Every family has a storyteller. That person in each generation who carries the thread of history, weaving the soul of the past into the living present. In my generation, I am that storyteller. It’s not an assigned task, filled with obligation and expectation – yet it’s not really a chosen path. Rather, it’s the burbling of a deep wellspring within, hidden under the guise of a carefree and, at times, klutzy exterior. While I can be both carefree and awkward in the truth of my nature, I also feel a bond, in fact, an unavoidable compulsion, to learn and to know.
From my earliest memories, I thirsted for the stories of old. My dad would tuck us kids into bed, and we’d beg for tales of his childhood on the farm. By my teen years, at family events I would more often than not be found sitting amongst the grandparents, great aunts and uncles, and long-time family friends, laughing at the crazy yarns they compared. I grew to know my great grandparents, not by personal interaction with their living beings, but through these treasured moments of gleaning at the feet of my elders. I hear the stories, and I see the lessons in my loved ones surrounding me.
The hand of Great Grandma Campbell shapes, to this day, the life of my grandma. A godly woman, she rises every day and reads her Bible, prays for her family, and trusts God wholeheartedly to bring to fruition the promises of His Scriptures. She spends her days in physical pain, yet never complaining. A hard worker, a fervent prayer warrior, a lover of her family, and a witty tongue – these are the hallmarks of my grandma. I listen to the stories told by my great aunts and uncle, stories about their mother, and then I watch my grandma emulate the principles inscribed in the tales: in her movements, in her speech pattern, I connect with my history.
Family legend is not the only place I feel connected. Through my years of reading and studying, I continue to absorb the story of humanity. My mind vividly pictures the moments in history that I read about. When I set my hands upon an old book, cracking open the leather binding and inhaling the aged scent of yellowed pages, I imagine the other hands to which the same book surrendered its stories. Whose hands turned the leaves? Into whose mind did the words trail? What did he or she ponder while reading? Would we have shared our thoughts politely? Interpreted the material similarly? Debated passionately over the meanings and significance to Mankind? My mind almost obsesses over the potential stories of the person’s life that I sometimes cannot focus on the fictional story etched on the pages.
I consider this empathy a gift. It’s what marks my life as a storyteller. I connect to the past – to the present – to the future. I sense a world greater than my finite sphere, and I yearn to touch that ethereal Beyond. My entire being rejects the simplicity of mundane materialism, of the “9 to 5 life.” To spend one’s years eking out a meager living – or, should one be “fortunate” enough to land a position of wealth – cannot be the epitome of Life. Yet somehow enslavement to the “practical” has consumed our society, overturning the depths of reality. Empathy and rejection of the mundane simmer in my soul, pushing me to strive for a more meaningful state of existence. I find this meaning in connection with others – in absorbing their stories, learning who they are.
Sometimes my desire to connect, to love, to care for others, can overwhelm my human frailty. I’ve even seen empathy encourage compromise in my life. Life doesn’t always provide easy choices. God’s principles: humanity’s cries: approachability. These three elements are capable of harmony…at a price. That price is Self.
Myself likes to make people feel comfortable around me, and I believe that Christians today are being served a message by society that the world being “comfortable” requires Christians to not “act holy.” Instead, we’re to be relatable – which somehow has come to be interpreted, mistakenly, as participating in actions (physical, verbal, active, passive, etc.) that violate godly principles. So we live in a world seeking comfort, hope, salvation, yet we hear a blaring message of relatability, and somehow think that sacrificing a degree of godly principles is justifiable based on anticipated long-term results: the lost, hurting soul will be won over by my human love for her/him, turn to Jesus, and then we will miraculously become holy beings now that holiness is comfortable for both.
Maybe I’m the only one with this issue. (But…I suspect the problem extends beyond this little earthen vessel!) God has been showing me something through the story of Noah. Noah’s father, Lamech, professed of his infant son, “This one will comfort us concerning our work and the toil of our hands, because of the ground which the Lord has cursed” (Gen 5:29).Now, for anyone familiar with Noah’s story, not much pleasant seems to happen. God gave His creation principles. The principles contradicted society’s comfortable lifestyle.
And there’s where Noah’s life gets interesting. He obeyed God despite being (essentially) alone in the process. He witnessed the mass destruction of humankind. (That’s not comforting.) He must’ve felt lonely, maybe scared, probably confused. I suggest that Lamech’s prophecy seemed as ill fitting as a Vera Wang gown on a sumo wrestler! But God.
Fulfilled were the words of Lamech over his son. Noah survived, by God’s grace, and through him the Savior was ultimately born. Yet to me, one need not even flip to the New Testament to see the fulfillment of the prophecy. I try to picture a story without the Noah who obeyed God – a tale without a man who chose godly principles over “approachability” or being “relatable.” I simply can’t. Everything destroyed, God’s good workmanship eradicated.
No comfort lies in a story of watery desolation, the abolition of beauty, creativity, salvation. Thankfully, Noah obeyed God. He was the son of a godly man who was, some generations later, the great grandson of a man and woman who walked – quite literally – with God Most High in a garden of perfection…until their decision to abandon God’s direction. Thus, not only would Noah have heard the story of walking with God, but fully engrained in his heart and mind would be the price of disobedience.
I am the daughter of a storyteller. From my youth, my father has unraveled the mysteries of those deceased before my birth, as has his mother. In many ways, I feel like Timothy: a young Christian blessed by two living generations preceding me who impart godly wisdom, faith, and strength into my life. My parents and my grandparents have shaped my life through their stories, both spoken and lived. Today, I have a choice. Do I wield empathy in my own strength: the utter frailty of my human form becoming overwhelmed by the magnitude of need in this world, thereby losing myself in the midst? Do I run from His design, shirking the responsibility, shoving my head in the sand to avoid the inevitable pain of being used by the Creator? Or do I embrace the empathy God has divinely woven into my soul and allow Him to utilize this characteristic?
God placed a conviction in my heart as I pondered Lamech’s proclamation and Noah’s life. The lost and the hopeless are comforted in our obedience to God. I believe that many people are driven by fear of the unknown. Attempts to control every facet of life stem from a subconscious awareness of insufficiency. Some refer to Nature, others to Fate, and others simply blame “everyone else.” But everyone seems to acknowledge that something exists more powerful than a single human.
I’ve seen myself have two effects on people around me over the years. When I live my self-proclaimed title of “Christian” (Christ-like) in a genuine manner, I’ve seen a joy and peace permeate my sphere of influence; I’ve watched forgiveness, perseverance, and trust blossom. Conversely, when I succumb to anger, hopelessness, discouragement, or other negative lifestyles, I’ve observed these same characteristics fester in the lives of people around me. How I choose to behave – in submission to God’s sovereign ability to get me through a day, or wallowing in bitterness and letting myself “be honest and real” (normal?) with those around me – has an evident effect on other people. This is not to discount the very necessary facet of friendship, which is to say the friend who “loveth at all times” and listens to our hurts and frustrations – a very real and challenging part of life. Instead, the practical application is, I believe, how we express ourselves when we experience those times of weakness.
I don’t want to be a detriment to the hurting or hopeless. Oh, that I could be a Noah, abiding by my Savior’s guidance, regardless of my human entrapment! To wash the feet of those I love – of those He seeks, and for whom He suffered greatly – this is a Christian’s calling. We have not the luxury of indulging our “humanity,” of losing the precious hours of life trying to be “relatable.” Love we must, and this through joyfully surrendering to our God’s precepts, that we may comfort the lost surrounding us!
