Preaching to Empty Seats

Whether you know it or not, whether you believe it or not, whether you are willing to admit it or not, there is a connection between empty seats and an empty preacher. Sometimes, there is so much chaos in the church that the connection is a blurred line. Oftentimes, due to the preacher’s acts of omission, the connection is a dotted line.

Frequently, as a result of the preacher’s sins of commission, the connection is a straight line. Then, in rare, but real instances, due to the preacher’s past and personality, the connection is an equal sign. Nevertheless, there is a connection between empty seats and an empty preacher.

In a certain sense, it seems quite unfair to place the responsibility for empty seats at the feet of the preacher. What about offensive church officers who refuse to change? What about apathetic members who couldn’t care less? What about an increasingly secular society which has less and less tolerance and time for the church? What about a poor economy which forces would be church goers to work on Sundays? Surely, the preacher is not singly and fully to blame for all of those empty seats. True enough.

However, what was true for President Harry Truman in the White House is just as true for the preacher in the church house. In spite of all the hands that touch it, all the eyes that see it, all the ones that pass it, the buck stops there at the preacher’s feet. Furthermore, the explanation of the existence of so many empty seats rightly starts there. For, an empty preacher can very easily and quickly empty the seats.

Make no mistake about it, there is a difference between a full preacher and an empty preacher. For the full preacher, Sunday can’t get there fast enough. For the empty preacher, Sunday comes way too soon. For the full preacher, the pulpit is a mountaintop from which to proclaim: “Thus saith the Lord!” For the empty preacher, the pulpit is merely a stage from which to recite rehearsed lines. For the full preacher, prophetic words spout out as righteous indignation. For the empty preacher, piercing words spew forth simply as unbridled rage.

For the full preacher, the sermon overflows with grace. For the empty preacher, the message devolves into a tirade of gripes. For the full preacher, the parishioners are seen as a flock of hungry sheep dying to be fed. For the empty preacher, the parishioners are regarded as a pack of ravenous wolves who have gathered to watch the preacher die.

An empty preacher feeds others, but does so with frustration. An empty preacher faithfully delivers the gospel, but has a hard time being fresh. An empty preacher can be counted on to show up, but is more burned out than filled up. An empty preacher hears the command of Jesus: “If you love Me, feed my sheep.”, but is so preoccupied with his or her own starvation that he or she hardly has time or energy to nourish others. An empty preacher may have once sought success, but now would be satisfied with mere survival.

This difference is discernable by those who occupy the sanctuary seats. They feel it. They are affected by it. They are impacted by it. They are hurt by it. They talk about it. They complain about it. They are turned off by it.

They assemble at church expecting victory and, instead, they get venom. They make their journey to the house of God to hear about justification and, instead, they are served judgment. They rush to the service seeking salvation and, instead, find cynicism.

They come for a sense of confirmation and, instead, they receive condemnation. They leave their respective places looking for true love and, instead, they are given a tongue lashing. Over time, rather than subject themselves to such treatment from the pulpit, they vacate the premises and leave empty seats.