Preaching is an Art, not a Formula, Part Two

Written by Rev. Dr. Heather Henson, Director of Quest

 

In the last post, I suggested that preaching is an art. Today, we are going to look at how that distinction matters more than we might initially think.

When we treat preaching like a science or a formula, we begin to approach it as something that can be solved. We look for the right process, the right structure, the right sequence of steps that will lead to a desired outcome. In that sense, it becomes a kind of equation. We get lulled into thinking that if we can identify the variables and apply the formula correctly, the result will take care of itself.

Now, good processes are not without value. They can help us learn and give us a place to start. But if we are not careful, they begin to shape how we understand the task itself. That is when preaching starts to feel like something we complete rather than something we participate in.

I have seen this play out several times. A passage is selected, the main idea is identified, supporting points are developed, and an application is added at the end. Everything is in its place. The sermon works. It is clear. It is organized. It can even be effective in certain ways.

But something is missing.

The process feels more like solving a problem than expressing something that has taken hold in the life of the preacher. It is closer to a book report than a work of art. And that is where the limitation begins to show.

When preaching is reduced to a process, it can easily become a kind of “plug-and-chug” exercise in which we learn how to insert the “right” pieces into the “right” places. We learn how to produce something that meets expectations. But in doing so, we also begin to narrow the space where something truly transformative might emerge.

Art does not work that way.

Art flows from the person. It is shaped by how they see, how they listen, how they respond. Two people can work with the same materials, the same subject, even the same basic techniques, and produce something entirely different. The difference is in how they engaged the process, not simply in whether they followed the steps correctly.

For example, I am currently learning how to paint with watercolors. It is fun, and I have painted several pieces that others have appreciated. When learning to paint like this, there are certain things I need to know. I need to understand how the paint interacts with water, how different brushes function, how layering works, and how to control or release the movement of the paint on the page, and so on. Those skills take time to develop, and they matter. But learning those skills is not the same thing as creating a painting.

I can take someone else’s work and try to replicate it. I can follow their choices, match their colors, and imitate their technique as closely as possible. After all of that, I might produce something that looks similar on the surface. But it would not be the same. Because the original work from the original artist did not come from a formula. It came from the artist’s way of seeing, their instincts, their decisions in the moment, and their willingness to respond to what was happening on the page as they worked. There is a kind of attentiveness in that process that cannot be reduced to steps and cannot be articulated with words.
The same dynamic shows up in preaching.

We can learn structures. We can study how others have approached a text. We can even imitate patterns that have been effective. But at some point, we have to ask whether we are simply reproducing something or actually creating something that has been shaped through our own engagement with God and Scripture.
That is where the artistic dimension of preaching becomes important and clear.

Preaching is an art, which means the act of preaching requires us to listen more carefully, not just to the text, but to what the Spirit is doing and what is happening within us as we sit with it. It invites us to notice where we are drawn, where we are resistant, and where something begins to take shape that we could not have planned. It asks us to respond, to test, and to remain open as the process unfolds. That kind of work doesn’t feel efficient because it resists being reduced to a checklist. At times, it can feel uncertain because there is no guarantee that everything will come together in a clean or predictable way.

But that is also where its potential lies.

If we think about some of the great artists or composers, their work was not defined by how well they followed the established patterns of their time. In many cases, it was marked by their willingness to move beyond those patterns, not for the sake of novelty, but in response to something deeper. They had learned the foundations, but they were not confined by them. Preaching, in its own way, carries that same invitation.

This does not mean that technique is unimportant, that structure has no place, nor that orthodox theology should be thrown out the window. Just as a painter needs to understand their tools, a preacher needs to understand Scripture, theology, language, context, and communication. Those are part of the work. But they are not the work in its entirety. They are what make the work possible.

What ultimately shapes a sermon is not whether the process was followed correctly, but whether the preacher has allowed themselves to be formed in such a way that they can speak from within the reality they are proclaiming. It is the difference between presenting something and bearing witness to it.

When we reduce preaching to a formula, we may still produce something that functions. But we risk losing the depth and the texture that comes from an artistic endeavor. We risk creating sermons that are correct without being compelling, clear without being formative.

So, the question is not whether we should abandon structure or ignore the skills that help us communicate well. The question is whether we are willing to move beyond treating preaching as something to be solved and begin engaging it as something to be practiced.

Because preaching is not a formula to execute.

It is an art that takes shape as we learn to listen, respond, and create over time.