It was a cold, cloudy Sunday morning when I found a note laying on the edge of the church cemetery. Someone had scribbled a message on a half sheet of paper. The message read: "I am lonely and tired, my life is a mess -- is there any word of hope for me?" There was no signature and it was addressed to no one in particular. I remember wondering if the note was meant for me or if someone had just scribbled words and accidentally lost the note. Were these the words of someone grieving over the loss of a loved one or someone broken by life?

I have asked myself these same questions many times as I've stood before the congregation Sunday after Sunday. Each time the question comes to me; "Is there any word of hope for me?" That is the question facing all of us who dare proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The truth is there are many people who are asking the same question every Sunday, "Is there a word of hope for me?" They come to worship longing to hear a word of hope that will speak to their situation. They are lonely, tired and often scarred by life. Yet they come to church on Sunday hoping against hope that there will be a word spoken that will bring wholeness.

How do preachers communicate the message of hope to a broken world in a way that connects? One of the most powerful yet often overlooked avenues for communicating the hope of Christ is the use of metaphor in preaching. Perhaps preachers would do well to remember Aristotle's adage that the greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor.

A Collapsing Center

Have you ever imagined what Ezekiel might have felt as he heard God ask the question, "Can these bones live?" Perhaps he experienced a range of emotions that moved from fear to an overwhelming sense of awe. In half belief and half unbelief Ezekiel gave the only answer he could, "Lord, thou knowest."

Ezekiel's task to preach to a valley of dry bones is not as far removed as we might imagine. We are called to preach to a people in the midst of great change and brokenness. Every week someone comes to the church to ask the same question of the preacher, "Can these bones live? Can this marriage be saved? When will I get well? Will I get the promotion?" There is an undercurrent of uncertainty and fear that tugs at our lives.

David Aubrey described a prevailing sense of uncertainty that is characteristic of our times: "In short, deconstruction -- a feeling of the center collapsing will be what the Germans called the Zeitgeist (spirit of the time) of the 1990's."1 The collapsing of the center and its recurring aftershocks creates a spirit of fear and hopelessness for many. The crumbling of once secure institutions and the fast pace of change has created an atmosphere filled with anxiety and stress.

The effect of a collapsing center can be felt even in the church. The view from the pulpit is similar to the view Ezekiel had as he surveyed the valley of bones. Like Israel in Ezekiel's time, people today are faced with the breaking down of all that is familiar and faced with the challenges of finding their way in a strange new land. People react differently when faced with change and crisis. Some withdraw or retreat into the past, holding onto what they have been taught. The drastic change occurring in our time is threatening for some in the church. The move from belief to fanaticism can be traced in the world of religion.