I used to think my faith story wasn’t important, so I didn’t tell it very often. It wasn’t flashy or sensational like girl-meets-God-and-the-world-will-never-be-the-same. But, now I’m seventy-two and I’ve told many stories of God and me — stories of faith and failure, disappointment and joy, hopes gone and dreams fulfilled. Through it all, I’ve seen the value in the telling. I learned all our stories count because God is the Hero and when I tell my story, and when you tell yours, we get a chance to show Him off.
You may or may not relate to my story. Even still, because I’m a supporting character in God’s big story, you’ll see a glimpse of Him in my story . . . and that’s a good enough reason to tell my story any chance I get.
I was practically born in the choir loft. My folks were believers and I was number four of five kids, so their faith had steadied and grown by the time I came along. I was baptized at six — and at age eight I asked Jesus into my heart at a Good News Club meeting at our house.
Our church was in a different town than my schools, so I didn’t get much faith encouragement from friends. Sometimes, I felt like I was two different people: a church-going girl surrounded by folks who believed in God and felt like family . . . and also that girl growing up alongside neighborhood kids and their parents who didn’t go to church or camp or talk about God much at all.
At age fifteen, I went on my first missions trip. It was then and there I first heard about something called a “life verse.” It sounded very important and I figured I better get one since I was to be interviewed by the deacons. I prayed and opened my Bible with eyes closed and pointing down at the page. And God, in His great mercy, showed me what turned out to be a most wonderful life verse, indeed:
“And He died for all, that those who live should live no longer for themselves, but for Him who died for them and rose again.”
2 Corinthians 5:15 NKJV
This verse had to do with logic, which is not my strong suit, but . . . it made sense to my insecure, young brain. God had given all: His Son to die for me. What else could I do but give my all in return?
It wasn’t lightening in the sky. It was words on a page, words that God used to guide my story towards Him. The Word is living and slices to the marrow and it changed my life that day, young as I was.
As I look back, I realize gifting my life to Christ in return for what He did for me wasn’t much of a trade. At fifteen, I wore glasses — the pointy kind. I had dental crowns on my teeth, leftover from a dodge ball incident in third grade. I had freckles. We lived in a wealthy neighborhood but we weren’t wealthy. Our family shopped at Sears, not Nordstrom. We did our own chores. We didn’t get a car at sixteen.
So, no — giving my life to Jesus wasn’t such a big deal in the world’s terms. Jesus left heaven, died on a cross, and gave me life forever. All He received in return from me . . . was me. But I gave what I had — myself, red hair and all. Kind of like the two loaves of bread and five fish; a young boy gave what he had. Not much for such a big crowd. But God made it work.
It didn’t matter I wasn’t a big deal. He died for me. How could I do less for Him?
My friend, Laurie says, “I make myself available, and God shows up.” And whenever He does, that’s a story worth telling.
Someone you’ve just met may not know that God wants to be the Hero of their story, too. That alone is reason to weave Him in and through daily conversation. Imagine, your best Jesus-friend needs encouragement for staying the course, so you sidle up to her at Bible study and whisper, “I was late today . . . but God had a reason. I’ll tell you right after this is over.” And then you tell her your story, and her faith is stronger for it.
And, of course, seventy-two or not, we forget so readily what God has done. We pray desperate prayers. God comes through and we’re already on to the next desperate prayer. So, remember your stories — and tell them, too.
Stories are like stones of remembrance. They help us remember God’s goodness and that’s worth all the telling.
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Love this so much! It never bothers me to tell my story in Devotionals..,in writing…to people far away I’ll never meet. But face-to face? That’s a challenge for me. Reading this today made me want to try harder! At 73, it’s about time I did!
Ah yes, that face-to-face thing. And somehow it gets easier – people expect us to be honest and frank the older we get. At least I hope so! (just turned 73)
Loved seeing your story here today Sue! Years of faithful steady following has incredible impact.
Hi, Lisa, thanks and, steady on, as you know, is God’s gracious work in spite of ourselves. xoxo
This really touched my heart! Thank you! God is my Hero of my story!
Yes he is and I always love that reminder. And I’m so glad it did, Carin.
Thank you for sharing your story today! I love how you said our stories are stones of remembrance. You reminded us that in sharing those stories we can be a witness for Christ, and even if our story seems plain to us, it is just what someone else needs to hear.
I totally agree!
Me, too!
No one can’t take our story from us and it’s ours to give at just the right moment the Lord’s prepared. Kinda cool, actually. (:
Thanks for sharing. Sometimes we forget to share or even have the courage to share at any age. We have to remember that God is the hero of all our stories no matter how good or bad it is. Sharing is caring and what we share with others just could be what they need to know that this too shall past.
Right you are and taking a friend’s hand and saying in the most natural way, “I’m going to pray for you right now,” and then you do and God is on his way to making himself their hero as well.
Dear Sue…………………..Your story was wonderful and very truthful. I have a story that many people do not believe, but it happened. I am 77 soon to be 78 years old and much life experience. So I will go back to the beginning. When I was 45, I had to have a hysterectomy due to excess endometriosis. It went well and I recovered; however, the pain I had before the operation was still there. My doctor kept giving me different tests and trying medication but for 6 months I was still suffering. Back in the very early 70’s, they did not have the technical things that they have now. Finally something clicked and I went to see him and I saw how upset he was to talk to me. When I had that operation and was only 45, they gave you Premarin to avoid menopause so young. Little did anyone know at the time that if you had any endometriosis left the Premarin fed it and made it much better ; thus all the pain. The doctor who was so kind explained to me that I would need to go to the Gynocoloigest Onchologist as my doctor was not trained to do the operation I would need. So I went and he said, you don’t have cancer, but you have a large growth of endo. in the corner of your vaginal cuff that is causing all your pain. It is a serious operation and will probably take 9+ hours which is a long time to be under anesthesia, but we have to do it. I cried and my then husband was very upset, but I did it. My original doctor even took time to come to the operating room before they put me under to talk to me and tell me everything would be fine. What a nice thing the doctor I knew so well would do this for me.So I was on the operating table for 9 and a half hours. When I came out of the fod I was in there were several problems so they kept me in the recovery room over night. Sue, I am telling you all this and I apologize, but you needed to know the back story to understand the next part that relates greatly into your devotion. The next day they took me back to my room and the doctor ( head of that department) was there and my husband, After only about 5 minutes, the doctor told the nurse to give me a medication. She did and 2 minutes after, I coded and the rest of this I only know what my husband saw. They shoved him out of the room and everyone came running. I ended up in ICU for 2 weeks in a drug-induced coma, but my doctor told my husband that he did not think a would survive the night so he stayed with my husband probably hoping we would not sue him. During this night a very miraculous thing happened. When I was in this coma everything seemed white and then all of a sudden I SAW Jesus and my Holy Spirit was with Him. Jesus told my Holy Spirit to whisper to me. Betsy, this is not your time. You have too much to give to others that will encourage them. My Holy Spirit whispers to listen very closely to Jesus who then spoke to me and said ” I will help you and give you strength, but you have to fight, fight, fight like you never did before. Please remember Me.” Well, since I am here telling you my story, I must have fought like Jesus wanted me to do and everyone was shocked that I survived. There is a caveat to this. when I would tell friends or people that did or didn’t believe in God that it must have been a dream. I couldn’t understand why they did not believe me. My husband who was a devout Catholic laughed and said it was a dream. That hurt me down to the bone so I stopped telling people, but Sue, I hope you don’t think I made up this thing that happened which I am sure was a Miracle no matter what others think. My faith is very strong and I pray every day as I now am living in a very dark season, but that is a story for another day. Never doubt God, Jesus of your Holy Spirit I say to all. The Trilogy is real and if you are patient and keep praying, eventually something beautiful will happen when you least expect it. Sue, I send you my thanks and my love for sharing your story with us. I wish you a Blessed weekend….Betsy
Dear Betsy, thank you for telling me your amazing story. My prayer for you is that you will be comforted as you look back and remember God’s hand and help for you and be strengthened in your faith and his Word. I love praying Psalm 143:8 every morning which gives me light and hope for each new day.