Making up stories. Telling the truth.

Tell Me Another

I don’t tend to get attached to things. My nostalgia-o-meter may be broken.

Seriously I’m over here like, First grade macaroni art? That was years ago; let’s let this go. Backyard clubhouse my dad built? This thing is a rotting deathtrap; burn it. A great, great aunt’s collection of fabric scraps? Why do we even have this?

Somebody—I hope—is reading this and nodding with me, thinking Yes, girl. Same. But I know some of you are reading this and going You cold-hearted monster. Okay, I’ll own that.

But lemme tell you a story. My sister Allie has a one-year-old little girl named Emerson. Emerson and I, not to brag, are buddies. So because we’re buddies, not long ago I sat on the floor with her while we watched a kiddie program. As we sat, I found myself getting pulled into this show. I don’t know how it happened.

There was a princess, and she was still learning how to be a princess, and in her moment of victory, I found myself getting choked up. Like I had to pause and take a moment. The emotions in a preschool animated musical got to be too much, and I had to pull up and do some focused breathing. Me. The unsentimentalist.

My buddy, Emerson. Seen here probably making a wise observation about life.

My buddy, Emerson. Seen here probably making a wise observation about life.

You know who made fun of me in that moment? My grown adult mom and sister. And do you know who else? Nobody else, because Emerson is an emotional person and showed a mature amount of empathy.

All right, it was super funny.

It occurred to me (and Emerson, probably) that I did not become affected when I saw a picture of that animated princess. My eyes didn’t well up when I read the show’s description. Or when I learned her name. Nothing about that silly show came anywhere close to touching me on a deep level until I learned her story. Until I saw her struggle. Until I knew her kind little princess heart.

I do not connect very well or very often to things. But I can connect to a story.

Do you wonder sometimes about the different ways God could’ve chosen to relate to us?

  • ·         He could have said “I am God, and you are human. Worship me.” And that would’ve been right and just. But we wouldn’t have known Him.
  • ·         He could have said, “If you possess this amulet or such and such trinket, or say these words to this statue, you may know My favor.”
  • ·         He could’ve looked at us and been altogether like, “Nah.” But He didn’t.

He gave us His story.

From the beginning of time, through the Old Testament, to the cross, the resurrection, to the revelation, He loves us so much, has such a desire to connect with us, He wrote it down. The places. The people. The evidence. The truth. Does that blow your mind? That blows my mind!

Sometimes I get so caught up in mining the Bible for “What is right in this situation?” and “How does this apply to my life?” that I miss the joy of being swept up by God’s own history. I forget to marvel over and revel in the God who is present in every page, in every story, in every moment He chose specially to preserve for millennia so my human tinymind could process even a fraction of an understanding of who Jesus Christ is. Deep breath.

Am I getting emotional now? Emerson, get the tissues!

Wonder at these things with me:

  • ·         What we have is not a religion of relics we have to search out.
  • ·         What we have is not a boss wearing a nametag or a lord bearing a title instead of providing an introduction.
  • ·         We have a God who gave us His stories.
  • ·         We have a Friend who invites us to know Him.
  • ·         We have a Father who proves He has known us since before we knew anything.

All that gets to this cold-hearted monster’s heart every time.

“Let this be recorded for a generation to come, so that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord.” Psalm 102:18-22


*Adapted from Messy to Meaningful: Lessons from the Junk Drawer

*Photo credit: Allie McMullin

Kaley RheaComment