The problem is that we give way too little thought to the first thing we say. Yet this is the moment when you'll either lead people or lose them. Because when attention is highest, trust is most fragile. They are eager to be fed and led. They want to know where you are taking them and if they can trust you as the guide. THIS IS YOUR OPPORTUNITY! Because the first statement sets the tone for everything that follows. - It provides direction so your people know where you're taking them. - It gives them confidence that you're about to lead them somewhere significant. - It signals that the next 20-30 minutes have the potential to change their lives. Think of it as the doorway into your sermon. It should be inviting, clear, and compelling. - A strong first statement might name the tension in the text. - It might articulate the question your sermon will answer. - It might recast cultural expectations. - It might be a firm proclamation of hope. What it should NEVER be is wasted space. Too many sermons lose momentum right here, in the first 30 seconds after the text is announced. Here are three simple examples of first statements using actual biblical texts. ✅ Example 1: The Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32) "You are not too far gone to come home." ✅ Example 2: The Feeding of the 5,000 (John 6:1-15) "What you have is not enough, but what Jesus has is more than enough." ✅Example 3: Jesus Calms the Storm (Mark 4:35-41) "The same voice that silenced the storm can silence your fear." SOME BEST PRACTICES... - Don't read the opening sentence. - Memorize it. - Look them in the eye and provide direction with your opening sentence. The congregation is ready to listen. So let's not squander the opening moment. Treat your first statement like the precious, valuable real estate that it is. - Make it clear. - Make it compelling. - Make it count. - Show them from the very first sentence that you know where you're going and how it can change their lives.

As a pastor for over three decades, I can relate to the struggle. The sermon application struggle. We're good at explaining the text. But application is hard because it requires a different homiletical muscle. So we default to shallow, surface-level application. Here's the difference. Shallow application says: "This passage teaches us to love our enemies, so this week, be nice to that difficult coworker." Deep application asks: "What does it reveal about my heart that I've labeled this person my enemy? What am I protecting? How does the gospel dismantle my need to be right, to be vindicated, to be superior?" A shallow application says, "Jesus calls us to generosity, so start by giving 5% more this week." Deep application probes: "Where have I made money my functional savior? What am I afraid will happen if I loosen my grip? How does my spending reveal what I truly believe about God's provision? What would it look like to live like a beloved, adopted child vs an orphan with my finances?" Shallow application says, "We should forgive because God forgave us. So forgive your spouse." Deep application wrestles: "Why does my identity still depend on holding this grudge? What payoff am I getting from my bitterness? How have I made myself the victim and them the villain? What would it cost me to release my right to revenge... and why does that feel like death?" The difference isn't just depth. It's direction. Shallow application points outward to behavior modification. Deep application points inward toward heart exposure, then upward to gospel rescue. Surface-level application gives us the illusion of control. We can measure it. Track it. Check it off. Attend church every week. Read three chapters daily. Pray for ten minutes. Volunteer once a quarter. Give a percentage. Post a Bible verse. Surface application feels doable in our own strength. Deep application is terrifying because it requires total surrender. It means admitting we can't fix ourselves or bear fruit apart from Jesus.

Here's a tough question. Be honest. Are your sermons like a biology class? Point one, point two, point three... where you cut up the text until it lies dead on the table. The Bible isn’t a textbook, so we don’t need to preach it like a textbook. It is a drama—a drama of redemption. Dramas don’t have main points; dramas have movements. They have acts or scenes, and usually four of them: 1. The stage is set. 2. The conflict is introduced. 3. The hero shows up. 4. New life is now possible. **Organic Movement vs. Artificial Points** Points tend to be artificial and mimic a lecture. Movement is organic and mimics a story. So, what if your sermon could mimic the story of the gospel? Here’s how I approach it. Instead of static headings, I use a single keyword to create a natural progression through the message. This flows organically through four questions that mirror the scenes in a story: - Scene 1: What is the truth about that keyword? (The stage is set) - Scene 2: Why do we struggle to live out the keyword? (The conflict is introduced) - Scene 3: How does Jesus fulfill the keyword for us? (The hero shows up) - Scene 4: How do we now get to walk the keyword in new life? (New life looks like this) - We answer that final question by grace, in the power of the Spirit, as we live in union with Jesus. **Leading Listeners on a Journey** Do you see the difference here? Points tend to stop the flow with mental whiplash after every different point. Movements carry the listener along a path. It’s a journey. We start with the truth of the text. We move through the resistance of the human heart and flesh. We land safely in the finished work of Jesus, with an opportunity for change rooted in our union with Christ. Your people don’t need a list. They need a Savior who meets them in their mess and gives them not just the promise of new life, but the power to experience it. **A Redemptive Narrative** God didn’t just relate to us in bullet points.

You want to preach grace. But you may be (unintentionally) preaching more law than you think. And yes, law precedes grace. But once the law has done its work, leading us to Jesus, everything changes. We don’t live against the law. But instead of duty and obligation, grace becomes the motivation and the Spirit becomes our power source for change. Do this (if you dare). Listen to a recording of a recent message. How often did you use the words "must," "should," "have to," or "need to"? Yes, these words can be connected to grace. But if that connection isn’t explicit, they are heard by the listener as words of obligation, duty, and responsibility. Words that imply that God's acceptance is waiting on the other side of our obedience. Learning the Grammar of Grace changes everything — especially when doing sermon application. For example, - If the grammar of the Law application is "We must." - The grammar of the Gospel application is "We get to." When you shift your language, you shift the motivational posture of the heart. It seems like a small semantic change. But it really is the difference between law and gospel, a wage and a gift, an obligation and an opportunity. Here’s how to apply the Grammar of Grace to a topic like generosity. Instead of demanding people give more, walk them through this sequence: - Question 1: What is the biblical truth about generosity? - Question 2: Why do we struggle with generosity? - Question 3: How does Jesus demonstrate generosity? - Question 4: What opportunity for generosity is now possible? When you answer Question 3 with the cross, Question 4 (the applicaiton) changes. This means, we’re not called to generosity to prove or secure our standing. We’re called to be generous because (as recipients of mercy) it reflects the greater generosity of Jesus. Good questions people are asking... (1) "But won't people think obedience is optional?" This is the fear that keeps pastors locked into law language.

With a thousand different ways to outline the text, I used to rewrite my outline 10 to 15 times before I landed on a final version. I think I spent more time re-outlining than actually working on sermon content. Everything changed when I decided to toss my conventional main point outline and narrow everything down to one word. I called it a keyword. Not a phrase. Not two words. One word. I was stunned. It not only provided expository focus but also led to homiletical clarity. My study was far more profitable, and my message was far more focused. Here’s how it works. Once you have your keyword, use it in the answer to these questions: 1. What is true? 2. Why do we resist what is true? 3. How does Jesus redeem our resistance? 4. In union with Jesus, what change is now possible? Suddenly, the sermon writes itself. Your exegesis has a target. Your applications become "get to’s" instead of "have to’s." But here's the best part. Your people start to see the same gospel pattern every week. They begin asking these four questions on their own. Your preaching becomes a discipleship tool, not just a Sunday event. Now, I know what some may be thinking. "Won't this be too limiting?" "What if my text has multiple themes?" "Doesn't this oversimplify Scripture?" Here's what I discovered. A single keyword doesn't limit your sermon. It focuses it. You're not ignoring the richness of the text. You're tethering it to one central idea. Think about it. When someone asks a congregation member on Monday, "What was the sermon about?" they're not going to recite three points and multiple sub-points. They're going to say one word. Or maybe a short phrase. So why not give them that word from the start? Why not make it easy on your listener—and on yourself? 🙂 COMMUNITY QUESIONS TO DISCUSS: How have you experienced using the keyword as you build PPGR sermons? How has it helped? Where have you run into challenges? BONUS: Watch on YouTube and share: https://youtu.be/B8P2eAN2k3o