The very process of kneading the events into meaning became a ritual of nourishment. My story became bread through which God mediated grace.
Sue Monk Kidd, Firstlight
May I tell you a story?
Once upon a time there was a small child.
It’s where all our stories start, right?
But we want to know what happens next.
If it’s suspenseful, we lean in close.
If it’s shocking, we pull our hands to our face.
If it’s boring, we look away and yawn.
Writing is more than sharing information.
It’s story.
Why do you tell your story? Maybe to connect soul to soul. To drive home a lesson. To create order out of chaos.
To give glory to the Author writing it?
While we do participate in the writing of our stories, we don’t create the characters, we can’t predict the plot, we rarely know from one page to the next exactly what He will write.
But if we’ve been reborn in our story—changed from orphan child into adopted daughter—we can depend on this element always appearing: grace.
God writes grace into all our stories.
Every page.
Do you hear it in your story? Do you understand it?
In Bible class Sunday morning, Tom pointed out this tiny phrase in Colossians 1:6 that I’m still thinking about...
“the grace of God in truth.”
God writes his grace in truth.
Not merely a sterile line-up of facts. [Born November 25 in Pontotoc, Mississippi, brown hair, brown eyes...]
But as story. As real-life Truth.
In my story I find grace.
Because my story is being written by God.
How I tell it is up to me.
How it ends is up to Him.
How I live it is all grace.
* * *
Where have you seen grace in your story so far today?
