On Preaching: The Joy of Intentional Collaborative Preaching
Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. —Philippians 2:3–4 (NIV)
Have you ever heard a technically beautiful sermon that impacted you more like a distant performance than an act of worship? An even better question: have you ever preached a sermon that felt that way to you? If I were in the room with you right now, I would have just raised my hand twice.
Many of us have embarked upon a strenuous process of becoming scholar preachers to stand behind the sacred desk. As a result, I have noticed that many of us preacher types can be pretty territorial of the sermonic moment. I am deeply moved by the privilege of sharing the gospel, and I understand the zeal and longing for faithfulness that can prompt pastors and leaders to safeguard the pulpit for the well-being of the congregation. And as someone who deeply appreciates the Reformed tradition, I celebrate that as pastoral leaders we “are responsible for studying, teaching, and preaching the Word, for celebrating Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, and for praying with and for the congregation,” as we read in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)’s Directory for Worship (G-2.0504).
The Directory for Worship makes it clear that preaching is a kind of bearing witness that demands meticulous insight in interpreting Scripture, listening for the voice of God through daily prayer, reflecting theologically on the gospel’s message, being attuned to the congregation’s context, discerning the Spirit’s guidance to the church, staying informed about local and global events, and maintaining steadfast, personal obedience to Jesus Christ (W-3.0301). And yet, I often wonder if we leave the joy found in countercultural collaboration and communal scriptural exploration on the sanctuary cutting room floor when we seek these tasks as isolated individuals sitting at our office desks. Could it be that we lose a sense of fresh discernment by defaulting to sermons as holy monologues, exegetical papers, or vehicles for sweet stories? We allot a third of the precious worship hour(s) we have to the preaching moment. Do we miss the precious opportunity to consider ourselves a body of actual bodies worshiping during this time in the service?
In a post-pandemic world, I sense a renewed invitation to co-create healing moments in worship that witness to the reality that we truly need each other in real time and space. None of us are replaceable, and despite the division and conflict that arises in the church and the world, the church can and should display the power of holy interconnectedness with each other as we proclaim the God who calls us all beloved. Consider if, as pastors and preachers, our dedication to profound study and reflection persisted while we also acknowledge the embodied nature of preaching, creating immediate pathways for the worshiping community to join in the proclamation of the good news. Jesus calls and empowers us to enact healing in the world where we are present in our embodied state. What if our preaching reflected this approach to proclamation in the very form of the sermon?
The smell of Play Doh.
The sight of smiles.
The sound of giggles.
The feeling of joy.
When I recall a time that radiated the beauty of collaborative proclamation of the word, I remember a four-week, lectionary-based worship series I led in a traditional worship setting. The grounding image for the sermon came from Jeremiah 18:
The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Come, go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him (Jer. 18:1–4).
Embodying the vivid metaphor of God as the divine potter and believers as the clay, I decided to invite church participants to work with Play Doh during the sermon as an incarnational theological witnessing. This tactile activity allowed participants to reflect upon ideas of transformation and renewal. As they shaped and molded the clay, they contemplated their own spiritual formation, recognizing how God works in their lives to shape their character and purpose. This interactive approach engaged body and spirit as it deepened their understanding of the Jeremiah text, illustrating themes of repentance, divine patience, and the ongoing process of becoming vessels of honor through God’s guidance and grace. Through participatory reflection like this, the church community not only connects with the ancient text but also experiences a tangible manifestation of its profound spiritual truths.
In this particular series of worship services, a progression of invitations to the congregation welcomed them into the preaching moment. Even before I introduced the image of the potter’s house, I moved through the verbs in the text with the congregation, noting the directionality in the divine imperatives, “Come, go down,” and the immediate, vulnerable, embodied response of Jeremiah, “So I went down.” There is a divine invitation to join in, as part of a community, with a sense of prophetic imagination that requires vulnerability and openness to the unexpected.
I offered simple questions about the smell of Play Doh and the memories it produced, watched as all in attendance shared mini containers of Play Doh among themselves, and gave a verbal invitation to consider making something that reflects what they believed God was calling us to be. I also offered an invitation for the children to create something that reflected what they thought the world needed more of. All the objects made in the congregation witnessed to the triune God as we collectively explored what it meant to be recreated in all stages of life. In the final weeks of the series, we arranged the collection of sculptures on the communion table, and I selected some as sermon illustrations or inspiration for the spoken liturgy.
In a traditional worship setting, it was a significant change to have the pastor preach while molding Play Doh and reflecting on what it might mean for us to be on the potter’s wheel—not just as individuals, but as the church in the world. The invitation to use Play Doh garnered audible chuckles from folk as they engaged their own prophetic imaginations, and the scent of the brightly colored moldable blobs conjured vivid memories from their youth or their children’s youth.
In a way, the proclamation of Scripture always serves as an invitation to act differently, but rarely is there an opportunity in worship to immediately respond in real time, bringing our own prophetic imaginations as congregation members and contributing to the proclamation of the word of God in the preaching moment. Might there be an opportunity for all of us to look at the verbs, the actions, and the reactions in the biblical witness and explore practices to engage kinesthetic ways of knowing in worship, for all ages?
Moments of communal presence with one another like these in worship can become moments of proclamation themselves. In American culture, the lies of rugged individualism and perfectionism tether us and our neighbors to unhelpful ways of being, shutting us down and shutting us up as preachers. We have the opportunity in worship for countercultural co-creation with all who are present, invitations to proclaim the good news that worship is truly a communal effort and experience.
The authentic “mmm-hmm” of approval from the congregation, the holy snickering lightly bouncing between shoulders, the ever so gentle head nod, the verbal affirmation, “Amen,” and the clap or snaps are all testaments to the power of being the body of Christ together joined in spirit for the glorification of the triune God alone. While they can be overlooked, these embodied signs of each person’s presence all become contributions to the sermonic moment. I would like to challenge us as preachers to be mindful to co-create with God space for such moments to take place in worship.
In the end, I lift up this example not because it is a perfect example of collaboration in preaching. I can think of joint sermons, other examples of sermons that include art making, dramatic readings, and so many other ways to involve the congregation in the preaching moment. But these worship services showed something about the formative possibilities of worship in its engagement with Scripture through holy and liberative words and actions. Something about how it came together over those weeks moved us collectively from “looking to your own interests but each . . . to the interests of the others.”
In a world where screens create a constant dynamic of watching or being watched, it is a sacred blessing to offer time for togetherness, moments in which we are truly in it together. This could mean preparing faithfully for the sermon but holding the preaching time open to the community and the Holy Spirit, one in which you are humbly willing to be changed in the moment. This vulnerability means knowing that the beloved manuscript you prepared comes second to what God is up to in the community. It means watching and listening as you are sharing. It means shifting your tempo at times. It means reflecting the movement of the Creator God, the Sustaining Spirit, and the Liberator Christ, in tune with the kind of relationships we recognize in the perichoretic dance of the triune God.
We have the opportunity to proclaim with joy the great good news that we are liberated from fearful, performative, individualistic perfectionism. We have the sacred opportunity to disrupt the lie that the church is yet another consumerist institution in which we play a transactional role as performer or audience. In recent years, the pandemic and deep political divides have made apparent a sense of disconnection. It is a healing gift to truly trust that God will provide the exact blessing needed in this time and place. May we have the humility to be deeply present with people as we share the word God has provided as faithfully as we can.
