? Or the slight aroma of the soap with which you washed them? What do you smell? And, what is it like? Once again, start tasting. Taste a finger. Salty? Taste a piece of paper or chalk; flat? Taste some dust from the aspirins in that bottle in your desk; bitter? Something there about bitter pills? Perhaps. And, of course, look. I saved this till the last, since this is most likely what you would have started with. But that is so easy, and there is so much to see, you might never have gotten to the other four senses. Look around you, not just at objects, but at their parts. See what I mean? When you begin to search for materials found among people around you who are doing and saying things, you may wish to carry 3 × 5 cards on which to jot down notes. Don’t search for only what is unusual or sensational. Settle for the common and ordinary. See, hear, smell, etc., in the ordinary circumstance more than you ever have before, just as you have been learning to do in your study. What can you discover in that tired, worn mother over there trying to still her crying baby? It thinks only of itself; she thinks only of it. How like Christ’s love. How about that battered up old truck rumbling down the street? My, what stories those dents could tell! Why not imagine what some of them are? Listen to that man cough as he lights up his cigarette and takes the first puff; something’s there, isn’t it? Open your senses, open them widely to the world around you. Breathe it in with every breath, then put your mind in gear and think about what you have taken in. Saturday, remember, is revision day. Take an hour and go over what you have done. You’ll want to junk some (less and less as time goes on) and completely rewrite others. In the rewriting, two things will happen: 1. You will want to put your material into better form (work especially on arrangement and language). 2. You will want to make some entirely new uses, or applications, of some of your material. New analogies may occur. You may not like to do this sort of work. You may think that the great preachers never had to do any of it. You are wrong. They did. Each, in his own way, worked tirelessly to discipline his senses and his mind to produce. When such a preacher now seems to shake dozens of stories and examples out of his sleeve like a magician, remember, there was a time when he found it every bit as difficult as you do to produce “illustrations.” If you want to be able to do what he does some day, then right now you must also do what he did yesterday: practice, practice, practice. Good preaching, like anything else good, is hard work. But there are few things more rewarding than learning how to preach well. “What about materials in books, magazines, and newspapers? Should I use these?” Sure, so long as you make your own use of them. And be sure to use all sources fairly: cite references, give credit. But avoid books of illustrations and examples and stories in other men’s sermons. Using these will make you lazy and dependent; you will never develop your own power of illustrating. Find your own material. What is truly yours will sound like it; much of what isn’t will sound like it too! Other preachers’ materials also will often be stale. Now, let me mention what I have called the jelling factor. In time, you will discover that you have developed a certain ability to manufacture story material on the spot, while preaching. In Pulpit Speech I described the phenomenon this way: There is also the possibility in extemporaneous speaking for the use of on-the-spot insights, or for the operation of what I prefer to call the jelling factor. Every good extemporaneous preacher, after preaching, has written into his outline thoughts which occurred to him while he was preaching and which he used on the spot. They just seemed to jell in a way in which they would not jell in the study. Jelling, I must hasten to say, is the result of good preparation, and not a replacement for it. The jelling factor is the fruit or culmination of careful preparation and long thought prior to the delivery of the sermon. During the full concentration due to the tension of the preaching experience, at the moment of delivery certain ideas jell. Jelling gives a spontaneity and