It's an old, old story...

Sometimes I get tired of telling my story. It's old and not just a little painful in many places. I'd really just as soon not even think about it anymore...

But I'm supposed to meet with a young-ish pastor after work today, so he can "hear my story and get to know me." He started up this new church not long ago (Canvas Community) and we reconnected at a recent event (our paths had crossed a few times previously). I have no idea if he knows I was even a pastor at one time, much less all the many highs and lows over the years. 

Don't get me wrong, I am GLAD he invited me to get together. The fact that someone... ANYONE... wants to talk to me about ANYTHING does my ol' heart good. But... the last thing I want to do is discourage someone like this (or bore them to death). Plus there are still some scars...

That's what I was thinking last night and early this morning. I don't really want to do this.... Ugh.

Well, I've been reading through this journal called Image (Fall 2022). I picked it up from James K.A. Smith at the recent Contemplation conference (he is the editor). The section I read today had an interview with Bill Mallonee. 

Until a few years ago I had only known of Bill as the front man for the Vigilantes of Love, and I only knew of them from my years attending the Cornerstone Festival. Somehow Bill and I became Facebook friends, and while it's not like I know him personally, he has commented on a couple posts and sent me some encouraging messages along the way. Since then I've discovered some of his own music and... his story.

During this interview, Bill is sharing his story for probably the millionth time. It is deep and dark, but also delightfully uplifting. It ends with Bill sharing this:

I don't think God wastes anything, our victories or our failures. That's true in King David's life, so why not us? It cuts both ways. At some point I learned that we don't really know what we're capable of till we hit the bottom, so be careful about the estimation you have of yourself.

One night after my first marriage ended and Muriah and I were married, we walked into our favorite bar in Athens, the Flicker. It was mostly empty, except for a disheveled guy who'd clearly had one too many. I remember saying, "You know, somebody's going to walk through that door and look down his nose at that guy at the end of the bar. But when you're on the other side, when you're at the bottom of the ladder, everybody's your friend."

A bit before this reflection the interviewer had said to Bill (commenting on one of his songs - which are themselves little stories) how "...there's a spirituality found only on the other side of loss or failure or suffering." Hmmm. Probably...

So, I'm thankful that God apparently went out of his way this morning to show me that ALL our stories have some value, regardless of how old, tired, or hurtful they may be.

I guess, if there's anything I'd add to mine that's happening right now, it's from the last book I read. Learning Humility. It's a good title, and maybe not a bad story to tell.