by the blood of the Lamb
and by the word of their testimony;
they did not love their lives so much
as to shrink from death.
About twenty of us sat in our living room, taking turns telling our stories.
These stories involved dark tales of loneliness, hopes for good lives, decisions to trust *again*, painful poor choices, and yet they all sang of the glory of God.
As I listened, tears occasionally welled up in my eyes.
In all these stories, each one so different, I heard the same truth again and again.
We are a mess without God, and with Him we are able to fight for another day.
We aren’t perfect with Him, although He is always perfect for us.
We had regrets. We had pain. Some of us had pain and regrets that were wound in those confusing places called church and family.
But the choice to cling to Him had never been regretted by any of us.
As I think back on the cozy night full of good food, laughter, and friendship, I realize that when we put all of our stories together, there is a common thread.
These are really His stories. He loved us before we drew breath, He drew us up from the darkness, He answered prayers unspoken, He heard cries that we screamed from mountaintops and moaned in the valleys. Always, always, He saved us.
What is His story in your life? Tell someone this week all about it. Don’t hold back.
His story sets us free.
