This post, written in January 2018, further examines the assumptions we make about one another — assumptions that can prevent connection. I repost it here in the wake of this week’s post, Of Reality and Social Media.

I am a hypocrite.

Although I have stood on my soapbox pointing out injustices and crying out for equity, I am a prejudiced person. I’m racist. I’m classist. I’m sexist. I’ll judge a person based on one Facebook status or incriminate a whole group of people for their stance on whether they think athletes should stand for the National Anthem or not. I’ll sort you into a category so fast, it’ll make your head spin.

It’s embarrassing, actually.

I’ve lived my professional life encouraging students to write narratives – to tell their stories of defining life moments — their parents’ divorce, the death of a sibling, a betrayal of friendship, a proclamation of love. These stories cross all lines of race, class, gender, political affiliation, musical preference, and lifestyle choice.

Our stories reveal our humanity; they connect us to one another.

In my classroom I have made space for students to laugh with one another, cry with one another, challenge one another, and embrace one another. I, too, have laughed, cried, challenged, and embraced. I have revealed my humanity to an audience of twenty or so students at a time. I have met and loved kids who are rich, poor, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, Arabic, Christian, atheist, Jewish, male, female, gay, straight, fat, thin, extroverted, introverted, funny, serious,…

It’s not hard to love someone – anyone – once you have heard his or her story. But in order to hear that story, you’ve got to risk getting close. That’s the challenge for me, because I’m prejudiced. I look at your hair, your clothing, your skin color, and your car. I see who you hang out with, what you share on Facebook, and what you retweet on Twitter. I know who you are, I think to myself.You are ‘that kind’ of person. I sort you into a clump and make assumptions about you before I even hear you speak.

I recently returned to a job after two and a half years away. Since I left, my former supervisor, who I loved, had resigned for health reasons. I had had a couple interactions with the woman who took her place, but before I had even worked with her one day, I had decided that she would be not as amazing, not as on top of things as my previous boss. I pre-judged her. Then, during the last hour of a two-day-long training, the new supervisor partnered with me for some role-playing activities, and I got my first up-close glance at her personality and heard the first few lines of her story. My prejudices were confirmed, but they were also dashed. She isn’t, actually, exactly like my previous supervisor; rather, she has her own unique personality and gifts. (Shocking, I know.) I wasn’t anticipating laughing with my new supervisor as she pretended to be a precocious nine-year old to my role of reading instructor, but there we were – giggling like close friends lost in make-believe.

People are hard to hate close up. Move in.”

Brene Brown, Braving the Wilderness

From a distance, even the length of my arm, I can keep you handily sorted into a category – liberal, conservative, educated, ignorant, friend, or foe. However, if I ask to hear your story, everything can change. My beliefs can be challenged, my assumptions destroyed, my heart opened.

Years ago I picked up my first Jodi Picoult book, My Sister’s Keeper. It’s the story of a girl who was conceived by her parents in the hope that she would be a donor match for her critically ill older sibling. Gasp!  One glance at that premise and I formed an opinion. How could they?  What kind of parents….? However, Picoult, I soon learned, is a master at using narrative to bring her readers in close to see issues in their complexity – issues that most of us find ourselves firmly positioned on – euthanasia, gun violence, infidelity, and abortion. She weaves her narratives, often from multiple points of view, to expose these issues as more than dichotomies. She can move me from my Gasp! How could they? to a Wow! I can’t even imagine that kind of love! in 400 pages or less!

Real-life stories are no different from fictional narratives – they are full of complexity and factors that don’t appear on the surface. If I judge someone based on her skin color, clothing, language choices, or friends, I am missing out! I am missing her story – all the characters and plot twists that have led her to today. Not only that, I am diminishing her humanity – I am relegating her to a category rather than appreciating her individuality. Most importantly, I am denying the connectedness that she and I share as members of humanity – children of the Creator.

Our pastor, Gabe Kasper, spoke recently about the necessity for genuine relationships in the church (read or listen to the full-text here). He said that genuine relationships are characterized by vulnerability, empathy, love, and the willing of good for the other person. We don’t often enter into such relationships because 1) we are afraid of getting close to people, and 2) we don’t want to take the time. However, if we are willing to risk getting just a little closer, of asking others to tell us just a little piece of their story, everything — EVERYTHING – can change. Story has the power to transform us – our understandings, our experience of life, and our relationships. Imagine the impact of a couple hundred people who have chosen to be vulnerable, empathetic, loving, and supportive of one another — intentionally and consistently. What ripple effect might that have?

Are we willing to, knowing better, do better. Are we willing to call out our prejudices and stereotypes? Are we willing to set those aside, step in close, and hear the stories of people who may not be just like us?

Consider this: Because I am a 50-something white woman who has been a teacher and a pastor’s wife, you may draw some assumptions about me – that I’m Christian, heterosexual, pro-life, Republican, and financially secure. You might believe that my family is immune from tragedies such as chronic illness, sexual assault, alcoholism, eating disorders, family conflict, depression, or anxiety.  Some of your assumptions may be right; most would certainly be wrong. How will you know which is which? You will have to lean in and listen to my story.

Some of the things you learn about me might be confusing. They might challenge you. You might not agree with me. You might choose to walk beside me anyway. And, in that walking, I might learn some things about you that confuse and challenge me. I see us taking lots of long walks together, learning about one another and growing together.

I imagine that if we are willing to take the chance to move in close and learn the stories of those who we might have previously sorted into categories, our assumptions will be destroyed, and we will never be the same again.

Are you willing to take that risk? Are you willing to tell me your story?

Romans 12:10

Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.