Penned this while I waited on the storm last night. Nothing special poetically, but a grand lesson.

I sat among my books last night
and marveled as I mused
at just how much was written there
and how little I’d infused—
of fact and figure, trope and truth,
of wisdom gained at crushing cost,
and as I sat among my books
I mourned my sorry loss.

Might you hazard a guess at what I have in mind by this expression: “preacher tone”?

If you reckoned on something like contrived showiness, an overly-stilted formality, an exaggerated intonation, all delivered in some strange rhythm and pattern, then you’re right on target.

I’m unsure of the history of this phenomenon, but I’m quite sure that the sooner we preachers get over it, the better. Where have we gotten this peculiar idea that our preaching voice should be, must be, something quite other than and decidedly odder than our everyday voice? Has tradition bequeathed this to us? Has the cult of personality in American religion helped establish it? Is there some element of idolatrous worship involved in sustaining its artificial life? These are painful but pivotal questions.

The “Oxford comma” is the comma placed before the word “and” in a list of three or more items for the purpose of clarification. The “Grammarly Blog” offers this humorous example of its merit: