Beyond inspiration



I have a budding conviction about preaching. My conviction is that the goal of preaching is not inspiration; the role of the sermon is not to inspire those listening.

(There’s a chance people from my congregation may think, “That explains a lot.”)

In our current cultural climate, inspiration seems to have become a vocational cliché. Everyone wants to inspire everyone else. Inspiration has become the ideal justification for seeking fame, success and visibility. So often, even victory speeches turn into attempts at inspiration.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying inspiration is negative or immoral, though that depends on the goal of the inspiration. But I don’t think we have to pull back many layers of the onion to learn that the way our culture uses the term “inspiration” is just an exciting way of saying “enthusiastic motivation.”

It’s a far cry from the rich etymology of the English word, having literally to do with “breathing in.” Instead, it seems to be one of the favourite buzzwords in corporate America. The subtitle of the book The Inspiration Code clarifies that popular meaning further: “How the best leaders energize people every day.” Inspiration has become strategic incentivization.

I’m guessing all the motivational speeches, TED Talks and victory speeches exert a kind of pressure on preachers to produce sermons that inspire in similar ways. But I don’t consider myself a speaker giving a speech. I’m certainly not a business executive trying to get my employees to work harder and longer. I hope my sermons are not consumed like an energy drink, providing a quick, easy and fleeting dose of spiritual energy.

It might sound like hubris, but I am convinced that the words of a sermon should carry a greater responsibility than to temporarily fill up the inspira- tional tank. After all, they are words intended to mingle with eternity, to witness to the truth, to expound upon the word of God.

A beloved theology professor of mine used to say, “You will be judged for the words you say.” That was a terrifying notion indeed. But it pointed to the holy responsibility of speaking words that have at least something to do with God and speaking this to the gathering of Christ’s church.

Obviously this isn’t the place to go into depth on what a sermon should be. I’m hardly qualified to do that anyway. But I’m pretty convinced the sermon should move in ways that aren’t only about temporarily inspiring our wills.

If our sermons do participate in God’s work, they should probably have far more to do with confronting our egos and the surrender of our wills. Perhaps the beautiful Anabaptist concept of gelassenheit (yieldedness to God’s will) is a better kind of energy than inspiration. After all, the main thrust of the preaching of both Jesus and John the Baptist was repentance—a kind of encounter with the truth of who we are and have been—in order to step into a new day without our illusions of control and self-importance. Of course, it is discovering ourselves loved and forgiven by God that helps to make space for this kind of repentance.

This seems different to me—and better—than inspiring. Perhaps this is partly semantics or misdiagnosis on my part, but I don’t think it’s a waste of effort to keep an eye out for ways that our worship and preaching may be cheapened by various cultural currents.

Caleb Kowalko is pastor at Calgary First Mennonite Church.



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