On Writing Weekly Sermons

“One of the things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.” ― Annie Dillard, The Writing Life


When my husband and I used to run trails, I had a really hard time pacing myself. Somewhere in the middle, when I had no idea how far we had come or how far we had yet to go, I'd just give up and start walking, just praying to live long enough to see the end of the trail. But then when we got to the last stretch, I would find that I had enough energy to sprint to the end. I guess maybe I could have used one of those fancy watches that tracks distance and pace and all that good stuff, but I didn't have one, and I was too timid to go all out. I always held back.

I just started reading Sarah Bessey's book, Out of Sorts. I'm only on page 17, but it is a whirlwind. I don't know how she can keep up this pace!

I've been thinking about Annie Dillard's words on writing for the past few weeks. Every week I write a sermon, and sometimes I accept a final draft that is not what I want it to be. Sometimes I fear that if I say everything, then I won't have anything to say the next week, and so I'm tempted to hold back.

"But the weeks are relentless," I tell myself. Every Sunday is followed immediately by another Monday, another new text, another week spent composing words that will somehow bear witness to the Good News. The Best News. But God's faithfulness is also relentless. His mercies are new every morning. Next week, there will be more to say.

"Next week will be better," I tell myself. Well, yes, sometimes next week is better. And sometimes the sermons that I feel really good about are the flops, and the ones I think aren't so great are the ones that really speak to someone. I'm not called to be great; I'm called to be faithful, to spend it all every week, to give it everything I've got.

I've been preaching through the book of Hebrews for the past few weeks, and in my study, I learned that Hebrews is unique in the way that the author introduces Old Testament quotations. Rather than references to the past in the form of "It is written," or "The prophet said," quotations are introduced in the present, as in, "God says..." The focus on the present brings these familiar words from Israel's history out of their historical setting and into the church today. God is still speaking. Today.

And as long as it is called "Today," God will keep speaking. (Hebrews says that too.)

Reading Sarah Bessey's book gives me hope. We'll see if she can keep up this pace, but I have a feeling that she has a lot of really good stuff to say. If she can come up with a whole book worth of good stuff, maybe I can come up with one more week's worth.

And for me, I need to gather up my courage and run a little faster and harder. I keep looking for some kind of finish line: when my husband will be able to start preaching more, when my kids will both be in daycare part-time or even school, when I'll have enough experience under my belt that some of this comes a little more easily. Yes, those days will come, but in the meantime, I need to take a page out of Annie Dillard and Sarah Bessey and give everything that I have now. I don't want to look back on things that I didn't say. I don't want to regret holding back. I want to give everything I have to this Sunday, to this sermon, to this church, in this season. As long as it's called Today, God is still speaking to His people, and it's my job to listen carefully.

Spend it all every time. The well will not run dry.

I could also learn from this kid. He doesn't hold anything back!