Is a Story…Really…Just a Story? :: by Don Twobears

It is sort of strange. Now days we are so consumed by small words, little words with small numbers of letters, like “few.” We have seen that small word become the difference regarding our eternity. Here is what is so strange for me, simply because I am a writer of sorts now; WORDS have come to mean so much more. In some cases they simply leap off the page, as my eyes read the sentence. The problem is this: How many of you are in the same situation while reading?

Many people now days are able to read with proficiency. The question is, how many are able to clearly understand and gain wisdom, from what they have read? I always thought, even as a kid, that was the original purpose of reading. Someone wants to say something, not all research the subject matter, but they eventually get it down on paper. Then someone reads what they have stated on paper. Most of the time they are stories and can be very enjoyable; one is able to visualize what is taking place.

Let me give you an example. My grandsons, to differing degrees, like the old Indian stories that I know. As in the “old days” stories were told from memory (as they did not have a way of writing them down). Now one must understand how to tell a story. You can’t just say, “A kid stood up to a group of grown men with a small knife and the men were impressed by the boys courage and gave him his dad back.” You see, the story would lack so very much; the what, where, whys and whom. Let’s try this again, in a better manner as my ancestors told it to me:

There was once a boy and he loved to run outside every morning and spin around in circles, till he would fall down. So everyone began to call him Spinning bird, which would remain his name until the day he would become a man. “Spinning Bird, stop that before you fall and hurt yourself!” Momma would say. Yet every morning he would perform the same ritual. He loved the feeling he would experience on his skin, whether cold or warm, it would rush across his body as he would spin.

Spinning Bird was the pride of his father, aside from the spinning thing, but boys were boys and they sometimes did strange things. Spinning Bird dreamed of the day, he would become a man and he wanted to be just like his father. He wanted to be brave and courageous, honorable and fearless, to stand tall and everyone would know he was a real man. Spinning Bird loved his father, almost as much as his father loved him. Yet one day, gray clouds covered his little life.

There was a fierce tribe about a day’s ride from their camp and this would at times cause trouble. Most of the time, they would lose a horse or two, maybe have a loss of meat when hunting. Typically it would never end badly, neither side wanted any bad blood to be passed between them. One day his father was hunting alone and was taken prisoner by the other tribe, which is a bad thing, but never as bad, if they killed him. It was a bad day for Spinning Birds tribe and all the men sat and considered what they should do, as they sat before a great fire. This made Spinning Bird angry!”

Early the next morning, Spinning Bird awoke very early and he grabbed his little flint knife and left the camp. If no one else would rescue his father, Spinning Bird would! He walked for miles and miles through the dark and ominous forest, continuously haunted by the sounds of the nocturnal animals. He had forgotten to bring water and food and by the time the sun had risen, his stomach was growling horribly and his lips were chapped. Yet…his anger was great and he keep walking!

Spinning Bird was definitely his father’s son; undaunted, he would get closer and closer to the other tribal camp. He came to a big boulder and stopped to sit and rest, wishing he had listened better to his father and had been better prepared. Suddenly, the bushes parted and 10 members of the other tribe, including the chief, came through. Spinning Bird jumped to his feet and he pulled his small flint knife, with bristling anger all over his face and clinched teeth, He stood his ground. The Chief asked him, “What are you doing little boy, so far from camp?”

Through snarling teeth, Spinning Bird said he was his father’s son and he was here to fight and win his father’s freedom! Of course this caused the men to laugh and this made Spinning Bird even more angry and even a little reckless. One man left his horse to grab him and Spinning Bird, spun around and cut the man’s hand, the man jumped back in surprise. No one was laughing now, they knew Spinning Bird meant business, even if he was small. The Chief sent for Spinning Bird’s Father. When his father arrived, the chief let him go free. Spinning Bird had faced 10 warriors with determination and out of love for his father Spinning Bird showed great courage.

Now Spinning Bird became a man in his tribe. His new name was, “Man with Courage and Great Love!”

So now you see that there can be a great story, if one reads and considers what was written. It is so much more internally fulfilling to read such stories. My life at one time was spent with friends in the Wichita Tribe, as a small boy in school, thus the story. These made my heart fill with pride and to know that being an outcast, as an Indian, was a good thing. Thus I tell these to my grandsons, with hope they will feel the same pride and happiness in being American Indians.

The Word of God is so much more than any story I could tell, because everything needed is there. The history of the Old Testament, the decisions that were made and why and by whom. Everything we could ever need in this life is there, just for the reading and the pleasure of that.

Here is what is so fantastic about the Bible. Not only does it feed us stories of incredible actions, it gives us promises that God keeps every day. The prophecies are incredible on their own and most have come to Truth and we witness that in global archaeology. Then we read of the prophecies to come and we find how awe-striking they are to be in the near future. Most of all we read the love of Jesus Christ for you and me and how HE wants to work in our lives and that heaven is our final future, not death.

Each of us has a story to tell how the Lord God has moved in each of us and that is the story we should be telling others. How strange is it, that the Bible has so many stories, that combined with our own stories, is one true story. We must be about our Father’s business!

The Rapture of the church of Jesus Christ is so very close, we can feel how awesome that event will be. There is no other way to describe what the future holds for us, than what is written in the Word of God. We need to know these things…for ourselves, in that special, small area of our lives that screams for attention and love. To that area that speaks to us about the love of a true and fantastic God.