I am often at a loss for words when people ask me what I think. To me, thinking—making clear and linear progress through my mental swamp—is drudgery that I perform only when it is necessary. But if someone says, “Tell me a story,” I am in my element. Psalm 40 tells a familiar story: “I waited for the Lord, and he heard me; he drew me up from the desolate pit and put a new song in my mouth; he gave me an open ear and a mouth to praise.” And while my response to this gift is never what it should be, I am often able to fulfill a part of it, telling the glad news of deliverance “in the great congregation” and not hiding it away in my heart. As a writer I have devoted my life to fulfilling the storyteller’s vocation.