Stories get me every time. I could listen over and over again. The thing about living in a place where darkness seeps into corners and engulfs lives before our very eyes is this – the light shines brighter in the darkness.
I listened to my beautiful friends share their stories of darkness and destruction. I listened as they revealed how the Light changed them – how He changed them.
Stories. The real ones. This world desperately needs our stories. This is for you – the one with a story. We need to hear it.
And we all have a story…
I know what you’re thinking.
Maybe not right this minute. But I know you thought it this morning, or maybe last night. And probably a few times last week.
I know you.
Because I know me.
And in a certain light we all look the same.
We’re not cut out for this. Whatever this is – today.
We don’t measure up.
We can’t hack it.
It’s too much.
We are not enough.
I know you’ve thought it. Because I have. We aren’t so different – you and I.
I know the other thought, too.
The one telling us – we know better. We are better.
We don’t need a thing, because we’ve got this. All. On. Our. Own.
I’m not sure which one is worse.
Not enough? Or too much?
Either way.
We’re both wrong.
Do you know someone needs to hear you?
Do you know someone needs to know your story?
Do you know someone is waiting for you to know – you are enough?
Our stories weave and collide, and somewhere along the way we bought the lie that it doesn’t matter.
The lie that someone else can tell it much better than you, or I, can.
Or worse, the lie that no one wants to hear it.
We waste our stories.
We wrap them into air-tight containers, shove them in the dark corner, and name them Unimportant.
We waste the pain, the joy, the suffering, the victory, the horror, and the delight.
We waste all the tears shed in glorious happiness… and heart shredding sorrow.
We waste it all – when we don’t tell our stories.
We waste it all when we tuck ourselves into the file labeled Irrelevant.
Nothing is irrelevant. Nothing. And no one.
Every breath from our lungs has a purpose – no matter how minute.
You have a mighty purpose on this earth.
You know that, don’t you?
Remember the soul you passed in the store the other day?
And the one at the red light?
Or the one who lives right down the street, but you throw a wave into the air and move on?
Remember that one guy at work or the young mom with the tired eyes?
The are just like us.
They are thinking the same thing.
I am not enough.
Here’s the truth.
We. Are. More. Than. Enough.
We are fearfully and wonderfully made.
You and I are not a mistake – and neither are our stories.
There is one mistake.
The one we make when we keep our hearts and our stories to ourselves.
We hear it all too much. All the ways we should be something different. Somehow different. Someone different.
Younger. Older. Thinner. Prettier. Smarter. Quicker. All the ways we should be more put together.
And we get tired. We stop trying. We avert our eyes and go on our way. Because surely no one needs anything from our less-than-enough selves.
And we get it all wrong.
Love spoke life.
And Love spoke you.
Love expects something in return.
Love leans into the wind and releases the truth – we are more than enough.
We are necessary.
This story can’t go on without us.
You are enough right where you are.
Keep going.
Tell your story.
This world needs to hear it.
You have a purpose.
Go find it. And do it.
Love has been spoken.
Let’s pass it on…
Psalm 119:87-89
They almost wiped me from the earth, but I have not forsaken your precepts. In your unfailing love preserve my life, that I may obey the statutes of your mouth. Your word, Lord, is eternal; it stands firm in the heavens.
