“Friends, we have to know their story.”
“Their story impacts the way they learn.”
“Their story impacts their behavior.”
Three words can define the two
years I spent working under a principal who cared deeply about the kids in her
school: “Know their story.”
Whenever we had an issue with a
student, we were reminded that what happened to them before they got to us
mattered. What happened in their homes mattered. And not only did it
matter, it influenced their performance and behavior in our classrooms.
At least once during every
faculty meeting, we were reminded to take our students’ stories into account
when dealing with behavior or learning difficulties.
There were some horrible stories
in my classrooms. One of my students had been through more in their sweet seven
year old life than I can ever expect to endure in my privileged, sheltered
world. There were other stories that would break your heart if you thought
about them long enough. But to know the children and teach them appropriately,
I had to know their stories. Even if knowing was painful or uncomfortable.
That year, knowing stories taught
me why I needed to comfort the little one who stole granola bars, because he
knew what real hunger was. Or why the children in foster care needed a few more
hugs, and an occasional kiss on the top of the head. I needed to know whose
parents were deployed, so I could identify the kids who would be extra sad
until the family adjusted to their new normal.
When I look at children,
especially ones with behavior I don’t necessarily enjoy, I recognize the importance
of knowing a person’s story. Because children don’t know any better, and most
of the time they have no idea that what happens at home has an impact at
school.
But today, I realized I could
take that knowledge and apply it to my friends. And my not-so-friends.
This morning, while discussing
relationships with my small group at church, I was gently reminded of the idea
that knowing someone’s story might help us understand people we don’t
necessarily get along with. That, by knowing a little more background, we might
be able to identify with someone in a new way—or at least get a better
understanding of the way someone ticks.
When we know someone’s story, our
hearts change: Someone who rubs us the wrong way becomes a person who is
wounded and in need of a little grace. Someone who fails to parent correctly
becomes a person who is trying to avoid repeating the mistakes of the people who raised
them. Someone who is quick to put others down is most critical of themselves.
Knowing their story makes even
the most intimidating person approachable.
So, how do we go about knowing
the stories of others?
I think the best way is to share
our own story. Everyone has a little bit of ugly that has influenced their
lives. Eventually, God will present a time when He’ll use your ugly to help
others. If you ask me, that’s one of the reasons he gives us some junk. It
refines us, and it gives us a way to relate to other people. It makes us real.
And once someone knows our story, they’ll be willing to share their story with
us. When we’ve made this connection, we build healthy relationships and communities. The
darkness we’ve kept inside is exposed, and we’re freed from the shame of that
part of our story.
(I like to think that when this happens—when we
share our dark stuff with one another— Jesus does a touchdown dance in the end
zone and yells “In yo FACE!” at Satan.) (Okay, I’m pretty sure Jesus hasn’t
ever done that.)
“Know their story” sort of led me
to a famous Bible lady (which is a technical term, by the way). We don’t know
her name, but we call her The Woman at the Well. This woman was a Samaritan, who by all
accounts, Jesus shouldn’t have even acknowledged. Instead, He approached her and
had a conversation with her. Before Jesus ever spoke to the woman, He knew her
story. He knew all of her ugly. I believe knowing the woman’s story impacted
the way he dealt with her, and the gentle way he pointed out her sin changed
her heart.
When we take the time to consider
someone’s story, we have the opportunity to relate to them, as well as
encourage and offer advice (when it’s requested). We also show them a little
bit of Jesus.
When we don’t rush to judgement,
and listen instead, we show people Jesus.
When we hear someone’s truth and
seek to empathize, we show people Jesus.
When we establish a story-based
relationship with someone, and gently discuss their sin with them, we show them
Jesus.
We’ll never do any of this
perfectly. There will always be people who work our nerves, or seem to be
difficult just for the sake of it. We have to understand that even they have a
story. And their story matters just as much as those who make our lives a
delight.
It’s important to remember, that
like The Woman at the Well, Jesus knows your story too. Whether your story is
dark and sad, or rainbow-filled, Jesus sees it, knows it, and loves you just
the same. Even if you don’t want to share your garbage with another person, you
have a listening ear. You are never alone with the chapters you wish you could
tear out and burn. Jesus is here, and He already knows.
Here’s a challenge: The next time
someone says or does something hurtful to you, remember they have a story, too.
Instead of retaliating or responding, extend grace, and pray for them instead.
It’s hard to be angry with someone you’re praying for. And remember—everyone has a story.
** How has someone sharing their
story helped you share yours? I’d love to read all about it in the comments
below!
