It’s popular say, “You don’t
know my story. You don’t know my
struggle.”
Well sometimes we do.
For example, we all know the
professional and personal life of actor and comedian Robin Williams. You and I know the story of his life. We can download a list of his struggles.
We know his story and
struggles so well that when he committed suicide, we assumed that it had to do
with his past struggles with drugs, or the past story of depression off-setting
his manic stage presence, or the old story of an ego crushed by waning popularity. We knew that these were problems he’d faced
repeatedly in the past. So people
speculated and pontificated based on what they knew of his story and his
struggles.
But we didn’t know until
days after he died that Robin Williams had Parkinson’s disease. This incurable, degenerative disease of the
central nervous system gradually robs its victims of control of their body,
their voice, and their mind. Advanced Parkinson’s brings dementia, but every
stage of the disease causes depression.
So maybe Robin Williams
wasn’t too “weak” to stay off drugs.
Maybe he wasn’t too much of a “coward” to deal with being less popular
on camera. Maybe he was, in the most basic,
literal, physically observable sense of the word, just SICK.
Maybe Robin Williams wasn’t
looking back at the stories and struggles we commonly knew of his past, but ahead
at the new struggles and the impending story we didn’t suspect were in his
future.
Robin Williams lead a very,
very public life. We knew his
story. We knew his struggles.
But we really didn’t know.
We didn’t know his whole
story, and the struggles we knew weren’t the toughest struggles he had to face.
Which is true for
EVERYone.
No matter how well you know
someone either publicly or personally, you never really know their whole
story. You may know what they HAVE
struggled with; but until (and unless) they tell you, you don’t know what they
ARE struggling with.
But we assume we know, don’t
we? At a certain point, we have so much
information about them already that we stop listening.
They start a sentence and you
finish it for them----- but do you see the look in their eyes, a pained look
that says, ”No. That’s not what I’m feeling”?
They tell you what they
feel and you waive it off because you’re certain it’ll pass like all the other
times, but do you see the hurt in their eyes that says, “It’s not going to pass
this time,” and maybe, “It’s NEVER passed.
You just stopped paying attention”?
Jesus’ disciples knew His
story. They’d been to His hometown of
Nazareth. They’d met His mom and
siblings. They’d heard the stories of
His birth and early years in Bethlehem and Egypt. Some of them were there,\ the day John baptized
Him. They witnessed the Pharisees' attacks. They sat with Him at night and
reviewed each long day of healing and preaching. They asked Jesus about what he did in the
years not recorded in the gospels. They
watched His every move for 3 ½ years. The
disciples knew Jesus’ story. They knew
Jesus’ struggle.
But they really didn’t.
When Jesus said, “I’m going
to be killed.” They said, “No, you ain’t.”
(Matthew 16: 21-23)
Jesus told them and showed
them who He was. They affirmed, “You are
the Christ, the Son of the Living God,” but they didn’t really see Him for Who
He is. (John 6: 69; 14: 1-12)
Jesus told His disciples
what He needed from them as followers and as friends, but they assumed that it
wasn’t that big a deal or that it would pass like every other previous storm
had passed.
And He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and
He began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, “My soul
is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.”…
Then He came to the disciples and found them sleeping. (Matthew
26: 37-38, 40)
They didn’t see; they didn’t
understand. This wasn’t just a passing
request. This was it. This was what it has always been, but you
think you know me so well that you don’t take me seriously anymore.
“What! Could you not watch
with Me one hour?”(Matthew 26: 40)
The night Jesus was taken
away to be killed, He was alone. He was in
a garden with his 11 closest friends just a stone’s throw away, but He was alone because His friends didn’t really know His story. They didn’t really know His struggle.
The disciples only really learned Jesus
after His death and resurrection.
The public is learning
Robin Williams after his death.
So sad, that we wait that
long to really know someone’s story and struggle.
We don’t have to.
Listen to the ones you
love. Hear them for who they are not just for who you already automatically
know they have been.
Give them the space to tell
you what their story IS, what their struggles ARE.
You never know when morning
will come and they won’t be there to tell you.
---Anderson
T. Graves II is a writer, community organizer and consultant for education,
ministry, and rural leadership development.
Rev. Anderson T. Graves II
is pastor of Miles Chapel CME Church (5220 Myron Massey Boulevard) in
Fairfield, Alabama; executive director of the Substance Abuse Youth
Networking Organization (SAYNO); and director of rural leadership development for the
National Institute for Human Development (NIHD).
Email atgravestwo2@aol.com
Support by check or money
order may be mailed to
Miles Chapel CME Church
P O Box 132
Fairfield, Al 35064
