Story, ... how telling

So, I've been enjoying this amazing book, Story, by Steven James. There's a lot to ponder. It's my latest "must read" recommendation. Some of what he says are some of the very words I've said in recent teachings in Colorado. He got it into print first and said it better. But it surely meshed with what I've been thinking and sometimes verbalizing. Excerpts follow:

There's a Jewish saying: "God created man because he loves stories." I think that has a lot of truth to it. But not only does God love stores, he loves the people whose stories are being told moment by moment across the globe. And I'm amazed that the story of my choices, mistakes, regrets -- the story of my life -- actually matters to God.

I think what makes us unique isn't so much our height or shape or fingerprints or eye color but our histories, our stories. We are our stories. And we only connect with other people when we know their stories. The more intimate we are, the more our stories intertwine.

When Jesus was born, the Word of God became flesh, enmeshed in a story. The storyteller entered the tale. The author stepped onto the page. The poet whose very words had written the cosmos became part of the text of this world.

It's so absurd, this king of the galaxies lying in a feed box for animals, this Creator crying in the stable. Anyone can see at this point that this story isn't man-made. Who would ever believe it? If I were making up a religion that I wanted people to believe in, I'd never insert stuff like this. Only God could tell a story this ludicrous and then claim that it is true.

Jesus, the real Jesus, is earthshaking. He will both calm your soul and send a tidal wave of truth crashing through your spirit. As soon as you try to figure him out or wrap your mind around him, you'll get lost in the mystery of this man.

child of heaven,

son of earth.
fragrance of light,
strength of eternity.
former of worlds,
shaper of souls.
storm of glory,
love of God.
tamer of tempests,
raiser of the dead.

offender of the religious,
befriender of the outcast.
lion of conquest,
lamb of sacrifice.
hero of the ages,
talebearer of eternity.
king of all kings,
servant of all servants.
calmer of consciences,
disturber of the peace.

He is the mystic, majestic, mysterious Jesus. Holiness wrapped in humanity. He sneezed, coughed, yawned, burped, and got the hiccups, and yet he could walk on water, step through walls, and raise the dead.

When you try to prod at him, he prods at you. And when you finally meet him face-to-face, he'll shake your world -- hardened criminals have been known to fall to their knees, shield their eyes, tremble, and weep at his feet. That's what happens when the veil is lifted and you finally glimpse his terrible, irresistible, glorious, soul-consuming love.

The story of God becoming man is incomprehensible. Only fools would dare to believe it. And the idea that God loves us enough to die for us? Preposterous. I'm staggered at the thought of the world-whisperer speaking my name, of the almighty breaking into song at the thought of me or coming to earth to die for me. Yet that is the truth, that is the mystery of Jesus.

Steven James, Revell Books, 2006