The Gift of Story


The Gift of Story

            The last Sunday in September I had the chance to preach at the first church I served.  I went to First Presbyterian Church of Malvern, Arkansas right out of Seminary at the ripe age of 25.  First Presbyterian Church sees itself as a church for new pastors. This church gives new pastors plenty of grace and opportunities and helps them learn how to be pastors.  It also challenges them out of naïve thinking. I loved my time there.  The best part was that I met and married my wife, Crysta. Since we have family in Malvern, I have returned many times over the years and had many chances to worship with this community.
            But I had not preached since I left over 29 years ago. Crysta had a high school reunion coming up and I reached out to the pastor Courtney, telling her I wanted to share with the church where I was in my journey of faith.  She graciously offered me the chance to preach.  I decided I would share three stories from the last five years that had a significant impact on my understanding of Christ and of life.  One of those stories was the Wild Mustang story, a story I shared in a previous blog. (See 10/10/2019 The Wild Mustangs) What a joy it was to stand before this congregation and share where my journey has taken me.
            The church was kind and gracious in their responses to the sermon, as I knew they would be.  Some came up and wanted to share their own experiences of God and of wild animals.  I love when that happens.  We are a people who love to share our stories and hear other’s stories.
            Later that day Crysta got a message from Nikki, the daughter of Vonda.  Nikki and Vonda had been at church that morning. Vonda was an English teacher at Malvern High School.  She is Crysta’s favorite teacher.  Vonda had a way of making the stories of literature come alive.  As her pastor, I spent many hours visiting with Vonda.  We would talk about the books we were reading and places we had visited.  I loved my time with Vonda.  Often after I left her house, I would want to go home and spend the night reading.
            Unfortunately, Vonda now has Alzheimer’s.  She still lives at home and gets lots of help from her husband and her daughters.  She does not talk much and recognizes only a few people.  She still comes to church every Sunday, knows a few hymns and the Lord’s Prayer.  The Sunday I was there she was very nice to me, but she did not recognize me. 
            Nikki wanted Crysta and me to know what happened with her mom later that day.  Nikki and Vonda were sitting around that Sunday evening and Vonda looked at Nikki and said, “Today was a good day.”  Nikki was surprised by Vonda’s comments.  Nikki replied, “Because Clay was there?” “Yes,” Vonda said.  “Was it the story about the horses?” Nikki asked.  “Yes,” Vonda looked up at Nikki, “the horses.”  Nikki told Crysta, “This is remarkable for Mom to comment like that. Vonda’s in there and Clay brought her out.”
            It was the story that brought her out.  A story about horses.  Why horses? (A question to be pondered) It’s a story that moves beyond the intellect and touches the soul.  Vonda’s mind is fading.  But her soul is as alive as ever.  Stories shared by storytellers out of their own soul can touch the soul of others, beyond the minds that can’t understand those stories. What a wonderful, powerful moment.  The horses. The story.
I think this is what it means to be Lover of Soul and Inviter to the Dance. On that Sunday morning, Vonda, a woman struggling with Alzheimer’s, joined the dance, a dance her soul has never stopped dancing. Praise be to God!

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