And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death.
Rev 12:11 (NKJV)
I have the best job. I won’t be convinced otherwise. Not only do I get to tell stories, but I get to listen to and help other people tell theirs. I get to tell God’s stories. We film them and I have the tremendous privilege of putting them together. Every week we release two testimonies on a youtube channel told by the people in our community.
These stories are not the stories of people who are heroes. They aren’t the stories of people who achieve greatness. They are the stories of people who are being saved. They are the stories of a great God. With every batch of footage I import, I am aware of my inability to finish each edit without God’s input. I am so humbled by this privilege and the favour I have received to complete this task.
I am changed by stories of healing, salvation, provision, marriage and parenthood. Not a single account leaves me unaltered. Last year I realised that while I was working in ministry, I was jaded toward God’s Word in people’s lives. People responding to Jesus became a logistical issue, a number on a runsheet instead of a great miracle worthy of great and lavish celebration. This is not the fault of the ministry I worked for. Like the Ephesian Church in Revelation, I had lost my first love. Like Martha, I was all works and no heart.
I earnestly asked God to change my heart and He is, through each of the regular people I see every week, who open their hearts to me, who often need to recount memories of their suffering or to retell the stories of the lives they lived before He changed them. It requires their vulnerability and it demands mine, but it is a beautiful exchange that means my little faith meets with Christ. He slays my scepticism with real and tangible hope.