How the Stories We Tell Start Telling Us
Like I do every third Wednesday of the month, this month I sat in a room that felt both heavy and holy. The Jefferson Parish Interfaith Alliance, a group I’m honored to be part of, recently began a series of dialogues about the ongoing crisis in Palestine and how we as an alliance should response locally. To be honest, it hasn’t been easy. Around the table, there are Muslims and Jews whom have friends, family, and loved ones directly impacted by what's going on. The pain in that room was real. The tension, too. At moments, it would’ve been easier to take a breath, pack it up, and decide this kind of conversation is just too hard. And yet, we stayed. We keep staying. We keep showing up because somewhere, underneath the disagreement and heartbreak, there’s a shared belief that listening...real listening...is an act of peace. That staying at the table, even when it’s uncomfortable, is part of how we begin to heal what’s broken in our world.
One of the voices I’ve come to deeply respect in this group is a Muslim brother whose gentleness and conviction continually ground me. At this most recent gathering, he shared a saying from the Hadith that stopped me in my tracks:
"Whoever among you sees an evil, let him change it with his hand; if he cannot, then with his tongue; if he cannot, then with his heart—and that is the weakest of faith"
It’s a powerful teaching, but what struck me most wasn’t the quote itself...it was the way my friend lives it out. Day after day, he responds to the suffering in the world not with bitterness, but with action. With presence. With compassion that doesn’t turn away. And honestly, that’s what I see in so many of the people around that table. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Humanists—all of us, somehow, choosing to live the stories our faiths tell. Not just to believe them, but to embody them. That’s what this final reflection in the "Sacred Thread" series, that's where we will land: becoming the story you tell. It’s one thing to talk about peace, justice, and love...it’s another to live those words in rooms where it would be easier to walk away.
Psychologist Dan McAdams, who studies something called narrative identity theory, suggests that the way we understand and tell the story of our lives shapes who we become. If we see our stories as chaotic or defined by what’s been done to us, we can get stuck in that version of ourselves. But when we frame our lives as redemptive...when we see ourselves as part of a story still being written, one that’s leading somewhere hopeful...it literally changes our brain chemistry. People who narrate their lives this way are often more resilient, compassionate, and future-minded. The stories we tell about ourselves, it turns out, help write who we are becoming.
And this isn’t just psychology, it’s deeply spiritual. Every major faith tradition teaches that life itself is a story we’re co-authoring with the Divine. In Sikhism, daily prayers and poetry weave together devotion and courage, reminding worshippers that their lives are part of a sacred song. In Buddhism, each word and action becomes part of a karmic story that reveals and reshapes who we are. In Islam, the hadith and the Qur’an tell stories that remind believers that every act of mercy, every pursuit of justice, is part of a larger unfolding story of God’s compassion. In Christianity, Jesus doesn’t just tell stories...he becomes one. His life is the ultimate parable: a story of love that keeps rewriting what we thought we knew about God, ourselves, and one another.
And that’s really the invitation...to let our lives become the stories we long to tell.
So, take a moment this week to think about your own story. Not the edited version, not the one you tell when someone asks “How’ve you been?” but the real one. What kind of chapter are you in right now? Maybe it’s a rebuilding one. Maybe it’s the messy middle. Maybe you’re somewhere between grief and growth and can’t quite tell which is which. Wherever you are...what would it look like to write the next page on purpose?
What’s the story you want to tell with your time, your love, your presence? Because the truth is, we don’t just tell stories. We live them. Every act of kindness, every moment of courage, every choice to show up when it’d be easier to turn away...it all becomes part of the narrative. We become what we practice. And when we practice compassion, forgiveness, and love...especially in the hard conversations, around the tense tables...we become the kind of story that makes the world just a little more whole.
Always Becoming....
Sam
