We are attracted to great stories. We will pay money to sit for 2 hours and watch a good story play out in front of us. We will pick up a book or two or seven and read straight through the story that is told in those one, two or seven books.
There is something within us that loves cheering on the underdog. We love to watch adversity be overcome.
We love stories.
I mean, so many people are beginning to love the story of this little Canadian YouTube star turned megastar named Justin Bieber. (I was just talking to a friend the other night and they said after watching the movie, they became a “Belieber”. Its no longer just me folks.)
Each one of us have the makings of a story. We are living a story. Maybe you don’t see it, or don’t think you have a story, but you do. Where you come from, your family, who you hang out with, who you are influencing, the decisions you make. Each one of us are living a story. You have the choice to make that story good, bad or great.
What I love about the stories in the Bible, they aren’t stories that are glammed up. A prophet named Ehud, was left-handed and that was seen as a disadvantage compared to all the warriors in his time. Yet, he was obedient, trusted God and ended up taking out a king while he was relieving himself. (It doesn’t get much better than that!) Or the story of Ruth, where her husband died, and she remained faithful to her mother in law, and God totally blessed her, and put her in the line of King David, and eventually in the line of Jesus. Ruth didn’t know that in her lifetime, yet she left an epic legacy.
Each one of these stories are unique, and nothing special until you look at the BIG picture.
Your life is a story.
I think we tend to underestimate our lives. We just living our lives thinking we are going to do nothing significant. We are just trying to live each day, survive each day.
When I was about 7 years old, I remember realizing that I was different, that my family was different. I remember wishing my family was “normal”. Sure, no family is “normal”, but having parents, who were deaf, was not normal. I couldn’t just pick up a phone to call my mom at home, it was a tedious and quite annoying processes. My sister played the piano, and I remember going to recitals and wishing my parents could hear her play.
I remember asking God all these questions… Why my parents? Why couldn’t they be normal? Why couldn’t they just hear? I wished my life was normal. I was so caught up in only me, and my perspective that I hadn’t even taken the time or the energy to think of anyone outside of me.
And isn’t that the case most of the time? We get caught up in our stories, our lives, and its all about me, me, me.
Maybe its time for a perspective shift. What is the context of our stories? What made us, what brought us to this place?
What is the context of your story?
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