A Boring Sermon and a Boring Listener

“Pastor Meyer is gone today, isn’t he?” I asked over my toast.

Mom was bent over, emptying the dishwasher. “Yeah. They went to visit family in Wisconsin,” she said without looking up.

“Who’s preaching?” I asked.

“Why does it matter?” she asked, jerking her head out of the dishwasher.

“I hope it’s not Pastor Henline. He’s sooooo boring,” I said, taking a drink of my milk.

Mom stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Maybe you’re boring,” she said.

Then I snorted milk out of my nostrils. Mom turned from slightly angry to heavily amused. I hate that I snort when I laugh. Snorting milk is more than an embarrassing pig noise; it hurts.

Mom came over to help me clean it up. I could see her trying not to laugh while I continued to cough and gag. When I caught my breath, I asked, “What do you mean that I’m boring?”

“You only get out of a sermon what you put into it,” she said. “Now go brush your teeth. We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.” She shooed me out of the kitchen with a snorted-milk soaked towel.

I found my Dad waiting outside the bathroom for John to finish. He reached out palm up for me to give him five, like I was five years old. But I did it anyway. I don’t know why, but I can’t resist giving five to an open palm, and it somehow pleases Dad.

I shook the sting off my hand, and, since he is an elder at our church asked him, “Who’s preaching today?”

Still grinning, he said,“Jesus.”

“Aww, come on! You know what I mean,” I said as I softly stamped my foot.

“Pastor Henline,” he answered.

“Awww! He is soooo boring,” I said, rolling my eyes and looking up. “And don’t say I am too,” I warned. “He preaches too long, and he doesn’t say anything.”

“You only get out of a sermon what you put into it,” Dad said as John opened the bathroom door. Before I could respond, he had slipped into the bathroom, and I heard the soft click as the lock slid home.

I thought I might find a sympathetic ear in John. He was headed toward his room. I called out, “Pastor Henline is preaching today!”

He stopped and turned.“So what?” he said.

“He’s so boring!” I nearly shouted.

“They’re all boring,” he said.“What does it matter?”

Mom had come up behind me. “You two quit fooling around,” she said. “We have to get going or we’re going to be late.” Late for Mom is anything less than ten minutes early.

John made a quick retreat to his room. No one argues with Mom when she starts into us about being late.

But I was stuck waiting to brush my teeth. Perhaps it looked like I was sulking though really I was just tired. It didn’t matter. Mom was after me. She spun me around and leaned into me, “I don’t want to hear any more complaints about Pastor Henline from you. He is a good man doing a difficult job.”

Then she headed back toward the kitchen. I didn’t say a word. She threw over her shoulder, “Maybe the problem is that you’re too taken with Pastor Meyer’s rhetoric and style. You’re confusing the man and the message.”

“But Mom,” I protested, “you love Pastor Meyer and his sermons. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a good sermon.”

She stopped. “Of course,” she said. “But you need to think about what makes a good sermon good. I’m thankful for Pastor Henline. He’s faithful. He loves us and seeks to instruct us. He brings us Communion and listens...Oh! Never mind! Go get dressed. It’s almost time to go. You can brush your teeth after church.”

Then she was really gone, and Dad was opening the bathroom door, wiping toothpaste from his mouth. He said, “Sometimes we forget what a privilege it is not only to have the freedom to go to church but also to have a church to go to. Pastor Henline might not be the most eloquent preacher around, but if you put a little effort into your listening, you’ll find that he has plenty to say.”

by Kathy Luder

I knew when I’d been beat. I just nodded and got my brushing done. All our rushing paid off. We got to church with fifteen minutes of waiting around. I was a bit annoyed at the verbal spanking I’d gotten but figured I’d take a shot at working at listening. I decided to pretend like it was a mystery novel. I would try to predict Pastor Henline’s points or at least consider how I would relate what he said to the cops who showed up afterwards to inspect the scene of a crime.

When Pastor Henline drug himself into the pulpit, I listened as attentively as I ever had. I even took notes on my bulletin. Usually I can’t stand Pastor Henline’s stories, and I still think they’re kind of corny, but for the first time I saw a theme developing. Then he caught me by surprise. I realized that I was guilty of what he was talking about. I stopped taking notes. I cast my eyes down in shame. I was the sinner, arrogant and proud, selfish and conceited. Then, just as quick, he let me off the hook. He opened up grace. He showed me the sweet love of Jesus Christ that forgives sinners. He forgave me and spoke the love of God into me. I felt a huge burden lifted.

During the Offertory, I had to catch my breath. Pastor Henline preached a good sermon. For what else could a good sermon do or say than proclaim Jesus Christ?

Pastor Henline doesn’t have the precision or power of Pastor Meyer. His sermon wasn’t as true to life for me. It wasn’t as engaging, and I had to work at it. But it was good. It was good because it was faithful. I am thankful for that and thankful for the prodding from Mom and Dad that helped me see that. I don’t need Pastor Meyer, even if he is my favorite.The Lord provides through Pastor Meyer with powerful sermons that leave me feeling as though I’ve stood on holy ground. But He also provides through Pastor Henline with long and boring sermons that don’t dazzle but do proclaim Jesus Christ. I am certainly glad to have Pastor Meyer as my pastor. If anything I am more thankful than before but also I know that whether Pastor Meyer comes or goes or leaves on vacation the Lord will never forsake me. He will provide.

You only get out of a sermon what you put into it, which has me wondering just what goodness I’ve been missing even in Pastor Meyer’s sermons.

Kathy Luder is a world famous author, web designer, and fashion model; unfortunately, the world of her fame isn’t earth but her own mind.