What Makes a Great Sermon?
What makes a great sermon? Probably no two people would
answer that question exactly alike. In fact, the same
person might not give exactly the same answer if asked on
two different occasions. Different ages and different
teachers have answered differently. Change the question
slightly (What makes a great speech?), and at least four
different answers have come down from the classical
rhetoricians. The Sophists gauged the greatness of a speech
by the results that it obtained. Plato judged the greatness
of a speech according to the truthfulness of its content.
Quintillian conferred greatness based on the quality of
life of the speaker. Aristotle’s mark of greatness was
organization. All four are essential to a great sermon.
Surely a major requisite for a great sermon is its impact
on the pew. The best organized truthful irrelevancy
presented by the best of men fails as a sermon because it
has no application for the hearers. Charles Spurgeon felt
so strongly about the necessity for application that he
reportedly said that the sermon doesn’t begin until the
application begins. Paul taught doctrine, but he always
called for it to be applied to life. Anything less than
that is not Biblical truth. A preacher who fails to
meaningfully apply God’s truth to his hearers is like a
physician who gives a sick patient a lecture on health but
fails to provide any healing medication.
But organization can be no less important, because, without
organization, truthful relevant material presented by the
best of men has no hope of impacting the pew. Organization
is both a road map and a battle plan. It keeps the sermon
on track from point of origination to destination; it keeps
the hearer and the preacher marching together toward
victory (conclusion) without distraction to the right or
left. Each step follows naturally upon its predecessor and
each is related to the whole so that the conclusion is not
lost in confusion.
But what good is organization if that which is presented is
not God’s truth? A sermon based on human wisdom is like cut
flowers that fade before the close of day. There is no
sense of the ageless struggles of the people of God. There
is no coming to worship before the throne of the Creator of
the universe and the Giver of grace. There is no
proclamation of redemption because there is no Redeemer.
There is no link forged between birth and death. It fails,
and in its wake leaves nothing but despair.
Even if the standards of Plato, Aristotle, and the Sophists
are admitted, surely Quintillian was wrong. Can a preacher
not preach a great sermon though he himself is a scoundrel?
Not if he is perceived as a scoundrel. Rightly or wrongly,
it depends more on reputation than on character. Who
listens an more to Jimmy Swaggert on morality? Who now
cares what Jim Bakker says about honesty, integrity, or
morality? On the other hand, have we not all known men
whose eloquence of life and overflowing love enabled their
words to fly straight to our hearts?
Some will argue that God, not man, determines true
greatness. While that is beyond dispute, it should not be
used, as it sometimes is, as an excuse to ignore such
qualities as the impact on the hearer, organization, and
the purity of life and heart of love of the preacher. When
truth is proclaimed in a manner that leads to its
rejection, God is not pleased. Such preaching will not make
God’s list of great sermons.