I Love to Tell the Story

“I love to tell the story of unseen things above, of Jesus and his glory, of Jesus and his love; I love tell the story because I know ‘tis true, it satisfies my longings as nothing else can do. I love to tell the story! ‘Twill be my theme in glory – to tell the old, old story of Jesus and his love.” Perhaps some of you remember this old hymn. It’s not in our hymnal, although it is in the Lutheran and Presbyterian hymnals, and doubtless others.

I do love to tell the story of Jesus and his love. That’s what preachers do! Really, most preachers have only one sermon, and in one form or another, it’s the story of Jesus’ love and its impact on us. And it’s a supremely important story. There would be no church without it. It’s that story – of their sense of the continued presence and love of the risen Christ – that led Jesus’ first followers to leave their former lives and establish new communities in Jesus’ name.

But there are also some other important stories to tell, stories of change and transformation in people who have been touched by God and by Jesus. In our psalm for today we hear the story of a familiar kind of change and transformation. At first, the psalmist is feeling satisfied with the good life (“I said in my prosperity, ‘I shall never be moved’”). Then bad things happen (“you hid your face and I was dismayed”). Instead of falling into deep despair, the psalmist begins to argue with God (“Will the dust praise you or declare your faithfulness?”). Finally the psalmist chooses to trust that God will hear his plea (“Hear, O Lord, and have mercy on me, O Lord be my helper”). The result? The psalmist’s despair is turned into joy and gratitude (“Therefore my heart sings to you without ceasing; O Lord my God, I will give you thanks for ever”).

Our Gospel reading from the last chapter of John’s Gospel – what some have considered an epilogue to the gospel – tells us of another kind of transformation, here of Peter. In all the gospels Peter is clearly the leader of the first band of disciples who gather around Jesus. And he is the first to give voice to their growing sense that Jesus is God’s anointed one. Yet Peter is often impulsive and clueless. He speaks without thinking or says the wrong thing. Remember “Let us build three booths” after the disciples experience Jesus’ transfiguration? Or “Get thee behind me Satan?” Worse, when Jesus is arrested, Peter denies three times that he even knows Jesus, and he is nowhere to be found when Jesus is executed. Here on the beach in Galilee he seems depressed, perhaps even regretful. You can hear him sigh, “I’m going fishing.” Then the real miracle happens: Peter recognizes Jesus standing on the shore. Fed by Jesus’ presence, Peter is able to emphatically answer Jesus’ questions: “Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you.” With Jesus’ final “Feed my sheep,” Peter is transformed into a true leader of the fledgling community, a true pastor, who will end up giving his own life for the sheep.

Paul’s transformation from persecutor of the earliest followers of the Way to evangelist to the gentiles is perhaps the most dramatic story. Although he never knew Jesus in the flesh, Paul had a vision of Jesus’ presence so vivid and so immediate that all he could say was, “Who are you, Lord?” Led into the city, he fasted and prayed for three days, until Ananias acted on his vision and took the risk of going to Paul. Having received his sight, Paul was baptized. And then without any seminary education or homiletics course, he immediately began to preach: “He began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogue, saying, ‘He is the Son of God.’”

Are these stories too far-fetched for us? We generally don’t have altar calls in the Episcopal Church. Yet some people do have dramatic, spiritual experiences. Someone may kneel at the altar rail and have such a deep sense of God’s presence that life is changed forever. Another person may look around them, perhaps at other people, perhaps in a natural setting, and know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God exists. Others are gradually transformed as they are gently drawn into the heart of a vital faith community. And God may want to work other kinds of transformations in us. Not many of us actively persecute our opponents. But could we be on the wrong path in other ways? Perhaps we are selfish, headstrong, stubborn, consumed with our own desires, caught in addictions, and blind to the needs of others. Consider: the person who goes after that promotion so single-mindedly that their marriage falls apart, or their family suffers; the angry young person who can recite all their parents’ mistakes while forgetting everything their parents did right; the person so self-absorbed that they are unable to express love for their spouse or family; the chronic complainer; the enabling spouse who allows another’s alcoholism to destroy a family; the person who disdains those of other faith communities; partisan political leaders without a sense of the common good who are unable to compromise. Do you see yourself in any of these examples? Was there a point in your life where you finally knew you needed to do things differently? When you finally saw the light?

What was the light that finally helped you to see life differently? Was it a friend, or a partner, or a child who took the risk of telling the truth? Did you wake up in the middle of the night and finally feel the emptiness in your own soul? And where was God in that change? The mystics teach us that God often initiates transformation. Sometimes God acts directly. Jesus showed up on the beach. God graced someone with a life-changing sense of God’s presence at the altar rail. Mostly God acts through others. In retrospect, we can often see that God gave the friend, partner, or child the courage to speak the needed word. Even without the blinding light, we might also admit that God opened our ears, or our eyes, or our hearts, to finally accept the truth and begin the hard process of change.

Now, here’s the hardest question of all. Can we share our story of conversion and transformation with others? Peter surely did. The stories from the book of Acts show us a Peter who is a skilled and convincing preacher, transformed by his relationship with the risen Jesus. Ii Acts we also see a Peter who is not afraid to go to the house of the gentile centurion Cornelius and preach the gospel, and a Peter who can help broker the compromise between those who would keep the Way of Jesus a sect limited to Jews and those who like Paul were ready to spread the good news to all, Jew and gentile alike. Paul also told his story, probably many times. We hear it again in his own voice in Acts 22, and he also alludes to it in the beginning of his letter to the Galatian Christians. One wonders how Peter and Paul felt telling their stories. Did their retellings make Jesus present to them again more deeply?

How about us? Can we tell the story of our life-changing experiences of God’s reality, of how we came to believe in the risen Christ and his love for us? Can we talk about how God continues to work within us, continues to change and transform us? “Not me!” you might say. Yet telling your own story can be a powerful experience for both the teller and the hearer. If you feel comfortable writing, one way to begin reflecting on your story is to write it down. You might begin by prayerfully reflecting on your life, especially on the places where you experienced a deeper kind of conversion or transformation. When and how did it happen? Who was the change-agent? Where was God? You can also review your day or week, in writing or in meditation, with the same questions in mind. Where was God in my day? How did I experience God’s transformative power and love in this day? Who or what helped me see God more clearly?

Perhaps we can also begin telling our stories to each other. With whom might we share our story? Are we embarrassed to do so? To whose story might we listen, and where? Can we listen to another’s story attentively and respectfully, listening for how God might be at work in another person’s life? Doesn’t telling our own story or listening to that of another deepen our understanding of God’s great love for us? My sisters and brothers, I know this: telling our own story is a powerful tool of evangelism. Do we want to strengthen the bonds within this community? Do we want it to be a vital cell in the body of Christ? A good way to begin is to share our experiences of God’s work among us. I invite you to ponder with me how we may begin telling our stories.

I love to tell the story of Jesus and his glory. I also love to tell the story of lives transformed by God’s grace, of the risen Christ at work in the people around us. “You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.” Is that your story too? If so, shout out your joy!