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  • Writer's pictureLaura Kae

Testify: why I tell my story

“If I admire a work of art, I notice its beauty; but technically it is not the work of art itself that I admire but the skill of the artist who created it. What was the piece of art in and of itself? Nothing but a block of wood or a bottle of paint. Not beautiful or able. Nothing to admire. I am the handiwork of One who created me. Any admiration one might have for me would technically belong to Him. The Alpha and Omega of my being.”

So I pondered quite eloquently in my time with God this evening. What does it mean to have someone respond to my being or my story with admiration? What does it say about me when someone hears my story and finds the distance between where I came from and where I am nearly unbelievable? What does it say about me when someone finds my character worthy of admiration or duplication?

I think it says that I am the handiwork of a highly skilled Artist. I certainly didn’t create me. Neither did I change my character to become who I am today. I did not put the Spirit within me to give me joy or peace.

I love to tell my story. I didn’t always love to tell my story, but I do now. I don’t love to tell my story everywhere though. It is a lot to share. It is a lot to experience. It is a lot of vulnerability to allow the other person to see. But sharing my story always changes things.

I love the verse in Revelations where God says that the saints overcame satan by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony. Jesus’ blood makes us righteous. We spread the good news about the power of that blood through the word of our testimony.

Sometimes my story helps others become more vulnerable and share. Sometimes it encourages them to know that if there is healing for me, then there is healing for them too. Sometimes sharing my story simply encourages me. It reminds me of the real pit that I came out of. It reminds me of the faithfulness that God has already demonstrated in my life. It keeps me humble because it reminds me that I am not my own artist. I didn’t create me. I am not the potter. I am merely clay.

I am not the hero of my story. My story no longer revolves around me. Without Him, I would have written something so different, so fruitless, so tragic. There wouldn’t have been healing. There would have been destruction.

This past week I texted a friend. “Seven years ago I had a plan – to only love myself. How did I get here?”

That’s why it’s His story not mine because I wouldn’t have dreamed this big. I couldn’t take what was so completely and willingly selfish and make it become anything that loved or honored others. I lived for me and how things made me look. The outside of the cup and dish was dirty. The inside was even dirtier.

So I tell my story because it is not about me and my power but about Him and His. He is the Alpha and Omega. He is the Source of all my life and everything that is beautiful in me. There was a time when I did my best to destroy His beautiful Creation; but He took me and formed me into something that could and would indeed bring GOOD to this world.

Why do you tell your story? Who is your artist? What forms and shapes your story? Who is the hero in your autobiography?


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