Space for Truth
Ever had a child try to show you the picture he or she just drew and place it so close to your face that your eyeballs are literally crossing just trying to see it?
Most of us have had this experience. We know what it feels like to gently back the crinkling page up so that we can see whatever masterpiece we’re required to oooh and aaah over. We know our eyes can’t focus on something that’s too close to our face, and we know that our children deserve their artwork to be seen.
Truth is a little bit like that piece of paper.
When it’s too close to our faces, it’s hard to see. That’s one of the major reasons why it’s no use hitting someone over the head with truth. It’s not effective, even as much as it seems to be straightforward—it’s right there, directly in front of their face, how can they not see it?—but their eyes just can’t focus when it’s that close to them.
And this is where story comes in.
When we wrap the truth in a story, it’s like that moment when we back up the paper from in front of our noses. It provides the space and perspective we need for the truth to breathe, to be seen, to do its hard work in our lives.
This is one of the major reasons that Jesus used so many stories when he spoke—well, that and that he lived during a time where truth had to be purposefully remembered, not written down and saved for later or recorded to be played back at one’s convenience, and what is more memorable than a story? When Jesus presented the truth in story form, it allowed the listener to take it in and process it, turning it over in his or her brain for a while before acknowledging that it wasn’t just a general truth that applied to everyone but also a specific truth that needed application in his or her own personal life.
When we know this about truth (that it’s sometimes more palatable in story form), we need to ask a few follow up questions. First, are there stories that we can be telling that would communicate truth more effectively than speaking in factual generalities? And second, what stories are we telling ourselves?
For the first question, I have an example. Last week, my seventh graders and I were discussing their literature selection, Carry On, Mr Bowditch. As we talked, the conversation took a sharp turn towards depression, cutting, and suicide. Yep. Not the conversation I had planned for, but no time like the present, right? We talked about some of the different terms that get thrown around in the mental health world. We discussed why the rise of mental health issues within our young adult population has been so steep the last few years. And then I shared my own story with them—because I knew that it would be the most effective way of driving home the conversation.
We need stories to help the truth stick. It’s one of the major reasons I continue to read fiction, because when I read someone else’s story, it’s as if my brain kicks into a different gear and begins to process the information in a fresh way. When we share our own stories, it allows others to share the experience, share the lessons, share the truth. And it also reminds them that they aren’t alone in their experiences. We are all walking through the same struggles, even if they may look different from one life to another.
The second question (what stories are we telling ourselves) has a two part follow up. First, we need to think of our own mental narrative: how are we framing our life experiences within our own self talk? Am I replaying a story in a way that makes me a victim or a survivor? Am I telling stories to myself where God is a bad guy out to get me? Am I giving my spouse (or my children or my coworkers) the role of villain, forgetting that they are multidimensional characters with their own backstories and struggles and wounds?
And then, what books (and movies and TV shows) am I allowing to speak truth in my life? Have I chosen stories that remind me the world is a complex place full of complex people? Have I picked ones that glorify adultery or divorce or lust or selfishness? Am I picking up books that make me think, that force me to walk in others’ shoes, that give me an ability to look at things from different sides…or that only confirm my one limited worldview?
I’m not providing a list of books that you should or should not read here (that isn’t the point). There are books that I have read that on the surface look harmless and yet are so saccharinely, sweetly shallow that they damaged my soul and others that look like trash but contained nuggets of needed truth that made me think in totally unexpected ways. We won’t always know until we’re neck deep and swimming through it. Just like you can’t always anticipate what is going to be on that paper your kid shoved in your face (in my case, it’s almost always a corpse with arrows imbedded in the crotch—thanks, Bruiser).
There’s one other gift of space that books give us: sometimes, they give us a little bit of a reprieve when we’re facing hard truths. I’m the queen of reading fluff novels when I’m stressed (you guys know this about me). Sometimes I find surprising (and needed) truths in them, but often, they just give me a chance to take a breather so that—when I’m ready—I can get up and try again.
Today, if you happen to have books that taught you needed truth through story form, feel free to drop them in the comment section. But regardless of book suggestions (from me or others), this week, I’m challenging all of us to just take a moment and think: what stories can I tell others that might communicate truth? And what stories am I inviting into my own mind? And maybe also, do I need to allow myself a story break? Or am I ready to get up and keep facing the hard truths in my life?
And then…see what kind of space the stories around you have for truth.
