So, this is where I talk about me, huh? Well, that’s about my least favorite subject, so let me tell you a story instead – since that’s what I do. 

It was a dark, stormy night ……… Hahahahaha. 

No, but seriously, I’m gonna try not to do that to you. I want you to come here with all your struggles, find some rest, and maybe see your path a little more clearly. After that terrible start, let me try again: 

My story does begin at night though, somewhere between five and eight years ago; I should tell you that I don’t reckon time like most people, at least that’s what I hear. Rather, I think of time as periods, epochs, or ages – I guess it’s like a history book gathers a section of years. Then, I might as well say that my story begins at the start of “The Age of Jessica Kimbrough.”


Jessica and I met on a typical Sunday afternoon in the middle of August. We went to a small coffee shop in Homewood, AL as quickly as we could after our respective worship services. 

Well, coffee turned to lunch; lunch became dinner, and dinner moved to drinks at Jackson’s Bar. All of our stops were on this one block in downtown Homewood. The buildings looked made from large bricks with the same white-wash. There was one tree stationed every few feet in the cement walkway. 

Jessica and I claimed a metal table in the outside seating area. I’d call it a porch, but I’d be lying. A clear black sky hung overhead, and streetlights drowned any star. 

After our bottle of wine arrived, Jessica’s head shook her chin all the way to her chest. She says, “I can’t believe I haven’t asked you this yet: What do you do?” 

Blessedly, a drink from my glass offered me a moment. I dreaded this question. My answer drew “that’s a nice hobby” from previous dates, and the perpetual pile of rejection letters ought to cause hesitation. Still, Jessica deserved fair warning, and she’d find out anyway, so I said, “I’m a writer.” The words fell from my mouth with the same enthusiasm of a cup settling back on a table after a sip. 

Confusion flashed across Jessica’s face with her momentarily widened eyes, but she didn’t run from the table or laugh in my face – which qualified as an improvement. Still, it was her turn to drink slowly. Her eyes darted between whatever options that her mind presented. Then, she narrowed those lenses at one option before asking, “Oh sure, you’ve got some blog where you provide social commentary and the judgment of God, right?” 

“Um no,” I said as quickly as possible. “In fact, it sounds like you and I share a frustration with those sites, and I can understand that question. They do seem popular these days. However, I write fiction – I tell stories.” 


A mixture of rapid and slow blinks had me trying to remember Morse Code. The confusion about my answer was complete. Jessica blurted in a whisper, “Why?” 

I choked a bit on my drink, because that question interrupted my plans for the next answer. No one had ever asked that before. Now, I was caught without a plan, so the only choice was to start talking. 

I tugged my glasses up my nose and began: “First, I suppose because that’s what Jesus did. Did you know that Jesus only preached six sermons, according to popular opinion? (And by popular opinion, I mean the first four pages of a Google search.) However, He delivered eighteen unique parables in Luke alone and one of the sermons in Matthew includes nine parables. Still, if I stick with the popular opinion, that’s three times the number of parables – stories.” 

Jessica pressed her lips together while rolling her head from side to side. Since she took one more drink, I wagered she was weighing her response, so she was, at least, intrigued. 

“Then, there’s my quest,” I said. “I figure that we’re all on a quest; that’s your faithful journey with and to God. Jesus tells us: ‘Seek and you will find.’ So, what do you seek?” (Matthew 7:7) Without stopping for Jessica’s answer, I continued, “For me, I seek beauty. I know the Truth because the Gospels assure me of that. (I make no claim to a better understanding, knowledge, or anything else. I simply make the claim that I know the Truth.)

“So, instead of seeking the Truth, I seek beauty. The moments where God becomes undeniably with you. The inexplicable joining of the ultimate Objective and the created Subjective. The moments in which the created is unable to ignore the presence of God. 


“If I could tell those stories, perhaps I could light a candle in this dark world. This world is dark and broken, but there’s so much beauty too. Simply sharing that beauty, that light, those moments of wholeness is a delight.” 

Jessica’s eyes widened with a slow nod of her head; I wagered something in all that connected with her. Then, a sigh closed those eyes, and she said, “But I’m so busy; who has time to read?” 

“Yeah,” I said with a chuckle as my Google Analytics page came to mind. “Life is a frantic dance, so take a break for story time. That’s a great thing about story: You can bring all that with you, rest for a moment, and maybe see the reflection of your own life. Then – perhaps, that reflection can hint at the next steps on your path, or at least, be a tool for God’s comfort, provision, and peace.” 

Well – surprisingly enough, Jessica still married me after that conversation, and she, mostly, enjoys reading my stories now. I invite you to give them a try. Click the link below and choose your tale: 

www.jskimbroughii.com