As a teenager, every weekend, my early morning ritual was to scan through the Delhi Times, finding a good movie to watch and accordingly negotiating TV time with my mother. If TV channels weren’t accommodating, books borrowed from the school library always came to the rescue.
The world of stories became so alluring that I would devour every page and decode every scene to get the narrative right. Soon, I found myself entangled in this world of narratives, where the endings mattered as much as the stories that led up to them. I was in awe of writers who could build a whole new world on a sheet of paper or summarise one in 90 minutes.
A narrative is a story, or an account of connected events. These events might occur over days or even years, but sometimes, their impact leaves a lasting impression on your own story, such as a heartbreak, the loss of a loved one, landing a dream job, or becoming a parent.
Narration matters because it's the way you tell your story to the world. It's how you choose to see those events and unveil the impact they have had on your life. It's the essence of your story, like spices to a meal; it can add that warmth and comfort to a dish.
After losing my mother a few years ago, the narrative of my story had taken a complete U-turn. I was no longer the ambitious girl; I was now a victim of the thing called life, barely trying to pull it together. There was no desire to dream—friendships were lost, a successful career became just another mode of survival, slowly tearing away every ounce of confidence that I had taken years to build.
Whenever I would meet new people, I would quickly disclose how I had lost my mother, as if to make up for the things I could not achieve in life. I had started to look at myself as a failure.
But it was in these darkest days of my life that I met God. As I was struggling to cope in a world without my mother, I came across this verse on a Bible App.
“As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you” Isaiah 66:13
It renewed a hope that was long lost. It wasn’t like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but it felt like someone had just handed me a flashlight to get through the dark tunnel. I got curious about the God who was capable of comforting His own through a push notification. Every verse strengthened me, as God purposely revealed how He was the author and finisher of my story.
The narrative of my story began to change slowly because God got involved. The victim in me was finally healing. The events that had brought the most hurt became sharp curves in the path that led me to God. The season that drowned me in sorrows also showed me the depth of God’s love.
The factual events remained the same, but with revived hope, love, and joy, and with a renewed heart, I began to look at them as a season of learning. I was able to build my story with more kindness, not of my own strength but from God.
Now the reason why I love narratives so much makes more sense. Not because I know how my story ends, but because I know who writes it.
“...looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:2
Photo by Mike Tinnion on Unsplash
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