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F r o n t i s p i e c e
Sizzle and Fizzle
By Karl Keating
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This Rock
Volume 12, Number 5
 May-June 2001 
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For years I have watched no television. I am the only person I know who never saw an episode of Seinfeld. When people around me talk about today's programs and actors, I am reduced to a blank stare. They might as well be talking about their favorite restaurants in Ulan Bator. I am out of the loop-and not missing it one bit. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.
But it is not forgetfulness. I still have recollections of television. I recall an amateur variety show that aired decades ago. The winning act (often an accordion player or cloggers before clogging became popular) was selected using an "applause meter." The louder the applause, the more the audience liked an act. But the audience did not always prefer what objectively was the best act, which just happened to be the act that I preferred. The loudest applause might go to the performers with the most garish costumes or to the singers most obviously off key. The audience's likes did not necessarily have anything to do with artistic worth. It's a point that public speakers, particularly apologists, might do well to keep in mind.
Every speaker appreciates applause, and every speaker should be wary of it. On the apologetics circuit, the audiences are invariably generous. They often give standing ovations-sometimes to every speaker at a conference. Even if they show their appreciation while remaining in their seats, the listeners' kindness can go to a speaker's head. Vanity is a perpetual trap for anyone engaged in sharing the faith in public. We all fall into it at times, and some of us tend to wallow in it.
The curious thing, though, is that the best-received talk may not be the most useful talk. A few times, in the course of hundreds of public presentations, I felt that I hit a home run. The audience seemed to think so too and got on its feet to confirm my feeling. As often as not, though, that was the last response I would receive to such talks. I seldom learned whether anyone profited long-term from them.
Then there have been the evident flops-evident to me and, I fear, only too evident to the audience. Sometimes I would try out a new talk and, half way through, conclude that I should have stayed home. I imagined that my listeners were thinking the same thing. And yet, weirdly enough, sometimes it has been those talks, the notes of which I later filed under "Lectures: Duds," that seemed to have the most long-lasting effect. I would learn, sometimes weeks later by mail or phone, that something I said turned out to be just what someone needed to hear.
Is there an inverse relationship when it comes to apologetics talks? Could it be that flash and sizzle are appreciated at the moment but, like the seed that fell on poor ground, result in nothing deep-rooted? Could it be that God wants his truth to be valued on its own merits and not on the performance abilities of his messengers?
To ask these questions is to answer them, of course. The God who writes straight with crooked lines permits his truths to be conveyed through ill-composed and ill-delivered lectures-proof, if any is needed, that he has a sense of humor.
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