Looking to start a new church or grow your mega-church? Do you feel your sermons aren’t tired enough, cliche’d enough or stale enough? Do you just need a break from sermon-writing? If any of this describes you, then Uncle Luther’s Boilerplate Pop-Christian Sermon template is just what you need to have church like the stars. Simply follow the template below for an awe-inspiring sermon that will be a blessing to both your congregation and your free time.
Scripture Reading: Try not to pick anything your congregation isn’t already familiar with. We recommend Jeremiah 29:11.
Sermon: Step 1: Start by making small talk with your congregation. Keep it light, make a few jokes. Don’t forget to stay relevant by mentioning your newly acquired Starbucks addiction.
Step 2: Tell a story from your most recent trip on an airplane. The story doesn’t have to make sense to your congregation, it just needs to relate somehow in your mind.
Step 3: Pick a point so obscure from the day’s Scripture that it is almost irrelevant. Then, inform your audience that this was just an introduction to a three-part series that you will flesh out over the next few weeks.
Step 4: Drive home your point by re-telling an inspirational nugget you received in a forwarded e-mail that is new to you, but has been going around the Internet for ten years. Pass it off as your own.
Step 5: Issue a challenge to your congregation. This will make both you and your audience feel a sense of accomplishment. It will also provide a great opening question for the start of next week’s sermon.
My wife was a Southern Baptist when we were dating. We taught Sunday School together in a Southern Baptist Church where I was grudgingly a member, but I never fully bought into the theology. I’m a little nervous about this one because of the size of this particular denomination. I wouldn’t want to risk alienating a majority of my readers. But… it has to be said, so here goes…
You might be a Southern Baptist if…
When someone refers to the fathers of the Christian faith you immediately think of Charles Stanley and Billy Graham.
You’re reasonably certain all Catholics are going to Hell.
The altar call at the end of the sermon lasts longer than the sermon itself.
Your lunch is frequently held up by “one last sinner” at church.
Your typical tip at a restaurant consists of a 99 cent tract, a stick of mint chewing gum and the 72 cents you had in your pocket.
Everyone else is wrong.
Your rebuttal when challenged by another Christian is, “That’s not what My Bible says.”
The body and the blood are secondary. It is all about the water, the method of Baptism and whether or not babies should be baptized.
Your entire statement of faith could be summarized by simply saying, “We’re not Catholic and we baptize by immersion.”
You’ve ever referred to a dance as a “foot function.”
You think Jesus’ first miracle was when he turned water into grape juice.
The doors of your church are locked more often than they are open.
You make it a point to pray before any meal at a restaurant—and do so until the food is cold.
You send all your money and resources to support foreign missions, but the homeless five miles from the church remain unfed.
You are pro-life, but there is never a war you don’t support.
I was raised in a Methodist church. I haven’t forgotten who brung me to the dance, but I also haven’t forgotten the laugh riot that is the UMC. Ready… Get set…
You might be a Methodist if… (Go!)
The building fund is more important than the tithe.
You believe Jesus saves people from their sins— you just aren’t sure everyone has sin and needs saving.
You believe women can and should be ordained— but you don’t want to ordain them.
No one in the congregation actually knows what the denomination as a whole believes.
Your church has to have a traditional and contemporary service, otherwise World War III will break out over the music used during worship.
You have been in the same church all your life but have gone through 27 new pastors.
You have never been a Catholic, yet carry around the same amount of guilt.
A committee meeting is required to determine whether or not to repair a broken window in the sanctuary.
You can somehow make every situation in life relate to grace in some way.
You’ve ever wondered why “Blessed Assurance” is in your hymnal.
The majority of your congregation consists of Baptists who are only Methodists because they don’t want to be called Baptists.
You actually know the pledge to the Christian flag and the pledge to the Bible.
You think a new slogan covers a multitude of sins.
Your church has ever canceled Sunday evening services due to the Super Bowl.
This blog is the first in a series of satirical lists about different Christian denominations. There are too many denominations for me to get to all of them, but I do at least intend to hit the ones I’ve had some experience with. This is an exercise in laughing at ourselves folks. Don’t feel unfairly picked on by any of these lists. I fully intend to pick on everyone fairly. Let’s start though with one of the most quirky denominations in all of Christendom, the Independent Fundamental Baptists.
I once dated an Independent Fundamental Baptist and at the time was convinced that these were the best churches in the country. A little bit of church shopping at a handful of these small, close-knit operations taught me a few things I didn’t know and a whole lot of things I didn’t care to hear anymore about. I’m glad I didn’t join up, but sometimes I do think about wandering in for a good laugh.
And now… You might be an Independent Fundamental Baptist if…
You have ever used the phrase “Get right with God.”
You believe that Jesus spoke Aramaic and the Bible was written in Hebrew and Greek— but the 1611 King James Version is the only inspired Word of God.
Evangelism consists of tracts, bus visits and a “magic prayer.”
You believe women deserve second-class treatment in the church because Eve “started it” by eating the forbidden fruit.
You treat everyone outside the church as a “pagan” or “heathen,” unless, of course, you can win a free steak dinner by inviting them to church.
You believe masculinity is defined not by a man’s leadership in the home or his faithfulness to God—instead it is a simple question or whether or not he urinates standing up.
Most of your church music resembles a either a barbershop quartet or old drinking songs.
You can take prophecies from Jeremiah regarding Israel that have already been fulfilled and apply them to the United States.
You just can’t for the life of you understand why God would choose such a nasty process for human reproduction.
The thought of people burning in Hell makes you smile because you feel they are getting what they deserve.
You’re not sure if liberals can really be Christians. In fact, you secretly hope they can’t.
You have memorized the book of Leviticus.
Who’s next? So many denominations, so little time…
When they aren’t too cheesy—and even sometimes when they are—I like to watch vignettes from churches. This one, from Central Christian Church in Las Vegas, shows church members’ testimonies of their experiences at other churches where they felt judged when they should have been loved. Take a look:
These stories are a far cry from what followers of Christ are supposed to be known for. We are supposed to be known by our love for one another, not our judgment and condemnation of others. What’s your story? Positive or negative, I’d love to hear what you have to say about your experience with churches. Were you judged when you should have been loved? Did you ever find a church where you were loved and welcomed as part of a family?
I have read through the Sermon on The Mount more times than any other part of the Bible. The teaching and the thinking are so rich and revolutionary, it beckons me when I need a good lesson on thinking more about God’s Kingdom than my own. This particular time, I was using “The Message” translation, which brought to life a familiar verse. Here is Matthew 5:34 according to “The Message.”
“You only make things worse when you lay down a smoke screen of pious talk, saying, ‘I’ll pray for you,’ and never doing it, or saying, ‘God be with you,’ and not meaning it. You don’t make your words true by embellishing them with religious lace. In making your speech sound more religious, it becomes less true.”
I know this verse is usually applied to swearing and making oaths, but it did get me thinking about some of the frivolous religious phrases we use in the Church. It seems so often we cloak our feelings in spiritual platitudes and wonder why the world views us as inauthentic. In the spirit of truth and authenticity, here are a few such phrases we should cut from our conversations.
“Quiet Time:” If you were praying, say you were praying. If you were reading the Bible, say so. If you were singing at the top of your lungs and it wasn’t so quiet, let others know about it in those words. Why have we turned our time with God into a ritual with an obscure and silly name. In Heaven, we’re going to be raising hands and voices to God and it will be everything but quiet, why make it that way on Earth?
“The Holy Spirit has laid something on my heart:” Sounds painful. You might want to go the hospital immediately and make sure that’s not a tumor. First of all, before you make a statement like that, you need to make sure you’re not blaming your personal anxiety on God. Second, just be clear. Say you think God wants you to do it, or that God is showing you the importance of something. Why all this weirdness with laying a heavy burden on your heart of hearts?
“My walk with The Lord:” Where did we get this one? If you have a relationship with Christ, call it a relationship. If you’re struggling, instead of saying your walk is bad, say you don’t feel close to God anymore. If you’re getting better, say you’re praying more and getting to know Christ more. Don’t say, “My walk is improving.” Your walk should only be improving if you recently broke your leg and are recovering.
“Ask Jesus into your heart:” Again with the hearts. Aside from the fact that this oft-repeated phrase is found nowhere in the Bible, it’s kind of confusing to an outside observer. Why cloak it? If you want Jesus to take control of your life, then say that. If you realize that you are completely deficient and that you need the life-changing love of God in your life then say it. Instead of saying “I asked Jesus into my heart when I was a teenager” tell your story. You’re missing an opportunity to be real with someone just so you can sound like you know the right words.
“Prayer Life:” You have your real life, and then you have a prayer life? Is that kind of like Second Life? How about being honest. “I’m having a hard time praying lately” or, “I’ve started getting better about praying and it is really helping me.” Pray throughout your life, in good times and bad. Don’t make some loony separation like prayer isn’t real.
“I’ve been so blessed:” I’m sure you have. But let’s not use this to talk about your new car, or your $400,000 house. Jesus says the meek, mournful and spiritually poor are blessed. If you’re thinking that new yacht of yours is a blessing, you wouldn’t want to be truly blessed by God, because His blessings tend to have eternal benefit, not monetary or material benefit.
“Love Offering:” As opposed to a hate offering? Or did you want a giant group hug instead of money?
“Spiritual Journey:” Again, we’re compartmentalizing. Christ did not come to change one aspect of our lives, but our whole lives. There is no such thing as a spiritual journey, the phrase you’re looking for is, “my life.”
Small Group: Is it a Bible study? Call it that. is it a Sunday school class? Call it that. Are you hanging out with a group of friends discussing your shared faith? Call it that. “Small Group” is vague and connotes shame.
Being Fed: Someone once asked my wife and I how we were being fed. Knowing my wife was not familiar with the term, I quickly answered the question and talked about the church we were attending and the role it was playing in improving our relationship with God. I wanted to say, “Well, we’re still in college, so the food is pretty cheap. If we eat at all, it is of prison quality.”
Intentional: To be perfectly honest, I don’t even remember what we mean by “being intentional” anymore. I suspect it has something to do with making every move and comment relate somehow to “witnessing.”
Politics, politics, politics, oh how we love what you have done to the Church. Instead of a long divisive rant, I’ll keep this short and even-handed. I have a couple of questions to ask:
Conservative Christians: If Jesus came back today and held a press conference and announced He was in favor of open borders, universal healthcare and embryonic stem-cell research, would you find it hard to love Him? Would you try to persuade Him to your way of thinking?
Liberal Christians: If Jesus came back today and held a press conference and announced He was in favor of traditional marriage, denied global warming and was pro-life, would you find it hard to love Him? Would you try to persuade Him to your way of thinking?
Both sides: What is really the most important aspect of your belief system? Are those hills you are willing to die on as important to Christ as they are to you? Are they more important to you than He is?
I’ve blogged about PostSecret before and visiting the website is as much a part of my Sunday routine as church attendance. (Admittedly, I’ve attended services at the PostSecret website more frequently than church this year.)
At any rate, it occurred to me today that what PostSecret founder Frank Warren has stumbled upon with his site and the many books and seminars it has spawned, is something the church has known for years. Confession really is good for the soul and has a freeing effect.
It got me thinking: Why are people more willing to make such confessions anonymously over the Internet, but petrified to confess anonymously to a priest or more openly in a small group setting during “accountability” time. I think (and I could certainly be wrong,) part of the reason is the church expects you to confess your sins, which are big, scary, ominous and damning things, where PostSecret simply asks for your secrets. Most people wouldn’t call these expressions sins, though quite often some form of sin is hidden underneath these confessions.
Perhaps, such an attitude could revolutionize churches. What if a church were to ask its members to submit their secrets anonymously for a month and then on the last Sunday of the month share some of those secrets with the congregation? Wouldn’t it be freeing to know that no one else in the church is a super-Christian either? Wouldn’t it help us to see one another as real human beings with struggles and hang-ups and help us to stop putting up walls and putting on airs with one another? Wouldn’t it be revitalizing for us to come together and truly love one another without pretense and without this idea that the majority of the congregation has it together while a small minority just can’t get it right?
It might be scary to some, but I think in the long-run it could make an effective difference in the way individual churches and perhaps the body of Christ as a whole functions. I may suggest it in my church. Your thoughts?
Walk around the sanctuary with a microphone, spot unfamiliar faces and ask, “And you sir, why do you only attend church on Christmas and Easter?”
Have an invitation at the end, but keep holding out for “one last sinner” until the nice restaurants have stopped serving brunch.
Announce that we are going to continue our yearly tradition of crucifying one attendee. “We’ve been successful at raising them from the dead all but twice. Any volunteers?”
Deliver the entire sermon in a bunny costume for no apparent reason.
Throw the offering money back, angrily denouncing it as “blood money.”
Refuse to begin preaching until the Holy Spirit shows up either as a dove or as tongues of fire.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our Sunday school teachers have hyped your kids up on sugar. They’re outside paving the parking lot and will be released to you very shortly. Now you’ll know how their teachers feel the Monday after Easter.”
Have an Easter egg hunt in the middle of the service.
Lock all the restroom doors in the church and inform the congregation that the church is under budget and we would appreciate their help watering the lawn.
When a parent is unable to control their small child, accidentally let it slip that the Easter Bunny isn’t real.
