The Kayfabe of Preaching

Some of you will know what kayfabe is. And by confessing that you’ll either expose your love for the stage or (and most likely) your knowledge of professional wrestling. You in wrestling when Hulk Hogan pretends to really hate Sgt. Slaughter because he sold out to the Iraqi’s? That’s kayfabe. It’s pretending like staged events are actually true.

When a wrestler “breaks kayfabe” they are pulling back the curtain and letting the fans see a glimpse into what is really real and not what is pretend real. Back when I actually watched wrestling kayfabe was a big deal. Guys would lose their job if they broke character. It was very unprofessional.

Though it kind of sickens me to make this analogy, there is a type of kayfabe to preaching. I’m not meaning that what the preacher is doing isn’t actually real or anything like that. I’m simply saying there are “industry standards” that preachers are supposed to follow. There are tips of the trade we learn in school and in books. Things you aren’t supposed to do and rules you are supposed to follow.

Many preachers will not break kayfabe. I think it is out of a desire—a very noble desire—to protect the sacredness of the pulpit. We preachers want to seem like what we are doing in putting together a sermon is something quite special and not many others could do what we do. Personally, I’m not convinced this is the case. I think given the write training most anyone could put together a decent sermon. But being called to preach and being able to preach a half decent sermon are two different things.

I’m saying all of this to say I’ve intentionally broken kayfabe in preaching and I’ve found great benefit in doing so. I’ve pulled back the curtain and said, “Here is what I a preacher is supposed to do at this point”. Or I’ve said things like, “Here are the goals that you are trying to accomplish when you preach a sermon…” Just little things to take out the stage-acting and help the people see what’s really real and not pretend real in preaching.

I’m convinced that what is really real is far better than to pretend I’m someone I’m not. I understand there is a gravity to preaching. I get that and I want to preserve that. I also understand that a preacher can be so disorganized and “human” that the people don’t benefit at all from his supposedly “Spirit-filled” ramblings. I’m not for that either.

I simply believe we ought to be authentic in the pulpit and out of the pulpit. By this I don’t mean I use the pulpit to give people a glimpse into my very real life. Or that I throw my family under the bus and tell stories which help the people know we are real people to. I’m speaking of something different. I’m talking about preaching in such a way that will probably give me a big fat F in my seminary classes. A way of preaching which doesn’t try to pretend like this jar of clay is something more.

This is how Zack Eswine has said it:

Greatness, even in ministry, cannot escape humanity. Being human does not mar greatness; it informs it and sets its noble boundaries. How have we come to think otherwise? Whatever desire we may crave for ministry, we do so as one whose big toe can itch and whose sockless feet get cold in winter. (The Imperfect Pastor, 36)

Preaching is a sacred thing. A wonderful and glorious thing to be used by God to stand before people and say, “Thus says the Lord”. But let’s not pretend that we won’t need a nap afterwards.