It was Tuesday morning—another blank-slate start to preparing next Sunday’s sermon. I hoped to have the message done by Thursday or Friday. Maybe I could even get started on next week’s message before the weekend. But on Friday, I found myself scrambling to construct something resembling a solid outline. Then I lost my entire Saturday to sermon prep.

No harm done, I thought. My family never scheduled any plans with me on Saturdays anyway. They knew better: “Dad is always crabby on Saturday, and it gets worse as the day wears on.” My wife called my over-the-top Saturday anxiety “PMS”: Pre-Message Syndrome.

On Sunday morning, I found myself emotionally drained with little to offer in terms of compassionate interaction with individual congregants. When the time arrived to preach, I once again stepped onto the stage unsure if this sermon would be all it could or should have been.

I had tried to change this exhausting cycle many times before. Speakers ...