Lent: Tell the Story

Each Sunday in Lent, we’ve been examining a particular Disciple’s story in order to better see how we can be more faithful disciples. Each of “The Twelve,” as they’re sometimes called, weren’t superheroes but rather normal people like you and me. Their stories, while located in a certain time period, are still human stories. Like human beings around the world and across time, the original twelve disciples had many of the same issues that we have. Some of them may have come from broken families, and most would have experienced the loss of a parent by the time Jesus called them, among many other events and personal challenges in those turbulent 1st Century time. Even Jesus, with his God-in-man status, was not immune to the ebbs and flows of family fortune. Joseph, Jesus’s earthly “father,” is never mentioned after the birth story, leading many Bible scholars to conclude that he had passed away by the time Jesus began his ministry. Even Jesus would have felt the pangs of grief as he watched Joseph’s passing. All of them had stories, and God loved them. So, what’s your story?

The interaction we’ve been doing during worship this Lent is supposed to help you tell your faith story to others. What brought you to Jesus? What brought you to St. Paul’s? What Disciple do you personally identify with? Is there something in their story that connects with yours? Telling our story is vitally important in forming a healthy church, and joining together to hear how God has worked in someone else’s life is one of the greatest gifts we can give another person. This is essentially what happened in the early Methodist movement, and why it grew with such speed across England in the 18th Century. Fellow disciples, banding together in groups of 6-12 people to pray with each other, share each others’ stories, listen, and together answer the question, “How is it with your soul?”

This Lent, as we listen to the stories of these men who lived with Jesus long ago, let’s ask ourselves, “Is it my story too?”

Repent and believe,

Robert