Not Much Like You And Me

As I Was Saying is a forum for a variety of perspectives to foster faith-related conversations among our readers with the goal of mutual learning, even in disagreement. Apart from articles written by editorial staff, these perspectives do not necessarily reflect the views of The Banner.

At first glance, the words were beautiful.

“Jenna Hoff is much like you and me.” So began a story a local publication was writing about me.

A draft had been sent for my review. It detailed my very ordinary, happy life—my education and various roles as a wife, mother of four, friend, writer, and student. It recounted my journey in adopting older youth and parenting kids with histories of trauma and complex disabilities while living with a complex disability myself.

The story described me as moving through the world with grace; I thought that quite wonderful, given that klutz is my middle name. No one ever before has called me graceful.

It focused on how communicating through an AAC (augmentative and alternative communication) device has made each of my life’s roles possible. Having an electronic voice has opened the world for me.

The article also provided me the opportunity to share how thankful I am for AAC and to express my deep gratitude to the speech-language pathologist and clinic who introduced it into my life.

The story was very well written—and yet, I kept circling back to the words “much like you and me.”

I reread the sentence several times, trying to understand why it wouldn’t let me go. On the surface, it sounded kind, even affirming. But each time I came back to it, the distance it created grew louder.

You and me.

When had I become much like others instead of part of everyone else?

AAC doesn’t make me different; it’s simply a tool I use to function in life. It’s similar to how some people wear glasses to live their lives well.

I asked a close friend if I was overreacting. Was I being too sensitive?

She replied immediately, “You are spot on. That wording is AWFUL.” Along with other choice words not suitable for print, she added with delightful sarcasm, “Congratulations on managing to be almost normal like ‘us.’ Barf.”

In the end, I contacted the writer and shared my concerns. She was very gracious, and without fanfare, the concerning phrase was removed from the story’s final publication.

This experience got me thinking about how often situations like this happen when we interact with others. Our minds naturally sort people into ‘us’ and ‘them,’ even when our intentions are good. This influences our actions. I see it in myself all the time—and have to work hard to fight against it.

It’s especially true when a visible difference, such as disability, age, ethnicity, or socioeconomic status, sets someone apart. Unconsciously, we see some as not on an even footing, not part of us. This happens all throughout society—even in our churches, Bible studies, and friendship groups. Christians certainly aren’t immune.

But natural as this might be, it contradicts our call as Christians to love our neighbors as ourselves (Mark 12:30).

It brings to mind the teaching in James 2:2-4, 9-10, which describes two men entering a meeting of believers. One is wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, while the other is dirty and wearing rags.

James explains that if we show special attention to the man wearing beautiful clothes and offer him a good seat, but tell the poor man to “stand there” or “sit on the floor by my feet,” then we will have shown discrimination and favoritism.

James strongly warns against this, cautioning that it will cause us to become “judges with evil thoughts.” We are to love all neighbors equally.

It is a poignant call to action for Christians to love—a love that doesn’t see “much like you and me,” but sees all of us together, with everyone fully belonging.