My Jour(His story)ney

Recently I had the terrifying privilege of sharing some of my life's faith journey with a group of homeschooling moms.  For weeks I pondered over events and people from the past, wondering exactly what it was I needed to share. I prayed. I scribbled notes. I looked at pictures in photo albums.  I made lists and then scratched things off the lists. I bit my fingernails.

I was a mess.

Who really, seriously, needed or wanted to hear anything about my life? Why couldn't we just focus on the here and now and read a meaningful passage from, say, the Gospel of John, applying it to our daily lives? That would definitely be more beneficial than some timeline. What was the big deal, anyway?

Ah, that was the question...what was the big deal? Why was I so anxious and resistant? Why was this so hard?

I was afraid. Of exposure. Of rejection. Of others' opinions. Of sharing the ways I desperately needed Christ's redeeming grace and mercy.  Of shame. 

Then that still small Voice broke through my self-absorption. "You are not your own, you are bought with a price."  This journey, my journey, wasn't really about me. It was about Him! When Christ forgave my sin and rescued me from the kingdom of darkness, He bought the publishing rights to all of me. My whole life belongs to Him--future, present and past. It wasn't my story after all. It was His!

There was another thought gnawing at the edges of my mind. I have an enemy that doesn't want word to get out about Christ's powerful love and grace at work in my life. He loves nothing better than the mask, the polite nothings, the fear of discovery. That enemy is Satan. He knows the power of one life. He will never forget that day when one Life laid itself down on a cross, only to rise again to the salvation of millions! How he hates the one life. Suddenly I realized the source of my fear and anxiety, and I was not bowing to it!

I was still a mess, but I was an obedient mess. I would go and share, and trust my Savior to make His Name great. It was up to Him. After all, He started it.

And then the night was over. The tangled mess of anxiety melted in His presence. If He had some purpose for this night, so be it. Some shared that same night how God had touched them. In my mind, I sat back and admired His perfect handiwork. He wastes nothing, He loves each one, He knows every story.

Maybe it's time you let Him share yours....