Sermon writing Saturday

I got my glass of peach iced tea, my computer with its power cord, my journal. I lit a candle. I started my computer and made sure I had water, too. Time to do this.

I pulled up my passage, copied it into a word document. I have an illogically deep fear of spending ten minutes flipping through a Bible to find my passage, so I always print it out at the top of my sermon. Facebook pulled me aside: comments answered, weird fact articles, cute puppy pictures. OK. Sermon. I read through my notes, made some more notes under the very special heading of “Sermon Thoughts.” That means I’m close to the end, close to writing the sermon. Today they were all recaps of disjointed thoughts that I liked, abstractly, but wasn’t sure how to tie together or even if they belonged together. I had thoughts yesterday; I have thoughts today; they weren’t at all the same. I wasn’t sure if I could join them together, or should.

OK, two hours. I could do this.

Maybe, except I went on Twitter. Yep, people are still upset, still posting poetry fragments. I went to the other room in search of my shepherd-related things, for the children’s moment (maybe?); I thought I might have some vapid shepherdess statuette, and actually had a stuffed sheep music box that plays “White Christmas.” That’ll work.

The sermon feels further away than ever.

I go backwards: Twitter, then Facebook. Back and forth. Texts with a friend. I haven’t been to my sermon document in twenty minutes, blank except for the text and “Let us pray:” The resistance–mine? the world’s? the friction of fear against words?–is building, and I know trying to outflank it with distractions only makes it stronger.

Facebook: nothing new has come up in the last three minutes, except an ad. I don’t recognize the company, but there’s a shirt that says “believe” with a sea monster: and I want to believe in beautiful, wonderful things like sea monsters and my work ethic. I want to believe in the unexpected, in hidden nooks and crannies full of amazement. I want to believe in possibilities.

The sea monster titled “believe” is a note of hope.


Message of the story: sometimes I struggle to write. 🙂

The sermon did get written, however; you can read it here.

3 thoughts on “Sermon writing Saturday”

  1. Your job (this part of it anyway) is every bloggers dream. Weekly, you write an essay and then get to read it to an audience. I’m sure there’s lots of pressure behind that, but still, the reward…


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