We’re just a big group of storytellers — some with quiet voices, some with loud. From the first moments we began roaming the earth, our very existence depended on these piles of words passed down from one soul to another. Each one, a memory, a moment in time to be cherished, learned from, or held close to be sacred. Without storytelling, learning as we know it would merely be learning from present experiences.
The Lord is a storyteller, too. The most imaginative of them all. Some of us spend our time reading His stories for the sake of knowing each verse like the back of our hand, but imagine if we read them, purely to get to know the Author Himself.
I grew up a quiet observer. Getting chatty when I found a close friend, but enjoyed much of my childhood standing silent, wild eyed in wonder, twirling my hair and listening to those around me tell stories. About the great adventure they had in another country. About the kind woman at the grocery store that made their day. About how broken they feel. About things I could hardly understand. About the things that I now understand a little bit more.
Now that I’m not so much a child these days, I still observe and listen and wonder, but I am hoping and wishing and praying I can listen to the Lord tell stories again, I want to read His word without the pressure of remembering His exact phrasing, but painting the mental picture in my mind so vividly that I can hold on to that picture like the prints I hang on my wall.
He’s apart of every moment of our lives and imagine if we all allowed our life now to blur and blend together with the stories in the bible. They’re as real as the camera roll on our phone.
I imagine at the ends of our lives, we will have a jagged edge, messy stack of papers all different shades of ivory and white, some lined, some not. They’re all tied up with a string. Pages filled with our life stories. They, in many ways represent what made us the person we are on that day, standing before the Lord. We pull the stack of papers from under our arm & lift them, shaking, up to the Lord saying “We read yours, we know you’ve already read ours, but here. Take my life stories, they are my heart, and that is yours, too.”
The Lord isn’t a Lord of looking at you in all your flaws and stumblings, but He is the Lord of looking at all your pages, every single one. He carefully reads between the lines, noting the moments you felt broken, unwelcome, and unloved. He notes the parts that don’t make sense to you and sees how the chapters ebb and flow and lead you from dark to light and light to dark and back to light again. He sees the characters that enter your life and hold your hand and the characters that take your hand and lead you down a road you didn’t plan for. He smiles when you walk down the one He carved out for you, boldly. Your pages may be black and white, but His love for you is not. It is colorful, it spills all over your pages of life and brings the color to your story.
Keep working on your pages of life, internet friends. He is reading, He is listening.
Come What May Blvd 