On public speaking....

I have often heard that the one thing that some people dread more than death is public speaking. Now I am not a soldier, I don't fight fires nor am I an astronaut. My children, all of whom are boys, love race cars, star wars, and ninjas. What I do for a living seems somewhat boring by comparison. So when I hear that there is no small segment of our population that is more scared of what is part of my normal job routine than they are of death than I feel somewhat gratified.

Now there are many circumstances to which a minister might be called to do some public speaking that are outside the parameters of simply doing a sermon on Sunday. In almost any gathering of people you will likely be called upon, without prior notice, to be the bull horn- to quiet a crowd, to provide directions, to say a prayer, or perhaps to help introduce the mayor of Chicago. The latter may only happen once in your life but because it has I will include it among the repertoire. I have been asked- again, without prior notice- to speak at weddings, funerals, and large conferences. Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea about what I am communicating let me be clear; it’s an honor.

To be invested with so much trust as to be the communicator representing the wishes or convictions of the deceased, the newly betrothed, a large dinner gathering, or thousands of people together is a part of my life that will never grow old. It is truly one of my favorite aspects of the role I play. It is also a terrifying part of my spirituality.

Let me explain. What I am about to say is as honest as I can be, and I hope there are no repercussions from it. Every sermon I write, for the most part, entails a process for which torment is no small element. There is always a moment where I inevitably say to myself "this is the worst thing I have ever written" and I start again. At some point the words "why didn't I have somebody else preach this week" come out of my mouth and finally when I reach my lowest point I begin to question whether or not I am even a Christian. This is not that point of honesty to which I was referring yet.

There is usually, however, a moment where the angst disperses and the torture of trying to achieve coherence ends and I reach an epiphany where all my thoughts make sense. Finally, what lay before me is a stream of ideas, facts, and Biblical insights that form a narrative that makes sense and has a point. And what do I get for all this hard work? A lot.

I get to present my thoughts and ideas to a group of people usually eager to hear them and always gracious as an audience. Once a week I get applause and feedback that encourages and motivates me for the week to come. Oh yeah, and I also get paid to do it. While that is not nearly the entirety of my job it seems to be an important piece. I am now about to reach that point of honesty to which I previously referred. Here is what terrifies me: I am not someone that God chose to do this job because of my spirituality.

I am not saying I'm a heathen or living a double life. I am very moral if I don't say so myself. I just struggle to be spiritual. I look at the members of our church and I am consistently awed by their humble walks with God; working 50 hours a week, taking care of their marriages and children, turning down career opportunities so they can devote more time to God's fellowship, learning and listening to men much younger and less experienced, allowing their personal lives to be discipled... it goes on and on. And no one gives them applause at the end of the week. No one congratulates them. Honestly, most of the time no one notices because everyone else is doing the same thing. Their reward is yet to come, while I often receive mine in advance and again, I’m not even that spiritual.

I don't like to sing. I force myself to pray most of the time. Sharing my faith everyday is an act of will power often solely motivated by my desire to be obedient to God rather than my love for the lost. I don't read devotional-type books (sticking strictly to theology and commentaries) and I couldn't even tell you how to find a Christian radio station. I don't fast enough, I don't take notes when others are teaching, and I'd rather watch football than go to a worship concert. I am not very humble and I have the annoying habit of always believing I am right. If I wasn't married to a saint I would be ten times worse.

When the end of days does come, I know my place will be modest. In this world God has given me a set of tools and He uses them to His advantage. Along the way I am given greater attention as a result. There are many people in the Bible God used as His instrument out of no virtue of their own. Pharaoh was tool, and it didn't go so well for him. Now I know I am no Pharaoh, but I am no Moses, Jeremiah, or one of the many nameless prophets in the scriptures either. I am more likely somewhere between Samson and Hezekiah (at the end of his life). The point is that there are so many more devout, spiritual, and humble people that I know who might be more qualified to do my job. It just happens that it isn't their calling or gift set. It is my calling out of no merit of my own. This thought is chilling to me.

James 3:1 says, "Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly." That verse has driven me to my knees on many occasions asking forgiveness for any stupid thing I might have taught and not yet realized. I am humbled and terrified by my calling. Again, while teaching and preaching are not the entirety of my job, they have been a significant element to that calling.

So, on the subject of public speaking I have reservations of a spiritual nature. I love public speaking and while it makes me sick every Sunday morning because of nervous energy I hope I am allowed to do it the rest of my life. That said, I often wonder what it will mean for me at the resurrection. I have applied my gifts to a work of service for which there is great reward in this world (when you do a good job at least) and what could possibly then be left for me then in the next? It is a thought that will hopefully always keep me humble- something for which my wife often prays I notice- and honest as I try and run my own race.