In his illuminating history, Lincoln at Gettysburg, Gary Wills dismantles the myth of Abraham Lincoln's hastily scribbling a few words for off-the-cuff remarks at the Gettysburg cemetery. In all likelihood, Wills says, the speech was honed over a period of several days, being fine-tuned even on the morning of the cemetery dedication. Lincoln was obsessed with finding the right word, and the right word to follow that word. He would have agreed with Mark Twain that the difference between a right word and the nearly right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug.1

Lincoln's speech on the "new birth of freedom" was conceived in 272 words. The words acted. Lincoln's words of peace instilled peace in the crowd. His words of hope inspired hope. His words of unity bound the grieving nation together. Later, in his second inaugural address, Lincoln's words about "malice towards none, charity for all" would both console and forgive. The distinction between words and deeds is often artificial. Words are deeds.

Lincoln's words evoked a comprehension of the past and a vision for the future. His simple words were amplified by his humanness and his magnanimous spirit. Lincoln's spirit comprehended the spirit of the moment. He combined common language with uncommon grace and power, to enable others to understand the world as it is and as it can be.

The kind of speech delivered by Lincoln is what J.L. Austin calls "performative utterance."2 The ability of words to work change in the lives of its hearers stands on the twin pillars of authority and appropriateness.

Is it possible that today's pastor could rediscover the revolutionary precision of speech exemplified by Abraham Lincoln? And why has this precision been lost? More important, could pastors recover the kind of congregational authority necessary for a prophetical-priestly role? This God-anointed role would manifest itself in preaching, worship, counseling, visitation, and the various types of crisis intervention that are common to the ministerial task. People of the congregation would have a renewed sense of confidence because the pastor is able to utter a right word in due season.

Part of the reason for mundane pulpit speech stems from the confusion concerning the word extemporaneous, literally meaning "from the moment." The two following definitions demonstrate that extemporaneous has highly diverse meanings: "(1) composed, performed, or uttered offhand, without previous study or preparation; unpremeditated, as an extemporaneous address. (2) in speech classes, etc., spoken with preparation, but not written out or memorized, distinguished from impromptu."3

Unfortunately, most evangelical American ministers have adopted the first definition rather than the second when they think of "extemporaneous preaching." Extemporaneous is assumed to mean spontaneous -- i.e., without preparation. Yet no effective American preacher ever has adhered to this premise. For those who divorce the life of the mind from the life of the spirit, pulpit speech becomes benign and shallow. They do not realize that the anointing of the Spirit is best found in a constancy of devotion, rather than in an occasional impulse.