LIBERTY UNIVERSITY JOHN W. RAWLINGS SCHOOL OF DIVINITY
Do Christians Underestimate the Power of Stories?
A Paper Submitted to
the Faculty of the School of Divinity
in Candidacy for the Degree of
Doctor of Education in Christian Leadership (Ed. D) Department of Christian Leadership and
Church Ministries
By
Mary Gracias
Lynchburg, Virginia
5/2022
Do Christians Underestimate the Power of Stories?
When things seem wrong, people recount the stories of God's intervention in the lives of
our forefathers (Psalm 44). This reminds us of our identity and gives hope. The prophet
encourages us to remember our origins in order to build confidence for the present: "Look to
the rock from which you were cut" (Isaiah 51:1-3). Retelling the history of Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob reminds us what kind of God we are praying to: the one who has shown Himself faithful
throughout time and will act again on our behalf. Later, the sermons of Peter and Stephen
recite the significant events and purposes in the history of the people of God, placing our lives
in a larger context.
We are a community shaped by stories. Anthropologists, philosophers, historians and
theologians agree that we experience our lives and the world around us narratively. We seek
beginnings and endings, climax and conclusion. We also weave our own personal stories into
larger ones like human progress through science, social systems or religion. We all want to be
part of a bigger story than ourselves.
Despite the post-modern announcement of the death of metanarratives, they still seem
deeply rooted. However, the Church has at times been scared of story, treating the narratives
just as a source from which to distil doctrines, which somehow are seen as a purer, safer truth.
Yet storytelling is an important part of formation of the Christian community and integral to the
dynamic of teaching.
Moreover, with our storytelling we subvert dominant narratives around us. In Disciples and
Citizens, Bishop Cray wrote:
"Jesus was a storyteller. He taught in parables. Many of the parables retold Israel's story in
ways that seemed familiar when they began, but brought the listener to a conclusion they did
not expect. In this way, He gave His listeners the opportunity to see their assumptions and
worldviews differently and to respond accordingly... This was subversive engagement with
Israel's understanding of its story. We need to find similar, imaginative ways to retell, subvert
and challenge our nation's stories."
Jesus' parables were provocative stories, inviting the hearers to leave conventional
understanding and encounter new and potentially transformative views. And we are called to
shape our work, family life and community activity in such a way that it points to the story of
Christ.
The oral tradition didn't merely characterise the 1st century; it can be as powerful in our
time, enhanced by a diversity of creative media forums. We live in a culture that values
authentic voices and stories.
"The social-ethical task of the Church ... is to be the kind of community that tells and tells
rightly the story of Jesus", wrote Stanley Hauerwas. "We continue this truth when we see the
struggle of each to be faithful to the Gospel as essential to each of our lives." Good stories,
whether explicitly or implicitly biblical, have the potential to awaken consciousness in society.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin!”
How many of us remember this litany – the opening line from a long-running BBC radio
program for children – from our younger years? It’s still said today as we introduce young
people to the power of stories. Whether you love books or films, fact or fiction, television or
radio, you will know how captivated we can be by a good story. And because stories are
everywhere we can easily lose sight of the power that they have over us and the influence that
they can bring to bear on people, communities and nations. The most powerful stories are
those that contain characters with whom we can easily identify.
To see ourselves as the victim (or even the villain!), the one struggling against the odds, the
one who falls in love or who suffers unbearable loss – these are the stories into which we are
drawn and in a very real sense we become part of that story. As Christians, the story we are
most familiar with is that which is recounted in the Bible. From Genesis through Revelation,
there is a narrative, a flow of events that take us on a journey. From creation to fall, and fall to
redemption, well – you can almost hear the producer cry “Action!” This is the story that invites
our participation. In fact, all stories invite participation. That’s how they work.
Why else do you stay awake at night to get to the last page of a novel? The events never
even happened, so why do we well up in tears or gape open-mouthed at a turn of events we
didn’t anticipate? That’s the power of the story. And that brings me to the Quran. Unlike the
Judeo-Christian Scriptures, the Quran doesn’t follow a narrative style. It isn’t story in the way
that the Bible patently is. It doesn’t have a beginning, middle and an end. It neither has an
overarching meta-narrative nor within it a series of accessible mini-narratives. Further, the
Quran is nonlinear. For example, the first verses revealed to the Muhammad are not at the
beginning of the Quran but in Surah 96:1-5. The final revelation comes not at the end but in
Surah 5:3. I believe the significance of this is enormous, and it’s getting greater before our very
eyes.
If stories draw us in, then the absence of story demands an alternative dynamic of
engagement. The question is: What is that alternative?
Let’s go back to the Bible again and consider the story of the prodigal son. It requires just
22 verses of Scripture in Luke 15. Translate it into any number of languages or dialects. Go for a
literal translation, a dynamic equivalent or a paraphrase. As long as you’re not too cavalier with
the translation, it won’t matter. The story retains its ancient power – the power to shock, to
challenge, to grieve and to move people to feel saddened, appalled, angry or resentful. But it
also has the power to move, to uplift, to restore and to impart emotions of forgiveness, joy,
restoration and agape love.
Don’t worry about the words. It’s the narrative that carries the impact. The Quran, on the
other hand, because of its style and structure, demands an alternative means of engagement.
There isn’t a narrative to draw us in, lift us up and cast us down. What there is, Muslims will
point out, is the conviction that the Quran in its original Arabic is the actual dictated words of
God, the ipsissima verba of Allah himself.
For this reason alone, there is strong encouragement to memorize the Quran. And while
most Muslims cannot understand Arabic, a point to which I will return, there is a sensuous
beauty in its calligraphy and in its lyrical recitation. These too are means of engagement. But
there is largely an absence of narrative, especially in the vernacular language of the people, for
while the Quran can be translated, the translation is not the Quran, but a mere representation
of it. And so we must ask ourselves about the relative power of narrative over and against the
artistry of a script and its aural qualities. And with the utmost respect, this is where I sense
Islam is struggling. The last 20 to 30 years or so have arguably been the most tumultuous
upheaval in the Islamic world since the early days of the faith itself.
In the space of a few decades, Islam has crashed headlong from a largely premodern world
into modernity – and then from modernity into postmodernity – almost in the blink of an eye.
In the space of these few years, the world has changed beyond all recognition for all of us. The
advent of technology, from satellite televisions to cheaper air travel, has brought Muslims face
to face with different worlds in a way that previous generations had not experienced. Mass
migrations from South Asia to the West have done the same, with a particular challenge for
second- and third-generation immigrants.
The Internet has made the global village a present reality, even if your home is still in
Pakistan, Indonesia or the Middle East. Everyone – be they Jew, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist or
Muslim – everyone looks for resources to cope with this brave new world. Believers of
whatever kind will look to their faith. The absence of this compelling narrative has arguably
found expression in different phenomena. On the one hand, it has contributed to an almost
counterintuitive retreat to a supposed idyllic age where Islam could isolate itself from the
world.
The failed experiments of Iran and Afghanistan bear testimony to this, as do other
regressive regimes based on Sharia law. In others, it has resulted in the anger we see in those
who feel alienated from the world, resulting in terrorism of the worst kind. Of course, as in all
cultures, the majority are in the middle, untouched by these extremes, but the extremes are
those who impact most on others so they are the issues we find ourselves dealing with.
I believe the narrative structure of the Bible commends itself to men and women searching
for help in a confusing world. In fact, as we see increasing numbers of men and women
becoming “followers of Jesus” within their own cultural tradition, it’s the stories of Jesus that
impact them the most. For that reason alone, we should treasure our Scriptures, know the
story they tell, and be ready to bear witness to the Christ they reveal whenever we have the
opportunity.
