Early in the 1920s a tall, mild, Presbyterian-looking young man named DeWitt Wallace approached various editors in New York City, asking permission to reprint their articles in his new digest. They prophesied failure. Who would want to read warmed-over material republished a month late?
But Wallace was convinced that most articles were overwritten. He discovered the art of condensing 5,000 words into 2,000 without destroying much but the author's style. This art, and his unerring sense of what would interest ordinary men and women, started the Reader's Digest on the rapid climb that soon saw its circulation top that of all other magazines.
Like Wallace, you can invigorate your sermons by learning what to leave out. If you can say what you wish to communicate in 20 minutes, the sermon is too long if it takes 25 minutes. Today people think much more quickly than formerly. They read the daily newspaper from its headlines, or, glancing down the column of the editorial, extract its significance hastily. Accustomed to rapid mental action through the week, they are wearied when the minister holds a single thought before them possibly a rather common place thought at that for a half hour.
Just how can you omit words, phrases, sentences, and still retain the message? The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. "Where shall I begin, please, Your Majesty?" he asked.
"Begin at the beginning," the king said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end; then stop."
This passage from Alice in Wonderland has been called the greatest rule of writing that was ever laid down. Abide by it in sermon preparation, and Sabbath mornings will find eager, upturned faces in your pews. Sneer at the rule, and heads in the pews will bob and turn.
Many ministers do not begin at the beginning. They go back and take a running start: "Dear Christian friends, this morning I take my text from . . ."By the end of this introduction Mrs. Jones is putting the finishing touches on the noon meal, Mary Brown is selecting next week's wardrobe, and Farmer Smith is husking next autumn's corn crop.
Begin. Don't set the stage. The stage should have already been set. Begin. Begin with a picture sentence that draws attention. "Jesus never stood on a street corner prating about the gilded boulevards of heaven." Watch your sermon openings perk up when you throw the acknowledgment phrase out the window.
How can we stop at the end? By refusing to moralize. State the proposition. Hit the object at which you have aimed and then stop. Don't dance around the object pointing out lesser truths.
In between the beginning and the end eliminate all trite expressions--"absence makes the heart grow fonder," "almighty dollar," "busy as a bee," "in all its glory," "in the words of the poet."
Strengthen your sermons by replacing the verb to be in all its forms--am, is, was, were--with powerful action verbs--strike, shake, run, split. Cross out "Be good to the person next to you" and write "Help your neighbor." For the sentence "John is a good boy," substitute "John plowed the widow's garden." Instead of saying "God is a benevolent spirit," write "God loves man."
To be offers no movement. By using it we slow up the tempo of our sermons, causing them to run down like a clock. No action takes place. People get lost in our abstractions. Nothing happens to that will we are trying to capture.
A Saturday Review of Literature cartoon pictures a couple studying the bill board in front of a movie theater. They note the critics' glowing comments: "Superb!" "A Must!" "Brilliant!" "Touching!" Turning to her escort, the woman says, "I wonder if it's any good." This cartoon illustrates but one aspect of an important general rule: use adjectives and adverbs sparingly.
But let us not forget the act that, more than any other, yields a vigorous style. Cross out the excess words. Throw out the verbal baggage that fails to give movement. Many of our phrases and sentences halt the onward march of our listeners' thinking. When that stops, other impressions rush in for recognition and we lose those listeners. Tempt your hearers with many such dead spots, and you have a dull sermon.
Pick up your pencil. In the sentence "It seems to me that members should sup port this project," cross out the first five words. Instead of saying "It has come to my attention that many ministers support the cause," say "Many ministers sup port the cause." Why say "I am convinced in my own mind that the practice of gambling breeds criminals," when you can say "Gambling breeds criminals"?
A pencil and 30 minutes of work can transform a sermon from one that puts parishioners to sleep to one they can't help listening to.
Now go through next Sabbath's sermon with that deleting pencil.
