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Years ago my mother purchased her first microwave oven. I was impressed. To be able to cook hot dogs in mere seconds seemed a wonderful innovation in culinary technology. Around the same time, however, she bought a Crock-Pot, an instrument that baffled me entirely. Why would anyone deliberately buy an appliance designed to do the job slowly? It could take all day to do dinner in the Crock-Pot. The microwave would do it in seconds.

Of course, as any decent chef will tell you, some things taste better when cooked slowly. Time can be a useful ingredient in deepening a rich and full-bodied taste. You don't always want to rush things in the kitchen. You don't always want to rush things in the pulpit.

Let the listener savor the message.

I come from a long line of slow eaters. I spent the better part of my childhood listening to my mother encouraging me to " hurry up " and to " eat faster. " Now I tell her that slower eating aids digestion. It is healthier, or so the experts say. Whether for reasons of health or reasons of necessity, listeners consume their sermons slowly, more slowly, at least, than preachers want to serve it.

This idea is not always readily appreciated. It is well known that a human can think faster than he or she can talk. The implication is that if listeners are thinking faster than preachers can talk, then preachers ought to talk faster. Some suggest that by moving more quickly through the sermon, listeners will not get bored and tune out. However, this is not necessarily the case. Listeners may be able to think quickly, but that doesn't mean that they can appropriate a speaker's argument and translate the language rapidly.

To change the metaphor, the issue is not the processing speed of the listener's cranial computer. It is the transmission speed. For example, I bought a powerful new computer last year because I was frustrated with my old computer's turtle pace on the Internet. It was as if I was driving a Model T on the information autobahn. Unfortunately the new computer didn't solve the problem. My primary problem was bandwidth. The telephone connection wasn't capable of communicating the data fast enough to take advantage of my computer's speed. In a similar way, the oral form of preaching features relatively narrow bandwidth.

Most preachers are good writers. Having been through years of university and seminary education, they have been well trained to communicate in complex literate constructions. The problem is that sermons are not term papers. Many of the sermons I have heard would make for good reading, but as an oral product, they are difficult to process. In a written piece the consumer can take her time. She can reread difficult sections. She can compare and contrast issues from various stages in the presentation. She can pause to ponder or reflect. The listener to a sermon can do none of these things. An auditor must take it as it comes as quick as it comes. For many, it is just too much.

The problem is the rate of delivery. We preachers take hours in preparation meditating on the text. By the time we're ready to preach, we want to offer everything we've gathered. Yet while we have had the advantage of hours in the study, the listener has to process the whole thing in 30 minutes. It is just too much for many. There often is an enormous difference between the speed at which a hearer processes words and the speed at which they understand and accept ideas. Understanding takes time. Changing beliefs, attitudes, and paradigms takes time.

Let hearers chew their food.

So what am I suggesting? Should we simply talk slower or adopt a simpler vocabulary? Do we need to give more explanations, or less? Should we repeat ourselves more often?

The old adage is that less is more. My suggestion is that we offer more by attempting less. This is where Haddon Robinson's " big idea " approach to preaching can be helpful. One good textual proposition is probably enough. The advantage of such a cutback is that it gives us opportunity to do a better job with the material that we have.

What might " a better job " sound like? We could take more time to develop the story behind the textual proposition. We could spend energy describing the human context the biblical text presupposes. With effective crafting we could help the listener find his or her place in the life of the text. Using story is a way of increasing bandwidth.

I recently preached from Ephesians 3. I might have been tempted to lay out a list of parallel propositions:

I. The love of God is high.
II. The love of God is wide.
III. The love of God is long.
IV. The love of God is deep.

I could have bolstered each point with detailed analysis and description. The commentaries are full of fodder for such an approach. Instead I chose to describe Paul's heart for the Christians in Ephesus. I helped my listeners connect with the first century readers of the letter by bringing out the human experience common to both. I described Paul's concern that these new disciples would be strong enough to stand up against the contrary winds of contemporary culture.

Having established a connection for my listeners with the human situation embedded in the text, I could then invest time in struggling through the implications of the point. So often we assume that because we've made our point clear, that it has automatically won the respect and obedience of all who hear. Not so. Perhaps the preacher ought to take some time to wrestle with the nuances of the point, taking the listener deeper into his or her heart issues.

I was struck, for example, as I was pondering the Ephesians text that God's love is not offered as a means of escape from the opposition brought by culture. God's love, rather, serves as a strengthening element that makes us strong enough to stand against the opposition of the culture. Paul talks about how God's love helps us to be rooted, to develop inner spiritual power, and to be strong (vv.Ephesians 3:15-19). God's love is not solely a shelter, but a bulwark.

Finally, I would suggest that the preacher ought to take time to help the listener imagine the difference that the point could make in life. The preacher could paint pictures and create emotion. He could describe tangible objectives that help the listener appreciate what an appropriate response might look like, smell like, taste like. I took time to help my listeners visualize and experience what it would feel like to be so confident in the love of God that we did not have to be afraid of other people.

In sum, preachers ought to slow down, not dumb down. Force feeding platefuls of propositions will only leave the listener with indigestion. We need to let the listener savor our sermons.

Kenton C. Anderson is dean and associate professor of applied theology at ACTS Seminaries (Northwest) in Langley, British Columbia. He is author of several books, including Choosing to Preach (Zondervan).