I’m reading one of the most interesting books I’ve encountered in a long while. It is called The Emperor of Maladies[i], and it is essentially a biography of cancer. Though written by a doctor, Siddhartha Mukherjee, the book is surprisingly accessible and very engaging. It traces the history of the disease, as well as the progress of various treatments, especially over the last century.
In one particular section, the author is describing the development and emergence of surgery, and specifically the surgeon as an important medical practitioner. One paragraph jumped out at me, and spoke to me about something virtually unrelated to medicine. It said:
“In the 1870’s…surgery was a discipline emerging from its adolescence. By 1898, it had transformed into a profession booming with self-confidence, a discipline so swooningly self-impressed with its technical abilities that great surgeons unabashedly imagined themselves as showmen. The operating room was called an operating theater, and surgery was an elaborate performance often watched by a tense, hushed audience of observers from an oculus above the theater.”
When I read that line: “…surgeons unabashedly imagined themselves as showmen…,” I thought to myself, “I know preachers like that.” To be truthful (to my shame), there have been times when I have approached preaching in that way.
I love preaching. I love every aspect of it, from the creative process in the study, to the act of preaching itself. I strive to be the most effective preacher that I can be. I want people to listen, and I want to hold their attention whenever I “herald” the Word of God.
Yet, I must always be mindful that the pulpit is no place for a showman. The task of the preacher is not to “show off” his oratory skills, or impress the audience with his own gifts and abilities. In reality, the preacher has the strange and difficult task of holding the attention of the hearers, even while disappearing himself behind the text of the Word of God. In other words, I need and want the people to see me and hear me, but I also want them to forget about me, and see and hear the truth that transcends me.
If people leave after hearing the sermon, and all they heard was a great preacher, then the great preacher has failed in his ultimate task. When the people hear the preacher, but leave impressed and impacted by the fact that Jesus has spoken; that is when the preacher has done his job well.
