Communicating for a Change Part 5

"I did?"

"Uh-huh. And it would help every communicator to remember it."

"I'm guessing it wasn't about the b.u.mp on my head."

"Not directly. And, well, I am sorry about that part of it. It wasn't supposed to happen quite like that. I was just trying to make a memorable point."

Ray admitted that his head was fine and that whatever Will's point was, he was sure he'd never forget it.

Will continued. "A few minutes ago you pointed out that the reason I didn't hit my head on that sharp turn was because I knew where we were going. I was ready for it. As a truck drivera"or a driver of any kind, for that mattera"there will always be times when people follow us. Sometimes they're following us on purpose to get somewhere, and sometimes they just happen to be behind us on the road. Either way, these folks have no idea when we're about to turn or change directions. It's up to us to stay aware of that."

"Okay," Ray replied, "then what are you supposed to do?"

"I'll send that question right back to you. What do you do when someone is following you and you're about to make a turn?"

"Use my turn signals. And then I slow down, glancing in my rearview mirror to make sure they're still with me."

"That's exactly right, Ray," Will said with a smile. "Part of keeping your audience engaged is taking it slow in the turns."

"To be honest, that's what went through my mind just after my head hit your window. Why didn't he slow down and let me know he was turning? "

"Right. Good question. Now bring it over into the realm of speaking and preaching. As a communicator, you're the only one in the room who knows in advance where you're going on the journey. You're the leader and everyone looks to you for the signals. Remember, Ray, when you put together a sermon you're really mapping out the journeya"and every journey has twists and turns. But it also has mile markers to indicate where the turns need to happen. These are the points of transition, from ME to WE, and WE to G.o.d, and so on in the message map.

"In a sermon, you and I call these transitions, in which we move from one aspect of the message to another. When you come to one of these points you have the option of taking an abrupt turn like I did earlier, or of giving your listeners verbal and nonverbal clues that a transition is coming."

"And if my experience is any indicator, it's probably a good idea to let them know what's coming." Ray rubbed the sore spot on his head.

"It could've been worse," Will said. "I've seen some guys make such hard turns in a message that they threw people right out the door and they never came back."

"What are the signals, Will? Should I install blinkers on my pulpit?"

"If you're still using a pulpit, you might need to."

"Do you have something against pulpits?"

"No, not really, I a Okay, I do have something against them. I think they have the tendency to isolate the communicator from the audiencea"and they limit your ability to use the s.p.a.ce to your advantage."

"What s.p.a.ce?"

"Exactly!" Will said. "The pulpit usually takes up all the s.p.a.ce on the platform, and you have no room to move around. Physical, nonverbal cues can be useful indicators to people that you are transitioning. You can move to a certain spot and let it represent a new idea. If you spend all of your time standing behind a pulpit looking down at notes, you lose that abilitya"and you forfeit that option."

"Which goes back to Internalize the Message," Ray offered.

"You're exactly right. But what good does it do to internalize a message and then hide behind a pulpit?"

"I guess I never thought of it as hiding."

"No," Will said, "but you have to admit, it does give the impression that you're separated from the people. These are just the nonverbal indicators. More important are the verbal clues we give people to let them know it's time to transition. In the old days guys would just say, *The second point is a ,' as if they were reading a term paper."

Ray smiled, not wanting to tell Will that the "old days" were last week's sermon. Ray remembered clicking quickly through four points in his message. He hadn't considered transitions all that important. That's what he'd always thought fill-in-the-blank sermon notes were for.

"Okay, no blinkers on the pulpit. And no pulpit! What are the best ways to give a verbal indication?" Ray asked.

"You want to carefully craft a transitional statement to get you from one section of your map to another," Will replied.

"Give me an example."

"Well, if I'm moving from the WE section to the G.o.d section, I may say something like, *Isn't it great to know that even though we all face this issue, G.o.d's Word has something to say about it?' That's pretty simple, and I would usually do more. But at least I've tied the tension to the next section in the Scripture."

Ray took all of this in. How many times have I knocked heads against windows or possibly thrown people right out of the sanctuary? Truth be told, though, the idea of throwing a few people out of the sanctuary didn't sound all that bad.

"You know, Ray, this also applies to the entire worship service. I can't tell you how many services I've been to where the music, the announcements, the message, and the other elements seem disjointed. A little attention to transitional statements or music that's chosen because of what came before or after can make the service feel more like a moment to be experienced, instead of various moments to be endured."

Ray sat back in the comfortable bucket seat and thought. "So let me see if I have this," he finally said. "If you use your turn signals, you'll make transitions that will take people to the next mile marker on the journey, instead of leaving them on the side of the road. And that will help me keep my audience engaged. Does that sound about right?"

"Sounds good to me," Will said. "And if this hotel is okay with you then this is a good place to stop for the night."

Ray and Will checked in and, before heading off to his room, Will shouted back to Ray, "Breakfast is at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Don't be late."

Will's tone momentarily made Ray consider sleeping in the cab of the truck but in a matter of moments Ray was lying in a comfortable bed in room 108. He picked up the phone and called Sally to fill her in on his amazing journey. He told her all about Will and the seven imperativesa"or at least the five he knew at this point. He a.s.sured her that he would be home tomorrow, but in the back of his mind he wasn't all that certain. After the second round of "good night" and "I love you," Ray set the alarm and fell asleep.

8.

SHOW ME SOME IDENTIFICATION.

Ray slept better than he had in a long time. Maybe there is light at the end of this preaching tunnel. He and Will were on the road in no time at all and in search of breakfast. The drive-through service was fast and friendly and once again they were on their way.

"How's the coffee?" Will asked. Ray nodded approvingly. "Those drive-through windows are the best thing that ever happened to hauling. You can make up a lot of time when you don't have to stop."

"Speaking of stopping, Will, we're five imperatives down and two to go, so don't stop now."

"Don't you want to finish your breakfast first?"

"I'm a mult.i.tasker."

"Well, Ray, the next imperative is one that you shouldn't have a problem with a "

"Well it's about time!" Ray interrupted.

"You shouldn't, but you do."

"Oh great."

"Ray, do you see that truck over there?" Will pointed at a huge rig on the northbound side of the interstate.

Ray looked across the median and saw the large white eighteen-wheeler pulling a trailer. "Yeah, it's hard to miss something that big."

"That's a Peterbilt 379 EXHD. Just a minute ago we pa.s.sed a Volvo WG64T and, before that, a Mack CH6113a"

"Ray interrupted again, "So is this imperative some kind of "Rainman" gift for identifying big rigs?"

Will laughed. "No, that's not it. But that is a good example of what I'm talking about."

"An example of what?"

"Imperative number six is Find Your Voice," Will said. "For forty years I was a Kenworth man. I drove a lot of different models in a lot of different colors, but they were all Kenworths. And as a Kenworth man, I wouldn't consider driving a Mack or a Volvoa"or any other truck for that matter. Nothing wrong with those other rigs. In fact, some of them had some nice features. It's just that, I was a Kenworth man and that's the way it was."

"You sound like some of my NASCAR friends who argue over Ford versus Chevy."

"Same thing. A Chevy man wouldn't be caught dead in a Ford, and vice versa."

"I see."

"Really?"

"No, I'm lying. I don't have a clue what this has to do with anything, but it's interestinga"in a primal, truck driver sort of way. Although, for some reason, I feel like I should be eating some red meat with my fingers."

Will laughed. "There it is again."

Ray looked up. "What, another truck?"

"No, Ray, your sense of humor. You're really a funny guy. Part of your voice is your humor. The problem is, I never knew that about you."

Ray gave Will a confused look. "Maybe I'm missing something, but didn't we just meet yesterday?"

"Not really." Once again Will reached over and opened the glove box on the dashboard. He reached in and grabbed a handful of ca.s.settes. "You forget, Ray, that I've known you a lot longer than you've known me."

"Yeah, Will, but those aren't me; those are my sermons." As the words came out of his mouth, Ray realized what he was saying. "I mean, those are a part of me, of course, it's just that a what I'm saying is that listening to a sermon isn't like talking to a person."

"If you weren't talking to people, just who or what were you talking to?"

"Of course I was talking to people. But it's preaching a you know," Ray was struggling to explain something that he thought was universally understood.

"You weren't talking to people, Ray. You were talking at people. And there's a big difference." Will seemed intent on the road ahead, obviously avoiding eye contact. "What's worse is that it's not even you talking at the people. It's some other guy who's very seriousa"all businessa"and has no sense of humor at all. Shoot, Ray, your voice is even different. I can't tell you how pleasantly surprised I was when I met you. After listening to your messages, I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend a couple of hours with you, much less a couple of days."

Ray's mind was spinning. When Will decides to back up his truck and dump it, he doesn't hold back. Could all of this be true? Have I been talking at people? Of course I was talking at people. I was preaching! Preachers talk at people. That's what they do. They have for centuries. It's the natural order of things, and who is this truck driver who thinks he can mess with that? Ray was having an argument with himself, and doing quite well until Will broke in.

"Ray? You still with me?"

"I dunno, Will. I think I am buta"this could be someone else speaking and I only think I'm here." Obviously Ray's feelings were still hurt.

"Look, I told you some of this wasn't gonna be easy."

"I thought you meant learning some kind of new study technique, not learning to be someone I'm not."

"That's just it, Raya"you've already learned to be someone you're not! I want you to be who you are. I want you to drive the truck you were born to drive; to Find Your Voice. I want you to stand up in front of your people and be YOU. It's as simple as that. You're a funny man. You're warm and friendly with an amazingly quick wit. You obviously care a great deal for people, and I know you have a lot to offer."

Ray wasn't sure if a hug was coming, but at the moment he was grateful for the console between him and Will. He knew Will was right. The problem was, he didn't know what to do about it. He had come to Will to find out what to do, and now the answer was to be himself?

"Wait a minute," Ray said, "if I'm supposed to be me, why am I here learning how you communicate?"

"That's a valid question. My goal wasn't to give you a speaking style or for you to become a clone of me. My goal was to give you a few things that will allow you to be who you are when you communicate. That's the beauty of taking people on a journey instead of giving them a sermon."

"Yeah. Okay. I get it a I guess."

"Do you remember earlier when you told me about your vacation?" Ray nodded. "That was a storya"and a good one. You told it well. It was interesting and funny and even pretty touching in places. You held my attention the whole time. You do know how to tell a good story, Ray. All you have to do is stand up and tell a story as yourself. Most of the time you seem to be preaching in the third person. You talk about things that happen to other people and things other people have said. That's one of the problems when people ma.n.u.script a message: It sounds like they're reading something because, well, they are reading something. Your congregation needs to hear you talk to them."

"I know I keep asking the same question, but how, Will?"

"You and I have sat in this truck for the past two days and carried on a conversation. You need to carry on a conversation with your people. You need to pull up a chair and discuss the various topics that you want to cover."

"But conversations are two-way," Ray pushed back. "Am I supposed to open up the floor for questions and comments?"

"Well, that would certainly be engaging," Will said, "but I wouldn't recommend it. You can carry on a conversation by asking the questions your audience would ask and then answering them. It's not that you ask them to talk; it's that you acknowledge they're there. We've covered this under ME-WE-G.o.d-YOU-WE. I just want you to believe that you can follow that map as yourself, not as me or as any other communicator."

"Another communicator?" Ray asked.

"Ray, one of the problems that a lot of communicators have is that they listen to the same preachers all the time. They have their favorites and listen to them so much that they begin to sound like thema"Chuck Swindoll, Charles Stanley, Rob Bella"you name it. The truth is, you need to listen to a lot of different men and women. Not only to be exposed to different ideas, but so you won't be overly influenced by one particular style. Remember, the goal is to be you up there."

Will paused, glancing over at the young pastor. "However, there is one communicator that I want you to listen to as much as possible."

Ray's mind quickly raced through the pantheon of golden-throated orators. Who could he mean? Was there one example out there for all to follow?

"The communicator that you must listen to is you," Will said.

Pete put you up to this, Ray thought, as he remembered the admonishment to Work on It by listening to his own messages.

Will continued. "You're going to have to listen to every message. And you have to listen critically and carefully until you find your voice."

"When you say my voice, you mean my style?"

"I mean, until you and everyone else listening recognizes that you are you. And then once you find it, you have to keep listening to make sure you don't lose it. Also, if you can set up a video camera, that's even better. You'd be surprised how much you can learn by watching yourself speak."

"I just don't know, Will. I agree with you on this stuff, I just a I just don't know how to start. I've been doing this so long that I don't know if I even can change."

"I don't want to sound like a broken record here, but you change every Sunday when you walk onto that platform. You enter the church as you, and then when you get behind your pulpit you're a someone else. I'm trying to get you not to change. I'm trying to get you to stay you. But I know what you mean about getting started. I can give you something to try, but it's pretty radical."

"More radical than flying a thousand miles to learn to preach from a truck driver?"

"Maybe. I want you to close your eyes and think about the one spot on earth where you're most comfortable. The spot where you are most able to be you."

Ray closed his eyes. "I don't know. I guess it would be a swing in my backyard that my wife and I sit in."