And Your Daughters...

Although there is a shift in progress, in some places ministerial leadership is still an all boys club. I can recall my first semester at Drew. I heard the rumblings and grumblings from women whose ministerial gifts and graces were ignored, devalued, and outright rejected because they did not posses the correct genitalia that qualifies one for ministry. They were hurt. They were angry. They were silenced. They were confused. Most of these stories were voiced by women in historically and predominantly Black Baptist Churches—the very place where God has called me to serve. I must admit, I was frightened by these stories. I also must admit, I tried to make these stories my own. As much as their stories were true for them, their stories were not my story.

I am grateful to be under the leadership of a Spirit-filled and Spirit-led man, the Rev. Dr. Allen Paul Weaver, Jr., who recognizes that God has called women and men to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ. His recognition goes beyond the surface. He is not simply pleasant to women preachers; He demonstrates his understanding of Scripture by nurturing and training both women and men in the ministry. He was the first Pastor in Bethesda's 122 year history to license women to preach, to ordain women to the Gospel ministry, and to ordain female deacons (not deaconesses). He has catechized a host of women from churches in the Metropolitan New York area as they prepared to be ordained into the Gospel ministry. I am the second woman clergy person to serve in the role of Assistant to the Pastor. Currently, our ministerial staff is equally balanced female and male. He invites gifted and powerful women into our pulpit to preach beyond Women's Day and Mission Sunday. Dr. Weaver understands that gender and genetalia do not make one more (or less) fit for ministry. He understands that it is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, obedience to a call from God, being a student of the Word, and a love for God's church that makes one fit for ministry.

The prophet Joel uttered these words—from the mouth of God—to the people of Israel:

“ And it shall come to pass afterward
That I will pour out My Spirit on all flesh;
Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
Your old men shall dream dreams,
Your young men shall see visions.
And also on My menservants and on My maidservants
I will pour out My Spirit in those days." (Joel 2:28-29 NKJV)

Lest we think these words are part of the old covenant, the Apostle Peter, on the day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit came upon the people, used these words as fodder for his sermonic message. The Spirit of God can, does, and will use men, women, boys, and girls to proclaim what thus saith the Lord.

And your daughters...

I have had the pleasure, two weeks in a row, to witness an amazing move of God in ministry in predominantly Black Baptist churches. These events let me know that God is still on the throne, God is still moving, and that eventually people will catch God's vision...

Last Sunday we attended an ordination of deacons service at the Calvary Baptist Church in White Plains, NY. This was no ordinary ordination service. This was the first time in Calvary's 75 year history that they were ordaining women to the diaconate ministry. I felt chills as Dr. Weaver preached a word of challenge and blessing over the church and the women being ordained. I felt joy for the church and for those girls and boys who will grow in the church seeing women and men servings as leaders. I felt the Spirit as authority was conferred upon these four women.

Last night, after a marathon day at church, Pastor and I traveled down to St. John's Baptist Church in Harlem for an ordination service. The ordinand was a women that Pastor had catechized and prepared for ministry. She was also a women who went before council for examination the same night that I did. Although we were strangers on that night, as we waited for our turn before council, we affirmed each other, prayed with each other and encouraged each other in the Lord. She is now my sister and a co-laborer in the Gospel ministry. I was blessed to be counted in the number of those laying hands on her as God elevated her from Minister to Reverend. I was blessed to be able to extend to her the right hand of fellowship, welcoming her into this beautiful and strange vocation. If that wasn't enough, I found out in between the laying on of hands and extending the right hand of fellowship that she was the first woman ordained to the Gospel ministry in St. John's history. In that moment, I heard the shouts of that great cloud of witnesses—voices of those Daughters of Thunder—Jarena Lee, Amanda Berry Smith, Sojourner truth, Florence Spearing Randolph, Pauli Murray echoing in my heart.

One of the most poignant moments in the ordination service was during the charge to the ordinand delivered by Dr. Weaver. He charged the ordinand to be a preacher. A preacher—nothing more and nothing less. He challenged her to be mindful of the nomenclature used to describe her ministry. He noted that when we mark ourselves—and are marked—as female preachers, we mark a distinction (which some might read as an inferiority). He called her attention—our attention—that in Christ there is neither male nor female, Greek nor Jew, bond nor free (Galatians 3:28). He reiterated the fact that it is her Spirit given gifts that will make room for her in ministry, not her gender. Although his charge was for this particular ordinand, I must admit that I kept his words and have been pondering them in my heart (Luke 2:19).

Amen and so be it.

image of Florence Spearing Randolph taken from http://ptoday.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html

Making the Sermon: New Life in Lament

On Sunday, for the second week in a row, I preached two sermons. On Sunday, out of nowhere, I fell asleep so hard it wasn’t funny (except to my husband). I now call this the sacrament of the post-preaching nap. It is indeed sacred time!

Monday...began the sermonating process all over again. I read the lectionary texts, chose a Psalm, and began to meditate on it. (This process takes some time.)

Tuesday… I couldn’t shake Sunday’s hymn of praise, “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” I woke up singing it (again). I kept singing and singing, silently and out loud until I surrendered to it. Instead of preaching from the Psalms, like I had planned, I focused my sermonic musings on Lamentations 3:19-24. I have learned that when the Holy Spirit is nudging you in a certain direction, it is best to be obedient and go that way. I sat with the text, reading it over and over again.

Wednesday…I read the text in the morning and let it have its way in me as I went shopping, to lunch, and to the movies with my cousin Michelle and her daughter. They were spending some time with me in NJ, and what a blessing it was.

Thursday...I exegeted by the pool. Michelle, Najah, and I made our way to the pool at noon. We spent a total of 3 hours there. I spent my time reading the text—this time I read through the entire book of Lamentations, twice, to get context for Sunday’s text. The I began doing a word study, taking notes, and asking questions of the text.

Friday...went to the pool with books in tow. Poured over them. Closed them. Closed my eyes. Soaked in the Sun. Walked back to the house and prayed to God for the Word to bubble up in me and overflow before the end of the evening. Put the key in the door. Began singing Fantasia’s new song, “Bittersweet” in my head. Changed clothes. While changing clothes it hit me.

Saturday...sermon hitting me while driving. Wrote it down as soon as I get out of the car. Don’t want to take the Holy Spirit for granted. Officiated my first funeral, alongside Pastor Weaver who offered the eulogy. Read the text. Slept on my mom’s couch (I had a splitting headache) and then got up to write the message. I thought I was going to preach from an outline, but as I began crafting it, full sentences came out. So, I went with it. Just before 10 p.m. my headache was so painful I had to stop and go to bed. The words were in me, but they just weren’t on the page. I prayed for a healing touch and for God to have His way.

Sunday...God had His way. I woke up at 5:20, headache long gone, and fingertips ready to preach the word to my keyboard. The words poured out of me and I finished in time to get dressed and make my way to worship. The air in the sanctuary was still, for both services. I preached, and while there was little call and response in the moment of proclamation (I am coming to realize that I am not that preacher), there was an outpouring of response after the service. Our people are carrying burdens, feigning smiles, and not expressing their anguish/grief/sorrow/anger/frustration to God mostly because they have been taught not to complain. It was as if todays sermon finally gave them permission to take everything to God in prayer.

Here is the text:

Remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.

Here is an excerpt:

Have we forgotten how to Lament? Have we lost our ability to lament? Have we forgotten how to remember our pain and suffering?

In Orangeburg, South Carolina there was news of a 29 year-old mother of two young boys who smothered her sons and placd their bodies in a river. According to CNN News, “Authorities said Duley, a 29-year-old unemployed, single mother, may have been fed up with criticism from her mother and that her increasing frustration could have led to the killings.”

She was fed up, but I wonder what would have happened if she allowed herself to lament?

I am the first to admit my fascination with celebrity life, and my fascination with our cultural fascination with celebrity life. I watch Extra and Access Hollywood in addition to CNN. As such, I have been intrigued by the events surrounding singing sensation, American Idol, Fantasia Barrino. Alleged extra-marital affair. Alleged sex-tapes. Pending lawsuit. News of such threatening to permeate the radio airwaves, TV news media, and the blogs. In other words, folks would be talking about it. That is a heavy burden to bear. And so, Fantasia, according to news reports, swallowed a bottle of aspirin and took sleeping pills. It sounds like she was trying to take her life…to fade away without anyone noticing.

She was overwhelmed and afraid, but I wonder what would have happen if she allowed herself to lament?

Even as I was finishing this message, there were the sounds of kids screaming and yelling. There were the sounds of foul words being slung in every direction. There were sounds of their shoes clicking the pavement. I heard glass breaking and horns honking. These sounds were followed by the roars and beeps of police sirens. I heard an officer over her loudspeaker tell the young people to “go home.” My heart became heavy. I was saddened at the state of affairs in our neighborhoods. I was saddened that our children live life on these streets with nothing to do and nowhere to go without trouble all around them. I was saddened because, for some of them, home may not be any safer than the streets.

O church, I wonder what would happen if we lamented for our children?

These stories, which are but examples of countless happenings in our world today, cause me to think that we have forgotten how to lament. These stories cause me to wonder about the ways in which grief, sorrow, and anger becomes toxic when it is not expressed. I am convinced that when we don’t lament, grief overtake us. When we don’t lament, the grief kills us. When we don’t lament, the grief moves us to harm others.

The book of Lamentations is much like the Psalms, in that is a collection. Lamentations contains five chapters, each of which is a poem, focused on the “suffering, confusion, bewilderment by those who were in Jerusalem after the Babylonian conquest in 587 BC.” These were a people in captivity with hearts so heavy they could not contain it. The writer of Lamentations, whom many believe is the prophet Jeremiah, understood sin to be the cause of the suffering of the people. In the first poem (v.8) he says, “Jerusalem has grievously sinned; therefore she is removed.” Later, in verse 18 he writes, “The Lord is righteous; for I have rebelled against his commandments hear, I pray you, all people, and behold my sorrow...” The writer knows that the sin of the people had consequences that they were living with at the time of the writing. Their captors, the Babylonians, were less than kind. They were starved and murdered, and their women were raped. This was a difficult time in the life of Ancient Israel and Lamentations is the heartfelt expression of that experience.

********

To lament is to passionately express one’s grief or sorrow, it is a mourning, an articulation with disappointment or regret. Lamenting in the biblical tradition is one method, one type, of prayer.

Lamenting is not complaining. They may sound similar, but there is a difference. Complaining holds within it expression of annoyance with a situation. Complaining is whining, griping, and grumbling about a situation. While lament is expressing sorrow or grief over a situation. Hear the difference. When we complain, we are saying, “God here is what I’m going through, I don’t like it, and it seems you have no idea what you are doing.” When we lament, we are saying, “God here is what I’m going through, I don’t understand it, it hurts more than words, but I’m giving it to you because I know that you have a plan for my life, for good and not for evil, to give me a hope and a future.” When we complain, we are saying, “God get it together!” When we lament, we are saying, “God help me to get it together.” We are not to complain to God, but we are to lament before God.

There are different kinds of laments. Different moments when lament is the most appropriate form of prayer...

Making the Sermon: Discerning the Real from the Fake

This past week my preaching text was Jeremiah 23:25-29. Heavy on my mind was the weight of the new office that I hold and the ways in which uttered speech affects the lives of the people. Our speech, as preachers, can harm or heal. At the end of my life, I want to be known as a woman whose words were breathed by the very breath of God; I want to be know as a woman whose words mattered. I want to be known as a woman whose words were healing. There is a balm in Gilead!

I chose my text early in the week from the Revised Common Lectionary. I do not come from a tradition where lectionary is used, but in my Advanced Preaching class, I learned to use it. (I also really like the African American Lectionary.) Lectionary is indeed a valuable tool for the preacher. It helps to guide the preacher through the Bible so that he or she may guide the people through the Bible, without falling victim to preaching the same texts over and over again. As I establish my preaching rhythm, I am interested in establishing a way of choosing a text that is not haphazard. That is not to say that I don't rely on the Spirit to lead me to a text, because I do. I also know that the people who hear our preaching do not live their lives episodically or haphazardly. Our preaching—my preaching—must have some continuity. This is wisdom gleaned from Rev. Dr. Gary Simpson. For that I am grateful.

Like I said, I chose the text on Monday. I spent Tuesday through Friday reading it over and over and over and over in again in various translations. I read the text at the pool. I read the text at Panera Bread. I read the text in my living room. I even listened to the text when I was out for a walk. During those days I was jotting down notes here and there as they came to me. There were moments, mostly when I was washing dishes, when I would hear the sermon in my head. At those moments I shut the water off, found my pretty preaching journal, and proceeded to write until it all came out. By the time Saturday morning hit, I didn't have a lot written down, but there was a lot ruminating in my head.

I didn't have a lot written down because I was being lazy. This was a hard text and I did not shy away from it. That did not make writing the sermon any easier. I knew early on, based on what I was hearing from the text, that folks weren't going to be "shouting down the aisles." But yet, I imagine folks weren't shouting when Jeremiah preached either.

On Saturday afternoon I finally opened up my laptop and knew that I wouldn't close it until the sermon was completed. The words poured out of me. For that I am grateful to God! At one point I knew the sermon was getting long. I mentioned this to my husband. An hour later the words were still pouring and my fingers were still clicking away on the keyboard. "Editing down, I hope," said my hubby. "Ummm, yeah, sure. That's what I'll be doing once I add this one more thing," I replied. He gave me the look. I kept typing. I typed until this phase of it was done. And I went to bed feeling good, ready for the Holy Spirit to complete the sermon on Sunday morning. It's not done until you preach it...

Here is the Text:

“I have heard what the prophets have said who prophesy lies in My name, saying, ‘I have dreamed, I have dreamed!’ How long will this be in the heart of the prophets who prophesy lies? Indeed they are prophets of the deceit of their own heart, who try to make My people forget My name by their dreams which everyone tells his neighbor, as their fathers forgot My name for Baal.
“The prophet who has a dream, let him tell a dream;
And he who has My word, let him speak My word faithfully.
What is the chaff to the wheat?” says the LORD.

“Is not My word like a fire?” says the LORD,
“ And like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?”

Here is an Excerpt:

And Jeremiah wasn’t the only one living in troubled times and a world with false prophets. If I did not know any better, I would think that our text from today are not the words of an ancient prophet, but rather the words of a present day prophet stirring people to know the real word of God over the false dreams of prophets. Jeremiah preached under pressure, and is that not the case for the preacher/prophet today? Sunday after Sunday, we mount the pulpit and declare what thus saith the Lord in the midst of war, famine, despair, hopelessness, and nihilism. Sunday after Sunday, we mount the pulpit and declare what thus saith the Lord in a world rife with racism, classism, and sexim. Sunday after Sunday, we mount the pulpit and declare what thus saith the Lord while physical violence, emotional violence, and sexual violence are inflicted in the lives of people. Sunday after Sunday, we mount the pulpit and declare what thus saith the Lord while our children suffer in inadequate schools, our people live in inadequate homes, and healthcare is still a privilege for some and not a right for all. Sunday after Sunday, we mount the pulpit and declare what thus saith the Lord, speaking a word of hope in the midst of brokenness.

And it is this brokenness, this turmoil, this presence of pressure, that is fertile ground for the false prophet. You see, today, we have a proliferation of false prophets in our midst. False prophets see the brokenness in our world and capitalize on it. They use it as a way to pervert the Word of God and prey on the hearts and minds of the people. The text tells us a few things of note about false prophets. For one, they prophesy lies in God’s name. They build their ministries around untruths. They are frauds, masquerading as spokespersons for God when they really only utter falsehood. Don’t get it twisted...they will throw some Word in the mix. Make it sound real good. But remember, that is exactly what happened with the serpent in the garden and look where it got us.

Secondly, the false prophet will sell you a dream. A false prophet will tell you that God is going to give you something beyond your wildest dreams. Usually this prophesy is steeped in the American dream--health, wealth, prosperity, big houses, big cars, big bank accounts. And you find out that this prophesy is really just a pipe dream. In this society, in our current culture and ethos, we have been taught to fill our voids with stuff. Instead of promising you the peace that passes all human understanding, the false prophet promises you a piece of American pie. Instead of promising abundant love--agape--from God, the false prophet promises you abundant things to fill the empty spaces in your soul.

Lastly, the false prophet is not an authorized mouthpiece of God, but rather one who prophesies from the deceit in their heart. At their core, false prophets are wicked. At their center, false prophets are frauds. In the depths of their heart is not the love of God, but rather a love of lies and trickery.

I used to understand prophets as folks who stood in the pulpit, sometimes speaking in tongues, while intently surveying the room for someone to whom God wanted to speak directly. I encountered prophets who sometimes spoke harsh words, most times promised people an end to their suffering (or a new car), and never spoke to me. I now have a new understanding of prophets, rooted in the Old Testament tradition, where prophets are messengers of God, called to speak truth to power and motivate communities to live into their God-given identity. Think about it, when have you ever read where Jeremiah, or Isaiah, or Ezekial, or Haggai promised someone a new car, a new house, or a new job. Better yet, do you know of Jonah telling the single ladies of Ninevah that they would be married in six months. The prophets did, however, on many occasions, call people into a new way of being where they walk in the word of God and the beauty of holiness.

False Prophets…will tell you their dreams.

Real Prophets...speak the words of the Lord.

False Prophets…prophesy lies, and twist the word of God.

Real Prophets...speak what thus saith the Lord.

False Prophets…cause people to forget God.

Real Prophets...keep God front and center in the hearts and minds of the people.

False Prophets…will have you chasing after money, cars, houses and clothes.

Real Prophets...will have you chasing after God.

False Prophets…work out of their own agenda.

Real Prophets...say nevertheless Lord, not my will, but thy will be done.

False Prophets…are detrimental to your walk with God.

Real Prophets...say, “order my steps in your word.”

False Prophets…tickle the itching ears of the people.

Real Prophets…speak life to the broken hearts of the people.

False Prophets…will tell you what you can and should be according to American values rooted in consumerism and materialism.

Real Prophets…will tell us what we ought to be, according to values and standards of Almighty God.

False Prophets…are interested in profits, replete with dollar signs and lots of zeros.

Real Prophets…are interested in the integrity of the prophetic office, replete with repentance and salvation.

False Prophets…will prey on you.

Real Prophets…will pray for you and pray with you.

Fake Prophets...will tell you that Jesus is a way.

Real Prophets...will tell you that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life.

Fake Prophets...will tell you that sin is of no consequence.

Real Prophets...will tell you that the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life!

False Prophets…will give you a word for the low, low, price of 19.95 payable by check, credit card, or money order.

Real Prophets…will give you a word and sacrifice their lives in the process.

............

The real prophet is inspired by the breath of God and the word of God. The very words they utter come directly from the Word. His or her words are God breathed. Biblical scholar, John Patterson writes, “two people may wear the clerical collar and the ministerial garb but one may be a wolf in sheep’s clothing and the other may be a dedicated spirit like Jeremiah. One may be the victim of illusion and the other may be the voice of God. How can we discern things that differ?” (64). Further, he states, “the inspired speaker is discerned by the inspired hearer...” (65-66)

Beloved, you must be inspired hearers.

And the way that we become inspired hearers is to be inspired readers. Beloved, we must know the word of God for ourselves. We must be in relationship with the word of God. We must meditate on the Word of God. We must hide it in our hearts that we might not sin against Him. We must eat the Word, savor it, digest it, and then live it.

Beloved, let us be inspired readers. Let us be inspired hearers. Let us be inspired by Almighty God so that we may discern the real from the fake and so we never forget God’s name.

Making the Sermon: An Introduction

Welcome to the newest feature on my blog! I thought if John Landis could be known for "The Making of Thriller" and Puff Daddy (I refuse to call him Diddy) can flood MTV airwaves with "Making the Band" then surely the blogosphere would be ready for "Making the Sermon."

Some of my favorite homiletic texts are those that speak to the creative process of preachers. My all time favorites are Dr. Cleophas LaRue's Power in the Pulpit: How America's Most Effective Black Preachers Prepare Their Sermons and Jana Childers' Birthing the Sermon: Woman Preachers on the Creative Process.

Currently, my creative process is being developed. This I do know: my best sermons are birthed when I am resting, exercising, and taking good care of myself. A few months ago a sermon preached itself to me as I was running the loop at Giralda Farms. I couldn't get home fast enough to write it down! Now, in my new role as Assistant to the Pastor at the Bethesda Baptist Church, with regular preaching responsibilities, I am getting into the habit and rhythm of sermon preparation. Today was spent looking for and waiting to be found by next week's text.

This new feature will give you a glimpse into the joys and challenges of sermon preparation of a young preacher trying to find her way. Enjoy!

Images from Senior Sermon/Worship

(c) Images shot by Sungchun Ahn

Resurrection...

My three week hiatus ran a tad longer...blame it on the warm weather, the myriad of things to do for school, or just me nurturing the relationships that are important to me. All in all, it has been a great time away....my sermons have gotten better, my runs have gotten longer (I can run 3.5 miles, no stopping, no problemo), I've made some art (and am continuing to do so), and I've got some new stuff on the horizons--it is Resurrection season! For some reason, for many reasons, my heart is singing, "I get joy just thinking about what God's done for me..."

One of the many things that has happened is that I entered a sermon in the Good Preacher Seminarian Contest and have been chosen as one of the finalists (along with another Drew Senior Sarah Pomerantz). So, instead of writing more, I'm going to let the sermon speak for me today...

And after you've watched, visit http://www.goodpreacher.com/shareit/readreviews.php?cat=41 and vote. The password is nashville.

More to Think About...

Sometimes the only thing keeping you from accessing the sermon on the inside of you is a good cry. (Donna Olivia Powell)

It's Not How High You Jump on Sunday Morning...

It is amazing how you can hear something over and over again, but one day it just clicks. It makes sense. It doesn't go in one ear and out the other, but rather it lingers for a while and has a way of changing your mind and heart. My God!

My pastor, Rev. Dr. Allen Paul Weaver, is a wise man. I am blessed to be a hearer of his preaching, a student of his teaching, and his daughter in ministry. He is a real teacher. His preaching is didactic, but not boring. He can jump with the best of them, but he reserves the jump for when it gets real good. In fact, he doesn't plan to jump. The Spirit moves him to jump. He doesn't put on a show when preaching, but rather he lets the Word of God excite him. And when he gets excited, it is genuine and contagious. But I'm not blogging/bragging about my pastor today, but rather I want to lift up something he said on Sunday morning...

Now, don't get me wrong, I love to have church. You know—hand-clapping, foot-stomping, hallelujahs dancing in the air, tambourines clanging, somebody just might break out in a run—church. I love when people are excited about the salvific work of Christ, when folks are praising God for just how good He is, and when people are expressing their gratitude in body and voice. Here is where the wisdom of Dr. Weaver comes in. He said, "It is not how high you jump on Sunday morning; It is how straight you walk when you come down." Can I get an amen?

So many of us put on on Sunday mornings. We jump and shout and run and wail and sing about love and then leave the sanctuary without being changed. We leave without having had an experience with the living God. We leave with the same old mess we came in with. We leave walking just as crooked as when we came in. But, as Dr. Weaver would say in jest, "Chile, we sure did have church this morning."

I don't know about you, but I am tired of having church and playing church. I want to be the church. I want to be a genuine follower of Jesus Christ. I want to be one who daily is being conformed into His image. I want to be one whose life witnesses to the redemptive work of Christ on the cross. I want to have a renewed mind—renewed by the power of the word. I want my life to bring glory to God. I want to, in the words of the prophet Micah, "to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.(Micah 6:8). I want to, in the words of Jesus, "love the LORD my God with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength, and with all my mind,’ and ‘my neighbor as yourself’” (Luke 10:27).

And, I want to jump and shout and run and wail and sing on Sunday mornings...but only if it produces a straighter walk on Monday morning.

(Amen Painting by Sheila J. Hall. Taken from http://fineartamerica.com/featured/amen-sheila-j-hall.html)

Percolation...

More than ever, I realize just how important the percolation phase is in sermon preparation (and paper writing). I have a sermon brewing in me, that is being informed by other life experiences. I know that driving through the streets of Brooklyn yesterday was important. I know that viewing my niece's artwork, and that of her classmates at Pratt, was important. I know that me being sick with a cold that came out of nowhere is important. Perhaps not all for this particular Word that is doing its thing inside of me, but for another sermon, at another time. Percolation is not easy. It can be frustrating. It can feel like procrastination. It can even feel like the Holy Spirit isn't on speaking terms with you. But friends, if my last preaching moment was any indication, God works best in the percolation phase--when we allow the text to marinate, sit a while, and do its good an perfect work in our lives.