Reflections on Lincoln Sunday

What can I say about Sunday? I enjoyed the service, which I thought fit really well together. We sang some of my favorite hymns, including "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross." (In fact, I'm almost willing to say that "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" can make any worship service great, regardless of anything else that happens.) The weather didn't hurt either.

My focus on Lincoln Sunday, though, is always on the sermon. I find the Lincoln sermon very challenging. Part of that is because of my rather extravagant goals for the sermon -- that it push my knowledge of Lincoln and theology, that it be a reflection of that knowledge, and that it be accessible. I enjoy the process, but it takes a long time to write that sermon. From my brainstorming in the summer and fall, to my book list around December and January, I spend lots of scattered moments thinking about the sermon. But this pales in comparison to the amount of time I actually spend writing it. By length, it's the equivalent of writing a fifteen-page research paper.

Needless to say, I'm a little tired this week, recovering from last week's push. (Though, with lots of Lincoln-related things this week, I've not had lots of spare time to rest.) A part of me is just happy that it's over (like a student who's excited that final exams are past). But I also am relatively pleased with Sunday's sermon. I think it is honest and has important things to say about the sometimes very human nature of our faith. It was a little heavier on Lincoln than on God, which gives me pause, but I think that was because it was focused more on how we represent God to one another than what God truly is.

I also realized Sunday, when I was listening to the sermon, that it was intellectually challenging for me. When I was writing the sermon last week, I thought I might be letting myself off easy, and not asking myself tough questions. However, I realized that Sunday's sermon is an extension of some of my previous research on preaching after a tragedy. As I hope to continue researching that topic, with Lincoln in mind, but have done little serious thinking about it in the past year, I was pleased that subconsciously I'm still working on these questions.

That's what I meant when I said that the Lincoln sermon, more than any other all year, is really something I preach for myself. I don't think I shirk my duty to explore the gospel and the nature of our faith collectively, and I try hard to make the sermon clear to others. But I am pleased that so many people seem to enjoy the Lincoln sermon, even as I don't quite understand how that is. It is rewarding to have others praise something that you put lots of time and effort into -- certainly it's better than most of the alternatives. But I also think that it's a reminder for me of something I always try to remind others of -- God asks us to give the best of ourselves in his name; when we do that, we live faithfully. On Lincoln Sunday, I felt a little selfish, preaching a sermon focused so fully on my personal interests (and, even though I know better, I always feel the need to apologize for that); it's good to remember (again) that God often takes our idiosyncrasies, our unique interests and talents -- our gifts -- and uses them to benefit many other people.