Make Every Word Count. 6.12.2025

     “Take your stinking paws off me, You d***d dirty ape!” This was the first sentence the titular Apes had ever heard a human speak in the first film in the original Planet of the Apes film franchise. It shocked the apes who heard it in the movie, and it was a little shocking in our living room back in 1974. Within the universe of the movie, the “Apeverse”, if you will, this sentence was particularly shocking because in that world humans, (you’re just going to have to trust me on this) had lost the capacity for speech. 

    In that Apeverse astronauts, the central character Taylor, being played by Charlton Heston, crash landed on a planet they have presumed to be outside of our galaxy, when in fact, having traveled forward in time they had landed on good ol’ earth. They found the planet greatly changed by the human propensity for violent destruction. After nuclear holocaust the world had been subdued by the advanced race of Apes who in their various species and castes had come to rule. Humans were speechless wild animals, hunted for sport and subjected to laboratory experiment. 

    When Taylor is injured during his capture, he is temporarily unable to speak. Boy were those Apes surprised when they heard those first words! They were a turning point in that first film and have become a familiar trope both in the various Planet of the Apes franchises and in other popular media. 

    As was the case last week, we now come to the point where I must tie this discussion into the work of preaching. Whereas it may not have been Taylor’s focus in the movie—he was clearly quite upset at his unfair treatment, for us, his lucid, if brief outburst, can serve as a reminder of the need for focused, clear, well-edited writing. 

    The sentence in question is ten words. Ten words that are on point, specific, and transparent. They specify an action as well as clearly identifying what Taylor thinks of his captors. Even the swear word shows that the speaker is not only emotional, he is in fact outraged by his treatment by those he thinks are “beneath” him. Despite his circumstances and the crassness of what he says there is a kind of direct eloquence to what Taylor says. No one would doubt his emotional frame of mind nor his meaning. They may not like what he says, even less the tone in which he says it, but there is no doubt about the message his words convey. 

    Clearly, I do not know and am unable to discover the process by which these famous words came to be written. I have not (unfortunately) read the original novel by Pierre Boule nor have I read the screen play. My observations are based solely on what we hear in the movie. And that is enough. These ten words were not likely written as they now stand. Despite its brevity, the sentence gives evidence—as virtually all good writing does, of being edited into its current form. 

    Beyond spelling and punctuation, good editing addresses three aspects of writing. It deals with form (structure), content (information), and context (appropriate to genre, intent of the work, and expectations of the audience). This brief sentence exhibits a clear structure. Strong verb (take), clear object (your paws), a single prepositional phrase that clarifies intent (off me), followed by similar pointed second clause which structurally and emotionally intensifies the message of the first clause. 

    Overthinking on my part? Perhaps.  My point is that memorable sermons will be composed of  effective sentences, and those sentences require editorial attention. Editing takes time and space. And while the time may seem like a poor investment, well-edited work has clarity and specificity that poorly edited work does not. Writing can be done quickly. Composition is the process of getting words onto the page. Editing is an act of revisiting and reviewing. Not merely revising and reconsidering but coming back to our words for the purpose of providing texture and color. Sometimes this process means addition and other times it means subtraction. Editing is the “work” part of the process. Well edited sermons will preach better and sound better because the bumps have been removed, the potholes filled, and the shoulders smoothed. 

    We must take particular care how our written words will sound. Preaching is written for the ear.  As speakers we must be more diligent to make every word count. As I have transitioned through the years to a richer and fuller manuscript, I have discovered that it is far easier to be precise in choosing and deploying words because I know that I will not need to retain large blocks of text in my memory. Do I still have those blocks somewhere in the wet ware? Yes, I do. But it is not retained because of a specific act or process of memorizing, but through the concerted effort at proofing, correcting, editing, abbreviating, expanding, and constructing what I write rather than just tossing it at the page. A well-conceived program of process-driven preaching is built around repeated trips through the text to revisit the points of exegesis and refine what you write. You don’t memorize because you focus on memorization, but because you are repeatedly immersed in the words you are writing. People don’t memorize song lyrics because they try to memorize them. They become lodged in memory by repeatedly singing them. Our written words are likewise embedded in our memory by continually refining them. 

    He may not have written them himself, but Taylor’s words counted. Every single one. They expressed exactly what he was thinking, revealed his emotions, and dramatized his outrage. Ten words did all that because they were the right words and every single one was correct in form, content, and context (Paws instead of hands). 

    Preaching can be hard, brain-breaking work. What is the point if we do not try and do the best job of it that we can? Why choose words that almost say what the Spirit puts in our heart when with a little work we can find the right word to explain the text and make God’s message clear and understandable? Words are valuable, powerful, and durative. Make every one of them count.