Teaching, Not Yelling: A Pastor’s Struggle to Make It Make Sense

As a pastor, how do you handle the desire to both shepherd and stretch people during your sermon or teaching? Do you ever worry that your lessons or sermons might be too deep, intellectual, or academic (whatever word you want to use) for your audience?

I do.

Maybe you’re not a pastor, but how do you feel that your pastor handles the question above? (Maybe you’ve never thought about it, but I often do.)

The congregation I pastor is a group of people I love, and I’m trying to preach and teach God’s Word to them faithfully and thoughtfully. So they can grow in knowledge, understanding, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.

Like most congregations, we have everyone from middle school students to people with multiple advanced degrees. We’re a mix of singles, married, divorced, and remarried people, spanning pre-teens to those well into their 90s, all together in a worship service, hearing the same message.

So what do I do? What do you do? As the one with the weekly responsibility to preach and teach, the so-called “gatekeeper” of the pulpit? Do we stop or simplify? Almost every time I tried “simplifying,” I felt like I was selling the text short and doing a disservice to my people.

I can’t stop at least trying, right?. Actually, it may be deeper than that. I don’t think I should. I believe I have to keep pushing, keep teaching, and keep stretching…even when it feels like too much.

1. My Preaching Philosophy (What I’m Trying to Do)

At the heart of my preaching, I’m more of a teacher than an exhorter, encourager, or evangelist. (Though I try to do all of those things, too.) However, my primary goal is to find ways to help people learn and to understand the Bible, its concepts, and theological truths.

What I’m trying to do isn’t new. But it’s not always popular or prevalent, at least not in my neck of the woods. In this area, it’s a lot of volume, tends to be high-octane, repetitive, and a whole lot of shouting about hell (as if the preacher’s got a time-share there…and while this is a joke, I hope it helps you get the idea).

My goal is that I want you to learn. I want you to know how to read, study, and apply the Bible on your own. We are all called to “rightly handle the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15). My desire is that, when a member of my congregation is asked a spiritual or theological question, they’re prepared. They will not have every answer, but they’ll have a foundation.

And when they listen to someone else preach, they’ll do so with discernment and be able to process what’s said with wisdom, not just be impressed by “big words.” Mainly because they’ve heard those words before, been taught their definitions, and have been taught how to think critically and biblically.

2. The Tension (The Teaching Fear or Struggle)

Let me try to give you an example of my fear.

The other night, during a mid-week Bible study, someone raised a question, and it turned out to be a question about the “Gap Theory.” This idea is that there’s a period of time (a “gap”) between Genesis 1:1 and 1:2. (If you’re curious, there are people who explain it much better than I do, and you can click here to explore that further.)

So after identifying it, I gave a brief, rudimentary explanation and shared my personal view. Because it was only a side question, not the focus of the night, I moved on and continued with the main lesson.

But afterward, three or four people came up with more questions about the theory. One person, a constant encourager, told me, “There needs to be an entire lesson(s) just on these kinds of theological topics.” I agreed. In fact, even as I write this, I’m looking at my teaching schedule and trying to find a place to include a few sessions on it.

This is a perfect example of my tension: I often give people information without providing enough context or time to truly understand it. That’s what I fear: teaching that’s technically accurate but practically inaccessible.

Let me be clear: I don’t believe in an elitism of Christianity. I don’t hold to some secret or hidden knowledge of Christianity that only a few can access. I’m not a Hall of Fame scholar. Academic ideas don’t come easily to me. (Actually, I got in trouble often with teachers, professors, and other students due to asking, “Why would this matter to a person in a pew?”)

But I did grow up craving people (teachers and pastors) who weren’t afraid to teach rich, biblical truth, even if it meant I had to stretch to understand it.

3. The Misconception (About the Audience)

Let’s push back against a common idea: that a church congregation craves a simple message.

It doesn’t.

I think my congregation is incredibly intelligent and more than capable of understanding big theological and biblical concepts. Only if someone will take the time to teach them.

After one particularly heavy and deep lesson, an older gentleman approached me and said, “You’re tired because you’re holding their hand and walking them into deeper waters of understanding. They’re scared, but someone has to do it. And right now, that person is you.” He got it.

That conversation stayed with me.

And to be honest, that’s why I sometimes feel frustrated when I hear people say things like, “I can’t learn that,” or “That’s too hard for me.” I love my church and my community. They are great people. I think they can do more, learn more, and understand more.

Can a congregation be “Simple?” No. I don’t believe any person or congregation is simple.

We’re an average-to-small church, located in a small town. Can you use other words, like Rural to discribe the group? Absolutely.

However, my rural congregation deserves to be taught with knowledge and boldness, whether the topic is Christology, the Gap Theory, or the immutability of God. (And yes, those are some of the topics we’ve discussed recently.)

Because it’s not about impressing them, it’s about equipping them.

4. The Hope & the Why

There’s a lady in my church, and she has taught Sunday school for years (actually decades) and has probably taught more Bible than I ever will.

And yet, every now and then, she’ll come up to me after a service and say, “I learned something new today.”

She’s not trying to flatter me. It’s not ego-boosting. It’s a genuine thank you for studying, teaching boldly, and going beyond the basics.

In my opinion, that’s one of the best feelings in the world. I also know this: if I ever said something wrong or out of line, she would be the first to tell me. And I’d listen. That’s what makes her encouragement so meaningful.

So why is it so important to me that people learn deeply?

Because I still believe that the more someone learns about Jesus and what the Bible actually says, the deeper their relationship with God can become. It’s not about information for information’s sake. It’s about formation. Growth. Intimacy with God.

Scripture tells us that the role of the church is to “equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ” (Ephesians 4:12). That equipping includes teaching, preaching, and rightly handling the Word of truth. And that calling of preaching, teaching, and handling God’s Word doesn’t rest on pastors alone. It’s for every believer.

To go.
Grow deeper in God’s Word. To understand more.
And to live it out.

Pastor Mark’s Takeaway

It is absolutely my responsibility as a pastor to preach, teach, explain, and do my best to be prepared every time I share from God’s Word. I also understand that my style (cadence, presentation, and how I explain certain concepts) may not be for everyone. I get it.

BUT…

What if every church truly believed its people were willing and capable of wrestling with the weightiest truths of Scripture?

Would our faith look stronger then?

What would our churches look like?

Would we respond to the world’s questions with more clarity, grace, and wisdom? Would we grow deeper in our faith, stronger in our understanding, bolder in our witness?

I think we would. And I think that’s worth the effort.

So I’ll keep teaching and trusting that God’s Word, taught faithfully, will do the work it’s always done: change lives.