Preach LIke Yourself
God created you to be a solution to the world’s problems, and there’s a unique sound in your voice that reflects who God is. This sound carries an anointing—carrying the very power of God to fulfill His purposes. Whether you're speaking in a small group or preaching to thousands, the key to releasing that sound and the power of God through you is to be yourself. You'll never have more authority in the spiritual realm or in the lives of others than when the power of God flows through the person He truly made you to be.
As much as people may be impressed with your brilliance, they’re most often transformed by your authenticity.
Have you ever seen the movie Hitch? It's one of my favorite rom-coms. Will Smith plays Hitch, a matchmaker who teaches men how to "game" their way into a woman's heart. But Hitch has a problem—he can’t find true love for himself. Eventually, he learns that his coaching gimmicks are standing in the way. The false self—his perception of what women want—is his worst enemy. His gimmicks mask who he really is. When he embraces his true, goofy self, he finds true love.
Sadly, Hitch’s story mirrors my own preaching journey. Preaching has been an expedition of learning to be comfortable in my own skin—learning to be myself. Let me explain.
One of my first preaching opportunities came when I was a twenty-year-old church planter in Wolverhampton, England. One Sunday afternoon, as I was preparing to preach to our small church family—just a dozen people gathered in a pub—I prayed, "Jesus, please come back right now, so I don’t have to preach!" I was serious. Did I want to preach? Absolutely! But I was terrified, and His return seemed like the best solution in that moment.
Flashback to kindergarten—Christmas play. I had the privilege of being one of the ornaments in the Christmas tree choir. As I took the stage, I saw it: a huge camera on a tripod. I thought it was channel two news in Houston. In hindsight, it was just a family camcorder, but back then, I didn’t understand that. At that moment, something triggered stage fright that haunted me for the next couple of decades.
By my mid-twenties, I had started to preach, but it wasn’t pretty. I was still trying to be someone else. I was performing, trying to impress, instead of serving and leading people—and it showed. On one occasion, I had just heard David Platt preach for the first time. His delivery blew my mind. He preached without notes, recalled scripture effortlessly, and commanded a room of thousands of seasoned leaders. I wanted to be him. So, I tried it. A few weeks later, I preached to a couple hundred college students, channeling my inner David Platt. Afterward, Lauren said something like, “You’re not a very good David Platt—just be yourself.” It stung, but she was right. My problem wasn’t a poorly delivered sermon—it was that I didn’t know who I was. For the next few years, I tried to emulate others, like Bill Johnson and Steven Furtick, but none of them felt right.
David didn’t turn down King Saul’s armor because it didn’t look good; he rejected it because he knew who he was and how he was made to fight. As the saying goes, “When you discover who God made you to be, you won’t want to be anyone else.”
Something changed in the second half of my twenties. At that time, I was pastoring college students and overseeing small groups. As my leadership influence grew, I realized I couldn’t connect with everyone one-on-one. If I was going to lead effectively, I had to develop my preaching ability. That’s when everything shifted. Preaching was no longer about getting approval or being liked—it was about serving and leading the people God entrusted to me. There was real life in what we were doing, lives were changing, and leaders were being raised up. Preaching became a tool of leadership, not performance. It was about them, not me. I’ve found that I’m only nervous when I care more about myself than the people I’m serving.
I learned a few things during that season. First, there’s a direct attack on who we were created to be—and it begins long before we realize who that is. The real damage from these attacks doesn’t come in the moment but from the agreements we make in response. I had agreed with the idea that I didn’t like speaking in front of people and wasn’t good at it. That belief created a wall between me and my calling. I also developed a value system based on what I thought about myself. I told myself, "Sermons don’t make disciples. Real discipleship happens one-on-one." We can’t afford to devalue what we’re not good at. A value system rooted in self—your gifts, passions, and insecurities—is called egocentrism, and it’s dangerous. It’s not just harmful to you; it’s harmful to the church and those you influence.
Eventually, I started to discover my "secret weapon" in preaching. I realized that people weren’t as interested in my clever thoughts or deep revelations as they were in the vulnerable moments. These moments, when I was authentic, landed with power and impacted people’s lives. As much as people may be impressed with your brilliance, they’re most often transformed by your authenticity. I was finally learning to act like myself.
As I continued practicing—getting more “reps” as they say—I realized something while teaching through Ephesians. Before, I was studying to preach—cramming for an exam. But instead, I started reading to get the message into me. I read Ephesians over and over, and it began to change my thoughts and beliefs. I started to bleed Ephesians. Preaching shifted from something I did to an opportunity to overflow what had become a part of me. Transformation doesn’t happen through information alone. It takes real spiritual authority. Spiritual authority isn’t about what you know—it’s about who you are and who He is through you. I’ve seen two preachers deliver nearly identical sermons—one with power, the other without. There’s another layer of authenticity in preaching: receiving and embodying the message. Now, when I preach, it often requires me to repent before I release the word. I spend nearly as much time preparing on my face as I do in front of my computer. This is about life, not just sermons.
More Than a Message
Over the last five years, I recognized another principle. Jesus and the Apostles had a model for preaching: it was either “show and tell” or “tell and show,” but there was always a demonstration alongside the proclamation. Why? Because the church isn’t an academic institution just pumping out information. People aren’t perishing from a lack of knowledge—they’re perishing for a lack of intimate knowledge (Hosea 4:6). The church is a family gathered around God’s presence, transforming lives, making disciples, and advancing the Kingdom. People need an encounter with the message, not just information.
Years ago, I learned from Randy Clark to expect the Holy Spirit to work in partnership with what I preach. If I’m preaching on marriage, I expect the Holy Spirit to minister to marriages. If I’m preaching on finances, I expect Him to minister to people’s financial needs. I also stay sensitive to the Holy Spirit, so if He changes the topic mid-message, I’m ready to follow. Most of my preaching aims to lead people into an encounter with God. But I also want to give them the opportunity to receive everything in the Kingdom—Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and healing.
The supernatural impact of my preaching grew as I realized that there’s a unique grace on my life that I need to release. I started preaching in line with my prophetic words. The first time I recognized this was when I began preaching on love. In 2015, I received a word from Bethel Church’s prophetic team that I would travel the nation preaching on love. In stead of waiting for the invitations to appear out of thin air, I realized that they never would if I didn’t start preaching on love. So, I did. Those messages landed with surprising power. That prophetic word wasn’t just a prediction—it was an invitation to live into the future it announced. I was learning to preach like myself by recognizing the custom grace on my life. By the way, my passion and vision for life aren’t about traveling the world as a preacher or communicator - that’s not what I’m after - more about that another time.
These days, while leading a church and preaching regularly, not every message is about my prophetic words. At Sozo, we place high value on identifying and walking in our “Kingdom Calling.” This is a condensed version of your prophetic words, gifting, calling, and passions—distilled into a potent phrase. Mine is “pioneering father.” While I can’t make every sermon about my prophetic words, I can preach from my Kingdom Calling. It’s the same principle of authenticity and authority taken a layer deeper. I preach from the grace on my life. For example, recently, I started a series on finances. My goal was to preach from a father’s heart, reflecting the Father’s heart for our finances. I aim to father people through my preaching, speaking from integrity within my Kingdom Calling. It’s about being the same person, whether I’m preaching about finances or anything else. This doesn’t mean I’ve perfected it. I’m still growing—improving my storytelling, removing filler words—but I’m getting better at amplifying who God made me to be.
Let me leave you with a few questions:
Looking back on your life, what are the clear attacks on your calling?
What agreements have you made that might be a wall between you and your calling, or between who you are acting like and who you’re meant to be?
What would it look like to lean into the supernatural while you preach?
What is your Kingdom Calling, and what would it look like to communicate from that place?
