I was a 20 year old college student when I got my first job as a regular preacher. I had led a few worship services in our college chapel and I had participated in a team of students that traveled to area churches to lead worship, but I had not been a preacher prior to that job. Suddenly I was responsible for a sermon every Sunday. I was a student and I had gained confidence in my ability to write, and I had achieved modest success as an orator on our high school speech team, but I didn’t really know much about preaching. I wrote a manuscript every week and I delivered them. Looking back, I am grateful that the small congregation I was serving was so tolerant of my beginner’s mistakes. I got nervous every week. Sometimes I was so glued to my manuscript that I barely looked up at the congregation. Some weeks my ideas were vague and unfocused. Often I addressed the anxieties of a college student more than the lives of the folks in that rural Montana town.

I was nervous about the task every week. I didn’t get over the butterflies in my stomach during that experience. I was, however, headed for theological seminary. I had already decided that I wanted to become a minister and during my time in that position I was accepted as a student in care of my Association and I applied to theological seminaries, choosing Chicago Theological Seminary as the destination for the next phase of my education.

From time to time during my seminary years I had opportunities to preach a sermon. I prepared sermons for preaching classes. I preached at student chapel. I was unsure, however, about pursuing a career as a preacher. I managed to complete two internships without preaching. My first internship was as a youth pastor in a church with seven clergy on staff. When the senior pastor was not in the pulpit there were five other ministers in line ahead of me eager to preach. My second internship was as a pastoral counselor. There was no preaching in the nearly two years I did that work.

My advisor in the clinic where I served as a counselor as well as the director of the series of church-based health clinics, encouraged me to seek a position serving a local congregation for two or three years before returning to full-time health care ministry. I took their advice and Susan and I sought a position we could share as co-pastors. Later I would joke that I didn’t realize that it would take me thirty or forty years to get two or three years’ experience as a pastor. The truth is that I quickly fell in love with parish ministry. It wasn’t the preaching, at least in the early years, that was most attractive. I was drawn to the people I was serving. I loved to hear their stories. I enjoyed visiting their homes. I looked forward to hospital and nursing home visits. I got joy from facilitating local church meetings and organizing the congregation’s work. I loved the challenge of crafting liturgy including writing prayers and responses and even choosing hymns.

I still got nervous about the preaching task. Initially, we rotated that task so I was preaching only every-other week. During the summers the two congregations we served met at the same time so we alternated churches, switching each week. That meant that I was able to use the same sermon two weeks in a row, preaching at different churches. Occasionally members would “catch” me by attending the other congregation, but it was a source of jokes, not complaints from the congregations.

We continued the pattern of sharing the preaching task for the first seventeen years of our careers. When I accepted the call to the Rapid City congregation, however, I became responsible for preaching every week. I remember my nervousness in the early years of that responsibility. I would have an upset stomach every Sunday morning. I took to hiding in my office before worship, simply saying that I needed the time to be ready for worship. I visited with church members after the service, but tried to avoid them before worship. As the years passed, I became more comfortable with the preaching task. In addition to weekly worship, I preached at weddings and funerals. I became active in the work of the conference and national settings of the church and occasionally had the opportunity to preach in other settings. I preached the opening worship at a Conference annual meeting. I preached to a congregation composed mostly of national staff persons at the Amistad Chapel in the building where those who served in our church’s national setting worshiped. Among the congregation at that service was the general minister and president of the denomination.

I worked hard at preaching. I studied other preachers. I listened to a lot of recordings. I made a conscious practice of distinguishing between oral and written language. I developed a small reputation as a good preacher. I started to enjoy the challenge of the task. I became less nervous about delivering a sermon.

Then, in the summer of 2020, 47 years after I took that first preaching position, I retired. I delivered my last sermon and stopped preaching. I accepted one invitation to preach, on Palm Sunday 2021. It was a sermon delivered over Zoom from my living room, without facing a congregation. That is it. Even though I served two years as an Interim Minister of Faith Formation, I did not deliver a single sermon in those years. I missed preaching, but reminded myself that it was time for new leadership to emerge in the church.

Tomorrow I step into the pulpit to deliver a sermon once again. It is a single opportunity, to fill the pulpit while the pastor takes a week off. The congregation is small, similar in size to the one where I began my preaching ministry as a student. It is also rural. This church is located on an island.

And I am as nervous as I used to be. Yesterday I delivered my sermon to the chickens and cat at the farm. I’ve been going over it again and again, making changes every time, wondering if it is relevant and contains words that will connect with the congregation. I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to preach once again. I think I would like to do it more often. Still, I am very nervous. Perhaps I have become too old. Maybe I’ve lost the touch. Certainly I’m out of practice. I can’t remember how I learned to relax about preaching. I guess it isn’t like riding a bicycle.

I’ve written an entire essay on preaching and I haven’t even delivered my second post-retirement sermon yet. As eager as I am, I know I’ll be relieved when the service ends tomorrow.