The dawning of the nineteenth century brought about the birth of nations. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm chased down folk and fairy tales, realizing that it was in the telling of Germany’s stories that identity could be unearthed.

The Book of Judges opens on a contrasting landscape: the people had forgotten their stories and so they lost sight of who they were each time they were conquered.

But many years later, an eight-year-old king discovered some forgotten scrolls and sought out a storyteller. Although Judah was later conquered by many empires, in the telling of their stories, they remembered who they were even though it would be centuries until they had a land to call their own.

In telling our stories, we tap into an incredible source of strength and power, not only for us but for those around us as well. Revelation 12:11 tells us that when the enemy attacks, we overcome “by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of [our] testimony.”

In telling our stories, we have the power to overcome.

Although our stories are filled with twists and turns, we have the bright hope and blessed assurance that one day He will call us into yet another new story – one that He has been preparing for years.

Rather than reaching the point of happily ever after, we will realize that our once upon a time is really only just beginning.

A story is not a story without a plot and a plot is not a plot without conflict. Because of a central conflict, we cheer for the hero and boo the villain. A story’s conflict gives the plot its structure.

The conflict that governs so many of our stories predates us by many, many years – one that played out on a balcony of heaven where Satan rebelled against God. This same conflict, in different manifestations, continues to play out in the lives of humanity.

Our own personal plots play out as we encounter conflicts with nature and mortality. When illness strikes, this conflict often takes center stage. The difficulties we encounter in relationships with others elaborate on our personal conflict plots.

Still, perhaps the darkest battles we fight are the ones located deep within us – as we find ourselves at war within ourselves. These are the conflicts that are hard to explain because they are so intensely personal.

Our conflicts are what make up our stories.

The basic structure of beginning, middle, and end are set up around the conflict that we hope will be resolved. The beauty of our stories is that God always has a plan for resolution and restoration.

No matter how conflicts have defined us or continue to govern our stories, there is always hope when we stop trying to solve and explain every conflict on our own and invite Him into the process of writing our stories.

A great story often has at least one of two things: a great plot or great characters.

Your story has both. But it features you as its primary character. You, with all of your strengths and weaknesses, attributes and flaws, are the central character of your narrative. The fact that it is your story makes it special and different from every other story on the planet.

You are an individual – completely unique – which means your story is completely unique.

The Population Reference Bureau estimates that roughly 108 billion people have lived since God first created man in His own image. And the amazing thing about that is that there has never been anyone like you. No one has ever had your exact DNA structure. No one has ever had your exact personality. No one has ever had your exact experiences.

The brilliant Dr. Seuss once wrote: “Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.”

There never has been and never will be another you. Sometimes we can look at others’ lives and stories and wish we could trade. However, Your purpose is completely unique – only you can fulfill it. Your Author has tailor made your story for you. No other character can fill your role. You are the hero around which the plot revolves. What will you do with your story?

Human beings are wired for stories.

We relive and express our memories through story. After death, we live on in the stories of our loved ones. We think in stories because they provide a context for facts. When you get the magical alchemy of the living writer sharing the story, there is potential for transformation. Lives can be changed by storytelling.
 
There is a reason we hear fairy tales as children. They teach us values and morals. It is through story that we learn about our own identity. Neil Gaiman once said,

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.”

The stories we listen to are the stories that write our lives. If we want to change our lives, it begins with changing the stories we listen to.
 
Hebrews 11 presents us with the lives of some of the greatest heroes of faith who have ever lived. It is an anthology – a collection of stories. Alongside the expected stories (like Abraham, Moses, Joseph, and David), are the seemingly unheroic ones (like Rahab, Barak, and Gideon).

Still, the great Author saw their value. And He has never set the pen aside.

He continues to write our stories with the same dedication and care that He put into theirs. Join us in this series of articles as we explore the importance of our stories and of the One who continues to write them. 

Ephesians 6:16 highlights one of the most important pieces of weaponry a Christian should carry:

”Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.”

When we think of the way the shield was used in battle, one of the most beautiful demonstrations was a Roman tactic. When fighting as a group, a phalanx of soldiers could position their shields so as to form an enclosure around themselves, called a testudo (tortoise).
 
This is what faith does – when our stories and lives are joined to those who have come before us, we are linked to a heritage that cannot be easily overcome. We are joined with people who currently are a part of the faith but also with every single person who has come before us. When one of us struggles or falls, the others come around that person in their defense.
 
Sometimes we face situations we’ve never faced before. It’s in that moment that the enemy comes in like a flood and we don’t know what to do.

But then a story comes to mind – we remember what Abraham or Moses did in that situation. In these moments, our faith is to be joined to the faith of others. When our one shield combines with others, we position our faith around the body of believers and we can help one another. When someone among us is weak, we can shield them momentarily until they are strong enough to stand again.

Faith is our belief but it is also our identity.

Of all of the things it could be to us, how beautiful it is that faith is our shield. 

Jim Robertson finally caught a glimpse of his son, Derek, as he positioned himself at the starting line.

Despite eight surgeries worth of injuries, Derek had qualified for the 1992 Barcelona Olympics as one of the favorites and Jim was so proud.

A shot rang out and Derek ran fiercely, with Jim cheering him on.

Then it happened.

Just after the 250 meter mark, Derek fell to the ground, pain across his face, and watched his chances at gold fade into a cloud of dust. Still, he was determined to finish. Watching the agony that flashed across his son’s face with every broken hop, Jim fought his way through the crowds.
Others saw a defeated athlete but Jim saw a boy in need of his father. Making his way past security, he took his weeping son into his arms and whispered into his ear,

“Look, you don’t need to do this. You can stop now, you haven’t got nothing to prove.”

But Derek was determined and so Jim half-carried him for the remaining 100 meters, pushing away anyone who attempted to deter them.
65,000 onlookers rose to their feet in a standing ovation as father and son crossed the finish line.

Few people can name the man who won the 400 meter race that year but countless people have been inspired by the father who defied an arena’s authorities to wrap his weeping child in his arms, sharing his strength with him, so they could cross the finish line together.