Brett Armstrong's Blog, page 8

Some Lessons Learned from My Little One (Part 8)

 

[image error]We just finished celebrating my little one’s birthday. You never really comprehend the speed of time’s passage until you see it’s work on a child. When you’re an adult, a year can blur into another. But seeing the difference a year makes in my little one is staggering.

I have a confession. I’m a proud parent. The sort that will go on endlessly about my son if some unwitting person opens that door. He’s hardly perfect, but he is better than I could have asked. In terms of behavior, intelligence, and health. I have been profoundly blessed.

Another confession. I have not always loved and savored my time with my little one as much as now. That isn’t to say I was unhappy before, I was happy. Or that I didn’t love him or feel a tenderness towards him, I did. What I mean is the measure of each has increased so much I’m startled. Much of that is due to seeing and hearing the little person coming out in him. His creativity and innocence. And his silliness, so much silliness.

For all my happiness, there looms what I have perceived as a dark cloud. My little one starts school this year and I dread it. Not school itself, having a wife as a teacher and spent eight years of university studies, I like school and learning. What I don’t like is what it represents. He is entering the world and that inexorable wearying and jading works on everyone will happen to my sweet, innocent little one. His smiles will become fewer, his love less free in giving and perhaps sincerity. He will cease to be young and gain knowledge and wisdom, both good but also equally tragic.

[image error]It’s no coincidence that at the moment I’m re-reading Perelandra by CS Lewis. The second book of his space trilogy is about a speculative second Eden and Temptation. The Eve of Perelandra (Venus) is aided by Lewis’s protagonist in trying to resist the Temptor and stave off that world’s Fall. There is something remarkably similar, at least on the surface, between the loss of innocence and joy at the Fall of Man and childhood’s end.

I don’t mean to launch into a long examination of those parallels or an exegesis of Perelandra. One thing has kind of stuck out to me. There’s a number of discussions in the book about good or rather goods. For a long time now my dread of my little one growing up has centered on the change in his nature and our relationship. There’s nothing quite like having him run up and insist I come play with him (the parallels with our relationship with God that it invokes could be a post of its own). I wish I could convey how wonderful that is and how I don’t want that to pass. Perelandra calls that looking back to the wave, the good, that has passed. Trying to cling to it.

Sometimes I get nostalgic for before my little one was around. The ease and flexibility my wife and I had to do so many things. Things we can’t do now (like go out together after 8 PM to do an escape room or anything really).  And sleep, a full eight hours while still having accomplished all I need to in a day…yeah, I miss that very much. Those were good times.

What I had trouble grasping till contextualizing it with my relationship with my little one is that notion of there being a good that is and a good that has passed. That each is good but different in quality should have been obvious. Also, that are good we want but those we are given has taken new meaning with me. Because life before my son was good, but life with him is good as well. They are good for different reasons and in different ways. Soon the good I have now will pass and there will be a different good. Lord willing, the good of seeing my son grow and become a man. His first sports game, first “A”, my dearest hope that he becomes a follower of Christ. He will not doubt grow cooler and more distant from me. But there are so many new goods I would be blessed to have, I can’t begrudge having to let go of the one I’ve enjoyed.

There is of course the possibility of good I would not choose. Maybe there are no “A”s ahead, no sports, there may indeed be no time ahead at all for me or him. Such good can hurt to take. God adjures us in Scripture to keep pressing on (Philippians 3:12-14), to forget what lays behind and strive for what’s ahead. I feel like Perelandra and my son have taught me to not just think about moving on from the sinful past but not being tripped up by the previous good either. Certainly, we are to remember things, and in times when repentance is needed to return to old ways (Hebrews 10:32-35, Revelation 2:2-5, 3:2-4). But clinging to an old good out of envy for the past, a covetous desire for something you do not have, that we should leave behind. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28, ESV).

Whether it is a good we choose or not, or a new type of good of different quality and even degree, all are to be received with Thanksgiving (1 Thessalonians 5:18). So, that’s what I’m going to fight to remember, as I relish the closing days of my son’s innocent childhood and the coming days of him becoming the man God would have him to become.

Back with Big News

It’s been quite some time since I posted on here. It hasn’t been for lack of interest. I wrote at least ten posts that have never made it onto here for varying reasons. Among the things keeping me busy, I’ve completed a contemporary, supernatural adventure novel titled All Their Guilty Stains. I’m hoping a publisher currently reviewing it decides to publish it. I also started a new fantasy duology. I haven’t written much on it yet, but you can check out the premise for The Dead of Zarim on my Works In Progress page. I’m also finishing up edits to Day Moon‘s sequel.

By far, the biggest thing that has consumed my time writing-wise is the upcoming debut of my epic fantasy series QUEST OF FIRE. Book 1, The Gathering Dark releases April 25th. That’s just two months away! I’ve teased at it and a novella in the series, to release soon after, on my Twitter and Facebook accounts, but not shared anything here. So, here’s some teaser sketches from the world of QUEST OF FIRE. They’re pretty quick ones I made up and all are important characters within the book. Hereafter, I should be sending out updates about Quest of Fire, along with some of my normal posts, more frequently, so check back often, and let me know in the comments below if you want to come along with me and #JoinTheQuestOfFire.

[image error]A member of the honor guard to the Viceroy of Ecthelowall.

 

Lesson Learned From my Father

[image error]                It’s impossible not to think about our fathers on this day. The memories we’ve formed of and with them. The things we saw them doing. The things they taught us even when they weren’t trying. As a dad with a little boy of my own, I appreciate all those years of my dad looking ahead when I was young and imagining my son. He would tell me I would do this or that with my son and tell me I would understand things he felt and did much better when I became a father. He of course was right. The fun things Dad and I did together I now want to do with my son. The fear and hope he must have felt and the love, those I understand so much better now. But the lesson I want to talk about today is among those things my dad probably wasn’t intending to teach me.

My house sits under a very large and very old poplar tree. The tree and I are not on the best terms (an oddity for me because I generally am very fond of trees). Among my beefs with the tree is that it at one time it was home to a demon squirrel. Perhaps it was only a mutant. I can’t be sure but I read a lot of malevolence into its actions. We bought a large rolling trash can, the kind that can hold a whole week’s trash by itself. The squirrel chewed holes through the hardened plastic and would go in and out tearing into our trash and scattering it around the base of the tree.

I was angry, but I tried to rise above. So two metal cans replaced the large can. The squirrel took the lids off the cans. We bought bungee cords and bungeed the lids down. It chewed through the bungees and took off the lids. For those who doubt a squirrel capable of such things, again, I refer you to my descriptors of demonic or mutant. Because I actually observed the squirrel in the midst of its mischief. I think it was letting me see it the way some criminals taunt police by leaving clues.

The final move was to enlist my dad’s help in building a wooden trash bin. Any time my dad builds something, it is made to last. Heavy, solid woodcraft every time. He didn’t disappoint. When we were finished building it, I could barely open the lid, much less the squirrel. I took great pleasure in the fact that for about six months there were no more trash scattering incidents. Eventually, the squirrel had to find someone else to torment.

But then it happened. Our over-heavy lid over-stressed the screws anchoring it to the trash bin’s frame and fell off. That wasn’t the lesson I learned. Though I will say in retrospect, making lids light does seem to be an obvious feature of most trash receptacles. What I actually learned may make this seem like a massive digression, because I didn’t learn it until my dad returned to help me repair the trash bin.

While we were working, we ran across the need for a board we hadn’t anticipated. It had very specific dimensional requirements. A full board would be a waste of wood, and none of our board leftovers from that day were long enough or wide enough. So I ran to the shed. Something my dad inadvertently taught me over the years is that you always save wood from any project. You never know when you’ll need it. Sure enough, there was a board that probably wouldn’t have been worth saving to most competent (perhaps even sane) craftsmen. But I had saved it. It was perfect for this job.

As we were finishing up getting the board ready for use, something struck me. That board was there at just the right time. It was a castoff and had been in my shed for months, maybe years. But it was exactly right for this one situation. I feel like there was a lesson in that about how sometimes, we go for years feeling like we’re on the sidelines, not filling a purpose. We’re never the right fit. And we keep wondering if we’ll ever find our time, our moment. But what we don’t know while we’re in the shed with a dozen other boards stacked on and around us, is that there is a moment, a purpose God has for us. It may be small. It may not be expected, but when the time comes we are perfectly suited to His purposes.

One of the best known verses from the Book of Esther is 4:14b, “Who knows, perhaps you have come to your royal position for such a time as this.” (HCSB) That is an encouraging thought, as is, “I am sure of this, that He who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6, HCSB)  We have our overarching purpose of honoring God, but also tasks specifically meant for us and God does not leave us incomplete or lacking. He will complete His work in us and fit us perfectly.

 

Some Lessons Learned From My Little One (Part 7)

 

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Today we had a birthday party for my little boy. He’s still very young and after his nap took a little while to warm up to the small group who came to celebrate with us. The presents and delicious brownies my wife made helped quite a bit. By about hour two he was giddy and we had a game of trying to keep balloons afloat that got everyone in on the fun and especially had my little guy skidding around giggling. In short, he, and everyone else, had a blast.

I’m an only child and it looks like my son will be as well. As an only child, I’ve learned to be quite content “playing” by myself. There are only a handful of times in a given year where   I really got why people love having big families. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’m probably a 9.8 in terms of social awkwardness, so big groups usually just mean anxiety. But, there are those times that stand out like gems in the timeline of my life where I haven’t wanted anyone to leave. Tonight was one of them. I can tell my little guy felt like that too.  Since I’m an only child and being alone comes so naturally to me, it got me to thinking about what makes these kinds of moments stand out so much for me. Why, when I’m okay by myself, I love being with family.

After some introspection, I think it is something fundamental to how we have been created. People were made to be with people. Again, I’m an introverted, only child who can pretty much live in my own head for hours at a time without the need for outside interaction. I get independence. But I can’t deny that pull to be with others. It’s a glimpse into the character of the Creator, Who being outside time and space, completely whole and self-satisfied, still chose to create beings with whom to have relationships. He didn’t have to have us, but He wanted us and still does. This parallel seems especially important given that most Christians will be celebrating Palm Sunday tomorrow and Easter next Sunday. A day commemorating the level of love and sacrifice God was willing to show in order to restore the broken relationship between Himself and His creation.

The joy of these kinds of rare moments of family fellowship are also a picture, in my opinion, of Heaven. One day, all eyes will be on God the Father. Every member of His family will be gathered to Him and the joy of being with Him and with one another will know no limits or end. My son and everything he wanted to do at his party were the center of our attention, but we adults still found ourselves enjoying being with one another even as we focused on my son. I think that will be the same in Heaven. God at the center, our sole focus, but at the same time a blissful awareness and satisfaction in the company of all who are joined in a mutual love of Christ.

Another constant in my life has been the fleeting nature of events like tonight. People move, relationships get broken, and most painfully, people pass away. Imagine the pure, unmitigated bliss of never having the feeling of nights like tonight never end.

One Last Lesson

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It’s been almost two weeks since I had an episode of Star Wars Rebels to look forward to. For four years I followed the series about a bunch of idealistic misfits who manage to become a major force for change in the fictional far, far away galaxy. It’s the first TV series I can recall that I followed from inception to finale, which is a compliment to creator Dave Filoni and those working on it. I didn’t stick with it just because it was Star Wars, I watched because it did an excellent job of telling its stories

That’s not to say Rebels didn’t have faults or oddities. I think it stuck truer to the style and nature of storytelling inherent in the original trilogy than the sequel trilogy, but that’s not so much why I bring up the show. I mention it, because I’m sad it’s over and excited to see what comes next. As someone who likes telling stories that’s something you strive for, so understanding that feeling is key to my growth as a writer. More importantly, as someone who believes everything universally experienced by mankind has a significance, and I have no doubt the wistfulness of something special ending is universal, I really want to know what is going on.  I think Star Wars Rebels helped me figure it out.

A major theme used in final promotions and in the closing episodes of Rebels was “One last lesson.”

When Ezra finishes his lesson and the final episode credits roll, as an audience, there’s the desire for something more. For this experience to which we’ve been tied to not end. Anytime we finish something that spans a significant amount of time, whether it be a book/movie/television series or some phase of our life like graduating from college, we face that moment where we realize it’s over and we wish that it wasn’t. Where does that come from? I would argue it is from our innate desire for permanence. We as human beings are finite. We have a beginning and regardless of your views on the afterlife, we have at the very least an end in this world. So it would seem very natural to view our dislike for endings as a projection of our greater dislike of life’s ending. One might argue it isn’t really possible to tease out which is first here, our dislike of endings and therefore death, or our dislike of death and therefore endings. But Scripture helps shed some light on the ordering.

“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:22-23)

If all of Creation longs to be set free from the present state of things, we have then the origin for a number of things. One our love of escape from the real world in the form of stories and two our desire to get to the ending, which we usually assume will be good (notably, even though at the outset Star Wars Rebels seemed almost certain to have to end badly in order to fit in with the original trilogy, I still found myself expecting that the story couldn’t end so dark). We recognize innately this world’s limitations for fulfillment and long for the last page of its story, where everything is set free from the burdens weighing everything down. At the same time we have another inherent sensibility at work:

“For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.” (2 Corinthians 5:4)

We don’t like endings, though we eagerly expect them, because we all want the story to go ever on. In each of us is a notion of eternity and our desire for it. Even those who do not believe in life after death, couch their end in terms of existing on as atomic matter forming the fabric of the universe. Being the fabric of the universe and at the same time having beliefs of its vast period of existence coupled together seem like an atheist’s equivalent of longing for the eternal even if expressed in different terms. So now, we have, as I see it, the two halves of what makes it so hard to see stories end. In them is the microcosm of the greater struggle with longings we often dare not face directly, able to take flight in a safer plain. In fiction, we find ourselves able to face truths of reality we could scarce do so otherwise. Star Wars Rebels had a potent last lesson for on finality. We long for the end of things, because we sense it must be better than the present, yet we long for permanence. We are all quietly yearning for a city “whose builder is God” (Hebrews 11:10, 16).

 

Some Lessons Learned From My Little One (Part 6)

[image error]    If you’ve been following my posts lately, you’ve probably noticed there are quite a few, like this one, discussing a lesson I’ve learned from my son. He’s a toddler, so conventional wisdom would say he should be the one doing the learning, but every interaction we have takes on a greater meaning to me. I very much believe God crafted the world around us in such a way as to see a reality beyond this one. I don’t always agree with Platonist philosophy, but when I do it is usually on this point. So, when something comes natural to me as a father, it makes me wonder, is that not some inkling of how God, Who is extensively described in Scripture as a Father to His people, relates to us? Of course, I’m flawed, so anything I do, even if in imitation of my Creator, is just looking in a mirror darkly or a poor facsimile. But it is something, and today I want to talk about love.

Recently my mom told me about a news story in which a toddler in England was taken into the woods by some older neighbor boys.  They then proceeded to torture and kill the toddler for fun. Rage and disgust are pretty natural reactions to such a story (which I haven’t been able to factually verify, though I have no doubt our broken world is legitimately filled with similar tragedies). What I came away with wasn’t just anger over injustice and evil, it was the consciousness that the little boy from the story was roughly the same age as my son. I couldn’t imagine my little guy…

I suppose I should confess something: I’m kind of surprised by my love for my son. Not the depth as much as the nature. Not only do I flinch from imagining him a victim, but I intensely hate the idea of his sadness. The other night I had to take away some toys, because I had told him if he insisted on lying to me about something I knew was a lie, I would have to take the toys for the night. It wasn’t even all of his toys and he was about to go to sleep for the night, but I felt wretched when I followed through with it. Looking at his little head hung and hearing him ask if I was going to take his favorite stuffed animal (the one he never is more than a few quick hops away from), I felt like a monster.

You see, before we had our son, I always imagined parental love to be a little more possessive. Like my son is mine and that is why I’m so fiercely protective and selfless. Which, as it turns out, was really dumb to think. It’s so much more than that and as irresistible and intrinsic to me now as my own heartbeat and gravity’s pull. I’m protective of him, because I can’t stand the thought of him hurting or the spark I see in him fading (he is generally a very good boy and most always happy). Parental love really isn’t about possessiveness at all. Here are some things it does seem to be about and they are all interrelated:

Protective – I want to shield my son. Guard him from all harm and suffering. I know I can’t, but all the freedom I formerly intended to open-handedly bestow to him, I can’t imagine being so complacent about now. So much evil and corruption is in our world, I feel the need to check every door ahead of him, pad footsteps, and take each corner slowly. God is described as our strong tower (Proverbs 18:10), our deliverer (Psalm 18:2), and a very present help in all our troubles (Psalm 46:1). He wants to and does protect us from everything that could overwhelm us (1 Corinthians 10:13, Romans 8:35-39)
Instructive – I need my son to listen to me. Not because I have an ego necessitating I always be heeded, but for his safety. For his well-being. I want him to have the best, do the best, be the best he can be and I simply have a larger view of land’s lay than he does. So, I try to guide him, even when it means feeling mortally wounded for exacting the most minimal of punishments. I think that is a bit like God. God isn’t looking on the world happily executing judgments against us, though strictly speaking He has every right to do so. Rather, He is long-suffering, “not willing that any should perish,” (2 Peter 3:9). Even when He does execute His judgment it is always meant to be instructive. To pull us back from a path we should not walk. Like when I make my son sit in timeout for not listening at home, because I know when we’re in a busy parking lot listening could make all the difference. Love, not any binding obligation, moves God to seek the best for us.
Hopeful – Love “bears all things, “believes all things”, “hopes all things.” (1 Corinthians 13) I want the very best for my son. Whatever it may be, I hope for my son to experience good. For him to listen and understand my intentions in protecting and instructing him, so he grows up as pain-free as possible. It’s significant that Christ is shown to be knocking at the doors of individual hearts (Revelation 3:20) seeking to come in and show us to the fullest fulfillment of His hopes for us.
Patient – I don’t expect my little guy to do everything he should right away. It takes time and I know God shapes His children. Gradually bringing us closer and closer to the completion we’ll experience at Christ’s return (Philippians 1:6, Ephesians 2:7-10).


Sacrificial – Though I have so many hopes for my son and have patience to bear them out, who he becomes is ultimately his choice. It could be possible to keep the choice in my own hands. I could lock my son in a room with no windows, control everything to which he is exposed—what he eats, reads, sees, etc. What sort of life is that? I think in the same way, God chose to give us free will. It gives us the capacity for evil and rejecting Him and is a choice often questioned by skeptics. But knowing the alternative would be to leave us in a bland world devoid of the depth of feeling we can experience when freely following Him, how can we fault Him that choice? And like the Lord, as parents we can try to guide our children, loving them fiercely in the ways I mentioned, with the knowledge it may and likely will require great sacrifice on our part. The Lord certainly accepted that sacrifice was part of our relationship with Him, standing as the deepest expression of His love for us. If this desire to see my son be well and thrive is so strong in me that I readily imagine myself suffering the worst things possible in his defense, then how much more must that be true of God for His children? Isn’t Christ’s sacrifice exemplary of just that?

I know, just as I’ll ultimately fail to explain my love to my son, I have and will always fail to capture adequately a description of God’s love. Love, true love, is such a robust word it encompasses so many actions and feelings and desires: patience, kindness, forgiveness, understanding…active and encompassing all of one’s efforts. True love is not blind. It is not unaware of shortcomings and faults, but sees beyond them to the beauty and worth of its object. God is love (1 John 4:16) and it is a privilege to mirror even a fraction of His love when I see my son.

Some Lessons Learned From My Little One (Part 5)

[image error]      There have been a number of small moments with my little guy that have had a profound impact on me. My intention was to make a post summarizing each simultaneously. I thought I would break from my tendency to be wordy and try to be concise. Obviously I’m still a recovering word-aholic, because that hasn’t happened here. Here is the most poignant one for me and my hope is to share another soon:

Little Guy: “I scared…”

           Me: “It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared. Daddy is here.”

Anyone with young children (or older ones for that matter) has undoubtedly had this moment. When your child runs to you for comfort or hopes you won’t leave the room at bedtime. Sometimes my little guy plays this as a card to get to stay up later, but sometimes the fear is genuine and he needs comforting. Fear isn’t something we grow out of through the normal course of life. We all have moments of doubt and desire comfort. Where we find it is important and telling about us. My little guy reminded me that just as he turns to me for comfort in uncertainty, in unfamiliar situations, whenever he feels there is danger; that’s how I need to be with my Heavenly Father. The most marvelous thing is that God is there and willing for us to run to Him. Numerous times in the Bible people were told not to fear. A couple of my favorites are Exodus 14:13-14 and John 14:1-4. They say very much the same thing though in different ways.

And Moses said to the people, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again.  The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.” – Exodus 14:13-14



      The first told the Israelites, pursued by Pharaoh, not to fear. God would deliver them, they only needed to watch and see. In the same way, whenever my son runs to me, if he watches and sees, I will take care of him.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.  In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.  And you know the way to where I am going.”
– John 14:1-4

      In John 14, the Last Supper is taking place and the disciples were being told Christ was going to leave them. The Lord reassured them to just trust Him, because even though He was leaving He would be coming back. God’s purposes for them were not ending, whatever the circumstances that precise moment seemed. More than once my little guy has fretted over me leaving for work, or even leaving the room. In either case, my intention is to return to him, because I want us to be together.

     Both verses make it clear we need to see past our fears about our circumstances to see what the Lord is going to do. Our hope as followers of Christ isn’t based in our ability to deduce a good path through every scary situation we encounter in life. It’s an unwavering hope and faith in our Heavenly Father to bring about ultimate good in the way He sees fit. As I’ve said before, my little guy is smart, but he doesn’t have my perspective on things. Likewise and to a far greater extent, no matter how clever we are, God always sees the whole of things, and deserves our confidence. We love Him and we can trust He loves us, because He told us so. Is there any reason to hold to fear knowing the Creator of the universe Who sees all time and thoughts and purposes, omnipotent, can’t be trusted to care for us properly.



“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” – 1 John 4:18

Just a Second

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

– Romans 8:18

[image error]1.5 seconds. That’s about how long it takes to go from the top of Disney World’s Splash Mountain to its bottom. In 2014, my wife, brother-in-law, and I all decided to ride it. Typically I draw the line with rides like Splash Mountain. I really hate that sensation of the sudden drop roller coasters give you and thought even Splash Mountain would come close to messing with me. But after passing on the Tower of Terror, I had to salvage some measure of bravado.  So, I rode it. While in line for 45 minutes, dreading the big drop—50 feet at 40 mph—I calculated a rough estimate of how long the drop would last and was stunned. It was a jarring realization after so long dwelling in anxiety over it. Truth be told, while on the ride it was the smaller drops that were more bothersome. The big one was over before I could even process it fully. 1.5 seconds was nothing compared to the hours of fun we had at the park.

What’s the significance of my trip anecdote? Simply that it’s a nice metaphor for life now. In the grand scheme of our existence promised, life in the world as we know it is nothing. It’s a blip. Over before it’s even fully comprehensible. But life after death, that’s vast. There are a number of people who can’t understand why God would allow us to make the choice of what our eternal destiny is based upon such a marginal portion of our existence. I’d suggest I’ve addressed this topic before, as have many others over the centuries, but to be brief, it’s our proving ground.

If you can accept the Genesis account of Creation as truth for a moment, the scenario at the fall of man was this: God gave man one definitive rule: DO NOT eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Man had unmitigated access to God. He knew God is real. He could see Him daily, talk directly with Him, and enjoyed a relationship we dream about. Moreover, he had eternal life. He would never die, become ill, etc. So essentially he had what is promised to us in Heaven. Adam and Eve threw it away with both hands. Having everything plainly before them they did the one thing God explicitly told them not to do and defied God’s right to rule.

Now, we have the reversal of their situation. We can’t see God as they did, know Him as they did, our lives are fleeting, and suffering is all around us. There is one thing God tells us to DO: accept His forgiveness in Christ Jesus. Partake the offered fruit. In that act lies the reversal of Adam and Eve’s rebellion. It requires a yielding to God, restoring Him to the rightful place in our lives. Doing so brings restoration of relationship and I believe it is precisely our choosing Him when things are at the most difficult that proves us likely to be faithful when all is stripped away and we see Him as He was and is and will always be.

So, we can fret over the briefest and admittedly tumultuous, period of our existence, or we can endure it. Get through it on the hope that something better awaits because we’ve entrusted ourselves to the God Who crafted us for more than this life. Life is replete with examples of brief suffering giving way to much greater joy: labor in child birth, nightmares and the waking world, and even big drops on amusement park rides. I assure you, I bear no memory of the drop at Splash Mountain, but I do recall all the fun I had thereafter. Remember, your endurance will be worth it in the time after this world, which goes ever on.

A Tale of Two Stories

[image error]     It’s an old adage that there are two sides to every coin. I would go a step beyond what that phrase implies to say there is one story but two narratives. There is the protagonist’s take and the antagonist’s take. If you want to be technical you could say there is a different narrative for every character in a story, but for illustration’s sake, I’ll stick with two. Writing the antagonist’s side to things has really become a popular trend in literature. The Real Story of the 3 Little Pigs, Wicked, Lost Boy, and others give us a version of a classic story from the villain’s perspective. These usually include some accommodations to make us even more sympathetic with the villain. Having read those stories for years, ironically, the clarity of mind to really grasp the concept of there being multiple vantages in every story didn’t hit me until I saw Cars 3. Bear with me, I know I just switched gears a bit by going from classic literature and modern day twists to a Disney movie, but I promise there’s some substance to this.

 

In Cars 3, you have the upstart rookie who is looking to make his mark on history by being the first car to win the Piston Cup in his rookie year. Oh, wait. No, I didn’t get Cars and Cars 3 confused. In the original Cars, the rookie alluded to is Lightning McQueen, the red race car protagonist who learns a big lesson. [image error]In Cars 3, the rookie is Jackson Storm, a black new-age race car who acts as the antagonist. What struck me is that though Cars 3 is still about McQueen and meant to be a Rocky 3/Rocky Balboa hybrid story, is it really fair of us to begrudge Storm for aspiring to the same feats McQueen pursued just because he is billed as the bad guy? Or what about Clubber Lang from Rocky 3 while we’re at it. Was he so different from Rocky at the outset? (I’ll answer this at the end)

 

Seeing the Cars story played out through two different characters to two different ends really made me think about how we approach stories and even more so daily life. We read a story with the intention of pulling for whomever is intended to be the protagonist, even during those times when the protagonist is actually understood to be a villain (Breaking Bad, Dracula Untold, etc.). Their story becomes our story. The tendency to support “our” story, I believe, is what leads to a tremendous number of conflicts in life. We tend to approach life with an “it’s my story” attitude. If all the world is a stage and we merely players in it, then most all of us believe we’re the lead in the play.  The truth of the matter is we’re not the lead, and this isn’t our story. For Christians, the tendency to buy into a self-centered story is more dangerous, because we know Who’s story life is and that we are neither the playwright nor the lead character. Acting as though we are throws a wrench into our dynamic with other characters and naturally leads to mishandling situations. We become so focused our own view point that we lose sight of how a casual observer might see us as an antagonist.

 

None of this is to say that all conflict is wrong and there are not legitimate instances to take a stand for what we believe and for our actions. It does mean we need to be very careful to remember the Apostle Paul’s adjuration to “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3, ESV)

 

When we value others at least as much as ourselves we remember they are people too and have come to a particular moment with a view point and experiences defining their side of the story. How many conflicts that reduce down to stubborn wars of attrition could be resolved by giving someone else the benefit of the doubt and choosing in love to consider the other person first? How many more conflicts would never happen if that attitude guided us from the start? I know I’m guilty of forgetting this. I only pray I remember it more often, because imagine how very different history would have shaped out if the Playwright and Lead Character had chosen to treat us without the humility and loving compassion He showed and shows us.

 

*: Just to be clear, I in no way am endorsing moral relativism here. Quite the opposite. I believe very firmly there are absolute heroes and villains in both art and certainly in reality. In terms of storytelling, I think the difference in Clubber Lang/Jackson Storm from Rocky Balboa/Lightning McQueen lies in their choices after being introduced. Both pairs have very similar attitudes and responses to the similar opportunities and events. What didn’t happen for the villains is a change of heart or focus that leads to them becoming nobler. At that pivotal moment where growth and virtue could take place, Clubber/Storm veer 180 degrees. I think it is important to remember while writing a story, the villains are often similar to protagonists, but choose the dark side so-to-speak. It’s their resistance to redemption that makes them villains, not their initial role in a story.

What’s So Great About Heaven?

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“The creatures came rushing on…as they came right up to Aslan one or other of two things happened to each of them. They all looked straight in his face…when some looked, the expression…was fear and hatred…all the creatures who looked at Aslan in that way swerved to their right, his left, and disappeared into his huge black shadow…But others looked in the face of Aslan and loved him…all these came in at the Door, in on Aslan’s right.” – The Last Battle

In the youth group at my church, the teens used to talk about what they thought Heaven would be like. They always included favorite animals, pastimes (particularly video games), and on occasion having some kind of super power (like flying). As one of the leaders of the group, I got a little concerned they were missing the point of Heaven. Trying to talk to them about that usually elicited comments questioning how anyone could want to spend all their time, forever, singing praises to God. Which begs the question, what is so great about Heaven?

I don’t tend to meditate on fictional works, but like the other Chronicles of Narnia books, The Last Battle is allegorical for spiritual truths. The scene quoted above from The Last Battle really stuck with me today. As a writer, I sometimes get pulled out of a text by choice of phrase by an author. This one did that for me and left me wondering why Lewis would choose to explicitly the creatures’ departed to their right, Aslan’s left. It isn’t necessary in terms of strict storytelling, we would have the image from saying to Aslan’s left. After some thought it seems clear Lewis was being intentional about drawing the contrasts of that moment out fully.

The creatures who rejected Aslan chose their right instead of his. In many cultures, notably Hebrew, the right hand was a sign of one’s power, will, and favor. By saying they went to Aslan’s left, their right, the creatures rejected Aslan’s rule over them and rejected his will for them. Just as with Christ and humanity, they could freely choose to submit to Aslan’s will, but they chose their own.

People say they can’t believe God will send people to an eternal Hell. I think I can agree with that. God proclaimed His law, His will. We can accept or reject it, it is our choice. Note also that the creatures who rejected Aslan’s will hated him when they saw him. Why would God take to Heaven those who hate His will and hate Him? They would not be at peace in Heaven any more than they were with Him on earth. Because Heaven isn’t glorious and all satisfying because the bounty present there or the place itself, it’s because He is there. That’s what makes Heaven beautiful, God.

In Christ’s sacrifice, we can see His love and realize He is the hero we need. The substance of all we’ve ever longed for in this life. When we embrace Him now, we are choosing His will, His lordship, and embracing Him in the same love He has for us. I’m not saying Heaven isn’t a place, but I am saying what makes Heaven worth seeking and desiring isn’t the place, it’s the Person, Christ Jesus.