November 8, 2009 - "My Story"

Hebrews 9:24-28

What’s your story?

Everyone has a story to tell … and every story is important.

I recently read a biography on Carl Sandburg.

One of my favorite poets, but now I know a little more about his life – how hard it was in the early years … how he toiled to perfect his poetry – often against great odds, because his poetry was different – and the critics were harsh – but Sandburg and his wife were a marvelous team, supporting one another in the face of professional hardship and personal sorrows.

Knowing a little more of Sandburg’s story, I have an even deeper appreciation for Sandburg’s poetry.

When I read his Chicago poems, I can hear the clank of steel and I can smell the smoke.

When I read of the people who’s story Sandburg wanted to tell, I can see their toil in sprawling factories, feeding the blast furnaces; I can see miles and miles of railroad cars lurching into Chicago loaded with cattle and hogs, to feed a hungry nation.

Sandburg has a story to tell.

I’m currently reading a Hemingway biography.

I’ve read plenty of his stuff over the years, but to learn about Hemingway – his growing up years in Chicago, summers in Petoskey, Michigan ...

An ambulance driver on the Italian front in World War 1 – journalism in Europe; living in Paris - his books take on a new meaning for me … as I get to know Hemingway’s story.

What’s your story?

May I tell you my story?

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!

Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!

Heir of salvation, purchase of God,

Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song,

Praising my Savior all the day long;

This is my story, this is my song,

Praising my Savior all the day long.

“Blessed Assurance” - written by Fanny Crosby …

One of my childhood memories, singing “Blessed Assurance” in church next to Mom and Dad, just across the aisle from Dan Smies and my Sunday School teacher Burt, and Elmer with the lisp and Mary with the little mole on her chin.

Voices soaring, faith filling the sanctuary, organ and piano cranking it out, “This is my story, this is my song” - “Blessed Assurance, Jesus Is Mine.”

A wonderful hymn of faith, just as it is.

But even greater when we know something about the author.

Fanny Crosby was born blind in 1820 … and blind she would remain for all her years.

Yet grace was found in the darkness.

Ms. Crosby penned more than 8000 poems, thousands of which were set to music and became beloved hymns sung by millions of Christians all around the world to this very day.

In 1858, Fanny married Alexander Van Alstyne, a fellow teacher at the New York Institution of the Blind, a musician and a composer, and he, too, blind.

Their only child, a daughter named Frances, died as an infant.

After Fanny and her husband were married 44 years, he died in 1902.

A preacher said to Fanny one day: "I think it is a great pity that the Master did not give you sight when He showered so many other gifts upon you."

She replied quickly, "Do you know that if at birth I had been able to make one petition, it would have been that I should be born blind?"

"Why?" asked the surprised pastor.

"Because when I get to heaven, the first face that shall ever gladden my sight will be that of my Savior!"

We all have two stories to tell.

We have our own personal story, our biography: where we were born, schools attended, work and career, and a fair share of laughter and tears along the way – that’s one story.

Then we have Christ – the other story, the rest of the story, the bigger story – “blessed assurance, Jesus is mine, oh what a foretaste of glory divine.”

Our personal story is a tiny chapter in a huge, giant, book – and maybe not even a chapter, maybe just a few pages, or even just a footnote … but we’re all there in that story, that great, incredible story, with the likes of Sarah and Abraham, Moses and Miriam, Mary and Joseph and John the Baptist … King Herod and Caesar and Pilate are there, too – Zacchaeus up a tree and the woman at the well; blind Bartimaeus and the man in the tombs … the long march of history, millions of stories, all wrapped up into Christ.

THIS is our story, THIS is our song, praising our Savior all the day long.

If our story grows dark,

The light of Christ shines brighter.

When our story loses its meaning,

The love of Christ arises stronger and clearer.

When our story ends,

The story of Christ goes on.

Yesterday, at the Griffith Observatory, the overwhelming smallness of my story … a tiny blip in a small galaxy in a faraway corner of the universe.

Our story is a very small one, indeed.

But in Christ, our story has eternal meaning.

You see, we don’t need to have a big story.

Because we have a big Savior.

It’s good to know this.

So we don’t make such a fuss about ourselves.

It’s good to know this,

So at every turn in the road, we turn to see Christ standing there.

The man of Galilee … hands outstretched to us.

With bread for the hungry.

Drink for the weary.

Love for the lost.

Grace greater than sin.

THIS is our story, THIS is our song.

For reasons known only to God,

God has brought us to Christ.

God has put Christ inside of us,

And put us inside of Christ.

As the years of our life unfold and flow toward their inevitable end, we grow into Christ, and Christ grows into us – at first, his story is small, small enough to fit into a child’s imagination … and then, one day, his story becomes the main story of our life … and in the end, when our little story comes to the last page, when the book of our life is gently closed, Christ is there!

It’s his story …

It’s history …

Grace and mercy,

Peace and providence,

Hope and courage,

Faith and love,

Salvation and glory.

Bethlehem’s Cradle and Calvary’s Cross.

Three days in the tomb.

The stone rolled away.

Ascension into heaven and the promise to return,

A trumpet blast and the work is finished.

The new heaven and the new earth.

We discover, one day, that we are not own,

But that we belong,

To a faithful Savior.

That we are not our own.

For we were bought with a price.

The life of Christ given for us.

One day we awaken, and discover that we are not our own.

Have never been and never will be.

But always a possession of God!

That’s who we are.

And that’s our story.

“Blessed Assurance, Jesus is mine.

Oh what a foretaste of glory divine.”

Amen and Amen!