June 20, 2012

Campfire stories and Evangelism

The goo of the marshmallow hadn't begun to seep over the chocolate and graham cracker before the requests started. Tell us a story. A good one. A long one. Scary. But not too scary.

Tell us a story.

By this time, our last night of a two-week camping trip, I had already discharged most of my campfire story arsenal. I started to cannibalize movies, books and urban legends, creating a PG-mash up of Psycho, Flowers in the Attic, the one-armed escaped convict with a hook and a dash of Hansel and Gretl.

For the ending, I enlisted classic campfire story technique -- one that left possible menace hanging in the air, primed for imagination to take the tale on a new course.

I settled into my chair, ready for s'mores.

My son stared at me, incredulous. You can't stop there, he insisted. What happened to the people? Did they escape or die? Did the monsters come back?

You didn't finish the story.

But that's the end, I insisted.

But he refused to accept my offering. He wanted the complete story. He wanted to know what happened next. For him, the story wasn't over -- it had just started.

In our diocese, we've begun to think of ways we can help people tell their faith stories, to witness how Christ is moving in and through them. 

Most of us, when pressed, can share the basics of our faith -- and perhaps even a few reasons why we believe. But if we stop there, the story is incomplete. We are called to share how our faith has changed us, how it gives us strength at times and weakness at others, and the peace to accept both. Our story doesn't end with a cliffhanger but explores the different paths we chose, some right and some wrong, and how our faith helped navigate us back home. 

We can't just leave the listener with the glorious story of Jesus' resurrection. We have to tell them what happened next, in our own lives, in this day.

For us, the story isn't over. It is just starting.