by Felix Arellano on May 05, 2025
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“Every organization needs two kinds of storytellers: anchor storytellers and kite storytellers.”
I leaned forward as Leslie Mack spoke to an attentive audience during her keynote on the power of storytelling. Truth be told, she had me at story. Pastor Dick Foth’s influence made me keenly aware of the power of storytelling, and I was eager to hear what Leslie might add to the conversation.
“Anchor storytellers in an organization help us remember,” she said. “They tell stories about our history and remind us of God’s goodness and faithfulness. Kite storytellers, on the other hand, help us reimagine. They look to the future and ask, What could God be asking us to do? How can we continue our mission and express it in new ways?”
Tethered to the anchor of our history and mission, kite storytellers challenge us to dream about what God might do next—rooted in what He’s already done.
Wisdom in Stories
I leaned back in my chair after that epic download of insight and thought to myself, “I needed to hear that.” The anecdote felt acute—like soul medicine—and gave me language for something I’d experienced just that week. I realized another layer to the power of story: stories don’t just inspire; they guide. When tethered to an anchor story, you can imagine possibilities as you navigate a situation unfolding in real time.
In one of our final meetings with Pastor Dary, we spent time listening to stories that shaped both his ministry and the culture of Timberline Church. He shared a remarkable account of a young man’s unlikely—but profound—conversion. On a bet, this foul-mouthed guy walked into Timberline Church (then located on Lemay Avenue) and took a seat on one of the old-fashioned red pews near the front. He was covered in tattoos—every visible patch of skin inked, many of them crude.
You can only imagine how someone like that might be received walking into a church. But Timberline is a special place. Pastor Dary shared how a longtime Timberliner went out of their way to sit right next to this rough-edged newcomer and, with the warmest of greetings, said, “Well hello there! I don’t think I’ve met you yet!”
That simple, sincere welcome began to melt the hardness around this man’s heart. In a short time, God worked a life-changing miracle in him—and Pastor Dary had the privilege of baptizing him.
Ministry didn’t begin with a service or a sermon. It began with hospitality.
While others might’ve been tempted to recoil at his appearance, one Timberliner made all the difference—with a greeting.
Pastor Dary had given us an anchor story—one that would help me find the wisdom I needed just four days later, when history would repeat itself.
Kevin and Jenny walked through the main doors of Timberline Church on a Saturday evening. They were hard to miss. Kevin had tattoos covering every inch of his face. Jenny, while free from ink, wore the weary evidence of a hard life.
Just like in Dary’s story, we watched the “There you are!” spirit of Timberline come alive again. A warm-hearted Timberliner took the initiative to greet them and guide them to our child dedication meeting.
One of my favorite questions to ask in these gatherings is simply, “What’s your story?” Jenny paused. “Do you promise not to judge me?”
My heart ached that she even had to ask.
“I promise not to judge you if you don’t judge me,” I replied with an attempt at wit. “Sound fair?”
She smiled and began.
I sat at the table, riveted. She and Kevin spoke of life on the streets, addiction, survival, faith, and finally—finding each other. Despite the rough edges in their past, what caught my attention was the unmistakable light in their eyes. I knew I was sitting with two new creations in Christ.
Their voices were humble. Their eyes were bright. God had done something deep and real in them. Their bodies still bore the marks of past addiction and hardship, but their spirits radiated redemption.
And then—there was Natalie.
Their eight-month-old daughter had the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Her smooth, glowing skin stood in contrast to the tattered arms that held her. But those arms held her firmly. Lovingly. With purpose.
She was the embodiment of new life—hope made flesh.
As the couple shared, I couldn’t shake Jenny’s question. I wanted her to know, truly know, she had found a safe place here. A spiritual home. A few Timberliners came to mind—people who had walked a similar road and could say with confidence, “You’re not alone.” Before I could act on that thought, Brea—our co-Early Childhood Director—discreetly slipped out and returned with Juanita.
Juanita serves on our childcare team and has an incredible story of her own. The dynamic in the room shifted immediately when she joined the table. With ease and empathy, she asked questions I never would have known to ask—questions born from experience and grit. She spoke with a street-smart wisdom and a spiritual authority rooted in grace.
Contact info was exchanged. Hugs were shared. And with our original script long gone, we formed an impromptu prayer circle and blessed this young family.
In that moment, our team worked together—tethered to our history—to imagine what could be.
Pastor Dary’s anchor story had grounded me with perspective. It helped me see, in real time, how God was inviting us to co-author a new story for this couple. Their story. Our story. God’s story.
And while people packed the auditorium that weekend for Pastor Dary and Bonnie’s last Sunday before retirement and to celebrate their legacy, I found myself in a quiet children’s classroom, witnessing the beginning of a brand-new chapter for a new Timberline family.
Evidence that the story isn’t over.
Our future soars like a kite in the wind—tethered to the stories of what God has already done. Stories give us wisdom to navigate what can be, rooted in what has been.
These stories—of welcome, of redemption, of new beginnings—aren’t just memories.
They’re invitations.
To live with eyes wide open.
To greet others with “There you are!”
And to believe that God is still building His church—one story, one soul at a time.
Note: Names of the family members were changed to honor their privacy.
