I’ve been thinking lately how much our lives are like a story.
Stories, at least the good ones, take time to tell. They unfold, pieces at a time.
I read The Hunger Games a little over a week ago. I enjoyed it. I thought it was a well written book that told an interesting story.
The first page didn’t explain anything about the hunger games themselves. It didn’t clearly explain how we were looking at a nation that had arisen from the ashes of America in a dystopian future.
You learned or gleaned these pieces of understanding along the way. It felt like walking into a house that you’ve never visited before with many doors. Each one held a room full of details; some interesting, some bland.
I often want God to give me answers, or to make clear my future path and plans…but what he wants to do is let the story unfold. It’s a rich story with depth, not a book of quick answers and little left to wonder about.
The Bible itself isn’t a text book, it’s a grand narrative about God and the flawed people he loves.
In books, I never skip ahead to see what’s going to happen. It means less when you don’t know what it takes to get there. But in life, I’m constantly whining about wanting to know how it will all turn out. I think this would steal away from experience, the journey. And I think that life consists not of where we are, but how we got there.
Sometimes the story of our lives wanders and meanders, but that’s what gives it depth and breadth. The best stories take time to tell, and I want my life to be a great story.