I suppose there is not a better way to tell of how God can transform someone's life than to share your own story. 

Think about it.  Is there any story you know better?  Do you have to think much to be able to recall something about your own self?

I’ve often thought along these lines.  When we share with others the only story we really and truly know, we open up a window of integrity and opportunity to another.  Our culture is craving authenticity right now.  It’s a void our society is missing in the flashy Instagram world of false identities and glamorized personas.  We flip through our reel, noting how perfect everyone is, how beautiful, how successful, how. . . well, you can fill in the blank.  Don’t we all see exactly what we are missing in life?

But a true-to-life real and genuine opening of the soul?  It’s a medicine like no other.

For instance, take something that isn’t so well known about me.  

If I told you that God delivered me from allergies, allergies so bad that my childhood was insane, you might believe me, you might not.  But all you have to do is meet one of my childhood friends or relatives, and they will testify to what a hot mess I was back then.  Here’s the short list: I couldn’t eat anything from the list of kryptonite such as peanuts, corn, eggs, milk, or made from any of those ingredients.  Pause: think of this.  What?  A dairy farm kid who can’t drink milk?  Sigh.  Fresh sweet corn in the summer?  Another sigh.  Yes, I was a hot mess.  Most childhood pleasantries were things I needed to avoid.  Even the best candy was off limits.  I can remember putting Doritos in my mouth, savoring the incredible taste and euphoria, then needing to spit the corn chip back out so that I didn’t become a full body rash of itchy blood and scabs.  

During the summer months when we all sat out in the yard on a picnic table, my mouth watered, envy turned me green, and all I could do was watch everybody else savor a flavor they didn’t truly know how to appreciate.  I couldn’t take it.  So I would get an ear, load it up real nice, and suck the salt and butter off my ear of sweetcorn because if I swallowed the bite, I’d pay for it.  Limiting myself to one ear of corn per summer, I ate it slow, as each kernel was tasted almost individually.  

The rash was unbearable.  But I did it anyway.

But I had a grandmother who prayed for me earnestly.  She would tell me about it.  I’m so thankful, because at the time, I cannot remember praying for my allergies myself.

And one day, just like that, the doctor cleared me of all my food allergies. 

The world bloomed.

Since the age of about 18, I can easily eat a whole bag of Doritos, sit down to a meal of only sweet corn in the summer, pop one Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup in my mouth after another, or binge on a whole tub of ice cream.  Still to the present, I usually eat an egg sandwich every day.

I know.  Hard to believe.

And to those who were not plagued with my allergies, not involved in my pain and agony, my story might not mean anything to them.  But to my poor mother, who lived with the nightmare of her kid not being able to eat anything and listening to him bellyache about his skin itching off when he did, it was miraculous.

So here I am today.  I can testify to the power of prayer and the power of a grandmother who was determined to lift me up to the Lord each day.  If I told my story to the average person on the street, would I have anybody that would argue, dismiss, or debate my testimony?  Maybe.  But let me tell my story to my first-grade friend, my sister, my doctor.  Any of those people going to dispute it?

Not hardly.  

In fact, though my doctor was so intellectually minded in science that he figured he could solve all the world’s problems, I heard him say it with his own mouth to my own ears.  In one of my last visits with him, my doctor himself, testified that my condition and the turnaround of it, was by the hand [God] upstairs, and not his.  Nothing short of a miracle.  

Wow.

To work on a patient for almost 20 years and in the end give the glory to God instead of science?  Incredible.  I was blown away.

So, what’s my point?

My point is that you have a story.  Your story might not be about food allergies.  It might not be about getting hit in the forehead with a gate at work and getting a traumatic brain injury (which by the way, my three-year anniversary of my accident was this September).  But you have a story.  Your story is one that if you took the courage to step out and tell it, someone else would be blessed, inspired, pointed to Jesus, or possibly even saved.  We cannot be afraid of our story, for it is the powerhouse engine under the hood that can change lives around us.  To hide it?  

Well, that would be tragedy.

Faith of Our Farmers Podcast

In light of sharing stories, I had another wonderful opportunity to share my testimony with a group of great men who are spreading hope and encouragement to farmers and farm families all throughout the country. In my talk with Frank Hartley and Chris Elliot, I share about growing up on a farm and how God used farm imagery to show me that if you look, you can find blessings even in the worst of times. I talked about the hardship of our barn fire and other life struggles on the Faith of Our Farmers Podcast, showing how God can literally raise you from the ashes when you are in His hands and give Him the chance.

Was it hard to openly tell my testimony? At times. But was it worth it? Absolutely. I'll know and understand that more fully when I get to heaven. My duty here is simply to share, be open to opportunities presented, and not look back. God can take it to where it needs to go. I'm confident in that.

So my challenge to you today is to do the same thing. Tell that story!  Be the light that others need.  Your audience will be different than mine, and that's a good thing. You can reach people I cannot. Let's brush off the lack of confidence, shy feelings, and any thoughts that our story isn't perfect, and get out the indisputable story of what God has done in our lives to those who need it. The world is too dark, too full of despair, and too full of plastic, perfect people.  Hey, my mugshot might not be pretty, but at least it's more authentic than an Instagram pose! Matthew 5:14-16 says it perfectly.

Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.  

Tell your story.  Be a candle in the dark.

If you haven’t heard it yet, click on the image below for the link to mine.

You can also find Frank Hartley and Chris Elliot on their Facebook page by clicking on it here.