Imagine you are standing at a bus stop headed to an interview when a bicyclist rides by and splashes mud on you. What is the story you tell yourself? About the bicyclist? About how you think your interview will play out? What impression do you think the interviewer will now have about you?
Imagine now that a stranger comes up behind you and shoves you into the puddle. What story do you write now? What emotions do you feel as you imagine these scenarios?
The stories we tell ourselves are powerful. They transform the perception we have about ourselves and about others.
But what percentage of the stories we tell ourselves are true? How often do we conjure up untruths about ourselves? How often do we make up lies about others? Psychological research has confirmed that we humans can deceive ourselves in some powerful ways. In one study, collaborators gave some participants a cheat sheet for a test. Having aced the test with the aid of a cheat sheet (shocker!), researchers asked them how well they would do on future tests. Compared to those who took the test without a cheat sheet, the cheaters had inflated confidence regarding how well they would do on future tests.[1]
Take the imaginary muddy clothes stories we began this post with. Did you believe that the bicyclist and stranger intentionally splashed and shoved you? What is the story you wrote about the person interviewing you? Are you telling yourself that you are stupid for standing by the puddle? Are you sure you won’t get the job? Once you have written those stories, what impact do they have on how you perceive yourself? Others? How do they change your emotions?
If you can change the stories you write, you can change your emotions.
What would it look like to have a heart so transformed by the work of Christ in you that you fill your life with stories of grace and compassion? In his letter, James asks the church to consider why there is so much conflict in the church. He says, “What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you?” (Jms 4:1).
What would it look like for us to take our emotions back to the story and that story back to our heart? Suppose I’m standing on the curb headed to an interview and I get pushed into the puddle. In that case, I could imagine that I would probably get angry at the person who shoved me, and then feel embarrassed about how I looked, and then feel defeated about the forthcoming interview.
What is the story that those emotions arise from? I’ve written a story about the person who pushed me: they did it deliberately and with malice. I’ve written a story about myself: that others who look at my mud-soaked outfit will think I’m a loser. And I’ve written a story about the interviewer: they will be humorless and compassionless.
What if I could write a different story? Where would that come from? A transformation of my heart. What if my heart is so filled with mercy and grace that the story I write when I’m pushed into the puddle is that someone probably tripped, tried to catch themselves, and accidentally pushed me? What if my heart is so at peace that I presume that others who look at my muddy self won’t think I’m a loser, but will feel sorry for me or smile along with the ridiculousness of the situation? What if my heart could release control and fear and assume the best of my interviewer: we will be able to laugh together and connect over my misfortune?
I long for a heart where my desires align with God’s, and where love, joy, peace, and patience overflow. I believe that as I daily repent of my fleshly desires, Christ will transform my longings into his, and then the stories I create about others will look more and more like his stories.
Consider how Jesus responded when the woman who was hemorrhaging stopped him from going to Jairus’s daughter to save her (Lk 8:43). Think of how often Jesus looked at the crowds “and had compassion on them” (Matt 9:36). What was the story Jesus wrote? That they were sheep without a shepherd.
So often we tell ourselves that we wouldn’t be so angry if we didn’t have to deal with that family member, or we wouldn’t get anxious if things weren’t so busy, or we wouldn’t be so afraid if we weren’t dealing with sickness. But we are not at the mercy of our emotions. Our emotions can be transformed into Christ’s as our stories change. And our stories can be rewritten when our hearts are made new in the face of our Savior.
[1] Chance, Gino, Norton, Ariely, “The Slow Decay and Quick Revival of Self-Deception,” Frontiers in Psychology, August 2015, https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2015.01075/full.
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