We have already spoken of the importance of audience identity. But the issue of "like" is powerful. People want the preacher to believe what they believe in just about everything. They like their heroes — cultural or subcultural — to behave, dress and think as they do.
I remember when George W. Bush went to the World Series to throw in the first pitch of the World Series, shortly after 9/11. I was so impressed with the fact that he wore a brown bomber jacket and a pair of brown slacks, I caught myself wearing a similar jacket and pair of slacks the next day. I never realized I was doing it until my wife remarked that I looked "presidential" that day. I suddenly realized that most people are anxious to imitate or at least to celebrate people they admire. I had never really isolated the feeling before. But Bush had earned my copycat esteem. I could see that in his world where any one of a hundred thousand people might have taken a potshot at him, it really was an openly courageous thing he did especially at that intense time of national paranoia.
Advertisement
To a much lesser degree, most people either like their pastor or they have a strong yen to admire him or her. One shouldn't make a god of this adoration lest we leave off speaking the word of God in favor of what would make us popular. But to care about this as much as we might brings a camaraderie into communication, which would not be there were we to act in ways that might intentionally "jangle" them.
This is so important to me that I call every church where I am to preach on any given Sunday. I call to see what the detente is in terms of style, worship, and politics. In evangelical churches, Democrats are increasingly in short supply. If the preacher is honestly a Democrat, he or she does not have to become a pseudo‑Republican just to "butter up the audience," but it would be wise not to antagonize them for unimportant reasons. In a nation as deeply divided as ours is, it is just smart to avoid saying anything deeply partisan, with passion. As the cliche runs, pick carefully the "hill you want to die on."
Obviously, this concern about good lighting is not a "hill to die on" for itinerants like me. I simply accept having to preach in dark old, poorly‑ illumined sanctuaries, many of which were built before electrification had become sophisticated. But for local pastors, it may be that they will want to explore what might be done to get light on the pulpit.
I have twice preached in a dimly lit church where the people were looking back at me with that "squinty eyed" stare that one sees in theaters as the lights are being dimmed. The worst thing about such poorly lit sermons is that people need to be able see the passion, the body language, and the drama of what they attend. Great words spoken in darkness quickly become invisible as well as inaudible.