Sometimes, because God knows my love for metaphors and words and allegories and such, a word or phrase will begin to jump out again and again in a given season. Sometimes they are comforting; other times, they are confusing and, admittedly, a little frustrating, like this particular phrase. Through sermons and songs and blog posts, this idea of telling your story has been repeated over and over. Anyone who knows me well will smile, because this theme is usually so much a part of me. I love telling stories, hearing stories, matching words to thoughts and feelings and images. So much redemption and hope has come into my life through broken people sharing their real stories, the ways they have met God in the valley. But I surprised myself last week when my pastor posed this challenge to tell someone your story by Thursday afternoon at noon,because I, the self proclaimed word nerd and story junkie, got angry and fought it with every fiber of my being.
Right now, I am really, really frustrated with the direction my story is headed. I am angry and hurt because my dreams not only haven't turned out the way I planned but are threatened by factors I cannot control. I'm not ready to tell my story yet, because the middle has dragged on forever and caused me to question parts of the story that I thought I loved. Because I'm tired of this part of the story, I have found myself guilty of questioning and even devaluing what has come before,
what I thought I knew about my purpose, my value and my calling. Sometimes I think I hate this part of the story, this season I find myself in, but my hope is not found in the immediate outcome of this situation.
No, I'm not ready to tell the story yet, because it's still so raw and reeks of failure, but in the midst of this, I am also learning to find hope. Because, actually, my story is not a success story. This is a love story, a story of me learning to live into who I am already named to be. My story is, in the words of Hilary Yancey; "When I could not move toward God, he came running to me." This is my hope, my story, what I cling to as I wait for the pieces to come together and fall into place.In this place of doubt and frustration, I am named beloved. As I wait and pray and rage and cry, I am working my way deeper into my Father's heart. Not because He loves me more when I am in pain, but because in this place, I am woken to the ways I am already loved, the position that is already mine in his eyes.
http://frame.bloglovin.com/?post=3904503609&blog=4614987&frame_type=none
Right now, I am really, really frustrated with the direction my story is headed. I am angry and hurt because my dreams not only haven't turned out the way I planned but are threatened by factors I cannot control. I'm not ready to tell my story yet, because the middle has dragged on forever and caused me to question parts of the story that I thought I loved. Because I'm tired of this part of the story, I have found myself guilty of questioning and even devaluing what has come before,
what I thought I knew about my purpose, my value and my calling. Sometimes I think I hate this part of the story, this season I find myself in, but my hope is not found in the immediate outcome of this situation.
No, I'm not ready to tell the story yet, because it's still so raw and reeks of failure, but in the midst of this, I am also learning to find hope. Because, actually, my story is not a success story. This is a love story, a story of me learning to live into who I am already named to be. My story is, in the words of Hilary Yancey; "When I could not move toward God, he came running to me." This is my hope, my story, what I cling to as I wait for the pieces to come together and fall into place.In this place of doubt and frustration, I am named beloved. As I wait and pray and rage and cry, I am working my way deeper into my Father's heart. Not because He loves me more when I am in pain, but because in this place, I am woken to the ways I am already loved, the position that is already mine in his eyes.
http://frame.bloglovin.com/?post=3904503609&blog=4614987&frame_type=none
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