by Sue Eenigenburg
Everyone has at least one story to tell, and probably more. It could be an amazing thing God has done. Maybe the Lord saw you through a time of deep sorrow or confusion. Sometimes something funny happens, like a language blooper or cultural blunder. When we share our stories, we feel less alone. Sharing our stories builds community.
Stories affect us differently than facts. Facts teach us information, while stories touch our souls. We still learn, but we do so with heartfelt warmth and understanding. We hear another person’s experience, and our perspective changes. We can empathize. We can celebrate. We can relate, because when we hear another’s story, we realize we aren’t isolated in our own. Stories don’t have to be dramatic or amazing. They can be simple and still memorable.
Jesus told stories that people could relate to. He didn’t just teach truth but used stories to illustrate what truth looked like. He wanted people to experience “aha” moments.
God speaks to my heart in the stories I live out. The older I get, the more stories I have that point to God’s faithfulness, patience, and kindness. As I share my stories with others, I pray that my stories touch their lives. I invite them to join me in acknowledging that God is the author of all our stories. We aren’t on our own—even when it looks and feels that way.
In Bags Packed, Hearts Ready, I share stories of God’s faithfulness to me. Like the time when a technician left me in an MRI tunnel long after the machine had stopped. I was securely strapped in and unable to move much. I tried calling out, but no one answered. I counted slowly to one hundred before I pushed the panic button. And when I pushed it no one came, which caused me to panic! I was starting to try and wiggle my way towards escape when finally, someone came and let me out.
Another time it was the middle of the night, and I was wide awake weeping. Sitting on my bed in Spain, I was texting with my sister and my dad who were in Ohio. They were standing around my mom’s hospital bed as she left her earthly home to go be with Jesus. I felt heartbroken that I couldn’t be there. Far from family, I knew Jesus was with me, but I missed being there and I would miss my mom. Stories flowed at her funeral and prompted me to ponder my own values and priorities.
I’ve learned a lot through our many transitions. Even with practice, they are never easy. We’ve moved at least seventeen times. We’ve gone through seven international moves on four different continents. God has been with me in my loneliness. He has held my hand as I adjusted to the many uncertainties in unfamiliar places. He watches over my aging and my responses to it.
Sometimes my stories are simple life lessons from an everyday object. My frother reminded me about the importance of rest. Let me tell my frother story:
A frother changed my life. OK, maybe that is a bit dramatic, but it really did change how much I enjoy my coffee. I used to drink coffee black (with lots of sugar). Then we moved to Spain, and I started drinking “cafe con leche” and cappuccinos. Frothy milk made coffee taste amazing. I loved going out for coffee more than ever.
Then, a friend gave me a frother of my very own. I could use it at home and make my own frothy coffee. Now if I want to, I can have warm, frothy milk in my coffee every day.
I love my frother (sorry for more drama—I like it a lot). It is amazing. I heat up the milk and add a little sugar. Then I turn on my battery-operated frother and froth away. I combine the frothy milk with coffee and get ready to experience liquid yumminess.
Recently, my milk hasn’t been very foamy. I started frothing the milk a little longer and it was OK, but it wasn’t like it used to be. The change happened so gradually that I didn’t realize it. I began to forget what frothy milk tasted like. I haven’t been to a restaurant in months, so I didn’t have anything to which I could compare it.
But I wondered about it as it was taking longer and longer for my trusty frother “to do its thing.” And its thing was no longer what it once was.
I hadn’t changed the milk I used. I had the same brand of coffee.
But it wasn’t the same. I accepted my new reality, a little sad, but what can one do?
Don made coffee one morning. The milk was foamier than ever! I was so happy. What happened?
My hero realized my frother’s batteries were low and put in new ones. My frother was dying, and I didn’t even know it. It needed help. But it happened so slowly over time that I adapted to the new normal of whatever foaminess it could produce. It wasn’t quite right, but it was what I had.
We can be like my frother. We may feel tired, stressed, and drained. But it happens over time, and we adjust to the new normal and forget what full energy feels like. So, we keep going, though a bit slower. We may think about diet, exercise, packed schedules, or what might be causing our fatigue. But there are so many ministry opportunities, we assume we can’t or shouldn’t stop. We keep going, but we are moving more and more slowly with less and less energy.
We don’t take a day off.
We can’t remember our last Sabbath rest.
We can’t afford a vacation.
There are so many needs. Isn’t stopping selfish? We don’t realize we need recharged. Our batteries are dying. We need help. We must take the time to get recharged. We must be intentional; recharging doesn’t happen without effort.
Take a weekly day of rest. Every week. Relax. Exercise. Have a fun day. Enjoy a hobby. Listen to your favorite music. Read a good book. Take a walk. Go to a movie. Watch children play in a park. Pet a dog. Sit in silence. Breathe.
Buy a frother!
Don’t let your batteries die. Learn this life lesson from me and my recharged, fully functioning, happiness-inducing, delight-giving frother: Choose to recharge. (pages 138-139)
In our move back to the States last year, my frother broke. I got a new one. And a backup, if needed. God used a little appliance to highlight for me that sometimes we need to rest. Refreshment is essential in the middle of busy schedules.
Other people’s stories have enriched, challenged, and blessed my life. We all need to share our stories. Write them down. Say them aloud. God wants us to tell our stories.
Psalm 107:1-3 says,
Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
his love endures forever.
Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story—
those he redeemed from the hand of the foe,
those he gathered from the lands,
from east and west, from north and south. (NIV)
The rest of this psalm hints at stories from days gone by. He mentions people who wandered and sat in darkness. He tells of those who suffered, sailed the seas, cried, rebelled, repented, and more. We read several responses to the stories told. But the psalmist repeats one phrase again and again in the psalm: “Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.”
May this be the response to all our stories!
You can order Bags Packed, Hearts Ready through William Carey Publishing.
Sue Eenigenburg has been in cross-cultural ministry since 1986 and lived on four different continents. She is married to Don. Their clan includes four children, their spouses and twelve grandchildren. She is the author of six books including her latest devotional, Bags Packed, Hearts Ready. She likes playing word games, reading mysteries and eating chocolate.
