Storytime

For most people “storytime” is something set aside for sticky faced toddlers on Thursday mornings at the library or the 20 minutes with your kids before bedtime, their puppy dog eyes and whimpering lips begging for “just one more” as the night drags on closer to morning with every page. In other words, storytime isn’t really something for adults. 

Unless you go to my church, then storytime is very much for adults. It’s for pastors and admins. It’s for volunteers and life group leaders. It’s for anyone willing to see and share what God is doing in their life and the lives around them. It’s about the big things and little -- and there are a lot of both. 

For years now my church staff and ministry leaders have gathered together first thing Tuesday morning over bagels and oatmeal and enough burnt coffee to spoil our breath for the length of the long day ahead. It’s not a staff meeting and we don’t really get anything done. In all honesty it’s sometimes hard not to think of all the things I could be doing or the meeting I forgot to prepare for. Everyone wanders in at their own pace, often determined by carpool and traffic, forgotten lunch bags and stops at Starbucks. 

Our lives differ as much as our paces and task lists. We are pastors, admins, outreach coordinators and children’s directors. We are single, we are mothers, we are soccer coaches and volunteers. We are extroverts. We are introverts. Some thrive behind the scenes. Others can’t help but lead from the front. Each of us plays a different role in life and in work but one thing brings us together on Tuesday mornings: stories. 

You see, these aren’t stories like the ones in the yellowed, torn, and loved pages of the overdue library books in the backseat of your minivan. The stories we share are stories of life and ministry and where we see God at work in the world and lives around us. No story is ever complete. Some stories start at the beginning while others are still stuck in the prologue. Some stories are stuck in the middle while others seem to be reaching their climax. The thing is though, none of these stories is ever complete and God is never done. 

About a month ago, just before the start of lent, I was at storytime as usual (usual meaning ten minutes late and standing in the back). I didn’t expect anything different that day, but from the first story on I was struck by something big. The first story was about a volunteer’s recent trip to Haiti, a place I’ve been twice and plan to go back to. The familiarity of her story-the names, the people, the tasks-warmed my heart and made me both emotional and longing for something more.  

Then the next group got up. A group of 6 or so staff members who had gotten back from Berlin just the night before. They were there to do ministry. But hardly to serve. They were there to observe and learn from our church partner in Kenya who has started a branch of their church in this dark and unknowingly desperate city. Each team member spoke of their experience and what God revealed to them. Each story was powerful and meaningful and specific to that person.  

Then, finally, a girl not far from my own age, rushed up at the end as the worship leader began strumming his guitar to end our time. She had waited to the end, getting up after finally giving in the powerful nudge of the Holy Spirit. She spoke of Easter and her family. Of the small moments that have morphed into big ones in her journey praying for and inviting her family into a relationship with Jesus. She’s an admitted “crier” but her tears are so genuine. As tears streamed down her face in excited, nervous anticipation of Easter, she called us to the big thing God was revealing to her. She called us to pray BIG prayers entering the Easter season. Believing fully that God was on the verge of incredible life change in the lives of our loved ones who don’t know Jesus. 

Story after story I was more and more struck. My heartstrings were pulled completely taut, on the verge of snapping if I didn’t move forward. Then worship began and I had that moment with Jesus where he called me to something new. He called me to something he called me to long ago, but asked and directed me to wait. In the waiting he taught me new things and opened my eyes and heart to new people, experiences, and into a community of believers that have changed my life forever. But in that moment I knew the season I’m in was beginning to come to a close. The beginning of the end. The beginning of something new.  

What he called me to is something I’m still processing. Each week I seem to talk to someone new about it, but it’s yet to become public knowledge. A huge, huge part of me is scared. Scared in a way I’ve never been before. I know I need to be open with this news because after all, it’s GOOD news. I’m just not there yet. But I will be. And that’s why I am here, sharing this story. It will be the first story of many of this journey I’m on. There have been so many incredible markers already I don’t want to forgot but instead want to celebrate in invite people into. So this is me, writing my story, looking up at the end of each day with my puppy dog eyes and quivering lip begging for “just one more” story, hoping bedtime never comes.