Why don’t young men want to preach any more?

In the last post, we explored one reason–they lack the models of ministry that give preaching respectability.

But that’s only a single cause. Over three decades ago I stepped into full time “church work” (as it was called then). Since that time, I have witnessed a weekly carnage. Preachers, many with years of tenure and full of talent, walked away from pulpits. They had enough.

It’s tough to preach. Everyone is a critic who knows how to do it better (even though they never tried). The sermon is too obscure, too simple, too long, too short, not enough scripture, not enough application, etc., etc., etc. Every preacher can visualize the face of a well-meaning assassin.

Beyond public criticism is the whispering campaign done by members. The menu for many a Sunday dinner is fried preacher. Children grow up hearing how “dumb” the preacher is. Today, preachers get skewered on the barbecue pit of blog posts and Facebook mentions. For many, the merciless stabs keep coming until its time to turn out the light and leave the pulpit.

While some church members can plead guilty to spiritual murder, the preacher must bear some of the responsibility. They either just “took it” or finally exploded and lost their credibility.

If you preach, you need to learn a little spiritual karate. See the blows coming and deflect them.

Three simple strategies blocks the attacker in full-stride

Define your work. Few preachers have well-written job descriptions. I suggest a memo to the elders or leaders stating your understanding of your work and priorities. Ask them to write back to correct (with the caveat that you assume they are correct unless specifically corrected). This keeps you from being a puppet with dozens vying to pull the string next.

Record your work. Keep a daily log. Every hour write down every hour what you do. It doesn’t have to be detailed, but enough to provide a casual reader of what your doing. For instance, don’t write down “studying for sermon.” Instead make an entry that says, “reading commentaries for sermons” or “writing first outline of sermon.” This puts teeth in the entry. Keep your log open on your desk so anyone can see it. (After all, you have nothing to hide.)

Report your work. From you daily log, write a monthly report and send it to your elders or leaders. (Regardless of whether they want it or not, send it. If necessary, tell them it is for your benefit.) From a dozen monthly reports, write an annual review. The experience will keep you on track in ways nothing else can.

This process does one thing. It provides ammunition for people who come at you with “he just doesn’t do his job” (or some variant of the attack). Cooly, you can say, “Perhaps, let’s look at it.” You open your log, take out your reports and start tediously going through them. Your attitude is not ugly. You only want to pursue the truth. (If the charge is true, be prepared to admit it.)

The tragedy of many churches is good men lost to the work simply because they never developed skills that would allow them to last. Don’t become a victim. Learn to last.

(For a copy of these resources, refer to the page on Becoming a Leader that Lasts on our website.)

But one category is vacate. No one wants to preach any longer.

Once the primary field of those studying Bible, preaching has fallen on hard times. Many   theories abound.

• There’s no money in it.
• It’s outdated and antiquated.
• It doesn’t “feel” as good as missions or youth ministry.

While there’s a subjective measure of truth to all the reasons advanced, two tend to be ignored. The first is the topic of this post.

To become a preacher, you have to have respectable models of the profession.

At one time, the preacher was the most educated man in town. He served as the conscience of a community, the locomotive of all that was good, and the most-admired man around.

The damage to preaching reputation came from many sources. The wolf-in-sheep-clothing televangelist in late 20^th century unjustly caricatured all preachers. A younger generations saw through the “fleece for profit” mentality and quickly dismissed both the preacher and his craft.

But another source is a closer to my heart. I grew up in two distinct churches. During my elementary years, we attend a small church of 100. The preacher’s office had a revolving door. In 8 years, we went through four preachers. One left under the unashamed cloak of adultery. Another sat on the parsonage steps and strummed a guitar. His sermons came not from study by a poorly written sermon outline book. The preaching was thin and the preachers more forgettable than the sermons.

When I was twelve, we moved to a larger, growing church. The preacher, Robert Oglesby had order to his sermons. They made sense. In addition, he worked hard and displayed competence both in and of the pulpit. He cared for people, cared for the future of the church, and cared about the preaching.

The contrast was not lost on a young man who was asking the question, “what do I want to be when I grow up?”

If you are a preacher, you are affecting the future of preaching.

Work at your sermons. Learn to outline, illustrate, and make the text come alive. Don’t fool yourself. Everyone (even the 8 year old boy) knows when you are resting on old material.

Work on your attitude. Really care for the church. I meet my share of “I’m here to tell off the church” types. Their messages are dismissed  far before the final “amen.” Love the church. Preach to improve not to pummel into submission. Don’t tell people off or “straighten them out.” Help them improve.

Work on your lifestyle. Work hard. Put in the hours, Be balance in both preaching and work. Be humble and stay a learner. Have a love for the work and a love for the people that says, “I’m proud of what I do.” No one can belittle a man who believes what he is doing is of eternal value.

I’ve been blessed to know great preachers in my life. I’m also saddened to know inadequate preachers in my life. Thankfully, I crossed paths with someone I could respect at the right time in my life.

Don’t wring your hands over the empty pulpit. Be the mold into which other men will pour their lives.