What’s Your Story?

For the longest time I’ve had the desire to write my life story. Putting my feelings and thoughts on paper has always been a saving grace for me, a therapy of sorts, a healing balm for the soul. 

When I feel overwhelmed, lost, and confused, I vomit that internal mess onto my journal (or laptop) and walk away somewhat free and purged of the pain. So, inevitably, writing became second nature to me growing up. The life-giving power of words fascinated me.

I enjoyed reading and escaping into imagined worlds where nothing was impossible. There, I could become anyone and anything. I could be royalty, I could be unbroken, I could be free, I could be me. Stories can birth hope in us, stories can restore our souls, stories can awaken dead dreams and sleeping giants within us. Stories are life.

There’s a story behind creation, there’s a story behind every invention, there’s a story behind everything, and our lives are stories waiting to be told. When I tell my story of healing and redemption, I give the reader or listener the permission to receive their healing too. 

I’ve learnt that you can’t give away something you don’t have. You must first do the work and walk the talk before you can genuinely encourage anyone. People don’t want empty words or false narratives. Too many of us have been victims of unfulfilled promises; left destitute at the altar of human love. We are sick and tired of being sick and tired. We are bankrupt, we can’t afford any more lies, we’ve paid too costly a price for the gaping hole in our bleeding hearts.

So, I’ve decided to do the work, praise the Lord! :) I’ve decided that enough is enough, I deserve to be free from the constant pain and burdens I carry. I’ve decided to let go and let God, as cliched as that sounds. I mean truly let go. I’ve finally realized that I’ve been downplaying my pain and trauma, pretending I’m over it and that it’s all in the past. Yet my soul knew a different truth. 

I’ve learnt that God can’t heal what you conceal. It’s been a painful and daunting task to open myself up and "show and tell" God where it hurts. Not because He doesn’t already know, but I needed to confess the reality of my brokenness so I could process it and truly be healed. For me, the healing process has looked like me reading relevant books, listening to sermons and other people’s testimonies about their healing journey, and obviously spending time in the Word of God, dealing with the topics that I’ve been struggling to receive healing and deliverance in.

So, my story is one of surrender. Surrender to God, surrender to the process of healing, which most of the time doesn’t happen overnight, and surrender to my true self. I’m learning to speak up, to not deny my voice, to not deny myself the privilege of telling my story. I need to hear it, a young girl out there needs to hear it, someone who’s lost hope needs to hear it, and the world needs to hear that “IN ALL THESE THINGS, we are more than conquerors IN Christ Jesus” – Romans 8:37.

The myth of “time heals all wounds” is exactly that, a myth. Time doesn’t heal, time allows you to get used to the pain so much so that it becomes a dull ache, a numb wound, but a wound, nonetheless. God, through Jesus’ death and resurrection, bought our redemption and complete, holistic healing, once and for all. Yes, we might need therapy or counselling to help us mentally and emotionally process and reconcile the trauma and experiences we have encountered in life, but it all begins and ends with a true encounter with the power of the cross.

This is the beginning of my story, the beginning of me finally embracing my identity without fear, guilt, shame, or insecurity. For too long I was waiting for someone to give me permission to be me, not realizing that at the beginning of creation, God gave me the permission I seek. I am a child of God, created in His image and likeness, to take dominion and exercise the power that lives in me through Jesus. 

I’ve already received permission to be fruitful and multiply in all that I am. Today, I choose to bear good fruit; I choose to increase exponentially based on what God has already deposited into me. I choose to tell my story with boldness and passion and grace. Our stories have the potential to heal, to inspire, and to infuse hope in others and in ourselves. But many of us don’t trust our voices, and we rob so many people and ourselves of the inherent power of sharing our lived experience.

So what’s your story? And will you be courageous enough to let the world hear it? More importantly, will you be courageous enough to let yourself hear it?