I was visiting a church one Sunday. It was rainy that morning, and on top of that it was the day Daylight Savings Time began. That meant everyone had lost an hour of sleep, so the day was ultra gloomy. The service was relatively full, even with all the elements working against the church, so it wasn’t as bad as I thought. The worship was great and the crowd energy was pretty good for a service like that.
But when the message began, I found myself having a difficult time paying attention. The speaker just wasn’t capturing my imagination. It wasn’t that he was a bad speaker. He was logical in his thought process and he didn’t use archaic language. Something just wasn’t connecting, though.
He told one story of a prominent CEO his friend once knew who was great at his job. When asked, the CEO could provide a verbatim response for the mission of his company. And more than that, he could give a succinct explanation of what his role was within the organization. Imagine if we could do that same sort of thing for our lives.
That illustration should have pricked my heart, considering I was writing this book at the time. I should have resonated with it so strong. But I didn’t.
Next, he told about an athlete he’d once read about. To be honest, I don’t even remember this story. I was almost asleep at this point.
But then, when I thought all hope was lost, he grabbed my attention. “Many people haven’t dealt with losing a son at a young age. Many haven’t had to deal with a wife with Alzheimers. Many haven’t lost both their mom and dad within weeks of each other. But that’s my story.” I sad forward.
As soon as the speaker said “that’s my story”, he had my attention. When he was telling other people’s stories, I lost all interest. But his story had an emotional element the others didn’t have. They were his stories and they helped me connect with him. I realized this guy was no longer speaking from textbook knowledge, he was speaking from personal experience. It was his story I was learning about—not just a theoretical one.
I think many people neglect to place value on their own background. They think it’s nothing special because they compare their background to others’ exciting history. Or maybe they don’t value their background because it’s filled with pain and heartache. Or they simply don’t pause and reflect on the implications of their own backstory. To them, it’s simply commonplace. It’s just what happened.
Never underestimate the power of your own story. It may not seem glamorous to you, but it has immense value. It may be filled with pain and sorrow, but it has value for your future—for who God is making you to be.
So, what do you do when the speaker has no more personal stories?
Get out of the office and have some adventures. 🙂
So, how do you tell your Sr. Pastor to do that? oh, without getting a tongue lashing. 🙂
Besides referring them to articles that just happen to say the info you’re trying to relay…not sure I have any hope for you. Unless a senior pastor is wanting critique, any input you have will be unwelcome.