Worship and sermon preparation by Phil Hoar

It was one of those almost throw-away remarks, made by an ecumenical colleague in a hospital chaplaincy team, which made me think. I’d mentioned I was struggling with the Sunday lectionary readings. The speaker, a very down to earth Catholic sister, commented, “Well, just remember that you need twenty minutes of prayer for every one minute of your homily, and you should be all right!”

By inclination or training, my preparation for a sermon had tended to start with a read through of the Bible passage (first impressions) and then quite a lot of time with the commentaries. I still find the Bible fascinating and am in awe of scholarly insights and research. There followed the making links with the here-and-now, the context in which I found myself leading worship. It’s always exciting when there’s a spark between the “then” and “now” terminals. What my colleague’s remark gave me the courage to do was to know when, for a while, to set aside all the notes and the head preparation (important as they are), and allow the passage to speak more personally to my heart as well as my head. Something “deeper” emerges, at least in a good week(!), but it takes time and a change of gear.

I’m probably making my preparation sound more organised and linear – and leisurely – than it actually is – witness the growing number of scribbled notes on a sheet of A4 in the preceding days – and I’m aware the text books now talk of a variety of ways of reading Scripture. I’m also aware that life and discipleship is more than preaching. However, I warm to some words of Sangster: “The studied elegance and patterned mosaic of other men’s (sic) thoughts seem fiddling while Rome burns beside the word of one who comes straight from the Audience Chamber with an urgent message wrought out in him while he wrestled with God as Jacob wrestled at Penuel.”

Sermons mysteriously seem to emerge through something which feels quite vulnerable. No more hiding behind other people’s thoughts. Grace and truth are given through personality and something like a personal encounter through Scripture. I think congregations can tell the difference between “knowledgeable” and a humble, heartfelt “I know”. As somebody has commented , the praying bit sometimes feels like the savouring of a love letter from God, and sometimes like a wrestling match, where God wants to fit our agenda into God’s, and not the other way round. And sometimes the wrestling is in the dark.

I think it’s also what our sisters and brothers in worship also need. Ken Leech writes, “A contemplative church will help lead people away from a religion of easy answers, from false certainties, the idolatry of consumer spirituality and the temptation to fundamentalism of all kinds.”  You could almost replace the words “contemplative church” with “prayerful preacher and worship leader.” In fact I find the sermon ‘spills over’ into the rest of the shaping and atmosphere of worship, the hymns and congregational prayers, and the opportunities for silence -  so the word can become flesh in the next person.

But honesty compels me to say that there is no guarantee. This is not “justification by praying.”  Sometimes a few hasty thoughts cobbled together in a rush really touch someone. And sometimes all the prayerful preparation falls on (apparently) deaf ears. Indeed do any of us ever really feel ready? It’s all in God’s hands and we touch the hem of God’s garment.

Let me suggest a couple of ways of praying with Scripture we often invite people to try out on Methodist Retreat and Spirituality Network weekends and workshops. In both it’s helpful to find ways of becoming more still and receptive to what God might want to give you. Finding the right place and time is important. So is taking some deep breaths, consciously relaxing the body with all its tensions and sometimes clearing the mind of all the pressures (maybe by writing a couple of pages of what is in your head before you start). Most important is offering a period of time (say, twenty minutes?) to God and sticking to it, trusting that God will use our offering, and asking the Holy Spirit to guide us.

You might like to read over that paragraph again and check out that list. It’s easy to miss out, say, asking for God’s help or taking time to wind down a little.

Lectio divina (holy reading)
This is an ancient way of reading Scripture. It’s often associated with the Benedictine tradition and you may have had the experience of being at a silent monastery lunch, where the brothers chew over the words of a reading as they chew over their food!

Having made the preparations above, take a short passage and read it over slowly. There’s no need to rush. You’re not cramming for an exam. Read it over several times and see if any word or phrase strikes you.

Then put aside the Bible. Stay with the word or phrase, perhaps repeating it over to yourself silently. Let the word become part of you, sinking from the head into your heart, and let it nourish you just as food does (without your necessarily knowing how!)  Sometimes you will make connections with other bits of Scripture or the word will prompt a set of memories or feelings. Sometimes you will simply use the word as a gateway for God to enter. When your mind wanders too far away, gently come back to the phrase or word.

On another day, because you will be in a different place, the same passage may give you another word. Or you may want to chew the previous word over some more. But think of the word being like a boiled sweet – suck it and see – rather than a plate of spaghetti to dispose of!

You could of course spend time too with a phrase which strikes you from a commentary or a hymn.

Remember to offer in prayer to God all your thoughts, feelings, blocks and insights – with thanksgiving or penitence or protest or intercession. Be honest!

And how about shrinking the business agenda at the local preachers and worship leaders meeting and trying this as a group exercise, with someone reading and a period of quiet, then perhaps some personal sharing (not discussion)?

Entering into the story
This way of praying – often associated with Ignatian spirituality – builds on a familiar experience of those times when we become absorbed in a soap opera or a play, or captivated by a picture. We may feel “different” in some way afterwards. We offer God our imagination for him to guide.

After the preparations (above) you take a gospel story. You want to enter into it, perhaps picturing details like the sky, the sunshine, the sand beneath the feet, the vegetation, the animals. You may want to talk to the characters, to imagine what it must be like to be in their sandals, to picture their inner thoughts, feelings, reactions.
You may indeed want to be one of the characters, even Jesus. Try and step into the story and become a part of it. See where it leads you.

This may take a bit of practice!  Some people, in my experience, take to this like a duck to water; some are stronger on some senses than others; some find it easier in a guided group.

But sometimes you get an insight into the story – and yourself – that you would not get simply by thinking and studying. Contemplative imagination – as it is sometimes known – can reach the parts other prayers don’t!

At the end of say twenty minutes – and stick to it even if nothing appears to be happening much – look back over the prayer time. Was it easy or difficult? Did anything strike you or make you hesitant? Did you get a sense of Jesus? Did the story take off in some way you never imagined (and which may be different from the recorded story)?  Notice your feelings as well as your thoughts? And be prepared to return to the story a second or third time.

Offer the time and anything which comes to mind in prayer.

Again you could try this exercise in a preachers’ and worship leaders’ meeting.

Phil Hoar is a Methodist minister in the Bloxwich and Willenhall Circuit