Last year I took a class called “Narrative Hermeneutics” … in other words “Storytelling as Preaching.” I found the class transformative, but I also felt it was beyond my ability. I do not consider myself a creative writer. How I birthed a poet, I’ll never know. However, I know that I am transfixed whenever I hear a preacher tell a story. I know I can never catch all the subtle nuances when I’m listening, but the Holy Spirit takes me to a place within myself where I can apply the story to my life more easily than a sermon sometimes does.
Below is my first ever attempt at writing a story. In the class the storytelling technique that I worked on was telling my own stories (real examples from my own life and applying it to the text), but I hadn’t tried creating a story. My guts were in knots this morning (literally). I had hoped to tell the story without the script, but my nerves at experiencing this sermon wouldn’t let me relax.
The story is based on my reflection on what I thought Psalm 8 was saying to me, plus the other assigned texts for the day. Additionally, today is “Trinity Sunday” and you’ll see this motif coming out in the sermon as well.
Psalm 8
O LORD, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. 2 Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have founded a bulwark because of your foes, to silence the enemy and the avenger. 3 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars that you have established; 4 what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortalsa that you care for them? 5 Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor. 6 You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;
you have put all things under their feet, 7 all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, 8 the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the seas. 9 O LORD, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
Let me tell you a story…
There was a father and a young son. They loved each other. One of their favourite things to do together was taking the dogs for walks. …… Rain or shine; wind or snow.
The father often carried an umbrella ………. One of those old-fashioned walking stick styles …. With a long wood shaft and a curved handle … and a broad, black nylon brim with a pointed tip.
The umbrella somehow looked out of place with this rugged man.
The father loved to teach his son about plants, birds, animals, …… the weather.
He was a man of simple faith…….he knew that God the Father had created everything …. And it was good. ……. This goodness is what he taught his son.
How many times had his son asked the same umbrella question over the years??? He guessed the boy should have the answer memorized by now. But here they were … by the stream, sitting on the big rock …. The rock will soon not be big enough for both of them …. But for now they snuggled.
“Daddy, why do you always carry an umbrella?” The father always gave the same response …..
“Have you forgotten what I told you the last time? ….. “And the time before that??? …. “and the …”
His son broke in, “Come on Daddy …. Tell me the story again.”
The father knew there would be a time when his son would no longer ask the question ….or go for walks….and the father wanted for the ancient story to live in his son’s heart.
“…….I carry the umbrella in the same way that my father carried it and his father before that. ………….I love to walk in the beauty of Father God. ……to watch over and care for the land that the Father has created. I can only do that when I know the birds and bugs, animals and plants, …. And where the water flows from and where it flows to…..And I can only know the land when I pay attention to what the weather and the seasons are doing.”
“Do you see that tree over there?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Said the boy.
“Father God grew that tree. And Father God grew the tree that his Son, Jesus, was crucified upon. ……….. You remember that Jesus died on the tree for our sins ….. because he loved us so.”
The little boy said, “Yes, Daddy.”
“The shaft of this umbrella is made of wood. And when it rains, I have to hold on to it. And if there’s a wind and rain, I have to grasp and tightly cling to it … as though clinging to Jesus. So …… I walk in my life with an umbrella.
His son always jumped in with the next question, “But Daddy, it doesn’t rain all the time. And it’s not windy everyday. Why do you walk with the umbrella???”
“An open umbrella is like the Holy Spirit ……..hovering over top of us ……protecting us, shielding us from the full intensity of the sun’s rays, clearing our vision so we can walk with sure steps. ……………… We need an umbrella in all seasons of our life. ……. And we give our umbrellas away so others won’t get wet or sunburned.”
The little boy laughed and said, “We don’t use umbrellas in winter!” The two laughter at that joke …. As they always did.
The Dad said, as they got up, “How is it that I have such a smart boy?”
In the fullness of time, …….which is always too soon……the father died. ……. At the graveside, it was misty rainy. ……. The son, now grown and middle aged, lifted his head and he saw a sea of umbrellas. ….. All sizes and colours……..And he watched as people invited others to share their umbrellas………He smiled.
Now his own son, ….. the next generation, ….. who was already taller and stronger than he was, ……… came up close and said,
“Dad, I gave my umbrella to that lady. Can I share your’s?”
With knowing looks and smiles they knew the ancient story lives.
Amen
Liz and I thought your message this morning was excellent. You did not appear to be nervous and you delivered one of your best to date.
Thanks, John. This sermon was ‘stepping out in faith’ and I’m glad that I didn’t resist the Spirit’s bidding. It’s always feels like such a risk to do something ‘different.’