I was at a party tonight and most of the girls sat around sharing stories. Stories about things our kids had or had not done. We shared accounts of crazy things our husbands have said in response to said children. We got to know each other better by sharing pieces of our days with each other. We instantly became closer by revealing the narratives of our everyday lives.
Since I have written my book, I often have friends walk up to me and say, “I get you now. I totally get you.” I didn’t realize I was hard to figure out, so I have been pondering this for a few days.
What has changed? They know my story.
Stories have power.
Stories change the way people view one another.
Stories reveal the evidence of the conflicts in each others lives.
Stories open up our understanding of each other.
Stories create compassion by allowing others a glimpse into the innermost parts of our being.
Stories illustrate to those around us that we are fallen and in need of a Saviour just like everyone else.
Stories make room for grace.
We could all use more grace. Grace given and recieved.
Maybe, before we get frustrated at the single mom with her unruly kids or the teenager with no parental support, we took the time to learn their story. I am pretty sure our views of them would change? Maybe, before we rail on our kids as they walk in the door, we took an extra moment to find out how their day was. Maybe, before we jump to the conclusion that an acquaintance ignored us at the store, we considered what is going on in their lives. Maybe, if we thought about how life is hurting others before we made rash judgements, we could show love to the unloving.
Jesus, in Matthew 9:12 said, “But when he heard it, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.”
Maybe, if we remembered we are called to share Jesus with the spiritually sick, our view of others would be radically different.
Then maybe just maybe, we sit down with that person and share our story . . . our story just might help their story.