We all have stories that we can't share. Some stories we can't tell because it would hurt someone in our lives that we love. Some stories result in listeners wanting to offer advice when we are in a place where we just need someone to hear us and sit in silence with us in our pain. And most of all, there are some stories which others just cannot comprehend if they have not gone thru it.

A number of years ago, a colleague and I shared a student. Now in my 22nd year in the classroom, I refer to this student as a "once in a career" type of kid. When my friend and I get together our conversation eventually settles back on the year we shared him and what that experience was like. During that year we reached out to others for help and would talk to fellow colleagues. Often, these fellow colleagues would start to tell us about one of their challenging students. We would stop them. "You don't understand . . ." I can't go into any more detail here due to privacy laws, but even if I could--there's no way I could adequately tell the story in a way that you would get it---even if you have taught in a public classroom, even if you've had many challenging students. It's an untellable story. I'm thankful that I have one friend who experienced it with me because she is able to validate it. This student affected every student in my room, and still affects my life today in ways I can't share. It's an untellable story.

Last night I spent 2 1/2 hours on the phone with a friend who is now going thru an experience I had about 12 years ago. At the time I went thru it, I kept my mouth closed and told no one because it was the right thing to do. I was judged by countless people who heard the other side, and it took years of healing and a pastor who wouldn't give up on me and a God who would not stay silent to bring me safely to the other side. My friend on the phone last night heard the story from my side a few years back. There was a listening ear, there was compassion, there was recognition. But last night? Last night, he told essentially the same story. There was deep understanding in a way not possible before, there was a sharing of commonalities, there was that precious experience of looking across and seeing your own face as in a mirror. I got off the phone and wept with relief---because I wasn't alone anymore. Years of the judgment of others melted away. Years ago, during a prophetic assembly, one of the prophets whispered in my ear, "It wasn't your fault." Last night's call was like God whispering it again.

I have 2 favorite names of God, and I always pair them. Jehovah Shammah and El Roi. The God Who is There and The God Who Sees. For every story I cannot share, He has been there, and He has seen. When there is no one to turn to and no one who believes me or quite gets it----there is yet one who knows the truth and validates my experience. And it just so happens He's also the one who loves me most.

In times, when I have to stay silent and I have to lay my own reputation on the altar, in the times of deep struggle when there is none who can walk beside----there is a God who sees. He is the person MOST interested in me. He tracks me, He waits and HE SEES.

No tear is wasted, no injustice unseen. His perfect eye catches it all and knows the truth when no one else can bear witness.

Jehovah Shammah El Roi sees your untellable stories too. Where are you grieving without an audience? What have you given up that you can't share because to do so would be socially unacceptable? Have you been wrongly judged in a way that you can never make right, and wait only for the Hand of the unseen to bring change? What stories have you tried to tell, only to realize the story's untellable?

Take comfort in knowing you have a God that is watching 24/7. Take comfort in knowing that He sees and it is not lost on Him. Every once in awhile God stops the play of life and shows up to say "Child, I got this one. It's not on your account." I'm not saying we are always right in our estimation of past events. But sometimes, He sends word to let us know He's in the untellable story. He sees. He knows. He's there.

Photo Cred: Photo by Kristopher Roller on Unsplash

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