The Sunday Afternoon inner voice: "Was my sermon good today?"

As preachers, we’ve all probably been there. It’s 2:00 PM on Sunday. The service is past us, lunch dishes are cleared, and the "Sunday Afternoon Shadow" has arrived. Perhaps as a hollow feeling that follows the adrenaline of the morning. You replay your words, analyzing the faces in the third row, and asking the question many preachers battle:

“Was my sermon actually good today?”

Maybe you tried something different. A new illustration, a story, or a creative metaphor to connect the Bible to current life. You really dedicated yourself to provide a moment of connection and instruction, but now, after the Sunday lunch is over, the inner critic starts to whisper:

“Did that actually make sense to anyone but me?”

“Was I just being an entertainer instead of a preacher?”

“Did I miss the mark entirely?

Was it just more of the same? 

You replay in your head the faces coming out of the Service and shaking your hand, trying to guess what's on the minds of many of them.

Compliments and the Sermon's goal

At the door, the preacher may get the usual "Good sermon, Pastor." He smiles as he weighs the enthusiasm of the handshake and/or the warmth of their faces against his own sense of performance. Or he just keep telling themselves "the centre is Christ, not my writing and delivery", knowing though that this may not be enough to silence that little voice.

We know it, but we need to hear it again: compliments are not part of the goal of a sermon. Because we don't want to connect proclamation's effectiveness to a human production and the congregation to an auditorium of either cheerers or judges. If the need of validation nags at the need of proclamation, we may be watering down the message of forgiveness and mixing it with auditioning for approval. A truly "good" sermon might actually leave a congregation quiet, reflective, or even a little uncomfortable as they wrestle with the Spirit. 

But let's concede for a minute that compliments are important, say, as a metric to help us understand how well we are communicating and connecting with our public.

Then, how many are enough?

How many "good job, pastor" and "nice sermon" validations does it take to silence the inner critic? Ten? Fifty? The truth is, the number is never high enough. There's good chance that, after a line line of a hundred people praising your exegesis and application, you may still fixate on the one or two that looked down, looked away or read the church bulletin while you were in the pulpit.

When we ask "Was it good?" what we may be really asking is, "Am I okay? Am I enough?" 

The flipped card

In one of my recent sermons, I used a card trick to illustrate how the devil uses one "flipped card"—one mistake, one insecurity—to convince us that the "whole deck" of our identity and work is ruined.

The irony? As preachers, we are prone to fall for that same trick. We take one quiet congregation, one or two members who looked to their phone during the service, or those who stared at the walls and we let it "flip the deck". We tell ourselves the message is not connecting, even halfway through the sermon itself, because we didn't see an immediate, visible and rewarding response from the pews.  Not to mention that we are judging the way in which people pay attention to sermons according to our own standards. I once had a professor who listened to sermons by crossing his arms, bowing his head, and maybe even closing his eyes. Three of the worst "body language signals" a speaker can get. But I'm sure he could tell you, if asked, he  how any part of the sermon landed.

When that afternoon shadow falls, we need to discern where it’s coming from. Does it come from healthy preaching? Sometimes we feel a weight because the Word we preached is heavy. True Law and Gospel ministry is taxing. It’s the some holy exhaustion of sowing seeds in hard soil. Or is it self-image? That happens when it is rooted in our self-perception. We feel "down" not because the Word wasn't spoken, but because we are worried about what people will think about us and our work. We fear we looked awkward, or our "hook" felt clunky, or we didn't sound as polished, or as sharp, as the podcast preacher others admire.

If your let your peace of mind draw too much on how well you performed, you are exchanging the Gospel as your resting place for the living under the Law of "doing enough."

Why Your "Creative Risk" Probably Worked

If you’re feeling that uncertainty Sunday after Sunday, consider it as a good opportunity of self-evaluation and improvement on your human skills. As a chance to look inside and check if worry about self-image and reputation is drowning your zest for sound biblical preaching.

 But it might as well be that your message hit deeper than you think:

_Silence is Often a Sign of Depth: We often mistake a lack of chatter for a lack of interest or boredom. In reality, when a sermon addresses the "interior monologue"—the hidden fears, the secret shames, the longing for hope—people can go quiet because they are inwardly digesting it. They have been seen and talked to. And that generates reactions that doesn't always translates into smiles and nods.

_The Word is the Ground: If you pointed your people away from their own performance and toward the grace of God in Christ, and the new life it generates, you did your job. The goal of a creative hook isn't for the congregation to walk out impressed by the messenger. They probably do appreciate your style and delivery, but they need to walk out resting in the Message.

_You Provided a Mental Framework: If you used a relatable analogy, story or a creative "hook", you gave your people a tool they can actually carry into their week.  

At any given Sunday, if you preached God's Word, you didn't fail. You weren't "entertaining"; you were translating. Your identity is not the sum of your Sunday morning performance. If you are certain that you poured into it your best to make it:

1)anchored your Sermon in the Scriptures

2)centred in Jesus

3)proclaim the forgiveness of their sins

4)aimed at their benefit in their daily life

5)filled with the best of your ability to illustrate, deliver and connect,

then the Gospel you preached to them is for you, too. You told them that they don't have to "earn" God’s favour. You delivered them Law and Gospel, the Word of God, in its pure power of its proclamation.

The sermon is over. The Word is out. The results belong to the Holy Spirit. You will certainly appreciate any compliments coming your way, but your task of proclamation are not defined by them. The Word you preach every Sunday is the Word of the One who sent you.

Relax and enjoy your Sunday afternoon.