Likely since the very beginning of oral communication, humankind has told stories to one another. It just seems natural to us to gather and hear others tell us tales or to pick up a book and read an entertaining yarn. Written stories known to us today go back as far as the epic of Gilgamesh. That tale was recorded somewhere around 2700 BC. Great stories and storytelling continue right to this very day. Consider this - you can’t hardly look at a newsfeed and not hear about what’s going on “Game of Thrones,” which, although known to most of us in video-form, is nothing more than a series of novels played out in front of our eyes.

And while stories are entertaining things, make no mistake about it, they can also be powerful. Stories can teach us. The best of them can help us see things about ourselves that psychologists and counselors never could.  

Interestingly, businesses have begun to capitalize on the power of narrative to convey ideas and meaning. In fact, tech companies, often the leading edge of things, are now commonly hiring Chief Storytelling Officers. These are people who narrate the rise of their companies and attach those stories to their company’s vision. But while the market seems to be onto something new, the fact of the matter is what they’re employing goes back thousands of generations.

That there are truths too deep for flowcharts or propositional logic, certainly wasn’t news to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. On many occasions Jesus sat with people and told them stories. Only we don’t call them stories, we call them parables. And in each one of them, Jesus manages to make his meaning rather clear.

Isn’t it interesting to note that we remember these stories far more easily than, let’s say, the material in Paul’s letters? That’s because, when we hear a story, a good one, we naturally imagine ourselves in it. Stories have the power to help us understand ourselves better as we relate to them. In fact, the greatest stories can even change us.

This morning, I read to you the parable of the Prodigal Son. I’m only going to read half of it, really. The other part I’ll save for another sermon. But now, I ask you to hear this story, finding yourself not just listening to it, but locating yourself within it.

“¹¹ And he said, “There was a man who had two sons. ¹² And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.’ And he divided his property between them. ¹³ Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in reckless living. ¹⁴ And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. ¹⁵ So he went and hired himself out to^[b] one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. ¹⁶ And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.

¹⁷ “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! ¹⁸ I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. ¹⁹ I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ ²⁰ And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. ²¹ And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’^[c] 22 But the father said to his servants,^[d] ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. ²³ And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. ²⁴ For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.