the first time is scary...
The first time is scary. You don't know the outcome, how they'll respond. You have no idea if things will be better or worse than before you dared to open your mouth. How will they view you? Will this change their opinion about you? What if it makes things awkward? What if it creates a distance, makes them think less of you? I know the feeling. I've been there myself. The first time you share your story is scary.
Here I was, sitting in a room full of complete strangers about to lead a bible study. People, as my mother would say, that I didn't know from Adam were staring at me with anticipation of what the topic of the night would be. And if that didn't make it difficult enough, I didn't speak their language and some of them barely spoke mine. But I was going to do my best, in my brokenness and pain, to tell them the story of Abraham and Isaac from my perspective. It was so raw. Talking about the worry, the dread, and the confusing trek to the mountain those two made in Genesis hit too close to home. But it was easier to disguise my story in theirs. To let Abraham and Isaac play out the roles because I wasn't brave enough to do it myself. I spoke with conviction as if I had been on that wild journey with them thousands of years before I was woven together in my mother's womb. I had made a connection to their story. Something about it gripped my heart, and I read it as if it was the most thrilling, cinematic event to ever be played out in human history. The thought of being hurt by one you trusted and loved, of having to lose something you'd prayed about for years, of God asking you to possibly live out one of your worst nightmares resonated with me in such an uncomfortable and familiar way. Their story gripped me, and it was oddly comforting. And I just hoped that by telling their story, somehow mine would be conveyed.
I'm sure half of the room wondered why I fought back tears as I shared this odd story of a parent taking his only son to a mountain top to potentially be sacrificed. They probably thought it was some weird American thing. I wrapped the lesson up, believing that I was out of the woods. Little did I know, I was just walking into the trees. The missionary hosting the bible study said, "Brittnye, why don't you tell them why this story means so much to you?" I looked at her, wide eyed, and wondered why she was throwing me under the bus like that. She knew how embarrassed I was to tell them my story. She knew how difficult it was to talk about. She knew most all of the details, in fact, and I think that's exactly why she knew I needed to tell it. She knew that even though God's grace was so obvious in Abraham and Isaac's story, it would be just as obvious in mine. Maybe if I said it out loud, I'd hear it myself.
I began slowly choosing my words. Fear gripped me and I felt so insecure. I worried about what my new friends would think of me. I had just led them in a bible study and I was about to rip open my scars and show them my failures. I knew they'd think I was a hypocrite. I knew they'd cast judgment and avoid me. I wondered if they felt as uncomfortable listening to me as I felt talking to them. But no one made a peep. They hung on every word I said, listening as if I was telling them some age old secret. I finished, we prayed, and their love poured out on me. Compassion, sorrow, comfort. And I marveled at the fact that God could use something so tragic, so ugly and unfortunate, to speak of His power and goodness. That He could work through the pain and the mess and the sorrow to bring about healing for the one telling and encouragement for the ones listening was something I never expected. But then again, God rarely works in the ways we expect. That's why we've got to have faith in Him. Otherwise, we've got nothing to hold on to.
In Jeremiah 29:11, the Lord declares, "I know the plans I have for you." In other words, "You have yet to know the plans I have laid out for you." When Abraham walked his son up that mountain, He didn't know what God had planned for Him. He didn't know his future. When I told my story to a room of complete strangers, I didn't know what God had planned for me. I didn't know my future. Only He knows because He is the one planning it. And although we don't know what it is, we can be certain it will be filled with God's provision and redemption. For Abraham and Isaac, it was a ram. For me, it was the beginning of a new season. For you, well, He's got a plan, too. Sometimes, it just takes a little extra faith to get there.
Here I was, sitting in a room full of complete strangers about to lead a bible study. People, as my mother would say, that I didn't know from Adam were staring at me with anticipation of what the topic of the night would be. And if that didn't make it difficult enough, I didn't speak their language and some of them barely spoke mine. But I was going to do my best, in my brokenness and pain, to tell them the story of Abraham and Isaac from my perspective. It was so raw. Talking about the worry, the dread, and the confusing trek to the mountain those two made in Genesis hit too close to home. But it was easier to disguise my story in theirs. To let Abraham and Isaac play out the roles because I wasn't brave enough to do it myself. I spoke with conviction as if I had been on that wild journey with them thousands of years before I was woven together in my mother's womb. I had made a connection to their story. Something about it gripped my heart, and I read it as if it was the most thrilling, cinematic event to ever be played out in human history. The thought of being hurt by one you trusted and loved, of having to lose something you'd prayed about for years, of God asking you to possibly live out one of your worst nightmares resonated with me in such an uncomfortable and familiar way. Their story gripped me, and it was oddly comforting. And I just hoped that by telling their story, somehow mine would be conveyed.
I'm sure half of the room wondered why I fought back tears as I shared this odd story of a parent taking his only son to a mountain top to potentially be sacrificed. They probably thought it was some weird American thing. I wrapped the lesson up, believing that I was out of the woods. Little did I know, I was just walking into the trees. The missionary hosting the bible study said, "Brittnye, why don't you tell them why this story means so much to you?" I looked at her, wide eyed, and wondered why she was throwing me under the bus like that. She knew how embarrassed I was to tell them my story. She knew how difficult it was to talk about. She knew most all of the details, in fact, and I think that's exactly why she knew I needed to tell it. She knew that even though God's grace was so obvious in Abraham and Isaac's story, it would be just as obvious in mine. Maybe if I said it out loud, I'd hear it myself.
I began slowly choosing my words. Fear gripped me and I felt so insecure. I worried about what my new friends would think of me. I had just led them in a bible study and I was about to rip open my scars and show them my failures. I knew they'd think I was a hypocrite. I knew they'd cast judgment and avoid me. I wondered if they felt as uncomfortable listening to me as I felt talking to them. But no one made a peep. They hung on every word I said, listening as if I was telling them some age old secret. I finished, we prayed, and their love poured out on me. Compassion, sorrow, comfort. And I marveled at the fact that God could use something so tragic, so ugly and unfortunate, to speak of His power and goodness. That He could work through the pain and the mess and the sorrow to bring about healing for the one telling and encouragement for the ones listening was something I never expected. But then again, God rarely works in the ways we expect. That's why we've got to have faith in Him. Otherwise, we've got nothing to hold on to.
In Jeremiah 29:11, the Lord declares, "I know the plans I have for you." In other words, "You have yet to know the plans I have laid out for you." When Abraham walked his son up that mountain, He didn't know what God had planned for Him. He didn't know his future. When I told my story to a room of complete strangers, I didn't know what God had planned for me. I didn't know my future. Only He knows because He is the one planning it. And although we don't know what it is, we can be certain it will be filled with God's provision and redemption. For Abraham and Isaac, it was a ram. For me, it was the beginning of a new season. For you, well, He's got a plan, too. Sometimes, it just takes a little extra faith to get there.
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