The Story

Maya Angelou once said, "There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." Having not written much for the past year, the pull of untold stories finally overwhelmed me. For over a year they have built up, and now the tension is beyond a nap or run or tasty meal. I long to share with you stories about marriage and nursing and life in the dirty D and world events and how I see it all fitting together.

I reckon that some of these stories will be as mundane as tea, and some will be as abstract and over-arching as time, but I hope that the mundane and the grand will leave us all in wonder of our Creator, else I have failed as a writer and story teller.

And so we begin...

Some friends of ours live in Central Asia, in a country that will remain unnamed for security purposes. They moved there because they love Jesus and want to make Him known among people that do not know Him, for they know the depth of love and peace He has to offer. Many in this country need such love and peace, yet they might even kill a person for mentioning the name of Jesus publicly.

For months they lived there, learning the language, studying the culture, befriending their neighbors, and praying they might share the story of Jesus quietly within their community. Hiring a housekeeper was a norm, and necessity, in their city, and soon after arriving they found a local lady looking for work. She worked day in and day out, and my friend continually tried to find ways of sharing Jesus with her despite the language barrier.

By Christmas, the language barrier was being broken down and my friend and her housekeeper were talking while putting up Christmas decorations. My friend began to tell her the story of Christmas, and her housekeeper said, "I know this story, and I believe it." My friend nearly fell out. She quickly recovered and said, "Come tell my husband what you just told me," fearing she had misunderstood the housekeeper. Her husband confirmed that she had indeed understood, and the housekeeper continued, "Yes, and my husband believes also." In a country that is over 99% Muslim, my friends had hired a woman who believed in Jesus--a woman who desperately wanted to know Him more.

Two years before, someone had shared the story of Jesus with this dear lady and her husband, and they secretly believed despite no other teaching or a Bible to read. They longed for someone to teach them, and then my friends arrived and brought them under their roof, then into their lives.

It seems that people from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation long to know more of Jesus, witnessed by those that go to tell of Him. Stories much like this one from all over the world trickle in. They involved unknown people in desolate and dangerous places--people who are not making a name for themselves but for Jesus. They will never grace the cover of books or headlines in the newspaper. Still, they quietly work to make Him known. Quietly and continually...to make Him known.