I am not the biggest fan of sermon series, although I have done plenty, even one or two going for what seemed an eternity of Sundays. It doesn’t take long until you see the torture in people’s faces, the squirms in the pews, and the predictable head bobbing (usually just by the deacons who used to march in and sit on the front row of most Baptist churches). I always know that if I’m tired of the series, everyone else must be too.
That said, I am going to start a series this Sunday. I have this urge every four years to get on the bandwagon for the Olympics and do my part by preaching acronomic (a homiletical sniglet) sermons heavily loaded with applicable lessons learned from the agony of defeat, from victory out of struggle, and the shame of dropping the baton in the relay of life.
How can you not do your part to pass on the Olympic torch and help light a fire in the world around you? Even McDonald’s does their part with their own version of the Olympics, giving us all opportunities to eat more double-cheeseburgers than anyone else, becoming McChamps and taking home the prize of free fries.
I’m actually looking forward to the next three weeks. If you’ve looked at the texts a few weeks out, there are some real tie ins, even beyond all of the bread texts (think carb loading) of the Bible.
Maybe I’ll offer fries.