Last Sunday, I was talking with friends and shared the story of the time I accidentally volunteered to be kidnapped. It’s not one of my finest moments and leaves us all wondering how I’ve made it this long or successfully raised two children to adulthood.
My best friend from university lives in Greenville, SC, and I was driving down to see her on my own. I’d never done a solo trip this long before, but I really wanted to go. So, I pushed my anxiety aside, prayed the heavens down to earth, gave my over-worked guardian angel fair warning, and set off at 5:00 am to avoid the worst of northern Virginia’s wretched traffic.
I was off to a great start, but about 30 minutes in, the coffee I’d downed to wake me up decided it had done its job, and it was time to head out. It was still dark, and I watch waaaay too many true crime shows that start with “Little did she know what was waiting for her in that gas station parking lot…” so there was no way I was pulling off the road just anywhere. There was much rejoicing when I spotted a 7-11 with a well-lit parking lot. As I pulled in, I chose a well lit parking spot directly outside the cashier’s counter, with no cars on either side of me, muttering, “You’re not telling my story yet Keith Morrison,” under my breath. I hopped out with my keys between my fingers like I was taught for self-defense and hurried to the just-as-gross-as-you’re-imagining restroom.
In the short time I was in the Ladies, the store had become more crowded, making me more determined than ever to escape this convenience store/potential crime scene. Mainly, I was focused on getting back on the road before the 495 exit backed up. I scooted along the storefront, hit the fob to unlock the car, and hopped in. I immediately sensed something was off. It was then that I noticed the car was running. Remember I had my keys in my hand? I was as confused as you are, Then I noticed the radio was playing music I generally don’t listen to. Then I noticed an air freshener I don’t like the smell of hanging from the rearview mirror. Then I noticed the console was far bougie-er than my very basic Honda CRV. Then I noticed the BMW logo on the steering wheel, and I realized I had hopped in a stranger’s car.
Naturally, I hopped out faster than I’ve ever moved in my life, but not before wiping my fingerprints off the steering wheel (as if being an idiot were an actual crime – if it were, I’d have gotten my orange jumpsuit years ago). In my defense, they were similarly sized black SUV’s and, of course, again, I’m an idiot.
At first, I was mortified, but the more I thought about it, the funnier it got. Can you imagine if there had been a passenger in the car and I hopped into that driver’s seat? What if the owner had followed me out of the store and thought I was about to steal his car? What if the owner was a criminal and my fingerprints were all over the steering wheel? You guys, I was just one plot twist away from my own episode of Dateline.
Where am I going with all this? Well, in a season of political discord and a global pandemic, I hope that story made you smile. But beyond that, I hope it helps you to see that in a very broad sense, sometimes your less-than-shining-moments can be redeemed. Sometimes it’s nothing more than exposing your complete and utter lack of street sense so you can entertain others, but sometimes it can be a story of overcoming real adversity.
All of us – every single one – has things in our past we’re not proud of. We’ve been foolish, impulsive, petty, careless, insensitive, selfish, and even cruel. But who you were and what you’ve done doesn’t have to define who you are or who you will be.
Did you catch that? The things you’ve done, the things you’ve said, even the trauma you survived doesn’t have to determine who you’re going to be today or for the rest of your life.
I truly believe that when you come to Christ, standing before Him with all your mess, God has the power to take it and transform it into something beautiful. The story of that toxic relationship that broke you, the addiction that stole you, and the sorrow that consumed you can be redeemed.
Where is the god who can compare with you—
wiping the slate clean of guilt,
Turning a blind eye, a deaf ear,
to the past sins of your purged and precious people?
You don’t nurse your anger and don’t stay angry long,
for mercy is your specialty. That’s what you love most.
And compassion is on its way to us.
You’ll stamp out our wrongdoing.
You’ll sink our sins
to the bottom of the ocean.
Micah 7:18-20 (The Message)
Not only can it be redeemed to heal and make you whole, it can bring hope and healing to others. There’s too much shame in admitting that our lives are anything less Instagram worthy. That’s why living in community is so important, especially when we can’t be physically present with the ones we love.
Look for ways to connect with others, even if – God help us – it’s another online meeting. Join an online Bible study, a book club, do a virtual happy hour or Sunday brunch. It’s only when we allow ourselves to be authentic in our relationships that those stories come out. That’s when the less than lovely moments are exposed and we can see past the social media facade to the person struggling with body image, depression, heartbreak, grief, or loss and say, “Did I ever tell you about the time…”
2 Corinthians 1:4-5 promises, “He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us.”
Your story – no matter how messy – matters. It matters to me, it matters to someone who hasn’t come as far as you have, and most of all, it matters to God.
Lately, when I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve been praying and meditating on the 23rd Psalm. I know it’s most commonly associated with funerals, but it’s so much more than that. In particular, I’ve focused on this passage – “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.”
Green pastures are the promise of His provision, still waters promise His peace, and refreshment for the soul is the certainty of His forgiveness. That’s the beauty of a relationship with God. And, on a temporal level, sharing your story can lead someone to those green pastures, the still waters, and restore their soul by introducing them to the Good Shepherd.
Who needs to hear your story today? Who do you know that’s struggling under the weight of 2020’s seemingly relentless barrage of bad news and frustration? My challenge to you is to find at least one person this week with whom you can tell your story, leading them to green pastures and still waters so their soul can be refreshed.
Tracey Mac Lean Dowdy 