The worst sound to hear in the middle of a bible reading

Pages turning.

If you hear a lot of pages turning in the middle of a bible reading then it is a sign that you’ve made a mistake.

The problem isn’t that people are still using traditional paperback scriptures. In fact, this is tremendous.

The problem isn’t that people are opening up to the bible passages being read in church. In fact, this is fantastic.

The problem is that the bible reader didn’t wait long enough.

The people weren’t given enough of an opportunity to locate the passage before the congregational leader launched into their public reading.

So, while people bringing their bibles, opening their bibles and using their bibles is the precise opposite of a problem, you need to ensure that those who have arrived to church with a analogue bible have the chance to crack open God’s word and follow along in their bibles.

Incorporating the unexpected

My home church, for a matter of months, had a possum periodically enter the sanctuary and waltz across a support-beam.

From memory, it was first discovered when the marsupial was pointed out mid-sermon by the preacher. 

Needless to say, the critter was unexpected.

Last week at church, so I was later informed (we didn’t attend because we were away), there was a fire evacuation mid-sermon.

Again, this was unexpected.

Given enough time in church, you’ll encounter any number of church interruptions.

Maybe someone collapses.

Perhaps someone turns up drunk.

(I’ve been in both situations above)

But, a quality of a good church will be the way they respond to the interruption.

Do they respond well in the moment?

Do they respond well in the follow up?

Are they capable to, reasonably, fold the incident into something going forward?

While I would hope that most churches have contingency plans in place for the regular or predictable interruptions, it’s the ability for a church to utilise the unexpected which makes for a powerful connection with the gospel.

How should a youth group or church respond to a traumatic event on the other side of the world?

Event.

Reporting.

Reaction.

Reaction to the reaction.

This is the modern news-cycle.

So, how should a church respond to a newsworthy event?

Most of the time, if the event is detected from the congregation personally or geographically, I don’t think there needs to be much more than an acknowledgement.

Name the tragedy. 

Pray about the event.

But, business should proceeded like normal.

No radical change of plans is required.

Of course, this won’t be the case if it’s an event like 911.

Then, all your plans get tossed into the air.

But, not every event is 911.

Most aren’t.

For example, the death of Charlie Kirk isn’t a schedule destroyer if you’re in Australia.

Now, I write that without the intention of offending anyone.

Yes, his death was horrific.

Absolutely, his murder was newsworthy.

But, his assassination must be held in perspective. 

Not one person will have known Charlie Kirk personally.

Not one person will have gone to one of his events.

And, if we change our plans because of a disconnected event on the other side of the world, then we lessen the impact for nearer tragedies.

Personal tragedies.

Community shaping events.

These should redefine what you are doing.

Then, you need to provide more than just an acknowledgement and an additional prayer point.

You need to provide support.

Physical support. 

Emotional support.

Spiritual support.

You need to provide space.

Physical space. 

Emotional space.

Spiritual space.

You need to reinforce the basis of the gospel.

Goodness.

Trust.

Grace.

These are the ways to respond to tragedy.

And, if your going to set aside your original plans, these are the pillars which you build the new plans around - support, space and the gospel.

Is it better to follow up a stinker or a banger?

Every Sunday falls seven days after a Sunday and, in another seven days, another Sunday will roll around.

This is the cycle of church work.

This Sunday’s sermon follows the last Sunday’s  sermon… Which will be followed by next Sunday’s.. And the following… And the following…

So, is it better to follow a stinker of a sermon or a banger?

I’ve done both.

I’ve got no doubt I’ve put those I worked with in the same position.

If course, usually, it won’t be a concern.

Most sermons are… just fine.

Not extraordinarily fantastic.

Not tremendously awful.

Just the typical-calibre sermon that gets delivered 45 times a year.

But, what if you are stepping up the to the pulpit the Sunday after a preaching outlier?

Would you rather be following up a great sermon or one which should be quickly forgotten?

Now, usually, you won’t provide a judgement on the quality of the preceding sermon (especially if it was below par), but the preceding homily-serving will inevitably impact your sermon.

You can build off the back of a memorable sermon.

You can let last Sunday’s sermon lay the platform for you to launch off.

This is the best way to follow up a banger of a predecessor.

Or, you can provide an additional point if you thought the last sermon was a bit thin and then launch into your new offering.

For the sake of your congregation, you’d rather follow on from a good-to-great sermon, but there will inevitably be Sundays when the last pitch from the pulpit was  more of a strike-out than a home-run.

Nonetheless, you can (and should) be faithful, so the person who follows you will be doing so from a firm foundation.

How paying attention can look different now

What does paying attention look like in 2025?

In the classroom, this will look like a student who is off their electronic device (or using it productively) and working on task.

In the pews, may look like someone taking notes during the sermon with their bible open on their lap.

But, if I am paying attention and engaged in a sermon or bible study, it may not look like it.

Chances are, I will be on my phone.

On it, I will have my bible.

And every translation of the bible.

I will take notes.

I will jot down ideas for future Tiny Bible Bits.

You will know if I’m engaged because I will be looking up things online.

I will be quickly chasing rabbit-holes.

I will be checking anything which does sit quite right.

I will be confirming speculations which pop into my mind.

A generation ago this would have been rude.

Without knowing what I’m doing, I may look distracted.

But, this can be how paying attention can look in 2025.

Do we consume the bible like we do TikTok?

My daughters, for a while, had been asking to watch the Marvel films catalogue.

Consequently, over the last few months, we’ve been (selectively) working our way through the MCU.

At least I have been with my youngest.

My eldest, who wanted to watch the films more, has barely been able to sit through an entire film.

The reason is simple, and in part, is the reason she wanted to watch the movies in the first place.

She’s seen the shorts online.

She’s viewed small snippets of the best bits.

She’s been exposed to the most action-packed, humour-quipped, tear-jerking moments.

But, she cannot stomach the plot which connects these fragments.

She isn’t prepared to put in the effort to get the underlying plot which adds the meaning.

Do we consume the bible in the same way?

Do we just expose ourselves to the greatest hits?

Are we just familiar with the Sunday shorts?

When we’re younger, this is definitely the way we serve up the scriptures.

Bite-sized.

Easily-consumable.

Hopefully, alongside a story which has a drama or a craft activity.

But, we exclude some of the passages which add depth to these passages.

We cut Deuteronomy.

We skim over Isaiah and Jeremiah.

We leave Romans for “when they’re older”.

But, in doing this, we reduce the bible to a series of disconnected shorts.

We rob the bible of an overarching salvation narrative.

Worse still, we condition our young people to only be able to consume the bible in easily-digestible chunks.

The obstacles when you’re not acclimatised

While my wife and I were in Europe over the last school holidays we did something which we always find a challenge - we hired a car.

Of course, the major challenge for an Australian driving in Europe is that you need to drive on the opposite side of the road.

Thankfully, after a few days we both adjusted (even if I did routinely turn on the windscreen wipers when I intended to indicate a turn), but the first few hours were hairy for both driver and passenger.

Everything was just a little more difficult.

Everything required just a lot more concentration.

Because everything was unfamiliar.

Whenever you do something new, or for the first time in a long while, everything takes a while to fall into place.

It’s true for driving.

It’s true for teaching.

It’s true for preaching.

It takes a while for your body to acclimatise to the rigours of a new activity.

But the place I most encounter this is whenever I ride a bike.

Frankly, I’m not brilliant on a bicycle.

I can ride, but I only ever do so sporadically - and usually in Europe.

This last time, my body reminded me that I was not acclimatised to the physical toll that the task would bring.

But, no matter if it is driving on the right side of the road, riding in the saddle, in the classroom or at the pulpit, there are consequences of unfamiliarity.

Everything is more pronounced.

Small things are off-putting.

You lack the ability to look far ahead.

You overly rely upon expert advice.

You require greater preparation.

You’re more drained after the activity.

Every stage is prolonged.

No matter what it is, but especially in the areas of teaching and preaching, new practitioners must be warned about the snares of unfamiliarity.

This is especially true if they are used to watching experienced veterans.

For, as it takes more time to get ready, you get rocked by the unexpected and you lack the foresight to see trouble approaching, you need a gentle reminder that your mind and body will acclimatise.

The modern question which is only getting louder

In the past, you may question the originality of something you hear in church.

Perhaps you wonder if they read their outline in a book.

Maybe they have heard it in another sermon.

In the near past, these questions have only gotten louder.

With the invention of the internet, the net for “inspiration” has widened exponentially.

Now, with AI, the net is again being redesigned.

But, this kicks open the door for everything now to be placed into question.

“Is that AI?” I suspect, will be a query which will reverberate around churches far more than any previous ponderance of originality. 

When you’re unknowingly the illustration

I’m not Taylor Swift.

I am not even famous.

I am not a minister’s kid.

I’m not even married to a preacher.

As a result, I’ve probably never unknowingly appeared as a sermon illustration.

But I know of times when something I’ve done has been mentioned.

I’m aware of conversations I’ve been involved in weaselling their way into sermons.

Of course, I’ve been the primary focus of illustrations that I’ve used while preaching.

But I wonder how I would feel if I stumbled across a sermon where I was an illustration.

Obviously, the underlying point would be a significant factor.

Was I a positive or negative example?

Was I an illustration of foolishness or wisdom?

Was I a picture of selfishness or faithfulness?

Chances are, if I get randomly mentioned in a small western Sydney church, I’ll never know - no matter what context or what connection may or may not have previously existed.

I’m curious of what episodes of my life would even make it into a sermon…

Nonetheless, whenever we hear an illustrative tale woven into a homily, we should be reminded of the way God also works in our life and that, potentially, the way we act in church, school, university, home or church can equally become illustrative fodder.

Predictably is a sign of success

If you’re tying to teach something, launching a surprise shouldn’t be the aim.

In fact, the aim should be predictability.

No matter if it is in the classroom or the pulpit…

Your content should be predictable.

Your delivery should be predictable.

Your links between points should be predictable.

While I don’t want to downplay creativity or innovation, these should be the trimmings affixed to a rather orthodox lesson.

A marker that your lesson has been effective is that your listeners/students can make the connection between the segments of your lesson without significant assistance.

For, they should be able to see how your points hang together.

They should be able to see how one leads to another.

Better yet, they should be able to predict what direction your lesson or sermon is taking while you are still in the middle of delivering it.

A sign of an ineffective teacher or preacher is if they regularly take a twist that no one sees coming.

The reason is simple.

You should, for the vast majority of your teaching, be sticking to the tried and tested points and techniques.

There’s a good reason they exist.

Doing so will result in more effective lessons and, ultimately, far more retention of your content because they aren’t being rocked by a theological, intellectual or pedagogical roller coaster.

What preaching taught me about teaching

During parent/teacher interviews, I’ll readily admit that I’m the loudest, most energetic, teacher in the school.

I’m sure it’s the residual enthusiasm I had from my time in youth ministry.

I was also the loudest, most energetic, scripture teacher.

I was also fairly boisterous in the pulpit (but not over the top).

When it comes to the classroom, I subscribe to what John Wesley (supposedly) said about his preaching.

Allegedly (but probably not) Wesley stated that God, through His Spirit, would set his preaching on fire, and people - if nothing else - would come to watch him burn.

I teach in the same way.

My classes are entertaining.

They are loud.

They are often odd.

They are smattered with quirkiness.

And, hopefully, students can’t - if anything else - look away.

This is why, in some of my senior classes, I’ll pick up the odd orphaned student.

It turns out, if nothing else, that I put on a good show…

The prayer you don’t have to pray but hear often

There is a prayer which I’m sure, if you’ve spent any significant amount of time around churches, that you’ve heard uttered before.

And, while it is said with the best of intentions, it is completely needless.

The prayer is for God to be present.

These words are not required.

Why?

Because God is present everywhere.

It goes along with the omniscience of God…

God, by His nature, is present. Everywhere. All the time.

What we should pray, and what I think is usually intended to be prayed, is the following… that we should be aware of the presence of God.

This is a POWERFUL prayer.

This is a TRANSFORMATIVE prayer.

This is a prayer which we NEED.

We need to be aware of God’s presence, allowing it to shape our actions, words, thoughts and worship.

Be it at the start of a church service, bible study, meeting, confrontation or any other occasion when we tend to invite Gods presence, praying for mindfulness of the reality of God’s presence will be far more useful.

Your ministry in the pews on a Sunday

Tomorrow, like most Sundays, I’ll be listening to a sermon.

While I’ve stood in the pulpit and delivered sermons plenty of times before, I’ve been the recipient of a sermon far more than I’ve been the deliverer.

Every so often I’ll gaze out at my fellow congregants during the sermon.

Some are listening. 

Some are zoned out.

I am, honestly, usually bouncing between the two.

Of course, to the one up the front, the attentiveness of those in the pews is not a mystery.

For, you listen with your body, not just your ears.

You listen with your eyes.

You listen with your arms.

You listen with your hands.

Your eyes drift.

Your arms cross.

Your hands either fidget or cease taking notes.

Your body testifies to your attentiveness.

And, your body can perform a ministry to the preacher.

You can be an encouragement.

The manner you listen on a Sunday morning speaks loudly to the one up the front.

Perhaps, I’m not the only one who needs to consider the message I’m sending to the messenger on a Sunday…

The overflow stays with them

In all my subjects I teach a lot of details.

Far too many for any student to be able to remember.

Fortunately, the majority of things I want my students to be able to recall are the concepts of my subjects. 

This is what really matters.

I’d they understand the overarching principals behind the facts, then they will be in a better position to be able to accurately explain what my subject is about and be able to apply these concepts to other subjects and areas in their life.

But, in reality, over time most of what I teach will be lost.

I don’t expect my students to be able to recall the seven ways which you’ll die in trench warfare, the seven reasons for World War 2 or the six deviations on the understanding of the humanity of Jesus.

The same is true in a church setting.

No one remembers the details of every sermon they hear. 

No one is expected to be able to recount every aspect of a bible study.

The things you remember - in both the classroom and church - are the extras.

The overflows of who you are as a teacher or a minister are the things which travel with people far beyond the months/years they physically spend with you.

Your character.

Your enthusiasm.

Your care.

These are the things which really matter.

This is what makes someone look back at you fondly.

These will be the traits of every one of your favourite teachers and ministers.

These will make an impact on the rest of their lives.

The details within a lesson or sermon will fade quickly, but the overflow of you - the way they were welcomed, or included, or supported, or inspired - this can last decades after you have gone.

Interesting is not the aim of the pulpit

Hopefully, when I come away from hearing a sermon, I don’t have either of the following reactions…

That was interesting.

That was clever.

Neither of these should be my lingering reaction.

Why?

Because I shouldn’t, primarily, be academically impressed by what was shared from the pulpit on a Sunday.

Of course, everything should hold up to academic scrutiny, but I shouldn’t feel like I’ve just heard an impressive university lecture.

A sermon should encourage.

A sermon should convict.

A sermon should be faithful to the biblical text.

Most of all, a sermon should point someone towards Jesus.

What it need not be is an intellectual spectacle or an intriguing thought experiment.

The best ways to AI your content

AI is a highway to laziness.

This post is not about using AI instead of your brain or resourcefulness.

But, AI can play an important (but truthfully not vital) role in both the classroom and the pulpit.

Of course, AI won’t be able to differentiate any automatically generated content to your specific context.

It won’t know your class.

It won’t know your teens.

It won’t know your congregation.

It won’t know their issues.

It won’t know their personalities.

It won’t know their histories.

But, AI can help a few areas.

Outline.

Edit.

Tighten.

Titles.

Demographic angles.

AI can provide a potential structure to your sermon or lesson, which you then use as a launching pad and insert all your own personalised content.

AI can absolutely improve your content by editing the grammar and - if prompted to NOT CHANGE THE MEANING IN ANY WAY - can help tighten your content by anywhere up to a third.

Better yet, if you prompt AI to explain why it made the changes that it did, you can control the edits which you leave in and which you ignore.

Once you have your content, you can ask AI to generate a few titles for your lesson or sermon. While these may be the ones you use, at worst, they will provide you with an indication of how your content would be interpreted. Perhaps, this will give you a heads-up if your content is difficult to follow clearly.

Finally, you can prompt AI with different demographics and ask how the topic may apply to them, potentially opening up relevant avenues for you to explore on your own.

Importantly, nothing above tells you to just punch in a prompt and hit print.

You still need to do work.

You still need to craft the content.

The process of creating is as important as the final product.

But, AI can helpfully nudge you in a direction or show you how your content can be improved.

Would putting the point first make a difference?

Last Sunday I was building towards a point with the youngsters at church.

It wasn’t - I grant you - a life-changing point, but hopefully a somewhat coherent point nonetheless.

Then, as I was about to transition from my linking activity to the meat of my lesson a sky writer was spotted in the sky.

Understandably, this threw a significant spanner in the works.

That the sky writer loosely tied into my original game didn’t help.

Frankly, it hasn’t been the first time that a lesson of mine has been derailed.

Unexpected things happen.

Focus wains.

The best of plans unravel.

Everyone who has taught for a significant time has experienced this.

So, should lessons be flipped if you can’t ensure a set time of productivity?

Instead of ending with the main point, should you start with it?

Instead of unveiling your point it slowly, should you just reveal it up front?

While it may be harder to potentially plan the lesson, I think a subtle change of language would help bridge the main point with the lesson content.

Instead of saying/thinking “let me show/tell you how what we’ve done fits together”, now the lesson should be structured around the concept “now I’ve told you the main point, let me show/tell you why it makes sense.”

For occasions where your timeframe or focus may not be assured, putting your main point up front may provide you with a way to avoid leaving the lesson without feeling like you inadequately expressed your point.

Quality over quantity comes at a cost

I’m not massively attached to every word I write.

I do write a fair few of them.

I’d like to think that a decent slice of them are, at least, put together in an okay manner.

But, I’m not often pushed against a word or time limit.

I can, usually, ramble on until I’m done.

But, this isn’t the case if you’re submitting an academic response.

And it’s not the case if your sermon must conclude before the following service in the same worship space begins.

When backed against a fairly firm deadline, sometimes words need to be sacrificed.

Yesterday, I looked over an essay which could have used a good pruning.

It was fair in the content, but it always seems had a major way to be improvised.

Cut. One. Third.

The task involved a response to the driving question, but with the caveat that they needed to use two examples. This student had used three.

One should have been jettisoned and the allotted words used to strengthen the other two paragraphs.

But, this would come at a cost.

A cost that you need to delete your work.

A cost that your effort won’t see the light of day.

A cost that your your long diatribe can be improved with e shorter, tighter, response.

In the context of a sermon, this may come at the cost of words which you feel are “inspired.”

You may need to set aside words which you worked hard to craft and weave together.

But, sometimes, pruning is the best thing for your message and your audience.

When a book you’re not inspired by can still be useful

I’m a book hoarder.

My wife hates it.

Consequently, I now have three book stashes until we have more space for the collection to be reunited.

Of the hundreds of books I own, I’ve read (probably) just over half.

Of course, a significant portion of these are reference books like commentaries - nonetheless - it shows that I love a book.

If the book is useful beyond looking grand upon my bookcase, all the better.

I write this because I understand the inspiration a book can provide.

But, when you’re a part of a preaching unit this literary inspiration can cause problems.

Why?

Because, if you get fired up by a book outline then everyone else needs to, at minimum, skim over the text.

Now, hopefully, this doesn’t ruffle any theological feathers. 

But, what do you do if the spark of inspiration isn’t contagious?

What if someone else outright dislikes the book?

What if they fundamentally disagree with the book?

In the past, I’ve found myself leading a bible study based upon a “theologically progressive” book.

In short, we read a passage each week and then discussed why we didn’t agree.

But, you can’t do that productively from the pulpit.

Everyone in the pulpit should be (pun intended) preaching from the same playbook.

Nonetheless, there is one way a book can help guide your preaching.

Outlines.

Chapter division.

Overarching topics.

These can help you segment a passage of scripture without dictating the direction that a sermon will take.

Sometimes, the most - possibly only - inspiration you should get is from the contents page.

You should preach the well-worn path at Christmas

Yesterday I did a short kid’s talk in church about St Nicholas. It was nothing extraordinary, I’d used it in various other settings.

In other years I’ve given a short spiel on the importance of the incarnation referencing one of my pets, explained the significance of the symbols of Christmas - like the candy cane or the Christmas tree, or led a trivia congest in order to show that many of the elements we now have of the nativity scene are not actually in the bible.

These are my four go-to Christmas talks.

Usually, when it comes to Christmas, there are a few well-worn paths your preaching can follow.

The characters of Christmas.

The importance of the incarnation.

The advent themes - hope, joy, peace and love.

Apologetics about the Christmas accounts.

Christmas through the Old Testament.

I’m sure there’s more common Christmas traits to explore, but with a theme that you need to return to annually, eventually the well will seem dry.

Of course, the plain gospel account will always suffice. No tricks. No gimmicks. Just Jesus.

And, on a Christmas service when you’ve got a plethora of non-regular churchgoers, the simpler the sermon - usually - the better it is for everyone involved.

But, once you’ve preached on Christmas for the fortieth year consecutively, surely you may be tempted to want to step away from the well-worn path.

If this is the case… don’t.

Stick to the simple.

While you may be in the planning stage and seeking a new angle, preach what is both expected and only points people to Jesus.