At Advance, we hear a lot of life stories. The act of telling life stories is part of our Jobs for Life curriculum, and it's one of the most important ways that we build relationships in class, and begin developing the bonds of trust that are essential to the effectiveness of class. A lot of the stories we hear at Advance are tragic. Sometimes they're horrifying. We have no interest in exploiting our friends by dramatizing their lives and bandying their stories about for maximum impact. But it's important to remember that we all have stories. When you see behavior that shocks you, it's rooted in a story. When you see anger that seems over the top, it's rooted in a story. Stories are not excuses, but they are reasons—and they are a part of us, as much as any physical attribute.
And so we bring you a story. One of many, but one that we think will touch your heart and remind all of us to see our neighbors for what they are: people with stories—and children of the King—a King who is bigger than our stories.
A Student's Story, In Her Own Words:
“As a kid growing up I was what you call a military bart (sic) My father was in the marines so we traveled from one place to another by the time I turned ten my mother had left my father and moved us to Memphis to stay with my grandmother [.] By the time I turned fourthteen (sic) my parents had divorced [.] During the divorce my mom began to use drugs crack cocaine so she sent me to stay with my father because she could no longer take care of me and my siblings [.] As time pasted (sic) my father remarried to his now wife of twenty years [.]
Now I’ve turned sixteen I was walking home from basketball practice I was attacked by five boys who kidnapped me they beat me and brutalty (sic) raped for three days not knowing if I would live or die I prayed that someone would come to my rescue [.]By the grace of God a homeless man found me laying in this abandon house laying in my own blood not knowing if I were dead or alive he kneeled down and touch my lifeless body he picked me up and took me to the nearest house where this elderly lady stayed who took me and called the police when they arrived I couldn’t see them because my eyes were swallowen (sic) but I could hear them say this the missing girl that we’ve been looking for [.] I was taken to the hospital where I stayed for two weeks while my body heeled my mom was at my beside (sic) praying to God that I get better [.]
Once I was released from the hospital I tired (sic) to commit suicide I tried to scrub my skin off my body because I felt so dirty and nasty during this [.] I had a nervous brake down which called to be hospitalized for months I’ve been stained for life thru this all this have made me cold hearted as hell [.] Andrew [Jobs for Life Instructor] this is my life story!!!!”
Andrew's Reponse:
I found the above homework assignment on my desk yesterday. Students were asked to draw or write out their life stories and prepare to share them with the rest of the class. When I read this note I closed the door to my office and crawled under my desk, where no one could see me through the window. As I hid from everyone else, I wept uncontrollably. This wasn’t the only terrible thing I had heard this week, but it was the last straw. Earlier someone else had told me she had arrived at her children’s father’s house with a gun in her purse ready to kill him, when she received a text message from me: “come to school.” I was stunned. My “random” text message prevented a murder as well as a dear friend from losing everything, including her 3 young children plus the unwanted child growing in her womb, for a life of prison. This same woman has had two teenage family members murdered in the past few months. She held one of them as they slowly died from the bullet wound. Coincidentally, I know the murderer—he was someone who I had been trying to help "escape the streets." There have been too many horror stories this week.
So now I meditate on the painful reality of life this side of heaven. This is a reality I never knew existed. Growing up, it seemed that everyone had a father to protect them. I thought everyone had a mother to love and affirm them. I didn’t know there was a different America—one where stories like the ones above are the norm, not the shocking exception. I think I need to be sobered to reality. Everything inside of me screams out to God, “why NOT me?” The life I’ve experienced so far is so radically different from the lives of my new friends. Why? It’s not fair! It’s not fair that my life has been handed to me, while my friends have only known such horrendous struggle.
Back to my friend’s homework. The last sentence haunts me the most. “Andrew this is my life story!!!!” Why does her story end at age 16? My friend is 39! What about the other 23 years of her life? What about her dropping out of high school? What about the abusive boyfriend who she feels like she can’t leave? What about her criminal background and her inability to find stable work? Now I get it. “Andrew this is my life story!!!!” Her story ends at age 16 because she has had no hope that her future will ever be anything different. The subsequent 23 years of her life have simply been an extension of the defining experiences of her childhood.
Now I wonder about this year and the next. I wonder about the next 39 years of her life. Will they also be defined by the quarantined experiences of life in the ghetto? My friend has heard the good news of the Kingdom of Jesus told in various ways nearly every day of the past month. She is also receiving free professional Christian counseling through our services. She is being told that Jesus wants to remove all of her shame; that her heavenly Father wants to comfort and embrace his beloved daughter; and that the Holy Spirit wants to give her a new life and a new identity where the old has truly passed away, and behold, new things have come. I wonder if she’ll accept this message. I wonder if she will experience true healing from all her disappointments in life. I wonder if she will believe in herself, and in her inherent value as one of God’s image bearers. I wonder if she’ll gain enough hope for her future to be one of the few adults who complete their GED. If she doesn’t, she won’t have the opportunity to pursue her dream of getting a trade from the nearby community college.
Because of the friends I've made at Advance, I am forever changed—some might say ruined. I know I can never return to the life I once knew, but I am so thankful for my new relationships. I am glad that I’m no longer blind to the injustices of our world and to my selfishness, which is daily being exposed. Like a magnetic force, I feel compelled to stop pouring myself out for my own comfort and luxury and to begin pouring myself out for the benefit of others. I don’t know what it is about identifying with other people’s brokenness, but somehow God is using it in my life to make the scriptures alive again, to give the gospel new power, and to confirm that the Christian calling of sacrificial service is an exciting and joyful calling. Like never before I pray with Jesus: “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
Andrew Vincent
Jobs for Life Program Coordinator
andrew@advancememphis.org
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