Continuing our series on what preachers can learn from the TED conferences’ guidelines, which they’ve affectionately dubbed “The TED Commandments”.

Finishing what we started. Today, the final TED Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Steal the Time of Them that Follow Thee.

There’s a lot wrapped up in this commandment: There’s a lot of ground to cover, so don’t chew up someone else’s work. Whittle complexity into something easily understood and responded to. Use your time well. A lot can be said in a little amount of time.

At the TED Conference, you get the time that’s given to you, and not a second more. And most of those speakers work miracles in that time period. They cut and trim down to the barest essentials, giving us just enough information to change our lives and keep us wanting more. It’s a task that even the most seasoned speaker would find challenging, but the outcome is almost always a better, more useful speech.

Of course, the TED collection varies in length almost as much as it does in presenter. I’m not sure who decides how much time is allotted to each person, but clearly it’s not a one-size-fits-all campaign.

At Greenhouse, we’re shooting for a standard of twenty minutes, with thirty available to you if you have something to say that a) you just can’t say without another ten minutes and b) will better serve the audience by going to work a little longer. And when the day comes, we’ll make our way through an hour-long sermon. That might not ever happen, but if it does, you can bet your last dollar it’ll be worth every single second. Of course, we’re not following a speech with another speech, but there’s lots of other things to get to, and I’m of the opinion that once you’re past the point of diminishing returns, you should close up shop lest you dilute your main point.

So, lots to chew on. What’s your ideal length for a sermon? Do you find it challenging to fit everything in a short amount of time? When you cut and edit, do you generally end with a tighter, better speech, or do you sometimes miss the stuff on the cutting room floor?

Be sure to check out the rest of the TED Preacher series, as well as the comments. Because y’all are smarter than me, and we benefit from your insights. And you’re all invited to watch me break all of these rules in good time at Greenhouse this fall, where I’m (some form of) literally going to practice what I preach.

Other posts in the TED Preacher series
Overview
1-3: Shticks, Dreams, Curiosities & Passions
4: Story
5: Connection
6: Vulnerability
7: Hocking Your Wares
8: Make ‘Em Laugh
9: No Reading Allowed

Continuing our series on what preachers can learn from the TED conferences’ guidelines, which they’ve affectionately dubbed “The TED Commandments”.

Eek… has it been a month since I paused the TED Series? Let’s finish this sucker out. Today, commandment number nine, Thou Shalt Not Read thy Speech.

Why do we create and deliver sermons? Some quick and dirty answers are to connect people to Jesus, to cast vision, to compel people to respond to what Jesus is doing in the world. We can open up new worlds to people, start new conversations, help people get their head around what it means to follow Jesus tomorrow morning. The list can go on and on.

All of those things seem important enough to put a lot of thought and planning into. Months. For example, we’ve just recently begun writing our Lent series for 2010. And I feel just a little bit behind. So with all of that pre-planning, polishing, sculpting words and illustrations and messages, my impulse is to take my transcript and read away, because I don’t want to leave anything out, and I want to use my perfectly nuanced sentence to efficiently communicate.

But transcript-style can be terribly impersonal. At best, it’s a little lackluster. At worst, incredibly boring. It also gives me a giant crutch for my nerves. On Good Friday, when I was a ball of nerves charged with the task of connecting 400 people to the death and ultimate resurrection of Jesus, I recall glancing at those notes a lot. And at a wedding recently, I cared about the couple so much and had worked for so long on my message, I was almost entirely glued to the page, unwilling to risk stumbling, forgetting or somehow otherwise marring their moment.

And if I could do it again, I’d memorize more, make it easier to memorize, and rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. But week after week, that could be overwhelming. After all, there’s people to pastor, lives to change, projects to lead, church to administer. So rote memorization is perhaps not the best solution. And since I’m not interested in making it up as I go (because y’all are too important for that), I need to find a third option.

Perhaps it’s about speaking from experience, from what you’ve learned and know, speaking of things that are already on the tip of your tongue. I’ve got some strategies for memorization and structure from the conference that I’ll share later this week, but today, a question:

How do you approach speaking? Do you notice a difference when someone is speaking sans-notes? Do you think there’s merit in not reading your speech? And, as a recovering (and bound-to-relapse) transcript-user, what are some of your strategies for not reading your speech, even if you have a transcript in front of you?

Other posts in the TED Preacher series
Overview
1-3: Shticks, Dreams, Curiosities & Passions
4: Story
5: Connection
6: Vulnerability
7: Hocking Your Wares
8: Make ‘Em Laugh