We all know I’m obsessed with stories. Cristian’s Commonplace is a space for me to further explore stories and share my findings with you. Because no matter the package they come in—films, novels, songs, plays—I adore them so much. They’re magic. That’s why I’m continually taking steps to create more of my own, and I always choose to envelop myself in the stories of others.
But perhaps at the foundation of storytelling, and one of the most important forms of all stories, are the stories shared between neighbors. Gratefully, this is something I’ve recently been reminded of—and I will no longer forget how vital these stories are for our wellbeing, communities, and the act of simply being human.
Stories Create Avenues for Empathy 🫂
As some of you may know, my money job is to help handle communications for a United Methodist Church. And at the end of 2025, during the season of Advent, we facilitated a series focused on stories.
When my friend Reed, the pastor who pitched the idea not only to share the stories during services but also on one of the church’s podcast shows I produce, I was immediately all in. I knew it’d be the kind of thing that I wasn't only checking off a list, but that I truly wanted to help succeed and take root. So, set to be the central focus for four Sundays, Reed invited members of the community to share their stories.
I was blown away by it all.
Hearing the four storytellers share their stories, first in a room as we recorded, then a few times as I edited and published the podcasts, and then finally once more as they were being interviewed on their given Sunday in front of the community, I was deeply moved. Not only did I understand the vulnerability required to do such a thing, but I realized the power that came from their experiences, their memories. Everything they had overcome, and are overcoming, is making them the wonderful people they are. There is such strength in the becoming.
There’s a Premium on Human Stories ✍️
Maybe it’s just the algorithm on my feeds, but I have a feeling a lot of us are getting to that point—if you’re not already lightyears beyond it. Because in response to all the noise and discourse over AI slop and disinformation and the loneliness epidemic and skyrocketing screentimes and cheap dopamine, there is a movement happening. A new renaissance in the digital age, I’d say. As someone who grew up on the cusp of the digital generation, and who seeks to create for a living (a catch-22 that I’m unpacking, to be sure), I am following it closely.
The point of the movement is to have encounters that are less, well, digital. To foster real community, have authentic interactions. To feel real art and access less ephemera. To take what we can offline.
People are fed up. I know I am. That’s why analog living and the migration away from screens is taking place. Books are back and are so damn sexy. There are meetups for silently reading and flipping pages next to others. People are seeking communities engaging in new kinds of philosophical and theological conversations. Writers are finding their tribes, combating the bots with their humanity and the ink in their pens. That’s surely why newsletter platforms have blown up—people are looking for human stories and want to be reminded that they are not alone in the beautiful mess that is life. Even some companies are seeking and hiring storytellers, recognizing the movement's waves at a macro level.
You Are a Storyteller 🫵
Another aspect of the storytelling series at work that I loved, and that my friend implemented, was what happened after the services. In the room next door, several chairs would be placed in a circle. If you’ve been to a recovery meeting, the vibe was similar. People were invited to join in not only to discuss the story they had heard, but also to turn around and tell their own. I learned more about the community I work with during that storytelling series than I had since starting there three years prior.
Similarly, my uncle David, who is also a father figure to me, has started a meetup to inspire and lead young men finding their way. I applaud him in his pursuits. Of course, sharing stories is a central aspect of the meetings.
So, friends, listen to stories. Share your story. You don’t have to be a writer with a novel or newsletter to be a storyteller. You just have to be human. Invite someone for coffee. Go beyond the all-too-familiar:
“How are you?"
"I’m good."
"You?"
"I’m good, thanks.”
Stories are what tie us together, with threads of pain and joy and hope and sorrow and love and frustration and everything complex. They force us to see perspectives outside our own. They help us relate. They can turn the passivity of the everyday into purposeful participation, and then from there, action and change can spring forth. But first, we must listen, we must share.
Stories have always been important and integral to the human experience, but creating space for the exchanging of human stories is especially essential right now.
I'll invite you to start a chain: Tell me a story. Reply to this entry. 😌
