Stories to tell...

I have been thinking a lot about the situation that played out with Max. I’m starting to think my struggle was not in my lack of faith, but because I didn’t stick with what God has given me to share: my story.

I was listening to a radio talk-show a few weeks ago and they were interviewing Lee Strobel. Lee was the former legal editor for the Chicago Tribune and a devout atheist. After spending two years investigating the evidence for Jesus, he became a believer and has since become one of the most recognized apologists in the evangelical Christian community. Strobel has spent hundreds of hours researching and discovering historical proof that Jesus is who He claimed to be, the Son of God. He has devoted a good portion of his adult life discussing and answering questions just like Max’s, and many more. Knowing all this about Lee Strobel and having read one of His books, The Case for Faith, I was interested in hearing what he had to say. As I listened, he didn’t talk about the apologetics for which he is well-know, but instead discussed how we are all given a story, our testimony, of what God has done and is doing in us, and it’s our responsibility to tell it. He related it to the Apostle Paul who gave his own testimony whenever allowed the opportunity. When Paul was brought before kings and courts, he told them his story. He let the transforming power of God be the evidence of God’s realness and truth. He let what God had done be the telling sign that He is real, He is God. That’s the gospel – Jesus saving and transforming lives.

I realized after thinking about my encounter with Max that while theological and historical arguments are good in the right place and right time, they are not where I find proof of my faith. The proof I possess is the saving and transforming power of Jesus in my life. That’s it. It seems simple, and in some ways it is simple, but still so amazing.

And what’s better is that no one, NO one, can tell me I’m wrong. It’s my story. It’s the story of a beautiful and amazing God reaching for me, even when I hated Him. It’s the story of a broken girl who thought she had a better plan, who ran down a road of pitfalls and deceit, one that guided her straight into the arms of hopelessness. And when she had no where else to go but down, she fell on her face before a God she didn’t really believe in (that same God who was reaching for her), asked for help, and had Him show up in miraculous ways. It’s my Damascus Road, and it’s true. I know it’s true because I lived it. I’m still living it. He’s still changing me and twisting me around and turning me on my ear at times, just so I can get His perspective, so I can see and understand His heart. Jesus is still transforming me.

You have your own story, your own Damascus Road. Yours may not be as dramatic as mine, at least it may not appear to be from the outside, but I bet it’s more moving than you think. Consider…what God has done for you and in you, and what He’s still doing. Meditate on the ways you’ve seen God moving in and transforming your life, and then SHARE it with someone. It’s your story, and it’s all the proof someone might need to believe. The gospel, living and breathing in you.