It was a quick cut—a passing comment, really, that served as a glancing blow among preteen girls around a sticky Formica table in a crowded middle school cafeteria. Faces are now fuzzy, a kaleidoscope of teased hair and blue eyeshadow and jean jackets and Swatches. But the words are as searing today as they were more than 30 years ago when I was 12 and uncool and uncertain and unconfident. It’s funny how that shy awkward girl peeks out from time to time, a questioning presence from the past that asks me if despite the growth, despite the experiences, despite the successes, we might still be lacking. We sit together, hanging on a moment long ago, alone now at that long-gone cafeteria table, feeling…everything.

Moments—they are the focal points on which we paint our life portraits. Some make us cringe—those shameful moments that make us feel inadequate or undeserving or just plain dumb. Other moments are kinder, memories of love and joy and happiness that we cling to like a security blanket, filling us with warmth and gratitude. And then there are those moments that fundamentally alter the course of our lives—a great continental shelf that gives way, plunging us into a new world where life’s boundary lines are irrevocably redrawn.

I don’t know about you, but I often find that I get defined by my life’s moments. One negative encounter, one harsh comment, one piece of criticism, and I am cycling through every time in my life where I felt inadequate, or embarrassed, or just plain wrong. One amazing success and I’m suddenly content to stay in this space, to be confined to the safety of a present accomplishment, and never risk anything again. And yet, both of those tendencies are false narratives of who I am and who I was created to be.

The Bible is chock-full of people who could have been defined by moments. Moses killed an Egyptian and fled the country. David brought down his entire household when he coveted someone else’s wife. Saul stood by and encouraged a crowd to murder the apostle, Stephen. Jacob…well…let’s just say this patriarch of the faith had a LOT of moments that could have defined him. And yet, in the lives of each of these men, God was writing a different story. God didn’t let these moments define Moses, David, Saul, or Jacob. Instead, he used them along with a thousand other moments to tell his story of salvation and restoration.

The truth is, while our lives might be compiled of moments, we are not defined by them. Or rather, we should not be defined by them. It’s like pointing to one image on the Sistine Chapel and labeling it Michelangelo’s penultimate work. While beautiful, it was a paid commission, and not necessarily indicative of who Michealangelo was as a human being. Honestly, other than the chapel, David, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I couldn’t tell you anything about Michealangelo. In the same way, I couldn’t tell you anything about the speaker in the middle school cafeteria years ago, other than the fact that she happened to say something snarky that hurt my feelings when I was in SIXTH GRADE!

So, why do we hold onto moments like they’re the be all, end all of our existence? Why do we continue to cling to them as if they’re a lifeline, rather than the single strand of experience that they are?  Like the saints who came before us, God is writing a bigger story in our lives. It is a story made up of countless moments. There are moments that sparkle, and others that burn. There are moments filled with laughter, and others punctuated by tears. There are moments we are proud of, and others we’d just as soon forget. God wants each of these moments, the hard, the shocking, the beautiful, the mundane because they are part of the masterpiece he is creating in our souls. If we elevate one moment above all others, we distort the story he is seeking to tell—that we are a people redeemed and loved and created to do good things.

I don’t know what moments you’re holding onto, but I do know that God is ready for you to let them go—to move past the past and embrace the whole beautiful, messy sum of who God is creating you to be. Let God tell his story in you, and marvel at the wonder of his work.

Blessings and Peace,

Sara