Summary

A preacher initially struggled to connect with a psychiatric hospital congregation using a sermon tailored for medical staff, but found success with a simple, heartfelt message of "Peace" and "Love."

Abstract

The narrative recounts the experience of a preacher tasked with delivering a sermon at a psychiatric center. Initially, he prepared a sophisticated speech aimed at the medical staff, only to find the actual audience consisted of patients. His initial attempt fell flat, as he failed to engage the congregation, leading to an abrupt and unfulfilling end to his sermon. Reflecting on this experience, he realized his mistake and revised his message to focus on the universal themes of peace and love, using simple illustrations and placards. This new approach resonated deeply with the patients, resulting in an unexpectedly impactful five-minute sermon that concluded with a profound moment of silent reflection and a collective prayer for peace and love.

Opinions

The preacher initially underestimated the importance of tailoring his message to the actual audience, focusing instead on impressing the medical staff.
He recognized the value of brevity and simplicity in communication, especially when addressing an audience with diverse needs and backgrounds.
The preacher's initial confusion and fear turned into a learning opportunity, emphasizing the importance of empathy and understanding in public speaking.
The patients' reaction to the simplified message suggests that fundamental human needs for peace and love transcend mental health conditions.
The preacher's experience highlights the potential for meaningful connection and impact when speakers adapt their messages to the core needs of their listeners.

That Time When I Visited a Psychiatric Home

I succeeded with just two words — Peace. Love.

Photo by **Leonardo Yip** on **Unsplash**

As I began to prepare my sermon, I put into consideration all that I was taught in public speaking. These include: knowing who your audience is and their features.

This wasn't an issue with me. I already knew what my audience would be comprised of. It was an annual rotational preaching allocation in our district. My name fell in the Psychiatric Center. I was to preach for two days in the psychiatrist chapel. At first, this new venue didn’t bother me until the date began to draw near.

I already know what the audience would comprise of: the chief medics, the chief matrons, the nurse attendants on duty, the visitors who came to see their relatives. So, I began to polish my message to suit these groups of people. I took special cognizance of the Chief medics. I elevated my grammar and vocabulary to appeal to their level.

One more thing! I made sure that my message was brief. I have come to learn that the people I was preparing to speak to are always time conscious. They trade time as money.

The day came and I went. I mounted the podium and became a little confused. Where are the men on the white coat? Where are the nurses? Where are the personalities that I had in the picture when I was preparing my sermon? I kept asking myself in between the sermon.

I had planned to speak to them for 45 minutes but ended up on a staggering sermon of 25 minutes. For the whole 25 minutes, I fought aimlessly to win even single eye contact from the congregation but none looked my way. Instead, my listeners stirred absentmindedly on the roof of the chapel.

Every word I spoke to them returned to me. There was no single response from my audience.

Three beautiful women who sat in the front row stole the show. They kept opening their handbags and poured spittle in them as if it was an assignment given to them. Another who sat at the back was standing and sitting as if we were in the kindergarten class.

When my confusion began to result in fear, I ended my sermon abruptly.

I didn't have a message for them. I left the chapel, empty.

I was empty and embittered within me because I know I didn't communicate. They may be groups of dementia and those with mental disorders but I didn't include them in the sermon. I wrote the sermon for the Medics and the Matrons.

I was later told that evening before I left for my house that the medics don't join in the chapel worship.

When I drove home, I went straight into my library and sank into a couch. I didn't remember if I made any prayer before I dozed off. I woke in the middle of the night and began my massage afresh.

I took out two placards and drew a word on each. So, I had two words on the two placards.

These words became my new message. I pulled out some illustrations on the two words from my bookshelves and added them to the new sermon.

I arrived at the Psychiatric home on the second day. I took special notice of my audience for the first time when I mounted the podium. I noticed that 45 percent of my audience were women, 55 percent were men. The women were in their mid-fifties while the men looked younger.

They were filed and seated on the chair according to their sex, age, and conditions of their mental health. They were well dressed except few who had their feet bound in chains. I later learned they were violent and always made attempts to escape.

When the moderator mentioned my name, I ran out as if someone was at my heel.

They had their gazes fixed at me as I deliberately ran to the podium.

I skipped the opening prayer for the sermon because I didn't want them to look away. The running did the first magic that even those who had fallen asleep already were stirred.

I lifted the first drawing and their eyes went up with it.

“Peace!” they exclaimed.

My head swelled. These people hardly spoke yesterday and today they are exclaiming in ecstasy.

“Love!” They exclaimed louder as I pulled out the second word.

I dropped the two placards and brought out a few illustrations.

“The world needs peace and love”.

“You need peace and love”.

“I need peace and love”.

“We all need peace and love”.

There was dead silence in the chapel. Even a drop of a pin would be heard. I knew I had reached the peak of the sermon even though I haven't begun. So, I ended it.

“Shall we stand for prayer”?

I heard myself commanded them. Even before I said this, half of them were already standing.

It was a 5-minute sermon! But I made a hit. I didn't know psychiatric patients speak peace and love.

I handed over the microphone to the moderator and made to my seat but I could still hear the gentle mutterings; the heartfelt prayer;

“Oh, that I may know peace. May I know love”.

I never knew that even the mentally-ill speak love and peace.