A few weeks ago, when Front Range’s beloved matriarch of the theater, Sharon Payne, was out of town, I had the privilege of filling in for rehearsal for the fall production of Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. As I sat in the PAC and watched the students eagerly stumble through their nearly-memorized lines while they told the well-known holiday tale of tragedy and transformation, I was reminded of why I had also loved the stage when I was in school—it is a weighty task, but a true joy, to try to tell a story well.
This past weekend, another teacher and I got the opportunity to see the Broadway production of Hamilton—a gift given graciously to us by a former student who knew just how much my colleague loved history. Over the course of the stunning performance, my heart swelled and stung and beat to the powerful rhythms of courage, persistence, and humanity that fueled America’s founding. The show ends as the cast repeats a beautiful and haunting refrain, “Who’ll tell your story?”
There is something so special, so compelling, about storytelling through the arts.
We find our seats, the lights go down, and suddenly, we are asked to imagine, to empathize, to question, to believe. We are asked to step into another world, another life, and in turn, examine our own.
It is no wonder to me that Jesus used stories so often to captivate and confront his listeners.
“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed…”
“There was a landowner who planted a vineyard…”
“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he was attacked by robbers…”
Story not only allows us to suspend our own limited perceptions of reality in order to see new and more beautiful perspectives, but also often serves to affirm our own experiences, joining us to one another as, together, we seek the beauty of the Kingdom in a broken world.
Through the story of the Good Samaritan, we are reminded that compassion often takes courage.
Through the story of Alexander Hamilton, we are reminded that persistence, faithfulness, and forgiveness are more valuable than power.
Through the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, we are reminded that the Kingdom is for the least of these, and that redemption is always, always possible.
I am grateful to work in a place where eloquent and honest stories are celebrated—on our stage, in our classrooms, and in our relationships. May we be parents, teachers, staff, and students who have eyes to see and ears to hear the promises of Jesus—of the good life—in the stories that we perform, write, and tell. May we let ourselves be captivated and confronted by good stories.
This week, ask your child to tell you a story. Listen and look for the places where His words, His truth, and His love are present in the stories that they tell, and the stories that they love.
Oh, and come see the fall play this weekend—it’s a pretty good story, if you ask me.
