Stories

Since my return from the land of Eire, I've noticed a peculiar development in my speech habits. When someone asks me, “So, how was Ireland?” I find I experience a temporary paralysis of the articulation center in my brain. My typical eloquent response is something like, “Uhh... it was great.” It's not that I didn't expect the question. I knew this test was coming, but somehow that didn't make it easier. Why is it so hard to put into words the depth of what my heart feels?

Today I realized something else about the nature of my temporary “speech impediment.” There's a part of me that doesn't want to try. Instead, I want to curl up inside the memories and just bask in them for a while. Why not stay there and just let everyone else stay on the outside? It's easy to tell myself that most people don't care anyway. Within a few minutes their eyes will probably glaze over, and they will be thinking about what they need to add to their grocery list, or how long they have to stand there before they can leave without being rude. Sadly, I know I've been that person at times with friends who have returned from a mission trip or overseas experience in the past. (Why do you think I can describe it so well?) So why do we make the effort? Why is it important that we communicate what we have seen and heard?

If there's one thing the Irish people do well, it's tell a story. They don't just tell you what happened. They tell you what color the bird was, the exact size of the cucumber sandwiches, and the way they felt when they first met their future spouse. They allow you the privilege of stepping into their memory for just a few moments. They want you to see what they see, feel what they felt, and you can't help but be captivated by it.

We had countless opportunities to enter into these stories throughout the trip. We heard from incredible storytellers like Billy Stevenson, Hadden Wilson, Ross Wilson, and Derick Bingham. Each one of these men had unique stories to tell, and each one did it faithfully. What a gift they gave us! They allowed us to see life through their eyes for a few moments, and what we saw was incredible. We saw more than just a story about them. We saw what Ross Wilson calls, “shoots of Everlastingness.” We saw the image of a beautiful, powerful, loving, Creator. We saw impossible requests granted. We saw the weak become strong. We saw the story of redemption come to life.

When you're learning to write, everyone reminds you, “don't tell us, show us!” Even though these men were “telling” us stories, they were really just showing us how God was invading their world and turning it upside down. I don't know about you, but those are the stories make me want to find out more for myself. They make me want to go to the source and ask Him to make me a part of His story.

If there's one thing this trip has done, it's convinced me that not only is it worth it to tell the stories, I must tell them. I can't afford to keep them to myself. People need to hear them. We are all aching for something real, for someone to show us what God looks like. But we can't just talk. We have to live this story so our words will do more than just tell... they will show.

"They will tell of the power of your awesome works, and I will proclaim your great deeds. They will celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness." Psalm 145:6-7.