Our Stories Are Meant to Be Told

I love when I’m asked how my husband Ben and I met because most people are a little surprised by our unconventional meeting at Starbucks one night in 2008. I made a last-minute decision to go out with friends for coffee (and avoid working on my graduate thesis), and he had an atypical evening off from worship practice. He also decided to come to Starbucks, but for a solo night of coffee and reading.

While Ben was a total stranger to me, he was an old college friend of Evie, who had talked me into tagging along that night. When they recognized each other, they struck up a conversation. If you ask Ben to tell the story, he says it was nice to see Evie but he also started debating between the books he brought to read and the intriguing mystery woman at the patio table with his old college friend.

Ultimately, one evening of conversation at Starbucks and a summer’s worth of late-night hangouts and conversations turned into five months of dating, five more engaged, and a May 2009 wedding. Our story usually makes people smile along with me because of how God brought Ben and me together despite some unlikely circumstances.

Our story reminds me of God’s good timing, his redemption of our expectations, and how intimately he knows our desires. Now, after ten years of marriage, three kids, three dogs, and nine different houses, I still love to tell about our beginning, especially in the hard and lean seasons when laughter and patience are in short supply, and in seasons when I’m wondering how God will work in trying circumstances.

But our stories aren’t just good for own memories and encouragement. I believe our stories are meant for others, too, which might get me classified as an over-sharer as I openly and frequently share about my depression, mental health, grief, and being the mama of a boy with special needs. I’m unbothered by the label, though, because what we share might just be someone else’s lifeline.

The writer of Hebrews reminds us to “not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased” (Hebrews 13:16 NIV). We may immediately think this verse refers to physical help and material goods, which the writer no doubt had in mind. But could also it be possible that we honor God when we share our own stories for the benefit and encouragement of others? Other parts of Scripture support this, such as, “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have” (1 Peter 3:15 NIV). Are you ready to share your story of hope and redemption authored by our God?

I pray so, because if I could persuade you of only one thing, I’d convince you to tell your story. Some of you might protest that they are not storytellers, have no gift with words, or are far too private to share your stories. Be relieved, though, as our stories aren’t really about us. Sara Billups writes that we, after all, “don’t sit at the center of the story—God does. As Christians, we believe that our lives are hidden with God and held by him, and that’s immensely liberating.” Even knowing that what we’re really telling is God’s story at work in us, we can still be intimidated or overwhelmed at the prospect of sharing. If that’s you, in “Telling Your Faith Story,” Jean Bloom shares four practical ideas about what and when to share.

I urge you to gather your courage and tell your story. It doesn’t matter if you start in the middle or at the beginning, with the best of it or the worst, with the most inconsequential event or the most dramatic. Just tell your story.

Your story can be a stitch between two souls. Stories are the transfusion we need from each other. Maybe I need to laugh, and you can tell me about the funniest day in your life. Or maybe your coworker needs to cry, and you can move him with your poetry. Maybe your brother needs to remember, and you can remind him with your memories. Maybe your child needs assurance, and so you tell her about all the times you’ve counted her freckles. Maybe the person sitting next to you needs to be reminded that God is faithful, and you can tell her about the divine providence that saw you through the hardest grief you’ve ever shouldered.

Our stories are meant to be told. How else are we known? How else do we make sense of our past? Tell our truth? Take a stand? Offer a shoulder? Remind one another of God’s grace?

Being a storyteller requires a vulnerability that seems antithetical to our picture-perfect, image- and success-driven culture. But the Christian life is intended to be countercultural, calling us to deny ourselves, to consider the needs of others, to walk and speak in truth, to be both salt and light, and to live and love in community. Perhaps you aren’t compelled to share your story with many, but sharing truly and honestly while pointing back to the hope we have in Christ, with even just one other (and then another and another), is a high calling and an immense blessing for any follower of Jesus.

Allison Byxbe is a writer and teacher who lives with her family in South Carolina. When she’s not pondering words, she enjoys hiking, learning about natural health, and drinking the perfect latte. Allison loves to connect with others about family, special needs parenting, mental health, grief, and faith. Her writing has been featured on The Mighty and Her View from Home, and you can find more of it on her blog Writing Is Cheaper Than Therapy.

Photograph © Bethany Ruth Beams, used with permission