I’m not sure where our daughter, Kinsey, gets her fearlessness… I know it is not from me. She’s in Zambia this semester taking classes and working in medical clinics… and loving it. Recently, I walked in her room and noticed a journal entitled: “What Would I Do If I Knew I Could Not Fail?” So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised us to get a picture through e-mail of her bungee jumping off Victoria Falls. I think she did an even crazier thing in Europe with her brother, Taylor, last spring. They were coming to the end of their trip, getting ready to take an overnight train from Florence, Italy to Paris where they would spend a day and a night before catching a plane to Atlanta. Kinsey was walking along thinking about the smooth trip she and her brother had enjoyed when she decided to pray a bold prayer: “Lord, thank you for this gift you have given us, but we’ve not really had an adventure yet. You know our family always has a story after a trip, would you give me and Taylor an exciting one to tell?”
What does God do with such prayers? He must laugh… and in this case answered, “OK… I have just the adventure.” I can’t tell every detail, but that very afternoon Taylor and Kinsey went to the wrong tracks and missed the train to Paris. Two American girls from Boston, who had been studying a semester in France, joined them in the same predicament. Instantly these four became a team with a common, urgent goal. “It was awesome, Dad, each one of us had a unique talent to offer the group,” Kinsey shared. “I’m glad I wasn’t there,” I said. “Yeah… you would have died.” (I don’t handle these adventures too well… and I sure don’t pray for them!) Over the course of the next twenty hours, these four travelers talked their way onto two trains. One took them to Milan, where they spent a sleepless night in a train station with some interesting Italians. How they managed the last leg of the journey, I’ll never understand, but somehow they boarded a sold-out train and arrived safely in Paris in time to see a few sights before catching their plane home. “Didn’t God answer my prayer in an incredible way?!” Kinsey exclaimed. Susan and I just shook our heads.
My kids say I’m a good storyteller, but I confess I can only tell two types. If something interesting or exciting happens to me or my family I can usually create a nice tale, and I can tell stories that have already been told. For the life of me, however, I can’t make up a good story. How I admire those that can! How I love the greatest Storyteller!
A young married couple visited us this past weekend and shared of their work among the Altai people in Siberia near the border of Mongolia. These people do not read, so the missionaries’ method of sharing the Gospel was through storytelling. Jesus loved this method. Prophets of old predicted the Chosen One would come to earth telling parables… stories with a meaning. He told them to the rich, the poor, the righteous, and sinners. Sometimes people wished he were more direct, but Jesus chose to tell stories. I sometimes wonder how many he told that weren’t recorded, but perhaps I should reread and ponder the ones that were.
“Jesus answered by telling a story…”
“Then he told them this story…”
“Jesus followed up, ‘There once was a man…’”
“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘There once was a rich man…’”
“Jesus told them a story showing it was necessary for them to pray consistently and never quit.”
“He told his next story to some who were complacently pleased with themselves over their moral performance and looked down their noses at the common people.”
“He told them a story. ‘Look at a fig tree…’”
“Study this story of the farmer planting seed…”
“Are you listening to this? Really listening? God’s kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field for years and then accidentally found by a trespasser. The finder is ecstatic – what a find! – and proceeds to sell everything he owns to raise money and buy that field.” (Matthew and Luke – The Message)