Come And Listen
“Come and listen, all who fear God, and I will tell what he has done for me.” — Psalm 66:16 (CSB)
People have no trouble telling a story when the story is good. Nobody has to be talked into describing the fish, the hunt, the deal they got, or how the game ended. We gather people up and we tell it, sometimes twice.
Then God does something genuinely remarkable in our lives and we go quiet.
David didn't. When God moved, his instinct was to gather people and say, "Come and listen." Not come and admire me. Come and listen to what He has done for me. That's the posture of somebody who understands that his personal experience of God was never meant to stay personal.
Your story belongs to more people than you. The way God carried you through that impossible year. The provision that showed up at the last possible moment. The peace that had no logical reason to be there. Those aren't just memories you keep. They're evidence, and somebody near you needs evidence right now.
And let's name what keeps most of us quiet, because it usually isn't humility. It's fear. Fear that it'll sound preachy. Fear that they'll ask a follow-up question we can't answer. Fear that our story isn't dramatic enough to be worth telling. Let me settle that last one: it doesn't have to be dramatic. It has to be true.
Sharing it doesn't require a stage or a microphone. It's a conversation over coffee. A text to a friend who's struggling. An honest word in a room where everybody else is pretending. The format matters far less than the willingness.
The enemy would very much prefer your story stay buried. He knows what happens when somebody opens their mouth about what God has done.
Write down one specific thing God has done for you in the last two years. Keep it to a few sentences so you could actually say it out loud. Then find one person this week who needs to hear it. You can keep it, or you can tell it. Somebody is waiting on the second option.
Prayer
Lord, thank You for the story You've written in my life. Forgive me for the times I've stayed quiet and called it humility when it was really fear. Give me the courage to tell what You've done. Use my story to strengthen somebody's faith and to point them to You. In Jesus' name, Amen.
People have no trouble telling a story when the story is good. Nobody has to be talked into describing the fish, the hunt, the deal they got, or how the game ended. We gather people up and we tell it, sometimes twice.
Then God does something genuinely remarkable in our lives and we go quiet.
David didn't. When God moved, his instinct was to gather people and say, "Come and listen." Not come and admire me. Come and listen to what He has done for me. That's the posture of somebody who understands that his personal experience of God was never meant to stay personal.
Your story belongs to more people than you. The way God carried you through that impossible year. The provision that showed up at the last possible moment. The peace that had no logical reason to be there. Those aren't just memories you keep. They're evidence, and somebody near you needs evidence right now.
And let's name what keeps most of us quiet, because it usually isn't humility. It's fear. Fear that it'll sound preachy. Fear that they'll ask a follow-up question we can't answer. Fear that our story isn't dramatic enough to be worth telling. Let me settle that last one: it doesn't have to be dramatic. It has to be true.
Sharing it doesn't require a stage or a microphone. It's a conversation over coffee. A text to a friend who's struggling. An honest word in a room where everybody else is pretending. The format matters far less than the willingness.
The enemy would very much prefer your story stay buried. He knows what happens when somebody opens their mouth about what God has done.
Write down one specific thing God has done for you in the last two years. Keep it to a few sentences so you could actually say it out loud. Then find one person this week who needs to hear it. You can keep it, or you can tell it. Somebody is waiting on the second option.
Prayer
Lord, thank You for the story You've written in my life. Forgive me for the times I've stayed quiet and called it humility when it was really fear. Give me the courage to tell what You've done. Use my story to strengthen somebody's faith and to point them to You. In Jesus' name, Amen.
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