Navigating Compliments: A Delicate Art

The art of complimenting someone appropriately is a skill in itself. However, the ability to accept a compliment graciously is an equally important art form. 

This is particularly true for preachers, who are held to a different standard than most. They cannot indulge in flattery, as it would suggest arrogance. Conversely, it would be discourteous, among other things, to reject well-intentioned praise. In such situations, a great deal of tact is required. 

Consider this scenario: a preacher receives a compliment on his sermon. The exchange might go something like this: “Pastor, your sermon was truly inspiring this Sunday.” “Ah, Brother Jansen, you think so? I must admit, the text was particularly moving.”  

Notice the subtle shift? The word ‘sermon’ has been replaced with ‘text.’ This places the focus on the Word, rather than the sermon itself. This allows both the preacher and Brother Jansen to express their admiration freely. Of course, the sermon remains at the forefront of the conversation, ensuring everyone leaves feeling satisfied. 

However, caution is still necessary, as I recently discovered. 

Sister De Wilde is known to be a good woman, albeit a bit excessive. She’s the type to express her feelings with “oh” and “ah,” and frequently uses words like “delightful.” 

During a recent visit, she began to express her thoughts immediately: “Oh, Reverend, I thoroughly enjoyed the sermon on Sunday!” 

I was taken aback, but quickly adapted my usual technique: “Well, Sister, I’m glad to hear that. It was indeed a difficult text.” 

“Oh, you shouldn’t say that. It was so clear to me, and those beautiful metaphors! I told my husband: ‘it’s truly a gift, absolutely delightful!’” 

I couldn’t recall using any notable metaphors in that particular sermon, but I chose to accept the compliment graciously. 

Upon reflection, I realized that Sister De Wilde is quite empathetic and intelligent once you get to know her. I had previously found her somewhat off-putting, but it seems I was too quick to judge. 

She continued: “And do you know what I always find so remarkable? One can reach so many people with the spoken word. I told my husband that such a message should be heard throughout the land! No question about it!” 

I found her comment somewhat out of context, but wasn’t there some truth in it? Indeed, there was. Such a sermon, or rather, such a scripture-text, is universally applicable. I didn’t hesitate to express my agreement with her perspective: “Sister,” I responded solemnly, “the entire world needs to hear this.” 

We found common ground and continued our conversation harmoniously. 

“And what about the sick? Oh, the poor ill individuals, Reverend!” 

“I wholeheartedly agree, Sister. They are indeed in dire need.” 

“Do you think the thousands are listening, Reverend?” 

Her question caught me off guard. Our church can’t seat thousands. I attributed her exaggeration to her enthusiastic nature. However, a sense of unease began to creep in, and I cautiously responded: “Yes, thankfully, there is still a significant amount of interest.” 

But my moment of reckoning was imminent: “When my husband returned home from church, I said, ‘Oh, you missed so much this morning! The preacher on TV was exceptional this morning!’” 

There must be a unique art to gracefully concluding such conversations, an art form I am yet to master. 

In conclusion, I find Sister De Wilde to be somewhat superficial, and I struggle to understand why others find her so endearing.

From “Pijnlijk!” in Peper en Zout, Ds M. E. Voilà. Kok: Kampen, n.d. Trans., George van Popta, 2024.