Originally published Wednesday, 23 December 2015.
The other day we were on a school field trip when my son pointed to the wall and asked, “Hey, mom, is that a fossil? What a cool mark!” I smiled at his observation, but the moment seemed to trigger something in me. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about different kinds of impressions – whether physical, emotional, or spiritual, the stories of our lives leave lasting marks.
Sometimes I read younger authors, or status updates from Facebook friends, and find myself a tad bit jealous of the twenty-something that writes with a resolute view of their world. It’s as if they have a grip on the story of their life and so they work diligently to press their pens to the page with meaning. They have a deep need to make an impression that actually lasts.
I don’t think I knew much of anything at that age. Maybe it was because I was raising one child while grieving another. It’s possible I lived in oblivion to my story because I was spending night and day crying out desperately for God to fill a void left behind from a mysterious thief in my womb.
I’m pretty sure it wasn’t until I arrived in my late thirties that I began to understand the concept of my story. I’m now approaching age forty-three and with every new sunrise, I know there’s another blank page to be filled.
Whether or not I like how life unfolds, my story will be told. I don’t have a choice. You don’t have a choice. With each action, as we live and breathe, our stories are written.
Here’s the thing: we’re influencers. All of us.
We were born to tell a story with our words, the people we do life with, and the happenings of everyday debacles. What some of us think are boring, routine-filled days with no interruption from spontaneity, is another person’s wide open eyes and ears to the rhythm of how another lives life.
How will we be seen? Are we consciously pushing pen to page knowing this story is a matter of life and death, or are we living obliviously just trying to survive?
People are watching. Some wait for us to do well while others wait for us to fall flat on our faces. Regardless of the outcome, will we live free or chained? Because, friend, we will fall, but it’s the getting back up part that matters most. Oftentimes, hard falls propel the best stories ever told. They give courage to everyone who watched us hit the ground, but stared mystified when we stood up despite bruised pride, grief, and shaken faith.
So, how do we push pen to paper and write our stories? Here’s what I say: Make your story His.
He owns it anyway, so submit everything to Him. Stop blaming Him for the wrongs in your life and start praising Him that you’re breathing through it. The mercy-filled part of this message is that when you go to bed at night, the page will turn. It’s then you can repent and move on into the next day where the book is wide-open and the page is blank again.
Determine every minute to allow your story to be His. Celebrate His life and hope with your breath and beating heart.
- Love more.
- Give more.
- Pray more.
- let your story morph into courageous encouragement that’s uncontainable and undeniable.
We have just two more days until the celebration of hope arrives. When you wake up tomorrow you’ll have a brand new blank page to live.
- You are alive in Christ.
- You are redeemed and forgiven.
- You are set free.
- You are filled with purpose.
- You have a great inheritance. (If you don’t believe me, just read Ephesians chapter one.)
And, you have all those things because He came down into a dark world to be your light and hope.
Write His story with your beating heart, friend.
May your Christmas be filled with wonder and beauty as you celebrate the hope of Christ.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.