Weaving new and more colorful garments

In his Life of Samuel Johnson James Boswell recorded the following inter change between Oliver Goldsmith and Samuel Johnson. Goldsmith said "that he wished for some additional members to the Literary Club, to give it an agreeable variety; for there can now be nothing new among us; we have traveled over one another's minds."

Johnson, however, resented the implication. " 'Sir,' says he, 'you have not traveled over my mind, I promise you!' "

Despite Johnson's confidence in the boundlessness of his mental territories, Goldsmith was the better judge. After years of association these men no longer derived from their discussions the inspiration that had once so stimulated them. They had thoroughly explored one an other's minds. Further conversations would be unproductive of fresh contributions.

Yet we know that they continued to read one another's writings with interest. Why? Their unflagging pleasure in each other's written works cannot be wholly explained by saying that in the seclusion of their studies they constructed entirely new frameworks of thought. Rather, the chief charm of their writings lay in the fact that they wove new garments to clothe the frames that were so familiar. The frame was no longer interesting, but the garments were.

This art of maintaining interest by fresh expression of old truths has application to sermons. Congregations have generally traveled over all the basic Christian truths. The effective preacher is one who clothes these basic truths with new and colorful garments. An old truth takes on new vitality when it is beheld in a new adornment.

The most effective preaching is that in which the preacher develops the theme by means of an analogy that is strikingly fresh. For example, a minister wishes to preach a sermon on the Personal Giving Plan. His congregation has been harangued year after year on the subject of giving until they listen to such sermons unmoved. But the preacher announces his theme as "Crossing the Rubicon. ' He develops the idea that a person's purse is the Rubicon that separates him or her from a full commitment to discipleship. Getting past the purse is the test of a Christian. The minister has his congregation thinking of an old subject in a new way. Giving now means crossing the Rubicon.

Or to consider a more theological subject, the minister might preach on salvation by faith. She might stuff her congregation with terms that have long since become cliche. But if her sermon is to be effective, she must present this fundamental Christian doctrine by means of an analogy that reaches the minds of her hearers in a way that they have never been approached before. She might borrow from Emerson and announce her theme as "Hitching Your Wagon to a Star," and develop the idea as Robert Browning put it in Saul: " 'Tis not what man does which exalts him, but what man would do!"

Because people are not judged by what they achieve but by the spiritual and moral ideals they hold to their hearts throughout life, it behooves them to hitch their wagons to the star of Christ. The direction in which they are being pulled is what saves them, not their attainments.

Unfortunately, to preach consistently with such freshness requires more ability (or more persistence) than most of us possess. Occasionally we may be struck with a happy inspiration, but for the most part we find our minds almost irresistibly drawn to platitudinous channels of thinking and expression as a floating stick is drawn to a vortex. Needless to say, we should, as far as possible, avoid the vortex. "Give them manna fresh from the skies," insisted Spurgeon to his students, "not the same thing over and over again, in the same form ad nauseum, like workhouse bread cut into the same shape all the year round."¹

Fresh as a rainbow

Though we may not always be able to clothe the truths we present in original themes, the least favored of us can raise the level of interest in our sermons and greatly improve their caliber by the use of figurative language. This we can learn to do by assiduous effort and disciplining of thought. In so doing we can make the most commonplace statements as new and fresh as a rainbow dripping with the warm rain of spring.

To be effective preachers, we must to some degree partake of the nature of a poet. As often as possible we must exercise our minds to use analogy to express our thoughts. We must be inventors of similes and metaphors and framers of phrases.

Political speech writer Peggy Noonan suggests that "poetry has everything to do with speeches cadence, rhythm, imagery, sweep, a knowledge that words are magic, that words, like children, have the power to make dance the dullest beanbag of a heart." She has mastered the art of turning "the impulses of the speaker into words that soar. She wrote for Dan Rather ('Autumn has dropped like a fruit') and then became Ronald Reagen's best lyricist (The Challenger crew was pulling us into the future, and we'll continue to follow them')."²

Most of us can hope for only a small measure of attainment in this art, but the extent to which we can develop the capacity for poetic expression will be, largely, the measure of the caliber of our sermons.

There are unlimited ways in which thoughts can be expressed. We might say "Never pass by a thought without testing its possibilities for original expression" or "Never bury a thought in the tomb of triteness when the touch of originality may revive it with a breath of life" or "Never close a thought with an outworn expression if imagination can weave a new and more colorful garment."

George E. Sweazey urges, "Avoid the obvious word in favor of the unexpected one. . . . When you discover a memorable phrase, you can wonder what it evolved from. A sentence like 'Life is supposed to be great' may have gone though several stages before it became 'Life is not a shabby thing we have to grovel through.' Perhaps 'You knew he was a good man when you saw him walk past' had to make many trips through the author's mind before it became 'When he walked, his left foot said 'Amen' and his right foot said 'Hallelujah.' "³

Adding life to the portrait

An abstract statement is like the sketchy outline an artist makes for a portrait. The subject is there, but it is life less. Metaphor and similes drawn from all existence do for the abstract statement what the artist does for the portrait when he adds the touches that give expression to the eyes, character to the face, and life to the subject.

The Bible should be an incentive to the use of figurative language. What a wealth of analogy we find there! The inspiring prophets and teachers of the He brews heard all creation shouting its corroboration of fundamental truths.

Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

And only he who sees takes off his shoes—

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

—E. B. Browning

Here is one of the secrets of the Bible's power to illuminate life. The lights of many analogies are turned upon human experiences and values. Each new metaphor or simile enlarges our understanding and appreciation. Every truth receives new meaning as the great, appreciative minds of the Hebrew prophets scan the heavens and the earth with ears attuned to every voice. If it were not so, their teaching probably would have fallen on unhearing ears. The lifeless, sketchy, outlined truths would have lost much if not all of their meaning.

Jeremiah made vivid a warning by likening those who had been carried into Babylonian captivity to a basket of good figs and the blameworthy who remained in desolate Judah to a basket of naughty figs. The analogies of the good and the naughty figs compelled consideration.

Isaiah intrigued attention to Jehovah's liberal bestowal of blessings upon His unworthy people by likening His actions to a marketplace like no other, one where people barter not neither do they trade, where wine and milk can be purchased "without money and without price."

Ezekiel's vision of a valley of dry bones was an irresistible battering ram of a figure that bludgeoned its way past every barrier of intellectual lethargy into the inner court of the people's attention. Dead in trespasses and sin a platitude? Not to Ezekiel, nor to anyone who heard Ezekiel.

Or turn to the New Testament and study the figures Jesus used to describe the danger of riches or of formalism in religion, or to portray the contrast be tween sin and righteousness. If one were to attempt to cite all the examples of figurative language in the Bible, one would have to reproduce a large portion of its contents.

Try these exercises

But our familiarity with the Bible may have attenuated its power to inspire us to use picturesque language. If so, we shall do well to devote considerable time to the study of the best poetry, concentrating on the use of metaphors and similes. Shakespeare was a master par excellence of fresh and original expression the most inspiring teacher of all for our purpose. Many of his figures of speech would be crass if used from the pulpit they were created to suit the characters from whose lips they issued. But Shakespeare's singular freedom from the invariable adjectives, the stereotyped phrases, and the figurative expressions that have grooved the average mind stimulates his readers to escape the slavery of ready-made diction.

To develop your creativity in the use of language, read one of Shakespeare's plays (The Tempest is excellent for the purpose), underlining all the metaphors and similes that he produced with such striking originality. For each write a simple statement of the basic thought and then create a figure of your own to express the same thought. Such a study is not only profitable but fascinating.

For another exercise, take the opening sentence of your next sermon and see in how many ways you can express the same thought. Then choose the freshest. After that, go over the whole sermon in the same manner. You will revolutionize your preaching! Like the clock, most of us must be wound before we strike. We can produce original figures of speech only through laborious thinking in our studies. Yet we should not be discouraged by this fact. Even the distinguished literati of Dr. Johnson's circle had traversed the circles of each other's minds in spontaneous conversation, leaving all that was fresh and interesting to be created in quiet contemplation. Of course, our capacity for achievement in this art will depend upon our various abilities, but the least among us can hitch our wagons to the Star.

Luther said, "Speak to the cook and you'll hit the king." That is the kind of language the church most needs today—not ordinary language, but language that takes the familiar yet essential truths we have been commissioned to convey and clothes them in colorful garments that will engage the minds of our hearers.