Over the years, I’ve seen people come to our church from other churches. At some point, I learn the reason they left their church. Sometimes it is because they moved away. Sometimes it is because the pastor they loved moved away and the new pastor is changing everything. Often, they are looking for a church with better programming (for children, teens, or seniors).

The reason I have heard most often, though, is this: “I didn’t get fed there.” They did not appreciate what the preacher served on Sunday mornings. As a preacher myself, I have often wondered at this response.

Can a pastor speak for twenty, thirty, even forty-five minutes and not give the flock anything to feed on? What is he or she doing in the pulpit for all that time, if not feeding the flock?

When people say they are not being fed, what they may mean is that they dislike the spiritual food the pastor is offering. Perhaps it is dry and tasteless. It has no zing. By the time people are in the car and on the way home they have already forgotten what they were served.

It could be that what the pastor presents is nutritious but boring. There are good ingredients – the teaching is true and biblically accurate – but the ingredients are not combined in the right order. Or something essential has been left out.

It could be that what the pastor presents each week is tasty but not nutritious. People lap it up – the funny stories, the tearjerker illustrations – but there is nothing that will stick to the bone. It is comfort food for the spiritually obese. People get full but they never grow strong.

It could be that the fare a pastor serves is spiritually unhealthy. It might be filled with artificial ingredients – ideas that taste like biblical truth but are man-made rather than God-inspired. Their sermons might even contain traces of theological heresy that slowly poisons those who take it in.

There may be another and quite different reason why people say, “I didn’t get fed there.” They did not care to eat. The pastor may cook up a delicious and nutritious spiritual meal and present it with real artistry. But the person may have no appetite for nutritious spiritual food. They may be stuffed with intellectual and emotional junk food. “I didn’t get fed there” might only be a way of saying, “I’ve lost my appetite.”  

Where this is the case, the preacher might be a great orator like John Chrysostom, a theological giant like Martin Luther, or a prince of preachers like Charles Spurgeon and people still won’t be fed. A banquet is served but the family goes hungry nonetheless.

When people say they were not being fed at church, I wonder if they are feeding themselves at home. As important as it is to have a preacher at church who presents truth that is divinely-inspired, relevant, and appealing, it is even more important to have church members who know how to feed themselves at home.

It is the men and women who have learned to nourish themselves on Scripture during the week who derive the most benefit from a sermon on Sunday. They have discriminating tastes. They recognize artificial ingredients, spit out poisons, relish a hearty meal, enjoy a satisfying after-dinner treat.

This means that churches must do more than prepare a tasty and nutritious spiritual feast on Sundays. They must also teach people how to prepare their own spiritual meals at home. They must give people simple recipes for getting the most out of the Scriptures. They must teach them how to marinade a biblical text in prayer, until all its flavors burst forth. And they must share in the feast their members prepare.

Church members who are well-fed at home during the week are those who most enjoy the spiritual meal that is served at church on Sundays. They have a hearty appetite, know good spiritual food when they find it, and recognize poor imitations for what they are. For such people, the call to worship on a Sunday morning is an invitation, a “Bon appétit,” that portends a rich repast.