The Brightest and the Best, or Not

Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you were called into this life. I don't see many of  "the brightest and the best" among you, not many influential, not many from high society families. Isn't it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these "nobodies" to expose the hollow pretensions of the "somebodies"? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have...comes from God -St. Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians.
 
Recently I've been gnawing on this idea-- "take a good look at you."

Do you know who you are?

It's a good question for anyone, but especially for those of us who purpose to make a living, or at least a name, for ourselves, being creative. To be vulnerable and honest, you have to know what's there to begin with, otherwise your work always sounds as fake as the veneer finish on my dining room table looks.

And sometimes, if we're honest, what comes out of our crazy stories  looks foolish.

And sometimes it looks like stuff we might prefer that we could stuff under the bed or wad up and toss away.

But those foolish things, those small things, seem to be what God delights to use.

Last week I had the privilege of listening to my dad participate in local veterans oral history project at Middle Tennessee State University. I sat and listened for three hours as he related hist personal history, from growing up on Lookout Mountain to finding himself in the middle of the Evacuation of Saigon as a marine.

I watched as his arms tightened and he sometimes held his knuckled fist. Sometimes he almost choked up as he recounted the terror of possibly not coming back home.

As I sat there, hearing some stories I had never heard before, pieces began falling in place, suddenly explaining who my dad is, why he sometimes does the things he does. I also understood why he has tried to love and protect my mom, brother, and I so fiercely. I can also understand a little bit better the pain he's felt for so many years.

It was actually a bit of a grapple to get Dad to tell his story, he couldn't understand the value of it--he thinks it's sad and horrible and even boring. He's not sure what value anyone would get out of it.

 I'm still trying to explain that it helps me understand him; that it will help others understand more veterans.

I wonder how many of us do this--undervalue our own stories? Thinking, wondering what good it will do? Assuming it's not valuable, assuming it's foolish or stupid.

St. Paul says these stories, these things have value. It's the kind of thing God uses for His purposes.

A good reminder for writers. Perhaps we cannot always see the value in our stories yet, but our job is to write them. The results are not up to us.