“Swinging for the fences” is a baseball term. It embodies the idea of the batter swinging the bat with all his might every time he steps up to the plate – always aiming at hitting a home run if possible. In baseball, I suppose it is a useful and universally true maxim. But it might not be the best metaphor in other places – such as preaching.

In both my own experience and in conversation with others – those of us who preach and teach come to realize pretty quickly in our endeavors that this preaching thing is a very strange beast to ride.

Most men I know want to do it well. We study. We critique ourselves (I hope). We seek outside critique (I hope even more). We prepare as best we can. We listen to others who we think do it well. We strive after maximum impact every time we step into the pulpit. We try hard. So far so good.

But this idea of swinging for the fences when we preach might need some examination.

For instance – what is our actual aim when we preach? And how are we measuring our success, or lack of it, in preaching? Compliments? Tears? “Whoosh” moments? Personal vigor? Congregational response while in the act? Email follow ups? Conversions? If we’ve swung for the fences, how do we know when we’ve hit the home run? How do we even define the home run?

All of us can probably remember a sermon or two, that looking back over time, have stuck with us. They’ve had a singular and lasting effect on us. They stand out. And we can want to preach that kind of sermon too. That’s not bad in and of itself in that we always hope to be effective. But I want to argue that if we locate our effectiveness in hitting sermonic home runs – we might need to rethink some things. Not the least of which is – especially as pastors – preaching and teaching the same congregation year in and year out. Unless there is an unusual move of God, extraordinary actually, our people are not going to leave each week saying “Wow! That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard – my life is changed forever.”

Not gonna happen. Not gonna happen.

May I suggest to you that the fences we need to be swinging for are located more in faithfulness to the text, than in anything else. That we hit the home run when we best preach what the text is getting at. When the Biblical point of the passage is brought home with as much clarity as possible. And that, irrespective of the subjective responses – our own OR other’s. Feelings aside.

In fact, what I am driving at most in this short missive is the idea that Jesus pressed on Peter in John 21:15-17 – “feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep.”

In other words, our ministrations in the Word are first and foremost wrapped up in the daily, weekly, year after year – common feeding God’s people his provided means for their spiritual health and welfare.

Neither Anthony Bourdain (when he was alive), Wolfgang Puck, Rachael Ray, Giada De Laurentis, Bobby Flay, Jamie Oliver nor Gordon Ramsay ever imagines they will cook up and serve up a meal so transcendent that the ones eating it will never need another meal again as long as they live. It will instead be eaten, hopefully enjoyed, digested, and not to be indelicate – cast out into the draught.

So it is with our sermons. The home runs are not in singular sermonic events, but in the faithful preparing of that which nourishes the soul on a consistent and regular basis – a sound, spiritual diet. That alone sustains the soul. It is in the regular care and feeding of souls in the exposition of God’s Word that the game (if you will) is won.

My dear brother – feed his lambs, tend his sheep, feed his sheep. Take the superstar pressure off of yourself. Get up to bat in the pulpit each week swinging for these fences.

Be more concerned about regular scriptural and spiritual meals at home, than making a fast break for home plate.