Top Tips for Last-Minute Sermon Preparation

It's a common problem. People assume that Archdruids, clergy, Local Preachers and all the rest enjoy endless leisure for research and preparation for their Sabbath discourses, expository exhortations, homilies, "thoughts" or, to cut a long story short, sermons. They believe we enjoy the perfect sermon preparation weeks, little knowing the real story.

The Perfect Sermon Preparation Week:

Monday: Checking out the lectionary, ensuring it's not a special Saint's day and they're not transferring the Equinox to the Sunday or some other such special occasion.

Tuesday: Reading the passage in nine or ten different English versions. If the preacher is planning to base her/his words on the Old Testament, then also the Hebrew and Septuagint. If the New, then the original Greek and Syriac. Maybe, if discussing Jesus's wife, Coptic.

Wednesday: Day off - allowing the Holy Spirit to pour out her holy wisdom into the situation.

Thursday: Consulting the Authorities. Early Fathers, Wesley, Augustine, Luther, Spurgeon, Tom Wright or David Icke according to theological inclination and traditions.

Friday: Weaving all these diverse threads into a seamless and colourful tapestry of pure theology and down-to-earth wisdom.

Saturday evening: After a brief perusal of the latest Dr Who and a lavender-scented bath, the purveyors of sermons take themselves off to early bedtime, to be vibrant and holy in the morning.

Sunday: Preaching the perfect sermon.

The Real Story:

Of course, this perfect week doesn't happen. If a Local Preacher under 65, the chances are there was a day-job or child-rearing or some such to deal with. If the preacher is a full-time clergy, the chances are the week consisted of a blizzard of visits, appointments, committees and putting-off-the-sermon-preparation.

Either way, come Saturday night they're still looking at a blank computer screen, or a blank piece of paper, with a blank expression. Dr Who and QI XL have failed to bring any inspiration; the children are still running up the walls at 10 o'clock and it is time to face facts. The sermon is going to have to be written now, or you've got a very early morning tomorrow. The options are as follows:

1. Beg a sermon. Somewhere on Twitter there will be a generous clergy or member of the allied preaching trades with a sermon. They can be induced to email it to you. You have to be a little careful - some people preach quite personal sermons. It's no good talking about your time at King's, Cambridge or how your youngest, Philibert, is doing at his 6-a-side macramé club, unless these things are actually true. If your sermon appears to have created a complete alternative life story, or you have changed race, denomination, faith or gender for the purposes of its delivery, you probably haven't checked it over properly. Similarly, preaching one of John Wesley's sermons will only work if the congregation are fluent in Georgian English and don't think the "Spirit of Bondage" is something to do with "50 Shades of Grey".
2. Steal a sermon. You know that smug clergy in your Circuit who's always got his sermon written by Tuesday? Break into his house and nick it. Obviously, you'll leave him yours so as to make it technically just an involuntary swap rather than burglary. OK, your sermon will consist of  the words "Jesus is good; Greatest in the Kingdom; Maybe quote "Footprints"?" - but at least he'll have something to work on.
3. Reincarnate a sermon. Check your files for the last time you preached on the passage. If you're a full-time clergy of more than 3 years' standing, there's a good chance you'll find it exactly three years ago. As with the "begging" option, be careful. References to the Berlin Wall coming down, the latest Human League single or the invention of the '45 rpm single may clue people in to this not being so original.
4. Trust in God. Just go to bed. In the middle of the night, you will awake with a fully-formed three-point-sermon in your head which you will write on the notepad you keep by your bed. In the morning, you will discover that you have written "1. Jesus is good. 2. Greatest in the Kingdom. 3. Maybe quote "Footprints"?
5. Consider an alternative approach. If you think quickly on your feet, and your church members are relatively assertive, ask what they think in the morning. Read a poem - "Footprints" is always popular. Or hand everyone a pebble and just play some nice Palestrina.
6. Blag it. Go into the pulpit, read the passage very slowly from a different translation, then nod sagely and say "I think we can all go home and learn something from this." Then get on with the tea lights, Creed or next hymn, according to tradition.
7. Preach last week's sermon, and hope everybody falls asleep after the introductory joke.
8. Ask yourself the all-important question - what would Jesus do? If you find the answer is, "have a row with the forces of authority, upset the chief priests and get nailed to something," ask yourself a different question.
9. Set the alarm for 5am. Lay awake, tossing and turning and worrying, until 4.45. Then just as you hit that perfect state of R.E.M. sleep, awake to your iPhone displaying its new ability to play songs as an alarm. Ask yourself what on earth you were playing at, choosing Motorhead's "We are the Roadcrew". Go downstairs cursing your lot. Make stupidly strong coffee. Still in a semi-dreamlike state, conjure up something that appears to make perfect sense. Preach it at 8am, 9.30 and 11. On each occasion, receive the comment, "Lovely sermon" from people at the door on their way out. Go home, have a nap, and then read the sermon over. Discover you have exhorted your hearers to pledge allegiance to Lord Squiddy, the King of the Sea-People, have said the Gnostics were small green aliens from the planet Argos and have confused Judas Iscariot with Jude the Obscure. Reflect that it's not the worst you've written.
10. Just read out "Footprints".