You Cannot Hide Your Light

IMG_6478It doesn’t matter where I go—people think I work there. It’s been this huge inside joke that I’ve shared with God for years. Like—what’s up with that? But it’s true. People just approach me everywhere I happen to be. They think I know stuff.

They think I can help them.

I notice it a lot when I’m shopping in stores because I often get bumped out of my internal reverie. Like what happened today. This morning I was approached for help by two different men—one of them a shopper wanting me to help him price-check his bread under a scanner: “Excuse me, Miss? MISS!”

The guy basically chased me down in the aisle when I didn’t hear his first inquiry.

Granted, I think I’m pretty readable by others to be a helpful and understanding person, but I think these occurrences actually highlight a deeper and more powerful truth than just my empathic type of personality:

A person’s spirit recognizes LIGHT.

After DECADES of these interactions, I’ve come to the conclusion that these people are actually drawn to me by a KNOWING in their spirit man. They are drawn like moths to God’s LIGHT.

Each one of us is a BEACON—broadcasting light from within our spirit man. It’s a spiritual reality. And everywhere that we go, we pull others into that light. Even unintentionally. People don’t know WHY they come. But they DO come. I see this happen time and again as strangers ask me for help with piddly little things:

Can you give me directions to ______?

Have you tried this brand of beans?

Can you help me scan this bread?

It’s taken me years of watching people make a beeline towards me for me to finally understand what is happening. Now when these moments happen, I feel an internal tug in my spirit and I just KNOW: they see my LIGHT. They see Jesus. They know I can help them. Their spirit is curious and knows that I really do know something that they need:

That something is TRUTH.

And even though their soul may be absolutely clueless about the real reason why they approach me—their spirit is not. The surface requests for help are irrelevant—the soul just needs a socially acceptable reason to approach. But if their soul could find words to language the DEEPER feeling, it would probably go something like this:

“I see something in you that I need. What do you know that I don’t know yet? Please tell me.”

God’s light is attractive and a person’s spirit recognizes it.

I feel those internal tugs on my spirit at other times too—like when I can feel someone watching me. I used to hate it when I could feel someone watching me, especially men. It felt creepy and it usually triggered me into a fearful place. As a woman, I am always aware of my need to stay safe. But the closer I grow with Jesus, the more my spiritual discernment grows. The deeper my union with Him, the more I operate out of my spirit knowing instead of the emotions of my soul. The result?

I can tell the difference now between people’s looking intentions.

I can feel the difference between a creepy person watching me and a person watching me because of a curiosity in their spirit. The difference is night and day. So I no longer walk in fear during these unexpected interactions. I consider them now as invitations from Heaven—inviting me to partner with God and purposefully shine my light.

Nowadays, when I FEEL someone watching me (which is also spirit knowing, by the way)—I purposefully try to step into that moment. I glance up and meet the person’s eyes. I smile. Many times the person and I don’t even talk. But it doesn’t matter. A spiritual transaction takes place.

Science has proven that data is electrically transferred through eye contact. So even if we aren’t speaking, we are relaying our internal message of God’s light and truth. And if it happens to be an interaction that involves an actual conversation or helping—that just means we get an even longer opportunity to shine truth into their world.

I’m not talking about evangelism or preaching the Good News here. That’s another topic for a different day. I’m simply talking about loving another person by shining the light that you already have.

The sun doesn’t have to tell you that it loves you for you to be affected by its presence. You FEEL its warmth on your skin. God’s light is the same way. When a person encounters God’s light—it is transformational no matter what.

I think there will be many people in Heaven one day that meet God because of purposeful believers who shined their light well.

Every time we shine His light—whether through our presence, eye-contact, or intentional conversations, people walk away changed. We should never discount the power of a life well-shined.


Your spirit carries His light.

Shine it well.

❤ Nova

“Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).

“For once you were full of darkness, but now you have light from the Lord. So live as people of light! For this light within you produces only what is good and right and true” (Ephesians 5:8-9).


That Could Have Been Me


I felt the shift inside the cozy coffee shop as she entered. It wasn’t because of other’s reactions to her arrival that I noticed her, but simply because I was like a spiritual weather needle. My meter was now jiggling back and forth in almost earthquake-like anticipation. It was no use. I could no longer focus on the halfway-written article in front of me.

Pain and brokenness had just entered the building.

I glanced up and saw her then—looking bedraggled at the counter with her short brown hair, dirt-tanned skin and mismatched clothing. She was mumbling a request to the barista that I soon realized to be an order for a cup of hot water.

Something that was free.

For some reason, my eyes were repeatedly drawn to her shoes. I couldn’t take my eyes off her sockless feet which seemed starkly contrasted among her gigantic skater shoes. Had I not seen her torso, I would have guessed her to be a homeless man.

“Poor baby,” I thought. Where’s her family?”

The mother within me grieved. What had happened to this lost sheep that she no longer had a flock or a shepherd to watch over her?

I wondered how old the girl was: 20? 21? It was hard to tell. What at first glance appeared as wrinkles soon turned out to be just opportunistic dirt—caked into the natural grooves and contours of her face.

She should be in college somewhere, enjoying her life and excited about the possibilities of her future—not sleeping under a tree somewhere.

As I continued to ponder her sad circumstances, this lost soul wandered over nearby—as if compelled by the silent yet compassionate projection of my spirit—and sat down next to me on a sofa chair. Her feet soon began a semi-rhythmic pitter patter on the tile floor, a nervous syncopation of possible drug withdrawal or social anxiety.

She brought the cup of hot water up to her mouth and paused as her eyes clouded over into a vacant stare.

My heart just broke.

This was someone’s child. This was God’s child. This was a daughter of the King who had somehow lost her way. Maybe just recently. Maybe she’d been lost her whole life. But whatever the timing or origin of the wilderness—she just needed to find her way back home.

“If you had asked me, I would have but given you the water of eternal life…”

I flashed back to Jesus’s conversation with the woman at the well. Here was a young woman seeking a drink of water in the midst of a life that certainly had not satisfied.

“I am the Water of Life…”

“He who drinks of Me will never thirst again…”

I kept gazing into her young face, feeling the Father’s heart for His prodigal daughter. Yes, she was marred by earth and pain—but her essence still shined through: Made in the Image of Love.

My heartstrings resonated with His love and I began to be consumed by yet another thought:

That could have been ME.

It totally could have. In a way it really was—I’d just processed my brokenness differently. I’d chosen less disastrous addictions. The after effects of my life’s earliest traumas were just not as obvious to the outside world.

Appearances are so deceptive.

I kept feeling like if the life dice had been tossed differently…

If I’d had a few less assets and made a few different choices—that definitely could be me: dirt obscuring beauty, sockless with masculine attire, sitting homeless and chilled on a coffee-shop chair for a brief reprieve from life’s cruelty.

What if?

What if I hadn’t made it through the Jello maze of high-school depression and somehow ended up in college? The application essays themselves almost took me out. What if I hadn’t found a church during college that gave me hope? What if I hadn’t discovered friends who loved and inspired me to push through?

The dice could have landed so differently…

I knew I was one of God’s prodigals. Who wasn’t?

And as we sat there on those coffee shop chairs together, I began a brief conversation with this precious, wandering soul. Two prodigals discussing life. I asked her about her journey. We talked about God. She had a few moments of clarity where she shared life details, but then she rambled off into an incoherent jibber jabber—whether out of post-drug effects or accompanying spiritual dynamics, I couldn’t tell.

I wished I could do more to help her.

I knew I wasn’t the answer to her life’s problems. I knew there would be others that God would place along her path to love on her and point the way back home.

I just tried to do my best to love on this little lost sheep while I was there. I bought her a sandwich. My small part was to show her some kindness and love and convey through my actions that she mattered.

That could have been me.

In a world full of prodigals, each one of us is on a journey to find our way home. Some of us are messier and stay in the pig pit longer than others. Many of us just don’t know that we have a loving Father awaiting us with open arms around the bend.

But all of us deserve a chance to come back home.

❤ Nova

“But whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:14).

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him” (Luke 15:20).

To Sleepover or Not to Sleepover?

sleepoverpicOur kids’ annual birthday marathon just finally ended—thank God. Seriously…it’s the biggest pain every year to have three of our kids’ birthdays back-to-back. July. August. September. No reprieve. And having two of them at the beginning of the school year just convolutes things even more. Nevermind that my 40th b-day was also thrown into the mix this year.

It’s all about the kids, right?

My husband and I decided a few years back that we’d switch to the every-other-year birthday celebration idea, but somehow one slipped through the cracks this year. This was actually supposed to be our off year.

“What happened? I thought we were going to skip birthday parties this year?” my husband asked.

“Yah. I don’t know what happened. But we started the cycle—no going back now,” I replied.

Our March birthday kid must have somehow hypnotized me. Either that or she used her covert charm and mad skills to cast me under her birthday spell.

Anyway…she totally snuck past my radar.

But now we were stuck and obligated to fulfill the rest of this year’s birthday round. One kid was also turning 13—so that was a significant milestone. Next year, my other daughter will turn 13—it always seems to be something.

Somehow we keep getting looped back in.

Birthday parties wouldn’t be such panic-inducing material for me if I had better boundaries with my children. My overly optimistic perspective is my downfall every year. Somehow each of my kids manages to slyly cram two birthday parties into one event. And my alarm bell must be broken, because it doesn’t RING that it’s a bad idea until it’s way too late.

“Sure you can have a couple of kids spend the night after the party. Why not?”

But the couple of kids somehow turns into four or five. And it’s never a quiet night. It usually turns into eight wild banshees running around my house, having the time of their lives, and a 10pm food fest—as the natives become starving again.

Shoot. I only planned snacks, dinner and dessert, and breakfast for the next morning. What do I feed them now?

Our yearly birthday hoorah wouldn’t cause me nearly as much anxiety if the kids could just invite our regulars—aka those kids who have been over before and whose parents already know the drill. You know…the families who totally get it when I answer the door in my pajamas Sunday morning in total sleep-deprivation, birthday-hangover mode. No judgment.

“Yah, I WON’T be going to church today. Can you bring me coffee when you pick up your kid?”

Seriously though, I think the two hardest party variables that I deal with every year are the new-kid ingredient and the sleepover element.

The new-kid ingredient usually entails a lot of extra planning and detailed communication. It means texting new parents from tiny scraps of paper that my kids have brought home from school. It means awkward introductions and really hoping that the numbers are correct. It means using my college marketing degree to parent-smooze and YES, even includes name dropping. I mean, COME ON, I’m trying to sell someone on coming to our party, right?

“You know so-and-so, right? Yah, their kid is TOTALLY coming to our party. Their parents trust me. I’m legit. Promise. Oh, and I have my daughter looking up at me with her puppy-dog eyes, so please don’t say no.”

Then once I get past the awkward introductions, I get to tip-toe around the hot sleepover topic because I actually told my daughter YES for some crazy reason. I’m a glutton for punishment apparently.

My mommy friends tell me every year that I’m loco for trying to cram so much in.

But back to the sleepover topic. It’s a very real and hot issue among parents these days. Our world is such a crazy, messed-up place. It’s wise to be aware and careful about where we leave our children unsupervised.

If I could be completely real and transparent when texting a new parent about a sleepover, I think I’d give this party and family disclaimer:

“Hi. My kid would love to invite your kid over to our house for a sleepover party next Saturday. I promise we aren’t psychopaths, your child won’t get molested at our house, and we don’t watch porn. But YES, I will feed your kid gluten and sugar, they will most likely be inundated with “high school musical” songs, and they will probably come home totally zombified from too-much play and not-enough sleep. I’ve been told our house is like Disneyland. Hope your kid can come.”

Keeping it real, right?

I TOTALLY get it though. Slumber parties, aka sleepovers, are such a tricky dynamic. Plus, they are a TON of work. I encounter it every time I plan one of my sleepover-obsessed kid’s parties. And every year I swear that next time, I’m only going to let my kids invite our regulars—that is, if I ever do a sleepover again.

Sleepover parties are like giving birth. I don’t remember the pain of them until I actually have another one.

I USED to be one of the ANTI-sleepover moms. I didn’t let my kids do ANY sleepovers when they were little. It was just too much emotional and physical hassle to even think about. Plus, I knew that once I unlocked that door, the floodgates would rush in, contagious sleepover-fever would hit, and my kids would start keeping detailed tallies. My kids are like fairness Nazis. They are zealously aware of any scale imbalances.

“But I haven’t had a sleepover in two weeks. That’s not FAIR!”

You’re right. It’s because I play favorites. I must not have balanced my Excel-sleepover spreadsheet this month. Not to mention that my son doesn’t understand why he can’t have sleepovers like his sisters.

Sleepovers are just a PAIN. Plain and simple. I’m still not really a fan. But I host them anyway, and I let my kids go to a fair amount of them now that they are older.


Two reasons:

First reason: I have SO many good memories from my own childhood sleepovers. They were, for the most part, positive learning experiences. It wasn’t just about the fun. I was able to watch how other families lived. It was like traveling the world and learning about other family cultures. I also got to know some of my friends’ parents—a little outside mentoring never hurts.

Yes, there were the occasional times when I watched a scary movie that I never would have been allowed to watch at home. There was one friend’s brother who was highly inappropriate in his conversations. But for the most part, what I gleaned was way better than my handful of negative experiences.

I know that I CAN’T protect my kids every minute of every day. I know my kids hear bad words and other inappropriate material even at school. But I know what I CAN do. My kids and I talk about these things afterwards. And I PRAY.

Every morning I pray for God’s protection over my kids’—spirit, soul, and body. I pray that God guards their eyes, ears, and hearts. I pray that God edits their people interactions. I declare the promises of Psalm 91’s protection.

The second reason I allow sleepovers is that I decided years ago that I didn’t want to make my parenting decisions out of fear and paranoia. Instead, I wanted to make them out of wisdom and peace—which is actually a much trickier road to navigate.

It WOULD be so much easier just to say NO. To say our family doesn’t do sleepovers.

I’ve encountered two common sides of this Sleepover Road in my lifetime. One is the side of permissiveness and naiveté. My parents landed on this side. They were pretty clueless in general about what could happen at a playdate or sleepover. Trust me, bad stuff can happen at playdates in the daytime too. I had way more bad things happen to me as a young, unsupervised child dropped off at a friend’s house than I EVER had happen at a sleepover in my older childhood years.

The second is the side of fear or paranoia—usually including but not limited to the complete opting-out of sleepovers. I know many parents who choose to walk on this side of the Sleepover Road. I have zero judgment for them. I totally get it. Anyone who has ever experienced trauma in their childhood has a tendency to take this route. And even without the experience of trauma, opting-out of sleepovers feels much safer, is less hassle, and it avoids those awkward conversations of having to say no to invitations.

People generally respect the family sleepover opt-out.

There are days when I think about re-opting back out of sleepovers. But each time I see the excited anticipation in my kids’ eyes and hear of their fun sleepover exploits, I decide not to.

Instead, I try to walk in the middle of this Sleepover Road. I walk cautiously and I have to use discernment. I have certain friends’ homes that I allow them to frequent, and there are certain homes I will not allow them to go to–no matter how much they beg me.

But with new people, I have to check in with God and see whether I have peace about any upcoming invites. I ask questions that will help me weed out uncomfortable variables. I want to know who else lives at the house, who else will be spending the night, and what movies they will be watching.

I also try to be clear about our family’s own rules and boundaries, because I know that each family is its own organism with differing values and norms.

I have to always use communication, discernment, peace and prayer. These are crucial tools to use in making any decision. I also employ the weapons of research and education. I try to learn more about the families of my kids’ friends and I educate my children on how to stay safe. 

I try to educate my kids on how to walk in authority, have good physical and emotional boundaries, and how to also trust their intuition when someone or something feels “off” or “creepy”. Plus, they know that they can always call me if something goes south.

These are tools I never had as a child.

And honestly—a lot of times if I say no to an invitation, it’s just because we are already busy or oversaturated in parties. So if I say no to your kid’s party, don’t take it personally.

I promise not to take your no personally either. If I happen to invite your kid to one of our future sleepovers and you say no, I will not be offended. And I won’t automatically assume you have some deep trauma in your past.

Instead, I will assume you are a fantastic parent who adores your child and is trying to protect them to the best of your ability. Your kid can still come to Part One of our party. Because that’s how I roll.

To Sleepover or Not to Sleepover? That is the question.

Because it’s not a question of morality: what is right or wrong.

It’s a family decision.

You get to decide which part of the Sleepover Road to walk.

Party on.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6).

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).

Face Forward

IMG_4136I have learned many life lessons through watching hawks. Just this morning, I had another one of these surreal moments. A hawk was sitting on a tall lamppost bordering the street, as I was driving towards him on my morning drive. (This photo is from a different day.) Something so powerful struck me in this moment that I actually stopped the car in the middle of the road (checking behind me of course that no one was coming first). And I just sat in my car and watched him. There’s a message here, I thought. He was facing me, along with the landscape behind me. And then, just like that, he side-stepped his tiny feet 90 degrees, until his back had replaced my frontal view. He was now facing forward, looking toward the snow-covered majestic scenery in front of him.

Face Forward.

I felt those words reverberate in my spirit as I watched him make the transition. And it was then that I felt the release to drive away…understanding in that brief moment what the Father was speaking to my heart. Take your eyes off of your past as your main focal point. Place them instead on your future—where I am planning to take you. I let my heart and spirit steep in those words for the rest of the drive. Face forward. Set your gaze here. Look at the beautiful vistas that I have for you. A future and a hope, remember?

I need to rewind this story a little bit for you because this is just one of many ongoing conversations that God and I engage in on a daily basis. I have a thing for hawks and God knows that and so he uses it daily to encourage and speak to me metaphorically. I also have a thing for symbolic and metaphorical thinking. In case you hadn’t noticed by now. God wired me this way.

The funny thing was that I had actually prayed and asked God for a sign about ten minutes earlier. What’s my direction now? What am I to focus on?

So many things have been changing all around me. I have been in a major time of transition lately, as I’ve left one season and entered another. But I haven’t been able to find my new footing in this season just yet. I’ve been waiting months, just walking out what I know I’m to do until I get some new direction. I have known intuitively, in walking out the day-to-day, which things I was to attend to and which things I was no longer to focus on. But I felt a little bit like the proverbial fish out of water, flopping around, looking for where the water/ life was. Come on God, throw me a bone. Something. Anything. I’m almost out of air here.

So this hawk was God’s gentle counsel after what felt like months of sweating it out. Waiting. Looking. Feeling impatient.

Face Forward.

Isn’t it crazy how just a little bit of direction from God can make all the difference? And yet even in that, there is often the tendency to take that to extremes. How many times have you thought to yourself, “If God would just tell me what to do, I’d do it!” ?

Aww, if it were only that easy. He really guides us in the subtleties, rather than broadcasting to us a detailed schematic.

Notice that His counsel to me of facing forward didn’t come to me with a syllabus—detailing the specifics. Because I’m to rely on Him for the daily direction of how to walk that out. I just can’t seem to get away from the reality of the day-to-day thing and the being-led thing.

But in that gentle counsel was freedom. I saw him putting a kind arm around my shoulders, and carefully steering me into a different position—one that was filled with excitement and anticipation, rather than drudging through the mud of the past. It’s sticky there.

Life with God is meant to be this incredible living, breathing relationship. And no matter how many people in the church or in religion try to make it just about rules and the black and white issues (and yes, I understand that there are some black and white issues in Scripture), we just can’t get away from the reality that God wants to lead and guide us into all truth in our daily lives.

God is spirit, He made us with a spirit, and we are to be in that spirit-to-spirit relationship and daily walk with Him. That means He wants to speak with us and counsel us on a daily basis. He doesn’t just give us a to-do list for life and walk away.

I love how John Eldredge puts it, “There is a dailyness to our walk with Christ…”

There really is. Bottom line it. We can’t get away from walking with Him in that daily relationship of communication and trust. And would we want to? I don’t know about you, but I know that I can’t do it on my own—even if I did have that hypothetical list.

And so here I am with today’s heads up to Face Forward. It isn’t that I haven’t been doing that. I have been. Generally. But if I were to drill down to the specifics and be really honest with you, I’d admit that I spend a lot of time looking back—at my life, my decisions, my relationships. Questioning. Wondering. Regretting. Reliving. It’s so exhausting to relive the past. It depletes my spiritual tank, so that I have less energy to dream and grow.

And God wants me to dream and grow. He wants me to hope. A future and a hope…

And it’s not that looking at my past is bad in itself. I have already boarded the plane to the inner healing and restoration of my heart, and that will often involve looking into the windows of the past to get more understanding and healing. This particular plane is a life journey. But I’m not to make the past my dwelling place.

Face Forward. It’s a subtle course correction. But I can run with that…

Freedom. Life. Healing. Deliverance. Restoration. Redemption. Reconciliation. Those are the points on God’s compass.

Follow His compass. Follow the subtleties. Follow Him daily.

Face Forward.

He’ll get you where you need to be.

“For I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11).

“When the spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth…” (John 16:3)

“And your ears will hear a word behind them, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or to the left” (Isaiah 30:21).


God Storytelling

cloud heart

I’m a storyteller at heart. That’s honestly how I’d describe myself if I had to pick one word. Always loved stories. Reading them. Telling them. Hearing them. I can’t get enough. And it’s been this way ever since I can remember. For the love of the story…

Back in high school, my friends would razz me and say, “Tell Kristin anything and she’ll think of a story to tell you about it”. That’s still true. I haven’t changed all that much. If you ever see my eyes light up when you are talking to me, that’s probably the reason why. “Your” story might have just hit “my” story-button. Unless it’s a God Story—those just light me up no matter what.

My favorite genre of stories are the God Stories. People’s stories about how God has intervened in their lives. Transformed them. Protected them. Healed them. Done miracles in their lives. Drawn them to Him. These are truly my addiction. My passion. I never get tired of hearing about my God. I never will.

Because God is like a prism. He has so many sides to Him. So many colors. So many angles. And with each new story that I hear or read, I see a new angle to my God that leaves me breathless and in awe. I leave those story moments with an extra pep in my step. I walk away knowing Him better. Because God shows no partiality/favoritism (Romans 2:11). So I can brag on Him: “That’s MY God!”

These stories inspire me daily in my own journey. To keep going. To keep pressing in for my own life breakthroughs. To keep looking for my own God moments, when God intervenes in time and space and lovingly reaches down to help me in one of His manifold ways. Manifold in the Greek is the word Poikilos, which means multi-colored. This illustrates His prism perfectly. God’s manifold grace, wisdom, gifts, works…these are all multi-colored. My particular favorite is His Manifold Wisdom. I love seeing and experiencing new colors of His wisdom. Tasting new flavors.

Ephesians 3:10 talks about this:

“So that through the church the manifold (multi-colored) wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.”

We get to be involved in displaying God’s multicolored wisdom and nature—not only to the spiritual forces, but to people as well. What an honor! We NEED to tell our stories. Our God Stories are like seeds that we plant. Into another’s heart. We never know how just one of our stories can transform another person’s life. So we need to tell and tell. And plant and plant. Our words, our stories, have power. They help people see new colors and angles about God.

When I was at Regent University getting my journalism degree, I stumbled onto a job that fit my spiritual God-Story DNA to a “T”. I ended up interviewing students from all over the world (literally) and finding out their individual STORIES, how God brought them to attend Regent. And my faith and awe grew with each story. EVERY student had an incredible testimony to share. Each person shared about how God had moved Heaven and Earth, and everything in between, to get them to our school. My life hasn’t been the same since those interviews. My perspective and awe-meter were forever shifted.

My Regent Story was amazing too. A “chance” conversation on an airplane with a random stranger turned into a new best friend and grad-school journey. I’d say that’s pretty unique. But I’ve heard much-crazier things. And angel stories? I have a few of those myself.

So tell me your God Story. Tell others your God Story.

What do you know about Him that I don’t know yet?

What have you experienced that I haven’t?

Instead of engaging in the regular small-talk banter, go for the gold.

Tell someone how your car randomly swerved on the freeway the other day and avoided an oncoming truck that you didn’t see coming. Tell someone how you found $20 on the ground right when you needed to buy something. Tell someone about the crazy dream you had that helped you decide where to move (Yep—this one is our story). Tell someone about your three miracle babies—how the doctor told you you’d never have kids. Tell someone how your ectopic pregnancy turned into a normal pregnancy and miracle baby. I know actual people with these stories.

God Stories happen all the time…all around us.

So tell someone your God Story.

Let those that know Him see another color/angle of who He is.

And let those that don’t know Him yet see Him through your story.

For He’s been waiting to give them their own…