My story.

For the last several months, we have been taking turns sharing our stories in small group.

Last night was my turn.

How in the world do you tell people a full synopsis of 29 years in less than an hour? And how do you tell people all of it? All the happy? All the sad?

I dunno. But I did it.

Ten of my closest friends heard the nitty-gritty.

The family stuff. The friend stuff. The sin stuff. The hurt stuff. The funny stuff. The weight stuff. The heart stuff. The single stuff. The Jesus stuff. The not-so-Jesus stuff.

All my junk.

I had to lay it out there. Because I knew what was coming next.

Prayer time.

If these ten people are going to group around me, lay hands on my shoulders, and pray their guts out for me, I can’t hide the ugly. To not disclose that which is dirty is to do a disservice to them- they wanted to pray for the things that REALLY matter.

And the things that REALLY matter aren’t REALLY pretty.

It was uncomfortable. It was tearful [shocker]. It was painful.

And it was beautiful.

My people. They love well.

At the end, Betsy, in her gentle way, reminded us all of something pretty important. It’s really not my story. This is God’s story. I’m just in it.

And when I think of it that way, the ugly loses it’s stink a bit. The pain dulls. And everything zooms out into right perspective.

It’s not about me. I mean, it kinda is. It’s my life. But it’s not mainly about me. It’s about Him.

Don’t get me wrong- it is important for people to know “your story”; but in reality, it’s way more important for people to hear your role in His story.

Either way, it’s time to tell the story.

So take time today. Pick up the phone and call someone. Grab coffee with a friend. Send an email. Tell someone the story you are living- who you are, where you’ve been, and where you’re going.

And tell of how Jesus has been the Author and perfecter of your faith (Heb. 12:2).

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