THE LAST SERMON

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter—THE LAST SERMON

 

I have already preached my last sermon, and I didn’t even know it!

I have decided to quit preaching several times, because I thought I should. In order to concentrate on other things, like my own spiritual development. But that decision to quit never stuck. In part because I didn’t want to leave my friends hanging when they needed to get out of town for a Sunday. This time, though, I think final means final, because it is my energy level that is making the decision.

I figured on making a big deal of my last sermon. After all, preaching was central to my life and identity for a long time. Not making a big deal of it to anyone else, but to myself. Lots of remembering, wallowing in nostalgia, looking at old worship bulletins, etc.

I figured I could get to September of 2026 and preach my last sermon on the 70^th anniversary of my first, when I was a nineteen-year-old Indiana University sophomore. 70 is a round and impressive number.

In September of 1956, I told the DS that I was thinking that some day, maybe, perhaps, I might want to be a preacher. He said, “Good, you can start next Sunday.” 3 churches, on the Chrisney circuit. I didn’t even know where Chrisney was! That was 66 years ago last Sept.

I suppose a 66 year anniversary would be a nice number for a last sermon, but it’s awfully close to 666, and I don’t really want folks associating my preaching with that number.

Seventy years is a long time. September of 2026 is a long way off. Too long, as it turns out.

I was on the committee to persuade the Lilly Foundation to pay for a “renewal leave” for our pastor, Jimmy Moore. I even wrote the congregation’s rationale for why he should have a leave for 3 months. [“We really need a break.”] I assumed, and so did others on the committee, and so did our associate pastor, Mary Beth Morgan, who is Jimmy’s wife, that I would be available to back her up while Jimmy was gone.

That, however, was a year ago. When Mary Beth asked me to preach on a given Sunday in May, I realized I couldn’t do it. I had declined so much, both physically and mentally, over the last year that I could no longer stand for 20 minutes and think for 20 minutes, both of which are necessary for preaching.

[Okay, I know it’s possible to preach sitting down, but sitting down doesn’t do anything for the brain. Or the throat. Or the eyes. Or remembering whether it is Point 2 or Point 3 that follows Point 1.]

Not realizing that you will keep declining, when you are as old as I am, is in itself a sign of mental decline.

I am dependable but not reliable. Dependability is a matter of character. Reliability is a matter of timing, as in being able to show up when you say you will.

So I actually preached my last sermon a year ago. But even though I did not intend for that sermon to be my last, it was a perfect way to leave the pulpit. Three of my high school friends drove a hundred miles each way to come in person. Several of the students—now old retired people—from my campus ministry days were there via livestream, even though they live in far-away places. And it was a good sermon. About forgiveness, Jesus’ own most frequent sermon topic.

John Robert McFarland