“Do You Preach from the Bible Anymore?”

Not long ago, someone asked me a question that stopped me in my tracks: “Why don’t preachers preach from the Bible anymore?”

I’ll admit, I was taken aback. My first instinct was to laugh — not in a dismissive way, but in surprise. Because as far as I know, I do preach from the Bible. Every week, in fact. That’s literally where I begin. So, I took a breath and asked this person to tell me more — to unpack what they meant. I got curious. They weren’t able to fully articulate their answer, so I’m hopeful we’ll have that longer conversation, but their question has stayed with me. It’s made me reflect not only on how I preach but also on what people hear when we open the Scriptures together.

Because I do preach from the Bible. It’s at the heart of what I do. But maybe what this person meant wasn’t so much about whether Scripture was read or quoted. Maybe they were getting at something deeper — about how we interpret it, how we apply it, or even how we experience it together.

For me, every sermon begins in the same place: with a passage of Scripture. That passage is my starting point, the anchor for the week. I study it, I read it in different translations, I look at the verses before and after it. I ask: What’s going on here? Who’s speaking? Who’s listening? What’s the tension? What’s the hope?

Then I dig into the hermeneutics — that’s a fancy theological word for interpretation. I explore what the text might have meant in its original context. What did it mean for the people who first heard it? What was going on culturally, politically, or socially at the time? And then, once I’ve spent some time understanding the text then, I begin to wonder about the now.

Because for me, the Bible is not a museum piece to be admired from a distance. It’s a living word — a word that breathes, challenges, and transforms. The same Spirit that inspired those ancient writers still moves among us today, stirring us to hear anew.

After I’ve wrestled with the text, I look for where it connects to life. Sometimes that means sharing a story from my own journey. Sometimes it’s something I’ve seen in the community, or a moment from the wider world that echoes the same truth. Scripture becomes the lens through which I see the world more clearly — and through which I invite others to do the same.

Finally, I ask myself: What does this mean for us? How can we live this out? What difference does this make in how we treat one another, how we make decisions, how we embody love and justice and grace?

That’s my method, so to speak. That’s how I preach “from the Bible.”

So when someone says, “You don’t preach from the Bible anymore,” I wonder what they’re really longing for.

• Do they want more historical background?

• Do they want a verse-by-verse study, like a classroom lecture?

• Do they want to hear more about the text itself — the grammar, the geography, the original languages?

Or maybe they want less of my reflection and more of the raw Scripture read aloud. Perhaps they want less questions and more... answers. Maybe they’re longing for something that feels like certainty in a world that feels so uncertain. I can understand that.

The Bible has long been a source of comfort and stability for many of us. But I also think part of the challenge — and beauty — of preaching is that Scripture is not always neat and tidy. It doesn’t always say what we want it to say. And sometimes, the more we study something, the more questions we find ourselves asking.

I think about Jesus, who often responded to questions with more questions. He didn’t hand out easy answers; he invited people to see differently, to live differently, to love differently. That’s part of what makes the Bible so powerful — it refuses to stay confined. It keeps speaking new things into old places.

When I preach, my hope is not just that people will learn about the Bible, but that they will encounter the living Word through it. There’s a difference between information and transformation.

If I only gave you historical facts about first-century Palestine or the Greek root of a particular word, you might leave with more knowledge — but would it shape your heart? Would it help you see God’s presence in your everyday life? Would it draw you closer to your neighbor?

For me, faith is not just about understanding Scripture intellectually. It’s about asking, what does this mean for how I live? What does it mean to love my neighbor, forgive those who hurt me, seek justice, and walk humbly with God?

That’s what I mean when I say “where the rubber hits the road.” Faith isn’t something that just lives in the sanctuary or the study. It’s something that lives in our choices, our relationships, our work, and our hope for the world.

So I find myself curious — and I ask this sincerely — what do you expect to hear in a sermon?

• When you come to worship, what do you hope the preacher will say?

• Do you want to be comforted? Challenged? Inspired?

• Do you want to learn more about the text itself, or more about how it intersects with real life?

There’s no wrong answer here. Sermons are not one-size-fits-all, and preachers are not spiritual vending machines. Each of us brings our own story, our own needs, our own questions into the sanctuary.

For some, a sermon that feels “biblical” is one that quotes Scripture frequently. For others, it’s one that reveals the heart of the gospel even if it doesn’t mention chapter and verse. The truth is, both can be faithful. Both can be deeply rooted in the living Word of God.

For me personally, the Bible shapes everything. It’s the story I keep returning to — the story of God’s persistent love for humankind. It’s full of flawed people who keep getting it wrong, and a God who keeps showing up anyway.

When I read Scripture, I don’t just see ancient words; I see my own life reflected back at me. I see my doubts in Thomas, my stubbornness in Jonah, my courage in Mary, my questions in Nicodemus, my hope in the women at the tomb.

Every week, when I open the Bible to prepare a sermon, I ask:

• What is God saying through this text right now?

• What does it mean for us, here, in this time and place?

That’s where preaching begins for me — not in the assumption that I have the answers, but in the belief that God is still speaking.

So, yes — I preach from the Bible. Always have, always will. But I’m also grateful for the question, because it opens the door for a deeper conversation about what we mean when we say “biblical.” Maybe the question isn’t just “Do preachers preach from the Bible anymore?”

Maybe it’s “What does it mean to hear God’s word today?” And maybe it’s an invitation — for both preacher and listener — to listen with open hearts, to bring our full selves to the story, and to let that story shape us anew.

Because in the end, preaching isn’t about one person talking. It’s about a community listening together for God’s living Word — and then letting that Word take root in how we live, love, and serve in the world.