There's More to the Story
A few years ago I developed a strange habit. But first, let me explain how I got there.
As a writer, I tend to follow published authors online—names you probably recognize. But as my own book ideas evolved and I dreamt of holding a cover with my name on it, a jealousy began to brew. It was subtle at first. A cringe here. An eye roll there. Until one day, upon seeing an image of yet another writer signing a book contract, I practically yelled into my phone, “What does she have that I don’t?!?” My personal demons were on full display.
It gets worse.
To make myself feel better, I began to tell myself stories about these authors’ lives:
She’s so fake. There’s no way she’s that nice in real life…
Her words are watered down. She’s just a personality, not a real writer…
She’s doing this for the fame, for the money…
My assertions were completely unfounded. I had no reason to think these things. I just knew that for a few seconds the narratives made me feel better. But it didn’t take long for my ego to come crashing down and for a hollowness to settle in. My soul was headed to a twisty place, and I needed to get out of that rut.
Enter: my new habit. Instead of unfollowing the authors or feeding myself falsehoods about their lives, I sought out their stories. Their real stories. Rather than scrolling past an image of an author holding her latest book, I’d stop and read the caption. I’d read her writing. I’d intentionally listen to a podcast interview where I could hear the tone of her voice and sense the humanity between us.
Yes, it all sounds a bit stalker-ish, but here’s what began to happen: The more space I made for other’s stories, the less room I had for comparison and assumption. My compassion grew because even if the details of our lives were different, our experiences of being human were very much the same. The sting of rejection. The ache to belong. The joy of doing something you love. The gut punch that is grief and loss. I remembered that when it comes to being human, there’s always more to the story—and that changed me. My countenance softened, my judgements waned, and my hands began to hold a little less tightly to what I thought was my piece of the pie.
That’s the power of story.
Stories shape who we are and how we connect with others. Whether we realize it or not, our minds, bodies, and souls filter life through a narrative lens. Dr. Curt Thompson writes, “When a person tells her story and is truly heard and understood, both she and the listener undergo actual changes in their brain circuitry. They feel a greater sense of emotional and relational connection, decreased anxiety, and greater awareness of and compassion for others’ suffering.”
Still not convinced you are a storied person? Here’s a simple test: Think about your day. Consider the memories that have replayed in your mind. The conversations you mentally rehearsed before they happened (if they even happened). How that whiff of lemon reminded you of hot summer night sipping lemonade on your grandmother’s front porch. You are, in the words of Leonard Sweet, “a story wrapped in skin.”
But few of us live that way. We forget that behind every image, behavior, or 280-character tweet is a living, breathing, complex person. Much of modern culture has traded narrative for opinion, questions for how-to, imagination for entertainment, slow growth for efficiency, and friends for follows. It’s a world built on consumption, not creation. As a result, we are social and accessible, but far from connected.
It’s sobering, but we do not have to stay here. Our stories offer us a way back to our shared humanity. They hold the creative capacity to change the way we relate to ourselves, to each other, and to God himself. Stories are where we find, in the words of Madeleine L’Engle, the “flashes of truth which make us free” and where we catch glimpses of The Story that is bigger than all of us. By knowing, owning, and exchanging our narratives in our face-to-face lives, we can take a countercultural path that leads us to deeper connection, increased compassion, and a fuller picture of the complex beauty of our Creator God.
So if we’re going to make assumptions, let’s assume there is more to the story—and then go find it.
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coming up next: “The World through Two Eyes”
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feature image by Neal E. Johnson via unsplash
