How The Gospel Reshapes The Stories We Sell Ourselves

 

Most of us are familiar with filters on Instagram. People choose filters to present themselves to the world in a certain light—perhaps to appear flawless or maybe to portray a fairy-tale-like life.

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Most of us also seem to be fairly disdainful of these highly curated, primed and polished avatars on social media. But what about the filters through which we view our own lives?

 

As we look back at past experiences and as we evaluate current situations we often see life through the lenses of the stories that we tell ourselves. Our stories become sieves through which we filter experiences. Sometimes, we buy into our own stories so they become the stories we sell ourselves.

 

The other day, for instance, I met a lady who had studied at the same school that I had attended all my life. She had graduated a decade or so after me. Although we had both walked through the same gates from Kindergarten all the way through High School, we viewed those 14 years very differently. While I often summarise my time at my Catholic school as a stiflingly strict place where I stayed under the radar, she saw the same institution as a place where her talents were honed and where she was encouraged to thrive.

 

While neither of our experiences is untrue, it made me wonder if we paint our pasts with broad brushstrokes, leaving little room for nuance and detail. We tend to make generalised statements about the years gone by. With enough repetition and sufficient embellishment that passing years add to our memories, the stories we tell ourselves become indisputable truth.

 

I recently witnessed three siblings, now in their late sixties, arguing about “facts” that transpired more than 40 years ago. One was convinced that their mother meted out punishments that bordered on torture. The other was certain that their mother was perfectly loving and never had a harsh word for anyone. The third sibling believed that she always put their dad before them. It was a classic case of the folk tale of the six blind men who each examine one part of an elephant and come to vastly different conclusions.

 

While I’m not a psychologist, it seems that the stories we tell ourselves about our pasts shape our personalities and colour our present-day relationships.

 

If I tell myself that my childhood was miserable, for instance, then I may let unresolved hurt bleed into my current relationships.

On the other hand, if I tell myself that my childhood was idyllic, then I may let unrealistic expectations leave me dissatisfied with my present situation.

 

The narratives we adhere to are not just relegated to the past. We also adopt filters through which we view ourselves and our current experiences.

 

While we live in a time where we are encouraged to “look within,” very rarely do we want to see the planks in our own eyes. Despite the insistence on introspection, we are unwilling to perceive the sin in ourselves. The scripts in our minds are strategically produced so we are perceived as the nice guy. Seldom do we want to be the “villains” in our own storylines. We morph into proficient public relations experts. We market our personal brand to ourselves and others.

 

In the Bible, we read about the prophet Nathan confronting David about his affair with Bathsheba and his cover-up ploy of murdering her husband, Uriah (2 Samuel 12). When Nathan shares the parable of a rich man who took and killed the only lamb of a poor man, David is indignant at the rich man’s abhorrent behaviour. Little does he think his own actions parallel the rich man in Nathan’s story. Clearly, David had told himself a sanitised story. In his version, he had brushed off his sin with Bathsheba and his murder of Uriah. In the script that he crafted, he was still the good guy.

 

When Nathan declares to David, “You are that man,” (2 Samuel 12: 7) referring to the hard-hearted rich man, the narrative that David had been telling himself rapidly unravels. David is confronted by the depravity of his sin and repents of his wrongdoing. While he faces the consequences of his actions, he is forgiven by God and retains his position as king.

 

David was trapped in his own PR campaign. But God helped him break out of the grip of that deceptive narrative.

 

When God convicts us of our frailties and fallenness, he also confronts us with his grace. He breaks the grip of pretence and pride. It is his truth—and not merely introspection—that sets us free.

 

While our stories may be true, or at least contain elements of truth, as children of God we don’t need to hide behind them. Through the power of the cross, God writes a redemptive story for us.

 

To quote Tim Keller, here’s the gospel story God speaks over us: “We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.”

We don’t need to let our preconceived scripts shape us. God has given us a new heart and put a new spirit within us (Ezekiel 36: 26). We don’t need to fall into the rut of old thought patterns. Instead, we get to be transformed by the renewing of our minds (Romans 12:2). We get to think on things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy (Philippians 4: 8) instead of reliving past hurts or dwelling on bygone glories.

 

In the words of David in Psalm 107:2, “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story—“ And what a compelling story it is: That he rescued us from our fallenness, reconciled us to himself, and is restoring us to the fulness of what he has planned for us.