Consider ... The Preacher. Whether tall or short, mop or marble-topped, skinny or not so skinny, he's not exactly a breath-taking sight, is he? And our TV-trained generation demands a sight for sore eyes.

Or does it?

Okay, so he isn't so attractive physically. How does he sound? It's been years since I regularly attended college chapel, but with many such services under my belt, I think I can speak knowledgeably about the average preacher's delivery. Generally, the Post Office does better. They say the mind can absorb no more than the seat can endure. Unfortunately, the ears of the average churchgoer are not nearly so hardy as the posterior.

Or are they?

For some time now I've wrestled with the concept of the pulpit ministry. I've asked myself, "Why, in a day of computers so sophisticated a child can see the world with a few clicks of a mouse --a day in which the operative word is 'see,' -- why is such an anachronism as the preacher tolerated?"

TV seemingly has become as necessary to our lives as the soap and burgers it hawks. Everybody knows about the Incredible Shrinking Attention Span, a river reduced to the width of a spill thanks to remote control, special effects, and the ever-shifting image. I consider the Preacher again: A person standing in one place, talking one thing for the ungodly space of 25 or even 30 minutes! You can't 'surf him, you can't 'click' him. You can only sit there and take it. Surely he is obsolete -- high button shoes on the feet of a church dashing into the twenty-first century.

Three years ago, the question "To preach or not to preach?" was of more than academic significance to me. It stabbed at my mind as I prepared to launch a new church. I'd read the Church Growth literature, attended the new church conferences, drunk deeply from the well of modernity. The expert consensus seemed to be "Up music and media, down pulpit and preaching."

At the time, this made perfect sense to me. After all, who had ever told me he came to church for the sermons? I knew that, statistically, a few do actually come for the preaching, but that percentage is negligible. Those on the cutting edge of evangelism report that image, not substance, attracts the Postmodern prospect.

The evidence seemed conclusive. Yet I considered preaching one of my strengths. At the very least, the notion of preaching appealed to me. What was I to do? As I started the new church, I decided to include preaching but make it as short and sweet as possible.

Now, more than 24 months and a hundred messages later, how do I feel about it all? Have abandoned the pulpit in favor of the skit and the video clip? Well, I have yet to move a pulpit into the movie theater where we meet. But I continue to use a music stand and I continue to preach. What's more, I'm preaching expository messages, much meatier than the fare I first served. And, to top it off, I'm preaching to a growing congregation!

There's Joan1 sitting there. She was raised in a denomination not noted for its preaching. She's been living with a fellow 'without benefit of clergy' for a couple years, but preaching has convinced her that God doesn't want her to live this way. It's convinced her friend, Don, as well. Popular wisdom has these two now shunning Sunday morning service like the plague. After all, you catch flies with honey, not vinegar. Nevertheless, Joan and Don, who have no desire to be married, are splitting up. They say it's what God wants them to do.