I see the world from my own personal point of view. I know my own story, and I can see the roles other people play in it.

But the world doesn’t revolve around me. I play a role in other people’s stories, too.

Sometimes I’m an extra–another face in the grocery aisle as a widower goes to the store alone for the first time in forty years.

Sometimes I’m a villain–the one who was in such a hurry that I cut off a lady in traffic and made her sit at that long red light twice, causing her to be late for an appointment.

Sometimes I get to be an angel–swooping in to someone’s rescue before flying off again.

Sometimes I have speaking parts. But I get to choose what I say. Will my lines be eloquent? Will they be hastily written?

Out of the hundreds (or thousands, or tens) of people with whom I come into contact in the course of a day, I can only play a significant role in a few of their stories. For most of them, I’ll just be another sound effect, adding to the background noise.

Sometimes, though, my role is very important. My lines matter. It may be a brief encounter or a daily relationship, but the way I enter and exit another person’s story can make a significant impact. An eternal impact, even.

There is a Storyteller at work on a greater Story. He’s working in my story, just like He’s working in all the others–and no single part is insignificant.

Can I hear His direction to come in on cue? I sure don’t want to miss that important chance meeting He has scheduled for me at 10:00. If I forget my lines, He’ll remind me.

But I have to be listening.

And studying the script.

 

 

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