Dear Preacher
Dear Preacher,
I really do hate this part of my job, but I suppose someone must do it. You’re definitely going to want to sit down for this; it seems I’m the bearer of bad news.
I’m afraid we’ve decided not to “pick up your option” this year, so to speak. That is, we’re letting you go.
Now don’t get me wrong, we think you’ve done a marvelous job (that joke you told last Sunday was brilliant! “Coffee break’s over…” Ha! That line gets me every time! You know, you have a real knack for making people laugh?). Still, sadly, your artistry just doesn’t seem to be necessary anymore.
After intensive biblical review we’ve discovered that your particular set of skills is actually best suited for proclaiming the good news of Christ’s death and resurrection to people who otherwise don’t already know about it.
Well, surely you see the problem. That just isn’t news to folks around here anymore (which I suppose explains why you’ve had to work so hard at making your speeches so wonderfully entertaining of late. In the absence of real news, entertainment is the next logical choice for keeping people’s attention). Worse still, the latest demographic information tells us that emerging generations aren’t drawn by preaching, and the best theologians are telling us that entertainment has no place on Sunday morning.
Now, I want to assure you that we’ve looked high and low to find a suitable place for you. We immediately thought the classes and small groups would be the best fit, but it turns out those are already full of teachers, and, to be perfectly frank, they say you talk too much and don’t leave room for dialogue (just between you and me, though, I think they don’t want to compete with your charisma). In fact, truth be told, we’ve decided the best thing to do with Sunday mornings is plug in a good, strong teacher with an ESV Bible to “feed the sheep,” so-to-speak, along with a stiff shot of ancient liturgy (I don’t mind telling you we’re quite excited about that one!).
Next we thought of outreach ministries, but everyone there says preaching scares folks off and sends a message of “manipulation.” After all, those good people are busy feeding the poor and they did just buy that big red banner that says, “No strings attached!” So, I suppose they do have a point about mixed-messages and all. I guess you could say that, as a vintage, preaching just doesn’t pair well with the soup they serve! (Sorry for the pun, I suppose I should leave the humor to you!) However, they did ask me to invite you to come and say a prayer before the meal. Well now, that’s something, isn’t it?
Of course parking lot ministries won’t do; you don’t lead a rock band (do you?); you don’t know how to edit video or run a multi-media team; and you’re far too overqualified to maintain the facility…and, well, that pretty much covers everything we do here at The Great Western Church.
I truly am sorry – but you know, you can’t appreciate how hard this has been on me! This is all been rather awkward. I’ve tortured myself to find an alternative place for you, but I just can’t think of a suitable job in a post-Christian culture for someone who’s gifted, trained, and compelled to be a herald for the gospel.
Ah well, chalk it up to changing “market forces” I suppose. Enclosed you’ll find your severance check. Best of luck to you and all our prayers as well.
Sincerely,
The Committee on Ecclesiology



Ouch. I think you’ve tapped the pulse of the American people, and the way that it is moving. I only wish I knew what to do now- sit around and wait? No one wants to listen anymore, they’re all too full of their own noise…
Well written, though, Jason.