Today I took my bike in for repair. Most people don't ride until spring, so business was slow. The owner of the bike shop decided to work on my bike right then and there. I had the time, so I waited. Before you know it, I learned a chunk of his story. This man who I normally see maybe once a year, if that, shared some of his story. His story included brokenness. His story included joy also. Each of us probably has brokenness and joy in our story, though the story may be different. As he spoke, this person came alive to me as I heard his story. If only we could find out people's stories.
As I was coming home, the final chapter of a person's life was being written, actually, it ended last week. A sheriff deputy from a county nearby was killed in line of duty, along with another deputy. Well, on the way home the funeral procession was occurring on the Baltimore Beltway. All three lanes were closed except for this procession. Literally, miles of police cars led the funeral procession. People on my side of the beltway were pulled over taking pictures or paying respects. That person's story came to a sudden tragic end. I would bet he never thought he would have so many people him respect at his funeral. Of course, I bet he never imagined on that fateful day that he would die. That deceased deputy had a story. The person who killed him had a story, and I am sure his funeral was much more lonely.
I have a story. You have a story.
This reminds me of a Rich Mullins song in which he wrote in the refrain, "Jesus, write me into your story. Whisper it to me, and let me know I'm yours." I wonder what the story behind that song was. Rich Mullins himself had a story with a tragic death in which he never officially recorded this song.
I have a story. You have a story. Jesus also has a story for us also.