#625. Sermon Body Language
During my Senior Year of high school I decided to sit on the front row at church. I didn’t do this because I wanted to be closer to my parents or the pulpit. This was not a noble attempt to break free of the distraction of sitting with all my friends so that I could perhaps hear the word of God spoken more clearly.
I sat on the front row because I was an idiot in high school.
I realized that with our u-shaped chair arrangement in the Marlboro Middle School Cafeteria, (shout out to churches that meet in places other than churches) I could sit directly across from the youth group section of the congregation. I could see all my friends and make faces at them during the whole service. I could flirt with my girlfriend and essentially “perform” on the front row for all my friends. So although geographically, my seat said “front row focuser,” my body language yelled, “look at this idiot.” Although we’ve never spoken about it, I’m sure that my contribution to the service was less than appreciated by my father, the Senior Pastor.
But maybe he didn’t notice what I was doing? Maybe he was so lost in the moment of speaking that my annoying adolescent antics (alliteration) didn’t even phase him? Maybe he is such a consummate pro that I didn’t even make his sermon radar?
It’s possible, but I want to be honest with you, I would have noticed.
Whenever I speak I tend to laser focus on the person that is paying the least amount of attention. Perhaps I am a masochist but I tend to scan the crowd and lock on to the person that is completely zoned out and thinking about whether it would be weird to buy a rock tumbler as an adult? Seriously, you always wanted one as a kid when they were in those massive Sears catalogs they printed at Christmas and you’ve got an income now. You’re the adult, if you can eat cereal for dinner and ice cream whenever you want, why couldn’t you just up and buy yourself a rock tumbler? That’s the guy I watch when I speak.
And maybe you’re that guy or girl. Maybe you’re tuned out. If so, I want to tell you the three worst types of Sermon Body Language you can throw at a speaker.
1. The Rip Van Winkle
Ever fallen asleep during church? I’m not talking about during a long, lights are down prayer moment. I mean right in the middle of the sermon. Ever done that? If so, I hope you enjoyed it, because the days of casually doing that are over my friend. I was in a big meeting a few months ago and one of the higher ups fell asleep. How did I know? Someone showed me the photo on their camera. They had taken a snapshot of the sleepy person and it spread like wildfire in my circle of friends. I’m not saying that if I ever see you sleeping when I speak, I’ll stop what I’m saying, walk close enough to hear your soft little snores and take a photo that I then post on Stuff Christians Like, twitter about and add to my facebook page, but I’m not saying I won’t either.
2. The Arm Fold Head Shake
By this point, everyone knows that when you fold your arms over your chest your body language is saying, “Whoa, I’m building a wall with my arms and mentally shot blocking whatever it is you’re telling me.” And then on top of that, I’m going to add a head shake instead of a head nod, the shake being a sign that like a Portuguese Water dog, after a brisk summer swim, I am shaking away any words you’re throwing at me instead of nodding along in agreement. Whenever I speak somewhere I do a humor litmus test to gauge the percent of AFHS in the crowd. I basically just tell the Booty God Booty story and if arms start crossing and heads start shaking immediately I scratch my ear which is a signal to my wife to start the car and crack open a window for me to crawl out. Things are not going to go well for me.
3. The “Look at my Arms”
A few weeks ago I spoke at a retreat where they created a fill in the blank outline for my talk. During the fill in the blank portion of the message I noticed a handful of people scribbling down the words I was saying, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw one guy stretch his right arm onto the back of the chair. “Hey, maybe that guy is a southpaw. Maybe he’s writing down all these insightful words I’m saying with his left hand.” I thought to myself. Nope, a few seconds later he put his left arm up on the seats. He sat there, arms outstretched, not even to lovingly cradle someone as he was sitting alone. It was as if he was saying, “Look at my arms, this is when I should be writing notes down but I don’t even need to. I put my handout on the floor, next to my keys, which I’ll probably kick at some point if you start going on to long. Look at my arms, not note taking here. I would if there was something ink worthy being said.”
Those are the three worst forms of Sermon Body Language. Want to send your minister a different signal? Lean forward, with note paper in hand, and a glint in your eye that says, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry right now or maybe do both but I’m learning, I’m listening and I might even be life changing right here in my seat.” Or at the bare minimum fall asleep in a section of the church where it doesn’t look like people have camera phones.
What’s the worst sermon body language you’ve ever seen?
