Sometimes the difference between a hero and a villain is who’s telling the story.
Years ago, I walked around Disney dressed as Princess Jasmine, with Belle by my side. This weekend, I returned to Magic Kingdom wearing Maleficent ears.
That’s how easy it is to become the villain in someone else’s story.
Quite the character development, wouldn’t you say? 😂
As I looked through the pictures, I started thinking about something.
Every princess has a story. But so does every villain.
And sometimes, the difference is simply whose side of the story we’ve heard.
Think about it. We meet people in the middle of their stories. We see their reactions without knowing what triggered them. We see their anger without understanding the hurt beneath it. We see the walls they’ve built without knowing what happened to make them believe those walls were necessary.
And somehow, from that limited view, we decide who they are.
I’ve done it. And I’ve experienced it.
I’ve made assumptions about people without knowing what they were carrying. I’ve also experienced what it feels like to have someone form an opinion of me based on a version of my story they never bothered to question.
But here’s where things get complicated.
Being misunderstood doesn’t automatically mean we’re innocent.
Sometimes we’ve hurt people. Sometimes we’ve made decisions we’re not proud of. Sometimes the version of us someone remembers is a version we’ve worked very hard to leave behind.
And we have to own that.
Our pain may explain our behavior, but it doesn’t automatically excuse it.
At the same time, our mistakes shouldn’t become a life sentence.
There’s a difference between acknowledging what we’ve done and believing that’s all we’ll ever be.
I think that’s one of the hardest lessons in healing. Learning to take responsibility for our past without allowing it to dictate our future.
And learning to extend that same grace to others.
One of my favorite examples of this in Scripture is Rahab.
When we’re introduced to her in Joshua 2, she’s identified as a prostitute. That’s the label attached to her name.
But her story doesn’t end with that introduction.
Rahab recognizes the power of God and makes a courageous decision to protect the Israelite spies. In Hebrews 11, she’s remembered for her faith. And in Matthew 1, we find her name in the genealogy of Jesus.
Think about that for a moment.
A woman who could have been remembered only by her past became part of the lineage of our Savior.
Her past wasn’t erased. It simply wasn’t the final word.
And I wonder how often we forget that when we’re looking at ourselves or someone else.
We see a label. God sees a life.
We see a chapter. God sees the whole book.
The song I chose for my Maleficent reel includes a line about a magic mirror. And that got me thinking about how mirrors work.
A mirror reflects what’s standing in front of it. But it can’t tell you what brought that person there.
It can’t show the heartbreak, the healing, the prayers, the mistakes, the lessons, or the quiet battles nobody else witnessed.
And sometimes that’s exactly how we look at people.
We see what’s in front of us and assume we understand everything behind it.
But we don’t.
And here’s another uncomfortable truth. There are probably people who could tell a version of our story that we wouldn’t recognize.
Not necessarily because they’re lying, but because they experienced us through their own perspective, their own wounds, and their own understanding.
That doesn’t mean their experience is invalid. It also doesn’t mean their perspective is the complete picture.
Both things can be true.
I can be misunderstood and still have something to learn.
I can acknowledge someone’s pain without accepting every accusation.
I can take accountability for my past without being imprisoned by it.
And I can extend grace without abandoning healthy boundaries.
That’s what healing continues to teach me.
It’s not just about changing how I see myself. It’s about changing how I see other people.
Being slower to assume. More willing to listen. More aware that the person standing in front of me has lived an entire life I know very little about.
And remembering that sometimes the grace I’m hoping someone will extend to me is the very grace God is asking me to extend to someone else.
Maybe that’s the lesson hidden in a silly pair of Maleficent ears.
People are more complicated than the roles we’ve assigned them.
Princess. Villain. Hero. Failure.
Those labels might make stories easier to tell, but they rarely capture the fullness of a human life.
And perhaps that’s why I’m so grateful that God is the author of my story.
Because even when someone else decides I’m the villain in theirs, I can trust that He knows every chapter of mine.
A mirror can show you who someone appears to be. But only God knows the whole story.
So before you decide who the villain is, perhaps ask yourself:
Have I heard the whole story?
If you’ve been the villain in someone else’s story,
remember their chapter doesn’t have to be your ending. 💜