Human Interest Stories (Friday Devotional)

Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others.

- Philippians 2:3-4

The Olympic Games, which draw to their conclusion this weekend in Paris, have captivated the world’s attention for the last few weeks. Sports to which we normally pay no mind, from swimming to track and field to table tennis, are suddenly riveting when there’s a medal on the line. For one month every other year we all become ultra-focused on athletes who—excepting transcendent stars like Simone Biles—were unknown to us before the Games and who are often forgotten after them.

What is the special sauce that makes us fall in love with Olympians so quickly? There’s national pride, sure, but that doesn’t explain why we also find room in our hearts for Brazilian gymnasts, French swimmers, and Jamaican sprinters. There’s our admiration for the athletes’ skill, but if that was all, wouldn’t these sports be on primetime TV more often instead of settling for late-night broadcasts on ESPN2?

I think—and all indication is that NBC Sports agrees with me—what draws us in are the human interest stories. When you learn that Luka Mkheidze fled war-torn Georgia and came to France as a refugee in 2010, how could you not cheer for him winning judo’s silver medal for his new country? When you read about how Gabby Thomas balances her 3-6 hours of training with her nightly work at an Austin volunteer clinic for patients without health insurance, how could you root for anyone else in the 200-meter dash? And who wouldn’t get emotional seeing Chinese badminton player Liu Yinchen propose to his girlfriend and mixed doubles partner Huang Yaqiong right after the pair won gold?

These kinds of narratives inspire us, bring us to tears, and otherwise compel us night after night. We can’t get enough of such stories, and we’re always ready to hear the next one. Learning the backgrounds of the athletes is what transforms them from curiosities into people we suddenly care about deeply and powerfully.

But here’s something worth remembering as the Paris Olympics end: everybody has a story. Most are not as cinematic as Olympians’—there are no cameras documenting their daily struggles, no rousing musical score in the background, no victorious moment on the medal stand. But your community is full of stirring stories of single mothers working three jobs to put food on the table, of teachers sacrificing their time, energy, and money to help students with nowhere else to turn, of retirees volunteering 50 hours a week in their twilight years to serve their neighbors. Every day in your neighborhood somebody is battling doubt, depression, and grief with the fortitude of an Olympian and persevering.

There are so many stories to be told if we will only listen, so many neighbors to love if we will only approach like the Samaritan instead of passing by on the other side like the priest and the Levite. Human interest stories need not be the exclusive domain of NBC Sports—there are plenty to learn about in your own community. You just need to open your eyes, your ears, and your heart.