THS-14-14. The Sermon in Action

14. The Sermon in Action The moment of crisis comes when you stand before your congregation to preach the message--the best which your hours of toil and the resources of your knowledge and imagination have been able to produce. Everything depends upon what you do with your sermon in the next twenty or twenty-five minutes in which you seek to give it expression. And that depends upon another set of factors altogether: your deportment, your manner, the management of your breath, the control of your voice, the enunciation of your words. You are now in need of another course of training, to enable you to capitalize the results of your week’s labor. A man with goods to sell needs the gift of salesmanship; a man with capital to use requires the business ability to invest it. A preacher with a message to deliver must have the necessary gifts to present it to his people. The sermon which is the result of patient study and homiletical skill is of no value at all to his congregation unless he preaches it; it may be worse than useless if he preaches it badly.

It would be fitting therefore if now we set out on another course of studies to learn how to make the message effective on the day of unburdening. The fact that the study of the art of sermon construction has occupied thirteen chapters, and the study of the sermon in action is to be dealt with in one, is no indication of their relative importance. The delivery of the sermon is of primary importance, and one of the reasons why preaching has fallen upon evil days is that so many preachers are content to mooch along in their pulpit work without any effort to develop the latent resources they possess. It involves a course of studies in itself--a course which every man who dares to stand up to speak the oracles of God, should undertake with resolution and unquenchable persistence, and the purpose of this closing chapter is to unveil both the need and the possibilities of this aspect of preaching work.

Stance

Let us begin with stance. That is a sporting term, I know, but I do not recall any other quite so good for the idea I have in mind. It is the position of the player’s feet in relation to each other and to the ball when he is making a stroke.

That’s it exactly. The position of a preacher’s feet relative to one another and his audience is a matter of consequence. Recall some attitudes you have seen. Here is a man standing flatfooted, heels together and toes out at an angle of ninety degrees--an uninspiring attitude. Here is another with a foot sticking out eighteen inches from the other, poised on its heel, with the toes pointed to heaven. A preacher should take care that he does not appear gawky. Fortunately, or otherwise, for some men, the pulpit or the desk hides a multitude of faults. A student whom I criticized last week for bending at the knees--a very ugly gesture--when he wished to emphasize a point, remarked that the desk would hide it when he was preaching. "’Tis true, ’tis pity, and pity ’tis, ’tis true." It is a pity when any man will try to shelter himself behind some object to hide faults of which he should rid himself. There will come days when a preacher stands on an open platform for special addresses. If, sheltering behind a pulpit he has developed unfortunate habits of deportment he feels gauche, awkward, and probably looks worse than he feels. Even so simple a habit as holding on to the pulpit desk proves to be a terribly disturbing one if a desk is not there. My friend Gilbert E. Chandler believed that he had a body every part of which should be made effective for preaching. "An actor doesn’t hide his legs behind a desk," he once said to me; "he learns how to conduct himself before his audience." The best position for the feet is to have one slightly in advance of the other, with the heel of one about three inches from the instep of the other, and the toes at an angle of forty or forty-five degrees. The weight normally should be on the rear foot, though it may be transferred to the other, or borne by both feet, according to the nature of the utterance. There should, of course, be perfect freedom for any movement that may be required. One must not be so stiff in his stand that he looks as if a foot movement would be tantamount to breaking one of the ten commandments. On the other hand, movement should not be excessive. Some preachers roam about the platform like a caged lion, but in doing so they are not nearly so impressive as the king of beasts.

Expanded Chest

Stand erect! The best way to do this is to maintain an expanded chest. If a speaker does this he not only ensures an erect attitude; he also by the same token fulfills all the various instructions to be found in text books about keeping the lungs properly filled for public speech. This expansion of the chest may be made by muscular effort, quite apart from the inflation of the lungs. To know what is meant, stand with your back to a wall, touching the wall with head and body. Then while holding the body exactly in the attitude thus assumed, move from the wall slightly, and you will realize that you are "carrying your chest." Learn thus to carry it--maintain an expanded chest--whenever you are standing or walking, until it becomes your habitual attitude. It will do a number of things for you, all of them good. It will prevent you from becoming round shouldered, as many young students are prone to do. It will give you easy control of breath in preaching. It will prevent you from degenerating into that most pathetic sight, often to be seen in preachers of middle age, of a man standing to deliver a message with ribs collapsed and stomach protruding. Pray to be saved from that, and answer your prayer by learning to maintain always the expanded chest. Alexander Watson, the world-renowned elocutionist, who about twenty years ago delighted Australian audiences night after night through a long season with his public recitals, said that this position of the expanded chest is one that all skilled public speakers assume, consciously or unconsciously, at the beginning of a speech. There should be no exaggeration, nothing of a "sergeant-major attitude," involving strained rigidity. The position may require effort at first to maintain it on and off the platform but it becomes natural after a while, is a tonic to health, and a source of confidence to the preacher. Some men will not need to concern themselves about this. Alexander Watson, in his book, "Speak Out," tells who they are. You may wish to know if you are exempt. They are "Phlegmatic, unemotional speakers ... and those who speak with a maximum of head and a minimum of heart, especially if they never have occasion to address very large audiences."

Gestures

Gestures may be effective aids to public speech. They may be a real hindrance. The art of gesturing needs cultivation; please note I did not say artificiality. There is a world of difference between art and artificiality. One is from above, the other from beneath. There is nothing more offensive than artificiality in gesture. One can put up with it from "trained" elocutionists at a social gathering if a good supper is to follow, but you cannot endure it in a preacher. Gestures, however, are usually not so artificial as meaningless, uncoordinated movements that express nothing, and are merely the release of pent-up energy. Avoid clenching the fist--I saw a preacher say "God is love," and he shook a clenched fist at his congregation the while, the tense attitude not only making him ridiculous, but giving a strident note to his voice quite unbecoming to the sentiment he was expressing. Keep your hands out of your pockets.

I have not yet quite recovered from the shock I received last year when a senior student--almost a finished product of the college--stood with both hands in his pockets reading to his people a great message from the Word of God. Let your hands hang easily by your side, the fingers touching lightly on the trousers. They must hang easily. If they are held stiffly, they will seem awkward. The most natural and graceful position for the hands is by the side, even if it feels uncomfortable, as I can testify it does till you become accustomed to it. They may be held in front, for a change, or at the back. If you put them behind you, see that they do not drag the shoulders down, and collapse the ribs--place them behind the waist, and keep your chest expanded. In your gestures, never move your hands from the wrists or elbows alone there should always be movement from the shoulders. A preacher who makes practically all his gestures outward from the elbows, in the middle zone, merely giving a senseless flip of the hand in the same way, whether he is describing a burial or announcing the trumpet blast of Gabriel at the resurrection, is merely an annoyance. Learn to raise your hands high when you are expressing elevated thoughts. Stand before a mirror and study your movements. Women have no compunctions about using a mirror, and quite commonly they achieve good results, according to their tastes, of course. You may not be worth looking at in a mirror for general purposes, but it becomes an essential thing to a man who really wants to make the best of his gestures in preaching. It was a man, not a woman, according to St. James, who looked at himself in a mirror and straightway went away and forgot what he looked like. Modern psychology teaches us that we easily forget what is unpleasant. Only you must not forget, when you are studying gesture work. Look and look again, experimenting with the way you move your hands and arms, until you can do it with some measure of grace. Study other preachers and learn from their gestures, good and bad--especially the latter, for the field of study is so much more extensive. Ask some discerning friend who has good judgment, to watch you, and to give you the benefit of his observations. Study some good treatise on gesture; it will teach you the sort of thing to attempt. Always maintain a healthy fear of artificiality, use--I repeat it, sir--use the mirror, and always pray "Oh, would some power the gift give us To see ourselves as others see us!"

Voice Control The voice is the preacher’s chief means of conveying his message to his hearers, yet it is probably correct to say that comparatively few men give any real attention to the cultivation of a good voice. A few fortunate people do not need to; without effort they have dropped into a natural easy way of using their voices with brilliance and power. It ought to be so with all living things. It is with most of them. The magpie reaches perfection in his rich full tones which delight us so much in the freshness of the spring morning. I have wondered at the absolute control a dog has of all the apparatus of voice production--I have often studied him, especially at night when he would not let me sleep. It is different with humans, for the most part. Perhaps because of restraints thrown about us in youth, perhaps because of a growing sense of our inability ever to reach the heights of attainment to which our souls aspire, most of us do not use our voices well. The astounding thing is that most preachers do not care that this is so. In my city there are many men, members of Rostrum Clubs, who meet every week to improve the quality of their public speaking. Preachers, because of their divine calling, should be, of all men, the most ambitious to cultivate the power of their voices to the glory of God. A preacher once wrote me--he is in heaven now, and would not mind if I quoted him--"My old voice is constantly turning me down. I think of training, but feel the time is too precious to be spent in voice training. However, I have spoilt a number of my best prepared addresses with gulping and ’fizzling out’." But for the old motto, De Mortuis nil nisi bonum,

I hardly know what I wouldn’t say. "Best prepared addresses! "Spoilt!" "Fizzling out!" "Time too precious to be spent in voice training!" Probably his words tell their own story sufficiently well.

Having confessed someone else’s sins, perhaps I had better confess my own. When I was young I had some good instruction in voice training, but did not use it. After four years of preaching in Australia I went to America and spent four years there. No voice training--"time was too precious to be spent in voice training." I came back to Australia then, with the stamp of the university and of American experience on me. Something was expected of me, naturally. But ere long my throat gave way through wrong use, and many of my best sermons were spoilt "with gulping and fizzling out." I had loved singing, solos and part singing, but I could sing no more. Two doctors told me they could do nothing for me--it was "clergymen’s sore throat," and I should have to get on as best I could. Fortunately there then came into my hands a little book, How to Train the Speaking Voice, by Thomas Tait, M.A., B.D. It taught me that my trouble was constriction of the throat, and it gave one simple exercise for overcoming it. I set to work diligently, and in three weeks I was able again to take my place in part-singing, and from that day to this I have had no difficulty with my throat.

Even though a preacher may have experienced no collapse of that sort, it does not follow that he is using his voice effectively. The human voice is such a wonderful instrument that it will well repay a preacher to seek to develop pure quality, and resonance, and modulation. How thin and flat and toneless some voices are! Like most musical instruments, the human speaking apparatus has a motor, a vibrator, and a resonator. The motor is the lungs, the vibrator is the vocal chords, and the resonator is the nasal and mouth cavities. The lungs, in speaking, are (or should be) controlled by the muscles at the base of the chest. These abdominal muscles steady the expenditure of breath in ordinary speaking, and provide the power of explosive utterance when it is required. One can always tell whether explosive commands like "Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!" are delivered by the vigorous action of the abdominal muscles, as they ought to be, or by a strain on the vocal chords. In the latter case the effect is always flat and poor. The quality of resonance, again, adds greatly to the beauty of the speaking voice, and it is possible for all to acquire it in some degree. Neglect not the gift that is in thee!

Enunciation

Probably one of the most distressing features of faulty speaking is lack of proper enunciation. A group of young college students, who aspire to be ministers of the Word, who have done a little public speaking in Christian Endeavour and similar meetings, may be presumed to be as effective in enunciation as most people who have not had special training, but it is remarkable how much training they need, as a rule, in this direction. This fact is mentioned in order that other men, who do not come to college, but who seek to prepare themselves for the work of local preaching, or to equip themselves for other kinds of work, may feel the need of practice in articulate utterance. And what shall I more say? For time would fail me to tell of emphasis, and inflection, and pitch, and rate, and force, and pausing, all of them worthy of earnest study and diligent practice. The sincere worker may well be appalled by the magnitude of the task of mastering even in an elementary way the art of public speaking, until he cries, Who is sufficient for these things? And provided he has something of the grit and willingness to work that the apostle Paul had, he may, like him, hear the voice of the Lord saying, My grace is sufficient for thee.