Do you have a favorite story – one you tell over and over again?
I have one. In fact, I just told it earlier today.
My husband and I come from quite different backgrounds. He’s a city kid. I’m a country kid. His extended family would fit in a large living room. My extended family would need a convention center. He grew up in a home that didn’t prioritize church. I grew up in a home that seldom missed a Sunday.
My husband’s family gathered for a reunion a few years ago. As folks were telling of days gone by, someone told the story of family members who had run liquor during the prohibition. When they finished, I put my hand on my husband’s shoulder and said in a serious tone, “My people were praying for your people.”
We laughed then, and have laughed many times since, over that moment (seriously though, it’s probably true). Maybe your favorite story is funny, like mine. Maybe it’s a cute story about something your child or pet did, an exciting story about something adventurous you did, or an amazing story about something miraculous God has done. We’re eager to relay our stories because of the impact they had on our lives.
Our stories also give others a glimpse of who we are at the core. It can be unnerving to let people see what’s inside us.
I think that’s why I’m sometimes reluctant to tell the story that changed my life. What will people think of me if they know what’s most important to me? It’s THE story. I wanted – needed – to hear it. So, what makes me think other people don’t?
It’s the one about Jesus, and how He died on the cross to pay the penalty for my sin, so I could stand in God’s presence purified and righteous.
He made Him who knew no sin to be sin in our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. (2 Corinthians 5:21)
It’s the story about how God adopted me and called me His own, even though I’ve never done anything to deserve it.
For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons and daughters by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” (Romans 8:15)
And how one day, when I die or Christ returns (whichever comes first), I’ll go and live with Him forever in a place that He’s preparing for me.
In My Father’s house are many rooms; if that were not so, I would have told you, because I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I am coming again and will take you to Myself, so that where I am, there you also will be. (John 14:2-3)
I hope this is your story, too. And I hope you have more courage to tell it than I sometimes do. It’s a story that can bring hope to people in despair, peace to people wracked by all sorts of conflict, and joy to those who’ve known too much sorrow. It’s a timeless story with the power to transform lives.
I love to tell the story of unseen things above, of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love; I love to tell the story because I know ’tis true, it satisfies my longing as nothing else can do.
(I Love to Tell the Story by A. Catherine Hankey)