Why Parables?

The strategy of story

When someone says “parable,” what do you think? More specifically, if someone mentions the parables of Jesus, what comes to mind?

Stories to entertain the kids in the side rooms while their parents try to pay attention up front? The phrase “earthly stories with a heavenly meaning”? How about “simple illustrations that reveal profound truths”?

Me? I think, “Jesus’ favorite way to describe the kingdom of God.”

Let’s consider them all.

Stories for kids?

Hardly.

Jesus’ parables were definitely good stories, but they were jam-packed with life-changing truth. And while kids can certainly glean from His parables, He was targeting all with childlike faith. Or those too hardened to learn.

Entertaining? They might have held His audience’s attention, but they were far from easy listening. They were confusing riddles with no apparent answer.

Earthly stories with a heavenly meaning.

Sounds wise, but slightly misses the mark. Yes, Jesus’ parables were stories about the things of earth— farming, taxes, parties — but their focus wasn’t on “that place we go when we die.” Most were about heaven’s workings on earth, right here, right now — something we know little about.

Jesus told parables to fix that.

Simple illustrations to reveal profound truths

Now we’re getting somewhere.

The illustrations may be simple, but their powerful truths aren’t easily discerned. They’re often hidden; we have to hunt for them. Only the hungry will.

Most likely, seekers will have to take off the lenses they’ve been using to see something profound.

Jesus’ favorite way to describe the kingdom of God

Of all of Jesus’ teaching, none was more important than those that began, “The kingdom of God is like…”

When He said that, you could expect a parable. Not a get-out-your-pen-and-paper teaching, but a story.

Yet a parable goes beyond a story. Parables are far from predictable. The punchline often pokes. The “end of the story” isn’t meant to be the end.

The subject of Jesus’ parables wasn’t new; the prophets had been speaking of God’s kingdom since the time of Isaiah (Isaiah 9:7).

But now, by presenting parables, Jesus was shining a light on things that were strangely dim, digging up what long had been buried, exposing what was covered by the shroud of religion.

Yet, He told parables He knew most wouldn’t understand. Sometimes, even His disciples needed Him to break it down.

When people came to Him seeking answers, His parables often left them with even more questions. When He was confronted by his adversaries, He didn’t explain Himself, but challenged them with parables.

When the end of one of Jesus’ parables, some were satisfied with the story, some were scratching their heads, and some were downright angry.

So why parables?

Because parables present themselves as stories. And who doesn’t love a good story?

Stories capture your attention. I would rather listen to a story than a lecture any time. A lecture confronts what I already know; I’m expected to believe what the lecturer says. But when I listen to a story, there’s no pressure for me to learn. I get to hear about someone else’s experience, and I get to choose if I care.

Stories hold your attention. Ever been watching a great movie, it’s getting late, you should be in bed, but you just can’t leave until that last line? Even if the plot isn’t going your way, you’re going to stay there, glued to the screen, hoping it will turn around. Like that, a parable will keep your attention until its end, even if you don’t like what you hear.

Stories involve your imagination. A good story invites you in. My guess is, when you are reading a good story, you pick a character to identify with, someone to be your hero. Now, what if your character turns out to be the bad guy? You can put the book down, upset that the writer doesn’t think like you do, or totally entertained, laughing at yourself because you missed the clues.

That’s what Jesus was doing for his listeners when He told a parable. He was letting them decide who they were in the story and leaving them to make a judgment about themselves.

When listening to a sermon, we can so easily stay detached. We can put up the walls when the truth gets too near. Stories don’t threaten, don’t poke— they’re about someone else.

But when a story becomes a parable, you’ve gone beyond the page.

A parable is sneaky. Before you realize it, you’re immersed in it, surrounded by it. What began as a good story becomes an opportunity to be offended or to open the door to change.

You get to choose.

“He who has ears, let him hear.” (Matthew 11:15, ESV)