I grew up Christian, as some of you know. As a result I’ve heard hundreds of sermons.
Seriously, hundreds: I grew up Christian, and never took any longer than three-month break from attending a church. (And during that time, I was going to daily chapel, which was mandatory in seminary.) So, since I grew out of the childcare program at the age of five: One every Sunday, and sometimes two. One during many a midweek evening service. One every time I went to chapel, both in school, and when I taught school. Three to ten during conferences. At least one every time I listen to preacher radio, or download a church’s podcast. I listen to my own pastor’s sermons twice: Once on Sunday morning, and once again as I scrub the audio for podcasting. So no, I’m not kidding when I say hundreds. It’s possibly thousands.
Since many of these preachers tap the very same sources for sermon illustrations, the result is I’ve heard thousands of clichĂ©s. Some of these preachers haven’t been Christian as long as I, so they don’t know these stories are clichĂ©s, and even if they do, they inflict ’em on people anyway. Sometimes they love these stories, so if they weren’t clichĂ©s already, by golly these preachers would make them their own personal clichĂ©s if they could. They’ll trot ’em out over and over again, like a dog breeder who loves to show off his prize-winning poodle, and doesn’t notice the poor thing is 15 years old, covered in bald spots, and limping.
About a decade ago I was obligated to listen to some Christian radio, and the announcer decided to tell the starfish story again.
If you haven’t heard it by now, your church attendance sucks. It’s a mainstay of maudlin preaching. Goes like yea: Starfish washed up on the beach; there’s a kid throwing them back into the ocean; an adult notices this and comments, considering the number of fish, how futile this activity is, and “what difference will it make?” The kid, undeterred, states, “It’ll make a difference for this one,” and flings that starfish into the sea. And this is a parable to encourage us to plug away at any impossible-looking task. We may not change every life, but we may change one.
Now all it needs is to be made a poem, and people will put it on posters. Well, I beat y’all to it.
With a bit of a twist. See, when I tire of things, or grow irritated with them, I deal with them by parodying them. If you were expecting my poem to warm your heart… that’s not gonna happen today.