I listened to a sermon Sunday in which the pastor told me not to get too far from my story. Today, I read a paper from a student that talked about the work she believes that she is called to do. Every day I watch my husband put on his uniform and go to work, not for his paycheck, but to live out his story. For the last three months, I have been telling students about the rich history of the world in which we all get our story. That’s what I want to talk about today, our stories.
They are as individual as we are. They are filled with the stuff that makes us who we are at the core. When our stories intertwine with that of God’s there is a different depth that even we cannot grasp. While I will talk about the value of the story here – I still lack a full knowledge of its meaning.
Let me begin with my story. Since I like to build stories from images, picture this with me. Every event, every person, every moment in my life has either placed gifts or stones at my feet. I say this for your sake not mine because I believe that my stones are also gifts. The consistent placement of either of these in my life built two things: a wall and a heart of compassion. As I have aged several other events have also taken place. The wall at one point fully encompassed the heart. I lived in darkness, selfishness, and depression. Once I realized this and began to take the wall down slowly – I mean very slowly – like stone by stone, the heart of compassion not only was released, but it experienced an expansion like no other I’ve known prior or since in my life.
My darkness began very early as a child. I allowed hurt and anger a small opening as a young child. It was alright because what harm could it really do? Let me tell you it was not a small thing!! That anger grew into justification. Justification for my right to be who I wanted and do what I wanted. And boy did I! Inside of all those feelings was a sense that I was entitled to feel hurt. But I have to admit that I really hated the pain of hurting. If I was allowed to hurt, I also was allowed to numb it however I wanted. So began the first hit of a cigarette, which turned into a first hit of a joint, and then a first line of Cocaine, and shame. This is where it gets good. Shame is a weird thing. It doesn’t care about the person, it has one goal and that is to bury that person in so much guilt that there is no climbing out.
Shame was heavy, oppressive. So, I pushed it down. Promiscuity and recklessness became a new norm. And shame would go away when I hid it with the numbness of drugs. Until it came back. This time when shame came back it no longer oppressed, it stood up tall in my face and laughed in mockery. I couldn’t run. There was no place that I could leave my shame and so I did the unthinkable, I decided dying was the only escape.
Have you ever watched a Sci-Fi movie where there are two worlds living in existence together without the other worlds knowledge? At some point in the movie the characters of those worlds somehow learn of each other. Sorta like time travel. That is my story! Every time I put that line of coke into my nostril and shame wrapped its tentacles around my heart the other world felt something else. In perfect rhythm, time and time again, on constant repeat in the other world a man’s knees hit the ground under the new weight (I heaped on) as he dragged the trunk of a tree up a hill. And every time I devalued my body, giving it away carelessly that same man felt his skin rip apart as a stake was driven into it.
Why? For what reason would this occur? Because there are two sides to our world, the evil and the truth. Wrapped up into evil is all that brings us down, devalues us, rips open our hearts, shreds our humanity. On the other side is the place where all that attacks us is absorbed allowing restoration or hope to fill our hearts, our souls, our spirits.
But we have to reach across that chasm and find it. Why, because you have a story inside of you. Not a story of pain. Yes, you might have a wall of pain, but it is not your story. Your story is waiting for you to reach across the abyss. When you do you come alive, your story becomes passion, your focus is turned outward and the world in which darkness tries to overcome you is changed.
Maybe you save a life in a fire, maybe you pray with a nervous patient, maybe you give a blanket to the homeless. Whatever it is, shame begins to shrink, guilt is beat back and something else begins to take its place.
Let me step out of my metaphoric language for a minute. I want you to know that if you are living into these places of darkness, I am not making light of it. It is real! It is suffocating! And it is incredibly dangerous! When my daughter plays basketball and is struggling to make shots, I have told her for something like six years now, you only need 2 points. Do you know why? Two points gives you hope to make the next basket. Soon you are shooting threes. If you keep your focus and the hope, then there is real potential for the outcome of the game to turn in your favor. How do I know this? I’ve seen it played out in sports and I’ve lived it played out in my own life. I do not have superpowers so when I say you can do this one stone at a time, I have walked it with you. So, has Jesus.
I have a few favorite words that I sing when I can’t hear the voice of hope, let me share them with you. “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full into his wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.” (Helen Lemmel)
There is one other thing that has helped me immensely and that is to know someone in the world cares. Hold these next words dear to you wherever you may travel. They are my heart of compassion that Jesus helped me to uncover. They are my story. It is my hope that you will find encouragement and strength in them. Thank you for allowing me to travel with you! I love you, my friend.
“I pray love into your life. I pray strength. I pray hope. I pray Jesus. You are made for a story. Your story is valuable. Your story is needed. You are precious to God. You are precious to me. May your feet be quick to find Jesus. You are loved!”
Monica Swank 