DR. JACK R. VAN ENS, AUTHOR

CREATIVE GROWTH INC.

9745 W. 77 TH DRIVE

ARVADA, CO 80005

TEL. 303-420-7416

E-mail: vanensfam@juno.com

Web site: www.thelivinghistory.com

STORIES DRAMATICALLY TOLD ARE BOLD AND BRIGHT

Spinning stories is more effective than sermonizing. Dramatists grab our attention more effectively than speechmakers do. Lofty platitudes turn off listeners. They buck a barrage of holier-than-thou moral assertions. President Warren G. Harding didn't excite audiences. He uttered what sounded like ho-hum sermons with political twists. Acid-tongued critic H. L. Mencken blasted Harding for his speechifying because it "reminds me of a string of wet sponges... It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash."

Jesus shied from giving speeches or delivering sermons. Instead, he spun stories called parables. "With many such parables he spoke the word," to his listeners ( Mark 4:33). He seldom limited inquiry to run-of-the-mill topics. In his storytelling Jesus traced connections between God and humanity. He didn't sound like a lawyer who gets buried in details. Neither did he remind listeners of a philosopher whose fondness for large problems often leads to esoteric theories. Jesus loved the down-to-earth quality stories impart.

A storyteller tells tantalizing tales we don't want to end. We love to sit around a campfire eager to hear what happens next. Aren't we insatiably curious about how virtue and vice duke it out in stories? At a writing conference this spring, Christian storyteller Kathleen Norris identified us as "hairy story-telling bipeds." We enjoy getting tangled in an exciting yarn.

Why do stories swell our spirits and spur adventurous hearts?

Listeners who hear my portrayals of Thomas Jefferson wonder why I don't recite cuttings from his famous speeches. His prose is so condensed that it makes a greater impression read than said.

Weaving stories through patterns in Jefferson's life make a lasting impact. Finding out why he made moral compromises or describing pivotal events in his life perk up listeners. When history's dramatic, it comes alive.

Christ's enemies wanted him dead. If he baldly said what he believed about God's judgment on rotten religion, Jesus wouldn't have lasted three years in public ministry. He fended off annihilators by telling stories. Detractors couldn't pin him down for heresy because stories move on differing levels of meaning. Appealing to the imagination leaves kaleidoscopic impressions, hints, and adventures to explore. A story with merit doesn't dispense moralistic bromides. It suffuses our souls and alerts our minds to insights we may have overlooked or previously rejected.

Nigel Forde described the power drama creates: "Theatre does not browbeat a man into accepting a rule or message written in flaming letters on stone. Rather, it opens his eyes and enlarges his sympathies. If it is written on anything, it is written in water; it soaks in and nourishes the parts that otherwise would not be reached."

When listeners encounter Thomas Jefferson through my dramatic presentations, they aren't pounded with a verbal cudgel to learn lessons. His values seep into their minds, boldly residing deep within memory. Storytelling doesn't bash us trite plots. We willingly take the dramatic bait because we are led to creative adventures taking us where we haven't previously gone.

What's a speaker's worst blunder? Sheer dullness.

David McCullough tells of historian Barbara Tuchman's remedy to cure students who think history is a boring recital of dates and details buried in the past. "There's no trick in interesting young people in history," she reminds us. "All you have to do is tell stories."

Stories enchant. They amuse. Tales expose charlatans who act like shooting stars. They make a grand first impression but peter out. Meanwhile, common folk using uncommon honesty plod on, persevering against unfair odds. Stories showcase heartbreak. They introduce us to heroes who bounce back from failure.

Life's often a tough slog. It's not candied with easy paths. We need stamina to go on. When we mesh our stories with heroines who have gone before, we gain gumption. We find perspectives for handling our predicament. Learning we aren't alone in the struggle doesn't make problems disappear, but they get lighter when others carry them too.

What remedy did Winston Churchill prescribe for shortsighted people who skirt history? "The longer you look back," taught Churchill, "the farther you can see forward."

"We live in the most thoughtless of ages," he observed. "Every day headlines and short views. I have tried to drag history up a little nearer to our own times in case it should be a guide in present difficulties."