Letters from Dell
The Telling of a Story
That wild and imaginative little boy of mine has his own story he loves to tell. His journey through fantasyland begins when asked a seemingly simple question. How old are you? Upon hearing these words, his brain triggers an additional set of signals. These "special" signals go to the "fantasy train” that had, up until the asking and hearing of that question, (How old are you?) been sitting idle. His eyes light up, his lips begin to curl and extend into a huge grin, for this child is about to engage in one of his favorite activities, and he's going to take as many as he can with him on his fantasy trip.
He begins with a very simple, one word
answer to that most common request. He responds: "Two."
A discerning individual would carefully consider his answer. But no, they
all fall into his snare and question him further. And so, the train
heads clickety clack down the tracks.
"I've only been on this earth two years." he grins. No adult can
resist asking him to explain. It is amusing to see intelligent adults
trying to figure out how this child, who stands nearly shoulder
high, could possibly be two years old. "Do you want to know
why?" he continues with a grin. It is at this point that he
knows he has you hooked. And so he leans in to corral that last questioning
strand of doubt.
"I AM two." he insists. He commences to reveal his story.
He explains how he's not really human. He's from Mars (he still pronounces
it Mar-ez). He continues with how he and his dad lived on Mars for four years.
After his real mother died, he and his dad built a spaceship to take them to
earth. The trip took two years. After they got to earth, I adopted
him. That's why he's only been on earth two years.
Somehow, he tells the story so convincingly that the general response
is (directed to me): "You've adopted such a bright little boy."
When I inform them that he wasn't adopted, they look at me as though I am
the one who is confused.
The reason for sharing this story is not because I birthed an alien son, but
because I felt convicted the last time he told his story. You see,
invariably, when Issie tells his story, the person with whom he is speaking will
beckon to the nearest person they see and ask them to come over.
"You've got to hear this!" they say. He's asked to start over
and then another and another joins the crowd to hear him recite this
nonsense.
As I stood in the background awaiting the conclusion of his rendition of
"Issie in Wonderland", I thought to myself, "When was the last
time I told my story of Jesus and a crowd formed around me?" Have
I ever been so compelling when I talked about Jesus that the listener called
others over to hear the story? My prayer is this: "Lord make my real
testimony as alive, engaging, and effective as this little boy's make-believe
story."
One way or the other, we all tell a story.
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