The Power of Story (pt 1?)

I know I've written some true-to-life stories in part of a series I wrote on this very blog. But tonight I'm in a place where I find it imperative to share why Story is important.

Honestly right now, in this moment today, I have been planning to drink a beer or two, watch some episodes of Friends, and go to bed really early. But here I am. Because somehow this seized me today. Today it started with a youtube video. A powerful spoken-word performance. It moved to me youtubing a man who I had the pleasure of meeting once. He heads up a few prominent storytelling groups in Chicago. His name is Scott Whitehair (I recommend you youtube him, and if you're in Chicago, please google him and please take the opportunity to see him in person). This man illustrated to me in an incredible way, the power of Story.

For myself as a Christian, this should be an easy concept to grasp. Isn't my entire faith founded on the concept of a Grand Narrative? A Story?

I youtubed Scott and watched his most recent performance. One I hadn't yet seen. As usual, his performance was mesmerizing. For those who don't know about the storytelling community, it is a community that is bustling in Chicago and probably other big cities I don't have as much invested in. I stumbled upon it shortly before I left Chicago. Had I stumbled upon it sooner, I might yet be in Chicago. But my story brought me here.

The storytelling community is a group of people that gather at venues (usually bars), to hear 5-6 people tell 10ish minute true stories from their lives. I had the opportunity and delight to go to three events. I think that in all three I was moved to tears by the tragedy. I also think that in all three I cried because I was laughing so hard. I have never witnessed something so beautiful.

People gathering as strangers and sharing their most vulnerable, most self-deprecating stories. It was the most sincere affirmation of "this is what it is to be human". Everyone connected with each story. Each one of us felt connected with another. Each one of us felt our own humanity and vulnerabilities laid bare to one another. And we were compelled to share in that with one another. I'm sure the alcohol didn't hurt in that realm. But even so, the connections weren't forged. They were real. Even if connections weren't made with another individual there, something in the heart changed just for hearing and witnessing to others' stories.

I could use this to talk about the story of Jesus. I could. And if I write a part 2, that will be the focus, because I believe it is astoundingly important. But this is part 1. My focus here is just this:

Your story is valuable. Your collection of stories is a treasury, useful for connecting to, disarming, loving, suffering with, and consoling others. I believe in creating space to tell stories. I believe in a place to share without expectation, without fear, without ramifications, who you are. I believe in telling the truth when it means risking everything. I believe in sharing who you are, hoping for acceptance, but knowing that whether or not it's extended, people relate. People relating to your story may cause defensiveness, fear, acceptance, denial, rejection, love, sorrow, woundedness, healing, restoration... It has power. If we all share our stories, I think the defensiveness, fear, rejection, and woundedness fall away.

I think what remains is love and its effects. I hope for transformation of communities through Story. Some part of me feels that such transformation is impossible without Story. It requires commitment. It requires a willingness to listen. It requires a willingness to share intimate, vulnerable parts of yourself. It requires a sometimes-naive belief that your story is worth sharing even if no one has seemed to value it before. It requires laying aside your judgements in order to see, truly see, the person standing before you.

I yearn for the church to be such a place. I think by definition, when this happens, it is the Church. Whether it happens in the church or not, among people that follow Jesus or not, I want to be a part of it. I want to foster that community. I want that to be a place of hope and transformation, of healing and acceptance. I want to see this come to pass. I want to be a leader in this movement here.

I don't know what that means. But I want to be in it.

Scott took the time to meet with me one day at a nice Mediterranean restaurant. He shared with me his passion for storytelling. I echoed it and echoed the hopes of starting one someday. I hope this still happens. I feel a growing desire to initiate this, now that I've lived here in this place for almost a year. I want this to come to fruition. Do others believe in this too? Do others value this? Are others willing to join in and be a part?

You don't need a stage to tell your story. You don't need a venue. I encourage this in day-to-day life. I, personally, am more apt to share my stories from a stage. But I want to see this everywhere. For those living here, I hope that this is something you can buy into. Even a group that meets bi-weekly or monthly. I hope this is something you'd be willing to join with me on. I might change my mind tomorrow, but this is something I want to move forward on.Right now, tonight, it feels valuable, urgent, and worth investing the little free time I have left into.

If you live elsewhere, I hope the idea touches you deeply. Whether there is a group or not, I hope some part of you recognizes the value of story.

I hope this blog encourages you to share more openly and listen more intently. That is the kind of love that changes the world.