Preaching, for me, is an art—an art of presence and communion. It is not performance or persuasion, but a practice of deep listening. When I preach, I enter a space much like spiritual direction—a space of shared awareness rather than control. Something within me quiets. The sense of self as performer falls away. In that letting go, a deeper connection arises, with the gathered community and with the Source from which all words come.
Preaching is a living art form, a sacred practice of participating in the movement of Spirit. Like painting or music, it emerges from silence and returns to silence. It is less about what I wish to say and more about what wishes to be spoken through me. Preaching is both expression and encounter, a meeting place of the human and the divine.
Every word, every pause, every silence carries possibility. The sermon is not a finished product but an unfolding, shaped by the listening hearts of those gathered. The congregation is not an audience but a partner in creation. Presence, more than content, becomes the medium through which transformation occurs.
There is freedom in preaching this way—a freedom born of surrender, of trusting the mysterious rhythm that moves the words. Art and Spirit meet here. Language becomes a conduit, not a container. The preacher is both artist and instrument, allowing the sacred to inhabit the ordinary, to inhabit me, and to meet the hearts of those who listen.
The work is never about crafting the perfect sermon. It is about cultivating attentiveness, receptivity, and a willingness to be moved. It is about letting the sacred speak through the ordinary. In this space, preaching becomes prayer. It becomes a way of being fully alive, fully awake, and fully present.
