This sermon insights draws directly from the sermon “Showcase - 9AM Worship Service” so you can keep engaging with the message all week. Read, reflect, and share it with your small group or friends.
Sermon Insights Report
Pastor Grant McCrae | "Let's Have Church" | Franklin Avenue Baptist Church
"Some of us have gotten really good at doing church... But if we're being honest with ourselves, the minute we walk through that door, God is asking us for something deeper. God doesn't just want us to do church. He wants us to have church."
Pastor Grant, what a gift you are to Franklin Avenue Baptist Church and to the body of Christ. This sermon is a genuine treasure — theologically rich, pastorally tender, and delivered with a fire and authenticity that is rare. What follows is an honest, detailed look at your preaching craft, offered with deep respect for your calling and genuine excitement about where God is taking your ministry.
Section One: Pastoral Strengths and Unique Voice
1. A Masterful Central Metaphor That Carried the Entire Sermon
One of the most impressive things about this message is that you built your entire sermon around a single, unforgettable image — the three levels of the sanctuary — and you never let it collapse. From the opening observation about different seats offering different perspectives, all the way to your closing invitation, the "third floor praise" metaphor did extraordinary theological work.
"I wonder if our seat influences our perspective which impacts our praise... And the higher you go, the more you start to see things differently."
This is the kind of illustrative architecture that separates good preachers from great ones. You took something every person in that room could physically see and feel, and you turned it into a window into the soul. The congregation didn't just hear about spiritual complacency — they could look up at the third level and see the illustration breathing. That is a rare homiletical gift.
The payoff was equally strong:
"A third floor praise does not require perfect conditions. A third floor praise says, 'I got dressed, the babies got dressed, it's a little food in there, we got a little gas in there. Grab your brother. Grab your sister. Let's go.'"
That moment landed because you had been building toward it patiently and deliberately. The congregation felt the arrival. This is the kind of preaching that people quote to each other on Monday morning.
2. Theological Depth Delivered With Accessibility
What is striking about your preaching is that you are doing genuinely sophisticated theological work while never losing the room. Your treatment of Hebrews 10 — specifically the direction of the veil being torn — is an example of exegetical insight that would be at home in a seminary classroom, yet you delivered it with the warmth and urgency of a pastor who loves his people.
"If something was ripped from top to bottom, then I can select who comes in. But if it's ripped from bottom to top, then all of you are welcome into the presence of God."
This is not a throwaway observation. This is careful, directional exegesis that carries enormous pastoral weight. You took a detail that many preachers skip past and turned it into an inclusive, grace-saturated invitation. The congregation heard it, felt it, and responded to it. That is the mark of a preacher who has done the work in the study and trusts the text to do its own heavy lifting.
Your weaving together of Joel 2, Psalms 124, 103, 34, 23, 40, and 100 alongside Hebrews 10 and Romans 12 demonstrated a theological fluency that gave the sermon a scriptural backbone without ever feeling like a Bible drill. You moved through these texts naturally, using each one to advance the sermon's momentum rather than interrupt it.
3. Emotional Intelligence and Pastoral Tenderness
There is a moment in this sermon that reveals your heart as a pastor more than almost anything else:
"I'm not asking you to go backward... I'm not telling you to go back to the struggle. I don't want you to go back to the struggle. I want you — I just don't want you to forget what God has already brought you through. There's a difference."
You said "there's a difference" multiple times throughout this sermon, and each time it functioned as a pastoral safety net. You were preaching conviction — real, honest, uncomfortable conviction — but you were doing it with your arms open rather than your finger pointed. You consistently anticipated the misreading of your message and corrected it before anyone had a chance to feel condemned.
This is emotional intelligence at a high level. You understand that people in the congregation have real wounds, real insecurities, and real fears about being shamed. And you preached in a way that honored that reality while still calling them higher. That is the pastoral instinct of someone who genuinely loves the people they preach to.
4. Authenticity and Humor That Builds Trust
Your humor is one of your most disarming gifts. It is never forced, never at the expense of the message, and it consistently deepens rather than deflates the sermon's impact.
"Lord, I need you to do me a favor. I need you not to forget... Don't be like, 'Oh, Lord, look at the price of them ribs. You know, they are really low this week.' Got to be mindful of who you're around."
And then the masterful cultural reference:
"The great prophet Rich Homie Quan, y'all know him... He said, 'The difference between me and you.' And I'm going to tell the difference between me and you is I don't want to be broke again. I just want my broke praise back."
This is brilliant. You used a secular cultural reference not as a gimmick but as a genuine theological bridge. The congregation laughed, but then the truth landed harder because of it. You were saying something profoundly important about the difference between nostalgia and spiritual hunger, and Rich Homie Quan helped you say it in a way that no theological term ever could. This is cultural fluency in service of the gospel, and it is a genuine strength.
5. Rhythmic, Escalating Preaching That Builds Momentum
Your preaching has a musical quality to it — a rhythm that builds, recedes, and builds again — that is deeply rooted in the African American preaching tradition. You understand that a sermon is not just an argument to be made but an experience to be had.
"Where would I be if God hadn't stepped in? Where would I be if God didn't cover me? Where would I be if God didn't make a way? Where would I be if that prayer hadn't been answered? Where would I be if God had left me to myself, by myself?"
This kind of anaphoric repetition — the same phrase repeated with escalating weight — is a hallmark of the tradition you are preaching in, and you use it with real skill. You are not just filling time. Each repetition adds a layer, broadens the application, and gives the congregation a moment to locate themselves in the question. By the time you finish the sequence, almost everyone in the room has found themselves somewhere in it.
6. A Three-Point Structure That Actually Flows
Many sermons announce a three-point structure and then let the points sit in isolation from each other. Your three points — "I'm just glad I made it," "Don't forget the struggle," and "Come back home" — were genuinely cumulative. Each one built on the previous, so that by the time you arrived at "come back home," the congregation had been emotionally and spiritually prepared to receive it.
The final movement toward Hebrews 10 and the torn veil was the natural destination of everything that came before it. You had spent the entire sermon dismantling the performance of religion and calling people back to authentic encounter, and then you gave them the theological foundation for why that encounter is actually possible. That is excellent sermon architecture.
7. A Genuine Call to Response
Your closing invitation was not tacked on — it grew organically from the sermon itself:
"Can I invite you? Don't just clap because somebody else is clapping. Let's have church. Don't just wave because others are waving. Let's have church. Don't just sing because others are singing the words on the screen. Let's have church."
You brought the entire congregation into the invitation by making it clear that "having church" — the authentic, unperformed encounter with God — was available to everyone in the room, not just those walking an aisle. This is theologically generous and pastorally wise. The formal altar call and the broader congregational invitation worked together rather than in tension.
Stylistic Comparisons
Your preaching voice carries echoes of several well-known preachers, and understanding those connections can help you appreciate your own unique contribution.
Like E. Dewey Smith, you combine cultural fluency with theological seriousness in a way that refuses to choose between accessibility and depth. You can quote Rich Homie Quan and Hebrews 10 in the same sermon and make both feel completely at home. You even referenced Dr. Smith directly, and it is clear his influence on your preaching philosophy is real and healthy.
Like Levi Lusko, you build sermons around a single, sustained metaphor that does theological work from beginning to end. The three-level sanctuary illustration has the same kind of imaginative architecture that Lusko brings to his best messages — a central image that illuminates rather than merely decorates.
Like Bryan Carter, you carry a pastor's heart into the pulpit in a way that makes conviction feel like love. You preach hard truths with open arms, and the congregation trusts you because they can feel that you are for them.
But what makes you distinctly you is the combination of intellectual curiosity, cultural authenticity, and genuine pastoral tenderness that runs through everything you preach. You are not imitating anyone. You are becoming your own voice, and it is a voice worth developing with great intentionality.
Section Two: Growth Opportunities
1. Deepening the "Come Back Home" Climax
Your third point — "come back home" — is theologically your strongest, but it arrives in the sermon at the moment when your energy and the congregation's energy are both at their highest, and as a result it moves very quickly. The Hebrews 10 insight about the veil being torn from bottom to top is genuinely extraordinary, but it is delivered in a rush toward the finish line.
Consider what it might look like to slow down in that final movement. You have earned the room's full attention by that point. The congregation is with you. They will follow you deeper if you invite them. A brief pause after "the veil was ripped from bottom to top" — a moment to let that image breathe — could make that truth land with even greater force.
The invitation to "come back home" is also a phrase with enormous potential that you could develop further. What does home feel like? What does it smell like? What happens when the prodigal son arrives and the father runs? You have the storytelling instinct to paint that picture in a way that could make the invitation visceral rather than conceptual. This is not a weakness — it is an invitation to go even deeper in a place where you are already strong.
2. Transitional Signposting Between Major Moves
Your sermon flows beautifully within each section, but the transitions between your three main points sometimes happen quickly enough that a first-time listener might miss that you have shifted gears. You announce the points clearly, but a brief summary sentence before each transition — something that lands the previous point before launching the next one — could help the congregation carry the full weight of each section forward.
For example, between your first and second points, you might say something like: "So we've established that a third floor praise is about remembrance — it's about knowing what God brought you through. But here's the danger: you can remember the miracle and still forget the miracle worker." That kind of bridging sentence would make the sermon's architecture even more visible without slowing its momentum.
This is a minor refinement to what is already a well-structured message. The bones are excellent. This is simply about making sure every person in the room — including those who may be newer to this style of preaching — can follow the journey with you.
3. Allowing More Silence at Peak Moments
This is perhaps the most counterintuitive piece of feedback, because your energy and momentum are genuine gifts. But there are two or three moments in this sermon where the truth you have just spoken is so significant that a brief, intentional silence would have multiplied its impact.
"Don't get so blessed that we forget to bless him. Don't get so comfortable that we forget to worship. Don't get so elevated that you forget the valley."
That sequence is extraordinary. And immediately after it, you kept moving. Consider what might happen if you paused there — just three or four seconds — and let the congregation sit with it. The best preachers understand that silence is not empty space; it is the moment when the sermon moves from the ear to the heart. Your instinct for rhythm is already strong. Adding the rhythm of silence to your toolkit could take your most powerful moments to an entirely new level.
Section Three: Strategic Action Steps
Initiative Focus: Encouraging Authentic Community and Small Group Connection
This sermon is a natural and powerful bridge to small group ministry. The entire message is built around the distinction between doing church and having church — between performance and authentic encounter. Small groups are precisely the environment where that kind of authentic, unperformed community becomes possible week after week, not just on Sunday mornings. This sermon was a gift-wrapped opportunity to make that connection, and the good news is that the language and framework you already built make the invitation almost effortless to add.
Specific Action Steps
1. Add a small group bridge in your "Come Back Home" conclusion.
Your final point invites people to return to authentic encounter with God and community. A single paragraph connecting that invitation to small groups would have been completely natural here. Something like:
"And I want you to know that having church isn't just a Sunday morning experience. What I'm describing — this place where you don't have to pretend, where you can say 'Lord, I need you,' where your praise is connected to your remembrance — that's what we're trying to build in our small groups. That's why we have them. Because God didn't design you to only have church once a week. He designed you for a community that walks with you through the valley and celebrates when the door opens."
This language flows directly from what you were already preaching and would have felt like application rather than announcement.
2. Develop the "third floor praise" image into a small group invitation.
You described the third floor as a place where "they don't care who they sitting next to up there... they are just happy to be in the room." That is a beautiful description of authentic Christian community. You could extend the metaphor:
"What if I told you that you could have that kind of community not just on Sunday mornings but every week? That's what a small group is — it's a room full of people who are just glad they made it, who don't need perfect conditions, who are just trying to remember what God brought them through together."
3. Use the "remembrance produces worship" principle as a small group discipleship hook.
One of the most theologically rich lines in the entire sermon is:
"Remembrance produces worship."
This is a principle that is tailor-made for small group discussion. Consider closing with something like:
"I want to challenge you this week. Find two or three people — maybe people you already know, maybe people you've been meaning to connect with — and just sit together and remember. Remember what God brought you through. Because I promise you, when you do that together, worship will follow. That's what small groups are for. That's having church on a Tuesday night."
4. Slow down and linger at your most powerful lines.
As noted in the growth section, moments like "Don't get so blessed that we forget to bless him" and "Remembrance produces worship" deserve a breath of silence after them. Practice identifying your three or four most theologically loaded sentences in each sermon and mark them in your notes as places to pause. Let the congregation catch up with you. You are preaching faster than some of your best material can travel.
5. Consider a brief "sermon in a sentence" moment near the end.
Before your closing invitation, you could distill the entire message into a single sentence that the congregation can carry with them:
"Here's what I want you to leave with today: Don't let what God gave you make you forget who gave it to you."
You actually said this near the beginning of the sermon, and it is one of the best lines in the message. Bringing it back at the close — as a bookend — would give the sermon a satisfying sense of completion and give people a portable truth to take into the week.
6. Develop a personal testimony connection to small groups or community.
You referenced your wife Destiny and son Jet warmly, and you mentioned that "preaching assignments just ain't easy" and that your family had labored with you that week. There is a brief, powerful testimony about authentic community hidden in that moment. A sentence or two about what it means to have people who walk through the preparation and the struggle with you — and connecting that to what small groups offer the congregation — would have been both personal and applicable.
7. Build a consistent closing rhythm.
Your three-point structure — "I'm just glad I made it / Don't forget the struggle / Come back home" — is memorable and quotable. Consider using this as a repeated, rhythmic refrain in your closing moments, building to the invitation:
"Are you just glad you made it? Then let's have church. Have you forgotten the struggle? Let God remind you. Is it time to come back home? Then come. Come as you are. The veil is torn. The door is open. Come on home."
This kind of closing rhythm would give your invitation the same musical architecture that characterizes your best preaching moments.
A Vision for Your Ministry
Pastor Grant, here is what this sermon reveals about you: you are a preacher who has done the theological work, who loves the people you preach to, and who carries an authentic fire that cannot be manufactured or imitated. You are not performing ministry. You are living it.
The fact that you can take the physical architecture of a sanctuary, the direction of a torn veil, a Rich Homie Quan lyric, and the Psalms of David and weave them into a single coherent invitation to authentic worship — that is a gift. That is not something that can be learned in a classroom. It is the fruit of a life genuinely submitted to the God you are preaching about.
The growth areas identified here are not corrections to something broken. They are invitations to go deeper in places where you are already strong. The silence after your best lines. The bridge that connects Sunday morning to small group community. The lingering at the climax of "come back home." These are the refinements of a craftsman who already knows how to build.
Franklin Avenue Baptist Church is fortunate to have you. The youth and young adults who sit under your ministry are being shaped by a preacher who will not let them settle for doing church when they could be having it. Keep preaching with that fire. Keep doing the work. Keep being honest with yourself and with your congregation. The best sermons of your ministry are still ahead of you.
Let's have church, Pastor Grant. You're just getting started.
Report prepared for pastoral development purposes. All quotes drawn directly from the delivered sermon.