Sermons Remembered

I somehow left Bible College believing that my congregants would deeply admire my oratory skills, my passion, my intellect and Bible knowledge. I believed my sermons would always be life changing and impacting. They never told me in Bible College that I would preach some really bad sermons and they never told me that my parishioners would actually be brutally honest about just how bad they were at times.

I have never been one to always preach the church calendar or even necessarily to preach a sermon appropriate to a given holiday. However, my worst mistake missing a holiday was the Mother's Day sermon that was not about Mother's Day. I was working my way through a particular series and it just happened that the subject for that Day was Hell. Well, you can guess what I caught from the Moms of the church after that sermon.

Another time, I knew while I was preaching that it was just not working. I should have quit and sent everyone home, but instead foolishly pressed on. Dallise's brother and his family were visiting for the weekend, and I still vividly remember the lunch-time conversation at home afterward. Of course, Dallise, my lovely and wonderful wife and personal critic, was the first to comment about how bad the sermon had been. Then, my brother-in-law, Dallis, whom I love and respect, chimed in his views of just how bad it had been. In fact, before lunch was over, it was plain this must have been the worst sermon in all of history. To top it off, the next day, Ronnie, one of our Elders and a great personal friend, came by the church just to ask me what had gone so wrong the day before. Even his wife, Linda, always a supportive friend and encourager, got in on the act, agreeing they had never heard me preach such a bad sermon.

And then, there are good sermons gone bad. Steady Freddy will live in infamy at Liberty Church in Birmingham. When I look back over 33 years of preaching, it is the one sermon most remembered. I was preaching about the need to remain steadfast in our walk with The Lord. I wanted to emphasize the need to bounce back from adversities. I borrowed from Jeff and Pam's kids their inflatable Fred Flintstone punching bag. You know the toy, right? It is weighted in the bottom with sand. When you punch it, it falls over, but bounces right back up. Well, my intention was to punch Fred, whom I had nicknamed Steady Freddy for my sermon, explaining that when the storms of life knock us down, we have to bounce back like Steady Freddy. Well, I hit Freddy a little too hard. My punch drove him head first right under the kneeling bench at the altar, and there he stuck, not bouncing back at all. The crowd exploded in laughter, Dallise crying above the din, "I begged him not to do this. I begged him not to embarrass and humiliate the family!" As the noise began to settle, I thought I might still be able to salvage the message. I pulled Freddy from under the kneeling bench to set him upright and hit him again with a little less force. However, my previous blow had burst the sand compartment in the bottom and now Freddy would not even stand upright. I thought the sermon was lost and the message would never have its intended impact. Yet, I discover as we have occasionally heard from friends over the years, this was perhaps the most well remembered sermon I ever preached. My hope and prayer is that all who still mercilessly tease me are always bouncing back from life's adversities.

If any of you remember any other sermons I ever preached, I would love to hear about it. I guess I just want to know that my life has some meaning beyond Steady Freddy.