Lessons Learned From the Harshest Sermon Feedback I’ve received

A letter.

From a former seminary professor.

One-and-a-half pages.

Single-spaced.

About everything I had done wrong in my first “official” sermon after being ordained.

I had graduated with my M.Div. only weeks earlier and was a guest preacher at a local congregation near my seminary.

By this time I had six, maybe seven, homilies and sermons under my belt between homiletics, field education, and my Senior Sermon.

Overall, I had received positive feedback.

My Senior Sermon was quoted in other sermons and casual conversation which showed it had resonated and stuck.

My homiletics professor had encouraged me to pursue a Ph.D. in the field. I respected him greatly and felt dumbstruck by his faith in me.

When I accepted the invitation to be the guest preacher, though, I was still finding my footing and it took me at least three weeks to craft a twelve-minute sermon,

I held a nascent confidence in my abilities to preach.

Until I read the letter.

Unbeknownst to me, my former professor was in the congregation and apparently taking notes (as this was long before recording sermons) given the detail with which he excoriated what he heard.

It was brutal. And I don’t mean only the critique.

It was brutal because I didn’t know what to do with my emotions, or how to find what I could learn from the evaluation—and what I was “allowed” to discard.

It took years, but here’s what I learned from that experience.

Spending Three Weeks to Prepare One Sermon is Not Sustainable

In the time he had with us, my homiletics professor did a wonderful job of teaching us the “what” of preaching.

Exegeting the text, sermon form and function, transitions from idea to idea, “landing the plane.”

I got it.

But I didn’t get the “how.”

How did I manage my time and what was the process to develop a sermon that was efficient, effective, and sustainable?

I had no guides to show me how it could be done because preachers with years-more experience than I seemed stuck with the same pinch points I had.

The Lesson Learned: Find a Sermon Prep Rhythm

It took me years to develop a pattern.

The pattern was biting off a bit of sermon prep each work day, with enough space between each session that there was time for what I learned to steep and marinate in my mind, heart, and encounters with parishioners through the week. In this space, the Spirit worked.

Once I had the pattern, I also had to commit to it.

I had to create and maintain boundaries around my sermon prep sessions.

The hardest part?

Learning to say no to someone when a request ran up against my scheduled sessions—and saying no to myself when procrastination sang its siren song!

Doing a bit of sermon prep each day is the pattern that works for me, but there are many rhythms that work depending on personality, working style, and circumstances.

That we find a rhythm and stick to it is what I wish I’d known from the get-go.

It would have saved me countless hours that I could have used for other ministry—or myself.

No Critique is Gospel

It is hard to receive criticism about our preaching, especially from someone we trust or admire.

My professor took the time to compose and organize his thoughts, type and print it, put it in an envelope, address and stamp it, then put it in the mail.

He was committed to letting me know what he thought!

He had preached for years but I was brand new.

What did I know?

I believed his every word.

It became gospel about who I was.

The encouragement I had received from the preacher I most admired, my homiletics professor, was now buried under the rubble of my demolished self-confidence.

Did the critique have some useful comments I could learn from?

No doubt.

But as I didn’t have anyone to ask for another perspective and I was too shaken emotionally, I couldn’t tell the useful from the not-so-useful, let alone the just plain hurtful.

Worst of all, his feedback shook my sense of self and identity.

the Lesson Learned: We need Other Preachers for Perspective

Will we preach some not-great sermons? 

Of course.

But do those not-great sermons affect the love, care, and support that are our birthrights as children of God?

Of course not.

That was another thing I wish I had learned early on: we need others for perspective.

I needed other preachers to show me the professor’s critique wasn’t the gospel truth.

I needed a few preachers who would be willing to read my manuscript and the critique and offer their candid thoughts so I could learn what I could, grow as a preacher, and gain the self-confidence to toss the rest.

I also needed them to show me by their willingness to stay engaged with me that I was still worthy of respect and belonging as a colleague.

I needed other preachers to show me my birthright remained intact.

A Plumb Line is Necessary

True, the critical professor was an expert in his field.

But his critique lacked something essential to both of us: the criteria against which he evaluated me.

He had a set of ideals that constituted what he believed was a worthwhile sermon.

I just didn’t know what that criteria was because he hadn’t shared it with me.

Effective pedagogy requires the learner to be aware of the criteria for evaluation before setting out to tackle the skills set before them.

Even if I had received the criteria in advance, was the authority he assumed earned? Deserved? Appropriate?

I needed help, too, on setting my plumb line of who had earned the right to offer a critique.

the Lesson Learned: Agree on the Criteria for Feedback

Before granting authority to another to appraise our preaching, we need to agree on the criteria.

What are we striving to do in a sermon?

How will we know whether the sermon meets the criteria?

What defines an effective sermon?

Preacher and appraiser need to be working from the same page before engaging in a conversation as equals, with shared authority.

Had I known what constituted an effective sermon, I would have had a tool to more astutely edit my sermon before I preached it.

If I had known what I was aiming for, would it have prevented his remarks?

Perhaps not, but at least I could have judged for myself whether I had met my own standards, and that was more important.

REsilience & self-Care are Essential to Engage the vulnerability of preaching

The vulnerability of preaching comes from being emotionally exposed.

We put our beliefs, experiences, theology, and relationship with God on display.

We demonstrate our skills-in-progress to preach compellingly with relevant sermons that touch and transform.

It’s part and parcel of the work that we’ll receive comments about all these and more: our weight, our hair, and the sermon they heard but we didn’t preach.

Although this post has focused on a harshly critical moment, of course comments will be negative and positive.

Negative comments can wound and undermine our self-confidence, leading to preaching self-protectively.

Positive comments—if believed as gospel—can expand our egos, undermining our willingness to learn.

If we put a lot of stock in what listeners say—unless they offer constructive, specific, actionable comments—our beliefs in our call will only be as strong as what we heard about our last sermon.

the Lesson learned: Preachers Must Cultivate Resilience & Self-Care

Practices of resilience and self-care need to be created, practiced, and revised over and over, again and again as we change over our lifetimes and ministry circumstances.

These were not practices I had, and I paid for it by becoming a perfectionist about my sermons, spending too much time and energy on them, doing everything I could to ward off the criticism I imagined would come if I didn’t.

Resilience is cultivated in at least a few ways.

One is having a regular prayer life when God reminds us perpetually, of our birthright: love, dignity, and respect.

Another is by gaining self-confidence in looking back at our life experiences and the hard things we have already come through.

It’s likely that even the harshest sermon critique is not as hard as something else we’ve endured.

We’ll get through this, too.

A third way we cultivate resilience is by having small goals we reach for and attain.

Proving to ourselves that we can learn and grow, that we can incorporate our experiences and make them available to the glory of God, lets us know we will learn from this as well.

And self-care?

Does it even need to be reinforced or spelled out anymore?

We only need to look back and compare the times of not taking care of ourselves, the times we did so half-heartedly, and the times we prioritized it above all else, to see its effects not only on our preaching, but our whole lives.

Practices of resilience and self-care are needed to show up authentically, honestly, and courageously, sermon after sermon, year after year.

Want to Build a Thriving Preaching Life in 2025?

I wish I’d learned these lessons and received the guidance I needed before being sent out into ministry.

I also wished I hadn’t learned them by myself over a lot of years and a lot of sermons.

If I had, I would have preached differently, been less guarded and revealed more self, if that makes sense.

I’d have been more relaxed, I would have been less serious and laughed more, and I would have spent more time with my family.

This is why I’m so eager to invite you to join our free preaching community, The Preacher’s Haven.

This week, we’re offering a free, 5-day challenge to build a thriving preaching life in 2025.

We’ll learn (or reinforce) some of the lessons mentioned above—all for the sake of the gospel.

The day’s challenge drops each morning, and you can pop in to explore the resources and engage the activities when it best suits your schedule.

I hope we see you there!