It looks so easy. Prewrite. Draft. Revise. Edit. Publish. Substitute “Preach” for “Publish” and you’ve adapted it to sermons. Just five steps and you’re done. The problem is that, even though we taught this to students for generations, it’s a myth. And the ease its simplicity promises is an empty promise. Further, the idea that there is a single, normative writing process that we all follow or all should follow is neither true nor helpful. Like most myths, there’s some truth in it, but it’s so obscured that plenty of ex-students still get the heebie-jeebies when it comes up or simply roll their eyes.
In this second post in this sermon writing series, we’re going to rethink the writing process as a series of choices you make to create a text—in this case, a sermon.
We'll build on that process by zooming in on drafting. Are you an outliner or a brainstormer? Let's find out.
Just as in my first post in this series, the approach is unapologetically pragmatic. You are not out there to win a competition for excellence in homiletics. You are out there to “feed the sheep” with the best fodder you can provide, while balancing other obligations of your calling. The goal of this post (indeed, this series) is to help you produce better sermons in the time you have.
What’s Wrong with the Writing Process?
So, what’s wrong with the old writing process? Bottom line: it’s an oversimplification of a very messy process into a linear form which students received from teachers (either intentionally or not) with a big fat “should” attached to it.
It doesn’t track the way writing works. In theory, it distills down what good writers do. But that distillation has lost the flexibility and purpose that controls what good writers do.
Re-envisioning the Writing Process
These days, writing teachers generally teach the writing process as looping, doubling back wherever necessary. The one I’m including is a little different than some versions you’ll find online because I want to emphasize two different but related goals writers struggle with: coming up with ideas and writing text. That’s why I have two “cycles.”
The idea cycle is more or less what would usually come under “prewriting.” This is where you’ll usually start your writing process (hence the arrow from this cycle to the other), but how long you stay will vary by person and by project. The writing cycle encompasses drafting (creating new text) and revision (making content-based modifications to existing text). They are cycles because you can go back and forth between them at will. And the cycles are linked with two-way arrows because you go back and forth between the cycles as your goals require it.
I’ve also added a critical step that gets omitted from the old writing cycle: receiving feedback. I recognize that many pastors aren’t able to do this in their writing schedule—but if you can make room for it, getting views from trusted pastors or laypeople is an incredible asset.
Finally, I treat editing (making style-based changes) and proofing (a final polish which sermons don’t usually get) as a reversible “off-ramp” from the cycle, because I want to emphasize the content-focus of the writing cycle.
What we get are two different goals that are sometimes separated in practice and sometimes not. We can jump from any point to any point as needed, because that’s what writers do. But there is a progression that is useful to note and a goal that we are aiming for: the sermon.
Something that doesn't show up in the diagram of the process, but which should go without saying, is prayer. It should begin the process, sustain the process, and follow it.
Individualizing Your Writing Process
I’ve substituted the prewriting step with two cycles, so how should you get started?
There are two very broad poles between which you might start your writing process and which you prefer is up to you. This is another area where writing teachers may cause harm, because they may have tried to force you into a mold that didn’t fit your way of thinking and writing.
I’m going to present two different hypothetical pastors’ approaches to creating a sermon draft. These processes pull together both cycles in the new process. They’ll be caricatures, but, you’re likely to see yourself in one or the other to some degree. [1]
The Outliner
Rev. John thinks of himself as left-brained. [2] He thinks long and hard when he preps a sermon. He writes down tons of reading notes, but keeps them well-organized. Before writing, he organizes his thoughts in an outline that maps out the whole argument, spells out each of the three points he wants to make, and only then does he begin to write a draft. The final version of his sermon is usually pretty similar to his first draft, with just a few edits for style.
The Brainstormer
Rev. Sue thinks of herself as right-brained. She may read a few things, write a bit to get some ideas in front of her, then go back and read a few more sources, adjust her thinking, and press on. Her writing process looks messy. There are false turns, deletions, and multiple iterations. Her drafts change radically over the process of writing before she gets down to editing for style.
Do you recognize yourself in John or Sue? If you fall between them, which side do you fall on?
I’ll go first: I definitely fall between, but in different ways at different times. I’ve created detailed outlines and then meticulously filled them out in Rev. John’s preferred manner. On other occasions, I’m much more free-form and messy like Rev. Sue. I’ve sat down and cranked out a draft, without knowing in advance what I was going to say beyond “something about X.” I’ve even written things in pieces and then puzzled them together after the fact. I find that I value the more free-wheeling writing for coming up with memorable turns of phrase and flashes of insight, while outlines are better when I have a kind of mental framework partly formed in my head before I get started.
What I want to emphasize is that these are tools and, just as it is silly to say that a hammer is better than a screwdriver, it is silly to elevate one over another. If different workers prefer using nails instead of screws, they are going to favor one over the other. Just so with outlining and brainstorming (and everything in between).
What I hope my own example emphasizes is that you don’t even have to stick with one over the other all the time. Every sermon is different. And you’re different from week to week. Go with what works—but if you lean toward one pole and haven’t tried methods on the other end, it’s worth experimenting at some point to see if they are actually more congenial to your workflow than what you were originally taught.
(How do you individualize your preaching so that it is authentically yours? Veteran preacher Dave Peterson shares his thoughts.)
Tips for the Outliners
The caricature of outliners is that they are less creative. This isn’t true. An outline is like a sketch that you make before you commit to painting a portrait. You’re not wasting energy or resources, but you are putting things “where they go.” You’re getting a form sketched out that can be filled in later. The outline isn't itself drafting, but it is a critical step for an outliner in creating a draft. It is a product of the "idea cycle" that sets you up for the draft.
Outlining makes use of your document as a placeholder for working memory. You’re not beholden to your mind to keep track of everything as you go. You’re less likely to run off in tangents as you write. That is, for an outliner, an outline is economical. You can get the big picture put together before working on the details.
The big question for outliners is: why are you outlining?
That is, you have choices about the kind of approach to the structure you could pick and your goals in your sermon matter. Are you mostly interested in narrative structure? Are you mostly interested in achieving a specific style of sermon (e.g., a 3-point sermon)? Are you mostly interested in how to fit your exegesis and application together? There are a variety of structures you can pick — but it really depends on what you want out of it. Some ways of outlining are just different focuses on a similar structure. Some will dictate the kind of sermon you write.
Let’s consider some of your choices for effective outlines. If you're an outliner, which is closest to the kind you use?
This version, from Carey Nieuwhof, is function-focused. Almost every sermon is going to spend time exegeting and teaching the text, then applying it. It follows an obvious trajectory: be a hearer or the Word, then a doer.
Another appealing variation on this approach would be the logically structured three-point sermon where the first two points are premises in drawing a conclusion. I’ve seen some sources recommend that the first point should be a major premise (categorical, universal claim) and the second be a minor premise (more specific, concrete). I’d not be quite so worried about respecting that structure, so long as your congregation can follow the train of thought. Sometimes, starting with the specific and concrete is more effective, because it is more interesting to most people than categorical claims (often more abstract).
On the other hand, I think that narrative structure is especially important for a sermon that is memorable and (crucially) not boring. This is not totally at odds with either of the outlines just mentioned, but the focus is different.
The crisis and cure can also be repeated and amplified across the three points of a sermon, just as the teaching and application steps are in the outline above. (For more on storytelling and sermons, see our exploration of the topic in "Preaching and Storytelling.")
As CT’s Monday Morning Preacher podcast points out, Andy Stanley has a person-related outline, while Joel Gregory has suggested a more time-related outline.
Stanley’s idea is great for remembering who we are speaking to and where the message is coming from. It’s not a treatise, it’s medicine for hurting people.
This is best when you have a difficult text that needs deep explication. Alternating between past and the present enables the congregation not to get lost in the details of the exegesis — it gives the knowledge of the text meaning. As the podcast mentions, doing this too many times runs the risk of losing people anyway, so keeping it from getting too extended is important. I’ve presented in a standard three-point way.
These don’t exhaust the options at all. You can craft outlines of your own or crib them from your old homiletics textbooks.
Remember, I’m pragmatic, so I’m not going to say that one of these is better or worse except as they help you communicate. But if you outline (or even if you’re experimenting with it), I would suggest trying them out and seeing if they unlock anything for you—if they make it easier to put your message into your document.
Finally, at least some of the people who write about preparing sermons suggest you really should create an outline in the process of writing your sermon. I disagree. What you must have is a structure that allows you to communicate well. You can do that without an outline. (The outline can even come last —as a mnemonic aid to preaching instead of as an aid to drafting — keep reading, I’ll explain.)
Tips for Brainstormers
The caricature here is that brainstormers are not as logical or analytic as outliners. But that’s not necessarily so. They are just more comfortable following the thread of their writing where it leads. Some may be energized by playing with words or have a hard time working out their argument in advance. In fact, those who are naturally more logical or analytical may feel they don’t need the extra logical support of an outline—that’s not the part they expect to need support for in their writing.
The key thing I would recommend for those who feel that they fall more into the brainstormer category is to take a cue from the freewriting exercises of the previous post. Minimize your editing as you write. Don’t get bogged down in trying to make your writing “pretty.” It’s too early to edit when you’re writing your first draft. Trust yourself to find the grammatical errors and cringey phrases on your next pass. Just get the words on the document.
I would also urge keeping a “scraps file.” If you go down a “wrong path” while writing, don’t delete it. Just shift it over to your scraps file. When you store text instead of deleting, you don’t have to worry about recapturing those old thoughts if you decide later that you need them. It’s just another level of freedom you can give yourself.
The challenge for brainstorming is ensuring that you get a good structure that communicates effectively to a reader. My next post in this series is going to address this issue in more detail. However, I want to address the structuring problem by bringing the outline back into the picture.
For many writers, being instructed to create an outline in advance may be stultifying and hamper their creative flow. But your writing teacher wasn’t wrong that structure is very important to effective communication. This is where using an outline to understand the structure you have already created is really helpful.
This is called a “Reverse Outline.” In brief, you look over what you have written, identify the main points of the paragraphs and list them in order. Then, identify the sections into which these paragraphs fall. Try to see if they fall into one of the structures from the previous section of this post. Does it fit into a three-point structure? Or maybe a narrative is clear? Or maybe there’s an argument you can see that is worth making the structure? (For more info on reverse outlines, see this page from University of Wisconsin. It’s meant for students writing essays, but the techniques work for sermons as well.)
An reverse outline also has the important role for preachers who memorize their sermons to serve as a mnemonic aid. If you are happy with your sermon draft, coming up with a reverse outline that will help you get back on track if you lose your train of thought is gold. You may already do this—just note that this kind of reverse-outlining is also a powerful tool for making your sermon better.
Know Thyself: Are You an Outliner or a Brainstormer?
Let’s go back to Rev. John and Rev. Sue. Which side did you find yourself on? Or were you in the middle?
Here’s your homework, should you choose to accept it (cue Mission Impossible theme), before you start your next sermon, do a 5-minute self-check. Think about only the last sermon you wrote. What was your process? Not, “what do I wish it was?” Just, what did you actually do?
For your next sermon, pick one “tweak” to your process you can borrow from the side you lean toward (Rev. John or Rev. Sue) for next time. Those in the middle get to choose. For the outliner: did the narrative structure outline catch your attention? Think of the story your sermon is telling. Reflect it in your outline (what are the characters/crisis/cure?). For the brainstormer: try starting your sermon with freewriting. Completely shut out your inner editor and let ‘er rip for 10 minutes. Or choose your own adventure! Pick just one thing and try it out.
Then, at some point in the future, when you have space to try something new, branch out and see whether the grass is greener on the other side of the fence!
What’s Next?
In my next post, I’m going to go into depth about revision. There’s a flaw I’ve seen in many sermons that is a natural effect of the difficulty of writing—but there’s also a great solution. It just requires a perspective shift. Want to know more? Stay tuned.
Notes
[1] I am adapting descriptions from Joy Reid’s “The Radical Outliner and the Radical Brainstormer” (TESOL Quarterly, 1984).
[2] Note on left/right brained people: the evidence suggests the thesis that people are either right or left brained is probably a myth. On the other hand, some of us like to work in a more linear or structured way, we may prefer analysis over flourish, or the other way around. That’s why I speak of them thinking of themselves this way.