Our least favorite story to tell (and why it’s the most significant)

I pride myself in my resilience, my unshakeable faith and my level-headed mind.

But two years ago, I wasn’t any of those things. Two years ago, I was coming undone.

I was reminded of that time, when something popped up in my newsfeed today. A Facebook status from the past, that stopped me dead in my tracks and reminded me of my least favorite story to tell. The darkest one.

To those reading my status two years ago, I am certain they thought nothing of it. In my words, I was “just going to take a (much-needed) break off Facebook…” like I had done countless times before.

But the darkness wasn’t in the words I wrote, but how purposeful I was in writing them.

I slaved over every word.  Writing… editing…. (the side bar blinking.)…. editing some more….deleting…  until there was just enough humor to deflect from my innermost pain, and I felt I had adequately told my family and friends how much I loved them.

I wanted my sendoff to be kind and lighthearted. Loving and funny, like the Krista we all used to know. The Krista I used to be, before things got so, well, dark. 

At the time in my life when I crafted the words of that Facebook status, I was unsure how — or if, I could hang on much longer.

A very real part of me, even believed those words strung together on social media… could be my last.

(But that’s our least favorite kind of story to tell, isn’t it?)

We don’t want to tell stories of the times where life was too much to bear. When we were drowning in our marriages and our finances. Crumbling under the weight of postpartum depression, a tragic death of a loved one, or our own freaking terrible decisions. (We sure as heck don’t want to admit suicidal Facebook statuses.)

So we hide our darkness away.

Arguing that stories like that, might do more harm than good. “Because you really can’t trust many people with the details…” we’ll say. Only to instead, give the world what it is already in abundance of — our Lo-Fi filtered lives and our perfectly tweetable surface-level wisdom.

All while our darkest stories —and God’s undeniable and miraculous presence in those stories— stay silent.

…Never realizing, they may be the most significant stories He ever gave us to tell! After all, the very first story in the Bible was a dark one. Arguably, the darkest.

In Genesis 1:1-3 it says the earth was formless and empty. All of creation was covered in a bed of complete and utter darkness (much like my life at the time when I wrote that Facebook status.)

But we all know, God didn’t leave the earth trapped in darkness. — Nor, did He leave me that way!

2 Corinthians 4:6 says this, ‘For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God…’

God has brought light to the darkest confines of our hearts, with the same power He used to illuminate the heavens, and all so we could experience His power for ourselves!  — What an incredible story!

If only we might find the courage to tell it…

Psalm 34:1-3 says this, “You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy, that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.

I am happy to report, I am no longer in the dark place I was two years ago. (For the record, I have gone on to post hundreds, if not thousands, of completely uninteresting Facebook statuses preceding the one I feared would be my last.)

And though I once spent every morning, staring at the same place on the wall and wishing I wasn’t here; on this earth and facing another day, my life is now filled with anticipation, belly laughs and dreams I had given up believing could ever again be within my grasp.

God has indeed turned my mourning into dancing, and my darkness into light (He has done it for so many of you as well!) — And God did so, that we might sing praises to Him and not be silent when it comes to sharing our stories with the world!

The only question is will we?

Because in order to tell of His light and all God has done, we’d first have to admit where He found us on our darkest days…

In order to recall the ways God has restored our joy, we’d first have to relive the nights spent writhing in mourning, and writing borderline-suicidal Facebook statuses. (God forbid, He asks you to blog about it…)

Everyday we have a choice. To lift our voice in praise for all that God has done, or to dress up our pride with silence and excuses because we are more concerned with what others will think of our darkness, than we are in glorifying the God who refused to leave us in it.

So I ask you: will we proclaim the miracle it is, that today, we are be able to stand victoriously to our feet, in spite of all the things that have threatened to tear us down?

Or will we choose to keep our darkness silent (and with it, the miraculous workings of our God) because our ego wont allow for us to admit we were ever crippled in the first place?

The choice is ours. It always has been. And it’s no easy decision to make.

Because our least favorite stories to tell, may be the darkest ones…

but they’re arguably also the most significant.

How has God turned your mourning into dancing, and delivered you from your darkest days?

What is one way you can praise Him for what He has done, and not remain silent?