Only As Good As Last Sunday

When Sermons Become the Measurement of a Pastor’s Value

You’re only as good as your last sermon.

It’s the voice in your head going off at two in the morning, unable to reach the snooze button on a Sunday as you rehearse the inevitable book report. Last week the jokes were landing, the points were sticking, and the visitors were smiling. The passage was ripe with application as you plucked the spiritual succulence of low hanging fruit off the Bible’s Greatest Hits tribute album.

It’s been like chiseling granite with a toothpick this week. Scouring for crumbs off commentary floors in preparation for Sunday’s feast results in conjuring up a recipe for toast. Last week was a home run and now you’re just hoping to get on base with a bunt.

This is what life feels like when you’re preaching to score cards. You live in a world where batting a thousand feels like the only option as pressure mounts to hit the ball further. Anything less and you’re disappointing everyone who gave of their time and tithes to come and warm a pew. Better bring your ‘A’ game. Last week’s message was culinary perfection. What’s this week’s special? Hopefully they like granite soufflé.

It came in your inbox two months ago, veiled in a compliment, praising you for how much better your messages are now compared to what they used to be. They’re finally enjoying coming to church again and glow in the nostalgia of glory days gone by. Keep it up pastor! They write while waiving their banners and run with streamers. Their skin leathered from basking in the setting sun of yesteryear. Coaxing air from an empty ‘Brownsville’ tank, they’re banking on you for another refill.

They’re bringing their friend because last week was off the charts and church finally feels safe again. Your message was the breath of fresh air this dusty sarcophagus of a church has been gasping for. Finally they feel like they can invite someone without taking them on a tour to the Museum of the Bible. The music finally discovered the 21st century and the moratorium on electric guitars has finally been lifted. Messages have felt like you don’t need a Bible thesaurus to understand them and Bible stories are presented as though real people were in them. You’re bringing the fire, please don’t say anything too preachy, no pressure. Keep the shofar in its case.

Nothing. So far that’s been the title of this week’s message. Maybe just do a series playing everyone’s favorite YouTube preachers. You get the shorts sent to you all week anyway. How do you compete with that?! Mentos and Diet Coke. If you’re not on your game, there’s always YouTube.

“I’m just not getting fed here.”

One of the all time greatest hits for leaving a church. It’s a classic that never goes out of style. You can show them your notes with all the Bible references and commentary sources all you want. You have flicked that spiritual spoon in every direction, in front of mouths that refuse to open. You get caught up in a vicious cycle of appeasing a crowd you’ll never please, intent on continuing their hunger strike.

”Just preach the Word!”, as their mouths gape open during nap time every time you do. Enough with the jokes and practical application. The laughing keeps them awake.

Notepads don’t write themselves and Sunday isn’t taking a break. Why does it feel like you’re always one sermon away from losing an entire row? For those who pastor small churches, that’s a real possibility. An entire row gone, because you didn’t take a stronger stance on the ‘hot-potato’ political topic of the day.

You’re only as good as last Sunday.

Is that what it’s come to? What about being deeply rooted in the local church, tightly knit with a body of believers, co-laborers and heirs to the kingdom? Is it really dependent on your preferences of preaching styles? Has it become that easy to hop around to the flavor-of-the-month church when the sugar coating has worn off the one you attend now? Where’s the depth of faith when your ears aren’t being tickled every week?

We place expectations on humans to deliver what we never could if placed in the same role. Our lack of perfection is lived vicariously through the person standing on stage so we have someone else to blame when our spiritual lives stale.

Serve the weekly shot of dopamine in the preferred flavor and get a score to make it through the week. Riding these waves of approval leave us staring at blank notepads on deserted beaches.

It’s a mirror the American church as a whole should gaze into. On one hand we criticize the performance culture on display weekly while ignoring the glaring stain of unbiblical expectations many have espoused. We grew up applauding a stage and it bled into our pews with us gladly paying for the tickets. It’s not that pastors aren’t preaching the Bible, it’s that we’re trying to do it better than last week. It’s a rush until the adrenaline runs out.

Oh God give us fresh fire. We’re tired of serving up candy and playing not to lose. Give us boldness to speak Your word with passion. Playing to preference to preempt empty seats is shredding sails trying to catch the Spirits wind. We need revelation not presentation. Transform us as the pressure mounts to conform to the fad of the day. Give us a passion to speak on the hard things with love. We’re tired of greasing the squeaky wheels of what once was to quench the kudos of the moment. We’re done bending the knee to consumerism.

My value isn’t found in last Sunday, it’s found in you Jesus. Here I am.

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Thank you for taking the time to read. Pastor, if you’re reading this, thank you for serving in a local church. We need you. Your church needs you. Stand strong and hold fast.

One of the biggest blessings I ever received was realizing my identity wasn’t found in my title. For so long my name had the word ‘Pastor’ in front of it, and when it disappeared, I didn’t know what to do. Jesus set me free of that bondage.

Simply enjoy being a child of God today.