Gymnastics and Preaching

by Bill Ireland

Although the 2024 Paris Olympics are in the rearview window, lots of memorable moments from the games will stay with us for some time. Katy Ledecky outpacing her opponents in the 800-meter freestyle. Steph Curry making three clutch 3-point shots to lead Team USA to a gold medal. Simone Biles showing dogged resolution in rebounding from a case of the “twisties” in 2020 to bring home the gold for herself and the women’s gymnastics team.

As it did for so many, the gymnastics captured most of my attention. The combination of strength, artistry, and performance requires no small amount of dedication, training, and practice. As I watched those athletes compete, the phrase “poetry in motion” kept running through my mind. Although gymnastics competition and preaching are worlds apart, there are some similarities between the two. What these extraordinary athletes do in performing their routines can teach us a lot about the craft of preaching.

Here’s what I mean:

• Every routine, for example, had a definite beginning. Whether it was the music at the start of a floor routine or someone taking hold of the uneven bars—the athletes were dialed in, and knew it was time to begin. A good sermon starts well and gets the congregation’s attention. Yet, how many of us have cluttered up our beginning with unnecessary stuff? Perhaps we feel the need to hit an announcement hard even though it’s in the order of service, it’s on the website, and it was just mentioned before the service began. Or we can be tone deaf to the fact that some extraordinary music has set the stage for our sermon. The atmosphere breathes anticipation. But we can kill the moment by not doing our job. When it’s time to preach, preach!

• As the gymnasts performed their routines, the broadcast analysts frequently called attention to the “connection” or flow between skills. For some athletes, one move led seamlessly to the next. Others, however, lacked rhythm, and their routines seemed slightly mechanical or disjointed. Whatever our sermon is about, we will engage our hearers better if our sermons flow well, if the connective tissue seamlessly binds the pieces of a sermon together. Awkward transitions can muddle up a sermon and wind up taking our listeners nowhere. They can lose the thread tying the sermon together. Our best sermons possess an organic integrity where all the moves add up to something significant. All the more important, then, to pay attention to how the parts of a sermon contribute to the whole.

• Naturally, we all groaned whenever we saw a gymnast fall off the beam or miss the parallel bars. Given the fact that these athletes have invested years preparing for this one moment, we would think they might hang their heads in disappointment and just give it up. Not so! Every time one of them fell or slipped, she or he got back up and finished the routine. Few things are worse than realizing as we’re preaching that the sermon is going nowhere. When this happens, we’d rather sit down than stand and deliver! Still, it is part and parcel of our calling to preach and do our best. Somedays we’re on; others, we’re not. No matter. We have to finish, being glad and grateful that we don’t have to carry the moment, learning again that God can and does work despite our imperfection.

• When a gymnast sticks the landing, the crowd roars, the gymnast flashes a beautiful smile, and the team offers their congratulations. Sticking the landing can atone for miscues during a routine, but a good ending can save it. In our most effective preaching, we “stick” the landing. We bring the sermon to close in such a way that it makes an impact on our hearers, often creating a “holy moment.” A well-crafted ending brings all the content of the sermon together in such a way that the congregation gets what we were attempting to say and forgets any miscues along the way.

• A final note. Very few gymnasts receive a perfect score for their routine. As gymnasts perform, judges carefully scrutinize every portion of a routine and notice slip-ups that result in point deductions. Despite all their hard work and preparation, a gymnast rarely gets it all right. The same is true of preaching. Despite our highest aspirations, not every sermon will be our best effort. We can’t deliver every sermon flawlessly. I heard somewhere long ago that every sermon is actually three: the sermon we prepared to preach, the sermon we actually preached, and the sermon we wished we had preached. That’s about the truth of it. The good news is there’s always next Sunday, and we have yet another opportunity to do our best.

These points of commonality between gymnastics and preaching all boil down to one thing: to do well we have to work at it. Good preaching requires that we tend to our craft by getting feedback, learning from other preachers, and keeping at it Sunday after Sunday. The goal of better preaching is not to win a competition. No, we aim to be better preachers so others can hear the gospel clearly.