The best communicators are simple, never shallow.

Crowds flocked to Jesus, and stood in awe as he used compelling stories to convey complex realities like the kingdom of God, all while choosing to speak common Greek instead of classical. Jesus was simple.

And then there was the 19th century London pastor, Charles Spurgeon, also known as, “The Prince of Preachers”. His preaching was known as being deep, but simple…accessible to everyone. There are so many stories  of children, the uneducated and people from all walks of life, who were captivated by his simple message. Simplicity, in fact, is what Spurgeon aspired towards: “I hate oratory,” he once said, “I come down as low as I can. High-flying language seems to me wicked when souls are perishing” (Spurgeon: Prince of Preachers, Lewis Drummond, page 297). 

Easier said than done, for sure. How exactly do we achieve simplicity without becoming shallow? How can we hold the tension of being both deep and common? 

I have a friend of mine who when he was just starting out as a speaker gave the Sunday sermon at his church. Afterwards one of the leaders of the church invited him over for dinner. A few hours later my friend knocked on the door, walked into the house and sat down at the dining room table where he was shocked to see a plate filled with raw chicken, next to a bowl of uncooked onions, surrounded by spoons filled with seasonings. Something was wrong with this picture, he thought. Why had his host brought the kitchen to the dining room? Seeing his confusion, the host smiled, placed his hand warmly on my friend's back and said, “Kind of weird isn’t it? But that was your message today. You had wonderful ingredients. Great Greek and theological research, along with insightful historical context. But you never really prepared the meal in a way that we common people could receive it. You gave us the ingredients without putting it together.” 

This is a common mistake many communicators make, where they replace the dining room of the presentation with the kitchen of preparation. I want you to imagine every talk you give, and every audience you stand before as walking into a dining room. Dining rooms are places of simplicity. No, don’t get me wrong. I am not saying your presentation should be shallow. Remember, you only enter dining rooms after spending significant time in the kitchen. The speaker's “kitchen” is the place of study, where they labor. Kitchen’s are incredibly complex places…overwhelmingly complex. No one ever gets to simplicity without first dealing with complexity. To rush to the dining room without laboring in the kitchen is to be shallow. To replace the presentation with the kitchen is to be complex. But to work in the kitchen, and then stand in the dining room is the progression which leads to simplicity.

Well, how exactly can we work at simplicity? I’ve tried to model that for you in this  note. The imagery of kitchen’s and dining rooms is in itself an illustration of how pictures and stories can be the bridge we use to cross over from the complicated to the common. Whenever you can befriend stories, and use them to communicate. 

What I Read Last Week:

Playing from the Rough

Wbat I’m Reading Now

On Speaking Well

What I’m Reading Next

The Imperfect Pastor (re-read)

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