Last week was about the first two minutes of a sermon. This week, the other end.
Listen to the last two minutes of most sermons and you will hear one of three things. A quick recap of the points. A brand-new illustration that opens a door the sermon never walked through. Or a slow circle: "And so, as we close… just one more thing…" while the preacher looks for a place to land.
The conclusion often gets the least preparation of any part of the sermon. By Saturday night the study is done and the points are in order, and the ending is left to the moment. But the last two minutes are what people carry to the car.
The problem: the conclusion gets treated as a summary of what was said instead of a summons to what comes next.
A conclusion has one job. It is not there to repeat the outline or to squeeze in what you ran out of time for. It is there to bring the big idea of the passage to bear on the listener one final time, and to point him to Christ, who makes the response possible.
That means the conclusion cannot be improvised. If you can say your big idea in one sentence, your conclusion is that sentence, aimed at a real person and pointed toward grace.
Pro-tip: Write your last sentence before Sunday, and stop when you get there.
A few questions to put to your ending before Sunday:
Does it land the big idea, or just list the points? A recap asks people to remember an outline. Landing the big idea asks them to respond to God.
Does it introduce anything new? A fresh illustration or a new text in the last two minutes starts a second sermon. If it is that good, it belongs earlier.
Does it end with Christ or with effort? If the final word is "try harder this week," the sermon ends in the listener's own strength. End where the passage leads: what God has done, and what that frees us to do.
Do you know your last sentence? Most circling happens because the preacher does not know where the runway ends. Write the final sentence out word for word. When you have said it, sit down.
None of this means being abrupt. A conclusion can be warm, unhurried, even tender. But it should feel like arriving, not like running out of time.
Start on purpose. End on purpose.