everyone's life is a story

I have a small group of 6 eighth-grade girls that I "lead." I use the term "lead" very loosely, as I think I've learned more about myself because I spend time with them rather than them actually learning from me. To kick off the lovely year of 2009, the junior high staff at church has asked us to talk about sexuality in order to coincide with the series they are doing on Sunday mornings. Now, here's a question...does anyone out there really have the desire to talk to middle schoolers about sexuality? There certainly are people out there that do, I'm sure--and if you had asked me if I was one of them a month ago, I would have said no.

A few weeks ago, my girls wanted to have a sleepover one night on a long weekend. I thought it would be fun, so we scheduled it for Sunday night. We started the night with our first group discussion about sexuality. Not 15 minutes into our chat, one of my girls looked me straight in the face and asked me a point-blank question about my story that left me no wiggle room. I chose to be honest with them, and I told the girls a small part of my story that I don't really like talking about, a part that I feel marks me and disgraces me. As I sat there telling them about what happened and what God's done with my heart in the aftermath of it all, I knew there was a reason I had this group. I didn't know it at the time I was telling them my story, but I can say this now: For the first time in my life, I actually believe that my story could be used for good. Now, is it still hard? Do I still believe lies about myself because of what happened? The answer to both questions is yes. But, in the midst of all that, I think I'm beginning to see what redemption might look like for my story.

A year ago, I did this "reflection exercise" at the start of 2008. Part of the exercise involved spending time writing about the events of the past year and then asking God to show you a theme for the upcoming year. In my journal, I wrote that 2008 would be a year for healing. At the time, I thought healing would mean peace, calm, and relaxation. I couldn't have been more wrong about that. Now, I can see that healing for me required walking through some deep, dark valleys, valleys that I'm still trying to navigate through. Just a few weeks ago, before my girls asked me about my story, I did a similar exercise. I journaled about the past year so I could make sure I got all the events and emotions on paper. I wrote about healing, and how I saw that theme woven through the past year. As I started to think about this coming year, one word kept coming to mind: redemption. Just a week after I put that word on paper, my girls asked me about my story. Kind of mind-blowing, in my opinion.

[You are a story. You are not merely the possessor and teller of a number of stories; you are a will-written, intentional story that is authored by the greatest Writer of all time.]