As a child I was fascinated by the sentence “Once upon a time”. That was all I needed to be drawn to a book. What would this story reveal? Was it going to be good or bad? Who would I meet? What was it all about? Was it going to have a happy end, or a sad one? Or maybe both? What kinds of adventure would I be part of? Where would it take me? I would gladly spend hours trying to find out.

When I was a teenager and became a Christian, I was gripped by different kinds of stories. I was amazed to read how real people had encountered God and how He had transformed their lives. I read the account of Jim Elliot and his friend who were killed whilst in the mission field and how his wife ended up going back to witness to the same people who had killed her husband (Through Gates of Splendor). I read the account of how Joni Eareckson Tada was paralyzed age 17 after a diving accident and was confined to a wheelchair and how she has found joy in the middle of her trials because of Jesus (Joni). I lost myself reading Corri Ten Boom story of how her whole family was devasted by war and the accounts of her time in a concentration camp. I particularly remember the episode about the fleas. How could she have seen that as a blessing? (The Hiding Place).

I found myself wondering time and time again, how could it be possible that there are people that love Jesus that much that they will praise Him and tell their stories to witness about His goodness and His faithfulness. Their stories had great impact in my faith. I wanted to have the same faith they had but I certainly wasn’t anything special. How could I ever tell my story. Nothing dramatic had happened to me that caused me so much pain and suffering. I couldn’t see that anyone would be interested in my story.

That might have been true. In fact it was. I will come back to this.

As I grew older I started taking interest in hearing people’s testimonies. I still enjoyed reading about it, but there was something special about hearing someone say how God changed them. Through years in my church in Brazil I heard people sharing how God had provided for their needs - a cheque posted by a long lost friend that arrived precisely at the moment it was needed and even more amazingly, for the correct amount needed. A broken down car that lead to conversations by the road side that helped someone come to faith. How God had provided the correct medication needed to treat an infection in the middle of a jungle whilst visiting missionary friends. People would talk about God’s goodness and describe “normal” situations, such as passing the entrance exam to a University, a new job, a break from looking after very frail elderly parents to recharge, a new Christian friend at work. I could go on and on. I realised that the people sharing their testimonies were like me. Nothing really dramatic had happened to them. But there was a difference. They were not telling their story, they were telling His.

I thought for a long time no one would want to hear my story because it was not dramatic enough or interesting enough. You see, I was thinking about my life, the little “me”. The people that caught my attention when they shared “their” testimony, they talked about Jesus. How He had written, moulded, changed, perfected, designed their story. This was also true about Jim Elliot (actually, his wife told his story), Joni Eareckson Tada and Corrie Ten Boom. They captivated millions because they talked about Jesus.

The Apostle Paul says in Philippians 1:12-13:

Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard^[and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. (emphasis mine)

In John 4:28-30 we read:

Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people,  “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?”  They came out of the town and made their way toward him. (emphasis mine)

There are plenty more examples in the Bible and all of them point to how God is writing His story through people’s lives. I understood that I needed to tell the story of how Jesus changed me. How He helped me in the little things every day. How He still loved me even when I didn’t obey His commands or did the right thing. There is a song by Casting Crowns called “Make Room” and the the chorus has a line that says: “Is there room in your heart for God to write His story?” Every time I hear that song it makes me think of Philippians 1:6 “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” God is at work in me.

One day I was asked to share my “testimony” in church and that was the first time I sat down to think of how God was writing His story in my life. No dramatic encounters, no lightning flashing, nothing of the sort. Only the irresistible Saviour breaking down my heart of stone and giving me a new one. Showing me how much I really needed Him and that nothing I could do would bring me to Him. He had come down to Save me. When I finished reading it to myself I could not contain the tears. God is good, merciful, faithful, powerful, Saviour and He loves me. He loves me. I cannot tell my story any more because I am His. My whole life belongs to Him and His story is worth listening to.

How is Jesus writing His story in your life?

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