Confessions of a novice Baptist preacher.

When our first child was born, I was an older parent. I had waited a long time for this happy event. I read every book on developmental issues. I interviewed our pediatrician. I was tenacious about researching baby equipment.

My sister came to help me in the days after delivery. As long as she was there to cook and encourage, I knew that I could handle anything. The day that she left to go home, I faced a stark reality. I remember standing at my front door with the baby in my arms waving goodbye as my sister drove away. The tears were streaming down my face. When the baby and I went back inside, I looked at him and thought, "What do I do now?" And the only thing I knew to do was to start telling stories.

Similarly, when I was called to be a pastor, I was an older individual. I had waited twenty-five years for a pulpit to call my own. I had served in most every other ministerial capacity. I had studied to prepare myself. I had tried to research earnestly all the aspects of being a preacher. My first Sunday was amazing. There was an inspiring installation service. But on Monday, as my husband and I left to go to our respective offices, he looked at me and asked, "So pastor, what will you preach about this Sunday?" The reality of preaching on a weekly basis stared starkly back at me. Once more, the only thing I knew to do was to start telling stories.

The Role of the Storyteller

When we, as proclaimers of the gospel, take on the role of storyteller, we continue the oral tradition that is so easily recognizable in the pages of the Old and New Testaments. The faith of Israel, and eventually the early church, was formed in an oral culture. At the great Jewish festivals, the community would come together and recite its traditions. Likewise, the apostles of the first century traveled and told the stories of Jesus in a variety of contexts. The telling of those stories generated an ongoing community of oral tradition that we continue to foster in our pulpits, classrooms, and fellowship halls. (1)

For the gospel to connect with our congregations, we must move away from thinking that the stories contained within its pages have only ancient significance. The original intent of the biblical writers was that the stories would be memorized, internalized, and retold. Our task, therefore, is to create an intersection between faith and personal story that will provide individualized relevance and possible congregational transformation. (2)

The Storyteller Connects

When my preaching is logical and didactic in nature, I find that no one is moved. No one, figuratively or literally, jumps up and shouts, "I have been set free!" But when I tell a story ... oh, when I tell a story, I find that even our physical posture changes. We tend to bend toward one another. (3) The very nature of the storyteller is to lean forward. And when we, as preachers, dare to lean toward our congregation with stories of what is private and personal, our congregants will lean toward us as well. They will lean not only to learn from what we have to say, but they will lean toward us to tell us their stories. Suddenly, what has traditionally been one-way communication becomes conversation within the context of a community that values faith and imparts grace.

The relationship between the story and the storyteller is a strong bond. It is so powerful that often the storyteller becomes the stories with which they identify. The stories of Jacob and Job, the Psalmist and the Prophets, and most of all, the stories of Jesus and Paul inform our lives. They connect us to the ultimate truths of scripture. Our personal stories then become a part of the long tradition that is attached to the Ultimate Story. While we may hesitate to compare ourselves to such sacred tradition, we must be willing to admit the resemblance between Jesus in Gethsemane to the times we have begged God to spare our loved one's life while in the emergency room at the hospital. A correlation exists between our parishioners on their deathbeds reading and underlining the words of the Psalms and those of Jesus when he cried out to God from the cross. (4)

When we approach the biblical text, it is imperative that we ask not only "What does this mean?" but also, "How is this text happening in our world around us?" Still closer to home, we must ask, "How is this story an event in my own life? How is this ancient story a recounting of my personal story? How is what is being described revisited in my office or classroom, at the gym or coffee fellowship, or even around my own dining room table with those precious people I choose to share my life? How is the drama of the biblical text happening in our own personal psyche and soul? How do we know these characters as figures in our dreams and aspects of ourselves that haunt and heal us?" (5)

Finding new life in the biblical tradition has everything to do with taking our faith experience seriously and honoring a process of reflection. As much as we are capable of doing this, the gospel no longer is just a story that we have read. Rather, it becomes the very essence of who we are. Story becomes a sort of marriage between written word, reader, teller, and listener. Rather than just telling the story, we can embody it to the listener. The truth of the story comes through our body, voice, and character. And when this happens, our worship becomes an undeniable reality of the gift of grace.

The Responsible Storyteller

While self-disclosing communication will build trust and enrich the relationship between the storyteller and the listener, we must be careful to keep as our objective the congregation's self-exploration for the purpose of making decisions for faith commitments. Our preaching is not an opportunity for the preacher to self-explore or to have an opportunity for personal catharsis. Our objective is solely to personalize a story in such a way that we recognize our own joys and struggles in the pilgrimage of another.

Placing a Face on Scripture

In February 2004, my father died of cancer, following a long, arduous illness. Shortly before he began to restrict his activities, he agreed to travel from his home in Evergreen, Alabama, to Birmingham to officiate at the funeral of one of his closest friends. I drove the three hours to Evergreen to pick him up and bring him to Birmingham. Our trip was interrupted by his need to stop frequently to deal with the resulting nausea from radiation treatments. As we made our way, he pulled out a tiny pocket Bible and began to review the passages of scripture that he would read at graveside. When I saw that he was having difficulty focusing on the small print, I suggested that he use one of my large print Bibles. He emphatically refused, telling me that this Bible had been his wedding gift to himself. From it, he had shared scripture with my mother on the first night of their honeymoon, and he had used it for every service ever since.

Not too long after that, we made another stop. As I waited in the car, I realized that Dad had left his Bible on the front seat. I picked it up, took off the rubber band that held it together, and began to thumb through it. Various passages were marked by pen, others with paper clips. Some of the pages fell open naturally to favorite passages. As I turned to the pages marked with bookmarks, I was surprised to see my sister's engagement picture, then my brother's passport picture, and finally, there I was ... a snaggle-toothed second grader. As I thumbed through those holy pages and saw each family member's face, I was reminded of how the stories of scripture, their characters and eternal messages, are to take on our faces and the faces of those to whom we are called to proclaim.

(1.) Thomas Boomershine, "God's Story and Our Story: An Overview" (lecture, Convention of The National Organization for Continuing Education of Roman Catholic Clergy, Inc., Orlando, Florida, 1997).

(2.) Gary Smith, "Tales that Transform: Weaving Stories Into the Sermon," in The Art and Craft of Preaching, ed. Terry Sweetser (Minneapolis, MN: Rising Press, 1993).

(3.) Edmund Steimle, Preaching the Story (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980).

(4.) Stephen E. Broyles, The Wind that Destroys and Heals (Colorado Springs, CO: Shaw Books, 2003).

(5.) William L. Dols, "An Introductory Lecture" (The 2002 Luther TUcker Lectureship, The Indian Hills Church, Cincinnati, OH, 2002).

Sarah Jackson Shelton is pastor of Baptist Church of the Covenant, Birmingham, Alabama.