This is My Story

When I was a senior in high school, I gave my "Christian Testimony" at a Young Life meeting . . .

. . . not because I had had some big Road to Damascus experience that I could not keep to myself. In fact, when I was approached by one of the leaders to do this, I said, "There's no story." No movie-of-the-week-worthy traumas. No scary secret life. Nobody had died, been abused, gone without necessities, been neglected. No wrecked cars, wrecked lives. Not even a wrecked bedroom. (I was a very tidy child.)

The worst thing that had happened to me was The Wisdom Tooth Incident. Trust me, it was nothing. Oh, and I once walked through a sliding glass window at the beach. I don't remember any cool God connection with either of those experiences.

So, at the Young Life meeting, I said something not-so-memorable, and that was that. I probably cried, because that's what I do.

Zip ahead several decades and I find that I love to hear (authentic) spiritual testimonies. I prefer to call them Faith Stories. Last night at Holy Grounds, I shared mine.

This time, there was more to talk about.

I chose to share the definitive event that moved me to choose professional ministry, rather than offer a whole alpha to omega rundown of My Life So Far. Without sharing the details, I will say that my faith story includes

• the death of Elvis


• a camp fire


• betrayal, drooling, a loss of 30 pounds.
  

Other than that, it's your basic

• Girl-Grows-Up-In-Church-with-Seemingly-Perfect Family,


• Girl-Experiences-Disappointment-and-Idiotic-Pastors,


• Girl-Meets-Jesus,


• Jesus-Says-Go-to-Seminary.

We had a relatively small group meeting for Holy Grounds last evening, which is probably for the best. My daughter, the designated techie, learned something new about her mother when she played the CD of songs I burned that best reflects my little life. (We didn't get to the semi-raucous one, which is - again - probably for the best.)

Building community requires hearing each other's stories. This is something the traditional church has sometimes forgotten, as some people don't dare share the not-so-perfect chapters. (I once knew a pillar-of-the-church couple who refrained from telling their church "family" that Their Oldest Son Had Died of AIDS over the summer .)

This is why 12 Step Groups are sometimes better at being the church than the church is.

So . . . what's your story? My hope over the next year or so is to encourage our congregation to share theirs.

Fabric art is "The Story of My Life" by Maira Kalman.