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Now, I actually don't care to have us chase down issues related to Pfleger and his view of Obama or Clinton. That's another conversation for another day. What I want to point out is an issue Mattingly brings up in his column concerning Pfleger the preacher, not Pfleger the politician. Mattingly writes:

It's natural to watch these cyber spectacles while muttering, "What were they thinking?" The answer is quite simple, according to Father John F. Kavanaugh of St. Louis University. Like many preachers before them, they fell for the temptation to "preach to the choir," their listeners who already agreed with them.

And Pleger isn't alone in massaging feet at the expense of stepping on toes. Mattingly continues:

It's easy for preachers to keep telling the faithful what they want to hear, [says Kavanaugh]. Preachers must be self-critical and become aware of when they avoid some tough subjects or choose to soften a message, in order not to offend. The flip side of this is when preachers decide to pound away on popular subjects and easy targets, seeking to please people who are already in the pews.

As we start our sermons for the week—or tweak what's already on the page—perhaps Pfleger's example ought to rattle home a reminder to avoid playing to the crowd at the expense of proclaiming the truth. When you're tempted to draw a line through a certain sentence, to soften a blow, to stop short of producing holy discomfort in your listeners—stop and really think it through. You might still delete, soften, and ease up, but do so only after having run it through the careful filter of what God would have you do, regardless the cost. And it will cost you—just as it would have cost Pfleger a lot more if he had chosen to raise a few issues no one in the room probably wanted to hear. But we aim not for the affirmation of applause or laughter or hearty slaps on the back, but the affirmation of transformation, in all its messy glory.

But a question remains: how can we assure we don't shirk the prophetic mantle?

Perhaps we should invite friends to identify the moments we pull our punches.

Our planners are so full that we hold them together with duct tape, but perhaps we need to carve out more time for reflection—both before and after the sermon—to soberly determine what we think God wants to have happen, what actually happened, and how we were either an agent in it happening or not happening.

Or what about the suggestion Mattingly and Kavanaugh brilliantly suggest in their article—that we ought to read some of the "greats," immersing ourselves in a time when far fewer preachers were scared of holy discomfort. In other words, let's maybe read a little more Edwards and chase it down with some Whitefield.

I don't know—a few thoughts here and there. I want to hear from you. What else can we do on this journey that avoids playing to the crowd at the expense of proclaiming the truth? Do you have a system to make sure you're prophetically pastoral in your preaching? What are some of the red flags that let you know when you might be shirking your responsibilities a bit? Anything else you'd like to add to these thoughts—both mine and Mattingly's?

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