The Telling

Who we are isn't in the statistics, dates, times, or places we've been. Who we are, is in the stories of our lives. In chapter six of Wes Yoder's book, “Bond of Brothers,” he makes a strong appeal to men to keep the stories of their lives, and to share them. It is in the telling of our stories that people really come to know us. Our lives are more than 140 character tweets, facebook posts, or Flicker picture posts. This sea of humanity undulates with the rhythm of life, and we find ourselves crashing upon one another in explosions of life, death, and glorious hope in between. There isn't one human being upon this earth that has escaped the role we all play. Even the most discarded of human beings, at any given moment breathes hope in, and hope is the story.

Because of the personal nature of the stories told yesterday morning, I won't repeat any of them here. What I will tell you, is that they are better than any movie, funnier than any sitcom, and more vibrant than any book you may read. It is the telling, that makes our lives real. History is the telling. The Bible is the telling. Greek tragedies, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, are the telling. We all have a telling, some of which are more rich and vibrant than any work of fiction.

We all do it, whether over a deck of cards, the dinner table, or within a warm family gathering, we all have a telling. It is the stories that reveal our true nature. The stories remove the masks and the costumes we put on. The stories reveal our hopes, our fears, our triumphs, and most importantly, what we cherish. The stories prove we are human, and that we, like all people are caught in the eternal tidal pull of life and death. Telling the stories, is a healing process. In the telling we watch the faces of those around us to see if there is a glimmer of recognition. The stories are always different, but the themes and questions are all the same.

Do you know how I felt, when I rushed my wife to the hospital for the birth of our first child?

 Do you know the stark raving fear, and pain of seeing a child in a situation to which you had no control? 

 Do you know the utter sense of euphoria that comes over a man when his request for the hand of a young maiden is granted. 

 Do you know the weight that bears down on your heart when your child comes home defeated in school, even though trying as hard as they might.

These stories haven't changed throughout the eons.

As Christians, it's easy to assign everything in our lives to a capricious, manipulative God, and negate the fact that our stories are precious to him. Do we realize they are written, and stored in scrolls in heaven. What should grip our hearts even more, is that those stories can become the foundation of hope for someone who needs just one reason to hang on.  The stories don't have to be valiant stories of faith and courage.  The Bible is full of stories where the person did something dumb.  Somewhere in the past, long ago, a young Christian woman opened the door to her home to find the Apostle Peter standing at the door. Gasping, she slams the door in his face, and in terror reports to those gathered in the room to pray for the very same Peter, that he was there. Then imagine the chastisement she received at the hands of those praying. Until, . . . 

We wouldn't know this happened, if someone hadn't told the story. I'm sure the story was told with great howls of laughter and finger pointing to one another, until it became a story that Bro. Luke would hear and retell for us to read  two thousand years later. The book of Acts is still being written today, let's find the time to tell our stories.

Everyone read Chapter Seven for next week.