So I have this plaque in my office at church. I have it there as a way to show all who come in my office that I value them, that their story, their heart, their life is important. I want them to know I will listen to them and strive to make it a safe place, a place where they feel comfortable sharing their story.
Your beautifully messy complicated story matters (tell it)
I believe that what the plaque says is true, I really do. But one thing I have learned over the year is that if I am honest, I mostly believe it to be true for other people.
I believe everyone's story matters, in fact I fight and advocate for others to learn to listen and ask to hear others stories, to get to know someone deeper than face value.
I work to create spaces for that exchange to happen.
Until its my turn.
I recently went away to a cottage with 4 other amazing women. This is only the 2nd time I have left my kids overnight and gone away without my husband in 9 years. It was strange and unfamiliar. And wonderful.
We talked, we shared stories, wine and good food. These women all took turns sharing their testimonies and I was impressed and encouraged by their faith, by what God had done in their lives, and how freely they were willing to share the good and the bad. And then they looked at me and asked me to share mine.
I didn't know what to say. My testimony is boring, at least that is what I thought when I compared it to theirs. (Really, when God works in a life, how can it ever be called boring?)
I fumbled through it with many a dismissive comment saying how 'normal' and 'boring' it was. I looked at the ground a lot. I got done as quickly as I could. And I felt so stupid and small afterward.
I started this blog many months ago. It was a dream of mine. Something I have wanted to do for a long time, but was too scared to try. I finally did after some major coaxing from Eric, but,
I have since written on it only 4 times.
I make it a point to ask people how they are doing and really mean it. To ask follow-up questions that force someone to get past the usual 'fine' or 'good'. I take the time to listen and find out what is really going on in someone's life, if they will let me.
But then when they ask me how I am and push me for answers, I don't know what to say. So I say "I'm fine, nothing much is new just the same old stuff", and then turn the conversation back to them.
Part of it is that I don't know how to cram everything that has been going on into a short summary.
But if I am honest, the reason for how I handled all the instances I have just described is because I am scared. Scared of my voice.
Scared that others will think I am dumb and boring.
Scared I will say the wrong things.
Scared I will say the right things and will be thought of as 'too much'.
Scared that I will think my voice is too special.
Scared that my voice really isn't special.
Scared that I don't really have anything of importance to say.
What if no one listens?
What if they do listen and don't like it?
What if I share my heart, put myself out there, and get turned away from again?
What if, what if, what if...
I am learning that I need to focus on a new set of what ifs.
What if God wants to speak through me and I don't let Him?
What if I could bring someone encouragement with my story and I withhold it?
What if I started listening to what God says about me instead of the lies Satan says?
What if I stopped comparing myself to everyone else?
God says that I am loved and I am His, no matter what anyone else thinks of what I do or don't say.
God says He is great and good and what He does is beyond compare.
God says He has saved me and redeemed me with His own blood.
If I stifle my voice and refuse to share my story because I don't think it is good enough, then I am basically saying that I don't think God has done a good enough work in my life to share.
That is not the message I want to give. I want all I say or do to give God glory.
Your beautifully messy complicated story matters (tell it)
This year, instead of just believing this for others, by God's grace I plan to begin to believe this for myself.
