Sharing Your Story When It Feels Too Ordinary to Matter

How many of you have ever thought, “My story isn’t dramatic enough to share?”

Like maybe you didn’t have the big, obvious before-and-after. No headline. No mic-drop moment. Just… life. And a steady God. If that’s you, you’re not behind. You’re not boring. And you’re not disqualified from sharing your story.

Here’s the thing. Most of the moments that have strengthened my faith didn’t happen on a stage. They happened in a kitchen. In a carpool line. In a quiet conversation over coffee. And those are exactly the kinds of moments God loves to use when we’re sharing your story with someone who needs hope.

Can I tell you something I’ve learned the slow way?

We tend to measure a testimony by how shocking it sounds. But God measures it by obedience. By love. By the way it points people back to Him. That’s why sharing your story isn’t about trying to impress anyone. It’s about offering encouragement, one honest sentence at a time.

God works in the ordinary places on purpose

I remember sitting at my kitchen table, coffee in hand, thinking what God had done in my life felt too ordinary to even mention. And then it hit me. Our everyday moments matter. God shows up in the regular places.

So if your story is “I kept praying,” or “I stayed,” or “I forgave,” or “I asked for help,” that is not nothing. That is fruit. That is faith in real life.

Sometimes the quiet stories are the ones that land the deepest

I once sat with a friend at a coffee shop while she shared how she finally found peace in her marriage. It wasn’t dramatic. She just spoke honestly about what she walked through and how God met her in the middle. And you know what? Her story changed my week.

That’s what we forget. Sharing your story doesn’t have to be loud to be life-giving. It just has to be real.

Scripture keeps it simple. Psalm 107:2 (CSB) says, “Let the redeemed of the Lord proclaim that he has redeemed them from the power of the foe.”

Not “let the dramatic proclaim.” Not “let the ones with the perfect words proclaim.” Just the redeemed.

And proclaim can look like a lot of things. It can look like sharing your story in a small group. Or texting a friend, “God met me this week.” Or telling your daughter what you’re learning in your own quiet time.

Proclaiming doesn’t mean telling everything

This is where I want to bring a little peace. Sharing your story wisely doesn’t mean sharing every detail with every person. Discernment matters. There are times to speak and times to wait. Being bold is about obedience, not over-sharing.

If you’ve ever felt pressured to “say more” to prove your testimony is valid, you can let that pressure go.

Does this sound familiar?

You hear someone else’s testimony and it feels big. Clean. Like a movie. And then you look at yours and think, “Mine is just… normal.” Or maybe, “Mine is still in progress.” Or, “Mine doesn’t have a neat ending.”

Friend, that’s most of us. And your testimony can still be strong while it’s still being written.

Comparison makes us quiet

Comparison is sneaky. It whispers that our story has to look like someone else’s to matter. But God doesn’t want a copy. He wants you.

And when we stop comparing, sharing your story gets simpler. It turns into, “Here’s what God is teaching me.”

Perfection makes us wait too long

Some of us won’t start sharing your story because we’re waiting for a perfect ending. The tidy bow. The full healing. The complete breakthrough.

But what if the most helpful words you can say right now are, “I’m still learning,” or “I’m still trusting,” or “I don’t have it all figured out, but God is steady”?

That kind of honesty builds trust. It makes room for someone else to breathe.

I get it. Sharing your story can feel intimidating. Especially if you’re not naturally a “public” person.

But it can start small. Like very small. Here are a few ways I’ve seen this work in real life, in our community and in my own conversations.

Start with one moment, not your whole timeline

You don’t have to start at childhood and run all the way to today. Pick one moment where God met you.

The prayer God answered (even in a simple way)
The boundary you finally set
The peace you felt when you should’ve been spiraling
The verse that anchored you this week

That counts as sharing your story. It’s not small to the person who needs it.

Use the “Here’s where God met me” sentence

This is one of my favorite simple starting points. “Here’s where God met me.” It takes the pressure off. It keeps the focus on Him. And it’s exactly what sharing your story is meant to do.

Try it like this.

“Here’s where God met me in my anxiety.”
“Here’s where God met me in my marriage.”
“Here’s where God met me in a hard parenting season.”
“Here’s where God met me when I felt unqualified.”

Not everyone gets front-row access to your life. That’s okay. Find one or two safe people. The kind who listen without fixing. The kind who can pray with you after you share.

Community confirmation matters. Sometimes we need someone to look at our “ordinary” and say, “I see God in that.”

Write it down before you say it out loud

If speaking feels hard, start with writing. Journaling has a way of slowing us down so we can actually notice God’s hand in our story. It brings clarity. It helps you remember faithfulness. And it gives you words when your mind goes blank.

You can keep it simple. Bullet points count. A timeline counts. A “thank You, God” list counts.

Can I be honest? Sometimes we think sharing your story has to include the hardest parts in full detail to be “real.”

But real doesn’t mean graphic. Real doesn’t mean you spill everything. Real means you’re honest about what God has done and what He’s doing, rooted in hope, not heaviness.

I like to do a quick heart check. Is it loving? Will it encourage someone? Does it bring peace or build up my family?

That doesn’t mean sharing your story will always feel easy. But it helps you share with wisdom.

Let the point be grace, not your grit

When you’re sharing your story, you don’t have to make yourself the hero. You don’t have to perform strength. You can simply point to the grace of God that carried you.

Sometimes it looks like, “I didn’t know what to do, but God provided.”

Sometimes it looks like, “I was shaky, but I kept showing up.”

That kind of testimony gives other women permission to keep going too.

This is my favorite part.

When one woman shares honestly, it opens the door for another woman to exhale and say, “Me too.” That’s where healing starts. Not because we all have the same story, but because we realize we’re not alone.

That’s what community does.

We don’t need louder stories, we need more honest ones

I’ve watched women open up about fear, doubt, and not feeling qualified. And what follows is almost always the same. Someone else gets brave too.

Sharing your story creates a ripple. And you may never fully see how far it goes.

Try this gentle challenge this week

Take five minutes. That’s it.

Write down one way you saw God show up this week, even if it felt tiny.
Turn it into one sentence you could say out loud.
Share it with one safe person (a friend, your small group, your spouse), or write it in a note to yourself.

That is sharing your story. And it matters more than you think.

A few reminders for the woman who still feels “too normal”

Let me leave you with this.

Your story doesn’t have to be polished or complete to be helpful.
You don’t need a microphone to make a difference.
Sharing your story is about obedience and love, not performance.
God uses ordinary faithfulness more than we realize.
When you share, you make room for someone else to believe again.

And friend, if your story feels quiet, that doesn’t mean it’s weak. It might mean it’s steady. And steady faith is a gift to all of us.

We need it. Our homes need it. Our churches need it. Our community needs it.

So take the pressure off. Take a deep breath. And when God opens the door, practice sharing your story in the simple, honest way you can.

I’m cheering you on.

Sharing Your Story When It Feels Too Ordinary to Matter

God works in the ordinary places on purpose

Sometimes the quiet stories are the ones that land the deepest