My mother and I were in the kitchen. I was complaining about my homework: I had to write a story. She promptly dared me to pick an object, any object, in the room. I selected the wooden spoons.
My mother picked one out. It was a brand-new spoon. She pretended night had come. Everyone had gone to bed. Only then, she continued, did everyday objects come to life. In the darkness, the spoons whispered.
“She’s ugly,” said the new spoon, tilting her head toward the oldest, half-burned, most stained spoon in the bunch. “I hope I don’t look like that when I am old.”
“Hush,” said the ladle, “that spoon is the queen.”
“A queen wouldn’t look like that!”
“Oh, but the cook loves that spoon.”
“It’s true,” said the queen. “I’m used every day. When the little girl was ill, I stirred the soup that made her well. When she grew, I stirred the first gravy she ever made. And when she made supper for her fiancé, she was so flustered she left me on the burner. Today, the cook used me to stir the filling for the wedding cake.”
I don’t remember that day’s homework, but the lesson my mother taught me is unforgettable. Stories are everywhere if you use your imagination.
The Bible is a collection of stories. God knows we love to hear them. We imagine what we’d do if we faced another’s circumstances. We identify with the characters and learn from their struggles and triumphs.
“Now faith… is what the ancients were commended for,” says the Bible (Hebrews 11:1–2). What does this have to do with stories and imagination? From Noah to Abraham to Moses and more, the writer of Hebrews uses the stories of the ancients to urge us toward faith, even saying “the world was not worthy of them” (v. 38).
Doesn’t that spark your imagination? What kind of faith did the ancients have? What kind would you like to have? If someone heard your story, would it inspire them? Would it stir them to greater faith in God?
Viva Editing 