So—what’s YOUR story?


This question always leaves me a little queasy.  What about you?  I heard it just this week.  “I’d love to know your story.  I’ve been reading your blog, and I just look forward to hearing more of your story.”

I mentally paused—even if I verbally rambled.  Because to tell people our stories we have to be willing to share our junk.  And well, it’d take a whole village to pull all the junk out of my trunk.

I just want to talk about God. And the good.  But you know, we’ve got to uncover ALL of our story.  The good and the bad, so that God can cover them with his truths and his love.

There’s a bucket full of issues in mine, like abandonment, abuse, divorce, fears, faults, failures, and the ugly list goes on…but I can’t cross them off, because that’s where the beauty of God’s hand in my story can unfold—and be told.  And yours too.

It’s also probably no coincidence my husband and I have been asked to teach a preparing for marriage class this week.  “Christie,” he assures me and my quivering lip, “all we have to do is tell them our story.  That’ll eat up most of our time.”  While I’m thinking, “But it’ll eat up my stomach.”

Because I want to tell them how we met before 6th grade, and how we’ve been best friends since 8th grade when he flashed his baby blues.  I can easily tell them that.

I really want to tell them how we used to couples skate, as he rolled circles around the rink and my heart.  That’s true, too.  And then—I want to tell them that we cruised all the way down happily-ever-after lane ever since. But I can’t tell them that.  It’s not true.

I’ll stand there as a married leader.  As a leader of leaders.  And tell them what I don’t want to tell them.  How I took a detour.  And then crashed and burned into divorce, before I let Jesus pick me up, and set my foot upon a rock, before Damon placed this rock on my left hand.

And how my story—our story—is one of love and loss, and love again.  And of redemption and second chances.   How it’s a beautiful picture of God’s story in us. Maybe yours is too.

So I’ll tell them—even if I’d rather bury my head and my trunk in the sand. 

Again, it’s probably no coincidence this week I’ve led other women through the covered up stuff of Moses’ story.  How he murdered a man, and then buried his secrets and shame beneath sinking sand. And then he ran.  But what gets shoved down and covered up will eventually come up.

But in God—that’s not the full story.  He turned a murderer into a mouthpiece of righteousness.  Say Whaaat?  Yep.  But his past first had to be excavated, forgiven and redeemed, and then washed clean.

And then—check it out—he became best friends with God.  Almost seeing Him face-to-face on a mountain so he could share heart-to-heart and light up the people in the valley.

His sin and his past was history.  But his present and his future was HIStory.  God’s story.  And ours is too.

I know sometimes it hurts to tell the truth.  But more times—it heals. And what if your story is the greatest story—never told?  Or—what if—through your story others know God’s story of true love and loss, and then never-ending love from a cross?

I told you mine, now you go tell them yours.  I’m praying for you.  Will you pray for me too?  I’ll sure need them this Sunday.

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. Psalm 34:5 (NIV)

They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death. Revelation 12:7 (NIV)

For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)

Thanks for walking and reading along with me.  It would sure bless me if you’d subscribe to my weekly emailed blog posts, and I’ll bless you right  back with a free printable—and some free encouragement. (Just scroll to the bottom or hop over to the sidebar to subscribe.  The free printable will be in the confirmation email.)





2 thoughts on “So—what’s YOUR story?

  1. Check pulse. Good. Still breathing. lol! It was truly supernatural–and I had my rock of a man to hold me up, next to Jesus. ; ) That boy is still as sweet as the 8th grade (I’ve forgiven him for ignoring me after the 5th grade–kind of. 😉 Love you! 🙂

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