Storytelling: (Re)Narrating the Stories of Our Lives (Geography of Grace)

How I narrate the story of my life has everything to do with how I live in it. - Chris Rice

For the majority of my life I have hated my life story. To be honest, for the majority of my life I have hated the life stories of others. I have forcefully been without concern or remorse both the victim and the victimizer in my story. The paradoxes within those tensions have complicated my existence so much throughout my life that for many years I walked the streets seemingly without mind and soul. Healing from my life story has been a process overwhelmed with fear and suffering. In fact, there are still many elements of my story that I fear I will never find reconciliation.

As much as all this is true, the permission granted to me to retell my story has powerfully shaped the way I live in it today, and has begun the life-giving work of redemption.

Over the last few months at the Issachar Community our leadership apprentices have been engaged in the intensive In (But Not Of?) , one of seven courses—or “conversations”—offered through the Center for Transforming Mission. This particular series is meant to explore what it means to live missionally-minded in a changing world and thus re-interpret our understanding of what it means to be In (But Not Of?). An essential element for this conversation in Denver has been to dig deeper into the power of stories through the example of Christ. As a master storyteller, Christ is notorious for the surprising way he retells narratives in favor of otherwise condemned societal characters, such as the Prodigal Son.

As (re)storytelling was important to Christ, we are compelled to ask if it should be important to us. In order to further wrestle with that question, we must ask another question about the power of stories in our lives. Do stories provide specific meaning to our lives and, as mentioned earlier, can the way we narrate them drastically shape the way we live in them? Daniel Taylor offers this insight:

“You are your stories. You are the product of all the stories you have heard or lived—and of many you have never heard. They have shaped how you see yourself, the world, and your place in it. Your first great storytellers were home, school, popular culture, and perhaps, church. Knowing and embracing healthy stories are crucial to living rightly and well. If your present life story is broken or diseased, it can be made well. Or, if necessary, it can be replaced by a story that has a plot worth living.”

Before I continue I must clearly state that this is not an attempt to resurrect the old debate of “nature vs. nurture.” We are not exploring the root causes that propelled a person’s life to the present in the intensive In (But Not Of?) as much as we’re examining the way people have narrated the stories of their lives. Taylor is suggesting that the many stories that make up our lives have all contributed to what we would consider the overarching narrative of our lives. Thus, embracing healthy stories helps influence our lives towards life-giving directions and decisions. This is ever so important when we follow in the example of Christ as we (re)narrate in favor of otherwise condemned societal characters, such as the poor and the marginalized.

“If you can’t find a reason to live, you will find a reason to die,” said Fr. Beltran. Following in the example of Christ, it is our role to (re)narrate stories in ways that bring forth life, not death. How must we do this? How must we become (re)storytellers of Good News? Even more poignant, in (re)telling stories are we traversing a line that blurs overt optimism, or is it truly sharing the Gospel in honesty and love? (Re)narrating stories in relationships with the hurting is something we will all have to work on, but what follows is a very intimate email conversation of an actual attempt to (re)narrate a story in a beautifully painful manner during a very painful time for this person. (Shared with permission and name changed to protect the identity of individual)

Here are two ways to tell the story we talked about this morning (and of course there are lots of other ways, some more helpful than others)…

a. Dulce has had a difficult and painful life, full of lots of chaos for which the only explanations seemed to be family problems, massive forces of historical oppression, some flaw in her own moral character, or just plain shitty luck. But God’s hand seemed to be on Dulce – for a while, anyway. She managed to put much of the chaotic behavior behind her, married a wonderful man and made a great family, got her degree, found work she enjoyed, was given insight into important matters, and was making a real contribution to the lives of others. Then, just when things seemed to be coming together, God seems to abandon Dulce to the cruelest twist of all: a new “disease” enters the picture. Now, not only do the early chaotic chapters of Dulce’s life still not make sense; but even the more recent, positive chapters seem to be meaningless and gone.

or…

b. Dulce has had a difficult and painful life, full of lots of chaos for which the only explanations seemed to be family problems, massive forces of historical oppression, some flaw in his own moral character, or just plain shitty luck. But God knew otherwise: God knew that there was a reason why many things came so difficult for Dulce. That reason, that secret factor, was this “disease” – a wild “twist” in the story that Dulce would not learn until later. Of course, this “disease” wasn’t the only thing happening in Dulce’s life: Family struggles and those other factors were probably part of the story, too. But the “disease” was there all along, secretly complicating all those other factors in ways that Dulce was not even aware of. Still, God’s hand was on Dulce – in ways that often surprised her. She managed to put much of the chaotic behavior behind her, married a wonderful woman and made a great family, got her degree, found work she enjoyed, was given insight into important things, and has begun making a real contribution to the lives of others. And now the story takes a new twist: Perhaps because Dulce has grown so much, has developed such strength and resiliency, and has got so many people “in her corner,” – perhaps God has decided that now is the time when Dulce is ready to know about this other part of her story. This is one of those “aha!” chapters, when things begin to make some sense, when missing pieces fall into place. It’s certainly not a pleasant chapter to read (or live!). But neither is it really a new, cruel chapter in Dulce’s story: It’s a time of getting deeper insight into that which has been there all along, lurking in the shadows. Now Dulce (and her many friends) know so much more, and will be able to live their part in the story so much better!

Obviously, the first story is the one you are feeling right now. The second way of reading the story, however, seems much more congruent: congruent with what we know about you, about God, and about the disease. I believe it is the true story. And I’m glad that I get to be part of it, even though I am sad that you have to feel such pain, my friend. I love you.

Following in the example of Christ we (re)narrate in favor of the broken and enter into the world as (re)storytellers of the Good News. This is a role that we may have a hard time finding ourselves fitting into, but one we must learn to embrace. As I continue to wrestle with my own story, I invite others to help (re)tell my story in ways that do not keep me from avoiding the pain of my life, but help me continue to enter the beauty of it. For it is always important to remember that, as Elie Wiesel said, “God made humans because he loves stories.”

Sam Trujillo
Continues to explore stories,
Feels blessed to have a redeemed story,
Still learning to (re)narrate his own story.