Yesterday, I preached my annual Lincoln Sermon in the congregation I serve. By my count, it is my 16th such sermon in honor of the United States' 16th President.
It all happened quite by chance. A few years ago, when I was a ministry intern during my seminary years, I happened to be preaching on Jesus' Sermon on the Plain from the Gospel of Luke. The Biblical text reminded me of Abraham Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address, perhaps because it was President's Day weekend, and I included a long section in my sermon comparing Jesus' words and Lincoln's.
The response was overwhelmingly positive -- even beyond the sometimes obligatory, "Nice sermon, pastor," comments that preachers often receive after worship services. Several encouraged me to look for other opportunities to talk about Lincoln and faith again.
Looking back, I'm not sure if I touched a hunger in their own hearts or if they were responding to my passion, or both. Lincoln is a popular figure, who continues to attract broad interest and sell books (as per a common publishing joke that the ideal title to market based on American's typical purchasing habits would be Lincoln's Doctor's Dog). Certainly, I was sharing my passion, as I have studied Lincoln for many years, reading hundreds of books about him and the Civil War era since I was in elementary school.
Then, in the next few months, while researching a paper on sermons preached after Lincoln's assassination (for a course in the history of American sermons), I discovered that pastors in the early 20th Century frequently offered Lincoln sermons. At that time, Lincoln's Birthday was a federal holiday, which perhaps encouraged the phenomenon even more. In the 1940s, Edgar DeWitt Jones, a Disciples minister who wrote a couple of books about Lincoln and frequently preached about him (so much so that there is a stained glass window of Lincoln in the congregation he long served), estimated based on newspaper announcements that between 5,000 and 10,000 sermons about Abraham Lincoln were preached each year. I even discovered that he had once won an award for preaching the best Lincoln sermon.
That was all of the encouragement I needed. While I was confident that it was no longer common for ministers to preach about Lincoln, I decided that I needed to try. It would merge two of my greatest passions -- faith and Lincoln. So I looked for an opportunity the next February to prepare and preach a full Lincoln sermon, which came in a student chapel. Ironically, one of the occasional attenders at those weekly services was a member of a congregation that I had joined, and she let it be known that I needed to preach that sermon on a Sunday morning there. And so, twice that winter, I offered lessons of faith based on Abraham Lincoln's experiences as president in the War Department Telegraph Office.
Again, the response was overwhelmingly positive. The Senior Minister said that as long as I was in that congregation, which eventually elected me to serve as an elder and called me as their first Youth Minister, I should preach a Lincoln sermon each year, which I did. When I was called to be a pastor elsewhere, I continued the practice on my own. And over the years, I have sought insight into faith development, religious commemoration, the use of sacred scripture, and matters of human agency -- including a recognition of our imperfection -- drawing upon examples from the life of Abraham Lincoln and the Bible.
A few years ago, an essay by Fred Craddock, long an excellent example of and teacher of great preaching, appeared in a book of Best Advice for beginning pastors. Entitled "The Signature Sermon," it suggested that each preacher should offer a sermon each year that encapsulates the defining purpose of her or his ministry, within the context of a congregation's ministry and the wider ministry of the church. To Craddock's mind, this sermon would be mostly the same year after year, but the repetition would allow the congregation to better celebrate their shared ministry. In fact, he suggests that it be one of the most heavily promoted events of the year.
Each year, I write a different sermon, but in some ways I think that my annual Lincoln Sermon lives up to Craddock's idea. It certainly highlights my understanding of Biblical interpretation and Christian theology, using a broad variety of learning and experience to continue a lifelong process of increasing insight into the divine wisdom and guidance of the Bible. Even more, it offers a personal example of something that I emphasize in my ministry of encouragement and guidance for other people of faith: an important part of faith is following our passions.
Over the years, I've come to believe that each minister should find some sort of "signature sermon" or "signature part of ministry" that they explicitly highlight at least once each year. After a couple of years, people in our ministry context should come to expect it and maybe even look forward to this "signature" event. This isn't because the minister is riding some tired hobbyhorse again (unfortunately, many ministers have a bad habit of doing this too), but because we are publicly sharing our ministry in a way that encapsulates the heart and passion of why we serve.
When we do this, we offer others a chance to express positive appreciation of our ministry in a specific way. Often ministers are praised "for all you do," which is nice, but only goes so far. Here is a way for people to celebrate a vital part of the minister's service and, probably, identity by name.
More than this, you will model and share some of the passion that is at the heart of your faith and your discernment. Sometimes we forget that passion is often an attractive quality, and people usually appreciate someone else's passion (at least to a point), even if they do not completely share it in its particulars. And, despite a variety of cultural encouragement for people to truly be themselves, the hard truth is that most of us feel discouraged from following our passions, especially if they seem outside of the norm or just downright odd. A church that celebrates the broadness of the gifts of God needs to offer a counter-cultural endorsement of this variety of healthy gifts and passions that can enrich our lives and our communities when they are shared. (Of course, not every passion or self-identified gift is from God, which is why a minister's example of discernment is important.)
Even more, this opportunity to revisit your signature sermon or signature act of ministry each year can provide the minister with a chance to deepen and grow in that area. The act of highlighting it can often lead to reflection and learning. It might allow the minister to not only showcase a passion, but further develop it. It probably will not only allow some self-affirmation, but probably an even better understanding how it is such a vital part of one's identity as a blessed child of God.
This final benefit has been the most wonderful surprise of preaching a Lincoln Sermon each year. In my most honest moments, I have shared that it is my most personal sermon each year and the one that I explicitly preach for myself. In part, it grows out of an intellectual truth. I know that my personal development and understanding of my context and the wider world have been immeasurably shaped by my serious study over the years of both the Bible and the life of Abraham Lincoln. Further, the insights I have learned while studying each of them have usually been insightful in the study of the other. More poignantly, though, it is an admission that I usually have things to share in the Lincoln Sermon that I, as a child of God still growing in faith, need to hear.
All of these things seemed to be at work again this year as I prepared and then preached my signature sermon. There was affirmation, including someone who said how much fun it was to see my passion. There were requests for copies to read again and to share with others. I believe I provided some good food for thought and even a couple of spiritual questions to ponder as I was teaching about things related to Lincoln and Christian heritage. And I learned at least one important thing that I think God wanted me to hear. As long as these things keep happening, I'll keep preparing and preaching a Lincoln Sermon each year.
It all happened quite by chance. A few years ago, when I was a ministry intern during my seminary years, I happened to be preaching on Jesus' Sermon on the Plain from the Gospel of Luke. The Biblical text reminded me of Abraham Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address, perhaps because it was President's Day weekend, and I included a long section in my sermon comparing Jesus' words and Lincoln's.
The response was overwhelmingly positive -- even beyond the sometimes obligatory, "Nice sermon, pastor," comments that preachers often receive after worship services. Several encouraged me to look for other opportunities to talk about Lincoln and faith again.
Looking back, I'm not sure if I touched a hunger in their own hearts or if they were responding to my passion, or both. Lincoln is a popular figure, who continues to attract broad interest and sell books (as per a common publishing joke that the ideal title to market based on American's typical purchasing habits would be Lincoln's Doctor's Dog). Certainly, I was sharing my passion, as I have studied Lincoln for many years, reading hundreds of books about him and the Civil War era since I was in elementary school.
Then, in the next few months, while researching a paper on sermons preached after Lincoln's assassination (for a course in the history of American sermons), I discovered that pastors in the early 20th Century frequently offered Lincoln sermons. At that time, Lincoln's Birthday was a federal holiday, which perhaps encouraged the phenomenon even more. In the 1940s, Edgar DeWitt Jones, a Disciples minister who wrote a couple of books about Lincoln and frequently preached about him (so much so that there is a stained glass window of Lincoln in the congregation he long served), estimated based on newspaper announcements that between 5,000 and 10,000 sermons about Abraham Lincoln were preached each year. I even discovered that he had once won an award for preaching the best Lincoln sermon.
That was all of the encouragement I needed. While I was confident that it was no longer common for ministers to preach about Lincoln, I decided that I needed to try. It would merge two of my greatest passions -- faith and Lincoln. So I looked for an opportunity the next February to prepare and preach a full Lincoln sermon, which came in a student chapel. Ironically, one of the occasional attenders at those weekly services was a member of a congregation that I had joined, and she let it be known that I needed to preach that sermon on a Sunday morning there. And so, twice that winter, I offered lessons of faith based on Abraham Lincoln's experiences as president in the War Department Telegraph Office.
Again, the response was overwhelmingly positive. The Senior Minister said that as long as I was in that congregation, which eventually elected me to serve as an elder and called me as their first Youth Minister, I should preach a Lincoln sermon each year, which I did. When I was called to be a pastor elsewhere, I continued the practice on my own. And over the years, I have sought insight into faith development, religious commemoration, the use of sacred scripture, and matters of human agency -- including a recognition of our imperfection -- drawing upon examples from the life of Abraham Lincoln and the Bible.
A few years ago, an essay by Fred Craddock, long an excellent example of and teacher of great preaching, appeared in a book of Best Advice for beginning pastors. Entitled "The Signature Sermon," it suggested that each preacher should offer a sermon each year that encapsulates the defining purpose of her or his ministry, within the context of a congregation's ministry and the wider ministry of the church. To Craddock's mind, this sermon would be mostly the same year after year, but the repetition would allow the congregation to better celebrate their shared ministry. In fact, he suggests that it be one of the most heavily promoted events of the year.
Each year, I write a different sermon, but in some ways I think that my annual Lincoln Sermon lives up to Craddock's idea. It certainly highlights my understanding of Biblical interpretation and Christian theology, using a broad variety of learning and experience to continue a lifelong process of increasing insight into the divine wisdom and guidance of the Bible. Even more, it offers a personal example of something that I emphasize in my ministry of encouragement and guidance for other people of faith: an important part of faith is following our passions.
Over the years, I've come to believe that each minister should find some sort of "signature sermon" or "signature part of ministry" that they explicitly highlight at least once each year. After a couple of years, people in our ministry context should come to expect it and maybe even look forward to this "signature" event. This isn't because the minister is riding some tired hobbyhorse again (unfortunately, many ministers have a bad habit of doing this too), but because we are publicly sharing our ministry in a way that encapsulates the heart and passion of why we serve.
When we do this, we offer others a chance to express positive appreciation of our ministry in a specific way. Often ministers are praised "for all you do," which is nice, but only goes so far. Here is a way for people to celebrate a vital part of the minister's service and, probably, identity by name.
More than this, you will model and share some of the passion that is at the heart of your faith and your discernment. Sometimes we forget that passion is often an attractive quality, and people usually appreciate someone else's passion (at least to a point), even if they do not completely share it in its particulars. And, despite a variety of cultural encouragement for people to truly be themselves, the hard truth is that most of us feel discouraged from following our passions, especially if they seem outside of the norm or just downright odd. A church that celebrates the broadness of the gifts of God needs to offer a counter-cultural endorsement of this variety of healthy gifts and passions that can enrich our lives and our communities when they are shared. (Of course, not every passion or self-identified gift is from God, which is why a minister's example of discernment is important.)
Even more, this opportunity to revisit your signature sermon or signature act of ministry each year can provide the minister with a chance to deepen and grow in that area. The act of highlighting it can often lead to reflection and learning. It might allow the minister to not only showcase a passion, but further develop it. It probably will not only allow some self-affirmation, but probably an even better understanding how it is such a vital part of one's identity as a blessed child of God.
This final benefit has been the most wonderful surprise of preaching a Lincoln Sermon each year. In my most honest moments, I have shared that it is my most personal sermon each year and the one that I explicitly preach for myself. In part, it grows out of an intellectual truth. I know that my personal development and understanding of my context and the wider world have been immeasurably shaped by my serious study over the years of both the Bible and the life of Abraham Lincoln. Further, the insights I have learned while studying each of them have usually been insightful in the study of the other. More poignantly, though, it is an admission that I usually have things to share in the Lincoln Sermon that I, as a child of God still growing in faith, need to hear.
All of these things seemed to be at work again this year as I prepared and then preached my signature sermon. There was affirmation, including someone who said how much fun it was to see my passion. There were requests for copies to read again and to share with others. I believe I provided some good food for thought and even a couple of spiritual questions to ponder as I was teaching about things related to Lincoln and Christian heritage. And I learned at least one important thing that I think God wanted me to hear. As long as these things keep happening, I'll keep preparing and preaching a Lincoln Sermon each year.
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