Act I: Fall
Interest from Urgency
Wouldn’t you love to have the job of a flight attendant, giving the pre-flight emergency instructions to a plane full of passengers who have heard them a hundred times before? Some look politely forward as if they are interested, but the blank glaze over their eyes tells you they are not. Others are engrossed in the novel they started reading in the waiting area. Still others are already sleeping with noise-cancelling headphones in place, just to be sure they don’t hear a word you say. The only passengers listening are the first-time flyers and those with an overwhelming fear of flying.
Why is it that, regardless of the lengths to which airlines go to communicate this very important information, most people just don’t listen? I suspect it’s because no one really expects that the information is going to be needed. There is no sense of urgency. The flight attendant’s speech is just a routine that must be followed so that we can get on with our flight.
If you’ve done much preaching, this sensation might seem all too familiar. Week by week you present a message that you know to be of great importance to your congregation, but in your quiet moments you wonder how many people are even listening. You may be tempted to try to meet this challenge like the airlines, with high-tech bells and whistles, or a higher entertainment value in the message. All of this is to no avail because you can’t hold interest indefinitely with technique alone. Real interest only comes from urgency.
Imagine for a moment that you are on a trans-Atlantic flight that has been moving along smoothly for a couple of hours, when suddenly a loud “BOOM!” is heard from the left wing. The plane shudders and lurches downward in a steep dive. Alarms sound, the overhead bins fly open, oxygen masks drop, people scream, and the flight attendant comes on to talk about water landings. How attentive do you think the passengers will be to the message? Probably a lot more attentive than they were two hours ago in the pre-flight instructions! Why? Because they now find themselves in the midst of a story in which the information coming over the PA system could mean the difference between life and death.
This is the job of Act I in a narrative sermon: to create interest through urgency by placing us in a story where the message really matters. How do you accomplish this? Here are four steps for stirring interest through urgency.
Establish equilibrium: “Once upon a time …”
The first task of any story is to introduce the characters and the setting. Whether in the simple description of a children’s tale (“Once upon a time there were three bears …”), or in the glimpses into the protagonist’s daily life while the opening movie credits roll, or in the opening scenes of Genesis where a good God creates a good world and places his beloved humans in a wonderful garden, the setting is always the perfect picture of balance and serenity. But the fact that the story is being told implies that this equilibrium is vulnerable. Goldilocks is about to invade the space of the three bears. The day that the protagonist faces is going to be something very different from what they expect. The serenity of the garden will be marred by sin. A fall is on the way.
The first moment of a narrative sermon has the same task. Whether you begin with the world of your hearers or with the world of the text, you will want to present the setting in such a way that a delicate equilibrium is established. But the presence of the main characters in a story means that their life is about to be tested, and their vulnerabilities exposed. The fact that your hearers are sitting in church, listening to a sermon, should mean that their testing and exposure are just as inevitable. You have studied the Scriptures and discovered how a particular passage addresses the fallen condition of your hearers. The opening of your sermon should draw them in and set them up for the challenge to come.
Perhaps you will state a commonly held belief in the form of a popular proverb (“God helps those who help themselves”), or a statement of a common perception (“Some people are just lost causes—not cut out for Christianity”). You might present a superficial interpretation of a well-known verse (“’Ask and you shall receive’ … Isn’t that great, anything you want, just ask and God will give it to you!”). Or you might voice a common frustration, born out of experience (“Sometimes it just seems that God doesn’t care”). Any of these may be augmented by stories or arguments that support the conclusion. But the fact that they are voiced here in the beginning of the sermon indicates that they are about to be challenged.
This opening movement of the sermon may not consist of more than a few lines, but when it is done well, it enhances the impact of the movement that is to come ….
Upset the equilibrium: “And then one day …”
A story doesn’t live by setting and characters alone. Sooner rather than later, Act I must introduce a complication, a twist, a problem. Screenwriters call this complication the “Inciting Incident.” It exposes the characters’ vulnerabilities by throwing their life out of balance in some way, awakening in them a desire to restore that balance by pursuing some object of desire and propelling them towards the goal of attaining it.
The Inciting Incident of a narrative sermon functions in a similar way. Very early in the first act, we want to raise a question or present a problem that brings the hidden vulnerabilities of our false assumptions to the forefront. In the process, we will launch our “human agenda” as a preferred path towards restoring comfort and balance.
How do you find the Inciting Incident? This is a fair question. Fiction writers think through all that they know of their characters’ lives and back-stories, searching for a moment that has within it the potential for conflict strong enough to launch and to carry the story.
The process for the sermon will be similar. You have gleaned your controlling idea from your study and reflection on your passage and gained a clear sense of the direction your sermon must go. Look for the point of tension between this message and the assumptions of your hearers that promises the greatest conflict for launching the sermon.
Where is the loudest dissonance, the point of greatest resistance? Look for a starting point that builds on the fiercest clash between the promises of God and perceived reality, between the words of the Bible and everyday life. Find the point of greatest discord between popular opinion and truth. Your point of departure may be the absurdity of our present understanding. Or it might be the statement within the text that raises the most eyebrows, either because it demands that which we do not want to give, or it hits us with a saying or claim that is hard to understand and even harder to accept. Much preaching seems to delay or avoid the hard places in the text or application. In narrative biblical exposition, these are the places to begin.
Explore the tension: “How hard can it be?”
If the Inciting Incident does its job well, it will effectively launch the action of the sermon. It is not enough to introduce a complication. We must respond to it. We must take the first steps toward trying to solve the problem. We must search for answers, beginning in the most obvious, easy-to-reach places. This initial effort to find solutions early in the sermon is what we might call “exploring the tension.”
The stories we find in Genesis 4-11 are analogous to this part of Act I. In Genesis 4, God has declared his initial judgment on Adam and Eve, but we have yet to see the full consequences of their sin. The story of Cain and Abel take us a step further, as sin leads to envy which leads to the fratricide. The story of the Noah and the flood demonstrate that the sinfulness of humanity is capable of leading us to the point of utter destruction in our rebellion against God. Finally, the story of Babel brings us full circle, revealing the very nature of our sin, whether personal and corporate. From the Eden to Babel, sin is always the attempt to usurp the place of God.
These stories not only explore the destructive essence of sin, but also the tension between God’s righteousness and his mercy. God pronounces judgment on Cain, but also gives him a mark for protection. He destroys the world by flood, but preserves one righteous family and a host of animals in the ark. He disperses the people of Babel and confuses their languages, but even this act is to prevent them from causing further harm, and in the very next chapter, he sets a plan in motion to bless “all the families of the earth,” reversing the curse of Babel.
Including a section that takes an initial look at the issue that has been raised enhances the inciting incident of a sermon and prepares the way to launch the quest.
Launch the Quest: “We’re on our way!”
Act I concludes by pointing in the general direction of resolution. In movies, the question of direction is an open one. Act I initiates a quest, but the story could go in any direction.
In this regard, narrative biblical exposition differs dramatically from other stories. The action launched by the inciting incident of the sermon must include a faithful, intentional and careful exploration of the biblical text. The question asked in Act I must be one that the Bible will answer before the end of the sermon. For this reason, “launching the quest” in the narrative sermon will always mean, “pointing to the Scriptures.” Our quest will be a journey into and through God’s word to final discovery and resolution.
The journey has begun, and we know we must not stop until we know the answer to the question—until ambiguity and complication are resolved and the conflict runs its course to dissolve into peace. Act I of the sermon is a promise that, before the sermon is over, a question that matters to the hearers will be answered, and we will understand the world differently from when we began.
