“Let your light shine before others,
so that they may see your good works
and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
–Matthew 5:16
There used to be a preaching professor at my seminary whose pet peeve was weak sermon titles. He would often tell his students that the title of the sermon should be so strong that if a bus full of people was driving by the church and saw the sermon title on the message board out front, that the title alone should be enough to get them off the bus and into church. Perhaps the photo accompanying this post had that kind of impact!
In his classroom, though, many titles did not achieve that goal. Instead, when that professor didn’t like the name for a student’s sermon he would say something like “Mr. Willingham, that sermon was acceptable, but the title, it certainly won’t get them off the bus.”
By the time I arrived in Princeton that professor was no longer on the faculty, but his reputation lived on in the story of a student who had grown tired of having her sermons judged by that single factor. Over the course of a semester she worked diligently to prepare a message that was faithful to the text, she would practice her delivery for hours, but it would all be wiped away by the professor saying something like “Well, that wasn’t a bad sermon, but that title, it sure won’t get them off the bus.” Exasperated, legend has it that the seminarian responded to his challenge in a literal way and entitled her last sermon “There are rattlesnakes on the bus!”
Without a doubt a good sermon title can peak one’s curiosity. Back in the day when local newspapers listed sermon titles on the church page in the Saturday edition, I would regularly look to get an idea of what was being proclaimed from other pulpits in the community. Yet if that seminary legend is true, I hope the professor learned that even a good title can become a weakness if it becomes the chief focus; that it can strengthen a message, but never replace it.
As part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, he started with the Beatitudes; those nine statements that open with the word “blessed” and then speak of a kind of life that most of us would not consider fortunate. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” he began “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
A few verses later, Jesus speaks about how his people are to be the light of the world. “No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house,” he added and then concludes: “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
There are all kinds of lessons to be taken from those words, but surely part of his meaning is that our best efforts are always meant to bring glory to God. That the ultimate hope of seeing human beings do good things is not to evoke praise for the doer, but for God.
Thus, if someone sees you forgive another who has deeply wounded you, they may admire you or perhaps question your decision, but ultimately are given a glimpse of God’s nature. When they witness a deed of compassion or gentleness toward someone who cannot possibly repay the favor, they might admire what you have done but they also receive insight about the Holy One’s character. And when they hear a sermon that opens a different perspective on human existence or causes a heart to change, when it inspires action or a kind of generosity previously unknown from the recipient, a worshiper may tell the preacher “good sermon.” Yet more importantly, they receive the latest evidence of why it is that we worship God in the first place.
That’s the goal of every good deed you or I offer. Those moments when our efforts bring light to a part of the world or human existence where it seems to be missing and the observer finds her or himself expressing clear praise for the Creator.
A good sermon title when compared to such an outcome is simply a bonus.
Holy One, help me be your light in all that I do, so that in witnessing my best efforts, others will yet again praise you. Amen.
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