I don’t regard myself as a great story teller. I am not the one who holds court at a party with some great yarn to tell. But this doesn’t mean I don’t have stories to tell. I do, we all do.

My man and I have been considering this notion of “storytelling”as integral to how we do life together in a community. When we meet people, catch up with friends for a coffee or over a meal we tell each other stories. The story of what you have been doing, how the kids are fairing at school, how you got on with that difficult colleague at work, the story of getting more rest over the last week. Our stories are often pedestrian and we assume they don’t have a narrative highlight or turning point, so others may not be interested. But our life is one big story. God’s story and good news sets the scene and our own tale is intertwined into that one; sometimes we resist, rebel and sometimes our story is one of reconciliation and contrition. Making our story more in tune with His.

In the last few days I have heard stories of marriage hardship, of addiction to work, of temptation with porn, of sickness, bad judgement, hope and hilarity. Stories about new purchases, new ideas, travel and the imminent death of a grandmother. Tales of a poor diagnoses, of bullying, new friendships and people making new connections. Others have stories of melancholy, of restlessness, discontent and fatigue. Our stories all intersect. We gather, we share and we connect and hopefully reflect His story in it all.

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