The Power Of The Story
Written by Sarah Wittmeyer
July 7, 2024 - Mark 6: 1-13
Finding the Extraordinary in the Ordinary
The lectionary for this week included this passage in Mark that my kids read for us. I found it so powerful. Let me read the last few sentences again.
“Then they were on the road. They preached with joyful urgency that life can be radically different; right and left they sent the demons packing; they brought wellness to the sick, anointing their bodies, healing their spirits.”
The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines preaching as: to deliver a sermon, OR to urge acceptance or abandonment of an idea or course of action. I have never preached in the first sense before, as in delivering a sermon in a church setting (except one time in a homiletics class long ago when I was attending Bible school). But I have preached in the second sense (to urge acceptance or abandonment of an idea or course of action) many times as a wife (urging acceptance or abandonment of a particular plan), as a mother (urging a course of action), as a child (speaking to my parents about a particular idea, especially as an adult child to aging parents), as a sister, and even as a friend. We may all have ideas of when we were seeking to sway another person to our own way of thinking. Sometimes we might even say “Preach it!” in response to someone’s impassioned argument.
When we think we have the answer and know what is best, it is not hard to preach. I love the idea that the disciples preached with joyful urgency. Life can be different than what it is. We can help. We have the answer. We can bring you wellness, both for your bodies and for your spirits. They were enthusiastic. They were bringing the good news about Jesus, the Messiah, the One Who could perform miracles, heal people, and cast out demons.
One of the nursing phenomena that I am interested in and that I attempt to teach to my home health nursing students is the therapeutic relationship between the nurse and the patient at home. It is not an easy concept to teach. How does the nurse enter the patient’s home, respectfully, and offer services, skills, and knowledge while still honoring the patient’s current beliefs and lifestyle choices which may sometimes actually be the cause of their illness? The nurse is in the patient’s territory, the patient’s own inner sanctuary, the place where the patient has the last say, the place where the patient lives. This is not the hospital. This is not an acute care setting where the nurse SAYS and the patient DOES because they have no choice. “Here you go, it’s time to take your medicine” Or “The cafeteria will be providing you this particular sodium-restricted diet” Or “I’m going to be changing your dressing now”.
No, in the home, we give advice, suggestions, maybe it could even be said that sometimes we preach what may be (in our minds anyway) the best course of action. It is completely up to the patient to follow this advice or to let it slide. “It would be a good idea if you took this medicine twice a day because we have seen this to be very effective in killing the organism that is causing your infection.” OR “Research has shown that if you keep this wound clean and dry and change your dressing every day, you have a better chance of healing. I will show you (or your caregiver) how to do this.” OR “Make sure you walk around frequently throughout the day if you can and raise your feet up when you are sitting. This will help keep your ankles from swelling and increase your circulation.” All good ideas and suggestions, even research-based and proven. But as nurses, we cannot make it happen. Only the patient can do that.
One of the psychological terms for this concept is locus of control. In the hospital, patient care is very much based on external locus of control (the system is set up that the patient has very little choice). In the home, the best way for the patient to be successful is if they switch to an internal locus of control. They have to make choices. They have to decide for themselves if they are going to follow through on all those instructions. The nurse offers the patient options, knowledge, and rationale, all the while being sensitive to the patient’s abilities and capacity, but leaves that power, that locus of control in the patient’s hands. Ultimately it is up to the patient to put their newly learned knowledge into practice. This can also be called agency or self-definition.
I think that is the case with religion or spiritual teaching as well. The Brethren say, “There is no force in religion.” In the Scripture we read today, Jesus says “If you are not welcome, not listened to, quietly withdraw. Don’t make a scene. Shrug your shoulders and be on your way.” We can tell our stories, we can share what we have learned about living a life of faith in God. We can describe ways we have been healed, ways we have experienced joy and wellness through following the teachings of Jesus. We can share the times in our lives when we have felt that surely the particular series of events we experienced can only be explained by the moving and direction of a Power greater than ourselves. But it is up to those hearing our stories to respond, to disagree, to act, to embrace, to follow, or to ignore—that is not up to us. We all have agency and choice—those who share the story… and those who hear the story.
Although there is no force in religion, I do believe there is a quiet strength and confidence evident in the lives of those who have lived by faith in God that is very attractive. That faith we currently hold may draw others to God simply as they watch us live our lives. Peter wrote to those he called “the elect exiles” in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia to always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asked them the reason for the hope that was in them; yet do it with gentleness and respect (my paraphrase), he said. Always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asks you the reason for the hope that is in you. I like that. What would you say if someone asked you that? Or maybe another question is, do I live my life in such a way that people want to know what is the reason for the hope that is in me? Does my life seem different somehow, faith-filled?
One of the joys of being part of the Gifted Hands and Sacred Stories group is being able to hear each other’s stories. I believe that everyone has a story and everyone’s story is sacred. Your story is unique to you. One of the things I find so interesting is that almost every woman starts their story by saying it is not unique or special or grand or unusual. And then they proceed to share lessons they have learned, difficult situations they have endured, or meaningful ways God has met them in their struggles. Or sometimes the ordinary way in which they have lived their lives speaks to us as being extraordinary. We talk about God moments, or God winks, those times when we are extra- conscious of the moving of the Spirit of God. G.K. Chesterton said the most extraordinary thing in the world is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman and their ordinary children.
Sharing our stories with others (no matter how non earth shattering you may think they are) builds relationships. It builds up the community of faith. It gives us more reason to hope in the God Who has worked in others’ lives. As we live our lives together, our individual stories become OUR story, a collective story.
I once told a friend that I wanted to be the type of Christian that would thrive on a remote island, just me and God, all alone. That would be all I would need. She looked at me quizzically and said “I don’t know, Sarah. What about your brothers and sisters in Christ—do you not need them?” Although I do still think that my internal private relationship with God, that faith in Him that buoys me and steadies me and guides me, is supremely important, I also now realize that, yes, I do need my community of faith. I do not live well alone. And just as I need you (my brothers and sisters), you all (yes, you are very much a part of my community of faith) need me.
I heard Joanna Gaines (famous for the show Fixer Upper) say once “The world needs who you were meant to be.” This means two things to me. The world needs me. And I need to live into the purpose for which I was created. We need to be who we were meant to be (not just live on our own little islands) and that role we play is important to our entire community, maybe even to the whole world.
I want to close with a story about voice. Sometimes it is really hard to use our voice. Sometimes we use our voice too much. Sometimes our voice is not heard. And sometimes we would just prefer to be quiet. But using our voice is part of telling our stories. It is part of agency, part of internal locus of control, of becoming a defined genuine solid self.
It was a hot summer day when our kids were young. I somehow had the brilliant idea to make water balloons and add them to the trampoline enclosure while the kids were jumping. And it turned out to be a real hoot. You can just picture it, right? Brightly colored water filled balloons bobbing up and down, kids shrieking with delight, occasionally getting drenched with a burst of water as they popped one after the other. I walked away thinking I was such a great creative mom, giving her children the joys of a well-played childhood. Well, what I didn’t think about was how slippery that trampoline then became. And how dangerous that actually was with four little wet children of various sizes bouncing around on top of each other. Before I knew it, I heard the scream, the scream that was not joy, nor was it anger, not frustration or any of those other types of ordinary screams. It was the scream of shock, fear, pain, distress. That is the scream that sends any parent (or perhaps anyone within hearing distance) running to see what happened. It was four-year-old Amity, using her voice. As she dragged her body to the edge of the enclosure, trying to get away from the chaos, I knew something was really wrong. I scooped her up and tried to figure out what body part was injured. I had to take her upstairs and give her a bath before she calmed down enough to show me just what hurt. It was her leg. She would not put any weight on it. I thought maybe it was just a sprain and maybe we could just wait and see but when she was lying on the couch, teeth chattering, trying to talk to me, Jay said “Nope that’s shock, we better take her in.” Sure enough the x-ray tech showed me the clear break in her tibia, right below her knee cap. They splinted it and sent us home with a referral to see the orthopedist on call the next day, after the swelling went down. After a long night of little sleep, I showed up at the doctor’s office the next day with my distressed daughter, the one who not only used her voice to let me know when the accident happened but also all through the night to let me know she was not comfortable. Strangely, when the very well-trained and highly recommended doctor looked at Amity’s x-ray, he said he didn’t think the leg was broken. Maybe a tiny hairline fracture around the ankle. But just to be sure, he would put her in a short leg cast for several weeks. My jaw dropped open. I had to politely and rather gingerly ask him to scroll up on the x-ray. When he saw that he had missed the complete break of the tibia, he rather roughly said, “Oh, ok, we’ll put her in full leg cast, from toe to hip.” I’m not sure if it was because he felt embarrassed or because he truly believed this, but when I then proceeded to ask for not just the full leg cast but also for something a little stronger for pain, other than Tylenol, (“she’s been screaming all night long, sir”), he said “Oh, she doesn’t have any pain. That’s just a learned response.” Again, my jaw dropped open (at least it did in my head). But I lost out on that one. Amity managed to survive on Tylenol alone.
But why do I tell this story? The impact of voice. Amity’s—in communicating her needs. Mine—in advocating for my daughter. The doctor’s—in diagnosing and treating. My point is this: We can all live our own experiences, but we need voice, agency, self-definition, an internal perspective and processing in order to share those experiences.
There is so much more to voice, in my opinion, than just the spoken word. We can share stories in many many other forms….like music, plays, books, art, and on and on…… but that is a topic for another day.
What is your story? How are you living your life? In a way that others notice and say, “Hey, I noticed this and this about you—why did you do that?” OR “What floats your boat? What’s your reason to live?” Can you preach with joyful urgency that life with Jesus can be radically different? How will you use your voice this week to share your story?
