The sermon is a work of art.
That is not just a metaphor. It is a theological conviction about what preaching actually is and why we do it.
What Preaching Is Not
The sermon is not a motivational speech. Motivational speeches are energetic and inspiring and they have their place, but the pulpit is not that place. The preacher is not trying to help people unlock their potential or find the best version of themselves.
The sermon is not a lecture. The seminary classroom is a good and necessary place, and the preacher must be a student of the text. But the lecture hall and the sanctuary are not the same room. The congregation is not sitting in class, they are gathering for worship.
The sermon is not a denominational treatise. A great deal of time and energy have been wasted in pulpits proving that “we” are right and “they” are wrong. The sermon was never meant to be a defense of our tribe.
The sermon is not a performance. The entertainer’s goal is to hold attention and generate applause. There is nothing inherently wrong with holding attention, but the moment the preacher begins managing the audience’s experience rather than delivering a word from God, something essential has been lost.
The sermon is not a guilt trip. Manipulation dressed up in scripture is still manipulation. The Holy Spirit convicts; the preacher does not need to take that job. When anyone uses the pulpit to pressure, shame, or emotionally coerce a congregation into compliance, they have not preached. They have abused a sacred trust.
What Preaching Is
Preaching is an act of worship.
Before the congregation hears the sermon, the preacher must have lived with the text long enough that it has changed him. The weeks of study and wrestling with a passage, the moments when a phrase opens up like a door and you see something you have never seen before — all of that is worship. The preparation is a journey of discipleship. Then, when the preacher steps into the pulpit, they are offering back to God what God first gave to them.
Preaching is a work of art.
An artist is not someone who makes things look pretty. An artist is someone who sees something beautiful and works with everything they have to help other people see it too. The sculptor sees a form inside the stone. The poet hears the music inside the language. The painter sees light in a way the rest of us walk past without noticing. The preacher sees truth and beauty in God’s Word, and they give their life to helping the people in the pews see what they see. In that way, the preacher is an artist.
The Artist’s Discipline
Here is where this gets challenging. Real artists work hard. They do not walk up to the canvas on Sunday morning and hope something comes to them. They have spent the week learning their craft, studying their subject, and submitting themselves to the discipline of the work.
The Apostle Paul told Timothy to give himself wholly to these things (1 Timothy 4:15). The word for “give himself wholly” literally means to be absorbed in them, to be in them the way a person is in a room. The preacher lives inside the text before opening their mouth about it.
And when Sunday comes, they bring their best. Not their most polished performance, but their best offering. There is an important difference. The offering is marked by care and prayer and sacrifice. The performance is marked by technique and ego. The artist offers. The entertainer performs.
Representing the Glory
The sermon’s highest goal is to make God’s glory visible.
Every great artist is trying to represent something that exceeds them. The landscape painter knows the mountains are more magnificent than the painting. The symphonic composer knows the music he heard in his head is more profound than what the orchestra can fully produce. But the composer tries anyway. And in the trying, something powerful gets through.
The preacher knows the same thing. The glory of God exceeds every word they will ever speak. The power of the Gospel is more profound than any outline they will ever write. The truth of God’s Word is wider than any sermon series they will ever plan. But they try anyway. And in the trying, the Holy Spirit works. And in that work, people are changed.
That is the miracle the preacher lives for. It’s not applause or compliments. It’s not the encouraging text messages after the service. Those things are fine, but the preacher who has stood in the pulpit and watched the Spirit of God move across a congregation knows there is nothing else like it. They were not the one who did it. They were the one who showed up with an offering, and God blessed the loaves and fed the multitude.
A Word to Fellow Preachers
Your people need an artist who works at showing them the beauty of God and His Gospel. They do not need a pep rally. They do not need a classroom lecture. They do not need you to tell them what is wrong with everybody who disagrees with your theological tradition. They need someone who has been with God. They need someone who has wrestled with the text until it has broken something in them. They need someone who stands before them not to impress them but to give them something they could not keep to themselves. They need the artist’s offering.
Your sermon is an act of worship. And like all true worship, it begins with the recognition that we are in the presence of God and He is doing something greater than we could ever do on our own.
Dear Preacher, go back to the text. Go back to your knees. Give yourself completely to the work. Then stand up on Sunday and offer your best.
The God who inhabits the praises of His people will meet you there.
John W. Crowder is the pastor of First Baptist Church West in West, Texas, and the author of Anchor Point. He writes regularly at viewfromvine.com.
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