Stories make up this world that we live in.
If you think about it long enough, you realize that all the
things that happen during our lives are not only part of our bigger story, but
they are also individual stories in their own right. Individual stories that
have meaningful, lasting, impacts on not only ourselves but on the people
around us at that time in the past, at this time in the present, and at some
time in the future. And when you put it that way, it can feel one of two ways:
either a lot heavier, or a lot more freeing.
For me personally, I love stories – of all kinds. I love
reading and listening to other peoples’ stories and other peoples’ lives. What
I’m not always good at is telling and writing my own stories. I realize today,
during this current story, that that’s a common theme within humanity. It’s
easier to sit in silence and focus on other peoples’ stories than to come to
grips with and vocalize our own. At the moment in which we are comfortable with
that, I find that God uses someone else’s story (even someone we’ve never met)
to impact our own, and stir within us the desire to share our story.
That’s what happened to me today, during this 8.5 hour ride
from Staley, North Carolina back to Hope, Indiana. The person God is using is
Jamie Tworkowski and his book “If You
Feel Too Much”. I’ve never met Jamie – although I did hear him speak at a
conference once – but I can say I feel connected to him. I can say that his
stories continue to impact my own in ways I never dreamt they would. I could
talk… or rather write… pages about Jamie, the good he is doing and the impact
he is having on my stories and the stories of countless people. It’s human
nature to divert attention to someone else instead of ourselves when it comes
to the tough parts. What is important today is that Jamie reminded me that writing
my stories, it’s engrained in who I am. When I’m not writing these stories,
when I’m not vocalizing them I don’t feel like myself as much as I should.
Here’s the current story.
The current story that I’m in, the one that fits inside the
27 (and a half) year story of my life is one of restless content. I realize
that’s an oxymoron… so let me explain.
I like my life. I have a great job, a nice home, reliable
truck, many friends, a small group of trusted advisors, and an amazing family.
I’m content with those things (most of the time). I have no need to complain,
and believe me when I say I’m not doing that here. This isn’t me trying to find
a reason to write by looking for something to complain about – this is me
organizing the restlessness and telling this story. Where I find myself feeling
restless is in the kind of work I’m doing, the changes that come along with investing
in other people’s stories, and the often annoying uncertainty of what God is
doing “behind the scenes”. I have to say that being restlessly content is quite
the double edged sword. One edge being that I am thankful for the way that God
has blessed me, the other edge being I am… expectant for what is to come, both
the good and the seemingly bad.
The writer in me is almost always trying to finish the end
of a story before it’s time. I can compare my thought process as being very
similar to a “Pick-your-own-ending” novel. You remember what I’m talking about,
those books where the author would present a cliff-hanging-esque moment and
then write “If you want to explore the dark, cold cavern go to page 57 OR if
you want to walk back to your truck and drive to your Mom’s house for pie turn
to page 71.” If you and I are honest with ourselves, we know we ultimately try
to read both without getting confused. We want to be risk takers within our
stories, but also stick to what’s comfortable. What that means for this current
story that I find myself in is a lot of time considering both scenarios, and
ultimately being none-the-wiser for doing so. Whether it’s navigating a
friendship that has changed drastically, planning my career path, anticipating
the next big accomplishment, or deciphering a stirring in my heart for someone
I’m not sure I had thought of in that way previously – I want to “cheat the
system” and explore both endings before it happens. I want to skip ahead and
write my own ending. Ultimately that ending is the friendship returns to what
it once was and I get the girl. We all want to create the endings to our own
stories. And while we have an impact in the direction of our stories, we are
merely the protagonist, while God is the Author.
What I’m learning is that my choices, in fact, due lead to
the ending to my stories. Slowly. What I’m realizing is that if I keep trying
to jump to the ending, I miss the rest of the story. If the classics jumped
from beginning to end without the story in the middle, they wouldn’t be
classics. How many people would be talking about Moby Dick 165 years later if
it said “Call me Ishmel.” And then the next words were “Now small fowls flew
screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep
sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sear rolled on as it
rolled five thousand years ago.” The only thing that would be said about a
story written like that, would be that the author was a nut job and the book
was awful. There is beauty in the journey of the story.
That’s the moral of my current story. That there is beauty
in the journey of the story. At some point in a future story I’ll look back at
this story, at the confusion, the uncertainty, the enjoyment, the restlessness
and the contentment – and I’ll wish I had slowed down enough to appreciate the
journey of that story. I’m realizing this current story is one worth telling,
and that’s very telling in and of itself.
To be continued…
Grace and Peace,
