Quotes About Sermon

I never sleep comfortably except when I am at sermon or when I pray to God.

I never sleep in comfort save when I am hearing a sermon or praying to God.

Preaching has become a byword for long and dull conversation of any kind; and whoever wishes to imply, in any piece of writing, the absence of everything agreeable and inviting, calls it a sermon.

Honestly, I would think I would go way back to Biblical times and be one of the guys who saw Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. It would be so cool to see what he was really like in person.

In forty-nine years of churchgoing, I have never heard a sermon preached on this passage. And for good reason. It reads almost like a tasteless, private email message that was mistakenly forwarded by the recipient to readers who were not meant to see

Joshua grinned: "I think we'll both do better than my cousin John and his 'hold them underwater until they agree with you' sermon.

Like any great speech, the Sermon on the Mount sounds as if it just happened spontaneously, but actually Joshua and I worked on it for over a week

A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon.

A holy life is in itself a wonderful power, and will make up for many deficiencies; it is in fact the best sermon a man can ever deliver.

A man can preach no better than he prays.

The best sermon is preached by the minister who has a sermon to preach and not by the man who has to preach a sermon.

Every man is a priest, even involuntarily; his conduct is an unspoken sermon, which is forever preaching to others.

In a sermon titled "The Use of Money," John Wesley preached a concept that can be summarized as, "Earn all you can, save all you can, give all you can."1 That's prosperity with a purpose!

As we tune our ears to the kind of preaching that makes the primary point of the sermon the primary point of a particular passage of Scripture, we grow accustomed to listening to God.

expositional listening benefits the gathered congregation.

She knew he was telling the truth, the kind of unsavoury truth that only monsters were at liberty to tell. He had no need to flatter or cajole; he had no philosophy to debate, or sermon to deliver. His awful nakedness was a kind of sophistication. Past the lies of faith, and into purer realms.

Lander's talk verged on a sermon, concerning the dilemma of finding your purpose once you've slipped the yoke of slavery. The manifold frustrations of liberty.

If sex is the sermon made of art, love is the lady of that tower.

When I first entered the ministry, I dreamed of communicating God's Word so powerfully that people would mull it over and discuss it during the week. I envisioned impassioned discussions of the deep theological truth I'd presented in the sermon. I must have been smoking something.

I grew up in a church where we studied one passage or topic in the Sunday sermon, another in Sunday school, still another on Sunday night, and something entirely different on Wednesday night. Frankly, I never had much of a clue as to what we were studying—something related to the Bible, I suppose. The teaching was far too disjointed to create any sense of focus, and for most of us it was more of a data overload than anything else.

In particular we'll look in depth at sermon-based small groups, a lecture-lab model for studying the weekend sermon in-depth during the week. We'll see how they work. We'll explain why they have the power to make your church especially sticky. And we'll discover why so many of the traditional small group models we've tried in the past sound great but don't work all that well in real life.

I often have people come up to me after a sermon and show me their outline, pointing out some blanks they filled out before the message began. You can see in their eyes and sly smile a sense of "Look, I got you!" In reality I got them. If they're jotting down a passage, a point, or one of my favorite sound bites before I say it, they've come to the point of knowing the information. In the ultimate sense, my message has become memorable.

And this reminds me of my own village church where, during sermon-time on bright Sundays when the birds are very musical indeed, farmers' boys patter out over the stone pavement, and the clerk steps out from his desk after them, and is distinctly heard in the summer repose to pursue and punch them in the churchyard, and is seen to return with a meditative countenance, making believe that nothing of the sort has happened.

The sermon is now the true poppy of literature.