In addition to listening to my sermon recordings, I would review my preaching, trying to critique myself. I would think of comments I received after the sermon and especially more substantial responses that came through letters or emails. I would try to receive criticisms of my preaching with grace, asking the Lord what I needed to learn from things I'd rather not hear. If I was really brave, I'd ask my wife what she thought of my sermon. She was always kind, but also blunt. More than any other person, she helped me to become a better preacher.
In retrospect, I wish I had made an effort to get input from others. These folks could have been mature members of my church, or they could have been pastoral colleagues who listened to my sermon recordings. I did not seek out this sort of help, quite honestly, because of I didn't want to bother people and because I was afraid of what they might say.
Nevertheless, I'm quite sure that my conscious, week-in and week-out effort to become a better preacher did bear fruit. I learned how to preach God's truth more clearly and pointedly. I gained courage to exhort and even to admonish, actions that do not come naturally to me. I learned to avoid academic flourishes that served largely to impress and to tell stories in a way that touched the heart even as they underscored my point.
I have no idea how many preachers use the Groundhog Day repetition of weekly preaching to become better preachers. I know many who go to communication seminars or listen to tapes of their favorite preachers. Some even do continuing ed classes in preaching or seek D.Min. degrees that focus on preaching. All of this is great, reflecting the laudable desire of preachers to become better at this crucial aspect of ministry. But, on Groundhog Day, I want to encourage preachers to think of how they might use the routine of weekly preaching to become better at their craft, much in the way Phil Connors used his repeated experiences of February 2 to become a better human being.
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In