In Praise of Small Preaching
In the world of sports, the marginal gains theory has received widespread acceptance. The doctrine of marginal gains suggests that once a baseline of performance is established, additional gains become increasingly difficult to accomplish. However, by making tiny improvements across multiple areas, the cumulative gains have an exponential effect.
The marginal gains approach began in professional cycling, where British Cycling director Sir David Brailsford became relentlessly committed to one percent improvement in every possible area—slightly more aerodynamic bikes, a bit less dust in mechanics’ workspace, higher-rated antibacterial soap for handwashing. Similarly, Hall of Fame basketball player Larry Bird used to devote each offseason to mastering one new offensive move; after 13 seasons, he had a vast repertoire of scoring techniques. And it’s not just sports: Comedian Jerry Seinfeld has described working on a joke for an hour just to shorten the punchline by a single word.
““Everyone knows that Custer died at Little Bighorn. What this book presupposes is… Maybe he didn’t?” ”
The same is true for better preaching, suggests my ultra-distinguished theologian friend, Jonathan Pennington. He recently published a new book, Small Preaching: 25 Little Things You Can Do Now to Become a Better Preacher, where he acknowledges that we don’t think highly enough of small changes. We’re accustomed to thinking bigger is better, and in terms of preaching, we might think we need a radical overhaul of our communication strategies and platforms. But Pennington’s suggestion is refreshing: What if instead we focused on taking small steps in the same direction over time?
In other words, everyone knows that ‘bigger is better’ in preaching. What this book presupposes is… Maybe it doesn’t?
Let me share a few gold bars from Dr Pennington’s Small Preaching.
On Praise and Criticism
Preaching is a performance, Pennington explains, in the broad sense that it is the public demonstration of a difficult skill. As a result, we preachers frequently receive both praise and criticism. Both need to be received carefully and humbly.
“There is no place where humility is needed more or where its purity is tested further than in the smelting fire of criticism. So when you face criticism, welcome it with humility as a guest and a gift… Pressing further, use it as a window into your own soul’s health: ‘Why does this particular criticism upset me?’ Humility tills the soil of your soul, and criticism can be the manure that fertilizes robust growth” (15-16).
On Preaching vs. Teaching
Many preachers in our Reformed tradition arrive in their pulpits with bachelor’s and master’s degrees, and maybe even a doctoral degree. We’ve studied for years, and we’re excited to share what we have discovered. Further, our tradition praises deep exegesis and articulate communication. As a result, though, our sermons can be too long, too academic, and can contain too many uses of “too” in a sentence.
Now, few preachers can match Pennington’s theological prowess. His course on the Sermon on the Mount at Southern Seminary was revolutionary for me, and each of his books are packed with critical insight. So, what does he recommend to thoughtful and longwinded preachers?
“Preach shorter sermons and teach in other venues… Preaching [is] the invitational and exhortational proclamation of biblical and theological truth. Teaching, by contrast, is the explanation and explication of biblical and theological truth… Sermons can be meaty and deep in theological and biblical content—as long as he keeps the mode and ultimate goal in mind when he is writing and delivering his messages. Preaching exhorts and invites” (29-32).
If you (and some of your people) long to dive more deeply into the deep things of God and his word, consider creating additional spaces for teaching and study, but let the pulpit remain the place for everyone’s encouragement and growth.
On Discouragement in Sermon Prep
If you are a preacher, then, most likely, you know what it’s like to reach the point of discouragement in your sermon preparation. For me, it happens every week. Sometimes it happens on Thursday morning, sometimes on Saturday evening, and occasionally even on Sunday morning at 10:00am. “This Sermon Stinks” is Pennington’s phrase for it. “This Sermon Stinks” (or TSS, for short) is part of the creative process.
“Don’t resent the weekly TSS journey. The painful up-down-up of the process is necessary hot fire that refines the impure mixed metal of your ideas into pure silver that can be crafted into a fine setting for the gospel diamond… Expect and embrace the process. Count it as the price you must pay to be used by God, the deep and secret gift you give to your congregation each week” (63-65).
On the First and Final Minutes
Alright, this is probably the best advice in the book. Pennington notes that the average viewer decides whether to watch an entire YouTube video within the first few seconds. In the same way:
“That first minute of your sermon is absolutely crucial to your homiletical effectiveness… Eliminate distractions… [Don’t] start by talking about anything other than your sermon… Write out or memorize or nearly memorize your opening paragraphs. Your first words are vitally important, so craft them well and know them so you can be present and engage by looking at them. And smile” (70-72).
Similarly, the final minute of the sermon is when the plane lands and where the magic happens.
“All preachers should be thoughtful, planned, and intentional with how they will spend the precious currency of their last minute of the sermon… Don’t fly around with your sermon until you run out of gas and then crash… Remember that every sermon is a story, and so the ending should be as crafted and intentional as the beginning… Go for the heart… Write out what you are going to say, paying attention to the content, shape, and quality of your words… The last minute is the best place to implant [the big idea] in their hearts and minds” (74-77).
Final Words
Personally, this book comes at a great time for me. Although I preached about 75 sermons (a total of 200 times) and taught hundreds of classes and small groups in my first ten years of ministry, I only began preaching weekly about three years ago. I now preach about 35 Sundays annually, which means I’m still well short of finding my voice. (That takes, what, 500 sermons? Or 10,000 hours? Either way, it’s going to be a while.)
That’s why this book is so helpful. It doesn’t contain everything I need to understand about preaching—but I’ve already read that book. In this stage of the race, I need a coach to come alongside me with some hard-earned wisdom.
In all, Small Preaching is like two ounces of Weller 12 bourbon—it’s strong, to the point, and causes a bit of heartburn.
Of course, no one could put all 25 of these tips into practice at once. Pennington recommends taking the long view of preaching. Instead of trying to become great overnight, Small Preaching proposes “a vision for taking a long-arc view of preaching, a layer-by-layer, slow approach to your life as a preacher” (34).
Marginal gains. The long-arc view. Sunday after Sunday. This is the attainable wisdom of Small Preaching.
Jeremy Linneman is lead pastor of Trinity Community Church, a church he planted in Columbia, Missouri. Prior to planting Trinity, he was a staff pastor of Sojourn Community Church in Louisville, Kentucky, for seven years. He is author of Life-Giving Groups: “How-To” Grow Healthy, Multiplying Community Groups. Jeremy and his wife, Jessie, have three sons and spend most of their free time outdoors.
