STORY TIME

I am currently reading a book. A story. It’s a pretty long story. Taken years to write it. It’s a romance, an epic adventure, a technical how-to text, poetry, even a mystery. It’s part funny, serious, melodramatic, matter-of-fact. I read and find myself embracing all the emotions… happiness, sadness, anger, wonder… at some point or another.

Some chapters in this story move with fast-paced intrigue and suspense. Other parts develop slowly, at times seemingly coming to a standstill, but never really. Parts of the story contain vivid and colourful descriptions. Other parts are quite stark, black and white. Sometimes, the words are eloquent and flowing. Sometimes, they are chopped up, awkward. The main character is both protagonist and antagonist, depending on the chapter.

At times, I read and wish some parts of this book were not written. Still, much as I don’t like, or inspite of those parts, they somehow manage to work together in the whole scheme of things. Other parts of this book don’t really seem to make much sense, that is, until I read on. In fact, I suspect there are even parts that I won’t fully understand until I get to the very end of this book.

The story line is simple, yet intricate. Yes, simply intricate… intricately simple. And so I read on. Chapter by chapter. Season by season.

But it’s not finished yet, this book that I’m reading. The story is still being written, even as I read it. Even as I live it. My story. With God as the author. It is wonderfully and fearfully bound together. Written in red and out of love. And although still in the process of being written, I know this work will be brought to completion… to perfection.

And it’s not just my story. My book is but only a part of a compilation of stories – a cloud of witnesses. Stories written by God, because of God, for God. My story. Your story. What a wonderful read. What a wonderful God.