The Power of the Obvious

I’m noticing lately that so much of parenting is saying obvious things.

“Don’t put that screwdriver in your mouth.”

“Do not pull that bookshelf down on yourself.”

“Please don’t rub poop in your hair, buddy.”

Half the time I’m talking to my kids I’m thinking, “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud.” But hey—children need to be told that stuff, right?

It dawned on me recently, though, that we never really grow out of needing to be reminded of the obvious.

I know this because of what I do for a living.

I don’t mean to ruin the surprise, but I’ll just go ahead and tell you: 75% of preaching is saying things almost as obvious as “Don’t run with scissors in your mouth.”

Love God. Be a good spouse. Treat people kindly. Read your Bible. Don’t give in to temptation. Pray. …Not exactly mind-blowingly revelatory.

The thing is, though, that’s okay. So often, we need to be reminded of the obvious. Even as adults, we need to be challenged to, in light of the consequences, do the only thing that makes sense.

I suppose that’s why I’ve heard it said that great communicators are “masters of the obvious.” They’re able to take something that’s almost self-evident and package it in a way that not only compels attention, but compels implementation.

Which is important, because somebody’s got to stop people from rubbing poop in their hair, right?

Cut And Paste

This past weekend, my sister introduced me to the YouTube phenomenon of recut movie trailers. Pretty funny stuff.

Check out You’ve Got Mail:

And here’s a reimagined Mary Poppins:

The first thing I thought when I saw these? People do this with the Bible all the time.

Combine a bunch of actual quotes from Scripture, some creativity, and a predetermined agenda, and voila—you can make the Bible say just about anything you want it to.

The best way to ensure you don’t buy that kind of rubbish (or teach it)? Context.

Tradition Versus Innovation

Sometimes “the same” is good.

When things are done the same way they usually are, people know what to expect—“Oh—I’m supposed to listen/participate/brake/laugh/wait to be seated/etc.” Piggybacking on people’s previous experience allows you to take a shortcut. You don’t have to reinvent the wheel—just use the cues that work.

But “the same” can eventually become mundane, unimaginative, and can even border on the ridiculous. Take, for instance, this video:

Sometimes—whether you’re doing a newscast, preaching a sermon, teaching a class, planning a worship service, creating an event, or just about anything else—“different” is good.

“Different” disrupts precedents. It pokes at comfort zones. It challenges status quo. Different jars people out of routine and almost forces them to pay attention.

Unless, of course, you do “different” all the time.

Then it becomes the same. :)

The Teacher As Harbinger of New Things

Hey, there. Thanks for coming back around after my 2-week break. A lot happened during the last two weeks, but posting here wasn’t one of them. I’m happy to say, though, that I’m back in the saddle. Giddyup.

Teaching Bible stories is so cool. Drama, intrigue, love, revenge, conquest, betrayal, hope, suspense, reconciliation—it’s all in there. And it’s fun to communicate the awesome things God did in the lives of people we’ve come to feel like we know.

But there’s one thing we’ve got to keep in mind as we teach.

Because if we don’t remember this thing, we’re liable to totally miss the point and contribute to a warped faith in the hearts of those we teach. So here it is:

In the end, teaching isn’t just about what God did. It’s about what God is doing.

Check out what God says in Isaiah 43—

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

God’s specifically talking here about the awesome Exodus he accomplished for his people hundreds of years before this. “Forget about that,” He says. “I’m up to something new.”

Sure, God wants us to remember—to rehearse the stories that so beautifully and powerfully communicate who He is and what He wants. But He doesn’t want us to have a faith that exists in the past—a faith that unconsciously assumes that his incredible activity has stopped.

And I don’t think He wants us to be teachers who talk (or people who think) about what He did, and not about what He’s doing.

Those of us who teach the Bible aren’t just re-tellers of what God has done in the past. We’re harbingers of the news that God is up to new things and that those we teach can be a part of them.

Teaching isn’t just about what God did. It’s about what God is doing.

Hosanna!

Preached last night about Jesus’ Triumphal Entry and discovered several things I hadn’t realized before I studied for the lesson.

For instance:

The people shouting “Hosanna!” (literally, “God, save us!”) and hailing Jesus as King aren’t the people of Jerusalem. They’re disciples who’ve come with him from Galilee for the Passover. So the “Triumphal Entry” is this moment when Jesus’ enthusiastic disciples who aren’t citizens of the city herald his arrival among the less-than-enthusiastic Jerusalemites.

This reminds me of those of us who follow Jesus now.

Stationed at our various points in this world, we announce his presence and hail him as king, while the crowds look on skeptically. Our “Hosannas” seem to them to be overstated and ill-informed—a foolish amount of confidence to place in the imposter of Nazareth.

But we know differently. So we proclaim him still, lining his path and offering our praise, hopeful that his time in the city will turn the tide—that skeptics will become believers and that those who plot against him would instead sing his praise.

The difference is, of course, that we know how the story ended then, and how that it will end similarly this time—with a terrible, beautiful climax—a combination of grace and justice, of mercy and consequence, of death and life. There will be tears and there will be glory. And in the moments between then and now, all we can do is proclaim to the city that the King is here, that He must be worshipped, and that only He can save us.

Why I Don’t Preach 3-Point Sermons

Occasionally college students studying ministry interview me about my work. During these conversations, the subject of preaching inevitably comes up and I find myself making a case for something I believe in strongly—something that’s near and dear to my heart.

It’s one-point preaching.

More often than not, when I get in front of people on Sunday, I’ve got one point I want to communicate. Not five. Or four. Or three.

And here’s why: If I try to communicate three things, almost nobody (including me) is going to remember all three. At best, they might remember the last point. The more I say, the less memorable everything I say becomes. Less information usually means more impact.

So I say one thing.

I decide what’s most important, figure out how to say it succinctly, cut away everything else, and then develop that one point as compellingly as I can.

This approach does two (yes, two—and I’m aware of the irony here) things:

1. Promotes Quality
   Three mediocre, slightly trivial points can hide behind one another. One naked point, on the other hand, demands scrutiny. If I’m only going to say one thing, I’d better make it good.
   
   
2. Prevents Superficiality
   With three, four, five, ten points, it’s easy to stay on the surface, state the obvious, avoid difficult questions or challenging application, and move on. After all, I’ve got other points to get to. But with a one-point lesson I’m almost forced to address questions, develop ideas, make connections, come up with thoughtful illustrations, and apply the text to real life. I’m more likely to communicate this point well, because there are no other points to hide behind.

I’m not saying the one-point approach is a magic bullet. There are some times it just doesn’t fit a given topic or text. Nor am I saying that every 3-point sermon is a failure. I’m just saying that in most cases, I think one point is the way to go.

What about you? Agree or disagree? Let me have it.

How To Tell A Story That Works

If you’re trying to communicate something, few things are more powerful than a story. Stories personalize ideas and illustrate concepts.

And they can be told in a myriad of ways.

For example, check out this 53-second ad from Google:

Telling stories is good. Telling stories creatively in ways that resonate with people’s current experience is great.

Once you know what you need to communicate, there are two questions left: What’s the story I want to use? And What’s the best way to tell it?

4 Questions Every Communicator Must Ask Before Presenting

Any time you’re preparing a presentation, there are 4 things you need to ask yourself. They’ll help shape your content, clarify your message, and ensure maximum impact.

If you can’t answer these questions concisely, you’re not ready to present.

Here they are:

1. What do they need to know?
   This is the bottom line. It’s the core content you want to communicate. Everything hinges on whether or not you get this across. Oh—and it’s best if you can answer this question in one sentence.
   
   
2. Why do they need to know it?
   Adults learn on a need-to-know basis. By answering this question (both in your preparation and in your presentation), you’re developing interest by demonstrating the importance/potential impact/centrality of what you’re communicating. Side note: Answer this question for your audience before you answer the first question and you’ll create tension that engages and compels attention.
   
   
3. What do they need to do?
   Here’s where you ensure your lecture/sermon/presentation makes a difference. It’s a call to action—an appeal for your audience to translate principles into practice. You need to challenge them to do something. The more specific you are, the better.
   
   
4. Why do they need to do it?
   Imagine a future where people actually follow through on what you’ve talked about. How would that tomorrow be different from today? Help your audience to see that. Dream a little with them here. Paint a picture of what’s at stake—inspire them to act by showing them what will change if they do.
   
   

I know—these sound pretty elementary. But I can’t tell you how many times early in my preaching and teaching I got up to speak without having answered one, two, three, …sometimes all four of these questions.

Sometimes these answers come early in your preparation, sometimes they come late. Sometimes they come easy, and sometimes they’re more stubborn. Regardless, if you work to answer them before you stand in front of your audience you’ll have done them a huge favor.

2 Rules For Teachers

Here are two rules to follow if you want to communicate well, whether you’re teaching, preaching, or writing:

1. Don’t complicate what’s simple.
2. Don’t oversimplify what’s complicated.

Protect simplicity and honor complexity. You’d be surprised how challenging this is to pull off.

How to Fail as a Teacher

Easy—just mimic this guy:

If you teach, preach, or write, your goal should be to communicate, not to make yourself look smart.

I’m sure this guy’s audience was specialized. But odds are yours isn’t. They’re just regular people trying to learn about God, math, management, whatever.

Jargon, overly technical terms, convoluted concepts, and sesquipedalian presentations make your audience confused and frustrated, not impressed.

The mark of a great communicator is not an audience that thinks you’re smart or educated. It’s an audience that has understood, embraced, and been radically changed by the content you’ve presented.