Whispers and Shouts

Stories are powerful. My first recollection of their impact came while I sat eating breakfast one morning before getting on the school bus. I listened intently as a deep-voiced gentleman on the radio captivated me with the Kentucky backwoods imagery surrounding a poor, young store clerk named Abraham Lincoln. Like an artist, he painted with bold strokes of how Lincoln had been given six cents too much in a transaction and of his undaunted journey to return the money. The vivid details and character qualities came alive in my young mind, creating images more real than any modern-day flat screen could have displayed. As I looked out the foggy window on my way to school, those still-fresh scenes almost ached to be retold. After my teacher led our morning pledge to the flag and the prayer for our day, I mustered just enough nerve to walk up to her desk and ask permission to share with the class the story still playing in my head. Taken aback, she looked up from the attendance sheet to confirm my sincerity. Then, as she ushered me to the front of the room, she called for my classmates’ attention and set the stage for me to speak. As I conveyed those images with knees knocking, I remember how it felt to see my friends’ eyes widen, eager for each turn of events. Leaning in, they seemed captivated in their seats as I recounted the vivid scenes teeming, eager for an audience. I was amazed to witness how my desire to paint those pictures for them overrode my nerves and strengthened my knees. Then, after I retook my seat, the teacher quietly left the room. When she returned, she came straight to my desk, bent down, paid me a nice compliment, and informed me that the other second-grade class would like to hear my story as well. What a resounding encouragement for a seven-year-old, first-time storyteller. Years later, as a fifth grade teacher, I remember when my own students stilled each other to hear every word and squirmed with excitement as I read. Predictably, each time I approached the last chapter for the day, I heard, “You can’t stop there! Just one more, pleeease?” Whether it was to clarify a difficult concept in history, science, math, or grammar, or just for the fun of it, a new air of interest, energy, and eventually hushed silence filled the room when the first words of the story commenced. Those shared stories created a special bond. They carved out a secret place our classes could retreat to that no one else knew about and very few other students had experienced. Shared bonds, as we all know, are powerful. Those stories also took care of a multitude of potential discipline problems, creating a sense of camaraderie among my students and me. I always loved teaching and made it my trademark to use the element of story as frequently as possible. The same holds true in the business world. I have seen how powerfully stories translate across cultures and languages in my travels to Paris, Canada, London, and elsewhere for international business trainings. Raucous, half-listening conference rooms filled with thousands come to rapt attention when a speaker begins her story. Actually, we are all in the midst of a tale of one kind or another; you, me, your eccentric aunt, the postal carrier, the distressed lady at the grocery store, and that mysterious reclusive neighbor. Seeing my own as part of the greater story of the gospel of Christ has forever altered how I see others. And with that new understanding, I never go through an airport or mall, or sit on a park bench without the awareness that each person I pass or sit beside has a story that, if he or she shared it with me over coffee, would change me. As I listen with curiosity, I can’t help but marvel at God’s sovereign threads of presence and redemption. Like the multicolored pieces that make up a tapestry, each of our journeys includes joys and sorrows, life and death, peace and turmoil, wounds and healing, loves and losses. And like a grand Weaver, God uses every thread to weave something He alone sees. There are universal needs that impact every story: our insatiable search for purpose and meaning, the desire to know and be known, and our need to love and be loved to name a few. Even knowing God as the grand Weaver, there have been times in the midst of my darkness when His goodness, mercy, and redemption felt a million miles away. It was in those times when I realized I was looking up at the underside of my tapestry with the messy, gnarled pieces and colors tied off and hanging haphazardly. I have at times mistaken the random underside mess for the top. By faith and over time, I have come to understand that God works on the other side of the frame, creating a work of beauty I cannot yet see. I am learning to be patient with His process. God tells me He is, even now, making all things new and that we are His masterpieces, created for His glory. My prayer is that, as you read these portions of my story, God will tune your heart to hear His voice more clearly. I hope you will grasp the vibrant threads of His eternal love for you as well as His amazing grace, sovereign wisdom, and threads of redemption in your own story as you read these parts of mine. And I also pray that you, along with me, will be able to hear that personal call of the Lion of Judah to “come farther up, come farther in,” as C. S. Lewis wrote in The Last Battle.