When “Doing” And “Being” Converge

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For one of the sessions, I got to speak in the main worship center of Eagle’s Landing First Baptist Church.

In my relationship with God, my heart’s default position is to be a “do-er” for Him. Historically, I prefer task to love. Which, of course, is completely unsatisfactory to Him and destructive to me. Which, of course, is why much of my adult spiritual life has been about unwinding this soul-killing, task-oriented twisted-ness of mine. Which, of course, is why, His calling on my life is to learn to do the long, hard, painful and at times crushingly lonely work of learning to become a better and more complete “be-er” in Him. Which, of course, both breaks and re-makes my heart, all at the same time.

Recently, I was invited to speak at Confluence – the fall conference for the Georgia Baptist Campus Ministries. (If you go to the website, under Conference Details, you can see my photo and bio:)  It actually was quite a convergence of meaningful events for me…the chance to share with hundreds of university students some of what God has been teaching me along the way, an opportunity to reconnect with special friends who do student ministry across the state, and a time for me to be reminded of something of who I am and who God has made me to be. Because there have been moments in this last season of life, as God has been sowing the deep “being” lessons in my heart, when I’ve pretty much lost sight of how I might ever “do” for Him again. deanna teaching

Humorously enough, the topic I was asked to speak to was A Heart For Christ: longing to know Him more. The very same thing God has been talking with me about for the last season of life. And further adding to the chuckles, the only concrete instruction from the conference organizers about what to address was, “We don’t want to add to the students’ to-do lists, by piling on suggestions of disciplines for them to do.” Hmmm. They wanted me to speak on the dynamic of “being” with God, not just “doing” for Him. The very thing I’ve exhausted so much time and energy on gaining for myself. Confluence, indeed.

I am including a link to the talk, for those who might want to hear how it went.

A Heart For Christ – longing to know Him more, Deanna Davis, 9.26.15.

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Finally Getting My Heart And My Body In The Same Place

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And here I am, speaking at my home church. It was a special moment for me.

It was kind of funny…and one of those ironic-God-is-chuckling-at-me moments. At the close of last year’s ladies luncheon at my home church of Kennesaw First Baptist, a friend asked me an interesting question. She was curious how it felt for me, sitting in the audience, knowing that I could be up there speaking. While I was honored that she thought me capable of it, without thinking very long at all, I said, “They’ll never ask.”

First of all, I didn’t think anyone at church really knew who I was, my gifting, or what I do.  I didn’t feel very “seen” or “known”. While I am blessed to occasionally travel to teach to college ministries, to other women’s groups, and in Europe, and while I love, love, love the college students I get to work with every week in Sunday school, I sometimes feel like I haven’t really found my place at my home church just yet. It’s that weird loneliness-in-a-crowd feeling we all have experienced at some point. In fact, my last few years have involved a lot of soul-searching about my identity (Who exactly am I?), about God’s calling on my life (What exactly am I doing here?), and about how to get my heart and my body in the same place…because, while I live in Kennesaw…to be honest, most of the time, my heart has been somewhere else.

And second, while I am not exactly sure what a “ladies luncheon” speaker is, I am pretty sure I am not that. I’m a Bible teacher. A messy one too. I talk about matters of the heart, and our inner world – the complicated, deeply broken places inside each of us that only we and God see – and how God wants to meet us there. I focus on those seasons of life when things get really dark, of what it looks like to walk with Jesus in pain, and how it can cause the ground to disappear underneath us. I wrestle with deep existential questions of the faith that defy black and white answers. And while the goal is to let the struggle lead us to intimacy with Jesus and the joy available to us as we let Him do His work in our hearts…such joy is often seasoned with a lot of tears along the way. Hardly the stuff of polite conversation over chicken salad and fruit.

P1010530So, imagine my shock when the leaders in our church’s women’s ministry asked me to be the speaker at this year’s event. I was incredibly honored. And humbled. And more than a little terrified. Because getting in front of people and vulnerably pouring your heart out, opening yourself up to criticism and risking epic fails in public…it is one thing to do it in another city or on another continent…it is very different to do it in front of people you see every week and who teach your kids’ Sunday school class.

But I gave it a go. Because deep down, even with the fear of failure, even with my concern over whether or not I would be what the ladies expected or wanted…I really do want to be known. I really do want to be at home where I am. I really do want to learn to be fully present where I live, and to also be fully who I am among those I do life with on a regular basis. And somehow I knew that offering my story and gifting to the women in my church and community would be an important step on my journey to all of those things.

And a funny thing happened that day. As I walked onto the platform…at the same time… it felt like I finally arrived home. It has been a long time coming, with many other “homecoming” events along the way, but this was a big one. Somehow, my heart and my body…long in a bit of an adversarial relationship, finally made peace with each other. The experience wasn’t as much about what I do, as being who I am, where I am. I wish I could explain it more fully than that, but…I’m pretty sure I got much more out of that day than anyone sitting in the audience.

Click here to link to the talk I gave , if you would like to hear it. It is titled The Wise Woman. It is in 3 parts. I love how it came out. 

The Beauty (and Sneakiness) of Ordinary

I’ve known for a long time that I’m kind of ordinary. In fact, I’ve spent a lot of time and energy wrestling through this depressing truth. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I know all the “right” responses to this…”There’s only ever been one of me in all of history”, “God made me special”, “If I were the only photo-13person on earth, Jesus would have still come for me”, “No one shares my fingerprint or DNA, literally and metaphorically”, etc, etc etc.

It’s just that my culture of famous, notable ministers, of passionate coffee-drinking, creative/hipsters changing the world, and social media allowing me to see it all, have combined to give me a deeply entrenched inferiority complex, leading to some rather profound spiritual wounding. Those with intense and successful ministries, tell me that to really be a disciple of Jesus, my life must be radical. My deeds awesome. My sacrifice epic. In fact, they use their personal examples of how God has used them, to encourage me to pursue great things for my great God. And I agree with almost everything they say, even as I come up short by comparison. Then, there are creative/hipsters out there who live these amazingly interesting lives pursuing their dreams…and who inadvertently shame me for, ironically enough, financially supporting their creativity through my consumption and encouragement of their attempts to change the world.  Then, Facebook lets me see glimpses of other’s extraordinary lives that look so much more meaningful and, honestly, more fun, than mine… that my heart, immediately and without too much of a push, goes to some dark and self-condemning places.

It isn’t hard to see how I could begin to think, “Hmmm…this says something about how God feels about me… that His plan for me is so…ordinary.”

What bothers me most is not that I will never win a Nobel prize, or build an orphanage in Asia, or lead a movement-starting ministry. It is that God has called me to be ordinary. As far as I know, I am not living a disobedient life to my Savior. And as a result of my faithfulness to Him, I live in a rather nondescript suburb of a pretty average city. I am pursuing an important, but not a particularly world-shaking profession. I go to a healthy and loving local church, but we aren’t pumping out best-selling books, hosting large conference or creating paradigm shifting worship albums. My personal ministry is very fulfilling, but no one will look at my “numbers” and do anything but yawn. Most of my days are spent getting kids off to school, cooking and cleaning, driving, bed time routines, conversation and Parks And Rec reruns with my husband in between it all.

I am ordinary. By both providential calling and gifting. Sigh.

What I’m finding though, is that ordinary can be beautiful. And learning to find Jesus and His love in the ordinary parts of life is actually a most extraordinary pursuit. Because, while ordinary is where I live, it is where Jesus lives too.

In the naps, in the snuggles, in the casseroles, in the traffic jams, in the coffee, in the time spent pairing up socks.

He is enough. I am enough. 

There is beauty in the sacrifice required to be a parent to kids day in day out, in learning to put the needs of another in front of my own and learning to enjoy it even. There is beauty in being fully present at my church every Sunday…faithfully worshipping God, serving others, offering my gifts, and receiving the gifts of others. There is beauty in a marriage that is best represented by an open front door, a well-used kitchen table, a refrigerator with kids’ report cards and artwork stuck to it, and a bed that my beloved husband and I have decided will only, and ever be, just for the two us to share. There is beauty in following Jesus as best as I know how in the middle of all of this.

Most healing…most growth…most blessings…are found in the ordinary places of our lives. And the gift wrap they come in is the ordinary people and relationships that we often overlook. “Ordinary” can be sneaky that way.

Not everyone gets to change the world. But everyone can be changed.  Jesus extends the invitation to become more like Him, (which is indeed quite extraordinary) in the midst of our ordinariness. And it is a goal that everyone has the potential to reach. I can be a success in His eyes, in my eyes, by being exactly who He has created me to be, exactly where He has placed me, doing exactly what He has asked me to do.

Micah 6:8 He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.


 

The greatest love stories are those that play out all around us in the middle of ordinary.  An Ed Sheeran song, of all things, gives beautiful words to this in a wonderful married person’s love song. He sings, “We found love right where we are.” Most of us do, you know.

If you haven’t seen The Lego Movie yet, what are you waiting for? It is a celebration of how ordinary is often a sneaky cover for extraordinary. And, I totally could have given this speech.

 

What Does My Calendar Say About The Condition Of My Heart? (Jesus pt. 105)

I was talking with an acquaintance in ministry a few years ago.  A very high energy, dynamic leader with great capacity, a lot on his resume and at the time, a lot on his calendar and metaphorical “plate”.  He was ‘crushing’ it in ministry, with quite a few ‘trophies’ on the shelf to show for years of hardthat's just dumb and dedicated work.  I am confident that his desire was absolutely to do God’s will, to advance the kingdom, and to bless others. By any reasonable standard, he is a success at what he does.  Yet, in the course of our conversation, I heard him, while not in these words exactly, pray this idea, “Oh God, help me sustain an unsustainable pace.”

I was so sad.  And a little angry.  Because this prayer crystallized for me so much of what is wrong with us, with our ministries, with our spirituality, with our culture.  Busyness replacing relationship. The arrogance of thinking one is the exception to the limits we all have.  Basing one’s worth on the product produced, the effort offered, the “trophy” to show for it all. Falling into the comparison trap with others.  I know this from personal experience.  Our calendars offer a remarkable window into the condition of our hearts. Into our thoughts about who we think God is.  Into our thoughts about who we think we are. 

Years ago, I was trying to find a way to juggle the responsibilities of full time ministry while living overseas, being a wife, and a mother of 3 under the age of 8, with one of them under a year old.  I recognized the uniqueness of that particular season of life…and I was terrified of failing.  FYI – whenever you are afraid, pay attention, because often, fear is telling you something on the inside of you needs attention.  Another FYI – most of us do not operate from a place of freedom and security, in the knowledge that God’s grace is enough and we do not have to earn His approval.  Instead, we do the tasks in our lives because we are afraid of something: failing, the disapproval of others, not being enough, being alone, of being still and quiet, of empty time on the calendar, rejection, insignificance, etc.  My fear was/is failing.

So when I ended up at a conference with other women who were in the same field as me, I looked around for someone who was doing it well.  Balancing the demands of the work, faith and family, staying sane, both cultivating a spirituality and depth that was not only healthy, but looked like something I might want to emulate.  When I found her, (a very cool 50-something with a nose ring, by the way) I asked for a bit of time, to pick her brain about this: How can I do all that God has asked me to do? Because honestly, if I think about all the needs, all the possibilities, all the people out there who need Jesus and me…I’m a little overwhelmed.  I was looking for some type of strategy to help me manage it all.

You know, Jesus was asked the same question.  In Mark 12, a religious leader came to Him and asked, ““Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”.  Here was a teacher of the law, very aware that, in his paradigm of the faith, he had well over 600 laws to obey each and every day. Imagine! I’m actually tired and overwhelmed just thinking about what his life and religious practice must have looked like.  The guilt.  The fear of failure. Of comparison to others. Of not being good enough. I suspect his internal monologue and mine, bear a striking resemblance, emphasizing inadequacy and judgment. Because…while I don’t have a quantified list of 600+ things-to-do-today-to-make-Jesus-happy-with-me…I kind of do.

And then there is the phrase “most important”.  In Greek, it is the word “protos”, where we get our English word, “priority”. I think that part of what the teacher of the law is asking is, “Jesus, what I have to do is so much, I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail somewhere. So tell me, if I only get one or two things done, what is the most important? What should my “protos” be? What should get the first of my energy and effort, so that my priorities are not mis-ordered?”

Jesus answered Him with a surprisingly short to-do list.  In fact, Jesus pretty much said, “Oh busy one, you are asking the wrong question. Instead of asking about task, you should be asking about relationship.” Jesus answered with, “The most important one…is to love Me…”  Our protos, our most important task, above all others, that which should get the first and best of our time, energy and attention,  is to be in a healthy relationship with God. That’s pretty much it. He isn’t the one asking us to get a lot done for Him. We are.  His to-do list for us is a one item-er.  Healthy relationship.  With Him. And by extension, with others.

Flash forward to the women’s conference I was at, and the older woman’s response to my question, “How do I do it all?” She simply said, “I just figured out years ago, that what God wants me to do is almost always less than what I think it is.” She was gently telling me that I was asking the wrong question.  Rather than asking how I could get it all done, she said, “Why don’t you ask God what He wants you to do. And then ask Him how He wants you to do that.”

I left that conversation changed.   I’ve been attempting to purse better questions about my spiritual life ever since.  Jesus seems to love a really good question, by the way.  Right now, He and I are discussing this one:

What does my calendar say about the condition of my heart? 

(Or if I really wanted to get brave, I could ask my family what they think my calendar says about how I feel about them.)

Because, how we choose to use our time, energy and resources says an awful lot about what is going on inside of us.

 

Making Things Round

I was leading a women’s retreat in Germany this past weekend.  It was a wonderful time to say a joyful “hello” to beloved friends whom I had to say a tearful”goodbye” to years ago.  And during this time, I learned a beautiful German phrase and concept that has deeply blessed me.  About halfway through, I asked a friend how she felt it was going, and she answered, “It isn’t round yet.”  What she meant was, the circle wasn’t closed. The start was good, and she could see the intended trajectory.  But the story of open circleour time together, of the material we were talking about, of what it might mean to her personally, was still open and not quite finished.  It needed some closure to be able to hold it properly.

As I walk with Jesus through the life He has planned for me, I’m learning that He isn’t nearly as uncomfortable with un-roundness as I am. In fact, the discomfort of unfinished things seems to be a primary shaping tool He uses to lovingly heal and grow His children.

Of course, sometimes prayers get answered in the way we want. Lives move forward. Decisions get made and get made well.  People grow and transition to whatever is next.  Progress can be seen.  Joy in the past, in the now and in the potential future is experienced.  Things become round all the time, and will become ultimately so upon His return…all this is cause for great celebration.

But then…there are the dreams that are birthed with the best of intentions, and then get shattered just within grasp.  Disappointment with God’s plans, unanswered questions, the unknown ‘why’ behind a painful ‘what’.  Loss.  Grief.  Shame.  Seasons of life, difficult relationships, wounded people…sometimes they can be like rocks in the middle of a river…instead of moving downstream with the rest of us, life just flows on around them. They are awkwardly stuck in an unfinished place for all to see…and people pass on by, wondering why they can’t move on like everyone else. At least that is how some un-roundness in my life has felt to me.

My experience with life in Europe has been an un-round thing for me for a while now.  Coming to grips with the reality that we will not be able to return in the near future, watching that dream die and seeing that God’s plans for us are different than we thought…I’ve been wrestling with the almost universal mid-life experience of realizing that important external elements of my life are not what I would choose for myself.  At the same time, I’ve been attempting to walk in the very individual experience of realizing that the most important, internal elements of my life are very much within my control. My character.  My responses. My spiritual orientation – towards Him or away from Him. In the face of disappointment, will I become better or bitter? Will I create with what I’m given, or consume?  Will I take responsibility for my own personal/heart growth, and choose a life that is spiritually and emotionally healthy for myself and others…or will I choose to continue the destructive patterns and life strategies that have hurt me and those I love for so long?

Even when we think we don’t have choice, we always have choice.

These are some of the tensions that have been stretching me for a few years now: opening my hands and letting go of good things, so that Jesus can fill them with better things.   Learning how painful a chisel must be to marble, yet what a joy the resulting beauty must be. Embracing the truth that pain can be a fertilizer that grows the most beautiful things in my heart.

When we are stretched…we never go back to our original size.  And now, after walking through a prolonged season of stretching that has lasted years… my trip back to Germany, where so much of my stretching began, has allowed me to see that I am bigger.  My heart is bigger. The Jesus I know is bigger. How He works in my life is bigger. God has allowed me to come full circle, and I am grateful for the relief and release that comes from the closure of it.

At the end of our weekend retreat, my friend let me know that the themes of our weekend did eventually become round.  (As a Bible teacher, that was so great to hear!)  What a gift to me to realize that I did too.

 

Living With “The Face”

I was talking with some friends of mine who have what we humorously called, “The Face”. “The Face” is how we described that intangible thing about a person that evidently invites people, sometimes friends, and sometimes people you don’t even know, to open up and begin telling you their stuff.  Sometimes their very personal stuff.  Sometimes at really awkward times.

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This photo captures a young me, learning something about the art of listening with a delightful German student.

There was the time when I was in the express line at Wal-mart – and the cashier began telling me about her upcoming second marriage and how she felt about it, how the first one didn’t work out, how her mother wasn’t being supportive… and I seem to recall something about tattoos.  Did I mention I was in the express line? Which is not exactly the place where long-term relationships form. One friend, a former airline attendant, told us about her many stories of, what she called, “Jump seat therapy,” where passengers sitting next to her on take-off or landing spilled their guts…and then walked off the plane.  She would tell them, “Buh-bye,” in standard flight attendant speak, and think, “Wow. I know waaaaaay too much about you.”

We also shared stories of how, in our circle of friends, we would end up in the deep end of the conversational pool, often without even trying, sometimes when we didn’t mean or want to.  And how sometimes, we sort of felt used, even by people we loved, even as we loved the practice of being authentic with each other.

In light of all this, I have realized how my love for people and really great conversation (Which is the basis of all of this.) has, at times, had the somewhat ironic effect of turning me into an even greater introvert. (As if I needed a push.)  The reason?  If it seems most every conversation holds the potential to turn into a gut-wrenching, tearful sob fest, well…some days it is just easier to stay home. (And, side note, I’m finding that this tendency can make people begin to avoid me – which, because I love people, is something I would like to avoid.) We then chuckled a bit, relieved there were others like us out there, and wondered what it was that regularly led people to pour their hearts out to us.  Recently, I think I named part of the reason.

One of the greatest gifts we can give another person is the gift of being present with them.  Of our undivided attention.   When we tell someone else, with our eyes, our body language, our facial expressions, the stories we choose to share, with a well-worded and timed question…that says “I see you.  I hear what you are saying, even beneath the actual words you are using.  I am interested in you.  In this moment, you are more important to me than my phone, than watching what is going on behind you, than me thinking about what I’m going to say to you next.  I am here with you. And I am listening.”  (My friends and I called it “The Face, but we probably should call it “The Heart” because that is a more accurate description of what it actually is.) Some have a natural curiosity and affection for people…and it shows up in their face and heart. Bumping up against it can be a powerful experience for some.  As I’ve met people with this gift, their presence, interest in, and affection for me often surfaces deep emotion in me too.

When we are seen, heard, loved…hearts open up.  No wonder deeply personal stuff sometimes comes spilling out…even if it wasn’t the plan for either of us. When I pay attention to how people normally interact with each other, I realize that this type of dedicated and focused interaction can be kind of rare.  I find this sad, because I think God created us to communicate this way much more often than we do.

And so the next question my friends and I discussed was, if you’ve got “The Face,”…how do you survive?  Because, as much as we love people and interacting with them,  it isn’t always appropriate, or safe for every conversation to descend to the depths of one’s soul.  Besides being potentially inconvenient or awkward, (or sometimes even dangerous) it can be exhausting.  And we realized that people who are good listeners, who have something to give, sometimes attract unhealthy people who may use them for their relational gifts.

Therefore, here are some thoughts on how to walk the line between being a good listener, an interested conversationalist and decent human being who loves and enjoys people –  and staying healthy and safe while doing it.

1. Choice: We should always have choice in where our conversations go.  If you feel like you don’t, it is probably a conversation you should end, or a conversational partner you might want to avoid.  Some people are relational black holes…and their gravity will suck the life out of you if you aren’t careful.

2. Mutuality: Conversations should be two-way streets, with both parties giving and receiving, talking and listening.  If they aren’t, it isn’t a conversation, but a monologue.  (Or a counseling session, which is a completely different thing.) Except in those periodic circumstances when it is appropriate for the conversation to be about one person and their needs, if you find your dialogue descending into monologue, you probably want to find a way to end it.

3. Learn to turn it off: I am learning that, just because I am interested, just because I know the right “next” question to continue a train of thought into deeper places, just because I may hear the emotional subtext sitting underneath someone’s actual words, it doesn’t meant I have to go there with them.  I don’t have to ask the next question.  In fact, it can be a very freeing and healthy thing to learn to turn my conversational radar off and just be in a moment with someone – without looking for or trying to control where it might go.  This, however means I must continue to learn #4.

4. Learn the joys of small talk: I am not a natural small talker.  Most of the time, I would prefer not talk at all, as opposed to talking about nothing.  (Over the years, Sunday mornings at church has ruined me in this area – we go there to meet with Jesus and each other in authenticity…and we waste the time talking college football, the weather and the last movie we saw…I digress, and mini-rant over.) I continue to learn that small talk can be a beautiful thing for all involved, and is in no way an indication of being a shallow person.  It may just mean I am a “person.”  And here is a big lesson…hours of pleasant and healthy small talk are actually very valuable.  They plant the seeds of safety, of affection, of learning about one’s life and relational style, so that if or when a deeper conversation comes around, we are both ready for it.

5. Think about the greater love: There are people in my life whom I love deeply, and to whom I want to give the first of my relational and emotional energy.  If I know my resources are limited, then it is irresponsible for me to give away to others, what belongs to those in my closest circles.  Sometimes I need to avoid or shut down certain conversations if I know it will drain away energy I will need for someone or something else.

6. Find your “life-giving cocktail” and drink it regularly.  If one wants to have meaningful conversations, one must first have something worthwhile to say. (Unfortunately, this is an often overlooked practice in our conversations.) What is it that breathes life into you, that generates substance, character, depth, ideas, curiosity and love for others? For me, over the years I have found the practices (or cocktail) of solitude (which is different from isolation), intentional reading, and exercise do this for me.  Afterwards, I want to be with people more.  (And people seem to want to be with me more too.) When I am healthier, there is more of me to offer.  I suspect each person has a different “life-giving cocktail.” My point is not for anyone to copy mine, but to find their own.  And drink it regularly.

As I write these things, I find myself a bit torn.  At times, the idea of strategically thinking through this part of my life can seem kind of cold and calculating.  However, I want to be the best me I can be and I want to be a blessing to others in my relational circles.  And, as I age, I realize have less energy, less margin, and less time left on the earth with which to work.  In light of all this, I must learn to be a wise steward and manager of all God has given me…including my “face”.

“I’m Not Unaffected By This” (Being Human pt. 9)

Recently I was in a conversation with an acquaintance and something happened that caught me off guard. A little background… This person isn’t a long time friend. Our relationship is a relatively new one, so when I talk with him, I am more of an unknown quantity than with y’all who have known me for years, either in person or via blog. And it was a situation where the content of the conversation wasn’t really up to me. It was one of those sort-of-forced-sharing times, where a topic that is deeper than normal small talk comes up.

This particular day, it was safe and it was appropriate, so I decided to go there, to bare something of my soul and share a somewhat complicated story of how God had recently worked in my life. But this time, contrary to my normal modus operandi, I didn’t have all my storytelling ducks in a row. I missed parts and messed up the sequence of events. I talked in sort of a quiet monotone, which is very different from my large group speaking voice. I even looked at some rough notes I had scribbled down and read part of it verbatim. I wasn’t trying to wow him with my story. I wasn’t trying to teach anything. I wasn’t test driving an idea to use in a later teaching time or blog post. I was just taking the opportunity before me to release a little pressure on my soul and communicate from the heart with someone sitting right in front of me, someone who had really asked how I was doing.

After I finished, this acquaintance had a stunned look on his face. Initially, I was very concerned that he was about to reject me or my story. His response landed powerfully on my heart. He said, “Deanna, I’m not unaffected by this.”

As I thought about his meaning, I realized that he had just told me something very important. He was letting me know that my story and my life had power. Its effects were rippling across the table to where he was. It wasn’t that I was trying to do this. It wasn’t that my methods were the most effective. It was that God had inhabited my story and energized it. And when I took a chance to share it, He used it in the life of another.

As a result, I’ve spent some time thinking about the role God plays in our stories. Sometimes we throw our words around as if they aren’t really powerful, as if they were ours to own and control. Yet sometimes God claims what is His – our stories and our words, our personalities and the style in which we talk, and He gives it more power than it has on its own. He applies it to another’s heart. He uses us to affect them.

This is the part of communication that is outside of our control. We can prepare for it. We can pray for it. But we can’t command it to happen. Sometimes God makes our stories more than just OUR stories. Sometimes He reclaims them as HIS stories.

Being human means we have stories. We hear stories. And they affect us. Or not, if we choose to close our hearts down and be unaffected.

Being human means we can choose to enter into this messy part of our humanity with others – by sharing our stories and by opening ourselves up to being affected by their stories. Or not. I am thinking these days about how to allow myself to be affected. And how to be available should God choose to use me to affect others.