William M. Taylor

Every sermon should have a distinct object in view. One must preach, not because the Sabbath has come round, and he has to occupy the time somehow, but rather because there is something pressing upon his mind and heart which he feels impelled to proclaim. Some doctrine has taken hold of him with peculiar power, and while he is under the spell of it, he seeks to expound it to his hearers. Some phase of experience has come under his observation as he has been visiting from house to house, or has left its mark upon himself as he has been passing through it; and while yet the impression is distinct, he makes it the theme of public discourse. Some sin has broken out with more than usual virulence in his neighborhood, and he sets the trumpet to his mouth that he may sound a timely alarm. Some department of Christian duty has been neglected by the members of his flock, and with all fidelity and tenderness he seeks to show them its importance, and to set before them the blessed results which would flow from their attention to it. And so as week after week revolves, each Lord’s day’s address has its distinct individuality since he has exerted himself in each to do one thing. This, as it seems to me, is the ideal of the ministry.

Ever, therefore, as you sit down to prepare your discourse, let your question be, “What is my purpose in this sermon?” and do not move a step until you have shaped out before your mind a definite answer to that inquiry. This will save you from that vagueness which chloroforms so many sermons and sends so many hearers to sleep. Set up your goal, and keep it always in sight, so every step you take will bring you nearer to its attainment, and your audience will be at no loss to see what you are driving at. The way to walk in a straight line over a trackless field, is to fix the eye, and keep it fixes, on some object that is stationary and sufficiently elevated, and then to move towards that; and the great preventive of diffuseness and digression in discourse is to have, high and above all other things in your mind, the perception of the purpose which your sermon is designed to fulfill.

But any purpose will not do. You must seek to have an aim whose importance will be sufficient to stimulate your own mind and to retain the attention of your hearers. Avoid all diminutive themes – such as may be discussed and settled in a few sentence; for if you try to make a whole sermon on one of these, you will be tempted to fill up the time with vapid declamation, and will continue to spin away with the wheel of verbal fluency long after the “tow” of thought has been exhausted. That was a wise advice of Dr. James W. Alexander, “Preach on great subjects.” There is something in them to inspire the preacher and to subdue and impress the hearer. Leave the lesser topics for minor occasions – such as the chair of the prayer-meeting or the table of the lecture-room will supply. But let your sermons be elevated in their subjects, and they will be elevating in their influence.

Yet, when you are dealing with a great theme, do not aim at being exhaustive. Leave something for again. Try, rather, to be clear, simple, instructive. You are not writing a treatise which is to contain everything that can be said on every branch of your subject; you are going to address a company of fellow-men, to whom, in all likelihood, you will have many other opportunities of speaking, so let your endeavor be to give one distinct aspect of your theme, leaving other views of it for other occasions. I believe it is a common fault with young preachers to overweight their discourses with a superabundance of material. Their tendency is to put all they know on any subject into the discourse which is treating of that subject. So, in a very short time, they exhaust their own resources, and even before they have done that, they have exhausted the patience of their hearers.

I well remember after I had preached my first sermon in a country church, there was reported to me a criticism which a plain, blunt man had made upon my discourse, which had a world of meaning in it in this connection. My text had been the first verse of the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, “Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,” and I had dealt with justification, with faith, and with peace with God, as if I had resolved not to leave anything unsaid that could be said upon them. On coming out of the church, one of my hearers being asked what he thought of the discourse, replied, “These young preachers are like young delvers, they take thundering big spadefuls!” That witness was true, in my case, and I tried ever afterwards to lighten my discourses. Next to the evil of having nothing in a sermon at all, is that of having too much it in; for in neither case does the hearer carry much away.

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Taken from The Ministry of the Word by William M. Taylor. Available at Trinity Book Service.