Exposition alone is not preaching. That is teaching. Preaching is more than the delivery of biblical data. Preaching is the heralding of truth that lays claim to the soul. It is truth through personality, yes—but more than that, it is truth pressed upon the conscience with divine authority. It is the living Word proclaimed by a living man to other living souls, calling them to believe, repent, rejoice, tremble, and obey.

Like many preachers, one of my favorite things to read are sermons from the past. Whether it’s Martyn Lloyd-Jones or the golden-mouthed John Chrysostom, I’m always intrigued by how faithful men throughout the ages have communicated God’s Word to their hearers. But also, like many of you, I find myself struck by how different much of our modern preaching is from that of the saints of old.

I don’t mean different merely in terms of tone or eloquence or even what some might call “power,” though there are differences there as well. I mean different in method and emphasis. Our modern sermons, by and large, seem like entirely different specimens than what I find in the pages of Samuel Davies or Charles Spurgeon, for instance.

Homiletics Classes: Necessary but with Caveats

I took several preaching classes while in seminary. They were helpful in many ways. Each class typically culminated with the student preaching before his peers and professor, where he would be evaluated on the quality of his delivery, the clarity of his exegesis, his transitions, his adherence to time limits, and so on. These are good things. Exegesis, clarity, structure—none of these are enemies of faithful preaching. They matter.

We were also encouraged to read books about “the big idea,” “three-point sermons,” how to craft introductions and conclusions, and other such mechanical tools of the homiletic trade. Again, these are not inherently wrong. Much of it is useful.

But looking back, something vital was consistently underemphasized, if not entirely absent: unction, pleading, and prayer. It’s not that these themes were completely missing—they were mentioned here and there. But they were certainly not central. They weren’t treated as the lifeblood of true preaching. They weren’t the priority.

Perhaps that’s understandable since it’s hard to simulate unction in a classroom. The setting itself almost guarantees artificiality. After all, how can you genuinely plead, woo, and exhort to a room of peers who, ironically, are grading you on your “performance”—let’s call it what it is in such a setting. The very act of evaluation alters the nature of what’s happening. You can’t be both prophet and performer. The former demands the unfiltered urgency and gravitas of heaven, whereas the latter is shaped by the pressure to succeed in the class.

This is not a critique of homiletics classes per se, nor is it to suggest that every seminary does it the same way. I don’t claim to have the blueprint for a perfect preaching course, nor do I expect a classroom to produce a pulpit. I’m simply noting that, in my own experience—this is where the drift begins. You learn to preach in a certain way. That way is somewhat stilted. You see others doing the same. A certain preaching culture is then formed. A method is normalized. And over time, what may have started as a small shift away from “the ancient paths” becomes the new standard, and no one is the wiser.

Have We Overcorrected?

Another factor contributing to the state of modern preaching is the broader evangelical landscape. In much of contemporary evangelicalism, the sermons are light on Scripture and heavy on sentiment. The preacher paces the stage like a motivational speaker, sharing humorous anecdotes, personal stories, and inspirational platitudes. The Bible may be read, perhaps even quoted once or twice, but rarely is it opened up and explained. The exposition of the Word is eclipsed by the personality of the preacher. The result is a kind of religious entertainment—slick, polished, emotionally charged, and hollow.

In response to this trend, the Reformed world has rightly recovered a high view of Scripture in the pulpit. We insist that preaching must be text-driven. We labor to explain what the passage means, in context, with careful attention to grammar, history, and theology. We train our men to open the Word of God and preach it faithfully, verse by verse. This is a needed corrective. Faithful preaching must be anchored in the text.

But here is where we must be careful. For while the Reformed response has been correct in principle, it has sometimes fallen short in practice. We have corrected the sentimentalism of evangelical preaching by replacing it with exegesis—but in doing so, we have too often stopped there. We have taught our men to expound the Word but not necessarily to preach it.

Read More