When was the last time you intentionally pushed back on your life’s narrative? Ever notice how much it pushes on you? Narratives, those we tell ourselves and those told to us by others, are formed out of social and cultural interactions and they shape what we see, feel and do (Corey, 2013). 

What is the primary driving force behind your narratives?  Is it something that was said or done to you when you were a child?  Or the weight of guilt from a reckless decision you made?  Narratives can keep us from living our best lives by constantly reminding us of our worst experiences and choices.  The narrative you listen to the most will frame your world and the lens through which you see it.

I have identified four consistent narratives in my life.  The first and most important, is rooted in the truth of God’s Word and it keeps the other narratives honest.  It is the narrative that tells me I am loved, accepted and forgiven by God despite falling short of His glory.  It is where I find peace and refuge for me and grace and mercy to extend to others, especially when one of the other narratives is loud and consuming.

If we live long enough, we are all bound to become a victim of some sort—it is inevitable!  However, it is also transient, not permanent like the victim narrative seems to suggest. Although victimization is a normal part of life in varying degrees, injustice should always be met with contest and protest.  When I listen to this narrative for too long I feel powerless and voiceless and will usually become very passive. Here is where I have learned to develop and appreciate resiliency and advocacy.

In my experience and opinion, the only thing worst than powerlessness is an abuse of power. I am not proud of the times in my life that I have showed up as the villain, but I have. The villain narrative promotes the ME first by any means necessary agenda and will stop at nothing to move that agenda forward. It is in this space that I am learning to love God with all of my heart, mind and strength and to love my neighbor as I love myself.

On rare occasion, I get the special privilege and responsibility of taking a hero’s stance in my life or in the lives of my loved ones. Though not nearly as often as I would like, I have had an opportunity to use some super power that only God knew I had and would need for such a time as this. This narrative is the most fragile because of the subtle stroke of my ego (facepalm) and my inherent desire to protect. Here, I am learning to trust God, His timing and command.

Whether you acknowledge it or not your life has a narrative—maybe more than one like mine. Narratives best serve our lives when we actively listen to what’s being said and know whether or not we can trust who’s saying it.