As I’ve been preparing to speak Sunday at WestWay, I’m finding a problem. I want to move people to believe a better story (His story) about their lives, but I often find myself believing the wrong story, too. In the story that seems to be my default, I am a small, shrinking voice – easy to ignore, easy to brush by, easy to forget. Though I may have something important to say, in my story, no one listens. The moment I finish speaking, my words tumble through the sandy hills and deserts, unheard. In my story, I’m out on a limb alone, wondering if I should be there, but with no real mentors to have helped me decide upon which branch to climb.
What a stupid story!
When I believe that, I fail to believe His story as it’s been played out in my life’s history. I fail to believe He really loves me, not for whatever performance I may be turning in, but because I am His image bearing creation. When I choose my story over His, I forget that He has chosen me to be adopted into His family, and gifted me with something to share with that family. I short-change the men and women and friends and students and starry nights and books through which He’s called to me and led me.
In His story, I am loved beyond all rationality. In His story, I have been gifted and equipped to strengthen the Body of Christ. In His story, He’s worked through me to draw lives into His Life and to help churches proceed with His mission. It’s really a much more compelling story! I’m so thankful to God for the roles He’s allowed me to live in His story, and grateful for the way He’s using this time in my life to remind me that He’s still writing!